It was good to have something to do.

Perhaps it wasn't to further the Inquisition, but there was nothing Varania could do right now that would. All they could do was wait for Corypheus to show himself, to leave some clue they could follow.

She couldn't get Kieran's face out of her head. Whatever was waiting for her in the Fallow Mire, it was important. She could feel it. And if nothing else, it was a goal. It was something that would keep her from self imposed solitude and from rehashing what happened at the waterfall in her head over and over.

It was impossible to not be reminded.

It wasn't until after she. Morrigan and Kieran stumbled back out of the Fade that anyone noticed her face. But since then, even when they didn't say anything, their eyes all asked the same question.

You look different.

Her vallaslin was gone. She was not unhappy they were gone but she'd lost far more than her blood writing. She avoided the rotunda.

She readied herself instead to go to the Mire. It was distracting and it was easier to keep those recriminating thought away. Morrigan had agreed to accompany her and she sent runners to fetch Blackwall and Varric. Between the four of them, she expected they could manage anything the rift threw at them. It would be harder without Solas's magic, but she didn't want to ask.

Varric showed first, hastily tying his loose hair back behind his head. He wasn't paying much attention, fiddling with the leather thong as he walked.

"So what's the big…" He looked up and stopped talking, a quizzical expression sliding onto his face when he noticed hers with its newly distinct lack of decoration. "Huh."

Varania blinked slowly. "Go ahead," she said, opening them again. "Ask."

Varric made a face, considering. He seemed to be trying to read her like one of his books. "Later," he said, maybe seeing her reluctance. "After whatever this is." He made a vague hand gesture. "Looks nice though."

Varania let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. It was easy to feel like she was alone in all this, but sometimes her friends surprised her. A smile semblance of a smile crept into her eyes.

Her friends. She'd honestly never expected to be able to say that.

"Inquisitor?" A voice interrupted her. It was the runner she'd sent after Blackwall. He was a plain boy, young and ready to serve. His armor was still shiny but he was frowning. "Blackwall is gone."

Her smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. She put on her best Inquisitor voice. "See if anyone has seen him or knows what's happened while we are gone. But first, see if you can find Iron Bull. We need to leave soon."

"Of course Inquisitor." He nodded sharply and scurried off again. Varania watched his back as he disappeared around the corner. Of all the people she expected might leave the Inquisition, Blackwall certain had never come to mind. He seemed so steady and stable. She didn't like it.

"Well, that's weird," Varric said, moving up to stand beside her.

"It is," Varania muttered. It gave her an eerie feeling but she tried to push it down. One crisis at a time was all she could handle.

Before Varric could reply, Morrigan appeared and sauntered toward them. He cleared his throat instead. Morrigan had a way of halting conversations.

"Are we ready to depart?" Morrigan asked. It felt strange to talk Morrigan instead of Dorian or even Vivienne as another set of magical hands but it was her son who pointed them towards this. Varania could blame her for wanting to join them. She was only doing what she felt she had to in order to protect Kieran.

"Shortly," Varania replied. She took a breath and let it out sharply. "Has Kieran recovered completely? Did he say anything else?"

Morrigan shook her head. "He is quite well, but no, he has said nothing more about the Mire. He recalls everything, but he doesn't remember why he said what he did. 'Tis…" She paused. "Not unexpected."

Varania pursed her lips. "Is he different?"

"No, not particularly. He is still the same curious boy as always. It is a comfort."

Varania still didn't completely understand; she wasn't sure she wanted to. Mage or not, there were things she wasn't prepared to know. She still feared. Tevinter's demon's lingered.

Varric was surprisingly quiet. He usually had something to say to everyone, but Morrigan seemed to cow him. He fiddled with Bianca and carefully ignored them.

As they waited, a group of refugees started to make their way across the bridge into the keep. It was still daily occurrence. Varania always thought the arrivals would taper off eventually as they stabilized things - the mages and templars no longer fighting, the Orlesian civil war stopped - yet they came every day; groups of bedraggled souls looking for refuge.

She never turned them away. They found a place for everyone, whether they could contribute or not. If she wouldn't help them, she wasn't much of an Inquisitor. She couldn't bear the idea that she was only here because of a random act of fate putting the anchor into her hand. She wanted to be someone worthy of the title and that meant helping everyone she could. She prided herself on that, even as it stretched their resources to their limits.

