Disclaimer: Varric, Lia and the other characters from the Dragon Age Universe belong to Bioware who are gracious enough to allow me to dabble in their sandbox, for which I am eternally grateful otherwise I would probably need an exorcism to expell all the story ghosts from my head. Please don't call the Coterie on me. I am making no gold off this piece, so I cannot offer them a cut of the proceeds.
You Know You're In Trouble When…
Chapter 1: "…Varric Asks for a Pony"
When Pentaghast had released him after their "conversation" he had staggered out into the pale winter sunlight from the Old Amell estate. Varric squinted into the gray sky a moment, as thin slivers of light barely penetrated the cloud cover, but even with the light dimmed by the coming dusk his eyes watered and stung after having spent hours being interrogated by firelight.
He felt as if days had passed, he felt the age in his bones after reliving years of his life verbatim on the whims of a total stranger… a very powerful and heavily armed total stranger, no less. A gust of wind felt as though it blew right through him as he shivered and purposely made his way to the nearest stairs in order to reach Lowtown.
There had always been a deep unease within Varric whenever he walked Hightown. He had told himself numerous times that it was the nobles and the pretentiousness that pervaded the air, but that had long since faded in the waning months since the Circle had fallen and the Knight Commander had been defeated. There was very little that delineated Hightown from Lowtown anymore and the nobles even seemed to be slightly stooped-shouldered, as if they somehow expected a blow to fall upon them, boxing their ears. He was reluctant to admit that he missed the attitudes of snobbishness and entitlement, instead of the defeated, hollow looks of men and women who had lost more than they thought was possible. The flagstones were cracked and the rubble still remained. No one could be spared to rebuild the Chantry with all the unrest abroad.
At the top of the stairs a little child was singing a song with a little bowl at his feet, the chorus was a simple plea:
"A soal cake, a soal cake, please good mistress a soul cake.
An apple, a pear, a plum, a cherry, any good thing to make us all merry,
A soal cake, a soal cake, please good mistress a soul cake.
One for Peter, two for Paul, three for Him who made us all…."*
The song was a reminder that Satinalia was coming and it would be a mean year in Kirkwall. With no Chantry, there was less help for the poor. There were no longer compassionate sisters ladling soup for the children and the elderly who lacked bread. Children were more openly begging on the streets in whatever corners people refused to chase them from. It had come to the point that they offered to pray for whoever gave them a crust of bread or a little cake to stave off the growling hunger. The nobles in turn humored them, no longer having the sisters to rely on to make supplications on their behalf.
Blondie's clinic in Darktown had died with him and, though space was scarce in the dark corners of the tunnels, no one dared approach the gaping emptiness that had once been a solace to so many, fearing that some magical echoes would find the unwary and bring ill luck. Any other healers had long since abandoned the city for fear of their lives and the vengeance of the Templars who might be left, though Knight Commander Cullen was far more even-handed and reliable than his predecessor. The ill died and pestilence stalked the streets with no way to stem the tide.
"The streets are very dirty, my shoes are very thin.
I have a little pocket to put a penny in.
If you haven't got a penny, a ha' penny will do.
If you haven't got a ha' penny then Maker bless you."
The thin voice continued to trill and Varric managed to fish a silver from his pocket. The sad little clink at the bottom of the bowl told him that it was as empty as the child's stomach probably was and he inwardly cursed that he had no more to give. How many brothers and sisters did the little one leave waiting in the dark for whatever he managed to bring home to feed them?
"Do you know who I am, kid?" Varric queried and the child looked warily at him before slowly nodding his mousey head, "I want you to come see me tomorrow. I will have a job for you then. For now, start heading home. It will start to get dark soon and you won't want to be on these streets then."
At first the kid looked about to question, but then he snatched up the silver and ran down the steps past Varric, not arguing against the dwarf's sage advice. Varric watched him disappear into the shadows of Lowtown. He would worry about what job he would scare up for the kid later, there had to be something safe he could have the boy do without too much bother if he put his mind to it.
