Blood from Stone [AU]

[Carver Amell]

"Yeah," says Carver, and his tone is gentle, his eyes sad. "Beth's become so amazing and strong. And Marian is getting better every day too. It's a good family we have."

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

And all I've done is...   A sudden surge of bitter envy sours Leandra's mood and she scowls at the wall. "Well, off with you both then. Not as if I expected anything more from either of you."

[Carver Amell]

Carver swallows hard. "Mother, please," he says gently. "Please don't. Please keep fighting. I... I want you to be part of this family. I want us to be whole again. Please don't shut me out."

[Bethany]

Biting her tongue, counts to ten. When Carver finishes, she adds, "we... We know what you did. To keep us safe earlier this week." At Leandra's pained flinch and sudden pallor, the younger human winces as well. "It... That was... Brave of you. Very... Carver, honestly, or Marian."

Normally you're... More like me really. A coward. Would I... if I had to make a choice like... "Doing that- giving a Claim to... one of them. It let's them whisper and nudge you. Lets them make you feel hate or despair, really badly. Fight it." She swallows, licks her lips. "For Carver's sake. Like he always fights for us."

[Carver Amell]

"We'll fix it," says Carver firmly. "We'll get you free. I promise. Just keep fighting and we'll get you free." and try not to think about how much more lucid and right-thinking you are while under sway of a demon than with all the help Summerhill could give.

[Leandra Hawke ne Amell]

Leandra bows her head, the care and love in Carver's face, the guarded hope on Beth's, warring with the sickly curls of bitter envy twisting in her guts. "...alright," she finally whispers. Is this me? Am I- it feels so... real. So normal and familiar. But... Oh Astea, Lady Mother of the Gods, Creator and Giver of Life, please show me the way. Help me find myself and lead me to my family... if I even still have a family. Please. Please. Leandra begins to rock slightly, tears slowly falling. "Please... please don't... please come back?"

[Carver Amell]

"Always," Carver swears. "I don't abandon family."

Marian was enough. Never again will I let someone I love suffer while I do nothing but watch.

[Varric]

"Thank you, Sergeant. I'm glad we were able to, finally, come to an agreement on how this will work out. I want the poisoners caught as much as you do, but I can't allow you to ruin good people's lives in the process."

"...of course, sir. If you could have your men come down to the station, we'll be happy to have them sit in on the questioning. But please sir, send them fast. We need to-"

"Right, right. Tomorrow morning, promise."

"Tom- of course, sir." Gritting out a goodbye, the guard stalks out of the office, calling for the other guards to follow.

Watching them, the dwarven lord of the manor smiles faintly, then rises to look out the window. He follows their progress off the grounds, then down the street. "Well. That went... smashingly really. Bit of s shame this can't last but... The Lantern is a tough thing to trick. Eh. Fun while it lasts. Speaking of fun..." Humming softly, he heads for the basement and the wine cellar. Well, wine, whiskey, liquors, ales, ciders, the works really. Varric prides himself on having a very good selection of all types of alcohol.  Picking up a bottle of finely aged scotch, he nods one before cracking the seal. A bit disrespectful, to drink from the bottle but I'm feeling a touch indulgent today.

The tuneless hum echoes faintly off the brick walls of the cellar almost the same way that a torch or candle would throw dancing shadows. Being a dwarf, Varric would not need such a thing, but there are sconces for the servants or human members of the family. Eventually, the dwarf reaches a small alcove mostly hidden by casks of uniform size and wood. "Good whiteoak. Always the best, hmm?" Shaking his head, he slips behind them, then lifts up a small grate. Peering down into the drainage pipe, Bartrand smiles at the bound and gagged form of his brother.

"Hello brother. Sorry it took me so long to get away... Let me tell you about my- your- day, shall I?"

[Helene Dakesh]

The evening hadn't been spent entirely at the temple. Helene had even gone home for a little bit, hoping to speak to their husband again now that they were calmer, now that they had a plan in mind. Merrill was against it, of course, but Helene was certain a trip to Draslina was in order. They could rejoin the family from there, when they were settled again, were more in control of themself. 

