Taking a deep breath, Varric took in the scene and, not for the first time, wondered if it could get any more depressing.

It had been but a day, just enough time to set up the funeral that would be held in a few hours- Something Varric had found himself doing alone as Garrett had, for once, been incapable of doing his job.

Garrett had at least finally shed his armour and was now, after much coaxing from Varric, dressed in the proper black clothes of mourning. Not that the clothes were necessary to tell that the man was mourning the death of his mother.

He was sitting on his bed, arms hanging limply by his sides, staring at the floor with an empty look in his eyes that hadn't even seemed to notice Varric's entering a few minutes ago. His eyes were rimmed red from tears that by now had stopped falling, his eyes now holding an eerie emptiness, all plans and turning wheels behind his hard eyes blown away, replaced by disbelief and apathy.

The room looked just like it had at the moment of the attack, or so the ruffled bed with the cover still thrown off suggested, for Varric doubted the man had slept for even a second since it had all happened. By the foot of the bed, on the floor, Merrill's and Garrett's wedding clothes still lay, intertwined like lovers. The elf herself was sitting behind Garrett, on the bed and on her knees, looking guilty and in pain as her hand constantly moved up to the man's shoulder, only to drop before she'd actually touch him.

Hmmm...

Varric had picked up a lot of what had happened from the servants and soldiers, not to mention Aveline who'd been too furious to hold back the results of her investigation of the assault on the De Launcet mansion. Yet for all that, he'd heard not a word about Merrill, not of what she'd been doing the entire time, or if she'd even been there.

What have you been doing, Daisy? Noticing his inquisitive look, Merrill flinched and looked away. Damn, that's not a good sign. Frowning, Varric moved a little closer to the couple, eyes on Garrett. "The funeral's still a few hours away, mate. Maybe go to the kitchen and have something to eat? Maric's down there, somewhere..." Of all the days to have the dog off hunting with Donnic...yes, it's about giving the newly-weds privacy, but he would have noticed the danger before anyone else...where is he anyway?! He should be here. "...and you look a little pale."

"Of course I do." Garrett replied, tone curt and dull.

Well...at least he answered. Varric cocked his head to the side and sighed. "She was a fine lady..." Garrett's hands twitched at the 'was', but otherwise there was no reaction. "...and deserved better than what she got." Garrett's neck bulged, the man biting down, clenching his teeth. Varric, unsure, spoke softly. "But it's not your fault what happened."

For a moment, every muscle in Garrett's body seemed to tense, the man about to spring up and...Varric wasn't sure what he would do, but nothing good. But then the man simply relaxed, his head dropping lower between his shoulders as he let out a shuddering breath. A low mutter escaped him, but what of, Varric couldn't tell.

Whatever it was, it made Merrill grimace though. "Ma Vhenan..." Her voice was but a whisper. "...you couldn't have saved her..." Finally, she put a hand on the man's shoulder, hesitant smile on her lips, gently trying to soothe the man.

Garrett's reply was a dully voiced question. "And where were you?"

Merrill's smile disappeared, eyes widening.

Watching with a lump in his throat, Varric heard Garrett speak, voice still empty and seemingly emotionless. "Our wedding night and I find you gone, where were you? Why weren't you around to help?"

Merrill blinked and swallowed, her hand letting go of Garrett's shoulder.

"Where were you?" Garrett raised his head, eyes bitter, looking straight at the wall in front of him.

Behind him, Merrill inched backwards, hands in front of her mouth, tears suddenly running down her cheeks.

Oh no, not back at the Alienage with the mirror... Varric quickly spoke up. "Hey, buddy, why don't-"

"You weren't on the estate, so where else?" Suddenly, Garrett turned, a slow and deliberate movement as he looked at Merrill, eyes cold. "Where else could you have gone?"

Merrill, shaking her head, sobbed, her words little gasps. "L-love, I..."

"In the Alienage." Garrett answered his own question. "With your mirror..." The last word came out like a hiss as Garrett took a deep breath. "...weren't you?"

"Ma Vhen-"

"Weren't you?" Garrett was visibly trembling, but his gaze was steady, boring into Merrill as she kept inching back on the bed, still shaking her head in denial as tears of guilt ran down her face. "With the mirror containing Dhavine?"

