Dwarves didn't dream, with the one exception of the Inquisitor. Varric could never hope to touch the fade himself, barring a similarly cataclysmic event. He mostly didn't mind. He'd seen Hawke twisting in his sheets, sleeping off alcohol fueled mourning, tormented by her mother's murdered corpse. He'd heard Fenris pacing and swearing, haunting the halls of the house in Llomeryn. He'd seen Merrill crying for her lost keeper and Isabela slamming back shots to ensure a night without dreams. He'd watched Maria Cadash awake and restless, building a tower of cards to stave off the fade clinging to her mind.
His own two visits to the fade hadn't exactly made him eager to return every night. Maker's ass, he still shivered at the thought of the Nightmare demon looming up over them. Rivaini and Broody had turned on him and Hawke in the fade the first time, because demons were shit. Yeah, Varric could gladly go his whole life without thinking about the fade ever again. Except…
He laid in the bunk on the ship, listening to Dorian's snoring, and wished he could see Maria. His mind was a traitorous thing, he was certain he had the color of her hair down, the way her voice sounded when he kissed her skin in the places she loved. He could conjure a perfect picture of her in his head, but that picture couldn't touch him, couldn't whisper in his ear. At least, if he was in the fade, he'd get blissful hours of her company before waking up to aching loneliness.
And that was exactly why he'd be a shitty mage. The first desire demon to slap on Maria's face would have his soul and whatever else it wanted. He was never one to resist temptation.
Bianca visiting Kirkwall was a rare and luxurious risk. But he'd been so busy dealing with the fallout from the Deep Roads, he'd had hardly any time. This had come as an unexpected boon. Between dealing with their newly acquired fortune, his new responsibilities thanking to that ass Bartrand, and liberally spreading enough gold in bribes over the city to cover a squatting elf, three apostates, and a pirate from any trouble that could be brought down on them, he'd been too busy to scheme and pine.
And the Merchant's Guild had grown complacent, perhaps thinking he'd settled into a life they kept trying to buttonhole him into. But he didn't give up his suite at the Hanged Man, he didn't ditch the disaster-prione apostate, and he didn't give up Bianca. They could pry all those things out of his cold, dead hands.
But it'd been reckless, and after they'd shot the first three assassins, he'd bundled Bianca out the door and dashed up to Hawke's new estate. The door was locked, but Varric had a key. Andraste must have been smiling on him, because Hawke was alone with her mabari, reclining in the study with the hound on her feet and a book of smutty poetry in her lap. She looked up from her book, startled, placing the glass of wine on the floor. "Maker's ass, Varric. You'll wake up mother and I'll never hear the end of it."
"I think she'd be more disappointed in your reading material." Varric muttered, slamming the door shut behind him. "I stock this decadent hovel with the best literature, and that shit is what you're reading?"
"Anders just left." Hawke shrugged, fanning herself with the book. "What's a girl to do when she's surrounding by all these handsome men who are too interested in oiling swords, dipping quills, and fingering gears?"
"You could do Isabela." Varric remarked, snapping the curtains closed as Hawke's head tipped to the side and concern laced through her humor. "Hawke, meet Bianca. Bianca, Hawke."
"You're Hawke?" Bianca asked dubiously, eyes flicking humorlessly to Varric and back, sweeping up Hawke's mostly bare legs, the short robe snug around her waist, the deep neckline emphasizing but not revealing her cleavage.
And suddenly, Varric wished Hawke lounged around reading her smut in many more layers of clothing. Maybe those robes the Chantry sisters wore.
"You're Bianca!" Hawke exclaimed, almost girlish in her excitement, rising from the couch with as much joy as her Mabari when he was greeting someone at the door.
Before they could say anything else, a crossbow bolt shattered one of Hawke's windows and landed, trembling, in the wall. "A bit of help, Hawke?" Varric asked.
Maybe he should rethink the plan to haul Hawke and Broody back to Skyhold by their respective ears. It may have been a blessing in disguise for Hawke, pretty enough for a human, to be away from his burgeoning courtship. But Maria hadn't looked in the least bit jealous, even drunk, when she found out Hawke was crashing in his bed.
Still, he'd get them their own bed. Far away from his. Other end of Skyhold far away. Maybe in the stables.
Or, he thought hopefully, he could just move all his things up to the Inquisitor's rooms after confessing his love with ballads and rose petals. All those damn stairs, though.
"Varric, are you awake?" Cassandra asked quietly.
"Who could sleep with that damn Tevinter snoring? It's a crime against the Maker, seeker. You should do something." Varic huffed, turning on his side.
He could almost picture the serious, thoughtful features of her face puzzling over that. "I could smother him."
