This was a treat for russets that I wrote during the Hightown Funk event. I hope you enjoy it! Their prompt was: "Inquisition era mutual pining! It would be amazing if Hawke is jealous or hurt by thinking Varric has left her behind for greener pastures, whilst Varric is doing his best to keep the world from hurting her any further"
'To the respectable Mr. Tethras,
I hope this letter finds you in good health. Thankfully my-'
What was she pretending to be again? Varric's editor? Publisher? Would it make sense if she claimed she was happy the publisher's office wasn't ransacked? Didn't Varric complain about those guys ripping him off in one of his earlier letters? Hawke chews on the back of her pencil. Charcoal fills her mouth. It stuffs every soft surface behind and underneath her teeth. Breaking out into a cough the mage drops her charcoal pencil. Aveline was by her side in a second. Her large, armored hand gently pats Hawke's back as she coughs. As soon as she was able to catch her breath again, Hawke made a big show of wiping her tongue off with her hands, before spitting a bit of charcoal out. Dog barks out of concern from under the table.
Throat constricting, Hawke frantically waves her hand about. "Aveline, water, please."
Aveline passes her the water flask. It was barely half-full. "How many times are you going to chew on that Hawke?"
"Sorry Aveline. I was just trying to remember who I was pretending to be." She never much cared for writing secret letters. Codes and double talk were good skills to have, but it was easier coming up with stuff for people she could see. Once you have a read on someone it's easy to deceive them. Who knows whose reading Varric's letters though. How can she be sure she's tricking someone she can't even learn the name of. Knowing Varric he may well have bribed the spies by now. If he could. Leiliana was a well connected individual. Who knows how she controls her people.
Dog whines as he licks the back of Hawke's hand. Hawke rewards him with a smile. Aveline gives him a soft head pat. "Leah, Varric's editor. You chose that name because you thought it would be easy to remember."
"Right because it's similar to Leandra."
"A little," Aveline shrugs. "I guess."
"Wait, where's Carver?"
"He's outside. Insisted on chomping wood alone for a bit."
"Is his headache getting worse?"
"If he is then he's not willing to talk about it."
"Yeah. I just hope it's not something more then a headache."
"He's too young to be experiencing the calling."
"Yes." Hawke breathes a sigh of relief. She takes Aveline's words as an affirmation that soothes her worries. "He is."
"Weren't you writing a letter?"
"Yeah, but it's hard." She knows better then to whine, but some days it's hard to sound like a person who has everything together. Especially when that person is in hiding.
"It's just a letter."
"Yes, but since Varric is with the inquisition now every message has to be written behind a layer of subterfuge. Sometimes two! Which means first I have to even know what I want to write to him, and then change it all to keep it hidden, but not too hidden so we can actually have a consistent conversation." Hawke throws up her hands. She leans back in the chair, letting her back stretch out for a moment. "He always writes long letters, but I don't know what to put."
"What would you say to him if he was standing here."
"That I've missed him. I hope the inquisition has treated him well, and I hope he's able to leave soon. I'm sorry that he was tortured by the seeker he now has to work with every day. I would ask if he's doing well. Has he actually been sleeping, or just doing that thing where he drinks coffee all night, lays down for five minutes before dawn, and just pretends to have slept." Hawke wrings her hands together. "Does he like the inquisition? Do they treat him better then Kirkwall had? Then we had. What does he plan to do once Corypheus is defeated? Is he going to stay there with them, or come back? I know that the inquisition pays him more then I could even when I had full access to the Amell estate. It makes sense for him to stay there, but Kirkwall wouldn't be the same without him. I wouldn't say all of that, but maybe some of it."
"There you go."
"What?"
"You know what you want to write. So put your pencil to paper, and write it."
"That hardly makes for a good letter, Aveline."
"Maybe, but I don't know how you expect yourself to write anything else when it's distracting you."
"I just don't write a letter at all."
"Bah," Aveline shakes her head and readjusts the logs of wood under her arms. "That won't help. You miss him. You'll end up writing back to him in the end."
"I know."
Aveline places the wood in the cabin's hearth. "You're making this complicated."
