Fancy Meeting You Here
Chapter 2: Broody McDrama Crap
Pol skidded to a stop on the dusty street. He had started for Hightown, Hawke's name being first on his list, but he also had to go to Darktown tonight. He looked up at the sky. The night was young—all the stars weren't even out yet. Better to head to Darktown now, before it got too dark and he risked running into Coterie.
He set off for the clinic in a rush.
"Listen, Buttercup—"
"Buttercup?" Elissa interrupted, eyebrows raised in surprise.
They had moved to a back room at the behest of Varric, who had turned out to only be interested in their stories—at least, that's what he asserted. Alistair still didn't quite trust the dwarf (why did a mere storyteller carry a contraption like Bianca on his back? he was sure he didn't know) but he wasn't worried. He and Elissa could handle themselves.
"Don't mind him," the elf said with a tipsy grin. She'd joined them after they'd moved rooms. The dwarf had introduced her as a Dalish from Ferelden. Varric had introduced them simply as "Elissa and Alistair" but if the girl recognized them, she didn't show it.
"He gives a nickname to almost everyone—except Hawke, for some strange reason."
"With a name like that, a nickname hardly seems necessary," Alistair said, snorting a laugh.
That name had been bandied about a lot already tonight, Alistair noted. The so-called Champion of Kirkwall seemed to be a favorite topic for the charismatic storyteller. Alistair wondered if the man could possibly live up to the legend, and then chuckled at the irony of that, sitting next to the Hero of Ferelden. People talked about her the same way.
"—and an elf named Broody," Merrill was saying. She clapped her hands together all of a sudden and looked at Elissa. "I bet he would have called you Blondie if we didn't already have one in the grou—"
"Let's not talk about Blondie just yet," the dwarf interrupted with a cough and a look.
Alistair cocked his head to the side, about to ask a question, when his wife leaned into him and whispered into his ear.
"I'm having a great time."
Her breath was hot in his ear, and it made all the nerves on his right side tingle. He pulled her close, whispering into her hair. "Good."
They needed this, he realized. It had been far too long since they'd spent time with people simply because they enjoyed their company. It felt good to sit back, spin tales and drink ale with no worries about hidden agendas or political concerns.
"So, tell me," the dwarf put an elbow on the table and leaned forward. "Did you really cure a Dalish tribe of Lycanthropy?"
Alistair smiled to himself as Elissa sat up straight and launched into the tale. "Well, I had to," she said, jerking a thumb at him. "This one managed to get himself bitten . . . it was either cure the clan or watch him turn into a hairy beast."
"Well, harrier," Alistair added on cue, drawing a laugh from the elf. He smiled as Elissa went on with her story, content with the company and the conversation.
Hawke paused before the door and placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Yes. I am."
The deep voice sounded sure. Hawke shrugged and pushed open the door of the Hanged Man, the sounds and smells of the raucous tavern leaking out into the Lowtown air like so much pollution. He held the door open as Fenris crossed the threshold, followed closely by Isabela and then himself.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
Anders winced, hoping the young messenger would get the picture and be on his way. He had just a few adjustments to make to his mixture, and he didn't need any interruptions. Not tonight.
"Anders? I gotta message for ya from Varric—at the Hanged Man. Hello?"
The messenger boy waited a few more moments, fidgeting restlessly, before finally giving a frustrated grunt and running off. Anders risked peeking out of his hiding spot and saw the boy running at a quick pace toward the elevator shaft people used to get to Lowtown.
He contemplated the lad's quick pace: Varric must have paid a pretty penny to warrant that kind of speed. He paused a moment to wonder what the dwarf could want before shaking his head and getting back to work.
No drink was as important as his current task, he decided, putting the boy and his curious behavior out of his mind.
"Barkeep, another round!" Varric barked at the man behind the counter. "There's extra coin in it if you can manage to keep your thumbs out of the pints this time."
The man grumbled at him and turned to fill the glasses. Varric looked around the bar while he waited.
He was starting to get impatient. It was great that Daisy had randomly stopped by, of course, but the elf wouldn't have understood the significance of their guests even if Varric had tried to explain. The Dalish didn't know or care about human royalty.
He needed Blondie. Or Riviani. And of course, Hawke had to show up. If Varric couldn't get the Champion of Kirkwall and the Heroes of Ferelden to sit down and have a drink together tonight he'd consider himself an abject failure in this life and the next.
Anders had talked enough about the Warden Commander for Varric to know not to underestimate the petite woman. To hear the healer tell it, she blazed a trail through Amaranthine, eventually defeating a new breed of darkspawn and landing herself the crown to boot.
As for the King, well . . . if you believed Riviani's stories, she and the King knew each other well. The pirate had always been the type to kiss and tell, and she didn't leave many details to the imagination when she talked about bedding him back when she was in Denerim. Varric had never really believed her stories—Isabela had enough experiences to draw from that she could spin a convincing tale ripe with juicy details. Didn't mean they were true.
At least, not all of them. Some of them he believed. Like the ones where Isabela taught the Queen how to duel. Isabela might lie about who she slept with, but she never lied about a duel. She had a reputation to maintain, after all.
He just wanted to see her face when she saw them. Would she fess up to the lie? Varric doubted it. He had no idea how she might try to spin this, but he wanted to find out.
Just then the front door opened, and Varric's face split into a wide grin.
"Hawke!" Varric shouted excitedly and headed for the trio that had just walked in.
Fenris ignored him completely, his brow furrowed into his customary frown. He stomped toward a table in the middle of the dining room.
"Not now, Varric," Hawke said with a firm shake of his head as he followed in the elf's footsteps. Isabela shrugged at him and followed suit.
Varric slouched in disappointment, and then tensed up as he watched Fenris approach a table with a pretty, red-haired elf. Something in the girl's stature alerted him.
Shit!
Shitshitshit.
A mage and several of his followers appeared, surrounding the elf and the Champion. Fenris's face went from inquisitive to shocked to brutally full of rage before drawing the gigantic sword off his back and lunging at the mage.
I don't have time for this Broody McDrama crap tonight! Varric pulled Bianca from his back and took aim.
So many things were happening at once. It was making Merrill's head spin.
First, she'd showed up for a friendly drink with Varric, only to have him drag her to the back room to have drinks with a couple of Ferelden humans. They seemed nice enough, and Merrill tried to laugh at the right parts of their stories, but she kept feeling like she was missing essential pieces of the puzzle.
The wine didn't help.
Neither did the fact that Varric kept interrupting her! She couldn't understand it. The humans had traded stories with Varric back and forth, all night long, but when Merrill tried to talk he would cough and change the subject before she could even get started.
It was odd, Merrill thought, and not at all like him. He was usually so polite.
But all of that paled in comparison to when the man turned to the woman and said one word before they both leaped up and dashed out of the room.
The word?
Magic.
She stood with a frown and tried to walk a straight line to the door. She had to find out what the hell was going on.
"Hic!"
Even if she did have the hiccups.