Dearest Father,
Varric came to see me this morning. Normally when he visits, it's about someone who needs something here or there. But I knew from the moment he walked into the estate that this was something more. This was personal.
He informed me that the place where we had found his brother was sold to some minor noble from Rivain. This noble claimed the house was haunted, and also claimed Varric was aware of this when the title was exchanged. He was concerned this noble may come after him for a fraudulent sale, or worse, send the Crows after him for revenge. Varric wasn't aware of anything out of the ordinary going on in the home, but he also admitted to me that he hadn't been back there since we found Bartrand. I don't blame him; seeing Carver in that kind of mental state would have been difficult for me as well, and I couldn't imagine returning to a place that held such a memory.
So Varric asked if I would go to the house with him to investigate. "You're a mage, you know something about weird shit," he had said. I could see he was apprehensive about returning, so weird shit or not, of course I was going to help him. Sebastian and Fenris were easy choices to bring along since they were both in Hightown and close to Bartrand's old home.
Walking into the home, at first we didn't see anything strange or out of the ordinary. I let my guard down a little as we moved through the first room; seemed like your typical abandoned house with the musty smell and dust. But when we entered the den, that's when things got a little weird.
"Did that bottle just fall over by itself?" Hawke asked the group after hearing the object clank against the shelf it was laying on.
Varric shrugged. "Could be the wind?" he offered. "What I'd like to know is where that music is coming from."
"What music?" Sebastian asked.
"I don't hear any music," Hawke said. "But Varric, if this place is abandoned, who lit the fire in the fireplace?"
A door slammed shut behind them, and all four jumped. Hawke moved closer to Sebastian, eyes wide as she surveyed the room. "I'm starting to not like this," she whispered to him.
"Something in this house is restless," Fenris stated after another door creaked open. They moved into the left hallway and found a vase floating midair in the center of the alcove. "There is magic at work here."
"This isn't magic," Hawke whispered, trying to ignore the footsteps she heard above them. A cold chill ran through her body, and she grabbed hold of Sebastian's arm to steady herself from the fear that threatened to consume her.
Sebastian took her hand in his, offering a gentle squeeze as he silently prayed to the Maker to watch over them. They continued on through the home, and the further in they went, the more weird things became. The library was astrewn with books all over the floor. A chair lifted off the ground and attached itself to the ceiling. The portraits of people on the wall seemed to follow their every move. Torches were lit, doors opened and shut on their own, as if something in the home were leading them in whatever direction it chose for them.
"Where is that voice coming from?" Varric wondered aloud. "I can barely hear it, can't make out the words…"
Hawke looked up at Sebastian with concern. His gaze was on Varric, studying the dwarf and his odd behavior. No one else had heard any voice or song except for him.
"The disturbances are getting stronger," Fenris said as he felt the air become heavier on his lungs.
"We're getting close," Varric said.
"Close to what?" Hawke asked, uncertain if she truly wanted to know the answer.
They ended up in the last room at the end of the hall, and for a brief moment all disturbances seemed to stop. "This is Bartrand's junk," Varric informed them, looking around the room at the scattered boxes and pictures. "I can't believe he saved all of this, and that it's still here."
"Anything important?" Hawke asked, thankful to feel a bit of calm once again. She released her hold on Sebastian and began going through the boxes with Varric.
"Momentos mostly," Varric replied. "Stuff from Orzammar and the estate there. You wouldn't know it, but Bartrand was a sentimentalist."
"He missed home," Hawke said, knowing the feeling.
Varric nodded. "Yeah. If my brother could do it all again, I don't think he'd ever come to the surface. Being from Orzammar meant something to him, and he hung on to all this junk as a way to remember it I suppose."
"Has there been any change?" Hawke asked.
"To Bartrand? No," Varric told her. "He's still in the sanitarium, still insisting that he needs to hear the song again, whatever that is. I get reports every week on the progress he isn't making. Sometimes I wonder if we should've just put him out of his misery."
"I'm sorry Varric," Hawke said. "I know this hasn't been easy for you."
Varric shrugged. "When has anything ever been easy? Come on, let's keep moving. I'd like to find out what's going on here and then get out as quickly as possible."
We continued going through the home. Doors that were previously locked were now open, rooms we had already checked had their doors slammed shut as we walked past. At one point we even saw an apparition of a woman being chased by a man. We walked through the library again and the books put themselves back on the shelves. These are the things you hear in stories Father, the ones people tell around campfires to try and frighten friends. Only we were witnessing it, it was real.
At one point I had considered that maybe it was just someone playing harmless pranks on us to get us to leave. Someone, or a group of people, who took refuge in the home and wished to remain, so they tricked anyone that came into thinking the place was haunted. Looking back, at first it was all creepy noises and objects moving, but it was all harmless.
Until a vase came flying through the air and nearly hit us.
