I picked at my dirty nails, doing my best to ignore the shouting coming through the door beside me. On the other side of the room Merrill was playing with a ball of yarn, bouncing it off her palm and then the back of her hand in an endless repetition.

"We're going and that's final! This is our chance!"

"To do what?" Varric shouted back, "Maker's balls, we're already the richest family in Kirkwall. I'm running out of things to invest in!"

"You've got no vision brother. I've got a map, a key, and a door that only we deserve to open. We're leaving in three weeks."

Angry footsteps were followed by Varric slamming the door open, stomping out of Bartrand's office. Merrill nervously caught her ball, quickly sliding it into a pocket while I simply pushed off from the wall I'd been leaning against. We both fell into step behind him like good little bodyguards, though I was the only one who looked back over my shoulder as we left.

Bartrand was completely ignoring us, staring down at papers on his desk, an unpleasant smile on his lips.

I idly wondered if he was already plotting to murder his brother, even as I tried to think of the best way to murder him before he could.

The three of us stayed silent as we walked through the dusty opulence of the Tethras family estate; Bartrand had fired half his staff last month for costing him too much money, and the remainder couldn't keep up with the cleaning.

Outside the dark skies warned us that rain was coming, and only under the clouds did we speed up to walk beside him.

"So." I offered. "That sounded like it went well."

"...how much did you hear?"

"Most of it." I shrugged, resting a hand on my sword's hilt as we made for the Dwarven Enclave's exit. "We've got better hearing than you to begin with, and you both started bellowing pretty quickly."

Merrill nodded in agreement. "I think it started when he called you a brain-dead nug. I heard everything after that."

He grunted, scowling ahead of us. "I don't know what happened to him. He's always been an annoying pain in the ass, but he used to... I don't know. Make sense. He made us the richest bachelors in the city, hosting parties for the entire Guild every couple of weeks. Now..."

"He forgot his fiancee even exists," I dropped my voice, trying to imitate his lower tones. This was a rant I'd heard more than once. "All he cares about his making more gold. And he doesn't even do anything with it! I'm stuck investing in tailors!"

Varric snorted, "First of all, I don't sound like that. Daisy does a much better impression."

Seeing my sly grin, Merrill giggled and took the queue to drop her own voice before he could go on. "No shit. There I was, surrounded by bad choices, trying to decide which nug wrangler to invest in."

I snickered, "That is better than mine."

"You have to pretend to have rocks in your throat" She said. "And hair on your chest, though I don't really know why that helps."

"Whatever works, Daisy." Varric shook his head, but he was grinning as he did. "Anyway. Point is that I'm not at the point where I've got to invest in nug wranglers just yet. Or tailors."

"Won't be long." I predicted. "Have you thought about my idea?"

"I really don't want to start a sewer and waste business, Buzz. Really doesn't add much mystique to the Tethras name. Or much profit."

"I don't want to get into that business either, but I'm sick of pissing into buckets." God knew that I was utterly sick of that. I'd tolerated it when I'd hoped that I'd be able to convince Mythal-Flemeth to send me home, but now that I'd accepted that wasn't happening... I was not going the next decade without a proper bathroom in my house.

"Buckets, Varric. Promise me you'll think about it if I actually go into those blighted tunnels with you."

He groaned, throwing his hands up. "Fine, fine. I'll think about it. You are coming with then?"

"Can't let my boss go down there alone."

"I'm hardly your boss these days." He countered. "You run more of the capers than I do, and you haven't needed money since the Chantry actually paid out the shares from the Amell estate."

That was true. I hadn't expected a mansion in Hightown to be cheap, but holy fuck. Even the third that Gamlen had set aside in thanks for being rescued had turned out to be a lot of money. Between my share of that cut, what I'd already had in Varric's accounts, and what we'd found in the estate's vault... I was sitting on more than ninety sovereign. Ninety sovereign steadily accumulating more silver thanks to Varric's studious investments in various profitable businesses.

I was the wealthiest elf in the city and it wasn't close.

Sadly the 'elf' part really but a damper on the 'wealthiest' part. There was very little I could actually do with the money that wouldn't draw even more unpleasant attention on me. Or, given how tense things were in Lowtown, the Alienage in general.

