A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. Thank you for reading, and for putting up with my erratic update schedule.
...-...
The backwoods of Orlais were miserable, much like the rest of the country, if Varric was to be perfectly honest.
It was hard to believe the Inquisition was barred from entering Orlais, considering how easily Varric's group had gotten through…and that was with Hawke starting a small brush fire, Rivaini pilfering a manor's wine cellar, and Barkington the mabari simply existing in their party.
Varric had always assumed that the mere essence of Orlais would expel a war dog, and yet here they were, in a cold, bitter hellscape, looking for signs of red lyrium.
The first week hadn't been so bad, all things considering. It had been colder than the Ancestors' dusty balls in some long-forgotten sect of the Deep Roads, but they'd had each other and all the stories to catch up on.
Then their stocks had run low, which they hadn't really considered to be too big of a problem until they dared the nearest town to see about restocking.
That was when they hit their first hiccup.
Prices were outrageous.
Worse, from the looks of things, they hadn't been merely hiked up because of Hawke's Ferelden accent. As they'd found every inn to be priced too high in this frigid area and every vendor to practically demand a first born for a loaf of bread, they'd come across a few Orlesians begging for a place to stay as well.
"If you do not like the prices, then go somewhere else," the innkeeper had snapped.
"Where?" The oldest of the children had cried out. "Le Phrelle is ashes thanks to the grand duke's men. If we try to go back, they will drag us to dig their ditches and work us 'til we die!"
At that, the innkeeper had winced, though she'd stood firm. "You think they're doing any different to anyone else? We're lucky to get a fraction of our supplies here, and when we do, it's leftovers the soldiers didn't want to steal. Do not complain to me about prices!"
Rivaini had been the first to slip back, tugging Hawke with her. When they were further from the argument, she let out a low whistle. "I'd heard there was a civil war. Didn't think it would be quite so…"
"Lighthearted?" Varric offered sarcastically.
"Do you think we could do something?" Hawke had asked—something he would end up asking over and over during their trip.
One thing that Varric had never been able to understand was how Hawke could still want to help people after everything, after Kirkwall. Yet there he was in Orlais, trying to figure out how to get food to villages and all manner of other little tasks.
His first thought had been to hunt the surrounding areas, but game was already scarce, as the locals had obviously thought of that.
It hadn't been until they'd sent word back to the Inquisition about the condition of the villages they were coming to that Varric could get him back on track.
After all, they were there looking into reports that red lyrium was growing in Orlais, and more than that, Dagna had given them a small contraption that she thought would help keep them from being overwhelmed by the red lyrium's power.
They couldn't afford to dally helping with a civil war for a country that didn't even recognize their right to help.
In the end, they parted with more coin than they wanted to restock, already planning for lighter meals.
After two weeks of trying more and more to stretch their supplies, they were ready to head back to Skyhold and declare the report false. Stupidly, Varric was the one to declare they look around one more day before heading back.
And of course, it had been near dusk when they'd happened across the worst thing they could find.
It was an old, decrepit mine shaft that was slanted so dangerously that Rivaini had to be bribed to even consider setting foot in it, as she didn't particularly feel like getting crushed by an entire mountain. Ever an ocean's soul, she hated going underground now as much as she had in Kirkwall, though Hawke had been able to drag her along for a few adventures.
Fortunately, the bribe proved unnecessary.
Or, unfortunately, really.
The red lyrium was in the mine, no doubt. Just peering through the shadowy opening, one could see chunks of red protruding from the mine's walls, glowing with that eerie, stifling presence.
However, as they came out of the woods that marched close to the cliff the mine was built into, more of the cliff itself came into view.
Red lyrium was also growing up the side of the mountain like a wicked, twisted vine of rock, interrupted occasionally with horrifying eruptions of larger red crystals that jutted out from a single point like bastardized flowers before smaller shards continued upward.
Hawke took a few steps back as he peered up at it, shrinking away—Barkington wouldn't even come close, instead growling from a few yards back in the woods. "Do you think this could be what's making the soldiers so…awful?"
"In the entire country, sweet thing?" Rivaini murmured, reaching out and lightly gripping his sleeve. "Though… It was a little idol that drove Bartrand mad. This is…too much."
"I have a feeling the war is bad because that's what war tends to be," Varric offered, wishing he could blame people's darker sides on something like red lyrium. "At least this place doesn't seem too close to any settlements."
"But how much of it is underground?" Hawke whispered, gaze dropping toward the entrance. For one, agonizingly long moment, Varric worried Hawke might try to go in, but instead he shook his head. "How is it spreading so fast? Corypheus?"
"That's why we're here for samples." Varric felt his stomach drop as he looked up at the massive crystals. Some of them were bigger than Hawke. "There's gotta be answers somewhere, right?"
