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Varric tore through the great hall of Skyhold, running as fast as his stature could carry him past the mingling nobility, the traveling merchants, the quiet servants. Something terrible had happened, something truly world-ending and he needed protection before anything happened to him. Years of careful planning and delicate wordplay all came crashing down around him as it all got tossed out the window after one single idle thought.

It wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t be his fault. It wasn’t him, he wasn’t the only one! Besides, he’d tried, he’d tried to break it before and he never could bring himself to do so. An idle thought couldn’t be what broke it, it had to have been one of the others. Which meant they were all in terrible danger. If it all fell apart for him then there was nothing stopping it for anyone else.

He shoved the door to Josephine’s office open, hoping against hope–

Andraste’s tits, here he was.

Varric ran to the Inquisitor for protection, not caring about whatever conversation he and Josephine had at the moment. Except the steps down to the lower level tripped him up and Varric skidded to a stop on his knees, gasping and trying to grasp at Trevelyan’s legs to shield him from the inevitable screams of a swooping feathered Vengeance.

“What’s happened now?” Trevelyan asked.

“I can say his name,” Varric gasped, chest heaving. He thought he’d be more used to running in terror than this but clearly not. Maybe he should go easy on the pies and agree to more time in the field.

“Who’s name?” Josephine asked.

“His… name…” Varric gasped, not wanting to say it. Saying it aloud would mean admitting it, that Merrill’s Deal was broken and now nothing stood to protect him from the demon’s grasp and the Deal he made himself.

Maker’s balls, Trevelyan just stood and waited with his arms crossed and that knowing smirk. Bastard was laughing at him in that Circle mage way.

“You’re going to make me say it!” Varric realized. “Fine! His name is Anders and I can say his name! That demon inside him is Vengeance and I can say that too! Someone broke the Deal Merrill made and Called for him and now we’re all in danger!”

“That demon,” Josephine scowled, glaring at Trevelyan.

“I was protected from it!” Varric cried. “And now that’s gone and there’s nothing keeping it out of Skyhold!”

“Varric, I guarantee you, you are not the reason why Vengeance stays out of Skyhold,” Trevelyan drawled. “Calm down.”

“What Deal is this?” Josephine asked.

Trevelyan summarized the situation before Varric could launch into a story. “Three years ago, in the ruins of the Circle at Dairsmuid, Varric’s friend Merrill made a deal with a demon named Vengeance. The very same Vengeance who earned me and every Circle mage their freedom by starting the Rebellion in Kirkwall. Each would go their separate ways and Vengeance would leave them all be, until one of them Called upon Vengeance by name. Ever since, Varric hasn’t been able to say their names unless he’s telling the demon’s story.”

“And now this Deal is broken,” Josephine said. “Who were the parties involved?”

Varric could see the calculating look in her face, the wheels in her mind turning as she fell back onto contract law. But demons…

…also seemed to follow similar laws. Who were the parties involved. “Aveline Vallen of Kirkwall,” Varric said, naming all of them. “Myself. Merrill Alerion of Kirkwall. Bethany Hawke, last seen in Llomerryn. Admiral Isabela of the Raiders of the Waking Sea. And Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven.”

“Any one of them could have broken the Deal,” Trevelyan mused. “Did all of them know about their part in it?”

“You can bind someone to a demon’s Deal without their knowledge?” Josephine asked.

Trevelyan nodded. There were no powers in the Fade or the world that enforced such Contracts but if the demon were powerful enough they might be capable of maintaining such a Contract even against a mortal’s fragile will.

“Not all,” Varric said. He started laughing hysterically. “Can you imagine Choir Boy agreeing to a Deal like that? Sebastian was obsessed with making Anders pay for what he did when he left, I can’t imagine he’s gotten any better.”

“In that case, Inquisitor, I might have the answer to your situation.” Josephine pulled a missive from her desk, a letter addressing the Inquisition’s armies and calling for aid.

“‘The worst of the mage rebellion is now past,’” Trevelyan said, reading aloud. The look on his face showed the distaste he held for the words that fell from his own lips and the contempt he held for the man who wrote them. “‘However, the mage who started it all, who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall and murdered Grand Cleric Elthina and dozens of the innocent faithful, is still at large. The fanatic Anders must be brought to justice. Though he may no longer be in the city, it is still home to many of his known associates. I thus resolved to invade Kirkwall to locate Anders. But Starkhaven’s annexation of this notoriously troubled city has not proceeded as planned. The city’s resistance opposes me. They forget that I do this for the good of the city and all the Free Marches. As a staunch ally of the Inquisition, I entreat support for this endeavor, that Kirkwall may be brought under control before more innocents are harmed.’ Signed, Sebastian Vael.”

Varric’s blood ran cold. This was it. These right here were the words that broke Merrill’s Deal, opening them all up to Vengeance’s bloody vengeance.

“Summon Leliana and Cullen,” Trevelyan ordered. “Josephine, Varric, both of you join me in the War Room. We need to discuss this.”

They certainly did. Sebastian had declared war on Kirkwall.

“We cannot let him do this!” Josephine cried.

“I agree,” Varric said.

“We cannot have the Inquisition’s forces involved in the wholesale annexation of a sovereign city state!” Josephine insisted.

“Nobody is suggesting that,” Leliana said. “But we can use this to our advantage.”

