Wintersend 8

Solas dreamed and as always as he dreamed he dwelled in the Fade. And also as always the Fade was refreshing, pure and whole and so different from the tiresome world of dust and pain and gruesome death he had to face in his waking hours. And then he perceived a disconcerting ripple in the fabric of his peaceful environment.

At first it was but a wisp of a voice, soft as bashful rain on spring leaves.

Then there approached an apparition, vague at the start, but soon shining and bright. An apparition he was very familiar with. He closed his eyes but knew that was a childish thing to do, a human reaction. Perhaps he had already lingered in the outside world for too long.

'There is so much to repair,' the voice said, already stronger than the moment before, cracked and old perhaps but still mighty. 'And I need your help.'

He knew he could not deny although he very much wanted to. 'What do you want from me?'

'At this time just a small favour. Only you know what you may have to pay in the end but this is not the time to discuss that. What I want from you is a diversion, a smoke-curtain if you like. Just a little contribution to a greater action.´

He had agreed. Of course he had agreed. However could he have refused? Choice was a luxury that belonged to another time and he didn't even know whether that time had been happier than this one or just simpler.

He opened his eyes and rose from his plain cot. He had a task to fulfill.

Varric was happily scribbling away in his Hanged Man look-alike room near the Great Hall. Finally there were romantic developments to add some juicy interludes and spice up the till now too serious story. And besides that the sudden appearance of Fenris gave him enough fodder for at least one exciting chapter. The quill hovered over the paper for some moments while he contemplated Hawke's disturbing and rather venomous remark considering the elf directed at the poor bewildered Dorian. (And he was quite certain the Tevinter mage would electrocute him if he in fact would use those expressions to describe his state of mind at that weighty moment). With a reluctant sigh he decided he would leave the considerably unsettling information, or better the not to misunderstand hint she had given, out of his story. To be honest he himself was still upset by what she had blurted out in her anger or annoyance. Or both. No. Better drop that.

The night was passing rapidly and it wouldn't be long before dawn would chase away the dark but he didn't care. Always put art before sleep, was one of his mottos and even had he wanted to, he could impossibly ignore the boost of inspiration that had hit him with a forceful whack. With all the words and sentences tumbling around in his head he wouldn't be able to get some sleep anyhow; he was definitely on a roll. So he frowned when he heard the door open and looked up irritably at the intruder. The frown turned into a surprised expression when he saw Fenris enter his apartment.

'I am sorry,' the elf said, 'but I noticed a light and assumed you were still awake.'

Carefully Varric put his quill back into the inkwell. 'How did you know to find me here?'

'A guard told me this was your room.'

'Ah. And what seems to be the problem? Insomnia? A sudden urge for rare Orlesian cognac? A lover's quarrel perhaps ..?' That last option was uttered with a certain amount of eagerness.

Fenris didn't notice or he pretended not to. 'I was hoping to find Marian here. I don't suppose you've seen her?'

Varric leant back in his chair, resting his elbows on the armrests and steepling his fingers. 'So, a lover's quarrel after all?' He tried not to look too expectantly.

Fenris scowled at him. 'No. On the contrary so wipe that smirk off your face. We had a good talk in fact.'

A log in the hearth broke in two with a spluttering rain of sparks. Varric let one hand fall in his lap and with the fingers of the other drummed a silent rhythm on the tabletop. He tilted his head. He was curious to know how the elf had reacted to the news. 'She told you then.'

'Yes.' The elf rubbed his brow; he didn't seem surprised with Varric's remark. 'Though I'd rather she had told me sooner, preferably back at home. But at least I'm glad she came into the open.'

The dwarf smiled broadly. 'Good. I figure you'll drag her back to Ferelden first thing and get to work.'

A silence fell, full of confusion and question marks and Varric got the nasty suspicion they were talking about completely different things. Nevertheless he firmly ploughed on. 'You know, because time is pressing since she's not getting any younger and, er,' How had Hawke put it again? Ah yes. 'One day soon she may wake up realizing it is too late,' he more or less mangled her desperate words.

Fenris stared blank-faced at him. 'What on earth are you talking about?'

'Andraste's tits!' Varric exclaimed exasperated, 'normally you're not this slow-witted! She wants your child, you dumbass! I thought that was what she had finally made clear!'

The elf sat heavily down in a chair. 'That was not exactly what she made clear, no,' he murmured. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 'I'm afraid this only makes things worse.'