Hawke dared a step closer, though Rivaini gripped his shirt tighter to stop him from going further. "Even if we get samples, we can't leave this."
"Love, we can't exactly get rid of it," Rivaini whispered, gripping his arm more firmly as she dragged him back a few paces. "We don't even know how long we have near this before we start to go mad."
That was enough to get Hawke to back up a bit while they talked, though he stood firm as soon as Barkington felt it was safe to come over to them and sit next to her master. "We can't leave that there."
"And how do you suppose we destroy it?" Rivaini argued, crossing her arms. While she hadn't wanted to, she'd bundled up once they'd gotten into the colder reaches of the mountains, and her coat made her look almost like she was puffing up in defense. "Even if we break it, there will still be pieces. It cancels magic. And it's growing from the ground, so it's not like burying it will do anything."
"And blowing shit up just makes the pieces smaller…and more spread out." Varric sighed, stepping over to Barkington and scratching behind one of the beast's ears. She let out a pleased growl, though she quickly shook her head and leaned away, ears perked up as she listened for something.
Both Rivaini and Hawke winced at Varric's words, their minds easily going back to what had happened in Kirkwall two years ago…
Almost three now.
"We could ask Alistair, when we get back to Skyhold," Rivaini offered, reaching out to rest her hands against Hawke's breastplate. "I'm sure we can find a way, but it won't be out here, and it won't be now."
Hawke ran his hands through his hair, face twisting through a variety of expressions, all ones that Varric knew well. He was fighting internally, trying to think of solutions and then dismissing them as he found them wanting.
It had to be rough, considering that Hawke felt responsible as much as Varric did. They'd been the ones to bring up the idol. They hadn't sealed that part of the Deep Roads properly—if such a thing could truly be done.
Sure, it was possible that maybe that wasn't the only source of red lyrium, but it felt like it had to be connected. After all, none of the stuff had been present before that damned idol.
Or before Corypheus had gotten out.
Hawke had whispered once, a few nights ago, that he didn't get how Corypheus could have come back, and if the damned darkspawn had, then how could anyone expect Stardust to beat him.
Because people did. It was an unspoken part of 'fixing the world'. The Inquisition was going to restore the world and punish those responsible for causing so much damage, and that meant they were going to fight what seemed to be an immortal.
"Should we even bring any back?" Hawke finally asked. "What if what happened to Meredith happens to the people in Skyhold?"
"If we don't at least try to do something," Varric said, a curl of dread coiling inside of him, "this is going to happen all over."
"Then let's get the samples and get out of here," Rivaini snapped, shuddering.
With a short consensus, they headed back, and Varric tried not to shudder himself as he and Hawke walked right up to that bright red blemish crawling up the mountainside.
They should have known something was off when Barkington came with them, but it wasn't until the beast was snapping angrily and Rivaini was yelling for them to take cover that they realized they were no longer alone.
Foolish as it was, they'd just wanted to get the lyrium and get out of there and, considering they hadn't been gone that long, hadn't thought to look around for anyone else.
If they could be called anyone anymore.
Red templars.
Of course Orlais had red templars.
They should have seen this coming, really.
Hawke was tackled from the left, though Barkington threw herself into her master's attacker, allowing Hawke to roll to the side and get his blade in his hands before the templar could recover. He was one of the smaller ones, but he was still stronger than he should have been.
He flung Barkington away. The war dog managed to flip around so that she still landed on her feet. However, even as she moved to help her master, a lyrium shard thudded into the ground just inches behind her as she ran.
With a curse, Varric jerked Bianca from his back and whirled on the enemy, firing the second he saw a gangly figure loping toward them.
His first bolt struck the red templar in his shoulder, but they didn't even slow their pace, instead letting out a hellish scream as more lyrium pushed out of their body, ready to be flung.
His second bolt landed solidly in the center of the creature's forehead.
It was a relief that that actually took the damned thing down.
From what he'd heard, these guys were damned near unstoppable.
He barely had time to revel in his victory, however, as another half a dozen broke through the tree line.
An archer fell to Rivaini's blades before she ducked back into the shadows to loop around behind another of the furthest templars, and Varric shot the nearest red templar to the one she'd taken down to make sure no one realized they were being picked off from the rear.
As he aimed another bolt at the same templar, hoping to get him down before retreating from the charge, Hawke and Barkington swept past him, yells and barks drawing attention away from him.
Hawke beheaded the first to meet him, and let his momentum carry him into the next, his blade clashing with their lyrium-covered arm.
Rivaini joined the fray properly as she dispatched another of the smaller templars, only for yet another to notice her.
Barkington snapped and clawed angrily at the one going for Rivaini, trying to keep their attention.
Despite Hawke's attempt to keep the remaining templars' focused on himi, the last two continued toward Varric.
He finally took down the one he'd been working on, and moved to put some distance between himself and the last of the damned creatures.
