Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Why Horizon was the one to bring him his mail most of the time, Varric wasn’t sure. She was one of Nightingale’s people, acting like she worked for Ruffles; maybe a lot of people couldn’t tell the difference, but he could. He wondered if having a spy interact with him so often was Leliana’s way of keeping tabs on him.

 “A letter for you, Lord Varric,” the girl said by way of a greeting.

He groaned, both at the name and at the idea of the letter. “If it’s another summons to a Merchants’ Guild meeting, please just add it to the kindling box. If it’s a bill, you can put it on the table.”

“Uh... no, messere. It’s from Tevinter. Magister Tilani.”

“Mae wrote? Oh, I’ll look at that one, thanks.” Varric accepted the letter and broke the seal.

My dear Varric,

I’m so fascinated by the things you tell me about your Inquisition! You have such grand adventures. And yes, I did respond to your Commander Cullen’s assistance with a token of my appreciation. Dorian has told me that the man is exceptionally attractive, although also taken.

Speaking of Dorian, he writes almost as glowingly of your fair Inquisitor as you yourself do. I know you’ve known Bethany for a long time and that she’s very dear to you; I can only imagine how she finds the courage to face things every day, based on what you’ve told me about everything she’s endured. I’m sure she’s grateful to have you, in any event. Of course, we all are, sweet, but I daresay she has more reason than most.

You should do something for her, I think. Something to lift her spirits, perhaps remind her that she’s less alone than she probably sometimes feels. No matter how much we are loved by the people around us, when we’re grieving a deeply personal loss, it’s easy to forget that and to feel like we’re alone in our pain. I think you understand that as well as I do. So a little something special, before you set off on your jaunt into the wilds or wherever you’re going, would be just the thing.

Hopefully this letter finds you before you go. Please be careful, and do write me again when you get the chance, to let me know you’re in one piece. And in the meantime, take good care of your precious girl. You won’t find another one like her.

Love, Mae

Varric rolled his eyes in amusement as he finished reading the note. Trust Mae to try to direct his social life from a few thousand miles away. Ah, he did miss her. He wasn’t completely sure whether ‘your precious girl’ was a reference to his crossbow or his Inquisitor, but he supposed Mae’s sentiment was largely the same either way.

He tapped the scrolled parchment against his lips thoughtfully. That was actually not a bad idea, really – doing something for Bethany. The trek to the Arbor Wilds was practically at hand; all of their allies were on the move and Curly was heading out in a day or so with the Inquisition troops. Leliana’s fastest agents were already on the ground. Add the recent Blackwall business (the Cole business wasn’t common knowledge), plus everything which had already come to pass, and the result was a recipe for a very tense atmosphere in Skyhold. Everything had a sort of arrested feel to it, like they were all waiting for something they weren’t completely sure was going to happen. Doing something to help ease the tension, even for a little while, made a lot of sense.

The only real stumbling block was deciding what to do.

Going anywhere was out of the question. With so much travel as lay immediately before them, there was no time and there were no mounts to be spared. The possibility of, for instance, a night of fine dining in Val Royeaux was therefore not an option. No, it had to be something in Skyhold itself.

Well, when in doubt, play to your strengths, he thought.

“Cabot.”

“Varric.”

“Kind of need a favor.”

“I’m listening.”

Varric sat down at the bar. “I want to clear out the tavern tonight for a private party.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“Just put the word out that you’re closing at seven. It’s a sort of surprise for the Inquisitor.”

Cabot hesitated. “It’s not her birthday, right? Because a lot of people will be a little bit pissed that they didn’t get her anything.”

“No, no, nothing like that.” Varric paused. “Although thanks for the reminder, that is coming up soonish. No, this is just a sort of last hurrah with her pals before we head down to the overgrown forest. You don’t even need to stick around for it, I’m pretty sure we all understand how the tap works. Consider it a night off.”

“I guess I can work with this.”

“You know I’m good for it.”

“And you know I’ll be sending you the bill as soon as I figure out how much you all drink tonight.”

The first objective completed, Varric began to extend invitations to the chosen. Since he was already in the Herald’s Rest, it seemed like the logical place to start. “Tiny, you have plans tonight?”

The Iron Bull raised his horned head and squinted with his lone eye. “No more than usual. You have something in mind, Varric?”

“Wicked Grace here in the tavern. Little surprise for our beloved Inquisitor. You in?”

“Yeah, absolutely. When?”

“I’m thinking around eight. Well after dinner.”

“Works for me. I’ll just... stay here, then.” Bull chuckled.

The first few invitations were simple to offer. Sera was as eager as Bull had been; Dorian got along with just about everybody in the ‘inner circle’ and was perfectly willing; Cole almost didn’t need to be asked, they could just sort of expect him to be there.

