The Audience Chamber
Varric was lost in thought as he moved down the dark, obsidian corridor. His broad shoulders and back continually flashed with the line of silver scales moving down his serpentine length, catching the unseen ambient light with every step. It was like sparks of unknown, dangerous light flashing in the deep subterranean darkness.
Ardyn was all he could think of. She was a persistent, illogical notion overriding every certified nuance of his existence, even when he knew he had matters of state and threats to the clan to address. He shook his head, the motion an unnatural tremor designed to clear his mind, but her memory—her delicate, haunting sadness—clung to his neural pathways. He entered the public chambers through the side entrance that led to his main study, a space usually reserved for his most critical staff.
Marcus, his aide, stood just outside the huge stone door. The red and orange snake kin was almost as bulky as Varric but usually projected an aura of kind, if slightly concerned, professionalism. Today, all Varric could detect was the rigid stance and contained fury of a lieutenant prepared for conflict. He paused and looked at his subordinate, the silver light rippling across his own scales dulling momentarily.
"Is there a problem, Marcus?" Varric's voice was a low, resonant baritone, demanding immediate clarity.
The snake kin straightened respectfully, his own scales glistening with tension, and bowed low.
"Yes, My Lord. It has been discovered that Alric has been giving information to the snake clan of the swamps and the alligators to the west. A direct treason, and a severe breach of the Covenant of Loyalty."
Varric stood motionless, the report creating a dense stillness around him. Alric was a well-established member of the clan. Have I been too lax? Is my rule no longer respected by the young? His mind, which usually processed strategic threats with cold calculation, was clouded by a more insidious worry: Is the clan's instability something that could harm Ardyn? Will my lack of control make me incapable of keeping her safe?
He allowed the cold fury to push the fear aside. A slow, chilling smile creased his lips, a predatory expression that rarely graced his features.
"Bring Alric to the audience chamber immediately. I wish to address this disrespect personally."
"Yes, My Lord." Marcus bowed low, even as a cold chill ran down his spine. He knew his lord all too well. Varric's quiet command was far more terrifying than any bellow of rage.
Varric turned toward the entrance to the audience chamber. In that same moment, a ripple of shadow solidified, and Elsa, his teacher, stepped out of the blackness beside him. He rolled his eyes, a flicker of genuine annoyance crossing his face. He absolutely hated that she could violate the spatial boundary of his command center and sneak up on him without warning.
"Teacher. I came to speak to you earlier, but I will come to you after—"
She cut him off, her ancient, reptilian eyes holding his gaze, and he stopped mid-step, his body compelled by her command.
"I just came from little Ardyn." She sucked her teeth, a sound of profound disapproval. "You really know nothing about humans, do you? You handle devotion like a weapon. Don't worry, I gave her what she needed. Bring her to your side. Allow her to see the Great Serpent Lord at work. After, come to me, alone. There are things I need to show you about what you have claimed."
He felt the spatial displacement of her exit, the shadow reabsorbing her, before he even looked up. Gave her what she needed? Things I need to see? He knew she rarely acted without a massive, complicated agenda, but what had Elsa seen in Ardyn's brief time in his care that warranted this intervention? His heart constricted—a physical tightening of his coiled, scaled abdomen—as he disappeared from the spot, propelled by a mix of confusion and fierce concern.
[Cave Shadow Step]
He reappeared instantly in her caves. His heart fluttered when he heard her sing. It was a simple, fragile human song, a lullaby perhaps, and the sound was so achingly tender it brought him to a halt. He paused and just watched her for a moment.
She seemed so delicate, so utterly happy, so very, very beautiful. Her genuine joy seemed to fill the sterile air of her cave system, and he found himself desperate to memorize this song she sang, this pure, unburdened sound.
It took a long moment for his highly advanced mind to register that she was not just singing, but that she was working—arranging the new textiles and preparing the strange human spices Elsa had provided. He noted the new, soft clothes. He nodded, acknowledging the changes. Elsa had provided well, yet still managed to complicate his life.
He stepped forward, his footsteps cushioned by the floor's inherent magic, and spoke softly, mindful of her fragility.
"Ardyn? Elsa told me she spoke with you."
She had spun around with a brilliant smile, but then something dark and guarded passed over her expression when she registered the full import of his words. He frowned instantly; he would definitely be seeing his master later, and he would be demanding answers.
"Come. She feels you should watch me handle Clan business. I need you with me."
She perked up at the direct request for her presence.
"I am sorry for not responding quickly, My Lord. I would be very glad to see you handle your duties."
Her smile, as usual, was mesmerizing, a beacon of pure light in his shadowed life, and he couldn't help but respond with a strained smile of his own. He moved toward her, but as he did, her smile dropped. He froze instantly, his broad, taut, scaled back rolling with tense muscles. A new, sharp frown etched onto his face.
Ardyn's eyes were on the ground as she spoke, an odd ache in her back reminding her of old wounds, the physical memory of past subjugation. She swallowed hard and did what she always did: stormed full speed ahead to do what she felt was right, consequences be damned.
She cleared her throat, forcing the small, trembling sound out. "You have been so incredibly kind to me. I never thought I would ever see the things you have shown me. To be honest, I never even knew that they existed, but you are a Lord, and I am…" Her small shoulders rose and fell at her lack of a word, her fragile human form shrinking under the weight of her self-judgment.