Once the kid was gone from view, he returned to the mood of foreboding that had clung to him on leaving his generous hostess. Varric could not help but feel chilled; the Seeker's visit only confirmed the rumors that had been haunting the Coterie for months: war was coming.
A war between the Chantry and the rest of Thedas was looming. Tevinter would take advantage of the unrest to assert its power. The Qunari could also decide that the world was ripe for conquest in the name of the Qun while the lesser nations squabbled. Kirkwall was already weakened and he doubted it could ever be revived. He had initially shrugged off and made light of the coming disasters when he spoke of the "brink of war" to the Seeker, but it only hid the deeper worry that such tidings portended.
The dusty streets of Kirkwall became the cradle of the unrest that threatened to tear the world apart and he had been there at its birth. Hell, one might accuse him of being the midwife that had ushered the mewling bastard into the world and smacked its ass to coax forth the roars of indignation that would come. He knew what role he had played in setting the scenes for the onslaught.
"That is pure vanity, Tethras, and you know it," he heard his other self inwardly chiding, "There had been many hands to contribute to this game of cards: like Bartrand, the Arishok, Knight Commander Meredith, that bitchy Chantry sister who wore too much eye make-up…what was her name…? Even Isabela and Blondie made sizable contributions to the carnage…" He shuddered slightly as the memory of the mage had called forth the memories of the ground quaking when the Kirkwall Chantry erupted.
He sighed, "All you and Hawke had wanted in the beginning was to make some money. He had wanted it to protect his sister from the Circle… even that intention had become an impossible knot in the Deep Roads. Poor Sunshine! At least she is somewhat safe in the arms of the Grey Wardens, far from the political cesspool of Kirkwall that consumed everything that Hawke loved."
It didn't seem fair, considering that he had been with Hawke every step of the way, daring him into almost every action, and Varric had not lost nearly as much as Hawke had in the wake of their successful expedition. He had lost Bartrand… if one could consider that a loss…
"You had losses, Varric. Stop kidding yourself!" the internal voice snapped at him again, "By the end Hawke was your friend, they were all your friends! They were the closest thing you had to a family, more than the pompous, money grubbing windbags that share your blood. You lost everyone that mattered to you in this whole mess! Why deny it now and pretend that it meant nothing to you?"
"Because I am the story teller," Varric muttered aloud in answer, "I am supposed to be on the outside looking in, the observer. If I allow myself to be part of the story… it would be like Bianca all over again. I would never be able to speak it. I would be imprisoned by it. Hawke was my friend and people need to know the important truths under all of my exaggerations. It is how a roguish dwarf like me can protect a Champion. It is my job! It is what I owe!"
"Bullshit!"
The internal voice was surly with all the roiling, pent up emotions that Varric had been keeping at bay and which had drifted to the surface as he had told the story to the Seeker.
Varric shook his head as he stalked into the Hanged Man and stomped toward his apartment up the worn stairs at the back of the tavern, "I need to find new friends to hang out with, spending so much time with myself makes for shitty company!"
He had been so distracted by his internal dialogue that he had almost walked right into the young elven guardswoman that waited at the threshold of his abode. He jumped back just as he was about to make impact and cast startled eyes at the face above the shiny dragon-etched breastplate. It was a face he had come to know well in the past year.
"Ah, well Sparrow!" Varric forced a jovial tone as he walked past her and threw himself into a chair at the head of the table in his dining area, "To what do I owe this lovely diversion!"
The young woman looked confused a moment, seeming baffled by his demeanor, but she offered, "The Guard Captain sent me to check on you. She had heard that you had been arrested by the visiting Seeker and wanted to ensure that you returned home. She stated that if you did not return before nightfall on this day, she would extract you from the Seekers herself. I was just about to leave to report back."
