In the name of Andraste, how did Varric find himself here? Tevinter of all places, feeding a man that was once the most powerful man in all of Thedas, while simultaneously babysitting a drunkard of a pampered noble in line to take a seat on the Magisterium. It felt like a long build up for a joke that never had a punchline.
Three times a day, he went and brought Glowy food. Every time he did so, he made sure to subtly call him 'Alarion', hoping to get the elf used to having a name again. They would talk, a little. Well, Varric mostly talked while he sat there absorbing everything like an excited puppy. It had been a while since Varric had had such a captivated audience. Felt good to have someone new to tell stories too. Every once and a while, though, Varric caught himself telling him a story he knew Alarion had already been told. It was a strange feeling whenever this happened. A part of him waited for Glowy to have recognition flash across his expression. A laughing, 'you've already told me this one', or something! Instead, the elf sat happily waiting to hear what happened next. It was far more disconcerting than Varric allowed to be shown externally (to Sparkler or his forgetful lover).
Even the first time Varric had gone to see him, the poor guy had seemed terrified. He had relaxed after he had been fed, but had still seemed warry. It had taken a lot of discreet coaxing to get him to open even a little. A hundred small smiles, a gentle nod at his few words, a ready word of encouragement at any given time, and so much more: all things he doubted Alarion had even noticed, but Varric hoped it had helped. Maker, he was starting to sound like the Kid.
Shaking his head at his own thoughts, Varric closed the door behind him. The instant it shut, Dorian pounced on him.
"Well?"
"'Well' what, Sparkler?"
"You know damn well what. How is he?"
"Still terrified, still memoryless, and still not wanting to come out. Just like the last hundred times you've asked me."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't comment. Varric knew he should have a little more patience (had that been Bianca in there instead…), but Dorian's dramatic 'woe is me' was starting to wear him thin. "What did you talk about this time?"
"A little more about some of my Hawke stories, and the weather."
"The weather."
"Yeah. We talked about weather, and I asked him about clouds." Varric folded his arms. "Did you know the elf can't remember rain, but he knows what it is? He seemed really excited when I told him that the weather was worsening and he had a chance to see some soon."
For a moment, the mage had been struck speechless. "You legitimately talked about the fucking weather?"
"I found it rather informative actually." He maintained, attempting to keep the irritation out of his voice. Shaking his head, Varric turned and started towards his room so they'd no longer have to whisper. "If Alarion knows something that he has no memory of, there is a chance he even knows some people we know. Imagine for a moment how much simpler it will be convince him that we're on his side if we have someone he remembers here to talk to him."
"But weather?"
"Meaningless talk is important in calming people down." Varric snapped, feeling more exasperated by the second. Without looking at the man, Varric pulled out the chair to the desk, but continued to talk. "Think it will help to try and calm the elf down by flooding him with the knowledge we are old friends? It's best if we just start over for now."
He frowned as he heard Dorian storm off, but didn't comment or look over his shoulder. Instead, he pulled out a scrap of paper. At the top was his previous writing, and he quickly jotted down a little more at the bottom before he scanned the notes.
Conversation 1: Shit! Qunari? Couldn't have been a simple single bastard that I could've shot. No! It had to be an entire fucking race. Sparkler looked ready to storm the entire island when I told him. Already wrote to Nightingale. At this point, the question is this: how the hell did happen? Slavers (that we found slaughtered) to Qunari, Qunari to Tevinter Magister in a way that involved the sea? And, somehow along the way, serious memory loss? Shit, this doesn't make any sense to me.
Breakfast Conversation 2: Glowy looked so surprised to see me again. This time around, I barely got him to say anything. I mostly talked to him about Hawke's first three years in Kirkwall. I haven't gone into this much detail since the Seeker asked so nicely.
Conversation 3: Brought him lunch, we shared. We pretty much ate in silence. He seems to be relaxing more around me.
Conversation 4: I almost got him to talk to me about his pervious day-to-day, but he clamped up tighter than Seeker's smile. Good thing I had asked so tactfully, otherwise I wouldn't have been able to play it off like I was asking something different. Probably best if I just lay off asking him anything anymore. From now on, stories are all that will flow out of my mouth.
Breakfast Conversation 5: Just stories. Didn't ask him anything. Sparkler didn't appreciate that one bit. 5 silvers says he'll be drunk by lunch.
Conversation 6: I asked Glowy if he knew how to read since "he liked stories so much". He told me that slaves aren't permitted to read. Word-for-word what Broody once told me. I offered to teach him since I know how much Glowy loved to read. He seemed both thrilled and terrified by my offer, and didn't give me an answer. That's fine with me. I'll be patient. Maker knows Alarion deserves a little patience for what he did for Thedas. (Also, I'd be 5 silvers up if there was anyone around besides me to pay up)
Conversation 7: Fuck! Why do I always befriend tragic heroes? If Hawke doesn't kill me, Alarion will. This time, the elf asked me if I was going to murder him. I'm not sure if he believed me or not.
Breakfast Conversation 8: As I told him more stories, the elf seemed to relax even more today. Maybe he did believe me when I promised to never hurt him. Shit, I hope so.
Conversation 9: We actually had a conversation! Not just him listening and answering the occasional question. We discussed food. The man still likes fruit. I promised to bring him a little extra fruit next time. That seemed to perk him up. I wonder what it must be like, never having your preferences be noted before? Well, that he can remember anyway.
