Varric tucked his pencil back behind his ear and sat back in his chair with a sigh. He'd snuck off to the library to get some work done, but he couldn't settle to it. The reunion with Hawke just wasn't flowing the way he'd have liked. Besides, he wasn't used to sharing his living space with the chaos that she always seemed to carry with her. Funny how quickly he could forget a thing like that. Of course, in the old days she'd had her own place and he could leave it behind at the end of the day. But even putting that aside, things just didn't feel right.

For starters, Fenris had somehow gotten himself locked in the cellar in the early hours of the morning. He'd given the cook the fright of her life with his sudden violent pounding on the cellar door. She'd opened it to find him standing there covered in blood. So Varric had spent the first hour of his day — before tea — trying to convince her not to quit. When questioned, Fenris had nothing useful to say. The blood seemed mostly to belong to other people, but Varric knew better than to ask about the swelling cut over his eye. He hoped that if Fenris had been stupid enough to go down to Darktown, he'd at least killed all the witnesses.

After that, he kept finding Sebastian everywhere he went. The man wandered around the house like a ghost, always moving but never landing anywhere. His endless pacing made it impossible for anyone else to relax. He pulled books off the shelves and set them down again without even opening them, and hovered under the library windows — though as with most Hightown homes, they were placed too high up the walls to offer much of a view. He smiled that stupid flat smile when he caught you looking at him, but frowned when he thought himself unseen. Varric had a nagging feeling that he ought to have some sympathy for the fellow, but he didn't particularly want to. It was aggravating.

Hawke was the worst of all. Guard Lieutenant Brennan had dropped by unexpectedly in the late morning with Penny the mabari in tow. Varric had briefly worried about his new furniture, but he needn't have; the dog had grown old. For two solid hours, Hawke lay on the floor before the fireplace, talking to the dog as though the beast could understand her. She rubbed her ears and sighed over the grey hairs in her muzzle while Penny slowly wagged her stub of a tail. It all went wrong when Brennan came back to reclaim the dog. Obviously the dog known as Aveline's mabari couldn't take up residence in Varric's house, especially without the Guard Captain present, but for a few tense moments it looked like the beast would refuse to leave. Hawke seemed unable to order Penny to go, or to stop growling at Brennan, Varric, and everyone not-Hawke in the general vicinity. Eventually he convinced Hawke to give the command, and dog and guard were ushered out the front door. He was just starting to congratulate himself on a successful end to the episode, when Hawke burst into noisy tears and ran to her bedroom.

He could still hear her crying, if he listened for it. Fenris was drinking in the great room, and Sebastian was fluttering around in the hallway, wringing his hands like an old lady. Varric snapped his ledger shut and packed it away. It might be cowardly, but he was getting out of here. Maybe he could get some work done at the Hanged Man.

#

Violet was walking. Floors of mottled stone and smooth grey featureless walls dripping with moisture stretched out ahead of her, as far as she could see. She walked. The air was damp and smelled of the sea. Whispers at the edge of hearing hissed and echoed, but she couldn't make out the words. She was being pulled towards something, but what? Suddenly she came to a turning; a tunnel cut through the rock. She followed it down until the light faded behind her. She reached her hands forward in the gloom, until her fingers brushed against something made of wood. She scrabbled at the surface until she found a doorknob. She tried to turn it, but the handle wouldn't budge. Beyond, she thought she heard a voice calling her name.

"Carver?" she called back. There was no answer. She rattled the handle, but no one came. She turned back the way she had come, trailing her fingers along the cold wet walls.

Her footsteps slowed as the pathway ended in a small round room. How had she gotten here? She couldn't quite remember. The whispers were louder now. There were no lights, but in the center a strange object pulsed with its own sickly green glow. It drew her closer. The frame was twisted, and the center surface was cloudy, cracks marring the finish. It reminded her of something. She reached out, knowing she should not touch. Knowing she had to. This was the bargain she had made, though now she couldn't remember with whom, or why.

It seemed to take for ever, the length of her arm, her fingers reaching, before she brushed the smooth surface, which seemed to change under her fingers, flickering and rippling with silver light. She stroked it again. It was cool, not cold, like water in the bottom of a forgotten glass. It splashed against her palms as her fingers slid down, down past the surface of the mirror. She stepped forward, reaching, allowing her arm to sink in further. The sensation was odd; her fingers prickled. But she'd promised Merrill. She had to.

"Sister."

His voice came from behind her. She pulled back, and the mirror released her fingers slowly, reluctantly, a deep suction tugging at her hands as she tried to free herself. But if Carver needed her…

Her fingers came free just as he stepped into the dim light of the room, but there was no light that would have made the sight welcome. His face was bruised, mottled with the darkspawn taint. His eyes were faintly overlaid with a reflective sheen. He looked the way Wesley had looked, before the end.

"Sister. It's important."

The room had been cool, but now it was icy cold. Her lungs were full of sea water; it was impossible to breathe.

"We're all coming back for you."

#

Violet gasped for air. She was lying face down on a bed in a room blessedly full of light. Safe. Air was air again. Carver was… wherever the Wardens might have taken him, surely Carver didn't really look like that. She sat up and tried to re-orient herself to the solid world. She was in Varric's — Bartrand's — house. She rubbed her eyes, which felt raw and gritty. She should have said no when Aveline offered to send Penny for a visit; it had been too hard to say goodbye again.

She ignored the knock on her bedroom door. She didn't want to talk. She didn't want to be seen. She didn't even want to be awake… but she didn't want to dream again, either. She wasn't sure what that left that she would like to do, but she didn't see how company could help.

There was another knock, louder. She continued to ignore it, and after a minute had passed, the door creaked and swung open uninvited. Sebastian and Fenris stood together in the doorway. It was unexpected enough that she only blinked. She'd expected Varric, or maybe Sebastian. But Sebastian and Fenris together?

"Has something happened?" Her voice sounded rough.

"Sebastian and I have been talking," said Fenris. "We decided it's time to get you out of the house."

They chivvied her into her robes, handed over her staff, and had her down the cellar stairs before she really knew what was happening.

"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to make this make sense," she said as Fenris opened the trap door that led to Darktown below. She turned to Sebastian. "Yesterday, you called me names for even thinking of going out. But now it's fine?"

"Things have changed." Sebastian had the nerve to grin at her. "Fenris had a look around this morning, and he says there's no guard on the Darktown entrance to the Amell estate. We thought you might like to see it."

He had a quiver on his back and carried his bow. Fenris stood over the trap door at the back of the cellar, sword already drawn.

"Shall we?" Fenris asked. He smelled faintly of wine.

Violet shrugged. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"