Debris piled along the path to the large door outfitted with rusted locks. The entrance would have been easy to overlook: just a craggy nook along the base of the mountain.
"Here," the blighter indicated, his heavy, thick hand tugging at one of the locks.
"Looks like it hasn't been tampered with in…years," Varric pointed out, squinting in the glare of the bright snow. The wind whipped over them, sharp and icy.
"Good," Bartrand declared. "The fact it wasn't breached during the last Blight is reassuring, as well!"
They contemplated the mountainside.
"Any suggestions?" Varric inquired. "I don't recommend explosives."
Bartrand pressed his lips and glanced up to a precarious formation of rocks hovering overhead.
"We'll bury the entrance," Varric warned.
"Anything you can do with those locks?" Bartrand turned to him.
Varric took one the chunky metal locks in his hand. They were old and made of the hardest metal known in Thedas by dwarven master craftsmen. They're tough for good reason, he understood. They're supposed to keep folks out. He looked at the number of locks distributed around the door. Or…to keep other things in, he shivered.
"Rusted solid," he stated after a brief, perfunctory inspection. "Intentionally so. These weren't made to be functional locks. They were made to rust on the surface and make any attempts at lock picking a nightmare. I don't have any picks that would survive being wrenched into that." He pointed at what essentially looked like a hunk of knotted metal.
"Maybe we should knock?" Hawke offered. Varric whirled around, surprised at finding her standing close by. She had a mischievous gleam in her eyes and he felt a tad foolish over the flutter in his stomach at seeing her somewhat revived.
"Hmm… 'Special delivery for the Archdemon' schtick?" he joked back. "Could work. We've dealt with even stupider foes…"
"For fuck's sake," Bartrand groused, pushing past the others. "I didn't come this far just to be stopped by a few cruddy locks!" He eyed Hawke disdainfully. "Or a pack of jokers."
He stood before the unyielding façade with his arms akimbo.
"Blow the whole thing up!" he decided.
Small protests erupted all around them.
"Have you gone stark raving mad?" Varric cried. "We risk an avalanche doing that. We also risk announcing to the entire Frostbacks that we are here, piquing the interest of not only Orzammar, but possibly some far less desirable inhabitants!"
"I want in. Now!" Bartrand growled. "Each day we waste knocking around for an entrance is gold wasted! Unless you come up with a better plan, I am blowing a crater into this wretched mountain!"
Varric inhaled sharply and held his breath, noticing Hawke brushing her gloved hand over the locks out of the corner of his eyes. Bartrand stomped off towards a barrel left in the makeshift camp they had established and began barking orders.
"Varric," Hawke called, yanking at one of the locks. "I have an idea."
"Does it involve using my brother as a battering ram? Because if it does, I am all in," he muttered under his breath.
"I'm thinking…" she began.
"Does it hurt?" Varric grinned.
"Not as much as using YOU as a battering ram would," she retorted spryly, stepping back so she was next to him.
"So what have you got?" he asked.
"Remember when we had to break into that vault in Darktown?"
"What vault?" He furrowed his brow as he tried to remember. "We've broken into so many—"
"The Sanctuary," Hawke clarified. "Where we found the grimoire. Remember there was a lock we couldn't crack? Remember what you said? Something about how things that are harder aren't as good at absorbing blunt blows?"
"Yes…" he admitted. "I do remember…But that was about a regular lock. I couldn't pick it, but one good strike from Aveline's sword was enough to shatter it. That's not going to happen here."
"But what if?..." Hawke rubbed the top of her hood. "Do we have mallets?"
"Is the Divine Andrastean?" He peered over his shoulder, towards the camp.
"Bethany!" Hawke signaled. "Get over here!"
Bethany hobbled over a pile of rocks strewn over the path.
"What is it?"
"Freeze this lock," Hawke ordered her.
Bethany balked.
"Freeze it? I'd say it's pretty frozen already!"
Varric tilted his head and stared at the lock before shifting his gaze to Hawke. He began nodding very slowly.
"You might be on to something!"
"Can you do it or not?" Hawke huffed impatiently.
"I can try, but I honestly don't see what good that—"
"Go, go, go!" Hawke urged her, indicating the lock. Bethany grumbled before removing her gloves and taking the lock between her hands. Varric rushed to the camp, in search of a mallet. He returned just in time to catch one of the locks turning white from Bethany's spell.
"Frozen solid," Hawke announced, pleased. "Ready?"
Varric heaved the mallet up and bore it down with all his might over the lock. Some pebbles rolled down from a small ledge that had been acting like a dam against some debris overhead, but neither the mountain...or the lock budged.
