He didn't want to see her go.
It was a crazy reality considering where they'd started. And if you'd told him - perhaps while he was getting seasick on the Waking Sea - that one day he'd want to be in the company of Cassandra Pentaghast - well, he'd probably have kept puking his guts out.
But if you'd caught him in a less compromising moment - while they marched clear across Thedas to a conclave he didn't want to go to - that someday the thought of saying goodbye to her would put a tightness in his chest that felt as though he'd been sat upon by a bronto - he'd have told you to lay off the ale; there was something obviously wrong with it.
Even if you'd waited until they were wandering lost in the Hinterlands to mention a future where she might just feel the same way, he might just have mistaken you for a darkspawn and grazed you with a crossbow bolt.
With that colorful history in mind, where they were now made no sense.
Because the truth was - he'd miss her. And the more telling and alarming truth was that sometime in the last two years of rift closing, red lyrium finding, Corypheus hunting chaos - Cassandra Pentaghast had become a person so important to his life that he'd notice if she wasn't there. And he'd miss her.
The mood of the great hall was too celebratory for these melancholy thoughts. They'd defeated Corypheus. The tear in the sky had been sewn shut. The Inquisition had fulfilled its purpose.
And sure, there were always more monsters to slay, but they'd won. And while the crowd celebrated with laughter and ale, he knew he wasn't the only one thinking about what came next. He could see the thoughts in her eyes as she joined him.
The Seeker pulled up a seat beside him at the fire, a tankard of ale in her fist. The drink or the atmosphere or maybe even the company ensured that her face showed exactly what she was feeling. She was smiling, but there was more to it than simple happiness.
He wrapped an arm around the back of her chair, warding off intrusion and enjoying the stolen closeness. "So how are you feeling?"
His sources, as well as Leliana herself, had confirmed that the new Divine had been chosen. And for better or worse, it wasn't Cassandra.
They'd talked about this possibility. He knew her feelings on becoming Divine were complicated. Now the decision was made.
He felt her relax her strict posture some at the contact of his arm. The cloud in her eyes cleared slightly. "I feel relieved."
That name felt right for his emotions, too. She would have been good at it - he'd told her so. But he was glad the burden wouldn't be asked of her. She'd have been quick to shoulder it, but he feared, quick to wear down under it. The job had a murky nuance to it, and though she was a wise woman, the many selfish agendas in play were sure to frustrate his Seeker.
After all, she'd looked more at home fighting a bear than in Halamshiral, and her capacity for political intrigue was evidenced in her losing streak at Wicked Grace. He thought they'd both be happier without the Sunburst Throne between them.
His Seeker.
When it caught up to him, he was startled by the thought. She belonged to no one, of course; the very idea of her permitting that was absurd. But Varric recognized the incriminating phrase for what it was.
It spoke of real fondness. It made her title sound more like the nickname it had become when he said it. The "pet name," Dorian might have teased. And he wouldn't have been entirely wrong.
Cassandra's voice drew him back from his own thoughts. "I feel relieved. And ashamed of that relief."
"You have nothing to be ashamed of. It's okay that what you wanted changed." Once she had dreamed of taking the position, of using it to inspire change. But he'd watched those dreams shift. He smiled at her. "And it's okay to get what you want every once in a while."
Her lips quirked up in a wry smile, but she ignored his tease. "Leliana will do a fine job. We would have gone about things differently, but I trust her to work toward good change. Her faith has been reforged."
"She's the sort of Divine that could really inspire people."
Their resident spymaster had a past as checkered as any rogue he'd ever met. When they'd first met, directly after the tragedy of the conclave, it was clear her faith had taken a hit. But Cassandra was right. Reforged was a good word for it.
The Seeker made a sound that was merely a toned down version of her usual disgusted noise. "I suppose."
Varric tried not to laugh at her apparent annoyance, unintentional as it likely was. "You would have, too, Seeker; I don't mean that," he appeased. "But Nightingale lost her faith for a time. It was broken, and it's been remade. That's an image I can get behind. People like me can find hope in that."
Her voice turned curious. "Do you?"
Though a child of stone by birth, he identified as a self-taught Andrastian. A lukewarm Andrastian most of the time. The contention within the Chantry had never made him aspire to religion. But the story was compelling.
"Yeah. I know you've had your own struggles in this mess, but a crisis of faith hasn't been one of them. That speaks of tremendous courage and strength." She looked annoyed again, even as a blush rose in her cheeks. She hated accepting compliments - especially ones as unfounded as she'd claim this was. He went on anyway. "It would inspire loyalty and respect. It does."
