Varric Tethras is the best. Dwarf. Ever. Damn BioWare for not making him a love interest!
The Long and Short of It
Prologue
Cassandra Pentergast heard Varric Tethras tell his story, listening to it in full. She had listened to him spin the tale for more than a week now, quizzing him on certain details and conversations of the Champion and her followers. The black haired Seeker stood staring at him as he finished the story. For a breif moment, silence filled the room. The dwarf swallowed, reaching for the mug of ale that her men had brought him earlier. Story-telling is thirsty work, after all.
She studied the dwarf as he sat back in the stone chair, taking in his thick leather duster and fine clothes, the gold necklace at his throat and earrings he wore. Privately, she would admit that he did look a bit awkward without his famous crossbow Bianca strapped on his back. It almost made her smile. The Seeker took in every detail of the blonde dwarf. He looked tired and pale, dark rings beginning to line his eyes. He even sat like he was exhuasted, for all his posturing that he was fine. And her black eyes did not miss how he sometimes played with his left hand, the third finger of his left hand to be specific. He would absently reach for it with his thumb, rolling at the base of that finger as if playing with a ring.
Cassandra suspected that she knew exactly what ring he was missing. Or more likely, hiding.
"So that's the story of Hawke and how it all went down." Varric gave her a flat look, his voice still charming, "Will that be all?"
She didn't answer him right away. The woman walked over to the table, pulled out a chair from the wall of the study, turning so it faced him, and she slowly sat down in it. She leaned back, crossed her legs, gave him an equally flat look in return, and then promptly said, "Liar."
Varric simply arced an eyebrow. "Oh?"
She almost smirked. "Not about everything, oh no, the most well-known parts are told as true as I could ascertain from my 'interveiws' with Prince Vael and Captian Vallen-"
"Aveline?" Varric sat up, his frown deepening. "What have you done with Aveline?"
"Ah? No concern for the good prince?"
"Choir-boy can handle himself with you Chantry lot, now how about you answer my question," Varric said with a forced calm.
"She's fine," Cassandra shrugged. "We saw no need to keep her for further questioning: she was very up-front with all the details she knew. She said that she saw no need to embellish the truth when it was extraordinary on its own." The Seeker smiled sardonically. "And with the testimony of the Prince of Starkhaven matching her story so flawlessly, why would we need to keep her any longer than necessary?"
"But you, Serrah Tethras, are a different story indeed. The Deep Roads, the Quinari business, Meredith, Orsino, and Anders, all the biggest parts, on those pieces of the story, the three of you are in complete agreement." The templar woman leaned forward, fixing him with a look. Only you tell one part of the story very differently.
"According to Aveline Vallen, guard-captian of Kirkwall, and Sebastion Vael, prince of Starkhaven, the Champion did not love the warrior elf, nor the possessed mage as some stories claim. Hawke loved only one person. She was faithful and true to her most beloved friend, her most faithful companion and fiercest defender." Cassandra locked her black eyes with his rust-brown ones. "She loved you, Varric Tethras, and you alone."
He forced himsefl into a joking manner. "We weren't together like that, what would Bianca say?"
"Why lie about this?" she asked.
He swallowed almost imperceptively. Almost. "They saw something that wasn't there-"
"Is it to protect her?"
He shook his head. "We were just friends-"
"Or is it just to protect yourself?" the Seeker said slyly.
He visably stopped himself from snapping something out, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to keep his calm. "I don't know what you're talking about. Where they got such a crazy idea, I'll never know-"
Varric's voice suddenly died in his throat. Cassandra had pulled out a chain from the pouch at her belt. On that chain of delicate silverite was a platinum ring, small and feminine. The metal formed into a graceful knot that cradled small, brilliant diamonds around a slightly larger yellow saphire. The ring he had given Hawke two years ago.
Her wedding ring.
He froze at the sight of it, his eyes wide in shock. She would never have parted with that ring of her own free will. Did they have her? Was she captured? Were they torturing her right now as he told this Chantry woman stories? Panic welled up in him and shot down ruthlessly by his self-control. If he lost it now, he may never see her again. Not to mention, he forced himself to think logically, they would never have kept him for this long without some kind of punishment if they had Hawke. It took effort to find his voice again, a bit longer to temper it to something like normal. "Where did you get that?"
"Clutched in the grip of a half-crazed mage we found on Sundermount a few weeks ago," she answered. The Seeker never took her eyes from his as she asked, "What is this ring to you? And I will know if you lie, dwarf."
Varric closed his eyes in something like pain, turning his head from the sight of Hawke's ring in the hand of the Chantry Seeker. Sebastion had told them. Hell, Aveline was there when he gave it. The jig, it appeared, was up. "It belongs to her. Hawke."
"What is it to you, dwarf?" she asked again, holding it out for him to take.
He took the ring with almost reverant fingers, nimbly undoing the clasp and slipping the jewelry around his neck. The small ring sat in the circle pendant of his own necklace, as if it was cradling it. One hand clutched at the ring as he spoke, his voice soft and low. "This is the ring I gave her when I asked her to be my bride."
Cassandra nodded, settling back in the chair. "Tell me the story. The real story this time."
"Why? You said it yourself, nothing big will change. I told you everything you need to know, why do you need this too?" he asked quietly.
The woman gave him a small smile. "Call it the romantic in me."
"More like by holding me prisoner, you're hoping to draw her out from wherever she is," he muttered bitterly, finishing off the mug of ale.
The Seeker frowned at that. She mentally shook her head, resigned that the dwarf truly did not know where the Champion was. He had come to the estate looking for any clue as to where she was, and from all accounts, she had loved him so dearly that she would never have just abandoned him. Something was going on, something big. But for now..."Just start the story, dwarf."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes closed as he spoke. "Romance, eh? That stuff's for fairytales. So like any good fairytale, lets start it off with tradition. How does that go again? Oh yeah." He cleared his throat, settling back into the uncomfortable chair. "Once upon a time..."