Years ago, Varric had been angry. "Meet me in the alienage," she'd said. And when he did, everyone very nearly died.

Anders had razed the place to the ground, to ensure that no one would squat in the empty buildings after Cullen sealed the area off. Still, Varric had found his way back there once before, to tend to things that should have never been kept, and for closure.

Then he lost his nerve.

Funny, that he had to make his way back there, again. Every time, he always told himself it would be the last time. Strange, that what upset him the most was that it had been Merrill and not anyone else. He didn't like admitting it, but it was easier to anticipate the deaths of some more than others. Despite how heartbreaking, it would have been easier to digest Isabela improperly stacking the deck, or the valiant Guard Captain being felled by too many foes. Even the mighty Champion of Kirkwall not being able to smirk her way out of a situation made for a certain, rational sense.

Merrill had been different. She'd always been so sweet, naive and childlike, that despite her dangerous behavior, Varric had convinced himself that they could protect her, save her at the last moment. Maybe Fenris had the right of it, maybe killing her had been the kindest thing for her given the situation. That thought sat as poorly with Varric as the wistful nostalgia that slowed his pace toward the alienage.

They'd all left with scars. The day Merrill died was the day Isabela finally bought her ship. She'd been glib and crude, but when she grinned, it didn't crinkle the corners of her eyes. To him, that was sadder than the fact that he hadn't seen her since. Bethany may have been the more obvious tragedy as she opted for tranquility, but Varric had a sentimentality toward Isabela, his mirror reflection, the darling rogue who swallowed all her injuries.

The entrance way to the alienage still had the boards of wood the templars nailed across it. Red glowed faintly beyond the cracked and splintered wood, a sputtering and angry light. He wasn't sure if Justice blue or Fenris silver would have been better, but he had found the tune to his battle song; low, droning and just loud enough for his ears alone.

Things happened for a reason and it couldn't all be bad. Yes, Aveline's retirement was a forced one, and Donnic was quick to remind Varric that she couldn't bear the weight of her own children with that damaged shoulder thanks to them, but she was alive. Those two boys, or maybe three (it had been a while since they last talked,) were a blessing of sorts, with their flame red hair, ruddy cheeks and the way they made her smile when she thought no one was watching.

Tangled red hair, a gap toothed grin and scuffed knees. Ina had to have heard the fear in his voice when Varric made her promise. The vhenadahl in the center of the alienage was a blackened, scorched out husk of a mockery. Everything smelled of dirt and wet, rotting wood, it smelled like blood. It could never smell like honey or freesia or ale. Always blood.

Varric stepped over the shattered wooden barrier and cautiously edged down the steps and towards the red glow. The light was jagged and cut across the stone walkway in vicious patterns. What had Feynriel said? Broken mirrors were still mirrors.

Donal Amell sat, hunched and cross-legged in the dirt. The only recognizable thing left of Merrill's home was the dented chamber pot and part of her bed frame. The skeletal remains of the Eluvian stood before him, shard after shard of mirror being glued into place with the red light of Bartrand's artifact. The broken artifact piece hovered, an arms length in front of Donal. Varric dropped a hand to the shaft of his crossbow and the familiarity brought him comfort. He cleared his throat and gave Donal a wide berth.

"Hey, Gangles," Varric kept his voice calm and even. A tightly condensed spring pinched between two fingers. "What are you doing?"

"Varric?" Donal's head sunk lower toward his chin. He exhaled. "You know, before I left Ferelden, Cousland begged me to behave. His wife was more to the point; said that if I was going to do what she thought I was going to do, that I'd better be discreet because she'd want to execute me in private. The country still thinks I'm decent given that Blight nonsense."

Varric took a step closer to the other man. "Was the queen right?" he asked.

"She's always right," Donal replied. "Royal decree."

"I don't understand what you're doing," Varric said. Where were the others? Did they get caught up with what Anders started with the templars? Maybe Hawke was up in the gallows and she already found Ina. That would be nice. It lacked a certain theatricality, but it sure would be nice.

"You ever love someone?" Donal's words were pressured, awkward. The energy he was expending to control the artifact must have been incredible.