However, even as he backtracked, a piece of red lyrium flew over his shoulder.
From behind him.
Turning, his heart sank as another half dozen red templars came out of the woods from the other direction, as though they were all converging on this damned point.
Considering this was a red lyrium mine, it did make sense that they'd have people on guard, though how their group had made it past them to begin with baffled him. They weren't the most discrete lot.
He didn't have time to wonder about the odds, and if Seeker would call bullshit on this story, like she did all his other fight scenes that had 'waves'.
As the red templar who had been after him reached him, Rivaini's blades sunk into his neck, sending the creature tumbling to the ground.
Even as she readied to go after another, an arrow slammed into her shoulder, spinning her to the ground.
She let out a low curse as Varric moved closer to guard her, picking out the archer and getting off a lucky shot right through the forehead again.
Even as he tried to figure out which of their attackers he should go after next, Hawke and Barkington were again charging forward.
However, this time, Hawke was caught off guard as a behemoth charged out of nowhere—it had to have come from the way they'd come, which made it even more bizarre that they'd made it this far.
The behemoth slammed Hawke and Barkington both into the air, and it was like slow motion as the two's bodies flew up, sword leaving Hawke's hand, bits of lyrium and armor and blood cluttering the air around them.
With a low curse, Varric shot a quick barrage into the oncoming group, managing to take out another. When he glanced to where Rivaini had been, she was gone, and he felt a fleeting sense of relief. At least she wasn't hurt so badly that she couldn't get up.
He sprang out of reach of their attackers, whirling around to get a feel for the battle. With the behemoth joining the remaining four, it was hard to see who was where, because there was just so much red lyrium.
How long did they have before they would start getting affected by this stuff? They needed to retreat.
They needed…
Something sharp cut into Varric's side, and he stumbled to the ground. Bianca landed just out of reach, and he grabbed a handful of dirt, hoping to toss it into his attacker's eyes, if nothing else.
As he rolled over to see the rogue templar who had snuck up on him, however, something stopped him.
Even with all the clashing of weapons and cries and hisses and barks and yelps, it somehow faded into mere background noise as he looked up at his attacker.
Or rather, the large stone hand that was gripping his attacker by the head.
Before he could even fully register what was going on, the red templar who had snuck up on him was being flung through the air. In their place stood a large creature that he would have recognized anywhere, even if he had never seen one in person before.
A golem.
An honest-to-Ancestors golem was standing in front of him.
In Orlais?
The golem looked down at him, expression unimpressed as it caught a second red templar that attacked it and bashed them into the cliff face with complete indifference. As the body crumpled to the ground, the golem glanced back at Varric let out a disgruntled cluck. "I do believe I saved it before its brains could be bashed, so why does it sit there and do nothing, I wonder?"
It took Varric a moment to realize the golem was talking about him. As soon as that sunk in, Varric filed this away as something to deal with later. With all the stuff that happened to him when he was around Hawke, he should have expected something like this.
Even with the behemoth, the rest of the fight went much quicker.
The behemoth was still a nightmare, but the golem was surprisingly agile, and with all of their attention on it, they managed to take the damned thing down once they'd finished picking off the smaller templars.
As it fell, there was a hush that fell over the mine's entrance as they all stood there, half waiting for more red templars to come after them—maybe up from the mine itself.
When no more enemies were forthcoming, the golem knelt down and poked at the behemoth, letting out a low hum. "Unfortunate."
Hawke gulped down a few breaths as he staggered over, leaning heavily to one side. "Come again?"
"I find it admirable to wish to shirk what was no doubt a squishy form at some point…" The golem rose to their feet, nudging the behemoth with their foot. "However, I think it went about this wrong. Not that there is a right way, I suppose."
Rivaini limped over, holding one arm, where she'd been injured by the arrow. Barkington stayed near her, favoring one paw as well.
Varric hesitated as he checked over Bianca for scratches that would need to be smoothed out, and then glanced around. His side ached, but he'd live. "Don't…golems have controllers?"
"It will keep to that line of questioning if it wishes its skull to be bashed like the others." Even as Varric's gaze snapped toward the golem to see if they were really willing to attack when they had just saved them, the stone creature sighed. "I am free to do as I please, and it pleases me to fight these…failed golems. It and its friends are terrible fighters," as the golem spoke, Hawke straightened up, indignant, "but it is the first time I have seen anything willing to fight them at all. If it will pick out the shards that stick in me, I will keep it and its friends' squishy bodies as intact as I am able."
Hawke let out a disbelieving laugh as he wobbled where he stood, staring up at the mass of sentient stone. "Well, you'll be glad to know that we're not the only ones fighting them."
"Oh? I see it was a better idea than I thought to save the little fleshy things. Let us retreat, and it may tell me more."