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Hawkeyed

Former Spymaster Leliana observed the dark landscape of Thedas from the highest tower of the Grand Cathedral, leaning against the rough stone banister with a cold pit in her stomach. Her scouts, the rumors, and the evidence could not all be wrong. The Veil was weakening beyond repair.

Even if someone managed to impale the Dread Wolf on a spike, it would all come crumbling down eventually. It was only a question of whether the divide between worlds came down in one swift blow, or slowly dissolved over a hundred years. She wasn't sure which was worse. Maybe it would be better for it all to happen at once. Or maybe a slower integration would allow them to prepare. Too many unknowns.

This alleged 'Hero of Vyrantium' had made quite a name for himself. Multiple monarchies had pledged some variance of support against both the Dread Wolf's plans and the Qunari, thanks to his reputation, negotiation skills, and honeyed tongue. Granted, the Inquisition had begun much of what he now carried. Orlais and Ferelden, at least, had managed to create a fair number of provisioned strongholds where the measurements of the Veil indicated safer harbor, should the worst come to pass. Only time would tell if their efforts were worthwhile.

Her spies had done well, but it was never enough anymore. Rumors spread that Fen'Harel had begun to make his final preparations, but there was no indication of where this intended nexus of destruction could be. Well-kept secrets thrilled Leliana…except when she did not know them.

"What's got you all tied up?" an abrasive accent chimed from above before a figure dropped from the roof into the tower.

Of course she had noticed the city elf's teasing approach; Sera rarely attempted to hide her presence. The other woman, however, clearly had hoped she was being stealthy this time as she pouted at the Nightingale's lack of surprise.

"Any word through Red Jenny?"

"All's pretty quiet. Except. Things are getting twitchy in Nevarra. Oh! An' there's talk of more cult elves movin' about in the Silent Plains. Guess they's fighting over some old city with Wolfie's people."

"That confirms that the Solasans are using the city as a base; however, it still does not answer where he is going. We know his end goal, but only pieces of the how…red lyrium, maybe mind-control, collecting the Orbs, using the eluvians." The redhead frowned. "And now Suledin is pursuing her own methods."

"Why don't you hate him?" Leliana breathed, dodging a blow from her practice partner. Inara twirled her staff expertly with her good arm, circling the archer around the yard of House Pavus.

"What you mean?" the elf breathed.

"He lied to you, took your arm, and is now threatening to destroy everything you spent the past four years protecting."

Leliana took an opportunity to attack, not holding back for her disadvantaged friend. Lavellan held her own for several harsh strikes, but eventually rolled across the frozen dirt to safety.

"I'll not excuse his actions, and I'll never condone his methods. He changed the world in a desperate attempt to save it." She huffed while parrying another wave. "When he awoke from his slumber, he found that his efforts had utterly erased the civilization he so badly wanted to save." She paused to knock away another well-aimed swipe. "Can you imagine the horror?"

After a moment, Leliana finally lowered her staff in a truce with a disbelieving headshake.

"I never understood your fascination with Solas…until I recognized the mask. He only ever let it slip around you."

"I can't imagine why," she giggled nervously as she fought to retain a smile. "To him, I should have been nothing."

"And yet," the Spymaster countered softly, "you were everything to him."

"And it still wasn't enough."

"Why?" Sera chirped, dangling a leg over the railing. "Why does she do it? Just to save some stuck-up elfy she's got the hots for?"

"Something like that," the human sniffed a laugh. "She was able to lead with a clear head for so long through so much. But I fear she will see this new freedom from responsibility as an excuse to become reckless."

"If you're so worried, why'd you leave?"

"Our paths were no longer the same. Dreams are not something I can shoot with an arrow or send spies to investigate. I could do more good here."

The women stood in silence for a time, listening to the waking city below their feet. The night's chill was slowly being replaced by a deceptively glorious day. But Sera finally grew restless with the quiet, showing her disgust by spitting over the banister, probably onto some unsuspecting noble in the courtyard far below.

"This is hogwash!" the elf snarled. "This 'ole thing! Things were supposed to be normal af'er we smacked down Coryfeface, but they just got worse! I want normal!"