Trevelyan looked out over the map spread across the table, its multitude of knives and pins stabbed through the map into the wood below. So many holes pocked the map, pins that once stabbed the map of Southern Thedas meticulously drawn on a single massive sheet of druffalo-skin parchment. He could trace the history of the Inquisition’s actions through those holes alone: the assassination attempt against Queen Anora, the strange petty grudge held against Varric by the dwarf Worthy, the dwarves rescued in the Deep Roads from Venatori agents, the Judgments all across Thedas, missions and recruitments and expeditions. Val Royeaux and Haven and Redcliffe and Halamshiral and Adamant were all marked with daggers stabbed into the table, tearing the parchment and ruining the map for any other purpose.

This was a war map.

And now, Starkhaven declared war and expected the Inquisition to stand at their side.

But not this time.

“Anders isn’t even in Kirkwall,” Trevelyan mused. “I have to assume Sebastian suspects this.”

“After Halamshiral there is no ‘suspecting’,” Cullen drawled with a sneer. “You all but declared your allegiance to that demon.”

“And why shouldn’t I?” Trevelyan asked darkly. “If Empress Celene owes her crown to a feathered mage then maybe the next Divine will take us seriously.”

“Enough,” Leliana said. “My agents can infiltrate Prince Sebastian’s circle of advisors. We can prevent him from doing more damage than he already has.”

“And leave Kirkwall conquered by that pious bloodthirsty hypocritical–” Varric found himself unable to continue, too furious at the idea.

“I say we withdraw entirely,” Josephine suggested. “After Haven, no one would blame us. That leaves Prince Sebastian alone with no one to support his cause.”

“Varric?” Trevelyan asked. “You know him best.”

Varric sighed. “Choir Boy spent six years in Kirkwall after the death of his family. He always said he would return to Starkhaven to retake his family’s throne but never did. Not until Anders destroyed the Chantry and Hawke wouldn’t kill him for it. Sebastian’s used to getting his way. The moment something goes wrong he drops everything and storms off like a petulant child. He’s only gotten this far in Kirkwall because nobody’s opposed him yet. Aveline’s using the Guard to keep the civilians safe, that’s her first priority.”

But that meant Kirkwall had no army, not really.

“The Prince is retaliating against anyone who ever harbored Anders,” Cullen said. “Guard Captain Aveline is a competent field-commander. With Inquisition help to keep the civilians protected she could use her militia to break Sebastian’s resolve. If he’s as fragile as Varric claims, he’ll run back to Starkhaven at the first sign of real resistance.”

“You have my permission, Commander,” Trevelyan ordered. “Break the Prince and send him back to his own city. Let him know the Inquisition does not abide tyranny, no matter how benign that tyranny believes itself to be.”

There was a knock at the War Room’s door.

Leliana and Josephine looked at each other in confusion as Trevelyan opened the door. A runner stood there with a basket in both hands. The basket shifted and made muffled noises that almost sounded like a bird?

“I was sent with an odd request.” The runner held out the basket and let it fall open. The bird flew out, a trim black rooster that flapped gracefully onto the war table. He strutted about, flicking his tail and crowing once before clucking and pecking at one of the bright bronze pins that dotted the war table’s map. “I was asked to have this bird sent with any missives to Starkhaven. I’m not sure why.”

“Very well, thank you,” Trevelyan said, closing the door on the runner.

“If that’s a demon I’m killing it right now,” Cullen warned. His hand laid on the hilt of his sword.

“Vengeance is sending a message,” Varric realized. “To Starkhaven.”

“Beware of evil chickens,” Leliana mused. Josephine giggled as Cullen glared.

Trevelyan reached out to the bird and gently stroked the long black feathers of its neck. “Tell me your nature, Spirit,” he commanded.

The bird didn’t seem to answer him. Or maybe Trevelyan heard something in the rooster’s clucking. “It’s possessed by a wisp, nothing more,” he said. “A mage’s warning. ‘Leave me be before I do more than this’, meant for Sebastian.”

“That’s it?” Varric demanded. “Vengeance isn’t going after him with more? Just a chicken? That’s it?!”

Trevelyan looked expectantly at Leliana who sighed. “My spies can get the bird across the Waking Sea. But not into Sebastian’s presence.”

“I’m sure that will be plenty,” Trevelyan praised. “A clever bird like you can do the rest, can’t you? Yes you can.”

The rooster crowed.

“I’ll send men but not that,” Cullen said, pointing at the bird. Then he stormed off muttering about demons and crazy mages.

“I’ll have my spies carry the bird to Kirkwall,” Leliana promised.

Trevelyan nodded and dismissed the War Council. Leliana left carrying the rooster, Josephine trying to reach over to pet its black shining feathers as she followed close behind.

Varric stayed with Trevelyan. “Is that… all?” Varric asked. “A whole possessed rooster as just a warning?”

“I’m sure it will talk to him, drive him mad, the usual,” Trevelyan mused. “After all, what would people say about the Prince of Starkhaven if he dares reveal in public that a chicken has been talking to him? Taunting him? Following him in dreams and in life? Justice is seeing a ruler step down. Vengeance is seeing that same ruler led away in chains as his own people call him mad, a witch, a secret Maleficar consorting with demons. Who else would talk to a bird and claim it talked back?”

Varric shivered in dawning horror. Somewhere below Leliana was handing some agent a possessed chicken with Sebastian’s name on it, meant to destroy the man and everything he held dear from the inside out. But only if Sebastian reacted exactly as Sebastian would, as Varric knew the man’s nature demanded.

“Remind me never to cross Vengeance,” Varric pleaded.

Trevelyan merely smirked in that Circle mage way, that hid just how terribly evil his laughter could really become.