Chapter Text
The anxiety had grown to be all but intimate. Impatience was usually the culprit who introduced it into her mind. The unknowing intent was what kept it stirring. Like a fish in a bucket, circling the familiar waters with foreign walls. It kept her trapped, more so with her own thoughts than anything. And it left her without an outlet, a way to release the tension that was built beneath the lump in her throat. Aeva was never one to fidget as a way channel the uneasiness that overcame her. She was fond of finding other ways. And when she didn't, she had the tendency to become aggressive.
"The fact that you've cornered me in Nevarra just so you can drag me into this hall of despair is enough," she huffed, running a finger down the soot covered wall. "This is proven to be ridiculous."
"As if your wooden shack of self pity was doing you any good?" Dorian retorted, clearly fed up with her poor attitude. "I cannot give you any more information than what I was given. But I assure you, this is important."
"More important than what's happening in Tevinter?"
"Aeva," this time, he stopped, turning on his toes to face her. "If I knew, I'd tell you. You know that."
"Right. Because you've been great at communicating these days."
Dorian sighed, reaching out his former friend with a gentle hand placed on her shoulder. The months had been long and the silence from his end was noted. There was no guilt from him, as he felt there was nothing he had done wrong. But the pain he had caused her was at last worthy of an apology. Though it was not the time or the place. A man of words and memories, he knew there would be a time he would owe Aeva a moment of sympathy. If there would ever be one. It wasn't here. He gave her a light pat, his mouth tightening into a small smile before he turned back around and continued down the hall. Aeva followed begrudgingly. The sight of the door came into their view at last, much to Dorian's disliking. Calming Aeva was much like stopping a landslide at the base of the mountain. The majority of excitement had already happened and the preparation of what to come was a combination of wishful thinking and bracing for impact. No one was willing to explain this to the former Inquisitor, however. And so her bully of a personality remained intact during most occasions. Though Dorian had to admit, when it did not come in handy, it was at least mildly entertaining to observe.
"You're sure we were supposed to meet here?" he asked over his shoulder.
"I'm pretty sure," Varric shrugged. "This was the place I marked on the map. Only abandoned building left this stable."
"Why do I feel like I'm wasting my time?" the elf rolled his eyes, glancing back down to the flame dancing in the small brick oven next to him.
"Anything that doesn't consist of swinging a sword is considered a waste of your time," the dwarf chuckled against the wall.
Fenris crossed his arms, resting his shoulder against the mantle. There were many other things that required his attention. Things that did not consist of sitting in contempt waiting in a room while inhaling dust and smoke. His initially response was a firm refusal. But Varric had insisted his compliance was necessary. There were also mentions that if Fenris did not agree to meet him Nevarra, Varric would personally come to him and drag him south. In which case, Fenris agreed to spend one, and only one, evening to entertain his ideas.
"We'll give them a little more time," the dwarf rocked on his feet, his hands resting on his crossbow as he used it as a prop.
"I was under the impression that was what we were already doing," Fenris grumbled.
"I'm sure our friends had a difficult time getting here. If my memory serves me right, she's just as stubborn as you are."
"They're late," his voice was on the verge of raising from irritation.
"Fashionably so, I'm afraid," a boisterous voice entered the room abruptly after and obnoxious creak from the door.
The inhabitants of the room turned, witnessing first the sway of silk robes adorned by a graceful man. He gestured briefly, yet politely with his hands as he presented himself before them. Appearing behind him dressed in rugged leather was the infamous Aeva Lavellan, yet another brooding elf with a sulking demeanor and a tongue not so eager to speak. As she crossed through the threshold into the dank room, her eyes scanned across it briefly. It was a ruin of a room with broken chairs and tables that had not been bothered to be pushed to the side. Her gaze stopped, cold and unyielding the other elf in the room. The hard lines on his scowled face suddenly softened, his green eyes wide as he caught her staring from across the table. There were no words, just a simple acknowledgement through a series of blinks while surveying one another. She was just as others described. Hair deep red like autumn trees. Her face was clear, smooth in places where there weren't any scars. Her mouth were bent into a rigid frown, but he could make out the creases on the corners where dimples would appear when she smiled. And through the dark, despite her being feet away, he could see the yellow flecks in her green eyes. His eyes wandered around her leathers, down her cloak, and caught the glimmering metal beneath. She was no stranger to the fascinated stares of those who saw her arm and she brushed the cloak aside without shame so he may study it openly.
