The light. That's what Varric remembered most clearly. Bold, insistent, like staring at the sun. The little white dots danced across his vision and knocked him right on his backside. He liked to think Hawke was screaming something or that Cullen was racing toward the clump of mages, but if he were perfectly honest, Varric couldn't hear or see clearly enough to reliably report.

Ina was laughing. The light had started purple, faded to lavender, then grew hot white, until it dispersed and sprinkled over them like flower petals. When he'd gathered his senses, Varric could see Bethany. Placid, calm Bethany. She stood, untouched, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the collapsed forms of Donal, Anders and Ina. She'd scooped up her niece and Hawke scrambled toward them.

"She's breathing!" That's when he heard it. The panic, the anxiety. It was all so beautifully in Bethany's voice.

"Bethany?" Hawke was running her hands over her child, they pawed for injuries, scanned for life. Lyrium blue eyes blinked and then she ran a thumb across her sister's tear-streaked face.

"I can feel it," Bethany said. "The magic and the Fade and her little heart beating and Maker, she's breathing! Please, let her be okay."

And as Bethany held Ina, Hawke crushed them both in a hug. She froze there, awestruck and clinging to them both. Hawke, Varric thought, had the luxury of time. Time to cherish, time to reflect. Bethany, thankfully, seemed to know what a gift that moment was as she laughed and cried and showered her sister's face with as many kisses as she could muster before her eyes dulled once more with tranquility.

Idle, precious chatter and then nothing. Anora barked and Ina squealed. Varric grimaced. Somehow, if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was being covered with flower petals as opposed to the less glamorous sprinkling of freshly torn grass.

On his back, Varric brushed the grass off his face. "Shoo, kid," he grumbled. "You're bothering me."

"Nuh uh!" Ina stuck her tongue out, but following a yip from Anora, she took off toward the pond.

Varric closed his eyes and took in the warmth of the sun on his face. He breathed in the smell of dirt and grass and wildflowers. "She's putting on a show for you, you know," he said.

"I had hoped that was the case," Anders said.

Anora had sunk her teeth into the hem of Ina's skirt and dragged the girl down to the ground. Ina's indignant squawks turned into hysterical laughter as the mabari covered her in wet, sloppy dog kisses. The dog's short, stump of a tail wagged ecstatically.

"Little miracles," Varric murmured. He pulled his hands up behind his head and stretched out on the ground. "She can't remember that night at all."

"Good." Anders followed his daughter with his eyes. He didn't move from his spot, seated in the grass.

"When are you leaving?" Varric asked.

"Soon," Anders replied. "As soon as I can pull myself away from all of this."

Concern for Ina had taken precedence. It had taken several moments for them to notice Anders moaning on the ground or Donal Amell and the way he lay too still.

"Oh, no you don't!" Cullen reached Donal first and flipped him face up. Gangle's pale skin looked like crumpled parchment. Cullen shook him. "You don't get to die, you don't get to take the easy way out!"

"Here." Half conscious and wheezing, Anders still managed to crawl toward the other two men. Healing, blue light sputtered and fizzled from his hand. Blondie inhaled deep and tried again.

Donal's chest rattled and he whimpered. "Hate blood magic," was all he could force out between his agonized groans.

"Andraste's grace, you will live and answer for all of this," Cullen told him.

Gangles was done talking. He reached up and gripped Cullen's hand in his and held tight. Cullen shook his head, but his gaze softened.

There should have been a torch lit. That had been the only clear and continuous thought in Varric's head. If there was a torch lit, they'd be able to see Anders' eyes, see his expressions, without getting too close. As it was, Blondie sat panting near Donal and Cullen. Anders gaze lingered on them a moment, then traveled to Ina and then back again.

"She's beautiful," Anders said it then, and he said it now.

And smart and spoiled and sweet and a right pain in the arse. Ina's arms flailed up to emphasize something. She was covered in mud and muck from the edge of the pond.

"What'd you think she was going to look like?" Varric asked.

"Not this perfect." Anders pulled his knees to his chest and laughed. "Although the poor dear has me to thank for that frizz head."

And you to thank for her Aunt Bethany and Uncle Donal, Varric thought. "You should see her try to smirk like Hawke," he snorted. "She looks a little too much like some other mage to get it right."

"That poor girl." A joke, probably, that Anders was the butt of.

He looked fine. He'd finally shaved that pathetic excuse of a beard and pulled his hair back away from his face. It wasn't quite the golden that Varric remembered, but age had been kind to Anders. Instead of the stray, angry streak of white he'd seen in Hawke, Anders' blonde hair just grew paler and paler until one day it would be nothing but white. There were a few worry creases on his forehead; Varric wished the smile lines had been deeper.

"Are you sure?" Varric blurted out. "It doesn't look like there's anything wrong with you."

"Right now, nothing is, I suppose," Anders said. He hugged his knees. "But you saw what happened. You know better than anyone not to trust that."

He did know. He saw the demon touch Anders, forehead to forehead, and fade into him. Varric saw Anders' eyes swell black, then flash blue and merge purple before they returned to brown.

"Yeah, that won't give me nightmares or anything," Varric said, although in truth, the more harrowing nightmares had subsided in favor of the more mundane, like showing up to the Hanged Man without pants. "Blondie, did you..?"