Hawke's eyes trail after one of the sparks that fly free of the hearth. It bounces off the ground once, then twice before coming to rest on top of the pile of wood Aveline set aside to feed the hearth with. Hawke leans back in her chair. She lays an arm across her forehead. The perfect picture of listlessness. "I know." She pulls Varric's letter off of the table, and unfolds it against her legs.
'To my number two fan,
'I know you tire of being referred to as that, but so long as Hawke's alive you're only my second biggest fan.'
A calm heart begins to pick up pace within her chest. That's right. She's his number one fan. Even if the inquisition could provide him with all the things she can't like safety, protection, support on the political stage, she's still his best friend.
'I know you're still waiting on me to bring my next manuscript, but writing is a difficult task. It's impossible to focus here. What with the inquisitor dragging us out to all the carious nooks and crannies of this world. I'm sure we'll end up in the fade before this is done. So please be patient with me. I'll make my way to you with a new manuscript as soon as I can.
Always your dashing author,
Varric Tethras'
There's a loud thunk at the front door. Aveline mutters a curse as she dashes across the living room. Hawke's eyes dart after her. Carver's wide shoulders fill the frame. A stack of at least twenty chopped logs within his arms. If it hadn't been one of them dropping on his foot and the floor that alerted the two women, it would have been his heavy breathing that alerted them for sure.
Hawke throws her legs off the table. The chair falls back onto it's legs with a thwack. "Carver did something happen?"
"Sis," his voice comes out broken by quick huffs of air, as if he was struggling to get any into his lungs. "ter." Carver takes a step forward. Aveline loops an arm around his back. Hawke stands still. She freezes mid-step. Uncertainty crashes down on her. What was happening? Why did he look so pale? Carver takes a step forward, as all the logs in his arms come crashing down. Hawke dives forward, catching her brother as he almost steps on one of the logs.
She wraps her arms around his chest, and back. Gently pressing her forehead against his, Hawke could feel him burning. A fever had taken hold of him. So suddenly? He hadn't shown any signs of sickness the past few days. Moments ago he was able to easily chop wood. Was it exhaustion? Wait could it be the migraine he's been hiding? She pulls her head back, and ignores the sweat clinging to her hair. "Aveline let's set him down by the fireplace. Do we have a blanket, and clean water?"
"We're about a two hour walk from Kirkwall. If we don't I can go back and get them." Aveline grunts as she kicks some longs out from under them.
Hawke carefully helps Carver to the floor. As he leans over, he throws his arms out in a panic. "It's okay. You aren't falling. I've got you little brother." She repeats her words soothingly as Aveline lays out his legs.
"You, haven't had me since," His words drift off, and his hand reaches out, grabbing onto her shirt. "we were kids." The words sound wispy. Every second his voice growing fainter. Hawke was grateful it was a joke and not a jab. Right now a bout of guilt would help no one.
"Write a letter to Donnic, he can grab a horse and get here faster. A pigeon will only take about thirty minutes to get there." Hawke hurries up the stairs to the cabin's second floor. Where three beds sit in various stages of disarray. The wood was rotten in different places on on three, so they had taken to resting on the cabin floor. Still the blankets were mostly together. With the occasional moth hole here and there. Hawk wrenches the blankets off of each bed, and hurries downstairs.
Aveline was already outside, tying a note to her trained pigeon. It was the only way the guards could agree to send messages with the world outside targeting the whole city, and Aveline having to move between going back to the city to run the guard and bringing supplies out her to Carver and Hawke. It wasn't a perfect system, but they make it work. Well, they have.
Carefully she wraps her the most intact blanket around him first. Just to make sure that the blankets stick she tucks the first one under his arms and backside. The second she lets lay over the top of him, arms and all. The third had several decently sized holes. "He should be here with extra water and some medicine soon. Three hours at the latest." Hawke lets out a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness he wasn't wearing his armor."
"He weighs enough without it." Hawke adds using a corner of the third blanket to wipe sweat off his brow. Aveline takes a seat on the floor closer to Carver's feet. She passes the flask over to Hawke. Leaning over Carver, Hawke takes it. "Thanks." She mutters before twisting the top off. With steady hands, she lifts Carver's head up. She presses the tip of the flask to his mouth, and waits for a reaction. When he shudders, she pours a little bit of water into his mouth. Quickly the warrior drinks it down. With a gentleness that Hawke had forgotten she possessed, she rests his head on the floor again.
