A/N: Thank you to 0wallie0 and creepypasta-queen- for beta reading, and to everyone who reads!

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If Varric had been forced to choose a word to describe Curly or Stardust before this afternoon, he would have just fallen back on his nicknames for them, spouting some bullshit about hidden meanings or representation.

People would be too busy laughing off the way he'd say it to realize it was the truth.

Curly suited the commander not just because it was a call back and reminder of those wild, unruly curls that he'd finally managed to tame, but because it was a parallel to his past and quite possibly his very nature: something he tried desperately to hide from people and to forget about himself.

Stardust fit the Herald not just because of the eeriness of her eyes, but because such a thing was otherworldly, never quite belonging, regardless of where it fell.

The names suited both commander and Herald while being light enough that one might overlook any hidden meaning.

Or they had.

Of late, however, Stardust seemed to be settling in quite nicely. Maybe he was just growing fond of her—she was hardly the most dislikeable mage he'd ever met—but she was definitely starting to feel like she belonged there amidst the rest of them.

Namely it was the way that she didn't belong that made her fit in.

None of them really meshed, in Varric's mind. While it was hell for coming to agreements, it certainly made the story interesting. The characters were so diverse, too. The kidnapped writer, the single-minded seeker, the Tevinter pariah, the qunari spy, the list went on. No one, single person seemed a good fit for the Inquisition, when examined on their own, and so Stardust seemed more and more to be one of the guys, so to speak.

She would have fit in perfectly with the Kirkwall crew.

However, she was about as paranoid as Blondie had been near the end—albeit neither mage's fears were without cause. Regardless, what would have normally been a fully welcomed friendship left him a bit uneasy when she got too nervous.

Like something might explode.

After all, Blondie had been a healer, too—likely still was, assuming Justice or Vengeance or whatever that thing was hadn't completely taken over whatever had made Blondie him.

At least Stardust didn't seem to be possessed.

That had seemed to be the one real hiccup with Blondie. If he'd never been possessed, he wouldn't have gone mad. Daisy may have practiced blood magic, but she had never…

And Daisy was still off helping mages, too. For all the blood she dabbled in, she still helped, debatably far more than Blondie ever had.

Or perhaps Varric was just bitter about how things had ended in Kirkwall. He tried to remember Blondie as he had been, before everything had gone so wrong. He tried to remember him as the healer of Darktown instead of the one who had rained destruction over the entire city.

Varric's city. His home.

Varric was all for mage rights—Hawke was a staunch supporter, wanting his beloved little sister to have the same opportunities in life that everyone else was given—but Blondie had sentenced an entire Circle to death, along with hundreds of innocent lives throughout the city, just to get things out of that miserable stalemate between the templars and mages in Kirkwall.

Couldn't Blondie have found a way to blow up the templars instead? Or done something that wouldn't have gotten Thedas' largest Circle unjustly annulled and half the city razed? Maker, if Sunshine had been caught by the templars instead of struck with the Blight and sent off to be a warden, she could have been one of the many mages who fell.

If it had just been the templars or even just the grand cleric that he'd gone after…

Had Blondie had his options slowly whittled away by an uncaring, psychopathic, already-borderline-sociopathic-bitch-before-she'd-gotten-a-contact-high-from-red-lyrium knight-commander who wanted even more power than she already possessed?

Yes.

But still…there had to have been another way.

It kept Varric up sometimes, trying to figure out that secret, other way that things could have gone. That way that wouldn't have ended with Blondie being the most hunted mage in all of southern Thedas.

Varric was a fucking writer, wasn't he? How hard was it to think of a plot twist?

Why was it that when he tried to think of any way that things could have turned out well, his mind just drew a huge blank?

It's no wonder that Blondie fell to what he had, especially with that thing whispering in his head that there could be no compromise. Maybe it was right, but…there had to have been something he could have done that wouldn't have destroyed so much of Kirkwall in the process.

Something that wouldn't have reminded people why their ancestors had begun locking away mages to begin with.

That thing in Blondie's head had fueled his self-righteous anger into something inhuman.

Into Vengeance.

Really, it came down to too many voices in one head.

With all the characters that bounced around in Varric's, he sometimes wondered how different a mage's mind really was. It was horrible to even consider a villain from a novel to be on par with a demon whispering hideous promises in someone's head, and so Varric kept most of his musings to himself.

Though, keeping such thoughts in his head did make it harder to get answers.

A true conundrum. Perhaps he could ask Chuckles or Stardust about it sometime. Maybe they could give him some insight that could help him understand. He could claim it was for a book rather than his own desperate need to understand what had pushed Blondie to the edge.

He'd have to be careful how he approached Stardust, though. With the way she jumped at the mention of demons or blood magic, she'd probably think he was accusing her of something.

What could have actually happened in her history to make her think that everyone wanted to bring her to a blade?

That was another story that drew too many blanks.

For all his skill as a published novelist, he couldn't imagine the torments that went on in the lives of the people he knew now. He didn't want to imagine them hurting, being betrayed…

Maybe he couldn't find the answers he wanted for the same reason he would never be a competent spymaster. At the end of the day, he cared too much for these people to stand to see them suffer.

