"Remind me why we're here again?"

Varric sighs, plucking an apple from a nearby stall and tossing it to me. "Because something has to put a smile on Sparkler. Whatever happened yesterday hit him hard."

I cross my arms, biting into the apple. "I'm not telling you."

"Did I ask?" Varric raises a brow at me.

"No, I'm just saying. Now, why don't we go make bets on how many nugs feet the blacksmith can fit in his mouth?"

Varric agrees, and we make our way through the bustling crowds of Redcliffe, all having gathered for the Harvest Festival. Market stalls fill every spare patch of grass, merchants peddling wares from trinkets to the year's harvest, including fruits, vegetables, and herbs gathered from the nearby forest.

We pass Bull and Dorian, leaning against the tavern, deep in some drunken conversation. All that matters, though, is the smile on Dorian's face. Varric certainly had a point: meeting his father hit Dorian hard.

But six mugs of Ferelden beer and one festival later, he seemed to be doing just fine.

Under the largest oak tree in the town center, two troughs are set up, a crowd having gathered around to place bets on the nug feet contest. Varric lays down five sovereigns on the Blacksmith, while I champion the barkeep.

Sitting on one of the gathered benches to watch events unfold, I cant my gaze towards Varric. "Have you heard from Hawke?"

He sighs, but nods. "Yeah, she made it to Weisshaupt before the first frost; winter moves in faster up there. From what I could make of Scout's letter, Fenris is joining her, too."

"And is she doing alright?"

Varric contemplates the men in front of us as they begin stuffing nug feet into their mouths. "You wouldn't know it, but the whole thing with the Wardens? It consumed her. She blamed herself for Corypheus' appearance, too. I just hope...I hope the girl found some peace after the Fade."

"I'm sure she has." I assure him, laying a hand on his shoulder. The barkeep and blacksmith are each up to seven nug feet now, and show no signs of stopping.

"Can I ask you a question?" Varric tents his fingers in front of his mouth.

"Of course."

"You and Curly?"

Despite the blush that threatens my cheeks, I nod. "Yeah. I thought you knew already?"

He rolls his eyes. "Hollyn, all of Skyhold knows there's something. What I'm asking is if that something means anything. He stole you away for almost three days, the two of you riding out ahead of us all. I dare you to tell me it wa merely nothing."

"Why do you care?"

"I want to know my friend is taken care of like she deserves. Did the same thing when Hawke and Fenris got serious."

Despite a full understanding of his meaning, I feel a bit wounded when compared to the Champion. "I'm not Hawke."

Varric smiles at me. "You don't have to be. I'm interested in you, no matter your name. Now, answer the damn question."

"Maker, you're almost as bad a Serina." I laugh. "He just... He though I could use a break from all of that 'Inquisitor' stuff, before I headed to the Emerald Graves."

The men have finished their contest, the barkeep winning. Varric grumbles, handing me my well-earned sovereigns as the crowd disperses and we rise.

"You're not going to bug me about it?" I ask as we stroll down the bustling street, pressed close to the docks.

"Nope." He shakes his head. "Anything you want me to know, you'll tell me."

"Thank-you, Varric." I smile, resting a hand on Varric's shoulder as we walk. He barely glances up, both of us evidently appreciative of the companionable silence in the chilly fall evening.

Speaking of Cullen made the lucky coin he gave me weigh all the more heavy in my pocket. Despite having only parted this morning on sweet words before everyone else rose, my heart still feels every mile between us.

His generosity and sentimentality left me to wonder what I could possibly give my Templar in return. My only two sentimental possessions are Brother and Sister, and a warrior would have no use for dual-blade daggers. Maybe I could have a new sword commissioned, or a shield? That feels hollow in comparison, though.

Suddenly, I stop walking. "Varric?"

The dwarf turns. "What? What's wrong?"

"I might need a favor."

"What?"

"Do you think you could get a letter to Clan Lavellan for me? Through your contacts and what not?"

He blinks, confused, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I mean, I could. Why not have Nightingale do it, though?"

"She'd read it, and I'd rather no one else discover the title I possess with the Dalish."

"Oh...fair point." After a once-over, scanning my proposal for head-to-toe, Varric nods. "Alright. Anything for you, Mid."


A/N: Here is the excuse I have for posting such a quick chapter: I have finals this coming week. Two projects, three tests, and ahhhhh. So, I will be taking a break from this - not from writing, but from updating. After this week, I will have a summer! Full of college choices...and jobs...and freelancing...okay not better by much. But more time for this!

I hope y'all understand! Sorry for the 'dear diary' rant, but want you to know why I'm gonna disappear for a week. Anyway, thank-you for reading! Please, tell me what you thought, or maybe what you think she should get Cullen? As of now, I have no idea.