Varric, hesitating, raised a hand. "Maybe we should all take a deep-"

"Dhavine that controlled De Launcet like a puppet?" Garrett rose to his feet, turning to face the trembling elf, eyes hard. "Who convinced him to slit her throat?"

Merrill was shaking, looking at him in disbelief. "I...I didn't n-notice an-anything, sh-she d-didn't-"

"Who killed my mother!?" The sudden shout made Merrill and Varric both jump back, watching with wide eyes as Garrett's face turned red. "You were chatting with the demon even as she killed my mother!?"

Varric was suddenly moving, hand pressing into Garrett's chest...who pressed back, hard, nearly bowling the dwarf over. Maker!

"Did you cause this!? Do you even know!?" Garrett's eyes were like fire, terrifying enough to make Varric question standing before him, even if it was to protect the elf from her enraged husband. "Are you the reason she's dead!?"

"No!" Merrill was retreating to the far end of the bed, pulling the cover with her like a shield, shaking her head and looking away even as she pulled the sheet in front of her face, a hint of hysteria in her voice. "No! No! No! No! No! No! No!"

"Garrett, please-"

"No, Varric!" Garrett didn't even give the dwarf a look as he glared at his wife, pressing into Varric's hand to the point that the dwarf had to put both hands on the human and push back with all his might. "I want to hear her answer! I want to hear my fucking wife tell me she didn't have something to do with the death of my mother!"

Silence.

All but Merrill's sobbing, punctuated by whimpering denials escaping her cover.

Then, a slam of a door crashing open in the distance, swiftly followed by another.

Varric turned his head in a frown, just about able to hear the scratching of steel against stone, the sound of many footsteps.

Looking up, he found Garrett not moving one inch though, his eyes on Merrill, hiding under her cover. His face was no longer red, but a sickly pale, eyes like hard bronze daggers, pointed at her.

Maker, he looks ready to kill her...

It was hard for Varric to wrap his head around, yet at the same time not.

Those we love hurt us the most...

Then there was another crashing sound, this time accompanied by a shout and a cry of pain.

Garrett remained still, a vein in his neck throbbing with alarming speed.

Then he turned with a snarl of disgust and marched away.

The slam when he closed the door made the entire room shake.

Varric found himself breathing out the air he hadn't known he was holding and slowly lowered his hands, surprised to find them trembling. Maker, that was too close. Varric slowly lowered his shoulders and turned, looking at the whimpering shape under the cover at the other end of the bed. Oh Daisy... Wincing, he reached out-

"I'd...I'd like to be alone right now, Varric." The whimper, full of pain and guilt, stopped hishand. But you're all... Varric hesitated, hand still ready to move to comfort. ...and if Garrett's right? He lowered it. "Th-thank you..."

Throwing a last look at the elf, hidden under the covers, Varric grimaced and turned away, knowing there was nothing to do. This is painful...too painful, wedding was so lovely and now...Maker, the luck of the Hawkes is cursed. He managed a pained shrug. I'll just...be there for them both. "You know where to find me if you want to talk."

With that offer, he left the elf to her pain.

Outside, he found Fenn, the servant, running by, clutching a bruised cheek as with narrowed eyes he rushed past with barely a nod in the dwarf's direction. What the...?

Varric, turning, ran the way the elf had come from.

He didn't have to go far. Soon, he was in the main ballroom of the estate, the corridor ending at the balcony overlooking the large floor beneath.

Garrett was standing just at the end of it, where he'd once stood while meeting with his rebellious nobles. He was leaning on the balustrade with hands gripping it so tight they'd turned as pale as the marble underneath, yet for his foreboding appearance, he remained silent, his dark clothes and expression making him seem a raven, brooding down at those beneath.

Stepping closer, Varric caught himself gasping at the sight.

There were two dozen templars, fully armed and armoured, in the room beneath. Several of them had some of the servants of the house pressed up against the walls, weapons drawn and their voices hard and demanding when booming from their helmets.

At the centre, however, stood three all too distinct figures over a single huddled one.

Meredith was standing tall, scowling down at Orana, the elf servant was – in contrast to Fenn – unharmed, yet looked more beaten than him, the submissive look of a beaten slave on her face as she sat and stared at the floor.

Crouching next to his commander, Cullen looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he currently was even as he spoke to Orana with what seemed to be soft words. The good guard, bad guard routine? That's a little cliché. Despite the thought, Varric found nothing amusing with the sight, instead he felt his trigger-finger itch. This is wrong, hasn't she been through enough? Haven't we all?