"Then why are you here, in the middle of it all?" Leliana cornered her companion slyly, earning a huff of displeasure.

"Can't help it. I blame you lot. Grew me a conscience, I did. Can't just play me old tricks anymore and be happy with that. Can't just stand back and watch the world fall in on itself – it'll fall on me too! Not after all we did. What with Baldy tryin' to bring magic back. Ugh! Gives me the willies it does!"

"You sound like Varric. He never really cared about all these grand adventures before Hawke came along."

"You said Madam Inky's gonna bring the Champion back? How?"

"How do you think?"

"Ugh…" Sera rolled her eyes dramatically, pacing and shaking her arms, as if it would ward off any magic brought on by their conversation. "Speaking of the crossbow-lover though! Word is there's chatter about the Viscount of Kirkwall just up an' leaving. Took ship."

Leliana narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Where?"

"You know 'im. Can never resist a story. Finishin' what he started, I bet."


Varric Tethras – rogue, storyteller, and occasional unwelcome tagalong – anxiously stroked his crossbow as the last hints of the Free Marches disappeared over the horizon.

"Easy, Bianca. We'll be back on land before you know it."

With a self-deprecating eyeroll, the dwarf reached into his bag and pulled out the two letters that had solidified his decision to make this suicide run. Bran wasn't too pleased about being left to run things by himself – at least, that's what he claimed – but reconstruction efforts were going smoothly enough. Seeing the seneschal's face when his viscount announced that he was up-and-leaving was priceless. No one ever pictured Varric Tethras to the rescue. It was time he turned his attention back to the bigger picture. Everything was happening in Tevinter. Or so it seemed. Lavellan was there. Broody was there. Chuckles was there. And Daisy was there…sweet, naïve Daisy.

With a frown, the dwarf looked down at the crumpled pages in his hand – the parchment folded and unfolded, read a dozen times and discarded and read another dozen times.

One was a single-page note from the former Inquisitor – the Herald of Flaming Andraste. It began lightly enough, noting how Leliana had left to nurture her newly independent spy network. Dorian was gaining respect. And the Iron Bull and Zevran were keeping her on her toes. But then, it took a darker turn.

Dreams are no longer mere dreams. There is power and life and another world just waiting to break free. I am so close, Varric! I will find Solas. And I will bring back Hawke, no matter the cost. I promise. She's just out of reach; I can feel it!

His sources had told him enough to get a pretty clear picture. The Inquisitor had forfeited her role. The slave rebels and Solasans proclaimed her as Suledin for her occasionally exaggerated dedication to the elven cause. She was becoming obsessed with her Dreams and the Dread Wolf. He worried that the girl was losing herself. And despite desperately wanting to see Hawke again, Varric was afraid to watch yet another person he cared about slip away.

That brought him to the second letter. All jumbled and frantically written in the heat of the moment. Babbling on about demons, red lyrium, and the great cause of bringing down the Veil and returning the glory of the elven people. Occasional hasty sentences insisted that this letter was a bad idea.

I really don't expect you to understand. After all I did to my clan, you probably think I'm crazy for coming out here to follow some old god. I know I'm doing the right thing for my people…but I thought I was doing the right thing then too! I'm scared, Varric. I don't know what to do. I feel like something bad is about to happen. Creators, guide me.

Merrill. After all this time, the sweet little bloodmage finally came out of the cracks. And with a cry for help, no less. Hawke had tried so hard to help that timid creature, but the closest they ever got to bringing Merrill some peace was after the death of her Keeper and being ostracized from her clan. Helping the alienage folks was the happiest she had ever been. Until that magic call from Fen'Harel got into her head and whisked her away.

Both of these women had only ever needed one thing from him, and it was the most cherished request he had ever received. No coin or power or influence. Just the most simple and precious of gifts.

"I could use a friend."

The viscount leaned against the railing of the ship, willing the wind to take them faster. Varric Tethras had one more story to tell.

"Hold on, ladies. I'm comin'." His eyes wandered back to Lavellan's dainty cursive. I will bring back Hawke. I promise. "Hawke…I'll buy you two drinks on me. Just come back in one piece."