On Loose Sand
Varric watches Lani race out of the Hall, a burgeoning protest dying on his lips. Muttering under his breath, he turns his attention back to matters of the Merchant's Guild. There has been push-back from the Guild, despite Varric's assurances that investing in the restoration of Kirkwall would lead to immense profits.
"Short-sighted, self-important fools," he grumbles. It would be easier if he were there; if he could persuade them in person. The main sticking point of course, was that Varric wanted to rebuild the slums and poor quarters, not just High Town. The perfect opportunity was before them, to build something greater from the ashes of Kirkwall.
If the Merchant's Guild stepped up, Kirkwall would, with little political conflict, become a Dwarven owned City State. Kirkwall could become a hub of Dwarven trade, providing lyrium and dwarven crafts to Southern Thedas from one central stronghold. More-over, they could - as a people - finally have an actual place to call home on the surface. The Guild however, too many of them were stuck in the past. Looking back, looking down, always to Orzammar. Nothing on the surface mattered, they were still desperately clinging to a legacy that had long since faded.
"I need to be in Kirkwall." Frustrated, he scours his hand over his mouth, scratching at his stubbled jaw. His initial plan was to leave before the month was out, but now… he looks back to the vaulted doors through which Lani had disappeared.
"I have a mountain of laundry to do." A gaggle of servants approach the entrance, their voices ringing clear over the constant low murmur in the Hall. This is why Varric loves this spot. He's lost count of the number of juicy conversations he has over-heard from visiting courtiers, either unaware of his presence, or too arrogant to even care.
"You need to see this with your own eyes, trust me." The lead servant tugs them along and they all swiftly disappear down the stairs to the training grounds. Varric wonders what has caught their attention.
"The small folk know what's what." Sera was fond of saying and Varric is inclined to agree. What happens when one of the small folk gets raised up, chewed up and spit out by the big folk? Varric muses, his eyes drawn to the pile of pages that Lani had dropped on his desk. He leans forward, snatching them up and settling back in his chair to comb through them.
He is always deeply flattered that Lani chooses to share them with him alone. Not even Solas was ever permitted a treasured glimpse of them. Varric's mouth twists sourly when the apostate comes to mind. He will never understand what madness drove Solas to behave as he had.
Varric had not been remotely discouraged, when Solas' rebuffed his initial friendly overtures - he had befriended far more taciturn elves than Solas. So he had allowed himself a small smile of victory, the first time he heard the polite cough behind him, soon after they settled at Skyhold. Solas had emerged from his cave, standing stiffly in the doorway behind Varric's chair.
"You've had experience with red lyrium, I understand?" Solas had asked and that was how their early conversations began. All business and irrelevant pleasantries - remarking on the renovations to the fortress, or asking Varric for his perspective on the spark that fuelled the mage rebellion - the razing of Kirkwall.
That was how they carried on, never knowing when Solas might quietly approach him, but certainly relieved that he was opening up to someone. Though Solas took great pains to keep them all at arms length, Varric could sense the terrible loneliness within him. They had bonded even further, over their mutual concern for the Kid.
Cole. Whatever had gone wrong there? Varric still didn't entirely understand Tranquility. He knew it was perverse. He'd witnessed the abuses perpetrated in the Kirkwall Circle himself and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. He understood though, that his feelings paled compared to the visceral terror and rage his mage friends felt, when confronted by someone made Tranquil. He tried to imagine what it would be like, having some essential part of himself stripped away. The very idea was upsetting, yet Tranquil mages could no longer even feel such distress. As much as magic seemed frightening and unnatural to Varric, that was even more so.
So whatever happened to Lani, he didn't really comprehend it. It seemed to him, that she continued to think and feel as she always had. She certainly didn't lack for moments of distress and Varric scowls, sour thoughts turning once again to Solas.
"The Inquisitor seems to enjoy writing too," Solas had remarked offhandedly one day, as he watched Varric scribbling furious. He'd looked up from the latest chapter he was drafting, to note the very controlled look on Solas' face. The determinedly neutral expression. Varric stifled a wry chortle, as everything clicked into place.
