#anyway that's kind of a snippet of how i picture kerros getting roped into this after getting a rivaini noble killed

[gwynbleiddyn]

→ Kerros 'Rook' Severan-Laidir

"Varric, you're asking me if you can take my son on a wild goose chase for Solas, of all fucking people..."

"Look, I've tried talking to Kerros, you know I have -- I was there in Skyhold when he was all scraped knees and fairytales, you think I want to see him on the trail of the most dangerous man in Thedas? Shit, even I'm not sure I want to be on this trail right now. Point is, he's a grown man... grown, Rion. And he lives in this world too. I'm not asking you, Scars, your son is telling you. "

The nickname is pointed. A callback to a better time, when both of them had no idea where the Inquisition would lead. The snarl drops from Rion's lips, his face softening.

"I know."

And then Rion is silent for a moment longer than Varric would like. He can do nothing but watch and take note of the man he once called Inquisitor, and more importantly, the man he now calls an old friend. The carefully constructed fingers of Rion's left hand clamp tightly around the head of his walking stick, his weight growing too heavy for his own legs to bear. It's punctuated by the strain at the corner of his eyes, the tightness of his mouth. Pain seeps from him with every breath, shuddering, as though he was stood on the icy banks of the Emprise du Lion ten years ago, and not drowning in the evening sun on the shores of Rialto Bay.

"Can you keep him safe?" comes the inevitable question any reasonable father would ask.

"No." Varric shakes his head. Not a promise anybody can make, these days, least of all him. But he lifts his heavy hands, hesitating for a moment over Rion's own before they envelop the gloved construct over the top of his walking stick. It's jarringly cold and devoid of a pulse. Varric briefly recalls the feeling of the anchor pulling at reality, and his stomach begins to twist and churn in memory of something that no longer exists. "But I can promise I will try, with everything I have. You gotta let him fly, Rion, sooner or later."

Another pause, but this one seems less... reluctant. More considerate. Rion's gaze shifts downwards to Varric's hands, and a slow, sad smile crosses his face.

"What was it you always called him? For stealing your rings when you weren't looking..."

Varric smiles, eyes stinging. They both pretend it is the sunlight. "Rook."