We started to run, trying to find out way out, but whatever was in the home wasn't going to allow us to leave. All the doors were locked now except for one, which led to grand room where we had previously fought Bartrand. Books, buckets, vases were in midair circling above us. A loud moan came from upstairs, and although all we wanted to do was leave, we knew whatever it was had to be dealt with. Varric insisted that it must be the idol, that had to be in the home and was somehow causing this chaos. So we began to look for it.
While searching the bedrooms upstairs, we found a woman hiding in the master bedroom. Varric confronted her about what she was doing there, insisting that she must have the idol and was causing this chaos. I had never seen Varric like that before; he was so angry, nearly assaulted the poor woman, when it was clear she was just as frightened as we were. She kept telling us we had to get out before it came back, whatever it was, but Varric ignored her pleas and repeatedly asked her where the idol was. I began to suspect that Varric was correct; the idol was still in the house, and whatever effect it had on Bartrand, it was starting to effect Varric too.
The house began to shake and the woman screamed, saying that it was starting again. She ran past us and we followed, only to watch her fall to her death from top of the stairs to the grand room below. That's also where we saw a very large, red, ethereal golem. It attacked us immediately, and we had to fight it along with several shades it had summoned. The more damage we did to the golem, the brighter a red glow radiated from it, and when we finally managed to destroy it, all that remained was a piece of the red idol we had found in the Deep Roads.
Varric thought we could do some great things with the shard we found, but I just wanted it gone. I told him about how he had been acting very strangely since we arrived at the house, and my suspicions about it being because of the idol. He looked at the shard in his hand, and begged me to let him keep it. Not in a crazy confrontational way like he was with that poor woman, but in a sincere, back to his old self way. When he explained to me that this shard could possibly lead to a cure for Bartrand, a way to set things right again, I had a hard time arguing with him.
Could it cure Bartrand? Or would it consume Varric as it had his brother? Again my thoughts went to Carver; if something like this had happened to him, an illness caused by an object, the first logical step would be to study that object if one wanted to find a cure. If anyone had the connections to do such a thing, it would be Varric. The dwarves handle lyrium on a daily basis; they could study it, and perhaps save Bartrand. I asked Varric if he was still hearing a song or whispers, and he said no. It's possible the ethereal energy from the golem was amplifying the power of the shard, and once destroyed, the shard returned to some dormant state.
So I let Varric keep the piece of idol, only if he promised to do whatever was necessary to protect himself from its side-effects. Fenris growled his disapproval but said nothing further. Sebastian, however, had plenty to say on the walk home.
"You're not telling your father of our argument, are you?" Sebastian asked, looking over Hawke's shoulder as she sat at her desk in the Amell Estate, writing to Malcolm.
Hawke laughed. "It wasn't an argument, it was a slight disagreement. And besides, what does it matter if I do tell him? It's not like he'll scold you or anything."
"I don't know," Sebastian admitted. "I suppose I would hope to have earned the respect of your father since you admire him so. Maker knows I never had that with my own."
Hawke turned in her chair to look up at him. "Your father would be proud of the man you have become Sebastian," she assured him. "And I know my father would have loved and respected you."
Sebastian smiled and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Thank you. Though I know my actions of the past have not always been the wisest of decisions, I hope to continue to toward a better path they both can be proud of."
"You will," Hawke assured him.
"With you by my side, I've no doubt of that," he told her. "Are you almost ready to turn in for the night?"
"I am," she said. She added one last line to her letter before she stood, folded the parchment, and placed it in the fireplace. Sebastian remained with her as they watched it burn, a moment he knew he was privileged to witness as it was a private ritual she usually kept to herself. Once the parchment was nothing but ash dancing in the flames, she turned to him once more. "Are you sure you're comfortable staying here tonight? You don't have to, you know."
"It is not a matter of being uncomfortable Marian," he told her. "Merely a challenge, one I will endure willingly to ensure you feel safe."
"A challenge?" she raised a brow. "To spend the night sleeping on the couch in my bedroom?"
Sebastian smiled. "A test of wills, to be alone with you and not give in to every temptation my body wishes to."
Hawke felt her cheeks burn. "Know that it is appreciated, and that you are not alone in your test of wills," she admitted. "But after spending the night in a creepy haunted mansion, the thought of being alone in my bedroom is enough to ensure nightmares."
"It is no trouble," Sebastian assured her. He brushed her lips with his, a soft chaste kiss, then gestured toward the stairs. "Get yourself settled, and I'll be up in a moment."
He watched as she ascended the staircase, then turned toward the glowing fire. "I will not take advantage of your daughter, Messere Hawke," he whispered. "I shall respect her, you, and this home, you have my word." The flames crackled as if in response, and Sebastian took it as a sign that he did indeed have Malcolm's approval to watch over and protect his daughter.
Even so, after she called to him that it was safe to come up, every step to her bedroom was difficult. More times than he cared to admit, Sebastian had imagined a moment like this; walking up the stairs to her bedroom, seeing her laying in bed, waiting for him, and he'd finally be able to show her just how much she meant to him. But tonight was not the night for such fantasies to play out. He was there only to protect her and have her feel safe.
Soon, he vowed to himself. Soon.