Varric whistled as he walked up the tavern steps. He paused at the second landing as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. The bottom floor was loud and boisterous. Inquisitor Trevalyn had announced his engagement to Lady Josephine Montilyet, and Iron Bull, who never missed an opportunity to celebrate with a drink, had insisted on dragging the companions down to the tavern to toast the happy couple. As the news had circulated, most of Skyhold had shown up to the Tavern to pay the happy couple their respects; and, in some cases, to stay and drink and make merry.

Varric approved. The dark days after Haven still weighed heavily on everyone's mind, and there was nothing like a love story and a little drinking and camaraderie to raise everyone's mood.

He slipped out between toasts to see if he could track down Cole. Cole wasn't there; no doubt he was helping someone's sick cat, or…whatever it was he did. But now that he had decided to become more human, he needed to indulge his human side a little more. Party, have fun.

As his eyes adjusted to the dimness on the second floor, he caught something out of the corner of his eye. Someone drinking. Alone. In the darkest corner of the room.

Varric shrugged. If someone wanted to drink alone, they usually had a good reason. He wasn't about to interrupt them. Until a hand was raised to lift a glass, and Varric caught a flash of white, a glimpse of a white eye wreathed in flame painted on the chest piece of leather armor.

Cassandra.

Cassandra...drinking? Alone?

Varric sighed. He knew he'd have to go check on her, but Cassandra wasn't exactly his most favorite person in the world. In fact, until recently, Cassandra had probably been one of his least favorite people. Having someone interrogate you for hours at a time was not an experience Varric would recommend, and Cassandra had been ruthlessly efficient at it. Not unkind, in her way. When Cassandra had told him she had had every right to torture him, she was being honest. Most Seekers probably would have. But Cassandra had had her own sense of honor, and while the questioning was tiring and exhausting, it was never brutal.

Still, it wasn't the sort of experience that would endear you to anyone.

In the weeks and months since then, he and Cassandra had settled into…well, not liking, but perhaps a slightly contentious peace. They put aside their differences for the good of the Inquisition, but never really attempted to cross paths.

He slowly made his way over to her table. She raised her eyes as she heard him approach, nursing a glass filled with amber colored liquid, a bottle of half-full Antivan brandy on the table.

Varric raised his eyebrows. Half a bottle of Antivan brandy and she was still sitting upright? Impressive.

He plastered a grin on his face and sat down opposite to her. "Ah, Seeker! I was just looking for you. We were about to start a game of Wicked Grace downstairs. I thought you might like to join us. Might give me an opportunity to win more money off of you."

The Seeker looked at him, sourly. "Yes, Varric. Because surely someone drinking by themselves is just waiting for you to come along for an invitation to play cards. Leave me alone." She picked up her glass, and downed the rest of the Antivan Brandy in one swallow, and slowly poured herself another glass.

Her words were unslurred, the only thing betraying her drunkness her too-careful movements.

Varric sighed. Her mood was even worse than he thought.

"All right, Seeker, I'll cut the shit. What's wrong with you?"

He thought she might answer, for a second. She swallowed, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears. But then she turned sour again, mocking.

"Nothing, Varric. I'm not entitled to a drink now and again? You drink yourself shit-faced with Bull every week, and it's all in good fun, but I have a drink or two and something must be wrong?"

She sneered at him, picked up her glass again and downed it in one gulp, shoved her chair back, and got up. It would have been a magnificent exit, had she not spoiled the effect by moving too fast and having to grab onto the table to keep from falling.

"Easy, Seeker, easy!" He moved over to support her and grabbed her waist, which was a mistake. She lurched into him, whether for support or to push him away, he wasn't certain. But the effect of her movement and drunkenness almost made her fall. She went to her knees and only Varric holding her up prevented her from falling entirely.

"Now look what you did!" she shouted, as she lurched to her feet.

Varric struggled to regain some control of the situation. "Look, Seeker, I don't know what's wrong, and you don't have to tell me. But you're letting me walk you to your room. You've had enough."

Cassandra looked like she was about to argue, but surprisingly, after a moment, her shoulders slumped and she acquiesced.

"All right, Varric."

"Come on, then," he said, placing her hand on his shoulder, and walking her over to the steps. "Put your other hand on the railing, and take it slow. And don't fall."

She concentrated, and walked slowly down the steps to the bustling first floor of the tavern.

Josephine and Trevalyn appeared before Varric could get Cassandra out the door.