With a quiet whine, Dog pads over towards them. Hawke scratches his neck as he pushes his body under Carver's head. The old mabari then rests his own head in Hawke's lap. "You've got yourself a good old cuddle pile over there Hawke."
"Just like old times." Hawke smirks before setting the flask down. "What to join us over here. All we need is a few more bodies and then it really will be just like old times."
Aveline snorts as she leans back on her hands. "Maybe that's what you should send to the dwarf. You have at least an hour to figure out your words either way."
Varric would get a kick out of that. "Yeah maybe I will." Hawke waves her finger towards the table. "Mind bringing me the pencil and paper?" Aveline rolls her eyes, but she still gets up. When she brings Hawke her materials, the captain of the guard plops on the ground right next to her. She starts to undo her armor, as Hawke presses her pencil to the paper on her legs. Dog's snoring occasionally lifts the edges of the paper.
'Sir Tethras,
If I have to tell you one more time, I will grow entirely besotted with you, and won't write anymore. You'll be left to find a new editor. A task that I'm sure would be simple for one of the members of the Inquisitor's inner court. I doubt you even need old Leah anymore. Truth be told it's been ages since you've sent me a new book to look at. I hope you are eagerly seeking a solution to this problem. When you're surrounded by such grand individuals I can't imagine that you're lacking for any inspiration. I'm sure a story about the inquisitor would be far more popular then about the champion.'
Giving the paper a pleased once over, Hawke hums, proud of herself. "All done?" She gives Aveline a nod, and hands the letter off. Aveline reads through it once, before nodding. "It doesn't convey everything from that rant of yours earlier, but it's a good start."
"Hurray, I've gained Aveline's approval." Hawke rolls her eyes.
Aveline smiles, and hands the paper back. "I just think that eventually you're going to have to tell him."
With a huff Hawke deflates. Her nails scratch at the back of Dog's ears. "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Uh huh." Aveline sounds utterly unconvinced. She yawns into her elbow. "Well I'm beat. Could you take first watch tonight?" Hawke gives her a curt nod. Between Carver's sickness and her nerves over the letter she probably wasn't going to get any sleep anyways. Aveline lets out another yawn as she lays down. "Hawke?"
"Hmm?"
"Why didn't you mention Carver's sudden sickness?"
"Varric is busy with the inquisition. There's no point in worrying him with it, especially when he can't do anything to help. That'll just make him feel frustrated." Aveline nods in agreement as she rolls onto her side. "Though I still think you should tell him about it. He won't like finding out later, if Carver doesn't get better."
Aveline tucks her arms under her head to use as a pillow. She brings her legs up, bent in towards herself, and lined against Hawke's own. She wasn't exactly a part of the cuddle pile, but rather on the side of it. Right next to the mage herself. Close enough. Hawke runs a hand along the back of Aveline's head. The guard captain tenses briefly before relaxing under the touch like a cat. Stifling a giggle, Hawke picks up the letter again.
Quickly she scribbles one final line onto the paper. 'It would be easier to discuss business if we could meet in person.' It's not exactly what Aveline suggested but it's close enough. Plus if Varric returns then she can just tell him then. Hawke leans back on her own hands. Her eyes dance across the room before landing on the open window. A flock of birds pass by the orange horizon, that peeks out through the tree. Wherever the inquisition has him right now, she hopes he's well.
( 0
- / ) ) -
Varric's days were busy. Packed to the brim was his daily schedule. His mornings were preoccupied by people who were far better at being up that early then himself. Which is breakfast with Dorian. A breakfast that is always interrupted by either Josephine looking to trade in gossip, or Mother Giselle with a new bone to nitpick them with. As soon as the gossip was done, or the complaints became unbearable, he would make his way back towards the inn. There he'd meet with Blackwall and Sera. The trio would either play a game of who's the better shot in various settings, and targets, or they would just spend some time together shooting the shit. Of course Varric would leave the trio first, making way towards his next appointment. Which was researching various topics in library with Vivienne for company. She often seeks out the gossip given freely by Josephine that morning, to cross reference with her own whispers. Occasionally if he's got good info, she'll repay him with a question answered. It's not the worse deal in the world, this unspoken agreement of theirs.
