A/N: Thank you to 0wallie0 on tumblr for beta reading for me. And thank you to everyone who reads, favs, follows, and reviews!

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While Varric wasn't particularly fond of the outdoors, he had to say this this road trip was going well enough. The sun was shining and they were far enough south that it wasn't burning, they were making great time, and for the first time in a long time, he couldn't even find it in him to grumble about the outside world being so…outside.

There might be remnants of a hole in the sky behind them and a darkspawn magister ready to destroy the world, but all that could be forgotten for at least a little while with his current company.

Honestly, it was a weight off his shoulders.

Before the Inquisition had even made it to Skyhold, he'd had a letter ready to be sent to Hawke. As soon as Stardust had told him the name Corypheus, really. She'd been so tired from having to tell that miserable story over and over, and he hadn't helped much, with nearly choking on his drink at the name and then asking a bit too quickly for her to repeat it.

Then he'd asked for a description, knowing that while Corypheus wasn't anywhere near a common name in the south, perhaps it was the Tevinter's version of John—well, maybe not John. Maybe Gilbert. Something that wasn't used too often, but you still ran a decent chance of running into more than one in a lifetime.

His hopes had lasted about three seconds.

Namely because that was how long it had taken Stardust to gather herself—she'd visibly paled as she thought back on the creature—and start with, "He was a darkspawn—"

While he supposed Corypheus could have been more of a darkspawn name than a Tevinter one, the fact that he was a sentient darkspawn magister ranting about the Black City pretty much made it impossible for him to lie to himself.

So that night he'd written a frantic letter to Hawke, telling him that they'd failed with Corypheus, and that he didn't know what to do. Didn't know how to tell Stardust and the others that the damned thing could die and still come back.

Because that had to have been what happened, right?

After all, Corypheus had been dead. Dead dead.

They'd looted his corpse dead.

And now he was leading an army?

Varric had had the letter written in an hour, and then realized that they didn't have the resources to send it. Well, Nightingale had a few crows, but she was using them sparingly to get assistance for their little band of dying survivors.

Varric hadn't known a good way to borrow one of the birds so that he could send for Hawke without it becoming obvious who he was sending for—after all, if the weeks stretched on and he'd claimed to have sent for aide from a carta only to have no word come back, it would have likely made Seeker suspicious.

Anyway, how would Hawke even find them in the middle of the mountains?

So he'd held onto it until they'd reached Skyhold and he could send out multiple letters to connections who would get back to them quickly. With all the letters he was writing, there was less of a worry that anyone would notice whether or not he'd heard back from any specific one.

However, he hadn't expected Hawke to get back to him quite so fast.

Or that he would show up in person.

After being disappointed that his latest batch of responses were simply assurances from different associates and cartas that help would come or could be negotiated, Varric had settled into penning his life away for another evening, wondering where Hawke had gotten off to and if any of the many, many groups looking for him had finally caught up.

Surely he'd have heard something, if that was the case.

He'd been in the middle of trying to think of a good way to write to Choir Boy—he couldn't still be mad that Blondie disappeared, after all, seeing as Hawke had put a dagger in the mage's stomach before that—when a shadow had fallen over his table.

Which hadn't made any sense because his candle should have been between him and anyone coming up to his table, thus negating any chance for looming shadows to begin with.

As his gaze had left the paper, he'd found the spot where his candle should have been to be empty.

Brow pinching together, he'd looked up higher until he'd found his candle, held precariously behind the owner of the shadow's head so that the appropriate shadows could be cast.

The second his gaze met that piercing blue one, Varric had been grinning like the fool already grinning down at him.

The great Garrett Hawke.

For all his stupidity, Varric had never been happier to see him. The man was a towering wall of muscle and brawn, just as Varric remembered. He'd looked paler and tanner in one, somehow, like he'd gotten too much sun and not enough sleep. His dark hair was as unkempt as ever, with locks sticking out in every direction in wild little tufts. His beard, however, was well trimmed, and in that instant Varric had wondered if he and Hero would get along or if they'd become rivals over who had the better beard.

Of course he had that streak of red across his nose, as always.

Hawke had dispelled Varric's awe that he would actually be there, in the flesh, when he let out an abrupt yelp as some of the candle's wax dripped onto the back of his neck.

Even as he tossed the candle onto the table, Rivani had been there, giggling at his foolishness and wiping the wax away with a gentle touch, her swarthy complexion a nice harmony next to Hawke's tan. Her clothes were as revealing as ever, her bust comfortable—and barely contained at the same time—in her latest outfit. Her dark hair was a little longer, falling a few inches further over her shoulders and down her back, but she still held it back with that bright blue bandana.

Though it was under an admiral's hat now.

She gave him a wide grin as he noticed the hat and then tipped it a little, her bracelets and necklaces jingling softly from the movement.