Trevalyn, his arm around Josephine, inquired, "Leaving so soon?" His white teeth shone out of his blonde, bearded face in a smile.

"Uh, yes," Varric said. "Long day tomorrow. Besides, wanted to save some of the alcohol for everyone else. But congratulations again. We both know you'll be very happy. Isn't that right, Seeker?"

He looked up at Cassandra for confirmation, and in a brief instant, saw a look of longing and despair, before her mask slipped back into place again. "Of course!" she said. "Have a good night and enjoy your celebration!"

As Josephine and Trevalyn moved off, Varric navigated them to the door again.

"So Trevalyn's the problem," Varric said softly as they exited the tavern into the cold night air. "No shame in that, Seeker."

He half expected a hot denial, so was surprised when she only sighed and said, "Don't be a fool, Varric."

The rest of the walk was in silence, her hand gripping his shoulder occasionally for support, especially as they went into the darkened blacksmith, the only light coming from the banked coals of the forge, and up the two flights of stairs to her room.

"Well, here we are," he said as they reached the third floor and he saw her pallet on the floor. He helped support her as she half-fell, half-collapsed on top of her covers.

"Just get some sleep and you'll be as good as new in the morning. Or, with how much you drank, maybe good as new tomorrow evening," he joked.

Varric turned to leave, but stopped as her hand reached out to grab his shoulder again.

He was looking into her face as she was on her knees. He could hardly see her in the dark. Only her rich, dark eyes, wet with tears.

"Varric, please. Don't leave. I'm so…alone."

Her words came out in a whisper, carrying the scent of the brandy she had drunk, a heady smell, mixed with the smell of her leathers and…flowers? Her soap?

He was dazed. Never in a million years would he have thought of the Seeker… but before he could think any further, her lips came brushing against his, feather light, then harder, seeking, her tongue probing his mouth.

She pressed up against him, her hips grinding against his. She murmured, "I've been so alone, so long…please, just for tonight."

Without thinking, he responded, twining his hands in her hair, trailing kisses across her throat, finding a spot along her jaw that made her gasp in pleasure when he used his mouth to suck on it and nip it gently.

Her mouth sought his again, as she kissed him, open-mouthed, her tongue warring with his, while her hands fumbled with the straps on her leathers, and she discarded the hard leather chest piece to the floor.

Varric had a good idea of what kind of man he was. Not perfect, by the Maker, but not the kind to take advantage of a drunk woman. But if he stayed much longer, he was going to end up doing something he would regret.

He broke the kiss, regretfully, and stepped back. Damn, this was one of the harder things he'd ever done.

She used the interruption to quickly shuck her padded undertunic and breast band.

He sucked a breath inward. Maker, but she was beautiful, and his hands itched to touch her, the toned olive skin criss-crossed with silver and pink scars, her but before he could, she moved closer, untying his sash, and grasping on to the bottom of his tunic, her fingernails raking his chest as she moved upward, grazing his nipples, and—

"Damn it, Cassandra, no!" he said, through his teeth, clinging to his feeble threads of self-control, wondering if he was an idiot for refusing what was being so freely offered…but no, he would hate himself in the morning. And she would hate herself.

She recoiled as if he had slapped her. "I…I…I'm sorry, Varric. So sorry." She laid down on her pallet, back to him, curled up in a ball.

He raised his eyes to the ceiling, blessing or cursing the Maker, he wasn't sure anymore, and took a few deep breaths. He was about to turn to leave, again, when he saw her shoulders shaking on the pallet. Just shaking. And then a gulp that sounded like a half-strangled sob.

He wanted to leave. But the same honor that prevented him from taking advantage now prevented him from leaving. Leave a crying woman? He couldn't.

He sighed, got down on his knees, and placed his hand on her back. Her voice cracked as she said, "What, Varric? I'm sorry for everything. You can leave."

"No," he said. He sighed again. He lay down behind her, spooning her, comforting her with his touch. "I'm lonely too. Now go to sleep."

He braced for an argument, but got none. The shuddering gradually subsided, her broken breathing became more regular, as he held her around her waist, pressed against her back, occasionally making reassuring noises as a sob broke through. Eventually her breathing turned even and regular as she fell asleep.

Varric gently rose, and got to his feet, tucking a blanket over top of the sleeping Seeker. "Good night, Cassandra," he whispered, before he turned around and finally left.