Varric returned home in time for dinner with his guests, his temper soothed by a few uninterrupted hours alone with paper and pen. It hadn't been quiet — the Hanged Man never was, and he liked it that way — but no one had bothered him. He'd caught up on some story notes and wrote several nasty letters to members of the Merchant's Guild, which went a long way toward improving his mood.

His friends were in the great room when he arrived, and right away he could tell something was different. Violet had been restless since they'd arrived, pacing from one side of the room to the other with an anxious expression that had saddened but not surprised him. Now she sat on a sofa across the room from the fireplace instead of hovering practically inside it. Her gaze was inward and thoughtful, but not unhappy.

He watched as Fenris poured a glass of wine for Sebastian, then leaned conspiratorially over the back of his chair and suggested he "not drink it all at once." Instead of shrugging it off or looking ashamed, Sebastian had looked up at the elf with an expression Varric had never seen before — a smile completely genuine and more than a little cheeky — and replied that he made no promises.

They'd been grouchy and miserable when he left. What had he missed?

Varric waited until they sat down to dinner. He wasn't going to let Hawke squirm away with a made up excuse before telling him what was up. Not this time.

"So, what did you three get up to this afternoon?" he asked casually, pretending to be interested in his plate more than their faces.

Fenris and Sebastian both looked at Hawke. Typical, he thought.

Hawke flashed her best 'braving it out' smile and said, "Actually, we've got a bit of a confession to make."

He let the words hang there for a moment. Fenris studied his fork like he'd never seen one before. Sebastian looked at the ceiling — what was he doing, searching for cobwebs?

"Well I'm not getting any younger. Spit it out," Varric said finally.

"We went by the Amell estate today." At his frown, she continued quickly, "I know you asked us to stay here. But honestly, Varric, you didn't really think I could do that, did you? Confinement isn't my thing. What was I supposed to do, admire the furniture for days on end?"

Varric rubbed his forehead. She was right; he probably should have expected it. But he'd hoped the past year had taught her a little more caution.

"It's not like we marched right up to the front door," Hawke continued, warming to her argument. "Fenris scouted things out — there was no one watching the cellar. You know the guards and templars never patrol Darktown. You were treating the whole thing like a big scary mystery. I had to see it for myself."

Varric shook his head. He might claim he wanted Hawke to grow up a bit, but she wouldn't be the friend he loved if she stopped rushing headlong into everyone's problems. Even her own.

"Anyway, we didn't get caught. And yes, it was a little… painful. But in the end, it was just another empty house. I've left behind a lot of those." She shrugged. "Even if this one was more expensive than most."

He glared at her, but she only shrugged and popped a forkful of potatoes into her mouth. He turned to Fenris and Sebastian.

"I knew you were up to something, Elf. You may not care about your safety, but what about hers? And Choir Boy, I thought you at least would be more cautious. She could have been killed, or worse. Someone has got to use their brain, and it can't be me all the time."

"Varric." Violet's voice was stern. "I am a grown up who can make her own decisions."

"Could have fooled me," he shot back.

Fenris cleared his throat. "You are not entirely wrong about the danger. We did find something disturbing, that should not have been there." With Hawke's help, he described the wisp they had seen.

"It is just possible," said Hawke reluctantly, "that it was set to wait for me specifically. But that would mean a mage was involved, and not just any mage, either. I certainly can't conjure a wisp and set it a specific task. Whoever left it has considerable knowledge of the Fade."

"And there's no one who springs to your mind who might be able to do that?" Varric asked pointedly.

"Yes, okay, you're right. It does seem like the sort of thing Justice might know. I've never seen him do it, but we have to assume a Fade spirit would know how to summon a wisp."

"All the more reason we need to go check out this Messenger's camp." Varric concluded. When Violet reluctantly nodded, he said, "Why don't we leave tomorrow, since you're so anxious to stretch your legs? Maybe a hike up the Wounded Coast will do you good."