"Seeker, you're joking! Who's the good influence? Maria, or dare I say, a much manlier dwarf?" Varric teased.
"I should not have asked about Bianca. It was wrong to pry." Cassandra stated evenly. "I had a lover named Regalyan, a mage. He died in the Conclave. I had not seen him for some time but…"
"Shit, Seeker, you don't have to tell me this." Varric pleaded, pulling himself up on his elbow. "We were square."
"I am a woman of few friends, and I lost many that day, many before that in the war. I fear I shall lose more before this is finished." She paused, he could almost hear her chewing her lip. "I had a dream as vivid as if it was real, as if I could read the future in the fade. I saw us together, Solas, you, Maria and me. As it was in the beginning on that mountain path. It sounds idiotic, I know, but I realized then I was surrounded by friends."
Varric didn't know what to say, but before the silence could stretch on uncomfortably, a snore that would have sounded more likely coming from the Iron Bull nearly shook the room. "Oh for the love of the Maker!" Cassandra exclaimed, followed by a soft whump of a pillow thrown with excessive force and furious, half-formed curses in Tevene.
"What is it?" Dorian sputtered, "Under attack!"
"Don't be so dramatic, sparkler. Ships rock, things get shaken loose, go back to sleep." Varric covered smoothly with a grin hidden in the dark.
The boat docked in Cumberland two days later, with none of them significantly worse for wear. He was pretty sure there was an unspoken pact between him and the Seeker that if someone needed to be sacrificed for the greater good, it would certainly be Dorian. The mage was looking disgustingly dewy eyed at a memorial made of human bones stacked into a macabre sculpture of Andraste.
"Seeker, your dour personality is becoming more forgivable by the second." Varric commented wryly.
"I am distinctly remembering why I left, yes." She admitted, eying the sculpture with a scowl.
"She's a masterpiece! Do you think the Inquisitor would let me recreate her from the bodies of Venatori?" Dorian asked with a flashy grin.
"Absolutely not." Cassandra stated unequivocally.
"I'll make a bet with you, she'll close another damn hole in the sky before Maria allows a monstrosity like that." Varric drawled.
"A deal! How many more holes can possibly occur in the sky?" Dorian chirped.
Before anything else could be said, a man appeared beside Dorian, glaring suspiciously at the staff on his back. He spat in the dirt at Dorian's feet before moving past.
"Well, he didn't even give me a chance to be charming." Dorian muttered.
"Tensions are high here. There are refugees from the Mage and Templar war at the College of Magi, mages who refused to fight or bow, mostly the young and elderly." Cassandra pointed to a graceful spiral looming high in the distance. "The population blames them for a variety of ills."
"My favorite rumor is that mages can cause boils by glaring. I'm sure Hawke would have used that quite a lot if she could have." Varric remarked cheerfully.
"There must be quite a lot of knowledge in that remarkably pointy building." Dorian said wistfully. "Has the Inquisitor…?"
"She's sent personal invitations for them to come to Skyhold, but they don't trust her either. Not much Maria can do except try to figure out who's to blame for spreading all this filth around." Varric shrugged. "Nightingale is pretty sure it's our old friends the Venatori."
"One of the few groups of people who may be improved with boils." Dorian sighed. "I shall endeavor to stay behind Seeker Pentaghast and avoid giving the local populace the evil eye."
"Oy!" A booming voice yelled from behind him. Varric turned, one hand already reaching for Bianca. He saw a bulky dwarf ambling toward him, a wicked double edged ax on his back. "Tethras, right? And Seeker Pentaghast?"
"Depends on who's asking." Varric said lightly. The man grinned, his tattoos stretching over his cheeks. Legion of the dead tattoos.
"Message here from Skyhold." The man said, producing a crumpled looking missive from his gleaming armor. "Of course, if you don't want it, the boys and I'd love to know what it says."
"What is a member of the legion doing here?" Varric asked as he reached for the paper.
"King Bhelen supports the Inquisition." The man said simply. "My name's Korbin. I'd complain about running menial errands, but I'm so sick of those damn humans at the college in their fuckin' skirts, I'd run errands all day long."
"Well I'm sure they're just as charmed by you." Dorian muttered.
"Whole place is a simmering hotbed of mistrust. We could get those kids and old folks to Skyhold, but the skirts in charge don't trust the Inquisitor. Want her to dismiss Commander Cullen and promise mages will be free. She won't do the one and can't do the other. They've got some artifacts in that buildin' we think the Venatori want and we can't let them get their grubby fingers on 'em. It's a fuckin' mess."
"What is the plan?" Cassandra asked, scowling at the spire.
