"I thought the idea was we were just making sure the damned thing went back in?" Varric queried, with more than a little irritation… the way she was sniffing around the mouth of the cave made him nervous of what she was looking for. But as seemed to be the trend, she was forthcoming with neither answers nor instruction.

"Keep your voice down, do you want it to come out and fuck you up?"

"Exactly my point, why are we even still here?"

She grunted a curse before turning to him. Her movements were stiff, agitation replacing her usual languid demeanour. And that was enough to scare the shit out of him. "I can't shake the feeling they're nearby."

"Bellam and…?"

"The Tevinters. Hadriana's a tough task master, but nothing compared to the Magister she serves… I'd be amazed if they let the beast go this easily."

Suddenly Varric understood. "Bellam and Fernando were patrolling for their scouts and we were to keep the Varterral safe."

"Bingo. Keep this up and I might start to think you've got a brain…"

"But why were we protecting it?"

"Use your imagination." She responded curtly, making Varric aware beyond all doubt that this was a subject not to press her on, not yet anyway. "Be on your guard, because if I know Hadriana she'll have no problem fighting dirty… and Blood Mages aren't people you want to have the advantage."

….

Varric frowned in confusion as the elf's face contorted into a scowl. "Something I said?"

"That name…" His voice was low, and the dwarf knew the warning signs immediately… and an aggressive, very drunk Fenris was not something he especially wanted to deal with. Especially with the bar so full of 'merry' patrons just beyond the door to vent his anger on.

"Bianca?"

"Hadriana."

"You don't like it? I can always call her 'Blood Mage A' from now on if you like?"

"What was the name of her Master?"

The dark glint in the man's eyes was enough to make the dwarf severely uncomfortable, he knew there was something to this, but without knowing what it was he couldn't do anything to ease the situation… but he couldn't find out without first exacerbating it.

"I don't know… I can't say I spoke to her much… too busy, um, dodging the scary Blood Mage when she was trying to kill me…"

Fenris seemed to settle, though he still seemed agitated. "Denarius had an apprentice by that name."

"I take it you didn't get along?"

"I don't know many people who get along with their tormenters."

"Would you like to hear how we handed her own backside to her?"

To his immense surprise a low, hearty, almost terrifying chuckle rumbled from the elf's chest. "I do."

…

The sun had long passed midday, and Varric was definitely feeling the boredom. They'd been sat here all day, hidden behind a pair of solid boulders above the mouth of the cave. His throat was parched from the arid air, and he had a frustrating itch just behind his left shoulder that refused to be ignored.

Bianca crouched nearby, showing no sign of the tension that had long since forced him to sit. She was focused, yet relaxed, constantly alert to any unusual sounds, but never jumping at shadows. Her composure had been inspiring, for the first few hours, but now it was simply irritating.

For what felt like the millionth time, he ran his gaze over the same old clearing, seeing the same old nothing he'd been familiar with for some time now. He'd even started to tune out the occasional rumblings of the monster scurrying about its nest below.

The first such occurrence had seemed to him like a minor earthquake. The ground had shook, startling him out of a rather inappropriate daydream starring his companion, and he'd dropped the crossbow bolt he'd been nonchalantly twirling between his fingers. Bianca hadn't twitched a muscle, save to shoot him a mischievous, almost mocking smirk.

"Try not to fall asleep again, Newbie."

Even now the words echoed around his head, goading him, frustrating him. He was supposed to prove himself to this woman, but how was he supposed to do that when there was nothing to do?

He stretched, working out some of the stiffness in his arms, and glanced at his new boss. "They're a bit late reporting in," he said. "I'm going to have a poke around."

"Don't go too far."

Slowly, he eased himself to his feet, stamping his boots on the floor to force some feeling back into his legs, and started to pick his way down the mountain face. The footing was solid, and the slope wasn't too sheer, but the descent to the clearing below still took some time.

Feet back on the ground, he wiped the sweat from his brow and checked his gear. Everything seemed to be secure, so he began to stomp his way towards the treeline. Again, it was slow going. Entire tree-trunks lay across the ground, uprooted by the Vartarrel, or perhaps by the Tevinters during their initial capture of the beast.

He'd navigated his way past the worst of them and was approaching the edge of the clearing when he heard Bianca call his name. Turning to her, he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, which was hanging low over the ridge of the mountain.

"They went north, Newbie. Not south."

Varric growled in frustration. The woman was beginning to get insufferable. Sat up on her rock; laughing down at him. If Bartrand wasn't expecting him to befriend the woman, he'd certainly not be putting up with such treatment.

Only I probably would. He had to admit it. Even after all the trials, the mocking looks, the way she openly laughed at him when he said something to prove his inexperience, he found himself respecting the woman in a way he hadn't anyone before. Not even his brother.

Varric wasn't quite sure what it was about her. It was probably something to do with honour or integrity, or some such. Not something he was considered an expert in, at any rate.

He refused to move, reticent to respond openly to her teasing. Instead he squinted, shielded his eyes and took a measured study of the clearing. The heavy sunlight bore down upon his vision like a weight, and it took him a moment to compose himself.

Several gnarled shadows depicted trees, yet it was another more rigid and spiny structure that caught Varric's attention. He realised quickly, of course, that it was probably the cage that had been used to detain the Varterral. He wasn't sure why, but he made his way over, a little curious to see this work of the Tevinter Magisters. As the cage came into clearer view, he could see where its destruction had been caused by the fury and flurry of huge arachnid like legs. As he approached the darkened shadow, he was surprised to find himself sharing Bianca's apparent venom for the venture. How could anyone take something from the mountainside it called home and shove it in such a cruel prison? It was now right before his eyes, spikes and twisted spears of black steel stood warped and crushed before him. Such a bizarre thing to witness on the bleak yet green peaks of Sundermount. A chink of metal beneath his boots made him take pause and look to the ground beneath his feet.