And maybe that was why he didn't want to get too close to Stardust. Maybe it wasn't the parallel between her and Blondie at all. Maybe it was just the fact that heroes never had happy stories, and she already seemed to have been through too much.

She was so paranoid.

He'd warned Nightingale and Curly, tried to anyway. Told them she was going to be hard to get through to. That they'd need to be gentle and even then…

And what had they done?

Not much.

Honestly, he'd expected that from the commander. After all, in Kirkwall, Curly had been mostly active in hunting mages, rather than dealing with any problems there might be in the Gallows. As it had stood, Meredith was the one to fear inside the Circle, and Curly was the one to fear outside of it.

Varric found it hard to believe that anyone could simply walk away from a life like that, even if Curly did claim to be a different man now.

And when he'd first seen him with Stardust, Varric had assumed that he was right.

He'd seen her shying away from Curly almost every time he was a stone's throw away. He'd seen Curly get frustrated, no doubt drawing his own parallels to pasts that he didn't want shadowing him here. Nightingale had stood back and watched, rarely interacting with the precious Herald of Andraste, instead choosing to let Curly flounder his way through conversations and arguments.

That they'd been able to form whatever it was they had now was just…

Varric wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

Perhaps he'd misjudged Curly.

After all, if holes could open in the sky and darkspawn magisters could conjure archdemons, it seemed like almost anything was possible.

Every time the stoic commander was around Stardust, it was a little harder to see the knight-captain from Kirkwall. Every time she darted near him, keeping just a little less space between them than the day before, it almost looked like…

Varric wasn't a fan of sappy romances, perhaps that's why he grimaced at the thought. Those two were certainly from different, well, everything. Backgrounds, opinions, minds, worlds.

They didn't have anything in common. At all.

And he'd always hated that opposites attract bullshit.

Even so…

Curly did have a tendency to watch her with an odd and slowly growing tenderness, especially since finding her after the avalanche. He almost hovered, though it was never enough that he could be accused of forgetting his duties. Maker forbid that man take a break. He was still ever the dutiful commander, but when it came to Stardust…

It was almost like he had a heart.

That Varric could even consider that of the knight-captain—and then knight-commander—of Kirkwall was anything less than a callous prick was…

Yes, people had layers, but Curly's had all been fear and hatred born of that fear. Mages weren't people. That sort of nonsense. There had been some sort of shift during their time in Kirkwall, not that Varric could really pinpoint it. He hadn't really paid attention to Curly more than to make sure his mage friends would be safe.

The knight-captain had stood against the knight-commander, though, so there was that.

And he certainly didn't look at Stardust like he thought she wasn't a person.

When had that even started? Buttercup claimed it had been before the avalanche, around the time that the first red templar had nearly killed their beloved Herald.

Whenever it had started, it hadn't really hit Varric until this afternoon.

He was traveling with Stardust, Buttercup, and Sparkler at the head of their miserable procession through the mountains, trying—and failing—to explain that snowball fights did not need to become a morning ritual to Buttercup and Stardust when Chuckles joined them for the first time ever. That was the first hint that something was going to be different about today.

Chuckles and Stardust took the lead, with Buttercup falling back to sulk with Varric, angry that the 'elfie elf' was there to bother them all—the tale behind that was another story with too many blanks. Sparkler was amused by Buttercup's anger—the two didn't exactly get along, though Sparkler didn't seem too keen on making friends with anyone in particular—but Varric was hopeful.

If Chuckles was willing to take lead, either they were so far off track that they were never going to find that Maker-forsaken fortress, or…

Or it was visible over the next ridge they came to.

He knew the second Stardust froze on that ledge, her breath catching in her throat.

Then, quite literally out of nowhere, she whirled around and hugged Chuckles.

No one had seen that coming.

Not even Chuckles.

After all, Stardust didn't seem to be much of a fan of physical contact herself.

And yet…

Chuckles stood there, eyes wide, easily in the most awkward situation he'd been in in a long time. Even as he lifted a hand to try to pat her back, she let him go, whirling around to motion the rest of them up. Her eyes shone with that eerie, ethereal flicker like she was casting some sort of spell right there to make them move faster.

The three of them picked up their paces, with Varric cursing his shorter legs as Sera trotted over the damned snow, and Dorian shuffled forward. The view was worth it, though.

The valley below was huge, a vast swatch of white spreading out in every direction to meet sheer mountains, their dark cliff faces forming a huge, outer wall, allowing only two or three narrow entry points into the valley itself, aside from one long, winding river.

At the center, though. There was the gem.

Skyhold.

It was a keep to be envied. Even from where they stood, they could make out the towers that speared up into the air, almost as though trying to puncture the clouds overhead. The walls were massive, and the hold sat on a smaller mountain in the center of the valley—it was as though the earth itself had been shaped to fit Skyhold where it was.

There was one long bridge leading to the castle. It was probably another day or two away, depending on how hard of a climb down it was going to be.

Though…

They could direct the majority of their group toward one of the access points, now that they could see them and tell them apart from just another ravine.