For lunch Varric is gifted with the inquisitor's presence. Which typically means Cassandra and Cullen join them and insists on talking about matters relating to work. Curly was never this on top of things back in Kirkwall. In fact, Varric has never seen him work so hard before, or smile this much. This place was proving to be good for him. Varric was happy for Curly, but he couldn't stop feelings of jealously from cropping up. It's all well and good that he's happy. Curly has clearly made some real friends here. No one would look at the commander and think, 'well he doesn't seem to belong'. No. In fact the inquisition seems to be a home.
Too bad Varric's home is the exact place Curly couldn't wait to be rid of. Kirkwall. At least the fires had been put out before he was dragged away. Though Hawke has probably started a few new ones. Varric slinks away from the lunch without a word. His thoughts carrying his mind away, leaving his feet to wander on their own. Most of his afternoons were spent like that. Him just exploring Skyhold, or entertaining the other residents and guests with stories.
Eventually the day would turn to night. Visitors around the hearth would begin to dwindle, or his feet will start to ache. Varric always returns to the inn, for a final meal with Cole, the Iron Bull, and on occasion Solas, or more often then not Sera. Today was the day Solas decided to grace everyone else with his presence. Meaning Sera would most likely remain in her room for the night. It's just as likely that she's out terrorizing some of the nobles of the fortress. Tonight their meal was interrupted not from a brawl, or with a sudden emergency meeting of the inner council. They weren't even interrupted by other people needing to relay information to Iron Bull, or asking Solas for stories, not even a single strange look from the other patrons as Cole's attention is pulled around the room. Though that could have been due to the fact that he managed to stay seating with Varric and company for the meal.
It was actually Leiliana who caused Varric to cut his meal short with the rest. She arrived when his mind was preoccupied with curious thoughts about what Hawke must be doing right now. The spymaster arrived with a rather large smile on her face. Precariously she carries a sealed envelope in her hands. Not even bothering to hide the letter from onlookers, she strides through the tavern straight to Varric. "I thought you would want this as soon as possible. So I brought it along myself." Her voice wasn't a whisper, but at least she wasn't declaring it to everyone in the room. She wasn't going to spread his news everywhere, but clearly he wasn't on such positive terms with her that she would deliver his mail discreetly. The fact that she delivered it at all left him a bit confused about where they stand. "It's from your editor Leah."
Ah. So she's caught on. "No doubt she's on me to write another book." There were better ways she could let him know. Even Leilana enjoys games. Varric stands from the table. With a simple wave to the others he starts up the stairs towards his room. Leilana right on his heels.
"She seems to believe that you could publish something about the inquisitor. Of course, you wouldn't send her any secrets you aren't supposed too, right?" The red-headed human asks, leaning down towards him as they climb the chairs.
Varric pushes his bedroom door open. "Of course not. You would know if I did." Varric slides right past the insinuation that there are secrets Leilana may want him to spread. Misinformation is just as vital a tool as it's truer counterpart.
Leliana lets a creepy smile crawl across her face. She hovers in the doorway, undisturbed. "Indeed." With that threatening smile, the spymaster leaves. The unsettling air lingers behind her. Varric shakes his head. Her influence was ridiculous. She never even entered the room!
In a feeble attempt to soothe his standing hairs Varric rubs the back of his neck with his mildly warmer hand. "Don't get me wrong, Leliana is the best spymaster the inquisition could have, but she creeps me out."
"Yes she does seem to have that effect on people." Cole replies appearing right next to Varric.
"She's not always like that." Varric says confidently, squeezing Cole's hand. The ghostly boy closes his mouth and looks back down at the plate of food in front of him. Varric tucks the letter into the pocket on the inside of his shirt. "Here kiddo, you can have the rest of mine too." The plate slides across the table. It clinks against Cole's barely touched food. Varric offers him a sympathetic smile. He was slowly becoming more human as the days go by. Hopefully he'll get used to eating soon. Varric's not entirely sure if ghosts becoming human need a lot of food like growing people do. This transformation of his is a kind of growing, isn't it?
