Varric Tethras sat in a short, wooden chair in a mysterious, dimly lit room. He'd been there so long he couldn't tell what time it was. The windows were boarded shut and no light escaped from outside.

Damned Chantry, he thought. You're not going to find her, not if I can help it.

Seeker Pentaghast, a woman with short, dark hair, frowned as she listened to him. Between them was a wooden table and in the center lay his book, The Champion of Kirkwall.

Perhaps I shouldn't have recorded our adventures, he thought. But that would've meant Seeker Pentaghast searched for her herself.

He shuddered at the thought as he finished his story.

"The Champion's name became a rallying cry, a reminder that the mighty Templars could be defied. She had defended the mages against a brutal injustice, and many lived to tell the tale. The Circles rose up and set the world on fire," as Varric spoke, Seeker Pentaghast studied his face. She followed along in her version of the book. "More Templars arrived in Kirkwall to restore order, but we were already long gone. We vanished into the hills, and circumstance eventually forced us all to leave the Champion's side. You still hear the stories, of course. With each telling they grow, even if at the core remains the truth. A new legend had been born," he leaned back in his chair and placed his fingers together. "So that's it, that's the whole story."

Seeker Pentaghast closed the book as she looked at his face once more.

I've told you everything I know, he thought. Now let me go.

His need to protect fought with his desire to escape. He felt anxiety settle in his gut like an old friend. He kept it close, just in case.

"Then Meredith provoked the Circle. She was to blame," said Seeker Pentaghast.

"Or that damned idol was. Or Anders was. Take your pick," Varric replied with a shrug.

"Even so, had the Champion not been there…" Seeker Pentaghast trailed off, as if trying to piece something together.

"It might never have gone that far," Varric answered.

"I see," said Seeker Pentaghast, her cold tone and expression present once more.

"So how is hearing all this going to help?" Varric asked, as he eyed the Seeker in the dim light. "You've already lost all the Circles. In fact, haven't the Templars rebelled as well? I thought you decided to abandon the Chantry to hunt the mages?"

Translation: Why are you interrogating me and why do you need Hawke? He didn't expect Seeker Pentaghast, not directly, but he figured he would at least try.

"Not all of us desire war, Varric," Seeker Pentaghast responded. Her expression softened now. "Please, if you know where the Champion is, you must tell me. She is a hero, a woman that the mages would listen to, someone who was there at the beginning." Desperation filled her voice now, "The Champion could stop this madness before it's too late. She may be the only one who can."

There it is, he thought. Despite everything she's been through, you need her to end your little war. Not happening.

"Is that what this is all about?" Varric asked and shook his head. "In that case, I wish I could help you."

But I can't tell you where the Champion went, he thought. I won't. I swore to the Maker and Andraste I would keep her safe.

"Just tell me one thing, then: is the Champion dead?" Seeker Pentaghast asked.

"Oh, I doubt that," Varric answered. "She's a strong woman, the Champion."

Finally, Seeker Pentaghast spoke the words he'd longed to hear since she'd first began her interrogation.

"Then, you are free to go, Varric. May the Maker watch over you during the dark times ahead of us," she said.

With that, she turned to the door.

"Same to you, Seeker. Same to you," he replied.


Finally, thought Varric. About damned time.

After Seeker Pentaghast and her contingent of soldiers had left, the guards had let him go. He enjoyed the cool breeze against his skin as he walked away from the small, stone building.

"Andraste, please let her be there," he murmured.

He wound his way through familiar roads and alleys, constantly looking over his shoulder. His heart hammered in his chest as it had when Anders' blew up The Chantry.

Maker, I hope they didn't follow me, he thought.

The full moon shined brightly overhead as music and laughter emanated from nearby buildings. Varric picked up his pace as he passed the occasional Kirkwall City Guard but thankfully, no one else.

Hopefully, she won't be too upset that I'm late, he thought.

He sighed in relief when he reached The Hanged Man, which mercifully, was still open. He could hear the usual crowd grow just as lively and rowdy within the well-known, square building. He walked toward the door and stepped out of the way as a drunk human staggered out. Varric ignored the man and kept walking.

"Just like home," he said, as he breathed in the familiar scent of piss and alcohol.

Varric scanned the bar, which was filled with a mixture of human and dwarven patrons. Minstrels played in one corner but were largely drowned out by the conversations around the room. Waitresses flitted from table to table like bees to flowers.

He made his way to the stairs and took them nearly two at a time. He searched the second story and he briefly stopped when he spotted her. His heart raced as his short legs carried him to the table in the far corner.

Just as beautiful as the day we met, he thought.

While others might find her armor intimidating, Varric knew they were just as much a part of her as the staff she carried.

"You're late," said the dark-haired woman.

Unlike Seeker Pentaghast, her short hair wasn't severe. Instead, it framed her face and her

"I'm sorry, Lena," said Varric, as he took a seat across from her. "I was held up."

"I saw those soldiers leave Kirkwall, Varric," she said, as usual, not missing a beat. "What happened?"

Her sky-blue eyes filled with concern, and it made his heart melt. He knew if he told her what had happened, she would tear Thedas apart for him. But for now, he simply wanted to enjoy being in her presence. He reached across the table and placed his hand over hers.

"Don't worry about it, love," he said. He brought her knuckles to his lips and kissed them, "Everything's been taken care of. I told Seeker Pentaghast exactly what she wanted to hear."

She raised a brow and studied him for a moment. After the scrutiny he'd received tonight, he could handle one doubtful expression from her. For her, he would cross Thedas and back.

"Everything?" she asked.

"Well, perhaps not everything," he said. "I didn't tell her about us."

She studied him for a moment longer before she gently squeezed his hand and let go.

I did what I could to protect you, Lena, he thought. And I pray to the Maker it was enough.


This is a story I've had in the works for a while, but only recently finished. The inspiration for this came from cut DAII dialogue between Varric and Hawke. I don't really feel one way or another about this pairing, I simply wanted to explore what their relationship might look like. Thanks again to Solar for editing this work.

If you feel so inclined, please feel free to leave a comment or like!