He didn't want to talk about it and Varania didn't blame him.

Loghain looked terrible; thin, too thin, his hair overlong and hanging into his eyes, ringed with dark purple circles. Granted, he looked dramatically better than she'd ever expected. The fact that he wasn't dead was a miracle in and of itself.

She wondered how much of this was Kieran and how much had truly been from whatever it was that Flemeth took from him. Kieran was heartbroken to discover who his father was, only after he was dead but he was just a little boy, despite the wisdom she saw in his eyes. Morrigan said her mother had wanted the spirit all along, but Varania couldn't entirely wrap her head around it. What exactly was it?

Loghain didn't want to talk about what happened to him, but he had a question of his own.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Solas had once told her that the Fade corresponded to places in the real world, and he commented something to that effect in response, but he didn't know the whole truth. She hadn't bothered to tell him, but he'd come anyway.

Varania wondered what that meant but didn't have time to ponder it. Morrigan answered Loghain's question with far more honesty than seemed typical for her. Usually she was evasive; now she was direct.

"From your son before the spirit of the Old God was taken from him." Morrigan's voice didn't waver, flat and emotionless.

Loghain stopped dead in his tracks. They all did. He looked at Morrigan blankly. Everyone went deadly silent. Even Bull said nothing, though when Varania glanced toward him she could see a flurry of words threatening to spill out.

Varania knew only a little about the Blight. She'd been in Tevinter for the entire thing and the darkspawn had never gotten that far. But she'd been given a chance to learn more than just spells once her magic manifested. She knew the Chantry in Tevinter had a far different idea about the Blight than they did here in the south, but there was one thing they agreed on.

The Blight happened because an Old God was corrupted into an archdemon.

A Old God; an ancient dragon god of Tevinter.

How?

Varania didn't even know where to begin.

"Does that mean?" Loghain spoke quietly, a hushed cadence of words that made the hair on her neck stand up.

Morrigan shook her head. "No, he is not dead. He is well. But what we did to him…." Morrigan didn't continue, just shook her head again and took a breath, looking at the ground. She lifted her head sharply then, her eyes flashed defiantly. "But do not fear that will change my promise to you. Your daughter's throne is safe."

Loghain frowned, the creases around his mouth deep and shadowed.

"That wasn't what…" He began but Morrigan cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"I know," she said, her voice cracking at the end of the word. "Now that it is done and this is done, there is naught more either of us can do for the Inquisition. Kieran and I will be leaving as soon as is possible." She pursed her lips. "But you are welcome to meet him, if you wish, assuming the Inquisitor does not plan to send you direct to Weisshaupt with the others." She turned her attention back to Varania.

Varania was utterly at a loss but she felt everyone's attention turn to her for a decision. Whatever she'd decided about the rest of the Grey Wardens, she wouldn't send Loghain on a trip of a thousand miles without meeting his son, if he could even survive the journey in his current condition. She'd let Blackwall stay after all, what was one more?

Blackwall was another mess she'd have to unravel once they returned, but she pushed that thought away.

"Loghain is welcome at Skyhold for as long as he wishes. He's more than earned the right." She used her best Inquisitor voice, though it sounded hollow to her own ears. She had so many questions, but she suspected that Morrigan would revert to her usual cryptic replies if she even tried.

They stood in silence again, exchanging glances. Morrigan inspected her fingers as if they were immensely interesting.

Varric cleared his throat and Varania startled. "Camp is just up ahead," he said. "Let's ah...go there and...do...things." It was so unlike him to struggle to find words but she couldn't blame him for being unnerved.

"Yeah, boss," Bull chimed in, apparently holding up a little better or at least hiding it well. "Sword's gonna rust before we get there at this rate."

She didn't trust her ability to use her voice at this point. Instead, Varania nodded and turned back toward the trail that lead to the Mire camp. She heard their footsteps start up behind her.

Solas was conspicuously silent but his face had a strangely satisfied expression before she'd turned away. She didn't dare contemplate what that meant.

The camp was efficient and familiar. They were all similar, no matter where they were and it was comforting in its familiarity. The medics immediately took charge of Loghain, ushering him into a tent. The others found their own solace in food and rest and banal conversation, though they all carefully avoided the proverbial demon in the room.

Varania had so many things to consider that she couldn't think of anything as stood just inside the ring of warmth from the fire staring blankly into the flames. She didn't want to eat or rest or even sit. It felt like if she stopped standing she'd never be able to get up again.