His eyes rake over the letter, as if they had been starving for anything of her. The words, so awkwardly written with her non-dominant hand, still sound like her. For all her effort, Hawke could never be anyone other then herself. Yet another reason he's been unable to stay away from her for all these years. They were leagues away from each other now. Every bit of that space add layers upon layers to his aching heart. Some days he'll wake up and call out to her, thinking himself still at the Hanged Man. Eyes now fed, Varric closes them. He heaves a deep sigh.
"This is for the best." He tells himself. It feels like a lie. If his heart wasn't imprisoned within his body he knows it would have left on foot to return to her by now.
There are times he feels like a hopeless romantic. It's a terrifying thought when it's considered for longer then a moment. In the end it's the romantics who get themselves in trouble. They throw themselves into the middle of chaos for their love. They kick up a fuss to proclaim their love, and then have to face the consequences of drawing attention to themselves. He's already called for that attention once. When he wrote the tales of the champion. He hoped it would shift people's opinions of Hawke and their friends, but in the end it only called for more eyes to search for her.
He picks up his quill pen before touching the feather to his lips. The soft feather gently tickles his lips. The sensation distracts him from thinking too deeply about his response. Why did he get a sense of hurt from her words when her letter said nothing so specific? Could it be that he's projecting his own loneliness onto her? There's a chance.
'Hawke,' Varric swiftly crosses out her name. He gingerly holds the paper over one of the two candles providing him with writing light. Callous fingers hold the paper still as it burns. Until the ends of the flames burn briefly against them. Varric holds his hand still, unbothered by the flames that pinch against his skin before dying out. Ashes smudge between his thumb, and forefinger fall onto the table.
A mistake on his part, can not be how her location gets out. A lump forms in his throat. It must never come form him. After all the hurt he's delivered into her life, he can't be the source of anymore. He won't be.
Soft knocking on the door interrupts his thoughts. Varric quickly places his thumb and forefinger briefly in his mouth to soothe the pain. Just as fast he takes them out and dies them off with his coat. "Come in."
Cole's lanky figure barely fills a half of the doorway. His presence has grown stronger since the confrontation. Varric smiles at the thought. Good for him. "I'm not hungry, but you are." He steps inside, correctly taking Varric's lack of a reaction as an invitation inside.
"I'm good Cole."
"You didn't want to read the letters in front of the others, but you're still hungry." Cole stares down bashfully at the plate in his hands. "And you always say it's important to eat." Conceding Varric nods. The younger man takes his victory and lays the plate on Varric's desk.
Cole then sits on Varric's bed. He slips his shoes off, and stretch his legs out away from him. Stretching, as he gets himself comfortable. "Shoes never used to hurt. Now they feel, restricting. I think they may have been too small for this body." He leans over and looks down at the discarded shoes. "The city always felt too small for her. She never complained about being trapped within it, but one day she'll spread her wings and fly. Could she be safe here? Would safety be found anywhere for a creature of flight? Hawks never stay in one place forever. You hoped that she might. Even though you know Hawks always return to the same place for nesting year after year, you wanted her to never go. Never travel far away. Without you there she lost her best reason to stay."
Steadying himself, Varric presses his fingers against the hard wood of his desk. "Is that all?" Cole had gone on for a bit, but he didn't announce as much as he usually does. It was more of a circular point this time.
"The ability it is fading." Cole's voice falters. Varric makes a mental note of that.
"I suppose there was always going to be some trade-offs for you."
"As there is with you?"
"Yes, well you don't live as long as me without having to cut a few deals."
"And strings." Cole brings his legs up to his chest. He lays his head sideways across the worn down pant cloth covering his knees. "But you haven't cut ties with her."
"Hawke is different." You don't go through an entire rebellion with somebody just to drop them like a pile of petrified nug dung. Well maybe some people do.
'Will you cut ties with us?'
"The inquisition? Chances are I will, but the organization is different from the people within it Cole." The sooner he can wash his hands clean of international messes the safer he'll be. The better off he could manage his resources too. Right now his influence has never been larger, and his network never larger. It was growing difficult to keep track of everybody. If secrets were to get out now he could still track the source, but the fact that he's not as close to every informant as he used to be makes the chances of information leaking so much greater.
A shaking soft voice cuts through mildly concerning thoughts. "Is that how it was with Kirkwall too?'
