Note: Elias is an arse. An enormous, flaming arse. :-p

Edit: 8/6/14

Chapter 10: "A Hero, A Friend"

"So you're the Hero of Ferelden?" The beardless dwarf that had introduced himself as 'Varric' said from beside her. Solona was following Elias and his group through the old mine shafts that made up Darktown. The moment they had arrived, she had to curb the desire to go check in on Anders. "I have to admit that I'm surprised."

Solona raised an eyebrow at the comment, unable to hide her amusement. "Surprised?"

With a shrug and a devilish grin, Varric turned his brown eyes on her. There was no shame on the man's face. Solona doubted there had ever been shame there before. "You are so... tiny. I thought you'd be six feet tall with lightning bolts coming from your eyes."

The description brought a chuckle from the warden. "Really? I'm sorry to disappoint then."

"Oh, I don't know!" The perky elf said from ahead of them. She glanced over her shoulder at Solona and Varric, a bright smile on her pretty face. "You do have fascinating eyes! I'm sure if you tried hard enough you could shoot lightning from them."

"Uh- thank you?" Solona posed the response as a question since she really didn't know how to take the strange elf's words.

The elf smiled wider than Solona thought was possible for such a petite creature before turning back to the conversation she'd been having with Isabela. Elias was walking in front of the two women, ignoring his companions for the company of his own frustration. Solona didn't understand his attitude, but neither Isabela or Varric seemed bothered by it. Merrill didn't appear to notice.

"Don't mind, Daisy." Varric spoke, drawing her attention once more. "She can be a little silly at times."

Solona smiled, feeling comfortable in the presence of the jovial dwarf. He was nothing like Oghren that was for sure. While Oghren was a drunk and overly sexual bastard, Varric was suave, charming and exceedingly smooth. His weapon was flattery and he knew how to wield it. Knowing this, however, didn't diminish the effect his cheerful nature had over her. She could almost forget the purpose of the trip as she listened to him chatter on.

"Stop trying to charm her with your sweet words and chest hair, Varric." Isabela called towards them with a wink. "You were supposed to be saving those for me."

"You wish, Rivaini." With an affectionate pat placed on the crossbow that hung from his back, he replied, "Bianca is the only woman for me."

Solona snorted a laugh. "Bianca? Do you have a name for everything?"

Varric smirked at her question. "If you must know... yes."

"What about me?" Solona asked, braiding her hair as they walked. She didn't like having her hair loose so she put it in its usual braid whenever she had the chance. "What kind of name would you give me?"

"Besides 'Hero'?"

With a groan, Solona shook her head. "Please don't call me that. When people call me the 'Hero of Ferelden', all I think about is how much of a hero I'm not."

"I sense a story there." Varric responded before chuckling lowly. "If I come up with a nickname for you, I'll let you know. Just so you know- Sunshine is already taken."

Placing a hand on Varric's shoulder, she smiled down at him. If she didn't know any better, she'd think she was falling in love with the goofy dwarf. Suddenly Elias stopped in front of a home in sad need of repairs off the dusty path. He gave a quick glare towards his companions before kicking in the door. Solona would have been speechless if his actions hadn't mirrored his attitude. With a sigh, she followed him, Isabela and Merrill through the now broken door and into the cramped one room within, Varric trailing behind her.

An elderly man was seated in a worn and dusty chair, a look of exhaustion on his face. A small fire burned in a hearth behind him, but it did little to light the room. The roof above them was full of holes that were made by age or little critters, possibly both from the state of it. The wood was covered in mold, the floor nothing but dust. A cot lay beside the door, a table and single wooden chair beside it as a place to eat.

Sorrow lived in this home and it made Solona sad to think that the people of Kirkwall could live in such squalor. The very thought that the Knight Commander and the Viscount would let things in the poorer sections of the city get so bad was horrendous.

Elias strode towards the seated man, a staff held in his outstretched hand. Solona had to admire the irony. Her cousin was an apostate and his brother, a templar. What were the odds of that?

Before Elias could open his mouth to speak, the old man glanced up from the book in his lap, not an ounce of fear showing on his weary face. "Are you here to bring me to the templars, boy?"

Elias bristled at the name. Lifting the stave threateningly, he snapped, "Why I don't just kill you and forgo the templars?"

Stopping the mortified groan that wanted to voice itself at the way he was acting, Solona took a step towards her cousin and caught the staff before pulling it away from Elias's grip. He didn't know what had happened at first but when he saw his staff in her hands, he spun towards her.