"I'm telling you, Lia, I met a woman that scared the piss out of me nearly as much as Guard Captain Aveline herself! That Seeker must be a distant relative or something, because I can't imagine such a pair would exist without being related." He gave the guardswoman a wry grin as he thought of what would have happened if Aveline had tried to take on the Seeker, Penterghast.
Damn, if he could have sold tickets to that type of brawl then he would have been a wealthy man, with the Coterie receiving their healthy share as well.
He had to admit, though, it warmed something inside of him to know that Aveline would have come through for him if he had been unable to placate the Seeker. She was the last tie and was nearly as devoted to Kirkwall as he. She ran what remained of reputable Kirkwall and he managed the tattered scraps of disreputable Kirkwall. There was no Viscount to run the place, but they managed to keep things grinding on.
Isabela had hopped on her ship and took off for distant cities and sandy shores. She would occasionally send him word and a cask of exotic liquor when it pleased her, teasing that she was keeping her skills keen and her blades keener.
Broody had tagged after the Pilot-Whale Prince, offering to help him train men to retake Starkhaven since neither had any reason to remain in the City of Chains. The chains that had held them were long since broken and it had only been their loyalties that compelled them to remain for as long as they had.
Merrill had gone with Hawke. She was someone for Hawke to look after, like he had his sister for so many years. In a way, Varric assumed, Hawke felt as though she was the one mage he had not failed and had managed to protect. There was that deep seated need in Hawke to protect someone, anyone, but how could you protect people from themselves when they were bent on destruction?
"Are you sure you are alright, Varric?" Lia interrupted his musing, still looking worried.
"Sure, Sparrow, sure, nothing ails me that a pint and a good night of sleep can't fix," he reassured her, though he was not entirely sure himself.
Looking into the concerned eyes, Varric remembered the first time he had seen her. She had been a young girl then with a pair of auburn pony tails at the nape of her neck while she sat, lost in some shadowy hall. It was hard to believe that the calm, gentle, wide-eyed girl he and Hawke had rescued from some old ruins was now the guardswoman standing before him.
Aveline had mentored her well and, though she still seemed slight of frame, she could take down a man twice her size. He once saw her gut a rabid mabari without receiving a scratch. She was capable and precise, much like the Guard Captain who had trained her. Unlike Aveline, however, there was no grittiness to Lia. The caring eyes were always gentle when turned to someone who needed help. Perhaps that is what appealed most to Varric, it soothed something in him.
Varric steepled his fingers beneath his chin and looked at Lia appraisingly for a moment before confessing, "Lia, the Seeker was looking for Hawke."
"The Guard Captain suspected as much, which is why she was concerned. She figured the Seeker wouldn't believe you if you told her the truth."Lia nodded, seeming unsurprised.
"And what is `the truth' as you put it, Sparrow?" Varric countered.
"You don't know where the Champion is. The Seekers want to hunt him down, hoping that executing him might appease some of the religious factions that are threatening to pull Thedas apart." She laid out the facts as she knew them, seeming fairly certain of the validity of what she said.
Varric sighed, "What if I confessed to you, Sparrow, that what you believe to be true is not entirely true?"
Lia crossed her arms and cocked her brow before prompting, "What is the `entire' truth?"
Varric gritted his teeth, "It is true that I do not know where the Champion is, but I might know how to find him."
"Even if that is the case," the guardswoman offered, "this does not change the fact that the Seekers are out to get Hawke…you didn't tell them how to find him, did you?
"Come now, you know me better than that. An old storyteller like me can enthrall an audience until they forgot what they were talking about before I started. What is more, I can use it to extract information that might be useful. I do not believe that the Seekers mean Hawke harm, at least not now, but there are things that the Seeker who interrogated me revealed that worry me. It may be wise to find Hawke." Varric explained this with a helpless spread of his fingers, as if appealing or imploring Lia for understanding.
If he had expected Lia to be surprised or pained by his confession he would have been disappointed. Her expression communicated that she had suspected as much already but had not voiced it. Instead of a reprimand he she quietly inquired, "So, are you going to tell the Guard Captain of your plans?"