This group looked haggard and exhausted as they usually did, but on the whole they seemed uninjured. A few mages stood out among the farmers, carrying staffs and using them to support themselves. Surprisingly, a Templar in dented and tarnished armor travelled with them as well. He was old but seemed in control of his faculties, which cullen told her was rare. Near the rear, one woman leaned heavily on her staff as she walked, hugely pregnant and struggling. Her face was too thin, her skin very pale under its dusting of freckles. Templar walked beside her, supporting her as they made their way through the gates.

Varania felt a pang of jealousy. She wasn't likely to ever have that chance. She was made for taking lives out of the world it seemed, not bring them in. At the same time, feared for her. This was no time to have a baby.

The mages already part of the Inquisition took turns in the courtyard, knowing that any new arrivals or returning soldiers would need immediate attention. Today, Fiona herself was tending to wounded, wiping brows and feeding those too weak to do it themselves as well as using her magic to heal when she could. Varania turned to watch the refugees pass. They didn't recognize her, perhaps because the Inquisitor was known to be a Dalish elf and these days she didn't appear as one of them any more. She swallowed bitterness in her throat.

Fiona looked up as the group drew closer and her eyes got big as saucers. She leapt to her feet, rushing through the group in a straight line toward the heavily pregnant mage.

"You're alive?" She looked shocked but then smiled broadly. It wasn't a common expression for her. "I was certain you were dead; I thought for certain you'd died at the conclave."

The woman shook her head, curls that escaped from the knot on the back of her head swinging.. "I didn't make it. I was sick, so sick and magic didn't help. Of course, it wouldn't because, I was pregnant, not sick." Her shoulders shuddered. "I thought I was too old. I thought he was too old, I never imagined…" Before she could finish, Fiona hugged her close.

Varania smiled. Perhaps that Templar was her lover? It wasn't uncommon she'd found, and as time passed, the invisible barrier between the two groups seemed to fade away. The Templar had walked away, going to help others without another look at the woman. Perhaps not him. Honestly, it didn't matter.

This child, these people, they were the reason she was doing this. People were surviving. Life went on, no matter what horrors were happening. She felt a surge of resolve. She hoped by the time they returned from the Mire, Cullen would have some word of Corypheus. She wanted to end this not just because it was right, but because she wanted the unexpected child in that mage's belly to grow up in an untainted world.

She might never have a child of her own, but she could save one. She could save many of them and that would have to be enough.

Her attention was focused so closely on Fiona and her friend that she never heard the soft cadence of footsteps behind her. She heard his voice before she saw him.

"Inquisitor." That voice made goosebumps raise on her skin. It always had, but it felt different now. She turned slowly and somewhat reluctantly to see Solas walking toward her with Iron Bull,, staff in hand. "I understand you're going to open a rift."

"Hey Boss," Bull interrupted, slapping a hand down on Solas's shoulder. "Is it time to go kick some demons in the ass?"

She cleared her throat, looking to find her voice. "Maybe." She couldn't help but look at Solas but his face was impassive as stone. "I'm not sure what we'll find, but we need to be ready for anything."

"Great," Bull said. He cocked his head, his horns tilting almost comically. She might have laughed if her heart hadn't been in the pit of her stomach. "Hm. Tattoos are gone. Bet that's a story." He seemed to read her expression and he stopped before asking anything else. Despite how he seemed, Bull was very observant. "Anyway, we can finish that chess game on the way. Ill kick your ass this time Solas."

Solas gave a wry smile and and looked at Bull out of the corner of his eye. "Anything could happen."

This was not going the way she planned.

Grand thoughts aside, Varania had grasped on the idea of going to Mire more selfishly than she'd wanted to admit. She wanted to get away from Skyhold, from Solas, from the way looking at him made her chest ache. She didn't want him walking silently beside her, carrying on his chess match with Bull, his voice hurting her every time he spoke.

He was being too normal; too much the same as he'd always been. She wondered if she'd really known him at all.

"So, where were we? Ah, yes. Mage to C4." Solas's voice felt like icy fingers on her neck.

"Little agressive," Bull replied, a smirk in his voice. "Arishok to H4. Check."

Varania did her best to tune them out. It wasn't easy. The Mire awaited them. All she could do was keep moving forward.

They found the Watcher of Sky almost exactly where they'd left him months before. He was an agent of the Inquisition now though he never left the Mire. Despite the soggy ground, refugees still made their way through the area and he would send word and offer aid, while still doing the religious duties he thought were necessary.

He seemed a good man, even if he was as alien as if he was from another world.

He didn't look at them as they approached but his posture changed when he heard their footsteps. His big shoulders slumped just slightly under his furs in relief.

"Good that you're here. This rift; it just tore open. I was about to send someone for you."

Of course it did. She would have been shocked if that was even still possible. She almost couldn't imagine something sincerely shocking her anymore.

