Once again, it has been a while. Sorry! :p uni and full-time jobs don't mix with fun apparently. Thank you for reading, hope this is worth the wait.

...

"For the besht…" Fenris slurred out, gesturing clumsily as he spilled half his mug's contents on the floor.

Varric eyes turned to face him, his expression hard. "Excuse me?"

"Besht to cut the head from the sssnake before it can bite…"

"You're assuming the snake has fangs, Elf. Perhaps if we hadn't been so quick to fall in line, things may have been different. In the aftermath, Bianca collapsed in on herself. It wasn't simply shock at Juvia's betrayal… it was as if she'd lost a piece of herself, one that she'd been clinging to desperately all the years since her brother died…."

And there was still something about that night that I couldn't shake…"

…

"Ancestors, Newbie! Will you drop it?!" Bianca all but snarled. But Varric knew that her words weren't coming from a place of anger, rather one of hurt. He could tell by the tired look in her eyes and the sorrow that threatened to break her voice.

"But something just doesn't seem right, did you see the plans yourself?" He pressed for what seemed like the millionth time. It was like banging his head against a stone wall, but if he persevered perhaps a stone would come loose. One stone; that was all he needed…

"My sister is gone, Varric… I know you mean well but this really is doing no good."

"You don't know that." The merchant argued. "There's something missing here. I mean, it can't be just coincidence that Bartrand got set up at the Gallows…"

"He didn't get set up, he got caught because he's an idiot."

"The mages all but disappeared along the Wounded Coast…"

"Juvia encountered little trouble… She obviously knew where to look."

"The Council were already gathered, ready to cast judgement on Bartrand and Juvia before we even got back to base…"

"Well of course they were, Bellam had no choice but to call them to meeting…"

Varric took a sharp intake of breath. There was something there, he was certain of it… and the irritation in her tone did nothing to quell his suspicions. What was he not seeing… or was he simply asking the wrong questions?

"Has Juvia ever done anything like this before?"

"What? Fucked up? Gee, Newbie… if you need to ask that…"

"No, I mean… been so…"

"Stupid?"

"No… well, yes, but I mean so…. Careless?"

"If you're asking if this would be the first time she's left plans lying about in her quarters… then definitely…" The older sister scoffed dismissively, in a decisive way that made Varric take pause.

"Why so certain, did you check often?"

"Nope. Didn't need to. Juvia was… let's say, her grasp of the written word was… somewhat lacking."

Varric felt his breath hitch; was he hearing right? "Bianca…" The way his heart thudded seemed to drown out his thoughts. He spoke slowly and deliberately, to make sure he was fully comprehending what he was being told. "Are you saying Juvia can't write…?"

"Not well enough to write down detailed plans and leave them around for Bellam to stumble across."

Varric fell silent for a moment, digesting this new information. "So what could have changed that?"

"Don't know. Maybe your dickhead brother taught her a few words… Ancestors know she'd never have thought of hitting the Keep without his fucking stupidity…"

He dropped pace as she walked away, shaking his head when she hesitated, obviously waiting for him to catch up. She shot him a glance of concern, but didn't question him before disappearing around the corner.

Varric slowed to a halt, staring vacantly down the empty hallway; a very ugly thought staring right back at him.

….

When he arrived, his brother's room was in an unusual state of chaos. Drawers lay empty on the floor, their contents scattered around and between piles of clothes strewn haphazardly across the floor. Sheets and sheets of parchment and papers completed the ensemble, the overall effect being to lend a disturbingly eccentric air the frenzied figure in the centre.

Bartrand's languid demeanour was gone, replaced by scowling panic. As Varric watched his brother tear out chunks from the various piles of magnanimous crap, he couldn't help but notice the sweat that covered his brow and the harsh whispered words he kept repeating:

Where is it?

Varric supressed a smile as he watched the frantic display. He was here on business, after all. "Lose something, Brother?"

The merchant failed to hide a small chuckle of amusement as he watched his sibling jolt with shock, although the panicked look in Bartrand's eyes as he met his gaze made him feel a twinge of guilt. It was short-lived, however, as the greeting he received was hardly brotherly. "This is all your fault, you little bastard!" Bartrand roared.

"What?! What the hell did I do?" Varric barked back, for a moment forgetting his purpose in calling for his brother in the first place.