"How dare you get in my way?" Elias hissed before attempting a grab for his stave.

Solona moved it out of his way and took a step away from him. "Threatening people isn't going to get you the answers you seek, Elias."

"So is the great Hero going to give me advice on how to interrogate a blood mage?" He growled at her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don't need your help."

"Elias- maybe you should listen to what she has to say." Varric said softly, not wanting to anger his friend more, but knowing Solona was correct in a softer approach to questioning a maleficar.

The raven-haired mage turned his ocean-blue eyes on the dwarf. "Oh you do, do you? I didn't ask for you advice, V-"

Solona brought the end of the staff against Elias' head. The collision echoed through the small house and the mage dropped to the ground without warning. Turning to face her companions, Solona met their shocked expressions with a wry grin. "Get him out of here. I'll take care of the blood mage."

As Isabela and Merrill prepared Elias for transport, Varric sidled up to Solona and appeared to worry. "Are you sure you can handle this without help?"

Solona shot a quick look at the old man who hadn't moved a muscle from the chair he sat in before returning her eyes to Varric. "I'll be fine. I'm the damned 'Hero of Ferelden' remember? If I can handle an Archdemon, I can handle a maleficar."

"If you say so, Killer."

The nickname brought a laugh from her lips. "You've thought of one already?"

"What can I say? I work fast." Varric winked and took her hand before placing a soft kiss upon it. "It helps to be surrounded by an inspiring woman such as yourself."

Solona could feel blush burning her cheeks at his comment and moved her eyes away from him to find Bela watching them with delight. Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away to grasp at her braid nervously. Maker, she was acting like a young Circle apprentice over one comment from this suave dwarf!

"We could use your help, Varric." Isabela finally called out, taking his attention away from the flustered warden. The dwarf chuckled and went to help the women take care of their leader.

With an embarrassed laugh, Solona ran her hands over her face. By the time Elias was taken away by his friends, she'd recovered enough to meet the blood mage's eyes. He hadn't spoken during the entire exchange but as he watched the former Commander closely, a smile broke out across his face.

"You need my help with something forbidden, don't you?" The maleficar said with a chuckle. "Of course you do. Why else would you knock out that irritating child?" Steeping his fingers over the book that now lay closed on his lap, those steel colored eyes met hers with interest sparkling in them. "Tell me, dear. What can Quentin do for you?"

Solona hide her fear and uncertainty behind a mask of determination. "I need you to remove a spirit from a friend of mine."

"I don't like this, So." Anders whispered as they stood in Quentin's dilapidated home, the roof leaking from the evening's earlier storm. "Blood magic is a bad idea. It's what got me in this situation in the first place."

"The past is the past, Anders." Solona told him with a reassuring smile. Putting a hand on his shoulder, she tried to banish his fears. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe it would work."

His amber eyes met hers with hope. Solona prayed that the ritual worked and they would be able to expel Justice from Anders's body. Otherwise, she was out of ideas on how to help him. "Do you really think this could work?"

Solona had to quell her own worry in order to nod her head and keep the smile on her face. "I do."

Anders glanced over at the older man who would be helping them. Quentin would be doing the ritual in exchange for his own life. "Elias isn't happy about this."

Solona rolled her eyes at the mention of her cousin. "Elias is the friend of a blood mage. He cannot tell me what is right or wrong."

Anders visibly swallowed as Quentin stepped forward. The old man had pulled his long graying hair back into a ponytail and was waiting for them to finish speaking. "Ms. Amell, if we may proceed?"

"Of course." Turning to Anders, she slipped her hand into his before leading him to the cot that had been provided for the ritual. Solona didn't release his hand as he climbed onto the mattress nor did she leave his side once he was lying flat. Her gaze found his and she smiled at him once more. "You will be fine, Anders. Deep breaths."

The healer did as she directed. With each exhale of breath he released, Solona could feel the tension easing from his grip. He didn't notice the tendrils of magic that she directed to their joined hands. When he was finally under the thrall of her sleep spell, she directed her attention to the blood mage. "He's ready."

The old mage drank a vial of lyrium before stepping closer to the cot. Quentin closed his gray eyes and placed a hand on Anders's head. His brow creased as he concentrated on locating the spirit within the mage under his control. Solona watched Quentin closely, noticing he was starting to sweat the longer he searched the Fade. A few more minutes passed until, with a heavy sigh, the blood mage opened his eyes and leaned against the wall beside the cot. Concerned, Solona released Anders's hand and helped to keep the older man upright.