"I knew it would," she admitted. "It's why we came." She turned to face her companions. She needed to be the Inquisitor now so she studiously refused to look at Solas and tried to keep her composure. "This may not be like the other rifts we've dealt with." She was proud of how her voice didn't waver. "I was directed here specifically. There is something special about this rift." She didn't know why it was different any more than they did, but she didn't let on. "It's too much to explain now, but it's possible that something other than demons may be involved. Be sure of your target before you engage." She gave Bull a pointed look.

"What?" He shrugged at her dramatically.

She didn't say anything, just looked at him. They both knew how he was.

He looked a bit offended but then he grinned. "I promise."

She spared a glance for the others, crackles of lightning already dancing over Morrigan's fingertips, Bianca readied in Varric's hands. As always, Solas stood passively, waiting. He never made a single move that wasn't needed. He was patient, too patient. He made her head hurt.

She spent too long just looking at him, tension blossoming in her forehead. If only she could be angry. If only she could scream at him, tell him that he was breaking her heart just standing there, insist he tell her why, but she couldn't. Even if she could, it wasn't the time. The anchor flared to life on her hand.

There was work to do.

Varania turned the palm of her hand toward the rift and the magic did the rest. Bright green light burst forward and hit the rift with unerring accuracy. She felt a crackle in the air around her as the Veil tore open.

Demons poured out like blood from a wound. They were small ones, insubstantial and little more than congealed spirits. They were easy enough to dispatch and certainly impossible to confuse for anything else. But there were so many of them. Usually five or six would spawn at a time, the power of the demons increasing the longer the rift remained open and the more demons it attracted. Instead there seemed to be a never ending stream of them. Everywhere she looked there was the green and orange wavering glow of spirits, blasts of otherwordly energy deflecting off the barrier Solas had cast around them.

Bull's sword flashed. Bolts flew from Bianca in every direction. Morrigan's lightning flashed. As they fought, the familiar sound of Solas casting beside her was oddly comforting, knowing he had her back. She'd find time to be sad about it later.

The demons fell, one after the other. None were much of a threat, but their sheer numbers began to wear on them. Bull started to move slower. Varania shot a bolt of energy at a nearby spirit and as it disappeared into nothing, the barrier around them failed, wavered and dissipated.

Just when it finally seemed they were making a dent in them, the rift began to vibrate, squeal with an ear splitting sound. It was a sound she knew well. Bull's voice bellowed out over the din.

"Pride Demon!"

Varania spun to face the rift as two forms tumbled out. She didn't even have time to register what sort of thing the second one was before the Price Demon shrieked and flung his electrified lash towards her. She didn't have time to react, her mana already failing her. She braced for the impact of the lash.

Solas screamed and a barrier sprung up around her just as the lash made contact. The force flung her onto her back into the soggy ground, but the lightning never touched her. She scrambled back to her feet. Solas nodded at her, but he was unsteady on his feet. That had cost him. She resisted the urge to go to him. It wouldn't do him any good if they didn't defeat the Pride Demon first.

Her staff slammed into the ground, a wave of energy blasting into the soil itself, radiating out towards the demon. The ground shook; it shook, lost its balance. The beast struggled to recover but it wasn't fast enough. The tip of Bull's greatsword appeared through its sternum.

There was one more. One more.

Movement out of the corner of her eye caught Varania's attention and she spun around, raising her staff, pouring the last of her mana into it. She felt it peak and the magic ready itself to spill. She focused her eyes.

Silver and blue armor.

Black hair. The figure raised its head and familiar blue eyes met hers.

The magic sizzled and died. Varania stared for a moment unable to process what she was seeing. From behind her, she heard Varric's voice.

"Oh shit….Inquisitor!" His voice grabbed her attention. The rift was vibrating again.

"Close the rift before more come through!" Solas's voice cut through the sound of the rift.

Varania spun around again and let the anchor do what it did, flaring to life on her palm. It never seemed to need her mana or her participation and despite her exhaustion, the anchor's light split through the fog and the rift closed with a crack.

She stared at the spot in the air where it hung. Her breath came in ragged gasps.

"Well fuck me sideways," Bull said.

Varania closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. Maybe she shouldn't have been shocked, all things considered, but the world seemed intent on proving her wrong. Slowly, she turned around just as the man in the blue and silver armor got to his feet and sheathed his sword.

She was wrong. The world was ready to surprise her at every turn.

"Welcome back to Thedas," she said, her voice a little thready and exhausted but with a genuine smile. It was a smile that said she should have known. "Warden Loghain."