"You and that bloody bitch! You talked didn't you? Told her where my papers…"

"How the hell would I know where your damned papers are?! You've not talked to me in weeks!"

"Are you surprised? Always on the heel of that fucking whore?!"

"DON'T CALL HER THAT!"

The volume and anger in his words reverberated around the room.

Bartrand was white, his lips pursed and his eyes wide, though Varric was sure he could still see a glint of fury in his eyes. Varric checked himself, he knew if he continued he'd lose what little hope he had of getting Bartrand to spill what he knew. And Bianca needed this. Hell, if he were honest with himself he wasn't sure how much this was about her, but more how he needed this. How much this was about him needing the old Bianca back…

Bartrand took the lengthy silence to mean that his brother's outburst had come to an end and promptly began to mutter again. "Fecking women interfering with…"

"Enough." Varric's voice was flat, but Bartrand didn't seem to notice the warning.

"You sent that little bitch in to steal those plans, didn't you?"

"I swear to the Maker if you insult her once more…"

"I meant the other one." Bartrand spat venomously. "The one under cover… That bitch Juvia… she was one of yours all along wasn't she?"

Varric stopped, shocked. "…What? You didn't plant that in Juvia's room?"

"Plant WHAT?" All I know is my plans to do with the Keep have gone missing and I've got no one else to blame but you! I should have known you were up to something when that old bastard was hanging around in here the other week. How else could he have known…?"

"Old bastard?" Varric could feel his grasp of the situation slipping away, facts that he'd been certain of replaced with confusion and more questions.

"The one who teaches you all that fucking archery shit…"

And suddenly it all fell into place. "Bellam."

"Aye. Bellam. So stare accusingly at me all you want. You're the one that's fucked up here."

How could he have been so stupid…? "I couldn't agree more."

….

Frail. That was the only word that came to mind when looking at his mentor, slumped in a chair that suddenly seemed a size too large, staring blankly out of the dusty window. The last faltering rays of daylight cast a pale orange hue over the room, accentuating the shadows that seemed to drape over his weary features. Although he had seen Bellam only hours before, the older dwarf's face seemed drawn, his eyes looked heavy and his shoulders sagged as if burdened by an invisible weight. In a way, Varric supposed they were.

Long moments passed as Varric stood in the doorway, yet his friend didn't move, didn't look up; made no sign to acknowledge his presence. He raised his hand and knocked lightly on the open door, wincing at the sharpness of the resulting thud.

"Insulting my skills, boy?" The aging marksman barely moved, turning just a fraction in greeting.

"…What?"

"Or insulting my intelligence? Do you really think I didn't know you were standing there?"

"You just seemed… distracted…" Varric offered, unsure how to proceed. Even as he stood there, knowing the truth, somewhere deep down it didn't seem right. Bellam loved Bianca, wanted to protect her. What if he was wrong? There was no reason for Bellam to betray Bianca. Was there?

But even if there was, he needed to protect Bartrand. He needed to be there for Bianca. He needed… he just needed to know.

"Are you gonna stand there with your jaw open all night or are you gonna come in?"

It was only then that Varric noticed the slur in Bellam's speech. He recognised it readily enough; the slowness of thought and speech that comes from one pint too many. As Varric entered, his gaze glanced furtively over the room's contents, falling to rest on the empty bottle of mead clutched in Bellam's grip. The merchant closed the door behind him and pulled in a breath, steadying himself. "Bellam, I need to ask you something…"

"You'd think I'd be happy now." The old dwarf stated boldy, making Varric blink in surprise.

"I would?"

"Aye. Woman that killed my son is gone. I've won."

The words stunned him. It wasn't quite an admission, but it was close enough. He fell silent as a wave of nausea hit him.

"I didn't realise this was a game," he ventured cautiously.

Bellam's eyes swerved to observe him, milky and unfocused. Varric was sure he could see the faint glitter of unshed tears. "Not a game, boy, a battle. A battle I've been fighting since my Graelen couldn't fight it anymore."

Varric's brow furrowed. That Bellam had spent all these years plotting and scheming against Juvia – against his friend's sister – was staggering. That nobody in all that time had realised was simply astounding. And for what, revenge? It wasn't Juvia's fault, she should never have been put in that position. "She was just a child," he vocalised the last of his thoughts.