He was not offended to learn that Solas had approached him - had struck up a slow friendship - with the intent to feel him out about Lani. Varric rather pitied him in that moment.
Pity! Varric scoffs at the memory. Hard to imagine now, that he'd ever felt sorrow on behalf of Solas. He didn't deserve it. His anger at the elf is dwarfed only by his anger at himself. Varric can't believe he fell for Solas' humble, polite and harmless routine. To think he eagerly encouraged Solas to pursue the Inquisitor - mindful all the time, of the tragedy that seems to follow agents of destiny. He thought of Hawke and how she'd slowly lost her entire family - only to then witness Anders descend ever deeper into madness. His passion for mage freedom turning into a dangerous, violent obsession.
Varric had cheered Solas on, willing him to dive-in headfirst, because who knew how much time one had where heroes are concerned. Even though a part of him worried -
Worried that Solas would suffer a broken heart! Guilt and rage churn inside Varric.
He can still recall how shocked he was, the first time he heard Lani's girlish giggle echoing out through the doorway from the Rotunda. The Inquisitor did not giggle. She laughed with wild abandon; she chuckled; she guffawed. Ofttimes, she was so overwrought she would shake, crying silent tears of mirth. She most definitely did not giggle. When she had swept past him - giddy and flush with affection - Varric had felt proud. He felt he had done something right and good - bringing light into her bleak and dangerous life.
Then came then day the elves returned together from Crestwood. Solas, stone-faced and grim. Lani, bare-faced and bewildered. Solas would not be drawn on the subject, no matter how cunning Varric was - how carefully he laid his words to try and broach the subject. Lani would not speak either and Varric could not bring himself to pick at her obvious wounds. Suddenly, he didn't feel quite so pleased with himself anymore.
Cole invariably flittered between the two, upset and agitated by their behaviour. It was clear the boy didn't know how to process the emotions he was experiencing. The anguish of Compassion - unable to provide succour to his closest friends. Rage flares deep inside Varric. All that pain and for what? Solas could give no reasonable explanation for his actions - other than to say how deeply he regretted them. He didn't just spurn Lani, he closed everyone back out. Varric, Blackwall, Bull - anyone that had managed to build some semblance of a friendship with him.
Til at last, he simply up and vanished. It was clear to Varric now, Solas was not the man he thought he was. He was a coward. A selfish, callous coward; leaving misery and confusion in his wake. He shakes his head ruefully, turning his attention back to Lani's poems.
She has improved a great deal, from the first set she had given him. He wonders how long she has been working on some of them. Surely she did not write all of this in one night, unless she had been driven by some divine inspiration. He studies her words, looking for signs of strain; the ramblings of a mad-woman. But they are lucid, tightly crafted and evocative. There is one in particular he is desperate to share with the Seeker and he will have to see if he can cajole Lani into giving him permission to share it.
If she truly were Tranquil, would it even be possible for her to write with such emotion; such raw honesty? The only one that gives him pause, is a piece he presumes to be about Solas, sitting at the very bottom of the stack. The tone of it is darker than the others and yet, it seems an ardent declaration of her affection for him. A promise that it has not, and will not ever wane.
You deserve better, Varric's guts twist with remorse. The fire crackles ominously in the hearth beside him and Varric carefully bundles up the pages, placing them securely in his satchel. He'd learnt the hard way that Lani would toss her words into the fire given the chance. He couldn't bear to see it. He doesn't know yet what he will do with them, other than keeping them safe. But it feels too important - it's not often that heroes chronicle their life and experiences in their own words.
The topic of publishing her work had arisen, after they returned from the Frostback Basin. Lani had been particularly morose after learning the fate of Inquisitor Ameridan - that the Chantry had erased his identity. However, Lani had shot down his suggestion immediately.
"You assume they even want the truth. Haven't I given enough of myself already?" Lani had remarked bitterly and so Varric had let the subject slide. Biding his time til she was perhaps more receptive to the idea. Though when that would ever be, given the endless tragedies and crises they face, he has no idea.