Cassandra was quiet a moment. "I have been … broken in other ways," she settled on. "But it is true I did not lose my faith in the way Leliana did. I cannot be that example."
It was that humility that would have made her a fantastic Divine. And he found himself thanking the Maker that she wasn't.
He hadn't lied to her for a long time, but he decided to be completely honest now. "I may have a chance at a faith that resembles Leliana's, but you're the reason that chance exists."
Her eyes went wide. "Is that true, Varric?"
"Divine or not, your steadfast faith is inspiring."
Her hand found his, and she squeezed it tightly. "Thank you for saying that."
The Seeker was really a very tactile person, he'd been delighted to learn. The new level of comfort they'd achieved with each other often had her reaching for his hand over the table or leaning into him as they sat before the fire.
She was doing both right now, and he kept hold of her hand even as the conversation drifted on.
"So what comes next? You won't be sitting on the Sunburst Throne. You can do whatever you want."
He said it casually, as if it was the product of mild curiosity or polite conversation, not a question he'd been asking himself since before the Inquisition stood a chance of a happy ending. He wondered if she could tell.
Cassandra sighed, a sound of relief. He knew she'd been putting off this question in case she wasn't the one who got to answer it. "I would like to stay with the Inquisition. For as long as it is needed and for as long as the Inquisitor will have me."
Varric, too, felt like sighing in relief. "We'll be seeing more of each other then. I was thinking the same thing." The goodbye he dreaded would be deferred.
Her voice was droll when she said, "Can you handle more time in my presence?"
That was another thing that had changed sometime in their Inquisition years. Once they did nothing but anger each other. Now there were jokes on both sides, true humor, and a tenderness that still managed to catch him off guard.
"I've grown used to you, Seeker," he reassured her. Like a fungus went unsaid.
Things had changed between them - obviously since he now ran the risk of missing her.
In truth, that initial change hadn't really taken too long. There was some lingering animosity those first few months, but they'd both recognized the bigger issues the Inquisition faced, and they'd gotten over it. With only a few notable setbacks.
They'd become friends. They started to seek each other out in group settings or during their scant downtime. Together they'd scouted the furthest reaches of Thedas and fought innumerable darkspawn, mages, and templars alike. Outside of the Inquisitor, she became the person at Skyhold who knew him best.
Then Hawke, who knew him best out of anyone, showed up (one of the notable setbacks) and had called him out on what his friendship with the Seeker was becoming.
They'd had to rebuild trust after the Hawke Incident, but none of their new challenges and quests managed to rip them completely apart. In fact, in the last few months, things had changed again.
They'd kissed at Wintersend. A prank of Sera's, a charmed piece of mistletoe, Cassandra's red face, and a kiss on the hand to get them out of it.
But then a kiss on the lips, quick and chaste, that nonetheless undid something in Varric's heart like a door falling open under deft fingers. And things changed.
The world around them was determined to continue changing. They'd have to find their way in it, and the thought of doing so separately was increasingly distasteful.
So he asked. "What about after the Inquisition? It will end someday."
Cassandra took a drink of her ale, contemplating the question. "After, I would like to restore the Seekers of Truth. Not as they were, but as they could be." Her face and voice grew determined in a way he found endearing when it wasn't directed at him. "As they should be. They were meant to help people. They must be made to do that again."
"It's a job you'll do well," he told her, truthful once again. He knew how much she cared for her organization. She recognized its failings, the ways in which it had hurt others. She would do her best to set things right.
She gave him a smile. "It's a job I very much want to do."
"You'll have it sorted out in no time. I'll probably still be working on turning Kirkwall around by the time you turn out your new order."
The Seeker gave a solemn nod, but her eyes were playful. "There is quite a lot to do to improve Kirkwall."
It was a good opening, and her gentle teasing gave him confidence that it might even be welcome. Varric shrugged, the gesture reacquainting them with their close proximity. "Well, once you get your Seekers straightened out, you can always come and help me."
She didn't respond right away, and for one tense moment he thought he'd blown it all, misread something vital. When Cassandra did reply, her tone alerted him to how seriously she took the invitation.
"I would think you wouldn't want me within ten leagues of Kirkwall." That piece of their history would always be there, but he wouldn't let it stop them from looking at a different future. Cassandra raised her eyes from where they had been studying her emptying mug. As always, they gave away her every emotion, and right now they were filled with surprise and, he thought, hope. "You would trust me to help your beloved city?"
Kirkwall was a disaster, something they'd actually agreed on from the beginning. But it was home for him. He'd always been headed back there after this craziness was over. He'd made no secret of it, especially from her since they'd begun speaking candidly. But to hear her talk about it that way - recognizing his affection and dream for his home - it reminded him just how well the Seeker knew him.