"SO WAS HE!" Bellam barked, bringing the bottle in his hands crashing to the table in front of him. Varric jumped, but quickly found his centre. It was obvious by the redness in his eyes and nose that this was a display of grief, not anger.

Before him was a broken man.

He wondered briefly how he had never realised before, cursed himself for not noticing. How well the old man glued himself together every day, to pick up the pieces and carry on with no one even noticing the cracks.

"But even now," Bellam broke the silence before it could settle, "even after finally getting justice, after all the waiting and all the planning and all the hurt I've caused… not brought him back, have I?" The sob came out somewhat more of a gasp, which served to stifle any further tears. He took a moment to compose himself, although it did little to quell his evident sorrow. "How long have I waited, lad? Since I held him through his last breath it's all I've thought about. Have you ever seen it? Seen the light leave someone's eyes? Know that even though you still hold them, they're not there anymore…?"

The splutters and gasps grew heavier as the old man's defences shattered. Tears began to fall; a trickle at first, then building up to stream down his craggy features like rainwater down a rocky cliff face. "Hours he lay in my arms," he sobbed, "But I couldn't bring him back. Have you any idea what that's like? To know how much you have loved? To know that you will never hear their voice ever again? To know you'll never see them smile ever again? To know that the only thing you have to remember them by is the hole they have left in your chest?"

Bellam paused, and Varric tried to collate his thoughts, beginning to form some sort of platitude to try to calm his friend. Before he could open his mouth, however, the old man regained his composure, replacing his tears with a hard, bitter edge to his voice.

"And then she came back. Her tail between her legs. All she had to do was weep a bit for her brother and the old man was quick enough to forgive her. Ancestors knew I understood why, but that didn't change anything for me. He couldn't see what she was. Not like I could... But the bitch has always been clever. Never had an opportunity to prove it before…. Not until…"

Bellam's blistered eyes rose to greet Varric's gaze. "Not until…?" The merchant pressed hesitantly, suddenly uncomfortable about what was coming next.

"Not until you and your brother came onto the scene," Bellam confirmed Varric's fear, and the knot in his stomach tightened. "Using him was easy, arrogance breeds complacency and your brother is the most arrogant bastard I ever clapped eyes on… Wasn't hard to find all his little plans. Once I found out about his little Lyrium side-trade, ideas started forming."

"You set up Bartrand?!" He'd already realised that this must have been the case, but that didn't prepare him for hearing his mentor admit it.

"Don't be angry, boy. I didn't know it was him going to the Gallows that day. Was nothing personal. Thought he was too big a coward, and she would have to go sort it out. When even that didn't work, I had no choice…" Bellam's sobs wracked his shoulders once more and his gasps of despair filled the room. "It's what is right. It's only right she should pay for what she's done. So why are Bianca's tears all I can see?"

Varric felt his back stiffen. Although he had listened in relative quiet, his emotions were raging. "Because loving the people who love you is more important than vengeance?"

Bellam stared at him. A dumbfounded, disbelieving stare. "Spoken like a clueless…"

"I'm not the one breaking his heart weeping," Varric cut him off, with more bite than he'd intended.

Bellam sighed wearily. "Why did you come here, boy?"

The merchant's back stiffened, and he sucked in a deep breath, trying to force back his emotions. "To ask for mercy."

Bellam seemed to choke in disbelief. Finding no succour from his empty bottle, he seemed to magic a new source of mead from the side of his chair. He uncorked it unceremoniously, took a long swig and gasped in relief before answering. "And how would you find mercy from a wretch?"

"You've taught me a lot, Bellam. I'm asking you as a student, hell, as a friend… please, leave Bartrand out of this… They'd skin him if…"

Bellam chortled on his next swig. "As a friend?! Boy, ask me as a son."

Varric paused, the air suddenly very heavy. It was a small room, and the walls seemed closer than before. The moment stretched silently on, until he found his voice. "You see me as a son?" he asked, heart lurching in his chest. To use this man's trust and affection was wrong. It was betraying Bianca as much as Bellam. He knew that. But it was only a small betrayal. Bellam had already done so much, and surely only a little more wouldn't be noticed? He was only trying to protect his brother. She'd understand?

