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“Solas,” he said dryly, staring at the elf. He looked so different… his armor was more like what those elves had worn in Mythal’s Temple, although he had added a fur cloak. Wolf fur, if he wasn’t entirely mistaken. “You never were as subtle as you thought,” he observed idly, just thinking aloud, but Solas smiled a little at it.
“Perhaps not.” He strode towards Varric, hands clasped behind his back, and that was achingly familiar. He was dressed different, he held himself a little different, with a boldness that had only rarely slipped through. But so much remained the same. The slight tilt of his head as he stared at Varric, the furrow between his brows as he considered something, his faint sigh.
“So, what? You come to finish the job?” He felt disoriented and couldn’t place why, mostly focused on Solas. Solas, who frowned; Solas, who shook his head.
“That is not—”
“Spare me the speech,” he interjected. “You’ve come to kill me? You’ll have to work for it.”
“Varric,” Solas began again, but he shook his head, frustrated now.
“Let’s just get on with it, then! Kill me, end the world, do what you’re going to do!” He took a few steps closer, his anger surprising him. But not surprising Solas, who simply looked resigned. “Don’t you care? You’re going to destroy everything!”
“As I have before.” His voice was soft, distant, even as he met Varric’s eyes. “However… I have not come to kill you. Do you know where we are?”
That gave Varric pause. What did it matter? But then he looked around and…
“How’d I… get here?” He asked, cursing internally at the faint tremor in his voice, his uncertainty bleeding through.
“I had wondered that as well. We are in the Fade. You, my friend, are dreaming.”
“Yeah,” Varric said slowly, nodding. “Okay. That makes sense.”
“Does it?” That head tilt again. “Dwarves do not dream. Why is it that you do?”
“What?” He still felt a little foggy, disoriented. Things were sharper and duller here at once. “I— I don’t know. I just dream, sometimes.” He shrugged. Of course he’d heard people talk about how dwarves don’t dream—his people have no access to magic. But he’d been through enough shit that a few dreams didn’t bother him. “I just do.”
“Curious.” Solas approached, then walked around him, observing him from all angles as if he could discover the source of Varric’s dreaming in the folds of his clothing or something. It was hard to hold still for the observation, but he managed.
“So… you didn’t come to kill me?” Solas had stopped before him again and frowned, shaking his head.
“I have no desire to kill you. Nor anyone else. But you must stop tracking me. This is difficult enough without such distractions.”
“I’m not going to stop,” he pointed out firmly. Stubbornly. Something. Solas sighed, staring at him for a long time. When he spoke, his voice was strange, distant and hard:
“I can make you stop.”
“You can’t kill me,” he protested, gesturing around them. “We’re in the Fade. Dreaming! I can’t die here.” Solas was already nodding.
“That much is true. But I can trap your mind here. I can summon spirits—demons, you would call them—to contain you.”
That made his blood run cold. Solas’ eyes were hard, his jaw was set, his posture firm.
It was frightening.
And it was a goddamn lie.
“You wouldn’t,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re acting real tough, Chuckles, but I know you. You’re all bark. You wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to anyone.”
“You have no idea what I’m capable of,” Solas pointed out in that same voice, but Varric wasn’t having any of it.
“You’re wounded, desperate, and trying to fix everything. I get it. And maybe that can drive you to extremes—maybe it already has, maybe it will, I don’t know. But I do know that you can’t look me in the eye and condemn me to being a prisoner of the Fade. Even if you can destroy this world, I don’t believe for a minute that you can destroy me like this.”
“I could leave,” he observed in that same cold tone. “If you believe me incapable of looking you in the eye as I destroy you, you should know that’s not the only option. I need not suffer your distractions or your demise.”
“Right,” he drawled. “Of course. You’ll just summon one of your friends to do your dirty work for you.” There—a frisson of emotion crossed Solas’ face. “And you’ll leave me doomed with a clear conscience. Is that it?”
“I have killed many—”
“And you didn’t want to—”
“—including those I called friend!” Solas finished, voice raised and breathing hard. He seemed to realize his mistake and looked away with a hiss.
Varric wondered about that. Wondered who Solas had killed, wondered how. By guiding them into battles that had been lost? Or had they died by his own hand, turning on them in his desperation? Had they betrayed him? Or had he betrayed them?
“Maybe so,” he began, voice soft now. Imploring. “But it’s pretty obvious you didn’t want to. And you don’t have to do this. Any of this.”
“You have no idea—”
“Then tell me!” That startled Solas, forced his gaze back to Varric, eyes wide. “Tell me what the problem is, tell me your secrets! I’ll help, damn you! We can figure something out together.”
Solas stared at him, expression more open than Varric had ever seen before. Fear and desire warred openly in him. At last he laughed, shaking his head as he stepped away. “You are dreaming, Varric. It is a good dream. I will not condemn you to my nightmare.”
“Solas—” but just like that, he was gone. And Varric was alone, cursing up a storm in the fucking Fade of all places.