Even as they took it in, Stardust whirled away from them, her braid swinging about with all its wild tangles and loose strands flying freely like little banners behind her.

She was a few yards back down the side of the ridge they'd come up before Varric called out to her. "Where are you going?"

"To let the others know we're almost there!"

She called it over her shoulder, her pace surprisingly fast on the trek back down.

Varric could swear he could see magic glimmering under her footfalls, keeping her from falling through the snow or leaving footprints. She seemed oblivious that she was casting.

He frowned as he considered that she was heading back to templars.

"How about I go with you?" Varric called after her, grinning when she turned to give him a questioning look. "They can't think we're bullshitting them if we all say we've seen it, right?"

"You think they'd think we're making it up?" Finley's enthusiasm wavered a little. The magic underfoot was gone.

Good.

If a bit of disappointment meant she wouldn't be making templars bristle, Varric could live with that. After all, it might be good to keep at least a little of that paranoia. He'd heard one or two of the templars say less than flattering things—dangerous things, honestly—in regards to their dear apostate Herald and her interest in the rebel mages, as well as her quick decision to disband the Order.

Varric doubted it was a quick decision, but rather something every mage pretty much dreamed about from the time they were first ripped away from their families. He'd tried to ask Stardust about her choice once, but she'd sidestepped all his questions, leaving him in the dark.

It wasn't a fun place to be.

"Well, you two have fun. I'm not walking all the way back just to come this way again," Dorian offered, shuffling over to a large rock sticking up from the snow and making himself comfortable.

Varric had just caught up to Finley as Sera darted back down with them. "Watcha wanna bet a bunch of these blokes shite themselves when they see the keep's real?"

Even as Finley rolled her eyes and responded, Varric glanced back to check to see if Chuckles was going or staying.

He remained where he'd been when he first showed Stardust the keep, eyes still wide, though he'd turned his gaze to Skyhold. There was something there in the way he was looking over those towering walls, as though he weren't sure he'd done the right thing.

How could saving the lot of them from frostbite be anything but?

Without wanting to, Varric thought of Blondie.

Was he really going to think of him every time a mage didn't have a smile plastered to their face? It wasn't like they were all scheming against the rest of the world.

Blondie really had hurt mages' reputations.

He'd reminded people why mages were feared to begin with. Even if the concoction he'd made had been alchemical rather than magical.

And there were plenty of good mages. Like Sunshine and Daisy…and Stardust.

Sparkler and Chuckles and the Iron Lady, too, perhaps.

It was still a little too soon to make that call, at least in Varric's mind.

The walk back, despite there being the same amount of that miserable snow, seemed to take half the time. Maybe it was because they were going downhill.

Maybe it was because they knew they were almost there.

Whatever the reason, it wasn't long before they were weaving their way back through other travelers. Finley stopped the first few and directed them toward the nearest easier access point. Varric had to say he was surprised she could remember the layout of the area so well. He'd never really seen her lead per se, and he suddenly wondered just how good her sense of direction was.

It would make sense for her to be very keen in that regards. She had evaded templars for decades.

Once the others were set on the right track, they were moving through the group, spreading the word. More than that, he could see Finley's head turning this way and that, inspecting each person they passed, looking for something. Or rather, someone.

Varric felt his heart sink as he realized who.

He'd tried to warn her, but he wasn't sure how to bring that up. 'Be careful of Curly, he may seem nice now, but ideologies like thinking mages aren't people don't just go away overnight, and I wouldn't want him to…'

To what?

So far as Varric knew, Curly's main sins were negligence and turning a blind eye. He'd done his best to be out of the Gallows more than in them, generally hunting escaped mages or the many, many, many blood mages that wandered Kirkwall's streets. Having a second in command who was barely present when it counted had probably made it easier for Meredith to run things as she pleased.

Maker, that was probably why she'd promoted him. Give him free reign to rein in the mages, and let her do as she pleased in her own private corner of the void.

Still.

Curly might not have been complicit in the atrocities committed against the mages, and the current narrative was that he was trying to make something better of himself, but…

Perhaps Varric should have a talk with Stardust after all. Better to warn her and have nothing happen than to not and wake up to find her tranquil or worse.

"If you go up that way, you can see it, but we thought it would be better to travel that way and avoid having to go down the mountain slope, so it will be a little longer before most people will get a good view…" Finley's words were tumbling over themselves as she spoke, a bit too quickly thanks to her enthusiasm bubbling up.

When Varric blinked out of his thoughts, he frowned. Stardust had found her mark and was trotting back toward them, Curly matching her pace as he listened to her, that gentle look in his eyes as he laughed when she said something Varric was too flabbergasted to catch.

Before today, if asked to describe the commander and the Herald in a word, he'd have fallen back on their nicknames.

Now, though, watching as Curly listened to Stardust describe the keep—with a bit of an audience gathering closer and Sera interjecting a few times to add her own observations—and seeing the way that her face lit up as she met his gaze and the way his smile twitched up a little higher when she looked his way... For the first time, a different word came to mind. One Varric certainly wouldn't have figured would fit into this tale.

They were cute.

And he wasn't sure what to make of that.