Hazelnuts and plaid

[Marian Hawke]

"What the fuck are you even talking about?!"

[Varric]

Helene freezes a moment, plans still yet undecided coming apart at the seams. "I'm talking about my shame and my mistake," he whispers, accent abruptly shifting. The voice is still the same, more or less, though the polite, almost timid quality has entirely vanished. Shoulders are held more squarely, the quill has been twirled in place to be held instead as if it were a dagger and feet planted for stability and balance instead of minimum space needed to stand. Head is still lowered, eyes are still gleaming though. "I'm talking about how this is as much my fault as it might be yours, daughter mine."

[Marian Hawke]

Marian jumps to her feet, shoving Helene backward as hard as she can. "You're lying, stop lying to me!" she hisses. "Stop fucking with me or so help me, I don't care who you are, I'll end you!"

[Varric]

"Marigolds singsong forty-eight and nine above square root to sixteen the eleventh pie and ale," Varric says quietly. It's months older than any passphrase they'd used prior but it's also the last one they'd set up. "After-- After Tentos, after we got back to Nyra, the very first thing you asked for yourself that wasn't something you were guessing I wanted to hear was about Rosemary. When we tracked her down, you tried to pay for her to come back to Nyra. She told you to-- to not just fuck off but to fuck right off into the Bitch's Bed. You grabbed my arm without even looking, saving her miserable life. Didn't even realize you were gripping my arm until you finished talking to her. You went pale and tried to stammer out apologies and I just hugged you."

[Marian Hawke]

"Stop it," she whimpers, but it's a pitiful mew, no longer angry. Tears flood down her face, and she sinks to her knees, huddling her arms around her center. "Stop it. Leave me alone. You're not him. He wouldn't come back for me. He's never coming back and I just have to deal with it."

[Varric]

There's a jingle, a clicking noise, then Helene's form is kneeling in front of Marian on the other side of the bars. "I was always going to come back, Marian," he says hoarsely. "Always. I got Aveline's message just this morning, then 'bela's an hour later. I teleported here and I've been trying to figure out what the Hells going on since. I--I was trying to help you. I was wrong. Let me try again? Let me help you now?"

[Marian Hawke]

"I don't deserve your help," she whispers, not even bothering to wipe at her eyes. "I'm a coward. A murderer. And worse, a weakling. I don't deserve to be your daughter."

[Varric]

"So am I," Varric says brokenly. "So I guess it fits. A coward's help for a coward, a weakling's help for a weakling. You're not a murderer though, so not sure if you want this murderer's help."

[Marian Hawke]

"You're not." A deep, shuddering breath. "You can't be real. I'm losing my mind. I'm hallucinating. I..."

[Varric]

Varric reaches out and flicks her on the forehead. 

[Marian Hawke]

She flinches, and that flinch causes her to lose what's left of her composure. She breaks down in great, racking sobs, burying her face against Varric for comfort. 

[Varric]

He can't remove the makeup or the glued wig, but he can deactivate the magical hat at least. And so it's a broad dwarven chest she presses against, strong dwarven arms that hold her close. It's Varric's voice that murmurs apologies and comforts. It's Varric's tears the dampen her hair.

[Marian Hawke]

"I killed her," she finally whispers, shuddering. "I should be killed myself."

[Varric]

"You didn't. It was an accident. A terrible, horrible accident. It was caused by your mistake, your negligence, but not your malice or calculation," Varric whispers back. "Merrill wouldn't want you to do for it. She would want you to learn from it. Bring her back if we can. Finish her works and honor her life if we can't."

[Marian Hawke]

"She was the one person I swore above all else to protect, and I killed her. I wish I was dead."