The only one who seemed to have noticed Garrett was Carver. The man was standing on Meredith's other side, armour shining in the lamplight, cloak of purple hanging from his shoulders, looking every inch a templar, champion and knight. He wore an expression of grim hostility on his face though, eyes hard blue orbs – different, yet terribly alike his brother's – that were fixed on the man looking down at the scene playing out before him.

Cocking his head to the side, Varric followed Carver's gaze.

Oh dear.

Garrett's face was silent fury, a mad light in his eyes, his entire face speaking of tension ready to snap, wanting to snap.

He didn't wait for an excuse.

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"

The shout, carried by the man's position in the room, boomed across the walls, freezing everyone in place.

Everyone but Meredith, the woman coldly looking up at Garrett and taking a step forward. "Garrett Hawke, by the authority vested in me by the Chantry and the Maker, I hereby hold you under arrest, to have yourself and all who know you questioned, to have clerks read through all-"

"GET OUT!"

Meredith frowned at the blunt order, almost looking confused. "I will not."

Cullen, rising to his feet, grimaced as he spoke. "My apologies, Serah, but the Templar order has been notified of the recent fighting in the De Launcet estate, one culminating in, as witnesses say, in 'fire and brimstone'. Many templars in the area also sensed much magic and noticeable blood-magic and demon-summoning going on. There's already been confirmations that your mother was attacked and killed by a blood-mage too."

"And corruption spreads." Meredith coolly finished, eyes steady as she held Garrett's gaze.

"What my commander is saying is that the veracity of these claims must be ascertained and that you and your household must be checked for demon-corruption and magic." Cullen quickly spoke, then continued hastily, looking nervous as his gaze danced between Garrett and Meredith. "Plus, investigations launched by Templar officials..." Cullen's gaze guiltily darted to the glaring Carver, though Garrett didn't seem to notice. "...has revealed small pieces of evidence as well as testimonies from various individuals that you might have ties with the man known as the Warden-Apostate, who is openly attacking the order in this city."

Meredith, surprisingly, didn't look pleased or victorious after Cullen's words. Instead she reminded Varric of Aveline, stern, unflinching of the danger she might be in and ready to do her duty. "You will come with us, as will all in the estate."

Silence.

Garrett took a deep breath.

Then closed his eyes, taking another.

When he opened them, they were still full of fury, but his tone was calmer, harder. "No."

Meredith's tone was as hard, unbending. "You must. It's the Chantry's law, and you will obey it."

"Yet you will not take me." Garrett straightened, a haughty look on his face. "Nor any of my fellow nobles or those under my protection. They will not be questioned, they will not be harassed, they will be left alone."

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, then Cullen, looking worried, tried to speak. "Perhaps we should all-"

Carver was faster, his growl laced with disgust. "You are not to decide that. You've reminded Meredith again and again that secular law is not hers to enforce, spiritual law, however, is."

"Irrelevant." Garrett snapped back. From his angle, Varric could see the man's legs shake, though if it was from fear or anger, the dwarf couldn't tell. His tone, however, made no question as to what he felt. "You will turn away and leave my home this moment."

"Or what?" Carver interrupted with a snort, eyes narrowing as he inched closer to Meredith; rallying to his leader, ready to rush into a breach.

The crash of every door in the large room opening was nearly deafening.

Staring in shock, Varric watched as the floor where the templars stood was flooded by Garrett's guards. Halberds, swords and spears, lowered and ready, forced the stunned templars back and away from the servants they'd questioned. Rushing past Varric, moving to the flanks of Garrett, steadying themselves against the balustrade, more of them appeared and lowered loaded crossbows at the templars below.

You have to...I...

Varric, despite thinking himself as a man able to think on the fly and take things as they came, found himself lost for words.

What...?

Below, Cullen looked as shocked as Varric felt, and afraid. Carver, eyes wide, looked around himself in disbelief. As did most of the other templars, men and women not ever having been at the wrong end of a blade finding themselves surrounded by grim-looking warriors seemingly ready to die and kill on their lord's order.

The only one not reacting to the horde of armed warriors was Meredith, the woman's eyes hard as they held Garrett's gaze.

Garrett's reply was cold. "Or you'll be escorted out."

For the longest time, nothing happened.