"No, because if I did she would insist on coming with me, and I do not even want to consider what would happen if we both left Kirkwall. She will keep the stairs together until I come back." He stated emphatically.
"I have to report in," Lia argued, finally allowing a certain amount of distress to color her words, "and you know that she will ask for details of what you said. I can't lie to my superior. She can see through armor, Varric! Besides, you cannot go alone."
"I don't intend to, Sparrow. You are coming with me! Give a written report to your father to deliver to the Guard Captain in the morning outlining our plans. For now, you are going to be too busy making some arrangements for me," it was curious how he could fall into the old habits of orchestrating an expedition as he had often done with his brother. The words flew forth and Lia listened in stunned silence, "I am going to give Elren some letters that he will need to distribute to some of my contacts…now don't look at me that way, it is nothing illegal. These letters will enable him to have access to a fraction of my assets to keep some of my daily operations open. It will keep things running smoothly on my end of things so that our trusty Guard Captain won't run into unpleasantness from the Coterie if the political situations start to deteriorate before we return."
Finally finding her voice, Lia cut in, "Varric, Guard Captain Aveline will have me drawn and quartered for desertion!"
The dwarf waved off her concern, "No she won't! I will smooth everything over with her when we come back, don't you worry…now, I am going to need fresh horses. Actually could you get me a pony?"
"You want me to get you a pony?" This whole situation suddenly seemed to be like one of those embarrassing dreams Lia had occasionally and she half expected to look down and discover herself suddenly naked.
"Yes, they work better for dwarves," Varric reassured her as he grabbed a stub of charcoal and began to scrawl a list of things she would need to gather for him as he continued to mutter more for himself than for her.
When he finally handed her the yellowed scroll, she scanned it quickly before questioning, "Alright, the pony I can somewhat understand, but why do you need me to get you a cat?"
"I need a cat for the boy to take care of while I am away," Varric offered, as if that would clear up the confusion…which it didn't.
He added, "Your father will need to provide the boy with an allowance in payment for caring for the cat. I will set up the funds for it here. When the boy comes tomorrow I will leave word with Corff at the bar for the lad to see your father in the Alienage."
"You don't like cats, Varric! Why do you suddenly want one when you are leaving and it will require someone to care for it?"
"I think it will be good for my soul,"Varric said this with a strange gravity that baffled Lia before prattling on, "Now get going, Guardswoman Lia! We have to be out of Kirkwall by daybreak or the Guard Captain may catch wind of our plans and that would probably be less than pleasant."
With this he ushered her to the door and closed it behind her so she could get to work and he could begin drafting the letters he would need to send to his contacts and to a usurer friend who could manage the funds.
Varric needed to find Hawke, he knew this with a grim certainty. If Thedas was destined to implode it would be better for his friend to have a dwarf by his side who was handy with a crossbow.
Then again, if Hawke didn't actually need him, then at least he would have the best vantage by which to see the ensuing struggle and what storyteller could resist that?
"That is not why you are going on this insane quest, Varric," the inner voice replied knowingly, "You fear what will happen to Kirkwall if war comes here."
"This pile of rubble is home, but many of these people are here because they have nowhere else to go. I can't help these people, I can't fix these problems, but I know someone who can shake the foundations of the Fade itself. That is the type of person we need right now!"
"Fair enough," the voice acquiesced, "but I do not understand why you need to bring the Sparrow along!"
At this Varric smiled to himself,"She reminds me of someone I once knew!"
*The song lyrics were adapted from the song, "A Soalin'" by Peter, Paul and Mary. It makes reference to an old medieval custom of people paying beggars to pray for the souls of the dead in Purgatory. The beggars would receive small cakes to eat as their fee. (It is believed to be the precursor for "Trick-or-Treating" and also the caroling practices used during Christmas.)
The story was originally supposed to be a one-shot, secret Santa gift for millelibri at the Cheeky Monkeys of Dragon Age writer's board. (This one's for you!)