He met her eyes and tried to match their openness. "I hope you know by now that I would trust you with everything that matters to me."
And he would. He did. Varric couldn't pinpoint the moment it happened, but the point was it had. Cassandra Pentaghast, who he once considered a threat to everything he loved, had become the greatest protector he could imagine.
She had become someone that he loved.
Her brow furrowed, but it wasn't the look of disgust he was so accustomed with. It was one of deep thought and concentration. This moment of reflection gave way to words that might have been surprising to them both. But they weren't.
"I do know that."
"So you should come and help me fix things."
Kirkwall could use all the help it could get. But that wasn't why he asked. He wanted her there. He didn't want to say goodbye.
It seemed that she hadn't learned how to read his mind in the time since that first interrogation long ago, because she asked the question his heart was busy answering.
"Why?'
He echoed her. "Why?"
She sat up a little straighter, a searching look on her face. "Yes, why?" He caught a flush of embarrassment in her cheeks. "I have … misread things before. If you want me to come, you must tell me why, Varric."
Trust the Seeker to get right down to it.
If you asked him to list his skills, one of the first things he'd admit to was a way with words. An ability that left him now.
The dwarf took a deep breath, steadying the nerves that raced through him like a burst of elfroot potion. He'd faced tougher questions - after all, he'd just been thinking about this answer. But he had to get this right.
"Things have changed," he began slowly. "We haven't hated each other for a long time. We've become friends." She watched him carefully, anxiously. He again covered her hand with his own. "We've become more. Go reform the Seekers. And when you're done, come to Kirkwall."
Varric recognized that he'd have to do better than that. The Seeker wasn't one for subtleties of speech. "I want you to come because I want our lives together to continue. I want us to change a little more. … I want you."
The words sat there for a moment, and the only sounds were that of the party still going on around them. Not that either of them noticed. After an agonizing second, Cassandra asked a question that failed to put his heart at ease.
"What are you saying?"
For someone schooled in romance by his own books, she had no idea when he himself was trying to be romantic. Then again, maybe he was only any good at it on paper. So the rogue took a risk and told her the last truth he'd been hiding.
"I love you, Cassandra."
A small sound escaped the Seeker, devoid of all disgust. "Oh."
His voice took on a teasing tone while she processed that. "There, I said it." He did love to bait her. And this way it would be easier to play off if she didn't feel the same. "Was that clear enough for…"
That thought and half his sentence evaporated as her lips collided with his.
Like their kiss at Wintersend, it took him by surprise. In every other way, it was different - it was more. Their last kiss had been one of curiosity, discovery. This was the kiss of two people who knew what they wanted.
They parted, her forehead bowed against his, their shallow breath mingling. A dazzling smile was on her lips. "That is what I wanted you to say."
He caressed her cheek, gentle with the old scar. He smiled back. "That's what I wanted you to do."
She leaned back, solemn, every bit the Seeker making a pledge. "I love you, too, Varric. I have a duty to restore the Seekers, but when it's done, I promise: I will come back to you."
Cassandra's promise was spoken with all the honesty and determination he'd ever heard from her. For all his skill with words, he knew of only one way to express his feelings in this moment. He pulled her down to capture her mouth in a second kiss.
This kiss was even longer than its predecessor. When they did part, Varric took pride in the Seeker's flushed face and slightly stunned expression. Her hand was curled tightly around the front of his tunic. She stroked the exposed skin there, and he felt her touch all the way to his toes.
Her voice, when she recovered it, was low. "I could get used to that."
Varric grinned at her. "Well, neither of us is leaving the Inquisition for a while. I suggest we make the most of it."
She leaned back a little, studying his face. He took the opportunity to do the same and felt his heart stutter at the openness of her expression - the love he saw so clearly there. "I'm certain we will."
If you'd told him back in Haven that he'd manage to fall in love with the fierce Seeker of Truth, his clear enemy, he'd have scoffed at the insult.
But if you found him later at Skyhold - after a few games of Wicked Grace, months of fighting at one another's side, the sharing of his worst serial to date; after he'd managed to make her laugh and fallen in love with the sound; after he'd begun to appreciate her compassion, her strength, her undeniable beauty - he'd have been forced to admit that he was completely gone for Cassandra Pentaghast.
And if you assured him that his feelings were returned in full, this moment - with the rowdy celebration of Corypheus's defeat blasting around them and her hand held firmly in his - would have convinced him to believe you.
He would miss her when they left this place. But he wouldn't have to miss her yet. And he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that his Seeker would keep her promise.