"What happened?" She asked, worried for both the men in the room. "Did you find Justice?"

Quentin tossed a weary look in the direction of the cot where Anders was lying. With a low voice, he spoke. "We have a problem."

Solona's heart sank at those words. "A problem? What do you mean we have a problem? You said you could do this!"

Quentin sank into a rickety wooden chair and placed a hand to his temple. "I wasn't aware of how entwined your friend and the spirit are. I cannot separate them cleanly. If I attempt to send the spirit back to the Fade in the condition they are in, it could destroy them both."

Solona felt as if her knees were about to give out from beneath her. This couldn't happen. Not now. "So there is nothing you can do for him?"

Quentin met her gaze stoically. "I never said there was nothing I couldn't do. But you are not going to like it."

"Tell me." Solona all but begged the man. "I'll do anything. He cannot stay like this. It's already destroying him."

Quentin nodded once before standing again. Solona stepped forward to make sure he didn't topple over, but he waved her away. "We can remove the spirit, but it has been broken. Your friend's soul has become one with the spirit of Justice. The only possibility of removing it from his body, however, is to transfer the spirit to another. Justice must be bound to a soul."

Solona shook her head, confused about what Quentin was trying to explain. "I don't understand. Why can't you just send Justice to the Fade if you can separate them?"

Quentin sighed. "I would if it was that simple. Your friend's soul and the spirit are one being. If I attempted to send Justice into the Fade, the tear in your friend's soul could kill him." The mage waved towards Anders's prone form. "The spell would require blood magic, of course. Some of Anders's blood and the blood of the one who will be the spirit's new host. When the blood combines, the spell will do the rest. Justice will detach himself from Anders's soul and transfer to the other person's. That is the only way this can be done."

Solona tugged on her braid, nearly pulling the tie out. She knew what she was going to do and Anders was not going to like it. Not. One. Bit.

"I'll do it."

Quentin's eyebrows came together in obvious confusion. "I'm sorry?"

Taking a couple calming breaths, Solona mustered her courage and met the blood mage's eerie gaze. "I will be the new host for Justice."

"You must think about this clearly, Ms. Amell. The spell isn't safe by any means. Taking a spirit into your body, allowing it to merge with your soul... you'd become worse than an abomination."

As Quentin tried to persuade her from doing the spell herself, Solona allowed her hazel eyes to fall upon the sleeping form of her best friend. Anders's dark blond hair was spread out across the pillow, his golden eyes closed to the chaos around him. He was at peace. She knew the moment he awoke and realized what she'd done, he would be angry. He might never forgive her. But this was something she had to do. It was the last thing she could give him. This was possibly the only way to save him.

Interrupting Quentin's in-depth analysis, Solona handed him the lyrium infused sword at her hip. "Is there anything else I should know about my joining with Justice?"

"It is irreversible. You will be attached to the spirit until you die... or until it takes complete control of your body."

"Fine." Thrusting the pommel of the light blade into his hand, Solona returned to Anders's side. Kneeling so their arms would be level, she gripped his hand in hers again before glancing up at the blood mage. "What are you waiting for?"

Quentin shook his head of any doubts and approached where she sat. He began to whisper words of whatever spell he was casting, one hand on her head while the other was on Anders's. Lifting their joined hands, Solona kissed his knuckles before resting them back on the cot. The Fade tugged at her as she knelt, beckoning to her. She tried her best to resist it, but it was becoming harder the farther into the darkspawn corruption she fell.

Quentin, with Spellweaver prepared for the ritual, stepped forward and grasped their fists in his hand. He made quick, deep cuts with the blade against Anders's skin then hers. He held their joined hands as he finished speaking the final words to the spell. At first, nothing happened. Anticipation was too much for her and she was about to ask Quentin if it had worked. Then her vision reddened. The power of blood magic swirled around she and Anders, and fear finally erupted within her. What had she done?

Pain hit her suddenly like a punch to the stomach. She fell forward, the pain encompassing her entire body. With a strangled cry, Solona clutched her midsection with her free hand. The one that was entwined with Anders's hand wouldn't budge. As she glanced around, she couldn't see the house, Quentin, not even Anders as he lay beside her. All she saw was the red of blood magic. All she felt was a stabbing pain that began in her abdomen and then worked a path up to her chest, through her heart and to the cut on her arm.

A bluish light merged with the red and Solona noticed that it was coming from her body, not her surroundings. The pain was replaced by a burning sensation, gaining in intensity until finally her poor body couldn't contain it any longer. Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell to the floor, unconscious.