No. None of this is how things were in Kirkwall. Varric opens his mouth to speak. An itch in his throat thrwats him. Forcing himself to be quiet, Varric carefully coughs into his hand. After a good minute he's able to speak. "Kirkwall is different. Even if I wanted too I could never cut all my ties to that city."
"Why?"
Why indeed. "It's home."
"And the inquisition isn't?" Guilt threatens to silence his tarnished silver tongue. The kid means well, Varric reminds himself. He's still learning.
"Not for me." A quiet voice tinged with guilt, slogs through the words. "Cole my situation is a bit different from yours." How to explain imprisonment, that you can't wholly bring yourself to be angry at your captors for? Cole came from a circle. He might be able to grasp the very tenuous line Varric walks with his emotions. If not examples are always a great help. "It was closest to the Inquisitor's before they're hand started glowing."
"So if you want to go back, why don't you leave?"
"Because I can't leave my work unfinished."
"Why?"
"If I do then people I care about will be dragged into this mess."
"You mean Hawke?"
"Yes I mean her. I also mean her family, and all of our friends. Isabela is already running missions for the inquisition because they pay well. Sebastian is picking a fight with Kirkwall. Donnic is stuck protecting the city while Aveline has to travel with Junior and Hawke all because I'm not there." The two exchange letters of course. Varric knows they must be missing each other.
"Because you're here."
A cold wind howls it's way through the battlements outside. It's cry a faint mockery of Varric's loneliness. Like the wind outside, Varric's emotions threaten to chill the air within the room. "Where I have to be." Far away from Hawke, and her warmth.
"I see."
Varric pinches the bridge of his nose. "Cole I'm ti-" the words die on his tongue as he turned in his chair to see the bed now empty. The kid must've caught on. Varric runs a hand through his hair. He tugs at a handful of it briefly. Was Cole hurt? Varric had tried to keep his patience, but perhaps his stress had made him less then amiable. Later he'll apologize. Maybe even tell Cole the story about the one time Fenris managed to play a joke on him, successfully.
Now without distractions Varric returns to the letter. With a plate of food taking up what little space he has left. If only dog was here. It used to be easier pretending having ate food with a bottomless pet a simple call away.
'Leah,
We have been working together for several long years. You and I were inseparable during the process of editing The Tale of the Champion. If it were for not my circumstances with the seeker I'm sure you would be right by my side now as I try to spin a new yarn to tell. Even though I find myself surrounded by personalities that would make for interesting characters, I need none of them as much as I need you my dear friend. So please do not grow to besotted with me. I do not wish to find a new editor. Especially in this current landscape where I have been betrayed and lied to by my publisher already. Think of how cold my heart will grow if I were to lose you, the one I trust most with my dearest treasures, as well. Being able to lend my voice to the inquisitor's ears has it's perks. I have been able to keep the worst of the dangers away form my friends, and allies, such as yourself, but I miss my days in Kirkwall. I miss the way the Hanged Man smelled. Those nights where my friends would drink to their hearts content. My late evening spent searching for a free space in my bed after it had been taken over by my welcomed guests. I suppose there will be more room in it now without Anders, and Sebastian in it. Though I bet if Hawke has done anything it's make new friends during her travels. I wish to return there as soon as possible. Yes none of my current compatriots strike my urge to write as solidly as Hawke had. So I hope you understand it will take me longer still to write a new book. Maybe I will try my hand at romance again. I'm tired of tragedies. In either case I still need you, so I hope you stay available in the future.
Sincerely your best writer,
Varric Tethras'
With feet that feel like lead, Varric stands from his desk, pockets the letter into his coat's secret inner pocket. Hopefully Hawke won't read too much into the word, available. To outsider it may read as a romantic undertone. If this was a few year ago he would have rewritten the whole thing to better hide his emotions. Perhaps he's just getting to old for all the subtle underhandedness he used to use in his work. Varric marches out of the room. It was supposed to be early spring. Thanks to the pristine location of their base. Which is residing within mountains. Snow being on the ground year-round was now a concept Varric would have to get used to. Silently the dwarf wills himself to ignore the cold as he walks across the barracks. His body shivers in rebellion.
After the coldest minutes of his life, Varric finally arrives at Skyhold's roost. The sight of dozens upon hundreds of cages eerily swaying in the darkness was, well creepy as shit. A soft creaking of swinging metal on ancient wood only adds to the unsettling atmosphere.