He didn’t ask Vivienne, but that was mostly because she was in seclusion for a few days. According to Sunshine, that snowy wyvern heart was supposed to save the life of her darling Duke de Ghislain, but it wasn’t administered in time, or something. Varric didn’t know the specifics, but Duke Bastien had died and Vivienne had requested that she be left alone until it was time to leave for the Wilds. Part of him felt wildly resentful that she was being given this consideration when Bethany had been forced by circumstance to delay her own bereavement. Like so many other things about the whole situation, it was nothing even close to fair. But that wasn’t the Iron Lady’s fault, and he wasn’t about to act as though it was, so he avoided her balcony accordingly.

Solas was a lost cause, and he knew that going in, but he tendered the invitation anyway just to be polite. “You sure we can’t tempt you, Chuckles?”

“The offer is appreciated,” came the reply, “but I really must finish my current reading before we depart for the Arbor Wilds. If the witch is correct about what we may find there, and I have reason to believe she is, then any additional information I can research about the worship of Mythal may be of some assistance.”

There was something just faintly shifty in the elf’s expression as he said this. Varric listened internally; his bullshit meter was vibrating quietly, but it wasn’t a klaxon sort of clanging like he’d had, for example, when they first met Alexius. Whatever secret Solas was keeping, it could be safely ignored, at least for the time being. “Well, suit yourself.”

The real challenge, he realized as he made his way outside, was going to be Blackwall. Sure, he’d been formally pardoned by ‘the boss,’ as Bull called Bethany, and he continued to fight as one of them. But while no one outright objected to the Inquisitor’s judgment, not everyone was exactly thrilled with it. Cullen and Cassandra, for example, barely acknowledged the man’s existence anymore. Varric thought this was a bit unfair – as Dorian had pointed out to Bethany when she was agonizing over what to do, none of them really had unblemished pasts. In particular, Curly seemed to be on a permanent crusade to atone for whatever wrongs he had committed back in Kirkwall, or wherever, so it was kind of a surprise that he would be so reluctant to show Blackwall the same courtesy. Curly’s anger was of a calmer and quieter sort, however; he might just need time. The Seeker, on the other hand, was white-hot about her indignance, and although she said she would tolerate him for the sake of the Inquisition’s goals, her manners indicated otherwise.

(Of course, he could only guess at anyone’s reasoning. It wasn’t as though most of his friends had actually sat down with him and explained why they felt the way they did; only Bethany ever really did that, or – much more rarely – Dorian. For the rest, he was left with a writer’s speculation and the occasional hint from Cole.)

The once and future Warden was chopping firewood near the lower bailey’s well, and Varric approached him slowly, like he was a druffalo calf known to startle easily. Maybe this would go better if he’d thought to bring some sugar cubes. “For what it’s worth,” he said as he got close enough to be heard, “I think maybe I was too hard on you.”

“Oh, so you don't think I'm dreadful now?” The other man looked puzzled, and only slightly suspicious.

“Actually, I thought you were boring before,” Varric corrected him. “Completely different. We're all dreadful. Every one of us, fundamentally flawed in a hundred different ways – well, all of us except the Inquisitor, of course.”

“Of course.” Blackwall actually managed to sound a little amused.

“That's why we're here, isn't it? Take all the risks, so the good people stay home where it's safe. With the whole ‘Blackwall’ thing, you told a story so compelling, even you started to believe it.”

“Well, that’s much nicer than saying ‘You’re a dirty liar.’ I’ll take it.”

Varric shrugged. “A storyteller’s got to believe his own story, or no one will.”

“So is that what you came down here to tell me? That I’m not boring?” Blackwall leaned on the handle of the axe, watching him.

“That, and also to ask you how you’d feel about joining some of us for a game of Wicked Grace tonight.” Varric hesitated. “It’s supposed to be a gathering of Sunshine’s closest friends, before we go marching off to war, but all things considered...”

“All things considered, it’s probably a very good idea – and my staying away is also a very good idea.” In all the months he’d known the man, Varric had never him speak in a humbler tone than the one he was using now, and that was saying something. “I know you mean well by asking me. I appreciate it more than I can say. But I won’t ask the lady to choose between her friends.”

“Yeah, I... yeah. You’re right.”

“Thank you anyway.”

“Well, thank you for not putting her in that position.”

“I’ve great admiration for the Lady Inquisitor. That’s never changed.” Blackwall shrugged, and hefted the axe again. “She’s an honorable, principled woman, and we – and you – are lucky to have her.”

“Why does everyone keep telling me that as if I don’t know?” Varric chuckled, thinking of Mae’s letter. “I’ll let you get back to it.”