If there were any words that she wanted to speak, they were cut short as Varric bustled to her side. But his attention was not on her at all. As she looked down at him, he was already taking her arm into his hands gently, turning it over as if it were a mysterious puzzle that he would more than likely never solve. But he so desperately loved to try.
"Is this Bianca's work?" he questioned through cautioned breath.
"It is," Aeva replied dully.
"Then her visit was worth while," he rose her hand closer to his face. "I hadn't heard anything from her. Or you."
His stern gaze fixated upward now to her stone face. A small smirk slipped through, just enough for a small crease to form. It was the first time he had looked up at her since he forced her into hiding. Back then, her anger had only grown. She was never happy about submitting herself fully to Red Jenny. And she didn't seem any happier now. Still, the communication had remained steadfast with letters streaming in of both the secretive and the polite kind. They liked to remind each other not so often of friendship, but of their intentions to come. If there was one thing Varric liked to keep around, it was his connections.
"It's a fine mechanism. But I commissioned Dagna to do a little something special," she added just as he noticed the runes etched in the sides.
"What an atrocious contraption," Fenris said quietly as he caught sight of the cursed etchings.
"It truly is," the woman recaptured his attention. "But I haven't got much of a choice."
The metal shimmered as Varric let it slide through his grasp, turning to face his other comrade.
"Fenris, this is Lady-"
"I know who she is," Fenris stated calmly, his eyes never leaving her.
"Just Aeva, then, if you please," she stated.
"A pleasure," Fenris bowed slightly. "The word of your fires burning in Orlais have been a popular topic in Tevinter."
"Is that so?" her eyes shifted hesitantly to the dwarf, who both loved and hated the tale.
"I admire your passion for vengeance, though I feel you lack some discretion," he gave a witty smile.
Aeva raised and a brow and Varric simply... sighed. His hand patted her slightly on her side, as if he were about to sending a child to boarding school. There was an uncertainty looming above him. Either this was an excellent idea... or a very ... very ... bad one.
"You two are going to get along just fine," he said with a nervous smile of his own.
"Alright," Dorian interrupted. "This is Varric. And Fenris. I am Dorian. Now that this lovely introduction is done and over with, let's get to business."
"I agree," Fenris re-assumed his position with crossed arms.
Aeva, usually crossing her arms herself, suddenly had no inclination of what to do with her hands. The previous months had been filled with secret meetings and yet, this one was quite different. This wasn't like ducking into abandoned warehouses with Sera. Or dipping onto closed balconies. It felt as if there was more weight to it. Memories of the war table came rushing in. Her heart beat faster with the fondness of it's nostalgia. With a breath, she held it for a moment as her mind began to swirl. The whispers were faint, but they were still picking at her thoughts. Concentrating on the room around her, their voices faded. And she could see her friends again.
"Where do we start?" Varric asked.
"There's a clear connection here," Dorian lifted a hand. "We should somehow coordinate these movements."
"What do you mean?" Fenris shifted slightly.
"I've been part of an underground organization," Aeva spoke. "And you... have as well?""
"It's not organized enough to be an organization," he shrugged.
"Contacts," Varric nudged him. "We talked about this. You have contacts."
"And we need those contacts to start correlating," Dorian leaned forward.
"I don't like this," Aeva stated firmly. "I'm better on my own."
"You had your way and it didn't work," Varric made a downward notion with his hands to calm her down. "It was hard enough to make you disappear after your rampage in the Exhaulted Planes."
"I can't imagine how difficult that was. Is it true you took out every statue in Orlais?" Fenris asked out of both curiosity and concern.
"I certainly tried," Aeva's voice was enthused. "There were some places I couldn't set charges. So I defiled them."
