Varric sat with his head down, hands dangling between his knees. Shit, shit, shit, Hawke. Why did you always have to be the hero? He closed his eyes and they were there, running again, and taking directions from a spirit, or a demon, or whatever. Hawke had been laughing the whole time, tears streaming down her face talking about how Fenris would never approve of this and how she was glad he'd stayed home. It'd been nice to be with her again, fight along side her again. Her hair was longer since the last time he'd seen her, but she looked good, looked happy. He sighed and straightened his back against the chair. He needed a drink.

He shuffled down to the lower courtyard and opened the door to the tavern. Bull and Sera were in the corner, talking over some drinks. They called for him to join, but he waved them off. He'd see them eventually, but right now he needed to be alone. He sat at the bar with his head in his hands and stared blankly at his drink. He kept flashing back to their last moments in the fade together. Of her volunteering to stay so they could leave. Alistair saying he'd take her place and the Inquisitor choosing to leave Hawke anyway, something about Alistair's connections with the wardens. But all Varric could think while the Inquisitor justified her choice and Hawke unsheathed her sword was the time they had played Wicked Grace at Hawke's Estate. They'd all been there, even Anders, though he had been scribbling away madly at his Manifesto the entire time. It had been cold outside that night but the fire and Hawke's damned mabari kept Varric plenty warm. Wine was drunk and the night had been filled with their laughter. He could see Merrill giggling at the cards with Aveline and Isabela stealing sips from everyone else's wine cups after she'd finished hers. Could see Fenris' pathetic puppy eyed looks he snuck of Hawke every so often. He could feel the couch beneath him, feel the fire warming his cheeks, hear the crackle of the logs - and suddenly, he was running again, footfalls echoing in the fade around them. The Inquisitor, Alistair, and Bull were ahead of him while his friend stayed behind to clear a path. She looked so small compared to that fucking thing. He turned before they reached the rift and saw Hawke flash him a smile and shout something at him. She laughed and looked to be having the time of her life, which she probably was. He saw the spider rear up and he tried to call out a warning to her as Bull pushed him through. He whirled around after landing on his knees in the real world, pleading to go back, begging the Inquisitor to keep the rift open just for a second. He remembered the Inquisitor's proud face when she sealed it, and left Hawke to die. He heard the cheers afterwards, felt the crowd threaten to swallow him whole as they surged around the her.

He took a swig of his drink and wiped his eyes absently. He knew he'd have to tell Fenris and was dreading it. He would not take it well, hell, he had probably spent days trying to dissuade her from coming in the first place. Shit Hawke. Varric got out a slip of paper and smoothed it out against the bar. He penned one word, Fenris.