Leliana no; Josephine yes. Cassandra yes, once she confirmed that Blackwall was a no. Cullen yes, if somewhat reluctantly. All in all, the turnout was slated to be good. The only thing left was to find Her Sunny Worship and get her to join the party.

It was nearly time to start when he finally located her, out in the castle courtyard. He wasn’t entirely sure whether she’d been talking to Morrigan or meditating in the little chantry; both, maybe, though obviously not at the same time. Whichever was the case, Bethany was crossing the courtyard in the direction of the great hall, and a small smile broke over her features when she caught sight of him.

“There you are,” Varric said with a grin. “We almost had to start without you.”

“Who’s we? And start what?”

He said nothing, just motioned for her to follow him. She trailed behind him as he made his way to the tavern; Cabot, he saw, was as good as his word. No one was present except those he had invited, although by the look of things, Buttercup had gotten too far into her tankard already and was asleep under the table. “I found her, Ruffles,” Varric called. “Deal us in.”

Bethany’s eyes grew wide as she took in the scene and realized just what Varric had planned. “Wicked Grace with my friends in a tavern,” she said, softly. “I don’t think I’ve played Wicked Grace with friends in a tavern since... since before I went to the Circle. Oh, Varric...” One soft hand curled itself over her mouth.

It was true, and he hadn’t even realized it when he came up with the idea. He had just been thinking it would be nice – the significance of the event had never crossed his mind. He certainly didn’t expect to see tiny jewels of tears in the corners of her big brown eyes. Giving himself a little shake, he offered her a charming smile. “Just a little something before we all drag ourselves off into the wilderness. Have a seat, Sunshine, I’ll get you a drink.”

Bull sat at one end of the table, Cassandra at the other. Bethany took the empty seat next to Josephine, nodding at each of her companions in turn, and accepted the cards she’d been dealt. As Varric filled a mug for her, and then one for himself, he watched her study the cards and laugh at something Dorian said. In his mind, unbidden, he could see a stained table in a creaky, smelly watering hole, with a black-haired rogue holding court and flanked by his brother and sister. They’d all been so much younger, then. The whole world had been younger.

“I really shouldn’t have let Cullen bet his armor,” Bethany noted idly, later.

The card game had lasted for a good four hours, with storytelling and laughter padding each hand, and the ale flowed freely. Some of it, apparently, had gone to the commander’s head. It was the only reason Varric could imagine for why he’d bet his entire ensemble against whatever had been in Josephine’s hand.

“Give him credit where credit’s due,” the dwarf remarked. “He didn’t try to weasel out of it once he knew he’d lost.”

“True.” The evening had ended when everyone at the table (except for a thoroughly amused Iron Bull) had turned away in order to not watch Cullen’s bare ass bolt out of the tavern like it was on fire. The rest of the group had then wandered off in the direction of sleeping quarters, not necessarily their own; only Bethany and Varric remained conversing at the fire. “I’m sure Josephine will see that his things are returned to him,” Bethany added.

“Probably. Ruffles is a lady. So... how are you feeling about everything, Sunshine? You ready to take on whatever’s waiting for us in the wilds?”

“I suppose I’m as ready as I can be, all things considered.” She sighed. “Though I do wonder what comes afterward. You know, assuming we win the day and everything. How do I...”

Varric frowned slightly when she paused. “Go on.”

“How do I go back to being just – well, me? I’ve been the Herald and the Inquisitor for months now. I’m not sure I remember what it’s like to be just Bethany Hawke anymore, especially since I’m... what’s the phrase? The last of the kettle?”

It took him a few seconds to understand her meaning, but then he remembered that a kettle was the formal name for a group of hawks. “You know,” he said, “I think when this is all over, you should take a break. Go to Val Royeaux for a week or two and spend some time shopping. Get yourself a few of those dresses you always said you wanted.”

Bethany brightened somewhat at the suggestion, and giggled. “Perhaps they’ll have a burlap sack in my size.”

“Anything’s possible. You could start a new trend.” Varric chuckled. “I’ll even finance the trip, if need be. My publisher should be making good on the Orlesian book sales, now that I’ve sent my editor to ‘negotiate.’ Val Royeaux’s a little frilly for my tastes, but I could stand to walk down a city street like a normal tourist. Just promise to protect me from any autograph hounds.”

“You’ve got a deal.” Her smile was a bit lopsided. “How do you always know how to make me feel better?”

“It’s a talent. Carefully cultivated and honed over years of experience.”

“Well, I’m very lucky you put so much effort into it, and I’ll always try to return the favor.” She looked as though she wanted to say something else, but instead she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Good night, Varric. Thank you.”

“Any time, Sunshine,” he promised. “Any time.”