Violet wandered the house, looking for Sebastian. After dinner, Varric had begrudgingly delivered the new bow she'd asked him to purchase, and Sebastian had vanished with it. Varric and Sebastian had never been on the best of terms; she was trying to avoid thinking about what Varric would say when he found out about… recent developments. Keeping it a secret was tempting but likely to be difficult. Varric was far too observant not to notice that something was up. But she guessed there'd be time enough to figure it out after they were out of Kirkwall.

She peeked into door after door. Varric's restoration work hadn't extended to the entire house, and here in the unused southern wing, rooms were stacked with debris that had been cleared from other parts of the house. The very last room at the back was a long gallery dimly lit by a row of grimy windows set high up along one wall. It was full of gaudy statuary, dusty trunks, and broken-down furniture. A three-legged chair leaned drunkenly against the wall, stuck full of arrows like a pincushion. Squinting, she realized each arrow was buried in the center of a floral motif on the chair's ragged upholstery.

Sebastian had been here, clearly, but where was he now? He wasn't on the floor or the gaudy, pillow-covered divan in the far corner, or even behind the pile of crates beside the door. It wasn't until she thought to look up that she found him, sat atop a tall bookshelf in the corner with his forehead pressed against the window and his arms loosely clasped around his knees. Violet realized uneasily that it was the only room in the house in the right location to have a view over what used to be the Chantry courtyard. He must have gone looking for it on purpose.

"Hello," she said.

He lifted his head and gave her a sad little smile. "Hello."

Violet dragged a chair over and climbed up so she could just see out. There it was; above a few small figures scurrying on the street below, the ruined Chanrty loomed, almost unrecognizable in the dark. Where the stairs had been was a jumble of broken stonework, and only one of the walls still stood at its original height.

Violet had been glad to avoid the site of the explosion so far. She had hoped Sebastian wouldn't have to see it at all.

She lightly touched his ankle. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "Just thinking."

"What might have been?" she asked softly.

"Something like that."

"I hope it's not us," she said tentatively.

Sebastian shook his head.

"What we did today doesn't make it worse, does it?" When he only gave her a half smile in reply, she poked him lightly. "When I said 'don't leave Fenris out' I didn't think you would take me so literally! You don't regret it, do you?"

He moved then, swinging his legs over and jumping off the bookcase. He offered her a hand to step down from the chair, which she accepted. He still hadn't answered, and anxiety made her fingertips prickle and a chill creep up her spine.

"If it makes you uncomfortable, if it's too close to your past —"

"No," he said at last. "Today was rooted in genuine feeling, not just… pleasure for its own sake. I'm sorry it didn't work out better, but…" His eyes flicked back up toward the window. "That's not what I was thinking about. I'm just wrestling with the fact that it's all gone, really entirely gone."

Violet pulled him in for a hug. "It's selfish, but I wouldn't wish it back. I'm glad you're here with me."

His arms tightened around her, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Fenris coughed from the open doorway. "I apologize for interrupting. But it is important." He held a crumpled piece of paper out towards Violet. "This was delivered to the front door. Orana could tell me little of who brought it."

She went to him and took the paper, which was torn along one edge, as though it had been stripped off the bottom of something else. Smoothing it out against the wall, she recognized Anders' rounded script, even in the faint light. She read aloud.

Hawke,

I have been hoping to meet with you. I had to leave the Wounded Coast, but you can find me on S— in the place where Marathari lost her pride. We need to speak. Alone, please.

Violet went cold all over. "Well that's morbid," she said in a shaky voice. "I understand the need for secrecy, but of all the places…"

Sebastian put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "At least we know where he is, and there's no need to waste time in searching," he said.

"That's true. I suppose… there's not much point now in visiting the coast camp. Not if we're right about his identity." No one said it, but she knew there would be no chance any of her companions would agree to let her meet Anders alone. Maybe she would think of a way to lose them on the mountain. Maybe she wouldn't.

"We could simply go to Sundermount first; we can decide after this meeting whether it's necessary to do both," said Sebastian.

"Yes, this must come first. It is time to put an end to things," Fenris agreed.