Meredith and Garrett simply standing there, scowling at one another, the tension thick, between them as well as in the room.

Slowly, both began to narrow their eyes, making Varric swallow.

Then Cullen cleared his throat. "I...threatening someone with weapons is a secular crime and-"

"And I'm sure my Magisters will find me guilty of protecting my home." Garrett snorted, not taking his eyes off Meredith for even a second. "Please, don't make me laugh."

Cullen's words had ended the silence though, and Meredith was quick to continue. "You think you can do this? You think you can defeat the righteous?"

"I have crossbows that say..." Garrett nodded to his men at the balcony, and all turned their quarrels at the Knight-Commander, though some with eyes wide with fright. "...I can. So do as I say, and leave my estate."

"And when I do..." Meredith took a step forward, posture tense, unafraid, enraged even as her words were cold as ice. "...I'll return with such a force of templars, the likes of which you've never seen."

Garrett's lips twitched, though Varric was hesitant to call it a smile. "And if you do that, I'll unleash my magic upon you, the likes of which you've never seen."

At Meredith's back, Carver tilted his head to the side, his angry look mixing with one of confusion. Cullen was even scratching his head at it.

Meredith, however, only glared back, her voice a low growl. "You admit to being an apostate now...?"

"Maker, you're dense..." Garrett's sigh was also a growl, one of barely restrained anger. "My magic, Commander, is quite mundane..."

Maker...this is insane.

Varric, feeling like he was seeing a historic moment, watched Garrett turn and slowly walk down the stairs towards the main floor. "If but one noble, or person under my protection, is touched by you or your henchmen...then all nobles will leave the city." Meredith frowned. "You're confused? Think this not a threat? Let me rephrase it then. I'll leave you not poor, but destitute, your taxes and tolls from traders coming to nothing. I'll leave you in a city rampant with crime, the guard gone. I'll leave you starving, all food gone from the markets. I'll leave you ankle deep in shit, the maintenance of the streets gone."

Meredith frowned at the man, the cogs in her mind moving slower than his, but with a terrifying finality to them.

While he was moving down, Garrett's voice, still a low growl, droned on. "I'll leave you losing templars every day, first some being picked off by criminals whenever they enter a dark alley. Then, to citizen's demanding first a job, then food...I'll leave you under siege by a nameless horde." He shook his head, still moving down like he had all the time in the world. "Then, I'll leave you alone. As all things run out, as the city crumples, the hordes will leave, as will your templars and mages, driven away by the need to eat and to live in a society...leaving you."

Meredith's eyes were narrow slits, as were Garrett's as he reached the main floor, stepping close to her without a hint of hesitation.

So close they were nearly touching, the two glared at one another as Garrett continued. "Alone, in a husk of a city, having failed at everything you had sworn to do."

One would have heard a pin drop after the man's words.

Somehow, Garrett managed to move even closer, voice cold. "Get. Out."

Meredith, however, stood firm, eyes as cold as Garrett's voice, taking the measure of the man.

He didn't look away.

Varric, swallowing, found himself watching for a sign of the woman drawing a dagger or for someone near her to try something.

Yet nothing happened.

With a grunt, the cogs in Meredith's mind stopped, making her press her lips together in a thin line, eyes flashing with something. Not quite rage, nor hatred, but something even more dangerous.

She didn't say anything.

Instead she turned on her heel and marched towards the exit as if it had been her intention all along, her more hesitant templars following.

Cullen was among the last to leave, his gaze sweeping over Garrett and his many soldiers, not in fear any more, but in worry. He threw Garrett a last look, one trying to share some of that worry, but the man was only looking back with a grim look on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

Then, only Carver remained.

He was glaring at Garrett, a scathing look full of hate and disgust that Varric had a hard time coming to terms with, considering the two men's kinship. Even I and my brother were better than these two...

Yet despite seeing such a spiteful look, Garrett remained stoic, a calm seemingly having befallen him, making him meet his brother's every silent accusation and scorn with emptiness.

Finally, after a long moment of simply staring, Carver spoke, tone bereft of all the rage in his eyes, of all emotions, it was a statement of fact.

"You're now without a family."

With that, Carver too turned and marched away, not looking back.

Behind him, Garrett lowered his head, his defiant posture deflating like a sack.

Surrounded by his troops, the man looked very alone.

8

8

8

Thanks to Abydos Jackson for all the thrashings.