As though summoned by his thoughts, Lani comes striding into the Hall. She has a furtive air about her - skittish, like a horse on the verge of bolting.
"Hey Lani," he calls her over, hoping she will pause to speak with him this time. "Are you ok?" His stomach drops at the look of despair that sweeps over her face.
"There is no end to it, Varric," she bemoans. "No reprieve." Varric stews with resentment. Whoever put her into this state was going to get some choice words from him, and maybe a bolt in the ass for good measure.
"Take a seat Lani and-"
"Inquisitor!" Cullen comes rushing into the hall and Lani visibly starts at the sound of his voice. She quickly recovers, quirking her eyebrow sardonically at Varric, as if to say, 'See, told you.' Varric sighs heavily. She seemed so despairing a moment ago, but it is a good sign that she still has a sense of humour about it all.
Lani steps aside with Cullen, and Varric pretends to be reading his letters, ears fixed on their exchange. Cullen is agitated, but that seems to be his default setting, as far as Varric can tell. Much in the same way that Cassandra always appeared to be irate. He wonders sometimes if it is simply an aspect of being human. Not that he didn't know his fair share of humourless dwarves, but humans on average seemed to take themselves far too seriously.
It would appear that one of the elves from the Temple of Mythal has come to speak with Lani. A terrible sinking feeling settles into Varric's stomach; ancient elven magic and artefacts just smell like trouble to him.
Cullen disappears to retrieve the elf and Varric draws in a sharp breath, as Lani heads for the Rotunda. He can't imagine what has possessed her, to meet the elf there, when she has actively avoided the place since Solas rejected her.
He waits patiently, as Lani passes from view and then eases from his seat, quietly approaching the entrance to the Rotunda. He leans against the archway, cocking his ear toward the room, listening to the quiet pad of Lani's feet over the stone floor. Soon enough, he can make out the low, rumbling tones of her guest, though he cannot catch specific words, as they remain on the far side.
"Varric!" Cassandra's stern voice spooks him and Varric bites his tongue, clamping down on the startled cry that near escapes him. He turns, heart thumping in his chest and presses his finger to his lips, entreating the Seeker to lower her voice. "Have you seen Lani?" she asks, ignoring his request and Varric steps away from the doorway, putting his body between Cassandra and the Rotunda entrance.
"I wouldn't disturb her right now, if I were you," Varric cautions and Cassandra scowls at him. "She's meeting privately with a guest."
"A guest? Who?" Cassandra looks anxiously toward the Rotunda.
"One of those elves she met in the Arbor Wilds."
Cassandra's eyebrows rise sharply in surprise, "What are they talking about?"
"Well, I was trying to listen," Varric drawls. Cassandra tries to step around him, her jaw tight with determination. Varric grabs her wrist, "Just let them be, Seeker."
"Have either of you seen Lani?" Dorian thunders into the Hall.
"You too?" Varric exclaims, throwing up his hands.
"She's meeting with one of the elves from the Arbor Wilds, apparently."
Dorian's eyes narrow, "Not Abelas, by any chance?"
"That is the name Lani mentioned," Varric affirms and Dorian cradles his chin in his hand, falling into silent introspection.
"What is it?" Cassandra prods at length.
"Solas and Abelas seemed to… share a moment, at the Temple." Dorian shakes his head slowly, "I'm not exactly sure what they said, the elven Solas spoke was so archaic…"
"You don't actually believe what Lani was saying last night?" Cassandra scoffs.
"I don't know! Solas and Cole were always so chummy. Now they're both gone, who knows where, and Lani is rambling and frightened and broken. The day after she returns, an ancient elf turns up and you don't think the timing is a little too coincidental?"
"I think you give that callous ass far too much credit. And Cole was misguided, but he wasn't sinister," Varric interjects before Cassandra can respond, feeling like he is being pushed out of this conversation.