"Again!" Hawke encouraged him.
He hoisted it up once more and unleashed it squarely over the lock. This time, one of the corners shattered.
"Shit!" Varric turned to look at Hawke, impressed. The two shared a wild grin. After a volley of strikes, the lock crumbled off cleanly. "That was genius! Of course! The metal would become less flexible and brittle when frozen so thoroughly like that!"
"Beauty AND brains," Hawke informed her sister smugly as she tapped her head.
"Bethany, can you freeze the other locks? Let me tell Bartrand before he ends up blowing us all up as celebratory fireworks! We're going in!" he cheered.
Hawke had never seen anything like it.
She had imagined the Deep Roads as something very different—similar to the rustic mine tunnels she had explored during various missions. Nothing had prepared her for the sight of an almost intact passageway. The rocky terrain gradually gave way to smooth polished stone tiles lit by the radiant glow from crevices running along the wall.
"Magma," Varric explained. "These passageways are lit by filaments of magma channeled into conduits carved in the rock." Hawke began to lean over to peer downwards. "Don't!" he cautioned. "They are pretty far down, but every once in a while you get a smaller eruption. It's best to stay away."
"Wow," Hawke uttered quietly, marveling at the ornate friezes, the high architraves, and the massive piers running down the broad and expansive corridor. "Can you believe this?"
"Not bad, huh?"
He nodded nonchalantly, but in truth, he did not want to betray the awe he felt in seeing the many illustrations from the books of his childhood come to life before his eyes.
The main passageway reminded Hawke of a large tree trunk that branched off into multiple directions. She noticed that as they wandered further down, many of the side corridors had caved in or led to dismal darkness. Occasionally they passed balustrades with red lanterns glowing as if they had just been set down to guide them.
"Those have been glowing for hundreds of years, for all we know," Varric whispered, following Hawke's gaze.
"How is it possible?" Bethany wondered. "It's not magic."
"No," he agreed. "It's pyrophoricity. We dwarves discovered, long ago, that certain metals ignite when they come into contact with air." All those books, all those lessons, even fragments of conversations he'd had with Bianca…It was all there. All real.
"Can you imagine what this must have been like in its heyday?" Hawke mused. "It's very impressive. Just… beautiful."
"And filled with lovely darkspawn," Anders added glumly.
"Sense any yet?" Bethany asked.
"Nothing close by, no," Anders replied uneasily. "But don't worry: they're around."
Just as they began approaching a larger opening towards a bridge spanning over a deep chasm, one of the scouts Bartrand had dispatched to verify the stability of the passageway emerged. Bartrand raised a cautioning hand, forcing them to halt their march.
"There's been a collapse," the scout reported. "The way forward is blocked."
Ahead a misty haze hovered in the air giving the area an otherworldly feel. The tiles had, in fact, appeared more damaged, more dilapidated as they approached the bridge. Rock spalls spilled over the path and a larger pile of rubble obstructed their way.
"What? Is there some way around?" Bartrand sized up the scout, stepping towards him in a menacing way. The scout took a few steps back, eager to avoid the dwarf's wrath at the unwelcome news.
"Not that I've been able to find," he apologized. "The side passages are too dangerous."
Bartrand raised his hand to his beard and tugged at it pensively. He appeared to shrug for a moment, before he quickly cocked his arm back and struck the unfortunate scout with a blow to the head.
"Useless!" he roared, as the man toppled to the ground dazedly. "What am I paying you blighters for?"
It was as if a collective shudder coursed through their party at the display of rage.
"Set camp!" he cried out.
The hirelings dispersed, quickly fanning out and securing a quiet spot further from the rubble and passageways to hunker down for the night.
"Older siblings…so difficult…" Bethany sighed to Varric.
"You know, that only applies to dwarven siblings," Hawke sniffed.
Varric stared at the fallen scout who was rubbing his jaw. He exhaled heavily.
"I should probably go talk to him." He looked at Anders, Bethany, and Hawke, who had remained close to him, as if they constituted their own separate party. "Go put your packs down. We're not going anywhere for a bit."
Hawke remained by his side, even as Anders and Bethany joined the others. Just as he was about to step forward, he felt Hawke's hand alight on his shoulder. She squeezed it gently.
"Hey… Is everything all right?"
He cast a quick glance to the side, making sure Bartrand was not watching them. Satisfied they were being largely ignored, he clasped her hand and let his fingers graze over hers.
Maker, he'd missed her something awful. He hadn't had a moment alone with her…not really, not since they'd left Kirkwall.
"Hey yourself. I was about to ask you the same thing," he said gently.
"Are we having fun yet?" she asked warily. He couldn't help chuckling.