Varric stuck out his chin. He felt irritated and even het up because he absolutely didn't know what the elf was hinting at. He hated any lack of information and thus he lashed out in a rather juvenile way. 'Why? Getting cold feet, having daddy-issues the other way around?' He sounded almost aggressive but he immediately backpedalled when he saw the miserable look in the elf's eyes.

'That doesn't explain why she disappeared,' Fenris said.

'I mentioned that one as well,' Varric agreed, stubbornly clinging on to his own topic, 'I mean that it's very hard to get pregnant when the intended father is not around. Though I must admit she had some kind of reasonable justification for that action; she was too afraid something would happen to you and –'

'I know that and that's not what I meant,' Fenris interrupted him impatiently. He abruptly stood up. 'Since she's not here and you haven't seen her I better go and find her.' He turned on his heels.

Realisation hit and hit hard. 'Elf, wait,' Varric called urgently after him, 'are you trying to tell me Hawke has disappeared again?'

Fenris grimaced at him. 'Talking about being slow-witted. But yes, I'm afraid so.'

Varric pushed his chair backwards and jumped up. 'In that case you'll need help or do you really think you can find her on your own in this maze of a castle? You would sooner get lost than accomplish that. You can update me about what Hawke actually made clear along the way.'

'I'd welcome your assistance,' said Fenris and without waiting for another reaction went for the door. 'And let's just hope she is indeed still somewhere in this fortress, got lost herself.' He knew he only tried to convince himself but honestly he feared the worst.

While he followed the elf out off the room, Varric threw a reluctant glance at his promising work and then shrugged. "Always put art before sleep" might be one of his mottos, "put friends before anything else" was another more important one.

Some time earlier...

Hawke woke with a jolt. In the nightmare that had overwhelmed her she had uttered a bloodcurdling scream but in the real world her throat was screwed shut, she had the feeling she was about to choke. She thought her head would explode; what had once started as a bothersome murmur like an irritating itch she couldn't get rid of, had now become a biting menace. She lay still for long minutes, trying to win back her breath and to regulate her stammering heartbeat. A part of her, the optimistic part, had hoped it wouldn't happen or at least lessen with Fenris close by but of course she should have known better. It had started, and gone worse for that matter, with him around. Partly it was even due to him; not that he was to blame but Corypheus had used him, or better her love for him, to kindle and worsen her fears. So why would it now suddenly stop. She listened to her lover's steady and light breathing but it didn't calm her down.

This had been the worst confrontation thus far.

The total destruction of Thedas was inevitable; it had already started. The wave of devastation had set into motion and was unstoppable like an all-devouring tsunami of fire and desperation. The auxiliary troops that had been on their way to Adamant lay slain in the sand, their lives broken, their siege equipment destroyed. Empress Celine had been assassinated, chaos had broken out in Orlais, blood was already flowing in rivers. The Inquisition had acted too late, too slow, too late.

With a shuddering sigh Hawke slowly sat up, careful not to wake Fenris. There was no need to make him upset. Not yet at any rate. He would burst out in an avalanche of anxiety or would go beyond himself trying to set her mind at ease which would possibly be worse. She had to warn someone though, Leliana probably, or perhaps Cullen. Or the Inquisitor, that would be best. She had come to know the woman as someone who kept calm in difficult and perilous circumstances and didn't hesitate to take decisions. But first she was in dire need of fresh air. She inched out of the bed, moving the mattress as little as she could. Fenris stirred; he mumbled something she didn't understand and with a contented sounding sigh rolled on his other side. Despite everything Hawke couldn't help smiling tenderly. As silent as possible she dressed and sneaked out of the room. The door closed with a soft click behind her.

Outside she leant against the parapet and deeply inhaled the cold night air. The stars twinkled as unperturbed in the sky as they had always done and Hawke began to wonder whether what Corypheus had told and shown her was the truth. Or if he was simply trying to drive her insane. If so he was doing a terrific job. But what had he to gain by that? She was just one woman and not a specifically great threat for his evil plans or did he send those horrifying visions out of revenge? But revenge for what? Freeing him? 'It would certainly be fitting for such a monster to show his gratitude in this way,' she scoffed half loud. 'I need a drink,' she then concluded morosely. The tavern would be closed at this hour of night but there was always one person who'd have a bottle of decent alcohol lying about. He wouldn't mind if she woke him up. And perhaps it was a good idea anyhow to have a serious talk with her favourite dwarf. Feeling slightly better she descended the stairs to the courtyard.