Conversation 10: Haven't been able to get him to tell me the name of that bastard that convinced him he was a slave. I haven't asked outright, though. I'm no fool. Learned nothing of importance. I mostly did the talking this time. The few things he mentioned was the occasional things he likes. Shit we already knew about him. Dorian seemed relieved that the elf still enjoyed the outdoors and walking barefoot in the grass.
Breakfast Conversation 11: Today while talking about his favorite weather, he told he that he wanted to see rain for the first time. I asked him who told him about it, and he told me no one did. He just knew what it was. When I probed, he told me that he didn't know how he knew, he just did. Some of it's still in there, I guess. This might be the most important information I've gotten since Sehron, even if Dorian's being a piss about it. I'll make sure to write the letters about it.
Sighing, Varric set the paper down only to pull up two blank ones. Once he finished his letters, he stood, and went to the kitchen. When he arrived, Dorian seemed to already be halfway through a bottle of some Tevinter alcohol. Frowning, but saying nothing, Varric began to prepare a couple sandwiches. He left one on the table, and set the other two on a tray. Without a word, he sat down at the table, lost in thought.
"Is it really so simple to just befriend him again?"
Varric looked up, surprised that Dorian was talking, but less surprised by the almost accusing tone. Was that what he had been obsessing over? "Of course it isn't. You remember how easy it was to befriend him the first time in Haven. The elf was hands down the friendliest person I have ever met. He was your friend after only five minutes of talking to him. This time around, it's an actual effort. But, that doesn't mean I'm willing to walk away from him."
"How can you just accept this so easily?"
"Simple: I can't. But Glowy needs me right now, and I'm willing to be there for him. Therefore, what he's feeling is more important than what I'm feeling."
The human looked like he'd respond, but instead he just bowed his head, leaving Varric alone to his own thoughts again.
"And I am not good at dealing with shit like this."
"No one is, Varric." His green eyes were so wide with concern. Blasted elf had more compassion in his expression than more people felt in their entire lives.
He was just too good! He couldn't possibly understand. "That's just it. I don't deal with things. If Cassandra hadn't dragged me here, I'd be in Kirkwall right now, pretending none of this was happening."
"You know that's not true." Alarion replied immediately. "You've worked as hard as any of us to stop Corypheus."
"Is that true? I don't even know anymore." It wasn't that he didn't appreciate his words… Shit, he was sounding like an ungrateful whinny teenager. "Thank you. For your help back there."
As if sensing his thoughts, Alarion frowned at him. "Stop that. Stop doing that whole I'm-a-terrible-person attitude when I know for a fact you're not."
"Sure you think–"
"No! Listen for a second." He folded his arms, looking far too serious for someone usually so cheerful. "The first time we met, my hand was coming crazy. Did you know the words of comfort Cassandra told me? 'It's killing you.'" He gave a soft chuckle before continuing. "Remember what you said? 'Shit, are you alright?' Didn't even know anything about me, yet you cared enough to ask. So while Solas was berating me for being born Dalish and Cassandra wasn't giving two shits if I lived or died… there you were caring.
"Later at Haven, you were the first and only person to ask me how I well I was holding up.
"And," his eyes danced, twinkling in the candlelight. "You were the first person to ever ask me for my name who wasn't Dalish. Literally, you were the first person to ask in my entire life."
Varric opened his mouth to respond, though he had no idea how to for once. He just sort of hoped it'd come to him, but Alarion glared him down into silence. "Ask me to come on a secret mission with only you and your girlfriend that you admitted might betray us? No hesitation. Want me to keep the leak a secret from my advisors? Without question I will. And, want me to let Bianca go after she does betray us? For you, of course.
"But I'll be damned if you want me to stand here and say nothing in your defense! You want me to believe you're only here because you were dragged to, and only guilt is making you help the Inquisition? Bullshit, Varric! Want to know why I think you're here helping? Because you're a good person who cares about people!
"You're my friend and a damn good one at that. There's a lot I'm willing do to for a good friend, but I won't stand around and let anyone badmouth them, even themselves."
Sighing, he unfolded his arms. "Sorry, that may have been a bit much, but you had it coming." He titled his head, eyes wide with concern once more. "After all this, do you think you'll see Bianca again?"
Varric gave a soft smile. "I always do."
Perhaps Glowy had been right all long. After all, here he was. Dealing with shit that made no sense to him… again! And this time, it had only taken a letter to get him across Thedas again, no kidnapping required.
Sighing, Varric gathered the tray and got ready to beam and pretend nothing was wrong.
His friend was in there somewhere. He just knew it. And if worthless chatter and a million smiles would bring him back, he was willing to do it.
Also known as the chapter where Alarion says what was on my mind during the epilogue of that quest. If Hawke had been there, she would have said it herself. Albeit, in her purple-Hawke way.
Why is Varric's flashback in third person while Dorian's was in first you may ask? I do have a reason! Varric was reflecting on a past interaction while Dorian was truly re-experiencing them. It felt heavy handed to write Dorian's flashbacks in third when the character was clearly more than just remembering happier times.
So it isn't some horrible inconsistence. I had a reason! I doubt many of you even noticed, but I would have so… here's my defense. Feel free to judge me anyway :)