He can't help the resentment that bubbles up inside at the thought. These are the very same people that took it upon themselves to keep Lani's disappearance from him. Not once did it seem to occur to them, to consult with him or Blackwall - or even Sera - about why the Inquisitor might have left or where she would have gone.
Not that he would have given up such information and Cassandra knows that. She'd learned, despite her greatest and most violent efforts, that Varric would never betray his friends.
And I was right about that! There was no doubt, Hawke would have died in the explosion at the Conclave. Indeed, if Varric had known that Lani was safely gone, he would have cheered her on and hoped she might never return.
He can't help but wish though - as much as he wants his friends to stay clear of trouble - that Hawke were here now. The mad Champion, who went rushing into danger with no plan in mind; just a big, big heart. She'd know the right thing to do. Hawke would make them listen.
Dorian turns from Cassandra, blinking at Varric, as though he had in fact forgotten the dwarf was even there. "Cole himself confessed, that he feared a mage could at any moment compel him. Could take control of him because of his nature."
Varric pulls up short, "Well yeah, but…"
"What if someone already had?" Dorian asserts.
"Aren't you being a tiny bit paranoid?" Varric accuses and Dorian rolls his eyes in exasperation. "I'm angry at Solas, same as anyone. But you think he's some dangerous mastermind, manipulating Cole and these supposed ancient elves from some forgotten temple?"
Dorian and Cassandra exchange a panicked look and a sense of dread unfurls its tendrils in Varric's chest.
"Alright, let's hear it. What is going on?"
Dorian shrugs resignedly, "Lani thinks-"
"Lani is confused and vulnerable," Cassandra interrupts, glaring at Dorian. "She woke screaming last night and then never went back to bed. It is irresponsible and dangerous to let the Inquisitor wander around alone when we don't know the true state of her mind."
"You can't be certain of anyone's true state of mind Seeker, but she seems pretty lucid to me. She seems like herself," Varric can see that Cassandra is not moved by his words.
"Like herself?" Dorian exclaims. "You didn't hear what she said to Bull. She threatened to ship him back to Par Vollen. To get re-educated, or worse!" Dorian is clearly aggrieved by the notion. Varric might have assumed it related to Tranquility, a topic currently foremost in everyone's minds. But it seems to cut deeper than that for Dorian - hitting a far more personal nerve. "That's not the Inquisitor I know," the Tevene's handsome features twist with unbearable grief and he turns his back to them.
Varric frowns, silently admitting that Dorian is right. That doesn't sound like something Lani would say. Not even to a hated enemy.
"It would be foolish to assume she is fine, after what she has been through, after what Cole did. There could be any number of untold side-effects, no-one has ever successfully reversed Tranquility in a mage. The only attempted case I know of, the mage went insane and the Seekers were forced to kill him."
"That is not going to happen!" Varric has tried to remain calm in the face of Dorian and Cassandra's determined infantilising of Lani, but Cassandra has gone too far now. How could she even consider violence - murder - as a possible solution? It seems to Varric that the only ones that have lost their grip on sanity was the pair of humans. "Was she even fully Tranquil in the first place? None of us even noticed any difference!" Varric continues. "Whatever the case, the Tranquility seems reversed, she's no threat to anyone. This is Lani we're talking about here!" he pleads with them, desperate for them to see reason.
Silence falls in the Hall and as Varric takes a glance around, he realises that a number of people have gathered at a distance, watching their heated exchange with great interest. He buries his head in his hands, releasing an exasperated groan.
"What was her nightmare about?" Dorian asks quietly, having composed himself enough to turn back to them.
"She would not tell me," Cassandra Necromancer and the Seeker exchange another hapless look.
"Enough of that already!" Varric hisses, trying to keep his voice low. "If you two know something pertinent, perhaps you ought to share it, instead of making unilateral decisions about what you think is best for the Inquisitor."
"I couldn't agree more," Lani announces tightly. The three of them start at the sound of her voice, turning their gaze to where she stands, beneath the Rotunda archway.