I'd done a few little things. Bought a stockpile of potions, a replacement sword, and better armor for myself and Merrill. Sadly bigger improvements to my home would require far more work and resources, stuff that would be easily noticed by the Humans outside who were just waiting for another excuse to riot and attack us.

Proof that elves were living better than they were would certainly do that. Doubly so as I was apparently becoming the face of the Alienage, as far as the rest of the city was concerned. It was getting more tempting by the day to shave my head completely just to avoid being so easily recognizable by people who didn't know my face.

"Three weeks to get our affairs in order then." I spoke up as we left the Enclave, returning to the quiet streets of Hightown. Everyone seemed to be hurrying along, trying to get their business done before the rain began. "Who are we bringing with?"

Merrill immediately cleared her throat, giving me a suspicious look.

"Yes, you're coming with. I thought it went without saying."

She beamed, mollified. "I've never been in the Deep Roads. It will be fun! Apart from the Darkspawn, I suppose. I've seen enough of those."

"We'll have to hope Bartrand's right, and they're all in Ferelden." Varric grumbled. "Buzz, you think we could get Blondie out of his clinic for a month or two? If there are Darkspawn down there, we'll need a dedicated healer."

I felt my lips twist. Anders claims to not being a Gray Warden meant he wouldn't be nearly as useful down there, but that didn't change the fact that he was the only magical healer we knew. "I seriously doubt it, but Merrill and I can go down and ask tomorrow. Maybe he'll accept a nice investment in his clinic, get it cleaned up a bit. I'll promise him whatever I can to get him to come with."

"Just make sure it's within reason." He glanced down a side-street that contained a certain decrepit mansion. "Broody?"

I snorted. "You want Fenris along with Merrill, Anders, and me? He'll have a paranoid meltdown in the first day."

"Point. Rivaini then."

"You think we can get her into the tunnels?" I asked, making sure he heard my doubt. "She's not really the kind of girl who'd enjoy cave-diving with Darkspawn."

"No, but she does like treasure. No idea what she does with it all, but she likes it."

My free hand immediately rose. "Don't look at me. She hasn't told me what she's still doing here either. All I know is that she won't go anywhere near the docks, no matter what you try and bribe her with."

That was a blatant lie, but not one that he'd ever expect or be able to call me on. The fun of knowing things it was literally impossible for me to know.

He grunted, then glanced to Merrill who shrugged. "She misses her ship, and sailing. Oh, and she's going to teach me how to strut next week. And something called body shots?"

Varric stumbled while I choked, "No!"

"She really does miss her ship!"

"Not that," I cleared my throat, "She's not teaching you body shots."

"Ohhh... why not? It's something dirty, isn't it? Now I really want to know!"

I groaned, "I'm not emotionally ready to see you doing that. I don't think I'll ever be."

Her face started to pull into her deadly pout, and I immediately looked away before I could fall victim to its effects. "Maeve!"

"So, Varric." I said loudly, ignoring her cute little huff of frustration. "Anyone else we can bring with?"

"From our crew? I don't think so." His pace picked up when the first raindrop fell, all three of us hurrying a bit toward the stairs toward Lowtown. "Thrask and Brennan have full time jobs, no way they'd be able to be gone that long. How about anyone from your Night's Watch?"

"Elowen would volunteer if we asked her," I admitted, "She always needs extra money to help feed her kids. So would a few others, but I don't like the idea of weakening them right now. It's just a matter of time before another mob forms up outside the walls."

"Point. The five of us then... dammit. I don't like those numbers. I'm going to ask Broody."

Merrill and I both grimaced.

Fenris was... mercurial, seemed to be the only way to describe it. Or maybe bi-polar. On his good days, he was able to temporarily forget that we were mages. He'd show up to card nights, join me in teasing Isabella, and generally be a decent if quiet member of the group. He'd even flirted with me once, before remembering I was a mage and looking nauseated at what he'd just said.

But on his bad days...

...well, on his bad days he was incapable of shutting up about the fact that Merrill and I had magic. Or that Anders did, once Anders started joining us to relax one or twice a week. I don't think he'd realized Merrill was a blood mage just yet, she was doing a much better job of keeping that quiet compared to the game, but I was dreading the moment when he realized it. That explosion wouldn't be pretty.

And on a trip like the one we were planning, it would be hard to constantly keep Merrill's arms covered up.