"I will serve you, always, to the best of my ability, but you deserve better. You deserve more."
Her trembling arms extended out to him. His gaze was frozen for a long moment, not wanting to leave her small, delicate face, as if he thought doing so would cause something catastrophic to happen to her. He finally looked to her hands to see the small cluster of magical flowers and moonpetal gems, all things he had given her. He sighed, the breath a deep, heavy sound.
"Those are yours. I gave them to you. You said I was your lord, so I command you to keep them. We will talk about your worth, or rather, your pricelessness, later. Come, I need to see to a matter of state."
She clutched the flowers and moonpetal gems to her body as if losing them would be the equivalent of her losing her entire identity, and maybe even something she could never quite explain. He made mental note of this need for absolute possession as a soft amethyst pouch appeared suspended before her.
"Use that to keep your things in. It is an Everwear Bag. It is similar to a storage bag, but you can place living things and fresh food in it as well. Your flowers will stay fresh even if you take them from the caves, and they will be there for you, just as they are now, whenever you want them."
She smiled broadly, her eyes bright with a wonder that erased all the fear. She hung the bag across her chest. All of her things went inside it with just a thought. Her eyes went wide as he gently placed a clawed, scaled hand on her shoulder—an act that felt like a shocking intimacy—and they vanished.
[Cave Shadow Step]
They appeared instantly before his great black and silver marble throne. The Audience Chamber was a vast, towering space, the air heavy with latent magical potential and the history of the Serpent Clan's rule. He looked to a small corner to the right of the throne, and a small chaise with thick, velvet cushions and silk pillows appeared from nothing.
"Sit here. If you get hungry, merely think of what you want to eat, and the magic of the dais will grant you your needs."
She looked hesitant, her eyes darting between the soft chair and the hard, unyielding stone of the vast chamber. He frowned, then sighed heavily, his patience dangerously thin. "I command it, precious one. You will know comfort and excess while with me, and you will learn to accept the value I place on you."
A phantom kiss brushed her cheek—a mere sensation caused by the spatial ripple of his command—and she felt her face go hot as she sat down. He smiled faintly, pleased by her reaction, if not a bit perplexed; he had much to speak to his master about. He took his seat on the throne, his tail coiled around him, the silver in his scales twinkling lightly.
His mind drifted, but only within thoughts of her. Was she damaged somehow? Had someone hurt her? What did Elsa know about her past?
The more he thought about her self-deprecation, the more desperate he became to know, to understand, and to repair any and all emotional damage. And he wanted to hurt—to utterly annihilate—whoever made her this way, whoever made her feel less than his treasure. His blood was boiling, the latent rage of his monstrous form rising to the surface, as Marcus entered the audience room with two other snake kin at his side and one before them all.
Alric.
He looked cocky, self-assured, and thoroughly unimpressed by the formality of the chamber. Varric's eyes narrowed, his silver scales beginning to pulse with a low, threatening internal light. They reached the mark, and Alric stood in blatant defiance, refusing to kneel or even bow. Marcus stepped forward, his red tail with yellow marks lashing out, elongated, and struck Alric hard behind his knees.
Alric fell to the ground with a grunt, and Marcus made sure his face was pressed hard into the ancient marble, his strength immense.
"You will show Our Lord respect," Marcus hissed, his concern replaced by cold fury.
Alric said nothing but struggled weakly under Marcus' pressure, his pride refusing to break.
"Enough, Marcus. Let him speak. Alric, are the allegations against you true?" Varric's voice was dangerously calm, low enough that only the most highly-attuned hearing could detect the raw power barely contained beneath it.
Alric scoffed, the sound grating against the silence. Before he could get the arrogance fully from his throat, black and silver smoke erupted from the dais, and Varric was instantly in his full serpent form. The change was a brutal, terrifying expansion—a flash of light and the grinding sound of bone and scale reforming as his body grew to twice its size.
His primal intent rolled forward, a physical wave of pure, condensed power focused entirely on Alric. Alric's face was slammed back into the marble floor, bone cracking along with the ancient stone as he sputtered at an attempt to apologize.
"I asked if they were true!" The entire audience chamber trembled as Varric's incandescent anger flooded the space.
Alric's massive yellow snake kin form seemed to compress under the unimaginable pressure. "I... Am… no… longer… of… this… clan."
The words were forced from his caving chest, but still said with a flicker of stubborn pride.
Varric rose, his magnificent, coiled body motionless as his head reached high above them, his enormous, ancient eyes fixed only on the traitor.
He had forgotten about Ardyn. He had forgotten about his desperate need to protect her and show her that she had worth. He had forgotten all except the one who disrespected him.
Little did he know, but Ardyn sat, her small human fist clenched, her eyes narrowed in fierce fury. She sat listening, not in fear of Varric, but wondering who would have the audacity to disrespect her lord.
Courage swelled in her chest, replacing the phantom ache of her old wounds, as she too focused every ounce of her small, fragile will on this disrespectful entity. Her protective, defiant strength, though unseen, was an anchor for Varric's wild, spiraling rage.
And Elsa smiled, as she watched it all from her unseen vantage point, amusement flowing through her like a slow, dark river. She understood the unbreakable bond already formed between these two.
Love had bloomed within the frigid heart of the powerful and the self-condemned soul of the broken. Ardyn and Varric seemed to be destined to be, and she would make sure that they did not ruin their own destiny with their stubborn pride.