"I made a deal," Anders said. "So far it's been very beneficial. But I expect that will eventually change."

"Do you know if there's ever been anyone else?" Varric wasn't sure of the wording, of how to be tactful. Beneath him, the grass was soft and it could have been any other day. "Like you?"

Anders shook his head. "I haven't come across any texts that speak of two Fade creatures within one host. But I'm sure stranger things have happened."

"Such as?"

"Give me a moment; I'll think of something."

They chuckled and just enjoyed the sunshine. Down by the pond, Anora ran circles around a panting and breathless Ina.

"It's quiet now," Anders said. "I feel alone in my own head. I can't remember the last time I felt that way. I think it's because Justice and Desire have polar opposite goals."

"I don't know." Varric scratched his chest. "You could have a burning desire for justice."

"Don't say that!" Anders hands shook as he raked them across his face. He laughed. "That's what I'm afraid of. I believe that if one kills the other, then I'll also die and take them both with me to the grave. That stops them from fighting to the death. It's quiet because they're looking for dominance and are at an impasse."

"But?" Varric asked.

Anders nostril flared and his mouth twisted into something that wasn't a smile. "But what if they work out a compromise?"

Ina had wrapped her arms around Anora's neck and chest and the mabari licked all over her face.

"Nothing like being a walking time bomb," Varric said.

"I forgot how pleasant you are," Anders muttered. "You always evoke such lovely images."

"It's what I do." There was some sort of insect, cricket maybe, creeping its way through the grass. If Varric listened closely, he could hear the slow,steady moves of its tarsus and mandibles as it pushed aside a single blade of grass. "How much time do you have?"

"Don't know." Anders' gaze was locked on Ina. "Maybe they'll never work it out and I'll live my life as Anders the mage. Maybe they'll make a deal in the next five minutes."

Varric wasn't sure what to say. He sat up. "I could use a drink," he said. "You think Hawke will read my mind and bring us drinks?"

"No." Anders had a sour expression. "She's making supper."

"Oh."

"Avoiding me."

"Ah."

"We said our piece." Anders exhaled and shifted on the grass.

"And?" Varric asked. "What happened?"

Blondie laughed. "Not for your stories," he said. "I can't blame her for leaving, it was probably the right thing to do. Which is why I want you to do it, again."

"What?" Varric pushed himself up to a sitting position. "Don't take this the wrong way, Blondie, but nice little cottages with ponds and chicken coops don't just appear with a wish and a smile. It took quite a few favors to secure this place."

"I'm going to go to Tevinter," Anders said. "If there's anyone who can help me, they'll be in Tevinter. But you can't stay here, because I know where this place is, now. Desire knows I want Esther and Justice tells me that Ina is mine. You've kept them safe from everything else, now I need you to keep them safe from me."

"No pressure," Varric muttered. "Yeah. I can do that."

Hawke had been fierce. In the dark, her face was streaked with red and shadows as she stormed over to Anders. She thrust Ina at him and Hawke's jaw tightened.

"Heal her!" Hawke demanded. "Do nothing for me ever again, but you bring my daughter back to me."

Anders blinked and brought his hand up. He slid his palm against the girl's forehead and dragged his hand through her red hair. Ina squeezed her eyes shut and shrugged his hand away. "She's just unconscious," he murmured. "There's nothing to do. She's perfect, she's healthy, she's wonderful."

With that, Hawke snatched Ina back as the child came to. Anders watched from afar, dazed. Afterwards, things happened with a plodding certainty that was usually reserved for stories that ended in "happily ever after." Cullen left with Donal and Bethany, but not before he informed Anders that his men would be instructed to kill Blondie on sight. Anders accepted it with a nod and after a grudging, "Fine," from Hawke, followed her and Varric home. Somewhere in between, the sun rose and Ina woke.

That night, Varric slept, a dreamless, black calm. He liked that, the calm. It was nice, the feeling that the worst was past them. That was of course, until the next calamity arose, but Varric figured they were due another several years of peace and obscurity until that point. For now, it was just sunshine and sweet grass.

"I miss Esther terribly," Anders told him. "But I have her love. That will be enough."

A pretty sentiment. Varric grunted in agreement. He'd be interested in hearing Hawke's version.

Varric settled back down on the grass and closed his eyes. He wasn't sure how he'd tell the story just yet. He'd need a belly full of ale, certainly, maybe something creamy and Orlesian. The Champion of Kirkwall faltered and was afraid, and the Chantry's Blight tried to make amends; it had all the right elements if spun correctly.

By the time supper was ready, Anders had left and the sun dipped beneath the horizon. The air was crisp with the onset of night and it sent the little hairs on Varric's arms shooting upwards. Ina and Anora galloped toward him as he stood.

Ina swung her arms out at him. "I'm the queen of Orlais and I eat frogs!"

"Empress," Varric said. "And I think you mean foie gras."

"I'm queen," Ina declared. "I'll eat whatever I want."

"I suppose you can." He directed her toward the cottage. The smell of meat and garlic lingered in the air. "It smells like mutton stew to me. Would that suit her royal highness?"

Ina scrunched her face up as she thought. "Yeah, okay." She nodded.

"Good," he replied with a grin. "That, we can do."