"Constantly. Always." So many times, but Varric had come to understand he was a glutton for punishment. Whether it was how Bianca smelled like harlot's blush, an odor that he sadly began to confuse with the scent of the lacquered bloodwood of his crossbow as the years passed, or how Bartrand would give a nod and little more when Varric did something amazing.

He had loved when Sebastian would say, "Maker watch over you" and legitimately mean it and Varric had loved how Bethany would first bite her lower lip when faced with an impossible task, then breathe a sigh and smile when he showed up and she knew she wouldn't have to face it alone. He loved the obscenity-laced gem that a drunken Isabela insisted was a Rivaini lullaby and he loved the tenacity that Aveline harnessed to shut the same drunken Isabela up.

Varric's hand drifted to the pocket that held the string. When he first gave it to Merrill, she'd spent the entire day tying up the whole of Lowtown. He'd had a lot of explaining to do to the angry vendors whose carts were connected with neat, little bows.

"Growing up in the Circle, I kind of had an extended adolescence," Donal said. The artifact piece wavered and dipped and he grunted. "We weren't granted a lot of privileges, but then were expected to behave like sane adults."

"This is how a sane adult behaves?" Varric asked. Where was Hawke?

Donal shook his head. "I only ever really loved one person. But I was a stupid, idiot, inexperienced man-child. All I did was make mistakes over and over again."

"Why don't you stop with the mistakes," Varric said. "Just step away from the mirror and we can all go home."

"You don't get it," Donal said. The mirror's reflection began to ripple and undulate. "Maybe you would if you saw her. If you knew her."

That was when the first dagger flew, high from the dead branches of the vhenadahl tree. It was a perfect shot, aimed straight for the largest piece of mirror in the center of the Eluvian, but the blade disintegrated as soon as it touched the red light.

"Oh, we get it, Donal," Hawke said. She hopped down from the branches and landed next to the tree's gnarled and exposed roots with a thud. "A woman for a city. It makes perfect sense if you're a selfish prat."

"How long were you going to leave me hanging, Hawke?" Varric asked. He pulled out his crossbow and loaded a bolt. "I was afraid you might be dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Me?" She laughed. "No, I was just doing that sneaky lurk in the shadow routine until I knew what I was facing. I was really hoping that he'd conveniently point out an off switch to his diabolical machine."

"A woman for a city, a woman for the world." Donal was breathing heavy and he muttered something unintelligible. "I don't want to bring her back, I want to join her. The world will heal; the world will forget about us."

"Wasn't that always our problem?" Anders asked. He stepped out past the dilapidated door frame of Feynriel's childhood home. "That I chose the world over you?"

There was a moment of hesitation from Hawke, then her eyes returned to Donal, cool and trained. "No, Anders. You chose slaughter. And you chose to involve me in it. A miniscule difference, I know, but it's there."

"I love heartwarming reunions," Donal said. "Now if Cullen and his friends could only stop hiding, we can get the celebrations underway. I do hope you brought tea and cakes, Cullen."

"I told you he saw us," Fenris grumbled as he, Cullen and Bethany emerged from behind a pile of debris.

"Yes, but it looks like we've some assistance, now," Cullen replied. He looked at Donal and shook his head. "Donal Amell. Have you really changed so much since the Ferelden Circle?"

Donal brought his hands together. "What about you, Cullen? Still paranoid and pining for the Surana girl?"

"As charming as ever, I see." Cullen sighed. "No, Donal, I can take a hint. When a lady is disinterested, I let her be, I don't rebuild an ancient portal tainted by demons and blood magic."

"I didn't use blood magic." Donal replied. "I can't stand blood magic. It leaves too obvious a trail for demons when you splatter pieces of yourself all over this world and the Fade for an incantation. This is just a bit I picked up from reading too many grimoires."

While Bethany stood there passively, Fenris already had his great sword unsheathed. Cullen stalled him with a look and tried again. "I can't allow you to complete whatever it is you're trying to accomplish. That eluvian is far too dangerous and if you fail-"

"But what if I succeed?" Donal pushed his hands through the air and the artifact piece drifted into the mirror.

The eluvian greedily sucked the artifact into itself and the reflective glass rippled like water. Hawke inched over to Varric, lowered her voice and tightened her smile. "My daughter, Tethras?"

"Safe," Varric told her.

"Good."