But Loghain was alive and at least that was something good. She tried to cling on to that idea but it was slippery. The voices of the Well were utterly silent.

She heard footsteps approach. They were tentative, hesitant. She took a deep breath and sighed. She'd wasn't going to fall apart. She was just tired. And heartbroken. And she didn't want to talk about it. Not about Loghain or Old Gods or her vallaslin or anything. She turned towards the sound, planning to snap at whoever it was to leave her alone.

Varania spun around and the threatening, caustic words died in her throat.

"Inquisitor."

"Solas."

"Might I have a moment of your time?" His voice was soft, neutral. She wished she could snap at him like she would have to anyone else, but she found she couldn't. He made her chest ache instead.

"Of course."

He gestured with his hand for her to follow and she did without hesitation. A part of her niggled at the realization that she'd follow him to the Black City if he only asked. It made her worried for her sanity. Instead she staunchly refused to think about it as she walked behind him, trying not to be taken in by the swaggering grace of his steps.

They moved just outside of the camp nestled in a valley between the rounded stones and stopped at the edge of a stream where it flowed silently into a small pond, still as a sleeping eluvian. Since they'd been here last, the dead no longer walked when the water was disturbed, but it felt ominous nonetheless.

"I'm sorry," Solas said, voice still quiet. A part of her pricked up at his words, looking at him expectantly. Maybe he'd come to his senses, maybe he was… "I should not have assumed you required my assistance but when I heard you were coming to open a rift, I felt compelled. Perhaps my curiosity overcame my better judgement as it too frequently does." He snorted a mirthless laugh. "I apologize if I intruded."

Varania's heart sank.

"No it's...it's fine," she managed to eek out. "You spared me from a nasty burn from that demon. I should thank you instead of you apologizing."

Solas nodded. "I was glad to be of assistance. I only...I don't wish to make this any more difficult than it perhaps already is."

Something inside her snapped. She wrapped her arms around herself, tears welling into her eyes. "Perhaps? Perhaps harder?" She let out her breath in a sound of frustration. "If you don't want to make this harder, then just don't." Solas took a half step away from her. "Don't you dare walk away," she snapped before he could move any further.

He didn't move again, but his mouth was a thin line across his face.

"Say something!" she spat at him. "How...you said…" Her voice cracked. Her face was hot. "You said…."

"I said," he muttered, looking at the ground and then back up again. His eyebrows drew down at the corners. "I said I would hurt you. And I have."

"But why?" she implored. She untangled a hand from around her middle and batted at her eyes. "Why won't you talk to me? You said…" She repeated herself, desperate to finish what she'd begun before he interrupted her. Her lungs burned. "You said you loved me."

Solas looked like she'd slapped him across the face. He was as pale as she'd ever seen him. His lip twitched.

"I do." He didn't look away, though she could see him struggle not to.

Her voice was a ragged whisper. "Then why?"

"Because it cannot change what is to come, no matter how much I might wish it to." He looked away this time, shoulders sagging. "I am sorry for more things than you could possibly understand."

Varania struggled to speak but her words were choked away by the tears she suddenly couldn't control. She hadn't let herself fall apart before. She'd been trying so hard to be strong, to hang on to that part of her that had faith in what they felt for each other. But the tears came, streaming down her face no matter how hard she tried to quell them. It was impossible to breathe.

Solas looked back at her and swallowed hard. She saw him waver, saw his resolve waver. He closed his eyes slowly and opened them again. He turned back to her, reached out and wiped tears from the ridge of her cheekbone with his thumb.

"I never wanted to hurt you, vhenan," he murmured. "But better that it is now. Better now, before," he paused and swallowed again. "Before things are different." He tried to smile at her, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You are much stronger than you think. This will not break you."

He dropped his hand and turned away again. She instinctively reached out toward him but let her hand drop, letting him walk away. His feet made damp sounds against the soggy ground. Varania swallowed her tears and her heart and let him go. Again. She wiped at her face, fanning herself, willing the heat in her skin to subside.

She straightened her back. He was right about one thing. After all she'd been through, after all she'd overcome, Varania was strong. She was even stronger than he thought she was. She wasn't giving up on him, no matter what he said. Her heart pounded against her ribs.

You said you loved me.

I do.

There was hope, no matter how grim and fatalistic Solas insisted on being. There was always hope. She would simply have to have enough for them both.