"There's been some mistake, you see," she continued. "This is the worst vacation trip…" she continued, feigning confusion.
"This is a fucking mess," he lamented quietly. "I hope we don't regret this."
"When we're ridiculously rich, we can laugh about this. You'd better embellish the crap out of this adventure when you write about it."
"At the rate we're going, I may not have to. It's pretty unbelievable as it is."
"I can't wait until we hit all the Deep Road souvenir merchants!" she joked.
At Varric's silence, she squeezed his shoulder again.
"We're going to find a way. We can do this. Are you worried at all? Don't you worry."
He smiled sadly.
"Why did you have to go and say that? I was the one supposed to be giving you the pep talk."
"Great minds think—"
"Are you ok?" he asked, gripping her hand firmly. "You haven't been quite yourself."
"This mountain air is brutal for my complexion," she confessed playfully.
"Come on," he urged her.
"I'm just nervous," she stated. "I prefer it when it's just us on a mission—no Bartrand, no blighters…"
"It's more than that. There's something you're not telling me. Something hasn't been right since we left Kirkwall."
Hawke hesitated.
"You are so extremely annoying," she huffed. "Why can't you be more self-absorbed and focus on this expedition instead?" she censured him. He grinned.
"So?"
"What?"
"It has to do with your mother, doesn't it?"
Her hand slid off his shoulder and fell to her side despondently.
"Can we talk about this later?"
"Fine," he agreed. "But I want you to know this much: don't let her determine your worth, Hawke."
She appeared at a loss for words.
"Her bitterness is her problem—not yours."
"She hasn't forgiven me for what happened to Carver, you know," she whispered. "I'd be lying if I said it hasn't been weighing on me. Especially now, given the circumstances..."
"There's nothing to forgive."
"I fucked up and she's afraid I'll do it again... If I had charged the ogre back in Lothering, Carver would still be here."
"Perhaps," Varric nodded, interrupting that conversation they had shared several times before. "Or perhaps you'd be dead. And she would be blaming Carver. Or Bethany. Or maybe you would all be dead. There is no way of knowing for sure. It's a pointless scenario to entertain. You are here. " He clasped her arm. "You."
Her lip quivered slightly.
"And I couldn't be more thankful," he said tenderly. He noticed Bartrand peering about impatiently. "Damn it. I feel like we're being chaperoned at a Chantry ball. Can we continue this later on?"
She nodded.
"Really? You're not going to try to joke your way out of this one?"
"I might try," she admitted, smiling wanly.
"Looking forward to it, then." He winked, forcing himself to step away from her side.
"Problems, Brother?" Varric asked as he approached Bartrand.
"Sodding Deep Roads! Who knows how long it'll take to clear the path?"
And how many hirelings will remain after your temper tantrums…Varric wondered.
"Shall we not try to find a way around, instead? Seems like the logical choice," Varric pointed out calmly.
Bartrand blew up.
"You think I'm an idiot, Varric? The scouts say the side passages are too dangerous!"
Varric opened his mouth to offer a suggestion when Hawke interrupted.
"See? This is why you bring someone like me along."
He remembered what she had told him: I prefer it when it's just us on a mission—no Bartrand, no blighters…
Perhaps it could be arranged—at least for a little while.
"We'll take a look. If we come running back, screaming, you'll know staying put was the right decision," Varric proposed.
Bartrand's glare shifted between him and Hawke.
"Fine, fine!" he agreed testily. "Find a way around. Just... do it quickly!"
He turned his back to them and went towards the newly laid out camp.
"Shall we?" He cocked an eyebrow gallantly at her as he indicated a dismal passageway back towards where they had come from.
"Bethany! Anders! Gear up!" she called out. "It's like you read my mind." She turned to look at him. "Varric, you do know how to charm a woman."
"Who needs bonbons and bouquets when we've got deteriorating passageways swarming with darkspawn?" he joked, adjusting Bianca over his back. They watched Bethany and Anders haul their packs on and walk towards them.
"Can you guys smell that?" Hawke asked them, inhaling deeply, as they began to head down the passageway.
"Yes: it smells like curses and damnation," Bethany complained.
"I'd just like to clarify that it wasn't me," Anders chimed in.
"Smells like adventure." She was smiling, a fierce determination in her expression.
A/N: Bartrand's dialogue with the scout and his overreaction are straight from the game, as well as Varric's proposal that they take a small party to find a different way into the Deep Roads. Bursts of magma were a thing in those passageways. Don't touch the walls.
And I spent an evening reading up on the difference between lava and magma, pyrophoricity and radioactive elements because that's how much I love you people.