"I know, I know." He groaned, clearly noticing the way we'd both gone silent as we jogged down the stairs. "But he's the best fighter we've got even without his spooky lyrium powers. We'll need him."

"...you're the boss." I said, "Your call."

He grumbled. "I keep trying to make you the boss. I hate making these decisions when it comes to friends."

"I hate them as much as you do." I countered. "Why do you think I keep ignoring you when you try?"

Merrill giggled at us, good humor restored as quickly as ever. "Maybe we should follow Isabella? She's a Captain after all."

Varric barked out a laugh. "All of us following Rivaini? I can't decide if that's the best or the worst idea I've ever heard. She'd have us ruling the city or run out of town by an angry mob within a month. Maybe both if we gave her two months."

"Probably." I paused, smiling. "Whatever happened would probably be fun though. I always wanted to be a pirate when I was a kid."

"...it would be fun." Varric admitted "But I'm not ready to leave my life as a gentleman of leisure for life as a pirate. Boats disagree with me. Sorry Buzz, but you're our only option."

"I'll take the role when the job's my idea, but this is your brother's mess. That makes it your job. Suck it up, oh fearless leader."

He groaned, then groaned more loudly when the rain began to seriously fall. We abandoned talking in favor of getting up to a run, bolting for the shelter of the Alienage. It wasn't a very long run from the stairs we'd used, but the sky fully opened up before we were halfway there.

"I've got to talk to Thrask!" Varric shouted when we neared the Guardhouse outside. "See you both tonight! Or tomorrow if this doesn't let up!"

I waved at him, Merrill and I running past Thrask and Emeric's home to rush down into the Alienage proper. Water and mud splashed as we bolted for my house, my soaking fingers working the lock to get us inside.

"Elgar'nan..." She groaned once we were inside, the heavy door shut again. "...I miss just using a barrier to stay dry."

"Me too." I admitted, kicking my mud covered boots off as quickly as I could. "Ugh. At least we can use those when we're out of the city."

"I suppose." Merrill sighed, reaching down to pull her own dirty foot-wraps off. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry."

"A bit, yeah. "I glanced at the fireplace, waving a hand and muttering my little ignition spell. Merrill was doing her best to break me out of the habit of using words like that, she said it was something only children did to help control things, but it was still easier for me.

"Let's get dry, then warm up some bread." I suggested, "I'll help chop some things up for a stew for dinner after."

She nodded, both of us already stripping out soaked armor and clothing off, setting it around the slowly building fire to dry. I was grateful that modesty wasn't really a big thing for her, or the Dalish in general from what she'd told me. We didn't strip naked in front of each other or anything, but Merrill didn't get embarrassed or stare at me when I tossed my soaked shirt aside, leaving me with just the wraps holding my small breasts in place.

"This rainy season can be done anytime now." I groused.

"It is rather gray out." She agreed, her own soaked shirt coming up and over her head, her nose wrinkling a little as she laid it out next to the fireplace. "I think we both smell. Maybe we should go to that river outside of the city tomorrow."

I grimaced at the reminder of the other thing I badly missed from home; real baths. Padding myself down with wet cloth was about the best I got, except for when we slipped outside of the city. Or that glorious few weeks that Bartrand had been out of the city, and Varric had let me use the heated tubs in their estate.

"A bath would be nice." I peeled my leather leggings off, keeping the pants on. Pulling a chair over a little, I collapsed onto it, legs stretched out toward the growing flame. "How about magic practice in the morning, a bath in the river, then we'll pick up Anders on the way to the Hanged Man. Assuming it doesn't rain on us again."

Merrill smiled. "That should be a fun day. I'm going to change."

I waved as she skipped off to her room, half-closing my eyes as I tried to relax. The sight of the thick scar just to the side of my navel didn't help with that, a hand coming around to poke at the stiff skin there.

Dead. I would have been dead without Merrill and Anders. That thought hit me at least once a day, usually as I was stretching away the aches from Merrill's spell, and it never left me in a particularly happy place. The cause of those scars and thoughts hadn't been from some cosmic, world-ending threat. I hadn't been facing down Solas or Corypheus, nor taken blows from Qunari or Templars.