But Varric didn't come home. Neither did anyone else, not that night. And Helene could hardly sleep for fretting. And, and... 

Shortly after dawn, they and Merrill slip into the offices of one Merchant zi'Tethras. It's unlikely he's here, of course, but Helene is allowed through any ward he's had set, and they know many of his codes to his notes. They can find out the depth of what's going on here.

Assuming he's not hiding the information in some new code he hasn't shared.

No, stop it. He hid this, maybe, but you never asked. You didn't want to know, really. You were preoccupied. So. It will all be laid out on his desk, likely with notes about how he's been planning for you the whole time, how he's been thinking of you while he worked on it.

[Tethras Clan]

As one might expect, Varric's office is neat, orderly and far more trapped than would seem reasonable to the average individual. Thankfully, not only is Helene keyed to the wards, but he has also kept nem updated on the various configurations of traps. It only takes a minute or two for nem to disarm them and reach the desk, allowing Merrill and Glimmerwing to enter. The elf is frowning, still, have also grown more and more concerned as no-one comes home. And also by the wariness and strange behavior of the guards they saw on the way here...

As for the desk itself, the top is bare save for a few knick-knacks of no real value, a blank pad of paper, a writing set and an unused calendar. Also typical of Varric- with his memory, why leave a paper trail? Sure, he marks down random numbers and initials to fuck with people, but that's all. Using the key Varric gave nem years ago, Helene goes through the drawers until ne find the most recent bundles of correspondence. Much of it is just the typical chaff of being both a Light and a significant merchant in a major city-state. Some of it however... tucked away in a separate folder that was tied shut with silk binding and then a wax seal to ensure that Varric will know if someone opens it are a dozen letters written in dwarven. Scanning them, several lines leap out as being very significant. 

While you have left Orzammar to make a place on the surface, that does not mean the debts and obligations of your name and blood are made null or void.

Content to be satisfied with your periodic offerings of funds and discounts when you were a mere merchant of middling success, but with greater value comes greater obligations. As such, it is expected that you give proper difference and fealty to your ancestors in accordance with that greater value.

I understand that the value of traditions very well. I also understand the value of defiance and self-determination. I was cast aside, if not cast out, decades ago to make my own way. What debts I owed for the upbringing I was given as a youth, I have paid tenfold.

It is not up to children to decide when their debts are paid.

It is however, up to me to tell you to fuck off.

That is, technically, a course you might take. But should you refuse to come to terms with us, then you will be cast out. Your name will be taken. Your lineage broken. Your Clan shall refute you.

And, as punishment for their own failure, the same shall be done for your parents. Clanless cannot be buried on hallowed ground.

Challenge accepted. Come to Nyra and we'll see how well you bargain when you have to look a dwarf in the eyes and threaten his dead mother.

We shall be arriving in sixteen days. I suggest you learn civility in the meantime.

I caught all four of your men. Next time you send someone to sniff around my family, I will spend every favor and coin I have to ruin you. Do not test me a second time. This is between us.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene gently, tenderly, traces the words "fuck off" and "Challenge accepted". A smile graces nir face; ne brushes away tears, careful not to get them on the correspondence. He told them no, at first. He refused to uproot us. What changed? It must have been the threats to his family. He has a brother still living -- did they threaten him? Or perhaps he worried over his mother's afterlife? Perhaps he was unable to face me and tell me that he had backed down, that he had lost. Perhaps he was ashamed. Oh, Varric...

[Tethras Clan]

"So..." Merrill fidgets in her chair, curious about her Tuiste's changing expressions.

[Helene Dakesh]

Helene starts, having plum forgotten Merrill was here. "Ah. This provides no new information. Well. New information was provided, but not the key information this one sought. It seems that Varric is the reason the delegation came to Nyra, as he is he head of Clan Tethras."

[Tethras Clan]

"Okay? What do they want?" Merrill asks slowly, head tilting.

[Helene Dakesh]

"For us to return to Orzimmar. For Clan Tethras to once more be subject to Orzimmar's laws and involved in Orzimmar politics. For Varric to take his place among his ancestors and swear fealty once more, and for the children of his heart to be subject to the laws governing children of his blood."