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They approached the door of the Hightown mansion Varric's sources had pinpointed as Bartrand's new headquarters in Kirkwall, but something felt off to Hawke. She frowned at the cobwebs and the general appearance of disuse. "Bartrand really hasn't done much with this place, has he? Fenris's mansion is in better repair."

"I don't get it," Varric agreed. "My sources saw people making deliveries here just a week ago. This looks like it's been empty for months."

"Perhaps he put the cobwebs up to discourage tax collectors," Fenris suggested. "I may have to consider that myself."

"Aveline is getting tired of making excuses on your behalf," Hawke reminded him absently, still frowning at the doorway.

Varric sighed. "You're thinking it's a trap, aren't you? Great. It's been ages since my brother tried to kill me."

"It may not be personal," Anders offered.

"Oh, it's personal." Hawke thought of Bethany, and her mother. "It's very personal."

Anders didn't bother to reply, for which she was grateful. She didn't mind him accompanying them on this mission, but she had very little tolerance left for him and his spirit passenger.

Beside her, Varric seemed lost in reverie, and she gently nudged his shoulder. "You all right?"

"What?" He shook his head. "Yeah, just … imagining Bartrand begging me to spare his life."

"Let's turn that into a reality, shall we?" Hawke opened the door, and immediately they were set upon by crazed people in Bartrand's livery, who seemed to want to kill them and drink their blood, or something equally unpleasant.

"What's gone on in here?" Anders looked around at the carnage—not all of it from their battle—in dismay. "This looks—"

"Horrific," Varric finished. "What has my brother done?"

"Varric?" The voice came from inside a cupboard. Varric crossed the room and opened the cupboard doors, revealing a dwarf in Tethras livery.

"Hugin?"

"Oh, Varric, thank the Stone you're here! You have to talk some sense into him."

"What happened here? Was it the idol?" Hawke asked sharply, remembering the effect the idol had created in all of her companions.

"No, not the idol. He got rid of it. But the minute it was gone, he got worse. He—he forced his people to eat lyrium. He cut pieces off them to eat—while they were still alive. He says he's trying to help them hear the song. By the Ancestors, the sounds coming from his study …" Hugin shuddered. "Please, Varric, you have to stop him! He barricaded himself in his study—he hasn't come out for days."

"Hugin, are you sure? Bartrand's not exactly a nice guy, but this doesn't sound like him."

"Does he look like he's making this up?" Hawke put a hand on Varric's shoulder. "Whatever's going on here, we have to find Bartrand and put an end to it."

"Yeah. Right. We'll take care of it," Varric told Hugin. "You just get out of here, get yourself to safety."

"I'm not going to stop running until I'm back in Orzammar."

And he was gone, leaving them looking after him.

Varric was sickened by all of it—the carnage in the house, what Hugin had said … everything. What had that idol done to his brother? "Let's get this over with," he said, and strode off further into the house, not bothering to see if the others were following him.

But of course, they were. Of all the things that had gone wrong in his life, the one thing that was sure and certain was that Hawke was always behind him … except for the times he was behind her.

The door of the study was locked, and it felt as though it was barricaded from the inside as well. Fenris stepped forward, lifting the great blade he carried. "Allow me."

And Varric did. He was saving his strength for his first sight of his brother … and he needed it, too. As soon as the door hung in splinters and the table that had been pushed against it had been knocked over, Bartrand barrelled out of his study with a hammer raised above his head, screaming incoherently. Only a quick sidestep kept Anders from being run over in the process.

"Bartrand, what in the name of Andraste's underthings is going on here?" Varric demanded.

His brother stopped, his head lifting as he recognized Varric's voice. "Varric? Brother? Is that you?" He turned, letting the hammer fall, and rushed to Varric's side, falling to his knees and grasping Varric's coat. "You have to get it back! I can't … I can't hear the song anymore. I just need to hear the song, just for a minute ..." He paused and then cried out, as if someone or something had spoken to him, "Stop saying that! I know I shouldn't have sold the idol to that woman! It was a mistake … a mistake …" He buried his face in his hands and wept, rocking back and forth.

Varric barely even recognized this heap of a man at his feet. His brother had been an unscrupulous bastard, yes, but he'd also been brilliant, coming up with and executing scheme after scheme, keeping their whole empire tidily in his capable hands. Grasping Bartrand by the shoulders, Varric shook him wildly. "Get a hold of yourself! Do you know where you are? Do you know what you've done?"

Bartrand seemed to recognize him. He drew himself up, clinging to Varric's lapels. "Varric, you have to help me … help me find it again. You were always the good one …"

"Help you? You left me to die! And for what, some trinket?"

"Hardly a trinket, if it caused all this," Fenris pointed out.

But Varric was on a roll. He shook Bartrand again, shouting into his face, "Look at yourself! Look at what you've done! Where's your nobility, Brother? Where is your dwarven honor?"

Behind him, he heard Hawke speaking softly. "Anders? Can you do anything?"

The mage shook his head. "This isn't natural. If he wasn't a dwarf, I'd think a demon did this. His mind has been poisoned, by something powerful."

"You would know," Fenris muttered, and Hawke glared at him.

Anders stepped forward. "This is all I can do—it won't last long. I'm sorry." He pointed his staff at Bartrand and a white light leaped from it.

Bartrand's eyes cleared, his body relaxing, and he blinked. "Varric? Oh, Varric, you've come."

"I'm here," Varric said gently.

"What have I done?"

"I don't know. I honestly don't know."

Bartrand held Varric by the shoulders. "Make it stop," he whispered urgently. "Don't let House Tethras fall like this. I know … I know I don't deserve it, but please, Varric—make it stop. Don't leave me like this."

How many times had Varric imagined killing his brother? And now here he was, and Bartrand was begging him to do it, and he knew that he had never meant it, that all he had really wanted was his brother back. "I'll—I'll get you to a healer. You'll be fine!"

"Three years of 'wait till I get my hands on him, I'll kill him', and now you're best buddies?"

Varric turned to Hawke, stricken. She never turned that sharp tongue on him. He tried to remember that Bartrand had harmed her, too. "I can't do this, Hawke. I thought I could, but … How can I do this? Could you? I thought he'd be gloating, with that smug superior smile. I never imagined him like this." To his dismay, his voice cracked. He hadn't been this near tears in a very long time. "That idol did worse to him than I could ever have done."

"You heard Anders," Hawke said inexorably, although her voice was softer. "He's possessed. He's a danger to everyone around him. You can't leave him like this."

She was right. Varric knew she was right. And he knew this was his to do—he couldn't ask her, or the elf, or Blondie, to do it for him.

The light had already faded from Bartrand's eyes again. Varric's brother was gone, in everything but name. Drawing Bianca, Varric took careful aim, trying not to think about what he was doing, and … he ended it.