To Varric's immense surprise the vast door that lay before him was almost completely unscathed from the creature's outburst.

Now, he hadn't dealt with many cages that were big enough to hold anything but nugs, but he'd never known anything to escape a cage with the door completely intact.

The solitary chink of a small piece of flint seemed to betray itself in the now waning sunlight. The merchant crouched and retrieved it from the ground for inspection. A lock-bolt to be certain… or it had been before it had been keenly bashed from behind by something blunt; and probably metal judging by the precise laceration at the tip. A metal hilt, perhaps?

Seriously? That thing getting out was no accident?

Varric pushed such thoughts from his mind. What was it to him if it was an accident or not?

Yet still, he did not return the finger-like weight of metal to the ground. He held it closer to his nose to further his inspection. There was a focus around the very centre in the width of the lock… A smaller hilt? Something thinner than the sword he had previously considered? With a specific tip…

He sighed and dropped the curious piece of metal into his chest pocket, before turning to make his way back to Bianca. He had had his walk, and had his fun. Now it was time to get back to business... and crouching…

He took one more gaze at the warm sun, and the dusk that was encroaching in hues of pinks and purples on the mountainside. He mused with some amusement that Bartrand would probably have had him shot if he had ever realised the romantic way in which his brother gazed at the world sometimes. He had made a note long ago never to entertain Bartrand with any of his stories.

Somewhat achingly and begrudgingly, he made his way back to the slope. However as he reached the base, Varric paused and his breath hitched.

Did he hear voices up there? Bellam and Ferdinand had snuck passed him?! The bag of bones and the cutlery drawer?!

"Where is the Varterral, bitch?"

"Like I'd tell you, nug humper."

His blood ran cold, and for a moment, Varric's heart stalled. Were these the Tevinters Bianca had been so worried about? He had been admiring the sunset and they had just waltzed in behind him. He cursed, and prepped his crossbow. In the back of his mind, he knew the chance to prove himself had been presented, but all he could think about were his quaking limbs, and his desire to save the woman who obviously was facing off enemies a few metres above his head.

He made his way up the scree, with as much care, speed and stealth as he could muster. It seemed that the battle that commenced above his head was enough to distract the enemies and reward his efforts, he eased himself into a hidden position where he could see the scene playing out and took aim.

Bianca held off a number of warriors… lesser warriors by the judge of things. He'd have taken aim in sincerity if he'd thought he had a chance at hitting with half the accuracy the flurry of her daggers attained, and they were taking out the men one by one with a deliberate succession.

A glow of red to his left caught his eye, and a figure he had not previously noticed in regal robes tossed an aureate and bloodied hue of light between his hands, his gaze seemingly fixed on the small woman who ably held off a number of his underlings.

Varric knew it was bad news.

Without thinking, his crossbow was cast aside and his legs moved with a mind of their own. They barrelled towards Bianca, who dispatched her current enemy and shot Varric a shocked and confused expression. But before she could engage her next foe or speak the warning tore from his own throat, "GET DOWN!"

He threw himself at her and tackled her to the ground, feeling a ripping pain that seemed to tear through his back as he jumped to pull her down. He fell to the ground, very much aware of the grit and the stones that he crashed into. He was aware of her voice, calling his newly appointed name 'Newbie.' He could feel her grip on his shoulders as she turned him onto his back, tight at first but then loosening as she surged forward beyond him, he heard Fernando's welcome battle charge reach his ears and the whistle of Bellam's bolts thunder forth…

"You'll regret this. Hadriana will see to that…"

Varric's gaze swivelled to the darkening blue above him. His eyes were heavy and the pain that now throbbed throughout his body was unbearable.

His eyes shut against his will, and the last things he was aware of were the numerous footsteps that thundered into the distance and beyond comprehension… and Bianca's voice that called his name.

…

"What?!" Varric pouted as the elf's eyebrow raised dramatically.

"That is hardly 'handing Hadriana's own backside to her'…"

"… I'm not up to that bit yet…"

"Hmmmmm…"

"Why are you so obsessed with this broad anyway?"

"You don't want to know…"

"Are you drunk…?" The dwarf chuckled, rather cack-handedly topping up his own glass… ignoring the slops of ale that poured to the table.

"Maybe… "

"Should I continue?"

"…proceed…"

…

"Back in the land of living, I'm glad to see… Mother will be pleased…"

Varric grunted, his mouth and throat were dry as bone. "Well she would if she weren't in the sodding stone." He croaked. Although intended to be a joke, the humour seemed to fall flat with his raspy tone.

"Bah… you're breathing, that's what matters… and it seems that you did what I sent you to do so I got no complaints…"

The young merchant looked up into the whiskery face of his brother. "Is she alright?"

"Is she alright? She basically carried you back and gave me hell for having the nerve to send you up Sundermount without proper gear!"

"Ball-buster till the end, eh?" He smiled fondly and settled back more comfortably into the bed he was lain upon.

"Although I do have one question, besides pissing off a Tevinter Magister you picked up this…"

Varric focused on the small metal bolt in front of his eyes. "…And…?"

"What's your expert opinion, Brother? You seem the most handy with brainwork…?"

"Someone bopped it out with a hilt… so? Probably just a pissed off elf…"

"Hmmmm… well get rested, Brother, we'll have plenty of work when we're appointed members of the Carta."

"I'm not sure we're allowed in just yet, Bartrand."

The dark snicker of the man beside him made him oddly reassured yet a little frightened at the same time. "Trust your brother, Varric."