Dorian winces apologetically, "Birdie-"
"Don't. Even. Start." she cuts him off, each word grinding out from between clenched teeth. She strides slowly toward them, with such a tense aura of menace that even Varric flinches and withers under her piercing gaze. "I had a potential ally in there, or at the very least, an opportunity to track down Solas. Until he overheard all of you, shouting about how dangerous and unstable I am."
Lani does not shout - her voice is flat, tightly modulated and still the hairs on the back of Varric's neck prickle with alarm. There is something in her voice - he does not hear it, he feels it.
Suddenly he is a young boy, sitting at his father's feet, as Andvar attempts to explain to Bartrand and Varric what it means to have stone sense. How it feels when the stone sings to you - a voice in your body and heart - guiding you, protecting you. Lamenting the fact that every day on the surface, he slowly feels it feeling slipping away, leaving him empty inside.
Varric senses something akin to that right now. It is screaming in the primal core of him - Run!
Run as far and as fast as his short legs can carry him. The fact he feels this way however, convinces him he needs to stay. If something terrible is about to happen, more than ever, he needs to stay to keep Lani safe.
"Forget about Solas, Lani," Dorian entreats. "You agreed that it was wise to take some time, to not jump to conclusions."
"We need to find Solas," she insists and finally frees them from her fierce stare. She casts about herself, as though looking for answers. "Something terrible is coming, I can feel it." She digs her fists into her abdomen and Varric's eyes go wide.
Is it Lani's fear I'm feeling? That would be a great relief, even though he doesn't understand how it could be possible.
"Lani, you've been having nightmares, you haven't slept," Cassandra steps forward, trying to reason with her. She reaches out, as though to touch Lani, but thinks better of it, her hand falling to her side. "You must be exhausted. You've been through a trauma and you're not thinking clearly."
"And you're not listening to me," Lani hisses in frustration. "If you won't hear me then you should just go. Go back to Tevinter, go back to Kirkwall," she fixes each of them in turn with an anguished grimace. Her teary-eyed dismissal twists in Varric's heart like a dagger. "Go and claim your sunburst throne. I don't need people that won't listen to me."
"Listen to you? Listen to yourself! This isn't like you," Dorian fires back.
"Like me?" Lani laughs - a mirthless, pitching rattle. "How would any of you know what is 'like me'? Cole carved out entire pieces of me and none of you even noticed. Or perhaps you didn't care to, so long as I did what you wanted. Such a good, compliant Inquisitor." All three of them shrink under the truth of her words. "Now I have my mind back and that doesn't suit you at all. Out here conspiring against me."
"Conspiring?" Cassandra is aghast at the accusation. "That is not true Lani, we are only worried for you. We just want to help."
"No!" Lani shouts, raising her voice for the first time. Immediately, Varric's heart begins to beat a rapid staccato and he wills himself to hold his ground, his feet trying to move of their own accord. "You all think you know what I need, better than I do. You have no right to force your choices on me!"
Varric breathes in sharply, the true source of her anger becoming clear. He mentally kicks himself for not realising sooner. This argument is more about Cole and Solas than anything else. Such an immense betrayal has shaken her faith in all of them. Pushing them all away - out of misplaced fear and pain - when what she needs more than ever is their support. He can see now why Cassandra and Dorian are worried. As misguided as they can be, they are right in this respect - Lani is not thinking rationally.
"Ok Lani, you're right," Varric raises his palms toward her in entreaty, "Tell me, what can we do? I'm listening, I'm here for you." Lani studies him, lines of tension slowly easing from her features.
This is good, he thinks. This is clear evidence to him, that she can recognise he is in earnest; that she hasn't lost all reason and can still see who her friends are. At last, her anger seems to crumble away entirely, leaving her so exposed and vulnerable, Varric's heart breaks at the sight of it. It's not right, he wants to shout, it's not fair!
"So you are here, Inquisitor," Vivienne's supercilious drawl cuts through the precious moment.
Shit!
Lani's eyebrows knit and Varric fixes Vivienne with a murderous glare. He'd be hard pressed to imagine a worse person to throw onto this powder keg.
Solas himself would have to saunter through the door.