A couple of racist idiots in Lowtown had nearly... should have killed me. All it had taken was me being too distracted to remember to keep moving, and their hatred for people with pointed ears. Sure, I'd taken most of them down with me, but that wasn't all that comforting in the end.

As soon as Anders had cleared me for heavier work I'd started sparring with Thrask or Emeric on a daily basis. Even Fenris once, when he's showed up in the early morning to buy food from Alienage vendors. I had to be better. More aware. Quicker. Deadlier.

I had to have more magical options than 'cast flamethrower once and hope it gets them all'.

Nature magic had proven to not be my thing at all. Merrill tried, God bless her, but we'd had to give up pretty quickly. I just couldn't get my head around Stone-Fist, much less anything else. So much of what she thought was blindingly obvious when it came to magic just wasn't to me. Why was calling stone out of the Fade better than just throwing something heavy or sharp that already existed in reality?

Apparently it was more mana-efficient than pulling up a big clump of stone and soil, but what if there was a handy brick nearby or something? That question had led to a minor breakthrough, and Merrill had pivoted to teaching me telekinetics instead. She wasn't the best at them, but she knew the basics.

I'd gotten my head around them a hell of a lot faster. It was just grabbing something that was laying around with magic and throwing it really, really hard. I got how that worked, the physics of it. It left me needing something nearby to toss in the first place, but it was better than nothing.

And I could cast it a lot more often than my flamethrower.

My only other progress had been more accidental; I'd been frustrated during one of our Stone-Fist attempts, and somehow made my magic boom like thunder had just gone off. It had scared us both half to death, and I had no idea how I'd done it.

A very loud, terrifying noise spell could be useful though. If I could combine it with a bright light or something, maybe I could add magical Flash-bangs to my arsenal. Something to stun people for me to stab, or, at least, stun them so that I could run away. Either way it was an idea I really wanted to pursue as soon as I mastered the art of chucking rocks and sticks at people.

"Maybe I should start carrying bricks in a bag or something." I mused before snorting at the idea. "Or throwing knives."

The fire crackling away was the only response I got to that.

Sighing, I pushed those thoughts aside even as I pushed myself to my feet. It was time for lunch.

Merrill padded back into the room, dressed in her sleeping shift, and between us we put a small lunch of bread and fruit together. I figured she'd talk about our plans for spell-work tomorrow, or about the Deep Roads. Instead she brought up one of the many other situations we were dealing with.

"Do you think your Chantry friend is going to keep giving those speeches?" She asked, sounding curious. "Even when we're away?"

"Probably." I sighed, "And I don't know that we're friends. Petrice is... fuck. I don't even know how to describe her."

Merrill giggled, "I think she wants to be friends with you. Not friends, but... you know. The kind of friends Isabella has."

That brought out a long groan from me. "I'm hoping she's just being a flirty Orlesian."

"You don't like her that way?"

"Not really." I admitted. "I mean, it's flattering. I don't... really get treated like that very often. Courtly, I mean. And I don't think she's just someone with a fetish for elves who thinks my ears are exotic. But I can't do casual relationships, and she's way too religious for me. Too intense."

"She does scowl a lot." Merrill noted, "Um. She doesn't like me very much, does she?"

I sighed. "She hasn't brought it up, but you're Dalish, so probably not. She doesn't think the Creators should be worshiped instead of the Maker. Fortunately she's got a one-track mind, and she's focused entirely on the Qunari. Just mention that you don't like them either and she'll leave you be. If she doesn't then talk to me about it, and I'll deal with it."

Merrrill nodded, biting her lip for a moment. "Do you?"

"Do I what? Like you? Of course I do."

She smiled, but it was a little strained. "I'm glad, but, um, I meant do you think the Creators should be worshiped?"

...fuck. There was a question I was hoping she'd never ask me. I was trying to find a way to change the subject, or at least gracefully dodge, when she went on, quiet and earnest as always.

"You don't like any of the stories I tell about them, except the ones with Fen'harel in them. You like him. Like the stories about him tricking foolish people and the proud Evanuris." She swallowed, almost nervously. "I... I only got the idea to save you when I prayed to him. Like he... wanted me to save you. Are you... do you worship him?"

Worship Fen'harel? Solas?

I couldn't help but laugh, "No!"