Halfway the deserted space she suddenly discerned a heavy cloaked and hooded figure standing before the large flight of steps that led to the Great Hall. The very moment the person turned to her and removed the hood Hawke took a staggering step back. She stared flabbergasted and with a nasty premonition in a well-known face. 'You!' she gasped, 'what are you doing here?!'

'You will have to conquer you fears; you will all have to conquer your fears otherwise there can be no victory. And you will be their teacher.'

'What do you –' She came no further. There was a flash of bright blinding light and after that darkness.

This felt wrong, the whole environment felt wrong, the very air felt wrong; she didn't have to open her eyes to sense that. And to make things worse something slithered around her. It wasn't evil, she could tell that, but nonetheless she wasn't happy with it because she knew where it belonged.

'You will have to take my place,' a soft voice sounded, 'I have grown too weak.'

Only now Hawke opened her eyes and her bad assumption got cruelly confirmed. It was pointless to start asking questions like "why" and "how" or even "what is the fucking meaning of this" while she couldn't expect any answers. She wanted to scream but it would be to no avail. No-one would hear her, at least no-one who could come to her rescue. She was on her own.

Fenris hadn't taken half a hasty step outside Varric's apartment when he collided with someone else. It was quite an impressive crash since he was at full speed and caught the other person completely unawares. They both tumbled on the floor and the elf reacted on instinct like he would when being attacked. And as always he reacted fast as a snake and with deadly accuracy. Thus, after a few blurry moments, he ended on top, holding the other person's arms above their head in a solid grip with one hand while his free hand hovered over their chest. His markings were bright ablaze.

'Wow! Elf!' Varric shouted panicky somewhere behind his back, 'calm down! He may be Tevinter but he's no Danarius!'

Dorian, after his first shock, stared amused at the flustered face floating somewhere above his. 'Before we move on to the ripping-hearts-out part,' he babbled amicably, 'I should point out that: yes, I am a mage and, guilty as charged from Tevinter but I am not, I repeat and repeat with emphasis, not a Magister.' He smiled charmingly. 'I hope that will soften the other two allegations.'

At first Fenris stared incredulously back but then he had to laugh though it sounded somewhat reluctant and strained. He scrambled back on his feet and helped Dorian to stand. 'That doesn't mean you don't have the arrogant attitude of one,' he said.

With a courteous movement Dorian slightly bowed his head. 'And again I plead guilty. I'm afraid it can't be helped though. Something to do with straight (he winced nearly imperceptible) upbringing and eons of breeding. Hard to shake off. Sorry about that.' There shone a wicked but at the same time pleasant twinkle in his eyes. 'Fenris I assume ..? We met once but I won't take it against you if you don't remember that occasion.'

The elf smiled crookedly. 'I told him once – he hinted with his head at Varric – he was a very odd dwarf. I tell you right now you are an even queerer mage. And that coming from someone more or less married to one, or better and more precise to Marian Hawke, means you are really strange, believe me.'

'I have met your woman,' Dorian smiled back, 'we travelled together. I believe you.'

Fenris squinted. 'I've heard all about it,' he said. Marian's remark about both she and this mage adoring his tight ass sprang into mind. At this moment, facing the very person she had referred to, he didn't know whether he should go on considering that rather funny or getting angry about it. But there was something about this Dorian he couldn't figure out. And then he realised this was the first Tevinter mage he didn't want to rip apart on the spot. It was quite a revelation, even with the knowledge he was a member of House Pavus, the very House Danarius had feared and despised.

'Really?' Dorian reacted guarded, 'even about ..?'

'Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand, Messeres,' Varric interrupted determinedly before something could be said by either men that would make the other one go off. 'You don't know yet, Sparkles, but Hawke has disappeared. Like whisked away off the bed she shared with her elf. Vanished in thin air and all that if you will. We were about to go on a search mission and since we've blundered into each other anyhow, maybe you want to join us? What were you doing up and about at this hour anyway? I thought whole Skyhold were fast asleep.'

Dorian shrugged nonchalantly. 'I think sleep is overrated. You can do so many exciting things instead of sleeping.' He grinned smugly. 'Like you do, I suppose; you weren't sleeping either.'

'No, I was writing a masterpiece,' Varric grumbled glumly, 'before I got interrupted.' He looked at Fenris who pressed his lips.

'Perhaps I should give some more information before we get lost in a wild-goose chase,' he said with a sigh. He suddenly felt very tired. He bit his lip and looked askance and a bit guilty at Varric. 'It's about what Marian really made clear. I reckon it will be vital or at least useful.'

Next time more about Evelyn and Cullen.

Thank you for reading!