"It's more than silence, more than stillness, it's a void."

Samson looked a little better since Garrett had employed the man. His hands shook every so often, and there were red rings under his eyes that never seemed to want to go away, but the ex-Templar no longer begged for lyrium every chance he got, and he now ate and drank like a normal person would, if somewhat little for a man of his stature.

He was still something of a skeleton, but one that didn't look ready to fall over in the face of a stiff breeze any more. The respectable clothes Garrett had gifted the man almost made him look like someone in an important position, which Garrett would argue the man was. He still looked like an addict though, and as such he stayed mostly in the estates where the people knew him and were friendly enough not to deride him. Doubt he'll ever fully recover, ah well, at least he's alive, and helping me.

They were in one of the more esoteric rooms of the estate, a relatively small round chamber with a high roof supported by slim pillars of white marble. Before, the walls had been decorated by various 'erotic' art that the previous owners had put up. Garrett had had that burnt – he couldn't well sell it with the consequences that might bear, nor did he want to keep it – and had let Samson put what he wished in it. The crimson red banners the man had picked were as far from Lyrium blue you could get, yet at the same time something about them screamed 'Templar'...Garrett hadn't dared ask the man for his reasoning for the choice of decoration. Instead he sat on the red cushions covering the floor along the walls, legs crossed, and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure I understand."

Samson smiled, the man was becoming a more and more patient teacher the more he was allowed to recuperate. Maybe I should try and have him and Gamlen talk? Gamlen could use a friend with a similar addiction problem, but who's controlling his... "Think of a deep sleep, for us non-mages, we don't actually feel ourselves being in the Fade, nor anywhere else. It's darkness, death..." He chuckled at Garrett's grimace. "Death is not a bad state, it's not a good one either, it's nothing. Remember that, nothing."

Garrett frowned. "I...understand what you're getting at, but peace and neutrality of mind is one thing, you're asking me to feel something you can't feel." Samson shifted where he sat, a tendon loudly cracking. Ah, we've been sitting here for longer than planned again? Samson was still too afraid of being thrown on the street to say anything, yet the crack was a clear sign, Garrett couldn't help himself though. This is such a fascinating subject. It's like magic, yet the opposite, I...one can almost understand the mages, Bethany and Merrill and maybe even Anders, with this... "How can I even try it then?"

"It's not about reaching the state...you can't reach it, then you'd actually be dead some templars postulate." Samson replied, shrugging. "But think of an artist, ever striving to perfect their art...they don't reach it, but they get close...and in so doing, touch the face of the Maker, a glimpse of perfection." Garrett blinked, having forgotten that ever since Samson had been pulled out of the gutter, he'd had gotten a taste for the poetic. "A glimpse, a touch, is all you need, no mortal can withstand that."

"Except, perhaps, the perfect mage?" Garrett found himself asking the hypothetical question, curious what an ex-Templar would say to it.

The man's face turned sad, however. "It takes time to become perfect like that, to become powerful like that, the order would not allow such a threat..." He turned his face, a shudder running through him. "...and they're there during teaching, and guard over the mages as they sleep..."

Garrett swallowed, there was no need for elaboration. Harsh but necessary if one views the mages as the threat of all threats...but if everyone knew... He shook aside the thought. They wouldn't care, none but those who are family of the odd mage would care, that is the true blight plaguing us. None care what the templars do to the mages, not as long as it's not their problem...in the same vein, none care when a mage goes mad and kills a lot of people, as long as it's not those they care about. The system breaks when there's no one maintaining it...when there's no debate, only doctrine. "I see..anyway, about that void...?"

"Yes." Samson looked relieved to the change of topic. "Imagine a point, a black point far in the distance, look at it in your mind, really look at it, make it-"

At the far end of the room, the door swung open, making Garrett and Samson both look over to it in annoyance. Bastile shot Samson a look that could curdle butter – the Chevalier didn't much care for addicts, no matter how much one explained to him about Samson's specific condition – but swiftly turned his gaze to Garrett with an apologetic bow of his head. "Pardon, serah, but you have visitors."

Last visitor were Athenril and her gang. Garrett smoothly rose to his feet, making Samson fail to hide a look of relief as the ex-Templar struggled to rise on stiff legs. This better not be a repetition of that. "Who is it?"

"Bastile shot a glance back, his frown telling someone out of sight to wait, then he looked back to Garrett. "Well both seem urgent, but I thought you'd need to know about the first one first...Comte de Launcet is here to see lady Hawke." Garrett grit his teeth as the ex-Chevalier arched an eyebrow. "I asked him to wait at the gate as I checked for her whereabouts..."

