"So your Almerric was the one who spirited away the two elves?"
"He wasn't my Almerric at the time. I suspect he was the one who rescued them, but such things could not be said aloud."
Acippa blew a wet raspberry. "Malarky, you two sounded like you were flirting up a storm there. Or is that another thing you can't talk out loud about, like the secret code in the stitches?"
"Both are top level secrets. If I told you, I'd have to erase your memories with my mind."
Acippa huffed in displeasure, and scowled sullenly at a nearby rock for a bit before letting the topic go.
"Did you ever find out what the stitches meant?" Acippa asked curiously.
"No, it wasn't for me to know."
"Hmph. Some secret. What's the point of having a secret in your hands if you don't know what it is?" Acippa sighed. "So what happened next?"
It was a warm spring morning, still damp from the winter rains.
"Varania! I've a letter for you!" Almerric came trotting into the tiny shop, holding a slim envelope aloft.
Varania frowned in puzzlement, but turned from the mannequin adorned with the silver threaded gown she'd been working on.
"A letter?"
"Postmarked from the Free Marches," Almerric waggled his eyebrows meaningfully.
Oh no.
Varania's heart plummeted. "Would you read it to me please?" she asked quietly, folding her arms across her chest.
Almerric nodded, broke the seal and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of paper covered in the script of a carefully printed hand.
She stared into the distance as he read it aloud and wondered if it really was her little brother, if he had written the letter himself, or if he had dictated it to a scribe. Allowing herself a flight of fancy, she imagined him writing it—she smiled at the thought—the words sounded so unsure, but they had the same brevity he had always spoken with. She could hear him puzzle over what to write to a sister who could not read. She tried to imagine his life in the city of Kirkwall. Did he live in a house? Was he in an Alienage? Was he a sword for hire? She tried to imagine what it was like to live outside the Imperium, but could not.
Almerric paused at the end of the letter, furrowing his brow. "It's signed Fenris. I thought your brother's name was Leto?"
Fenris?
Varania's eyes flicked away and she sat down.
"I don't know anyone named Fenris." A sadness draped inside her chest, weighing her rib cage down as if trying to crush her from the inside out. She had hoped it was him, but it wasn't.
"But he claims he's your brother."
A false name, perhaps?
She shook her head. "Perhaps he meant a different Varania."
It doesn't matter if it is him or not. This will not end well. This must end now.
"Do you want me to write a letter to him for you?"
Varania paused, and then nodded.
And pray that he doesn't write back.
Almerric pulled out a charcoal stick and a scrap of paper to note down her words—he'd copy them later onto a more presentable document.
"Fenris," she said, the name hissing between her teeth strangely, "I believe you have mistaken me for someone else, and for that I apologize. I wish you good luck, and I hope you find your sister. Sincerely, Varania."
A/N: Thanks to Easternviolet for betareading!