"Inquisitor says no force is to be used on the refugees. She's tryin' to get the Duke here to clamp down on this mob mentality, but no good so far. Our other option is to leave the skirts to their own devices and steal the artifacts. Ain't none of us feel good about tossin' those children to the mob, though." Korbin scratched his beard thoughtfully. "I suppose you aren't here with a new brilliliant plan?"
"Sorry to disappoint." Dorian said dryly. "Politics, right? In Tevinter we'd just start assassinating."
"Gotta admire the cleaness of it, at least." Korbin shrugged, eying Varric speculatively. "Interesting rumors outta Skyhold about the Inquisitor and a deshyr, know anything about that?"
"Is the Inquisitor's private life fodder for gossip out here? I'm sure she'll be delighted." Cassandra's voice made the threat clear. Korbin shrugged and began to walk away, whistling.
"What's the message say?" Dorian asked impatiently as Varric unrolled the scroll.
Varric,
Message from Minrathous. All well by skin of their teeth. Ivy returning to city and the rest are flying south.
Cole keeps bringing me those blue flowers and says you'd bring them if you were here. I miss you, you ass. Be safe.
Maria
Tension he'd been carrying for days melted from his shoulders and he grinned, shoving the missive in his coat pocket. "Hawke managed to slip out of Minrathous after all, so storming the city isn't going to be necessary."
"Thank the Maker." Cassandra whispered fervently. "With any luck, we will meet them at the border and not step foot in Tevinter."
"You obviously haven't gotten the memo about our luck, Seeker. It's never quite that good." Varric observed. "And Hawke has, if nothing else, a knack for finding the most impossible situations."
So he wasn't particularly surprised when, upon leaving Cumberland, they were beset upon by Venatori agents. In retrospect, he was sure they made an enticing target. Three close advisors to the Inquisitor herself traipsing closer and closer to the border of Tevinter? When he looked at Cassandra and Dorian, he saw the thought in their faces too, and something deeper.
"Why did you really come, Sparkler?" Varric asked the second night they camped along the Imperial highway. Cassandra had excused herself to bathe in a nearby stream and clean the blood from her armor.
"For glory? To strike a bloody nose against the worst of my homeland?" Dorian offered gamely, sniffing at the ale they'd brought with them.
"All things you're more likely to get by Maria's side than mine." Varric pointed out.
"Perhaps." Dorian agreed. Varric waited patiently, weighing the mage with his gaze until the man cursed.
"Fasta vass! If you must know, there are two reasons I am here. The first is, my dwarven friend, rumors of your liaison with the Inquisitor are rife. The idea of you leaving and going anywhere on your own is preposterous, do you know what the Venatori would do if they got their grimy hands on you?" He challenged.
"I imagine I've seen worse." Varric replied easily.
"Did she ever tell you what she saw at Redcliffe?" Dorian asked after a beat. "Not the official version, the one in the report. Has she ever told you what really happened?"
"She saw me die. I know that." Varric thought back to that night, Maria woken from a nightmare, whispering that they'd all died to save her. That it had been real, even as he'd crooned it was only a nightmare. "She said we all died."
"I'll paint you a picture then. We find ourselves in Redcliffe Castle's dungeons facing down demons and Venatori, red lyrium spiking out everywhere. We find you, Sera, and Blackwall alive in the dungeons, but slowly going crazy with red lyrium poisoning. Do you think Sera doesn't make sense now? Maker, Sera on red lyrium is even worse. Cullen was in the cells too, with the red lyrium growing out of his body, Varric. Maria slit his throat rather than leave him that way." Dorian's voice shook, but he continued.
"Bull's horns were on display in the great hall like a trophy. They were torturing Leliana, her face was so scarred I could hardly recognize her. We stepped over Vivienne's dessicated corpse to face Alexius, and Maria didn't stop. Alexius told her he'd murdered her sister, and she didn't stop." Dorian sighed, rubbed his face. He looked older now, haunted. "You told her you were sorry. That you thought, maybe, you could have loved her. You said that you wanted to tell her that the night before we'd gone to Redcliffe Castle. You said that if you'd had the chance, you'd have spent your whole life trying to make her laugh. Then you kissed her cheek and walked out the door. She was shaking, bow pointed at the door. Kaffas, I was trying to open the portal and the door broke down, a demon tossed your body to the ground. What was left of it, anyway. Do you know what she did?"
Varric was afraid to ask. "I'm hoping stayed by your side and let you work your magic to end the whole nightmare."
Dorian snorted impatiently, downing the ale he'd been eying so mistrustfully. "Of course she didn't. She tried to run off, I had to grab her and hold her. She lost her mind, after everything she had seen and done, that caused her to break. She would have sacrificed the world for you. The Venatori don't know that, not yet. But that woman loves you. After all she has done for me, for Thedas, I would not see her forced to choose between the world and you again."