Thank you. "This is his tenth visit in one month, and without his wife or son...fool or not, it would look better if the boy came along...that's...no, it's bad enough that people are already talking about one Hawke and his..." And his what? His elf? Garrett bit back a curse, then shook his head. "She's out, yes, tell him she's out riding in my new farmlands, wanting to take in the view and aid me in organising the new Fereldian hires." Maker, that turned expensive, I need to cut investments for a while and wait until the investments pay off before making any new ones. Damn Darkspawn bred quickly too, ruining the chance for more expeditions into the Deep Roads...ah well, as long as nothing major happens, it should be okay.

"Should I go to her quarters and tell lady Hawke this as well...?" Bastile asked, a hint of humour in his usually grizzled face.

Garrett grimaced. One battle at a time. "No, I'm sure she'll find out later but be wise enough to play along, and then when she gets home...well just send her to me."

"I doubt I could stop her." Bastile dryly retorted, unfazed by the glare Garrett shot him at the words as he continued. "Now, for the second visitor, I believe lady Merrill wishes to..." The elf shot past Bastile, despite him filling the doorway, like a ferret, her eyes wide and disquieted, her lips trembling. "...speak to you."

Garrett, taking one look at the elf as she slid to an uncertain stop, moved closer, head bowed to look down at her, offering a gentle and reassuring smile. "Hey...what's going on? You look upset."

"I...it's...it's..." Merrill hesitated, big eyes suddenly looking at Garrett with hesitation, her body twisting slightly away from him, as if suddenly wishing to run. Garrett took a step closer, eyes soft and eyebrows arched, coaxing more out of her. "...the mirror, you know, that I brought home and..."

Garrett's eyes hardened, making Merrill flinch back, yet he was already looking elsewhere, glancing at Samson and Bastile, his command sharp. "Leave us." A shake of his head as Bastile arched an eyebrow and Samson two, and he found himself adding. "Please"

Without a word, Samson hurried for the door, Bastile lingered near it though, giving Garrett and Merrill a worried look...and then pointedly closed the door.

Now alone with the woman, Garrett turned his gaze back to her, the sight of her fretting making his gaze soften, but only slightly. "What about the mirror?" He shook his head. "Tell me everything."

"Well, as you know, I've tried putting it back together, to fix it..." Merrill hesitated, clearly expecting Garrett to protest as he usually did. This time, however, he held his tongue, intent to hear what she had to say. Maker, I swear, she's her own worst enemy...how do you protect someone from themselves? How can someone so bright be so...dumb in one particular case? Garrett didn't like the answer to either of those questions. "...but it won't work."

Well that's...good. Garrett kept scowling though, expecting more to come.

Merrill didn't disappoint. "I need help." Garrett clenched his teeth shut and took a deep breath as the elf before him fretted, shaking her head at the floor. "I need...something, I think I know what...erm...Dhavine told me what was needed and I know what's capable of just that."

What a coincidence, Dhavine is willing to help you, and you know just the thing she's suggesting is needed to mend the thing she's trapped in, such luck...

Merrill looked at him, eyes wide, expecting him to yell, perhaps...yet Garrett held his tongue, letting her speak. "I need an ancient tool of my people, an Arulin'Holm, my own clan has one, but...well, the Keeper won't give me it willingly." How surprising. "I can invoke Vir'Suhle'Vahnan. The way of the Dalish is that all are allowed access to all things, even the protected. But then the Keeper is allowed to set a task for me...and I know her, she will set one that's scary, one I might not dare do...so if you could...help me...?" She offered a hopeful look that could have melted ice.

Garrett wasn't one to melt, however, and found his scowl deepening. "Are you done?"

"Errr...yes?" Merrill hesitated, looking like she suddenly wished to leave the room.

"Good, I've listened to you, now you're going to listen to me." Garrett growled. Merrill's eyes widened in fear, but unsurprisingly, she didn't take a step back. Maker, hate her stubbornness, hidden behind false meekness. "This is a very dangerous path you're taking, and as you know, not one I approve of." He sighed. "You are very smart, Merrill, but I believe your vision is clouded here."

To his surprise, Merrill managed to keep herself from speaking, her eyes just looking sadly back at him.