"Defiled?"
"She cut off the head of the wolf statues. Can we please continue the meeting?" Dorian began to grow irritated. "If I'm away from Tevinter longer than a day, the council begins to discuss who will inherit my dining ware."
"Perhaps Red Jenny could be of some use?" Aeva suggested, attempting to cut herself out as a contact all together.
"What's a Red Jenny?" Fenris lowered his brow.
"It's complicated," Aeva, Dorian, and Varric said in unison.
"That might work. But... that's a large network. Too many hands. Too many hands we don't know," Varric disagreed once again.
"I'm not even sure what we're supposed to be discussing to begin with," Fenris ran his hand through his hair.
"We're discussing how to correlate our efforts. The easier the communication is between us, the less likely we'll have to continue our meetings in lovely hovels such as this one," Dorian explained. "Cutting out further exchanges through third parties also reduces the risk of our efforts being discovered. This meeting was supposed bring two links together."
"There's too much back and forth."
"They do this all the time. You get used to it."
"Look, Aeva," Varric sighed, leaning onto the table. "We're all involved in this. Whether you like it or not. You'll have to accept that we need each other's help."
Aeva looked at her dwarven friend, shifting over to Fenris who seemed very unmoved by the statement. It was clear he did not want her help, either. She placed both her hands on the table, slowly moved over them to where her face was closer to Varric's, and smiled.
"No."
"What do you mean no?" he was starting to get angry.
"He doesn't belong anywhere but Tevinter. And I've got to keep moving if I want to find him. "
"This is beyond you, Aeva. Stop being so stubborn."
"Then let him handle it," she nodded to Fenris.
"I'm busy," he grumbled under his breath.
"Well that's too bad," Varric heard him, spinning around and glaring at the corner where Fenris stood. "Because I need both of you."
"Ask someone else," Aeva's voice rose.
"I can't," Varric's eyes were wide.
"Shut up, both of you," Dorian said calmly. "Before you alarm someone that we're in here."
Aeva shoved herself away from the table, causing dust to rise into the air like a light fog. The hand of the dwarf waved it away, pacing over to the fire where he hung his head. What tension had filled the room eventually dissipated as silence replaced it. Though something still lingered.
"It's about the mirror..." Varric straightened his coat.
"The mirror," Aeva spun around. "The mirror that was sent to Cumberland?"
"That mirror," he nodded.
"The mirror that was supposed to be locked away? And studied so that I may use it for future purposes?"
"That's the one."
"What about... the mirror?"
"I didn't send it to Cumberland," he rose his head, his mouth a straight line.
"Varric..." Aeva's eyes flickered.
"It came with me to Kirkwall. I sent it to Merrill."
"You did what?" Fenris pushed himself off the wall.
"We need to relocate it."
"Fendehis," Aeva hissed. "Fendehis lasa."
Aeva pointed furiously at him and began to pace around the room, elven words spilling from her mouth that Dorian could barely make out.
"If there is anyone who can tell us anything about the eluvian, it's her," Varric defended himself. "I didn't want to tell anyone because I didn't want to put that knowledge in danger. The only people who know are Merrill and myself."
"Ma harel lasa! Dirthara-ma... Ma halam..." Aeva was storming the room, various Dalish phrases coming from her mouth.
"But we've got to move the mirror. And soon."
"I will move the mirror," her words cut through gritted teeth. "And it's not going to Cumberland. Clearly I can't trust anyone. It's going back to my people."
"Your taking the mirror to the elves?" Dorian straightened to himself.
"I'm taking it to Wycome."
"I don't think it will be safe in Wycome," he said while also trying not to upset her further.
"I know someone there who might be able to examine the mirror. Once you get back to Tevinter, be on the lookout for someone who can study it. I will wait for Arlathvhen. It's quite possible I can recruit someone there to look into this further."
"It's settled then," Varric waved his hands.
"We are not finished here," her head snapped back to Varric.
"Well... I had every intention of not returning to Kirkwall." Fenris said, listening to them speak without having any input.