In contrast to the tightness in his own throat, Bellam seemed to relax. Whether because the truth was now free between them, or whether it was the effect of the drink truly kicking in didn't matter. He'd walked into this room with a purpose, and the Stone could take him before he left it undone. "You think I would trust Bianca with anyone?" Bellam cut him off before he could speak again. "Bartrand was the goal. I'd heard he was a nug-humper months before. Willing to trade his own grandmother for some pipeweed…"

"I didn't realise that story got out…" Varric grunted, in a vain attempt to dispel some of the residing tension in the room.

"You were a happy accident," Bellam continued, Varric's joke falling on deaf ears. "You were meant to be of no consequence. I have never been so happy to be wrong. When you threw yourself in front of her, risked your own life, I knew you were something more." The old man met his gaze, and Varric saw pride staring back at him. A father's pride in his son. "That's why I voted you in…"

Varric blinked. The words seemed wrong. "Bianca voted me in…"

Bellam shook his head, slowly. "No, that was me. Bianca nominated you. I saw to the rest. She needs someone like you. The rest of us, we're relics, clinging to what once was. In that much, Juvia was right…"

Varric thoughts raced. Bianca had never said it was her vote that saw him into the Inner Circle…. Had she? He felt so stupid. Did she actually care for him? Was he just an idiot, assuming that she did? Had he imagined it all? Suddenly his head hurt and he snatched the bottle from Bellam's hands, taking a deep swig. He felt the warming liquid slide down. To his surprise, Bellam was smiling when he finally came up for air. "Got it bad, eh? Boy?"

The young archer grunted moodily. "You could say that…"

The grey-bearded dwarf chuckled raspily. "I wouldn't worry on that score. She's been working on…. A gift for you for a while…"

"A gift?"

"Aye. But you were speaking of your brother. Drink makes my mind wander…" He snatched the bottle back from Varric's grasp and downed an impressive amount.

Varric waited a moment for Bellam to finish and wipe his lips before continuing. If he were to be honest with himself, he wasn't sure if Bartrand was worth it. But if Bianca had taught him anything, it was this… "Please don't tell anyone about the plans… Bartrand is my brother…"

"Why the hell would I betray you…?" The older dwarf began indignantly.

Their words were cut short by a creak just beyond the door. Varric hadn't heard any footsteps approach, but somebody was outside. Was someone listening? Bellam seemed to think so, as his hand dropped from his bottle to his crossbow. He nodded, to indicate he was ready. Inebriated he may be, but incapacitated he was not.

Varric quickly unshouldered and loaded his own weapon, hefting it in his right hand as he approached the door cautiously. The weight was reassuring as he reached for the doorknob, finger a hair's breadth from the trigger.

He didn't know what to expect on the other side of the door. Bartrand, perhaps? Making sure his little brother was cleaning up his mess? Or one of Juvia's lackeys, come to offer bribes, or threats?

He didn't expect Bianca, eyes blistered and red with her hair haphazardly matted to her face. She was not wearing her armour and seemed somehow small.

Had she heard Bellam's declaration of how Varric felt about her?

….Had she heard that the plans were Bartrand's?

…Had she heard of Bellam's schemeing?

So many thoughts flew around his head, distracting him, that he offered no resistance as she tackled him to the ground.

He hit the floor on his back with an almighty crash, as if of breaking glass, and a wave of heat washed over him. He grasped for Bianca's arm in panic, trying to ward off the inevitable blow, but it never came. Suddenly his senses returned, and everything was wrong. Above him, he saw the smashed window, and all around him seemed to be covered in tiny fragments of glass. A lone, golden flame stood in the centre of the room, inches from his head. As he watched, it flickered from orange to red, then to black and grey before fading from life, leaving only a small charred circle behind.

He tried to sit up, but Bianca was still on top of him…. Bianca! "Bianca?" His arms wrapped around her and he rolled her to the side when the only response was spluttered coughs. Somehow the way her grip held onto him steadfastly made his heart jump, in spite of the circumstances. "Bianca, are you hurt? Please, say something…"

"Learn to dodge, Newbie."

Varric felt the smile tug at his lips, as he looked down at her. Still spluttering, still red-eyed… still Bianca.

As she stuggled to sit up, her grip released him. She stared with hard eyes at where the floor was charred. "Was that magic?"

"Looks like it," replied Bellam, stepping out from the shadows in the corner of the room. When did he get there? The old man's chair lay on its back, at least a few feet away from where he now stood.

"Did you see who?" Varric asked.

The expression on his mentor's face was grave, and he gave Bianca an apologetic look before answering grimly... "Juvia."