"And by who but Dhavine? Isn't it curious that she's wishing to help you so much? This demon, locked in a prison...wants you to fix it?" Garrett saw Merrill open her mouth to speak, and continued before she could. "And yes, I know, she's been very 'honest' with you, she wants to be free and all creatures do...but have you ever considered why she was locked up in the first place?" Merrill hesitated. "Thought not." Garrett shook his head. "She's tried to trick us once-"

"To be fair, she wasn't-"

"Let me finish." Garrett snapped, silencing Merrill. "Then she tried to kill us-"

Merrill took a step closer, eyes bright, refusing to be silenced for more than a moment. "Hey! That was only in self-def-"

"So she tells it! What did you think she read that tome for? For fun?" Garrett snapped, watching Merrill groan and pull back, the elf looking as frustrated as he felt. "And you're willing to trust her word? Hers over mine? Over Anders? Over everyone in your clan? Over everyone you know? Why? Why should you trust her? She's using you to get what she wants, and when she's done-"

"Don't you think that I'm using her!?" Merrill snapped, shaking her head at him. "I'm not some innocent child that Isabela, Varric and Aveline seem to think! I know exactly what I'm doing! I take precautions! Dhavine is not controlling me! Nor will she turn on me! I know it!"

"Know or desire?" Garrett snapped back, making the elf cry out in frustration and step even further back, turning her back to him, then twirl back around to glare at him as he continued. "You've placed all your trust into this mirror, that it'll somehow magically aid your people and make them all happy and safe again...but they don't even want that mirror, ...even if you fix it, they won't use it! And they shouldn't! Who knows what's inside that thing but that demon!?" Garrett found his shoulders slump as Merrill did nothing but glare back. "You want to help, I know, and you've put so much work into this, but...it won't help them, Merrill.."

Merrill blinked, and then smiled a sweet smile that Garrett recognised even before she spoke, her tone full of anger veiled by a thin layer of friendliness. "I'm sorry...did you just say you know better than me how to help my people..?"

Garrett didn't hesitate, unwilling to allow the elf any respite or to derail the argument. "In this? Yes! You are fixated on a thing that in no way is connected to your people any more! You yourself said these mirrors were lost! How will having one of them help your people?! It would be like having a boat in the desert, you won't get anywhere with it!" He caught himself taking a step closer, some of the heat dying from his voice. "And now you want us to go and do some task for the Keeper, no doubt something dangerous...what if one of us dies doing that? Would you be okay with that...?"

That struck home, the elf taking a step back, arms around herself as she looked away. "No..." Then she looked back again, her hesitation forgotten. "...but that won't happen, not if we work together."

Garrett sighed, shoulders slumping as he looked away, ignoring the jab of guilt in his chest. "If this is what you want us to do...then no, I won't help you." He looked back to Merrill with sad eyes, watching her raise her chin in defiance. "I can't help you risk your life in getting something you shouldn't use..."

Merrill's chin remained raised, her body stiff like a blade. "Then I'll go alone."

Garrett went cold. "You...wouldn't do that?"

"It's riskier but..." Merrill shook her head, snorting. "...I feel that I must do this, alone if needed." She looked away. "After the clan and all...it's kind of what I expected anyway..."

"I...damn you, Merrill!" Garrett growled, making the elf look back at him in surprise. He took a step closer, then another, grimacing. "You're...I can't just...Maker, damn you." He reached out, hand grazing the elf's forehead, pushing back a rogue strand of hair before he remembered himself and lowered the arm. "I won't let you risk yourself like that...I can't just do nothing..."

Merrill blinked, gaze darting to Garrett's hand, then up to his face, her throat moving as she swallowed. "So you'll...help me?"

"I don't like it but..." Garrett took a step back, fingers tingling as he took a shuddering breath, frustrated and...frightened. "...I'll help you, if only to keep you alive."

"The clan gave up on...but you..." Merrill blinked, a hand drifting to her hair...and then looked away. "Thank you."

Garrett just stared back, distress gripping his heart.

Maker, you scare me...

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"You're here to...help her?" Keeper Marethari's voice was full of surprise and confusion.

Garrett looked around, shoulders slumped in defeat.

On his right, Maric sat on his haunches, the Mabari seemingly scowling at the Keeper. On his left, Merrill stood straight as a blade, chin held high despite her Keeper's disapproval and the many glares the group, and her in particular, was receiving from the not so subtly armed Dalish around in camp. You're going to be the death of me, woman.

At his back, most of the gang stood, a mixture of supportive and hostile looks on their faces, aimed at the back of their Dalish companion. Anders had been convinced to come only by Garrett arguing that another mage might be required to be sure Merrill didn't try to pull something, Garrett trusted the elf with his life...but not with her own. Fenris had also been convinced to come, despite his vehement protest...it had cost Garrett a small fortune though, something he was still grumbling about. Better safe than sorry...Maker, given how much I've paid him though, I wish he'd stop looking at Merrill as if he's about to kill her.