For the first time in recent memory, Varric was at a loss for words. "Guess that explains why she punched Alexius."
"That was glorious, wasn't it?" Dorian reclined with a dreamy sigh. Varric's mind was swirling with deeply unpleasant pictures, the agony on Maria's face when she faced the burning city in the fade, but the setting replaced with the throne room of Redcliffe castle. Maria Cadash was a woman who loved deeply, loved fully.
Varric was suddenly quite humbled.
"The second reason?" Varric asked as the silence stretched on.
"I have done nothing to stop a system that kept your angry elf friend in chains. That allowed, encouraged abuses of such magnitude that nothing would be adequate compensation. I was blind to it, and when I was no longer blind, I still did nothing. Doing this is still not enough, I fear, but it is a start." Dorian allowed a self-deprecating smile. "Perhaps it will do a bit to dispel the notion of the evil Magister sweeping in from the north."
"You're a good man, Dorian." Varric commented.
"Don't let it get out, or it'll ruin my reputation." Dorian warned.
Despite Dorian's pleading, they did not detour to the grand necropolis. Cassandra also studiously refused to allow either of them call her Pentaghast and made various threats of bodily harm to them if she so much as heard it. Varric suspected she was more afraid of being recognized as a Pentaghast then the roving bands of Venatori they kept running into.
The roving bands were proving a pretty genuine concern, though. Particularly when they found a scribbled letter in the pockets of one referring to a rather large reward of gold for any who captured "Danarius's pet wolf and his whore."
"Why would the Venatori care?" Varric asked, wiping his brow with his sleeve.
"Corypheus loves powerful artifacts." Dorian said glumly. "To him, perhaps that is all your friend is."
"A weapon." Cassandra sneered.
"Perhaps they wish to peel the lyrium from his skin. It would be worth a small fortune, yes?" Dorian inquired. "Or perhaps just to make an example of him for humiliating Tevinter."
"We're cutting through them quite nicely, Seeker. Every reason to think Hawke and Fenris are as well." Varric said brightly.
"They are traveling with a child. I suspect they are avoiding as many battles as possible." Cassandra mopped her own brow, peering into the distance. "Another day or so and we shall be at the border."
The news there was no more encouraging then it had been at the coast. An Inquisition scout greeted them warmly and gestured to the desolate fields stretching before them. "Welcome to the ass end of everywhere. This lovely vista is called the Silent Plains."
"It was the sight of the final battle with the Archdemon Dumat during the first blight. The archdemon was felled here, defeated by an army led by the first Grey Wardens." Cassandra said, looking out over the bleak, gray, and dusty landscape.
"Grounds so tainted nothing ever grew again." Dorian added quietly.
"Venatori are out here trying to locate the sight where the archdemon fell, for what ends we can't be sure." The scout reported.
"Relatively certain they're nefarious." Varric commented. The scout smiled.
"Oh, most definitely nefarious. We've found sites of blood magic ritual. We've taken care of the dead, Seeker, as respectfully as we can. Mostly elves." The scout continued.
"Slaves." Dorian said softly.
"We've got troops here from Tevinter and Nevarra trying to stop them, but both sides are in a pissing match about it. There's a large Venatori encampment in between here and the Tevinter forces on the other side of the plains. Inquisition is loaning support to try to stop whatever is going on here." The scout sighed, shaking his head.
"The Champion and her husband will need to avoid both the Tevinter army and the Venatori." Cassandra observed. "Is there a way to do so?"
"The Champion? Of Kirkwall? Here?" The scout said dubiously. "We've seen no sign of anyone but Venatori and the soldiers. If a rescue is needed…"
"We're the rescue party." Dorian said with a grin. "Unofficially. Officially, there is no Inquisition rescue."
"Right." The scout said, sighing. "I've got a map of the plains that's pretty good. I'll get it for you to take a look at, Seeker."
Dorian had peeled off, holding up an artifact, his eyes narrowing. "Where was this found?" He asked the scout, holding it aloft.
"At one of the Venatori camps that the Nevarran forces took. One of the soldiers says his great aunt's a mortalitasi and it looked familiar." The scout reported .Cassandra turned and looked as well, tilting her head.
"It is a talisman used to aid a mage in raising the dead." Dorian explained. "This one has runes inscribed to alter its purpose."
"Nice of the Venatori to recycle." Varric commented dryly.
"It's purpose is now no longer to raise a human body, but a beast. A very large, winged beast." Dorian said slowly, staring at Cassandra. "Perhaps of Archdemon size?"
There was only one word for this situation, and Varric knew it as Cassandra tensed and reached for her sword. "Shit."
