Doom Upon All The World

Chapter 43: Morals

     He hadn't wanted to leave. In fact, he was entirely opposed to the idea. Detested it even. Every bone in his stout, stubby body told him that leaving, that taking the few incredibly  important people in his life and going home, was more than wrong. It was down right damning. Leaving all of them was a death sentence. Maeve, Solas, Cassandra, and Cullen were more than capable and they had the help of Leliana and Morrigan. Keiran might be of help depending on who he proves true allegiance to. But even so, Gilderoy was a force to be reckoned with and to make matters worse he had an army behind him whose numbers are unknown. They had no way of knowing where their faults lie. They were at an extreme disadvantage and he couldn't, in good conscience, leave them to die. They needed them. If they were to go back to Skyhold the numbers in the compound would be doubled. They might make it. But the others wouldn't go, he knew. 

      It took them two days with no stops to reach a safe port. They were smart to avoid the small fishing towns in the north. They couldn't know how far Gilderoy's reach was. They had to be careful. While small villages were to be avoided, they knew that getting lost in a large crowd of people, where faces and identities were blended in the hurried rush of daily life, would be a simple task. Thus they settled on daring the ship city of Gwaren, the largest port in Fereldan. Hawke and Fenris had travelled through here on the way to the gathering. That seemed like so long ago now. How long had it actually been? A Month? A week? Two? Could this have all really happened in so little time? Varric had no idea. 

     He stopped as they stepped onto the dock. Bianca, Fenris, and Hawke were ahead of him. The latter two were hand in hand, holding up the lead as they spoke softly to one another, drawing thin lipped smiles from the other as they pleased. Varric wished more than anything that he could do the same with Bianca. But he couldn't. Ever since they left Skyhold, left all of his friends, left all of those poor children, he couldn't look at any of them straight. He sighed as his boots stuck in place and he found it morally impossible to go any further. Bianca, the crossbow, weighed heavily on his back, pressing the air from his lungs violently. He closed his eyes, hearing the footsteps of the others grow quieter as they walked across the dock to the ship that would take them home to Kirkwall. 

      "I'm going back." Varric pronounced abruptly. Almost immediately the footsteps stopped. The patterning of the soles of their boots ceased and he felt their estimating eyes on him. There was a rush and he felt the shaking of the dock as someone approached him. A firm hand struck his jaw, sending shocks of pain lancing up through his skull. He recognized it. The thing fingers had the strong, rough feel of a person that had tinkered for years. A smith's hands. He opened his eyes and Bianca stood furiously in front of him. Her face was flushed brightly with anger. It was clear she was beyond enraged with him.

     "Like hell you are." She shouted at him, her hand resting firmly on his shoulder, ready to toss him into the water should the necessity arise. "You came all this way, got us to Gwaren, we're a day ship ride from Kirkwall and now you want to go back?" She spoke incredulously. She couldn't understand how he could want to do this, how he could expect her to let him do it. 

      "Yes. I'm going back to help my friends, Bianca." He elaborated. He had to be clear that this was incredibly important to him. His eyes shifted to the two standing a few feet behind the other dwarf. Fenris had his hand on Hawke's shoulder but she looked like she wanted to go to him, to beg him not to do it. She looked worried, more worried than the day they'd finally killed Danarius. "Hawke understands because if it were me going through this back at Skyhold, she never would have left my side." Varric pointed out justly as Marian lowered her eyes to the floor. She knew he was right. 

     Varric softened his gaze as he looked on Bianca. He brought his hand up to caress her cheek and push back the tear that threatened to spill over the lip of her eyelid. She smacked it away with a violent, betrayed look. Her chest heaved with unsteady breath and the thunderous beating of her heart. She looked away, afraid that if she kept her gaze on him too long she'd snap. Varric watched as she waged a fierce war inside herself. It took him barely a second to take her in his arms, bringing her body close to his own. She turned her face away from him, hiding from his line of sight. She didn't want him to see her in such a weak state. She knew there was nothing she could do to make him stay with them. "Bianca, look, I can't do this. I can't leave them and live with what might happen to them on my conscience. My morals won't allow it." He admitted to her, pleading with her to understand.