Aveline hadn't been able to come, for which she had apologised for quite profusely, mostly to Merrill, much to Garrett's surprise. Varric had of course come, the man voicing his worries, worries Garrett shared, in private before cheerily supporting Merrill and keeping her spirits up as they moved towards the Dalish camp. Isabela had also come, the woman having volunteered to help of all things...she had studiously avoided Garrett's questions about that, but the smile she'd offered the Dalish was enough of an answer.

You have friends, you have those who care about you, none who wants to see you get hurt...stop this... Garrett looked to Merrill, silently pleading for her, as he had for a hundred times already, but the elf looked to Marethari only, ignoring him, though with a lower lip trembling for a moment. "I guess we are, yes."

"Well?" Merrill's tone was determined and impatient, holding surprisingly little kindness in them as she demanded Marethari's attention. So different from otherwise...I don't like this... "I've invoked Vir'Suhle'Vahnan for the Arulin'Holm, what say you?"

Please say no, please say no, please say no...

"I..." Marethari looked as if in actual pain, giving Garrett a pleading look, one he mirrored back...and then she turned back to Merrill. "...cannot deny you, it is your right, but it is my right to set the task you must complete, this you know, yes?"

Damn.

"Of course, say it, and it'll be done." Merrill snapped, her tense posture screaming impatience. Like Gamlen when he's itching for a drink...Maker, how didn't I see this for how bad it was...?

Marethari ignored Merrill's eagerness though, calm eyes looking back to Garrett. "You are not of the Dalish, you are not obligated to help her, nor to protect her, the path she's chosen is her own..."

Garrett grit his teeth, a jolt of anger shooting through him at the words. "I look after my kin, even when – no, especially when – they're foolish...it's called being a friend." Maker, would I have said this only a few years ago? So much has changed...

Marethari winced at the words, perhaps feeling guilt, perhaps reacting to his inclusion of Merrill as kin...but soon resumed her calm look. "You risk all for one, you know...the Dalish cannot afford such risks."

"I protect all by protecting one, the small fits into the big, no person is alone." Garrett scowled, already tired from speaking to the Keeper. Maker, do all Dalish but Merrill act like they know best and are superior all the time? "I thought the Dalish would know this better than most."

Marethari's forehead crinkled into a hostile frown, a few of the nearby Dalish visibly tensing, like mad dogs, ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. Merrill defused the moment with a growl though, her impatience clear. "Keeper, you cannot deny me, then give me a task and I'll leave the clan alone." She grimaced, a look of real anger crossing her face. "Don't want to risk them being infected by my thoughts, after all..."

All of the group, even Fenris, shot the elf a surprised look at that, but Merrill ignored them, her posture screaming for an end to the talk and for them to go on with their task. Marethari, grief in her eyes, as if Merrill was some corpse she was looking at, shook her head. "Very well...you surely know of the great cave at the base of Sundermount? In there, a Varterral has its nest, we only recently found this out. While the clan can easily avoid the beast, it's still a risk...so I task you with putting an end to it."

Garrett, raking his brain for all the books he'd read on various animals and beasts, blinked. "What in Thedas is a Varterral?" He looked to his left. "Merrill?"

The elf had gone pale, her lips squeezed tightly as she glared at Marethari...who looked back, calm, an eyebrow arched, as if she'd suddenly won some game of wits.

In the silence, Varric could be heard clearing his throat. "Yeah, what's a Varterral...?"

The human and dwarf were ignored though, Merrill narrowing her eyes as she took a shuddering breath. "Very well, Keeper, it shall be done."

Marethari, mouth opened and closed in surprise, took a step back. "Are you...sure, Da'len? I...really?"

"I'm not your Da'len, I'm a grown woman and forge my own path." Merrill snapped, somehow managing to grow an inch as she turned even straighter, chin high. "And yes, I'm sure."

In the distance, at the corner of his eye, Garrett spotted a trio of elves running away, towards Sundermount, bows held tight and arrows in their quivers. And what are you three up to...? "So...Varterral? What is it?"

"Then Mythal go with you..." Marethari bowed low, pain in her eyes as she met Merrill's hostile gaze. "...you'll surely need it."

Squaring her shoulders, only Garrett noticing a slight quaver to them, Merrill nodded and began heading for Sundermount, strides wide, neither looking left or right at her glaring clansmen, nor back, at the group hesitantly following.

As Garrett hurried to follow, he found himself swallowing, a feeling of dread coming over him. I have a bad feeling about this...

"Seriously, what's a Varterral?"

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Thanks to Abydos Jackson for defying biology for me.