She tried to smile, but it was strained and as she began to nervously babble. "Y-you can tell me if you do. It's just, you only ever say 'god', singular, but you never say Maker. Or swear by the Creators. And you so loved the stories about him, and then I prayed to him and it just seemed like it made sense and... you talk about him, but never the others. Just Mythal, once. It's always asking for stories about Fen'harel. And you've been asking about them more often so I was wondering if that was a hint or something, and.. and now I'm babbling, aren't I?"

Because Solas was increasingly looking like he was my one and only option to get back to Earth. Asking Merrill for the occasional story about him let me try and figure out if he was going to be just as much of a nutcase as he'd been in Inquisition. And, maybe, just maybe, give me a hint as to where baldy was currently sleeping. I doubted it was Skyhold, and I wouldn't have the first clue where to find Skyhold beyond 'in the mountains' anyway.

First thing was first though. I had to convince my roommate that I didn't worship her version of the devil.

I reached out, taking her hand to calm her down. "Merrill, breathe. Breathe. You're not living with someone who worships the Dread Wolf. I promise."

"I... oh. Good." She slumped, squeezing my fingers back. "Ir abelas. That was... probably silly of me, I just... got worried."

"It's all right." I told her, still smiling. "I do like stories about him, because my people venerate tricksters. The weak defeating the strong through cleverness, delivering karmic justice. We grow up on tales like the ones you tell me. That doesn't mean I worship him, believe he's really a god, or agree with the things that he did in the end."

Her smile turned more genuine, then slowly morphed into a puzzled frown. "Not a god?"

"We... don't think the Evanuris were gods, no." I said, more quietly. "My people believe that they were just mages from Arlathan. Extremely powerful ones maybe, the rulers of society, but no more of a god than anyone else living in a society of semi-immortals."

"Oh." Merrill frowned, but didn't let go of my hand. "Then... what do your people think happened to them?"

I sighed, and gave her a bit of the truth, couched as if it was just a story. "Same thing your people think, more or less. Fen'harel banished them. We use him to explain why the Veil exists. We believe he tricked the Creators into going deep into the Fade, and lured the Forgotten into Reality, then threw up the Veil between them to cut both off from their sources of power. The Evanuris are still trapped somewhere beyond the Fade to this very day."

She hummed, still frowning. "That's... not that different than the tales kept by the Dalish. Do you think your people were ones that fled north after Arlathan fell, instead of south?"

"Maybe." I couldn't tell her the truth. I couldn't. "Or maybe we were always there. Maybe Arlathon's Empire stretched across the entire world."

That made her perk up at once. "That's true! Do you think I could help you get home if I fixed my Eluvian? Then we could bring all of the Elves to your homeland! We'd all be safe there, wouldn't we?"

Oh God. I shouldn't have said that. I shouldn't have said that. A pain formed in my chest, my heart cracking at the sheer hope she poured into her voice. "I... don't know if it'll be that easy."

"Why not?"

I swallowed, desperately trying to find a way to not break her heart. "I mean, I know you can fix it, Merrill. You're the most talented mage I've ever heard of. But even if you do, and you get it powered up again, won't it need a password?"

"Password?" She frowned again, puzzled. "Oh! A key? Of course it will. I already have a few ideas on that, but I have to restore the rest of it first."

...right. Was that what her trip to fully unlock the Demon had been about? Getting the key?

Ugh. I had no idea how to talk my way out of this one, except to hope that it never came up. She needed a tool from her clan to fix the Eluvian didn't she? Maybe I'd get lucky and her Keeper would leave the region sooner rather than later. Then we'd be stuck with a depressed Merrill and a broken Eluvian, but that would be a hell of a lot better than her realizing my mythical homeland didn't exist.

Not on Thedas, at least.

I... may have made a mistake in telling her my story as I had.

A big one.

"I'll help you get home." She promised, squeezing my hands firmly, smiling in that innocent way of hers. "Even if I have to pray to the Dread Wolf again. I promise. I'll work extra hard on getting the Eluvian repaired, you'll see!"

"I... thank you... Merrill." I whispered, praying she thought my emotions were from gratitude. "You're a good friend."

She smiled bashfully, glancing down before gasping. "Our bread is cold! Stay there, I'll warm it up again. Did you want to talk about the spells we'll try tomorrow?"

I could only nod, because the alternative was sobbing.