Silver Vale
Silver Vale was a small village to the northwest of the Serpent Clan main den and north of the Sunken Plateau.
The large black barked argentum foliis trees with their sparkling silver leaves, greeted Varric and his men when they appeared outside the village gates.
The air, already thin at this elevation, grew impossibly still as the Serpent Lord and his Black Guard materialized from a plume of silent black smoke. The Black Guard—twenty enormous, silent Beast-Kin warriors—moved like polished obsidian, their silver robes shimmering under the silver leaves. Varric, even in his smaller Beast-Kin form, dominated the space. His heavy, powerful footsteps crushed the dry earth under his scaled boots. The argentum foliis, meant to symbolize purity and endurance, seemed to dim in comparison to the sheer, terrifying darkness he exuded.
Varric's smirk held no warmth; it was a cold, cruel expression of judgment. As his power rolled off him in palpable waves, every human within his vicinity paused, gulped, then unceremoniously fell onto their face onto the ground. The very dust of the village feared to touch his boots.
The village leader, a spindly man named Elias, quickly scrambled forward, his forehead pressed to the dirt.
"My Lord Serpent, Sir. We have given…"
"I know what you have given." He paused and cocked his head, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel I would not know if you had not given a sacrifice? Would I not have been here sooner?"
The man coward before him and Varric narrowed his eyes. He raised a dark obsidian throne right there in the main walkway and sat down.
"Bring all the villagers. I have something I need to say."
Varric looked at every person that came before him. He wanted to see if he could glimpsed his beloved in any face, catch her scent, or hints of her aura.
He found no trace of her unique amethyst aura, no lingering wisp of her scent, nothing that suggested this arid, forgotten place had ever known the gentle strength of his mate. The villagers were ordinary, smelling only of smoke, fear, and sweat—all cheap, weak things. His frown deepened into a furrow of profound disappointment and sharpened his resolve. This lack of connection confirmed that Ardyn had been nothing more than a discarded object here, a resource they had used and exploited. The people mistook his frown as him saying they were moving too slowly, and they all scrambled to position themselves within the chosen space.
Varric allowed this fear to build. He needed them terrified, he needed them compliant, and most of all, he needed to be sure that the ones who had laid their filthy hands on his precious Ardyn would pay a price that lasted forever. The injustice of her scars was a physical ache in his soul.
"Your last sacrifice to me has been your best and she will be your last. I will no longer accept sacrifices from the village of Silver Vale.' He paused, waiting to see the reaction – and he was not disappointed. Everyone instantly began wondering what Ardyn had done, some defended her two cursed her name, and the aura of two flared oddly.
One man, a stocky merchant, shouted, "The witch got what she deserved! Good riddance!" and a skinny woman beside him hissed, "She was nothing but trouble!"
These two Varric marked – first, the second pair he watched.
Quiet black threads of magic, thinner than silk yet tougher than steel, wove themselves about the girl and boy and laced directly into their souls. The threads were unseen by human eyes, but the victims felt a sudden, ice-cold pressure deep in their chests—a sharp, existential dread that had no physical cause. The magic was a silent, unbreakable tether, marking them as Varric's property, their spiritual signatures now cataloged for his wrath, to be activated whenever he commanded.
"In the name of Ardyn Stronghood," Varric's voice boomed, amplified to shake the leaves of the argentum foliis trees, "I will forever protect the village of Silver Vale. This I decree on this day, and so it shall be until the end of time. Silver Vale has given me a precious gem—and I thank you for it. Anyone who attempts to harm or enslave anyone from this day forward will face my absolute, eternal retribution."
Quiet black threads of magic wove themselves about the man and woman and laced into their souls, marking them for as long as Varric commanded.
There was stunned silence then – one of the people who had defended Ardyn – someone began to cheer.
Varric narrowed his eyes. This village hid something and he would find out what.
"Would her family like to speak with her? I can bring her here."
There was silence and Varric' facial expressions moved from warm, to confused, to mild anger, and ended at restrained rage.
He cocked his head. "Is Ardyn Stronghood not from Silver Vale?"
"Uumm. Technically no My Lord."
"Technically no."
The village leader nodded slowly as he looked to the two Varric had been watching, his eyes flicked to him and Varric decided tag them just as they slowly began to slip from the crowd. Varric looked to two of his guard and they instantly moved to block the two. The younger female yelped and took two steps back. The older girl grabbed her arm.
"Be still a moment Sonia. We haven't done anything wrong."
The older girl looked to the serpent guards and they saw the slight tremor as she spoke, but her voice was strong and clear.
"It is true that Ardyn is out cousin, but my family really has nothing to do with her. We barely know her. Now… my sister and I must leave."
Varric watched other villagers as they looked down and stepped from foot to foot nervously when she spoke. He signaled his guard to allow them to leave and the two girls rushed away. Varric looked to the village leader.
"Who are those two?"
The village leader swallowed audibly. "They are sisters," the leader stammered, sweat beading on his forehead, "the older is Angelica and the younger is Sonia. They are Ardyn's cousins, My Lord. They live in the village with their mother and father – their father is their uncle."
Varric's silver eyes flashed, recognizing the name Sonia from their first day together. The cousins. The two who would know the most about Ardyn's pain. His restrained rage coiled tighter, turning cold and crystalline. He had let them leave, but the Black Thread of his vengeance was already wrapped around their essence.
He watched the dust settle where they had stood, already planning the silent, efficient methods by which Marcus would track them, uncover their crimes, and bring them back. He had promised Ardyn happiness. That happiness could not begin until the ghosts of her past – the creators of her pain - were eradicated root and stem. He would start by dismantling the lives of the two girls who had fled, and then he would visit the aunt and uncle. He would make them pay for every scar, every tear, every moment of fear his love had endured.
And if the entire family needed to be eradicated so be it. He would not allow an past or future hurt to exist.
His promise to Ardyn was forever etched across both his heart and soul.