[one-shot, before deployment to Cambria]

Ber rediscovered the little box when he was digging through his belongings to find the book that Temperance had loaned him a season ago, which he had since finished, found himself rather surprised by how much he’d enjoyed it, and decided to return to her before it collected any more dust at the bottom of his chest. The box itself was an unintended souvenir from the night that he had Woodwick had spent searching the warehouse at the docks for information about the Amber Lotus. Upon noticing it in his pocket when he’d returned to the barracks, Ber, far more interested in sleep than anything else, had merely tossed it in with the rest of his belongings for later perusal. By the time later arrived, he’d forgotten about it. Until now.

Opening the box revealed a thin, nondescript leather band that wrapped snug around his wrist. He investigated it curiously, noting a little pattern imprinted on one section of the leather, then went about his day with the new accessory. Through sheer dumb luck, he was alone when he idly ran a finger across the pattern and the colors of the world around him suddenly became muted. Alarm jolted through him, but a hasty repetition of the movement set everything back to rights. What the— But the bracelet sat across his wrist as unassuming as ever. In the safety of solitude, he began to fiddle around with it to find out what it did. After a series of low stakes experiments, he thought he knew.

The ultimate test, in Ber’s opinion, was to use it and blatantly break the rules in front of someone who wouldn’t stand for such behavior. There were a hundred different people Ber could think of who would qualify, but as one particular individual crossed his mind, he didn’t see why he couldn’t have some fun while learning the capabilities of his rediscovered belonging.

With the number of people that now crowded its halls, the military wing was rarely silent, but when the light faded from the sky, it did quiet down. The way to the man’s office was - regrettably - a familiar one, but even the anticipation thrumming through his veins didn’t completely eradicate Ber’s sense of caution. Instead of marching through the closed door like he knew he could, he poked his head through and peered around. Just in case.

@warren , as expected, was still seated at his desk with his head bent over a disgustingly large amount of paperwork. His assistant, the sickly kid who had replaced Lady Aveline some time ago, appeared to have gone home for the evening. Still careful, Ber slowly moved forward and properly entered the room, just as the captain shifted in his seat and looked up. Breath catching in his throat, Ber froze - but Woodwick seemed to stare right through him before he stretched, sighed, and went back to work. Well, that was certainly promising.

Bolder now that he knew Woodwick couldn’t see him, he went right over to stand beside other man. A curious glance down at the papers revealed that he was working on something that was, quite frankly, too many words for Ber to even want to attempt to decipher. Reading wasn’t what he was here for anyway.

The soldier waved a hand between Woodwick’s face and his documents. The Captain did not blink.

He raised a hand and hit the man upside the head. The Captain didn’t flinch, though that could’ve been because the soldier’s hand passed right through him.

Finally, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at the top of his lungs, “FUCK YOU!” There was no reaction.

Ber grinned. He could go anywhere with this, and no one would know. Go anywhere, do anything… see anyone.

Woodwick was forgotten as the soldier’s thoughts strayed to a different man, whom he hadn’t seen since they had been separated in the infirmary. The captain commander had told him never to talk to Zevran again, but checking on him, making sure he was okay— that wasn’t talking. Heart thudding, Ber turned and drifted through the wall of Woodwick’s office, where he began moving as quickly as he could through the familiar hallways to the part of the castle where his friend had brought him the night before the ball.

He would just find out once and for all how they had ‘dealt with’ Zevran so the question could stop eating away at him. Make sure he was okay. Maybe reveal himself so Zevran knew that he was okay, too. And maybe also find some way to communicate what had happened so Zevran didn’t think Ber suddenly hated him. Though that probably didn’t count as ending a friendship. Well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it, Ber decided, as he poked his head through the door of Zevran’s room, because he at least wanted to see Zevran and Rune one last—

Oh.

It was as if the Dresmondi and his dyr had never been there at all. Swallowing around the sudden tightness in his throat, Ber took a deep breath and lifted a hand to rub at the hollow ache in his chest. If they weren’t here, where were they? No one had seen them, and he’d heard maybe that— If the king could get Regan to Arynn Frey in a night, then he’d be able to get Zevran back to— But surely, surely they wouldn’t force someone to return to—

No. They put people who were in trouble in the dungeons. Zevran and Rune would have to be there.

With another bracing breath, Ber raced down the long halls to the bowels of the castle where he and Woodwick had interrogated Whitby. Heavy doors and metal bars couldn’t stop him as he checked every cell, with the tattoo of his heart growing increasingly desperate with every strange face or empty interior he saw. He went down the row until reaching the final one, and then—

He just stood there, blinking furiously at the empty cell as he tried to keep his breathing even. It didn’t make sense. He knew Zevran had told them— Didn’t they care that the Eldouir treated them worse than animals in Elderkeep, that returning someone to that place was a death sentence? To send a man back there due to justified anger when they had all provoked him with their cruel humiliation— But Nevermere was going to help Dresmond. They supposed to be the good side.

So why did no one understand that forcing Zevran back to the Eldouir made them no better than the monsters they were trying to defeat?

After some amount of time, he recognized that no amount of staring at an empty cell and wishing for the Dresmondi to appear would bring him back. It was late. He had work tomorrow. He needed to get some sleep and— He didn’t know. Do his best to forget what he’d discovered tonight, maybe. Or at least try to find some way to live with it, because the people who had made these decisions were the ones to whom he couldn’t afford to appear anything less than loyal. As he made his way back to the barracks, the brutal reminder of the truth which he’d somehow forgotten settled like a rock in the pit of his stomach:

They could sing the king’s praises all they wanted, but even in Nevermere, power did not a good man make.