"No more games, Donal," Cullen said. "Away from the eluvian or you will be struck down."

"Fair enough." Donal hopped to his feet and raised his hands as he turned to face them. "I surrender. Do try to be gentle with me, kind sirs."

"I'd call bullshit," Varric whispered to Hawke, "if I weren't scared out of my mind."

Justice did it for them. The spirit tore through Anders' face and blotted out his eyes with blue light. The face may have been Anders', but the expressions were different and the voice wasn't his. "What machinations have you put into motion, mage?" Justice demanded. "The eluvian is reactivating."

"That's new," Donal said. He shot a glance to Cullen. "And you're worried about me?"

"He's not cooperating." Fenris' lyrium brands glinted silver as dusk settled upon them.

"Not really a fan of fighting in the dark, Hawke," Varric whispered.

"We did it before," she replied. He could remember, shadows dancing in the angry orange flames as the alienage burned. Not much of a comfort.

"I will not warn you again, Donal," Cullen said. He and Fenris both had their weapons trained on the mage.

"It's too late," Donal said. "Couldn't stop it now if I wanted. Pray that I'm right."

Varric's gaze was drawn to the mirror. There was a low hum resonating in a way that he could almost imagine the artifact and the whispers of song Bartrand raved about. The gentle lapping of red waves was beginning to slow and as they did, a figure was revealed in the glass. Large expanses of barely covered white skin, raven black hair and amber eyes. She was a looker, he had to give Donal that.

Donal was muttering, again. Quickly, deliberately and it made Varric's hackles raise. Fenris seemed to share Varric's sentiment and the elf swung his great sword down at the frail looking mage with such ferocity that it sent Donal sprawling back toward the eluvian despite the magical barrier he erected. On his back, he looked up and smiled at the face he saw in the mirror. "Hey there, you," Donal said.

"He stalled us with talk!" Justice fumed. Blue bolts of furious lightning burst from his hands and slammed into the barrier. "And you let him!"

"No one gets in," Donal said. "No one gets out. It's what I wanted."

"That's not so bad," Varric said. "Wouldn't it be nice if we were all overreacting?"

He nudged Hawke with his elbow and when that got no response, he glanced at her. Her eyes were as round as saucers. That's when he saw it, within the confines of the barrier.

Tangled red hair and little, scuffed knees. Hadn't he made himself clear? Ina's hands were splayed as she pressed them against the pearlescent blue of the barrier. Hawke quickly scrambled to the other side of the wall and began beating on it as hard as she could.

Donal hadn't noticed, yet, he was too enamored with his woman in the mirror. As he stared at her, his contented smile slowly turned into a frown. "It's not you, is it, love?" he said. "No, I suppose it wouldn't be, would it?"

Hawke was using her daggers on the barrier, and when that failed, she resorted to her fingernails. All the while, Bethany stood, detached, inhuman. Varric wondered if she could still be afraid. Ina began to cry over her mother's futile hysteria and torn fingernails.

Now Donal could see the child. His muttering grew to a string of audible obscenities as he frantically began to unweave the magic of the barrier. His arms swept in broad circles and Varric could feel the little hairs on the back of his neck stand erect as the filth that left Donal's mouth rapidly turned into a prayer.

"Containment," Cullen barked at Fenris and the elf nodded. The edges of the mirror bent and pushed outward as the woman inside the eluvian reached for their world.

The barrier was being unmade. As it dissipated, the blue grew paler and paler until it faded in its entirety. Varric shuddered as he made his way toward Hawke, toward Ina and he felt something bump against his leg. The ball of string had fallen from his pocket and was unraveling as it rolled across the ground.

It had all been so close. Had Donal reacted a second sooner, maybe two, maybe it would have been different. Hawke would have snatched her daughter up in her arms and regardless of what happened after, things would have been better.

Ina had her arms outstretched in anticipation. Mummy was there and Uncle Donal was doing his damnedest while Uncle Varric and Aunt Bethany stared on impotently. Varric saw the white hand, first. He saw it sink into the mass of red curls, he saw Ina's hazel eyes get covered with a film of radiating energy, black and tar-like, heard the unnatural pop as Ina's mouth fell open and the demon fully entered her body. Heard Hawke scream and scream and scream.

It was Merrill all over again.