"Here to send your letter off, Ser Tethras?" Leliana's voice coming from behind him out of no where was the least creepy part of this whole place. Yet it still makes him leap away. More nimbly then even he expected from his fingers, Varric clings to one of the cages above his head. Carelessly his legs swing in the air. Recklessly Varric kicks his legs even more, causing more erratic swinging.
When he sees she comes without a weapon in her hand, he decides to let go of the cage he was hanging off of, and drops to the ground in front of her. "Please not you too. Everyone here is too damn polite Leliana."
"Then allow me." She says pull the letter out from his hidden inner pocket. A knife slips into her hand from somewhere inside her sleave. Carefully she slips the edge of the knife under the fresh seal. Now open, the spymaster pulls out the letter and reads it swiftly. All the while acting as if snooping through another person's mail right in front of them was a completely normal occurrence. Even for the infamous Leilana, it shouldn't be.
"I thought there was suppose to be at least the guise of privacy."
"Why pretend when you already know the truth?" That smile has absolutely broken a few hearts. It's probably even killed a few.
It's so hard to compare the woman before him to the one he met all those years ago. "I liked you better when you were blushing under Rivaini's attention." He's a lot more fearful of her now.
The pair of them round the room, strolling over towards the giant hole in the side. "If I remember correctly you were rather perturbed to find out we had rented out the room next to yours."
"Only because Rivaini already had one in the Hanged Man, and it was down the hall." Birds caw and hoot to gain their attention. Varric coos at one whose cage sits on the table next to the exit. It shakes it's cage with a determined fury. Just like many a friend of his.
"We were in a hurry."
Aren't they all? "And now?" He pushes a finger into the cage, beckoning for the bird to come closer.
"I'm also in a hurry now. Not everyone writes such harmless letters to their dear friends as you do." A friendly pat on his shoulder lets him know that he's off the hook. The angry raven pecks at his finger. Varric hisses the pain away as he yanks his finger back out of the cage. At least for now. Living in Kirkwall taught him a lot. One of those lessons being, that there's always another hook. Though the merchant guild was the master at delivering that lecture.
"I trust Leah to not cause trouble."
"I'm sure you do, such as you trust your cousin not to ruin your family's business deals." Leliana leans forward against an empty cage. She rests her arms comfortably on top of it. Was there anything she didn't know?
Varric leans against the pecking bird. It rattles the cage again, sending him leaning as far away as possible. "Did you go reading the legendary grey warden's mail too?"
"Never without permission."
"You know what I like about you Leiliana?" There was lot of things really, but two stand out above the rest.
"What?" For the first time in a long time, Varric could hear genuine interest in her voice. Not the fake kind of curiosity that she gives to those who are just telling here things she already knows. Some of those poor fools are so excited to be sharing but has been old news to her ears for months.
Leliana pulls a calmer, dare he even say, well mannered raven from a cage hanging above her head. "You're smart, and you're good at keeping secrets." Varric hands over the letter. Leliana slips it into a container. I'm sure that's why the grey warden kept you so close during the blight." She ties the container to the raven's back with the free hand the raven wasn't resting on.
"You could say," The raven flies off of Leliana's hand. "That I know what it's like to protect an old friend that the world wants to throw in front of all of it's problems." The pair watches side by side, as the bird flies away. "If I may offer you some advice, grow your influence, and no one will be able to touch those dearest too you."
"Really?" The bird soars high above the battlements. "I always thought it was the opposite. Keep a low profile and no one will even think about you and your allies." The raven dives for a few second, before following the bridge out.
"Tell me, how has that approach served you so far?"
Varric had to admit these last few years have been shit. "Not as much as it used too." The raven was a mere speck in the distance now.
"There always comes a point where that's the case." He blinks the cold air out of his eyes. Maybe if he pretends, then Leliana won't notice the way they were beginning to water.
"Yeah." They had blown past the first point ages ago. Now it seems like they were coming closer to that point with every passing day here. Varric turns to thank Leliana for the conversation, but just like the raven, she was gone. He pulls his coat closed. Up here only the chilly Skyhold air stays with him. His hand drifts back towards the cage. This time he only flinches as the Raven pecks at his hand. They'll see each other again. Of that, he has hopes.
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