Even as Varric tried to find the words he'd been saving up for the last few months, tried to think of anything to say that wouldn't sound cheesy or overly emotional or…

Footsteps sounded in one of the nearer halls. Sharp ones.

Hawke's eyes widened slightly, and then he was pushing Isabela back toward the doorway to the upper courtyard.

One of Hawke's many, many talents was his ability to identify people by their gaits. He could tell a templar coming from a hundred paces, as well as dozens of other people he'd encountered during his adventures. It was a skill that had always helped him make sure he only ever ran into people he wanted to run into.

Just as Hawke and Rivaini disappeared into the shadows of the foyer, Seeker came storming through, lost in her own thoughts. Hawke had actually still been in Kirkwall when she'd first come looking for him, hence he knew her if only through the way she walked.

Fortunately, Seeker had been concerned with something else, and hadn't pursued him, even though she'd obviously seen him, or part of him. Varric doubted she'd have been so dismissive if she'd know who she'd watched disappear.

But she hadn't. And she'd given Varric permission to bring Stardust some horses, which would get Hawke out of Skyhold before anyone could notice him and rope him into something he didn't want to do.

And anyway, they had a lot of catching up to do, and while a road trip wasn't an ideal way to do it, it would still be more enjoyable than to try to hide Hawke there in Skyhold.

As soon as Seeker was gone, Hawke had been back. "It's her."

The words were spoken with a certain level of dismay that made it hard for Varric not to cackle. "It is."

"Is she in charge? I heard there was a seeker running things." Hawke had rubbed at his beard as he'd stared at the door leading to the rotunda, where Seeker had disappeared not a minute before. "Perhaps I should try to win her over now. Never known a lady who could resist my smile."

"Well, I've known plenty who could, and that one would probably just stab you," Varric had retorted, and then shaken his head. "Where's Rivaini?"

"Headed to the kitchens," Hawke had shrugged, slouching down onto a rickety bench across from Varric. It wobbled a little under him, but he didn't seem to notice. "We were actually on our way to meet a friend out here in regards to some other issues when we got your letter. The detour left our food stocks a bit low." He'd hesitated, his lips dipping into a frown. "Actually, there was an…incident, and the short of it is that we tried to take a shortcut and after we outran the bear, all we had left was a cheese wheel that we were going to use to bribe my friend into telling us things."

"Let me guess, you ate it?"

"It may be hard to bribe someone without the bribe, but it's even harder to bribe them if you're dead." He'd shrugged his arms out, palms up and the candlelight glinting off his well-defined muscles. "Please tell me there are more cheese wheels here."

"The only way you can persuade this friend is with cheese?"

With a scoff, Hawke had shaken his head, shaggy hair bobbing a bit from the motion. "I'm sure there are other ways. Cheese just happens to be the cheapest and easiest of them."

"Especially when you steal it."

At that, Hawke had simply shrugged. Before he could come up with some quip to dismiss the theft that was no doubt happening in the kitchens as they spoke, Varric held out a hand, as though he could stay the action himself. "Come with me to deliver the horses, and I'll see to it that we have at least two cheese wheels in our rations for you to make off with when we're done."

"I gathered I'd be your muscle when you were talking to the angry one. Bit risky to assume that I'd drop everything to go on your quest, though."

Varric had laughed at that. "That you're already here means you already did."

His characteristic grin returning full force, Hawke had leaned across the table, slapped Varric on the shoulder, and nodded. "I've missed you, Varric."

At that, Varric had given him a smirk and a shrug. "How could you not?"

With that, they'd split up to gather resources—well, Hawke had gone to find Rivaini and let her know thievery would be unnecessary while Varric went about recruiting the rest of their group.

Varric had made up the part about Sparkler wanting to come with them, but the truth was he'd heard more than a few people talking about their mistrust for the 'magister vint'. Apparently there was a need for clarification, since Tiny had that other vint in his band, and people liked him considerably more than Sparkler.

He'd figured that Sparkler might want to get away from the whispers, if only for a while. As he'd headed up toward the library part of the tower, he'd found that he'd had a better feel for the situation than he'd realized.

"Andraste's flaming tits, but if you put the Compendium of Subtle Combustibles beside the History of Necromantic Puppetry, I will toss you over that rail."

A monotone voice argued back. "They were authored by the same mage."

"Which is well and good, but we are going to organize this section based on the principle schools of magic so that they are most easily accessible to those who require reading in their—"

"No. Your method is inconsistent with the Circles."

"My method is better than the Circles'!"

Sparkled had quipped at the tranquil as Varric had come up the steps, though there had been a slight waver to his voice. When Varric had a clear view of him, he could see the way Sparkler had angled himself away from the tranquil and the way he seemed to cringe every time the man spoke in that lifeless tone.

Standing a bit straighter, Sparkler had tried to muster his usual gusto. "The fact that your Circles fell should be proof enough that they were flawed and—Varric. Thank the Maker. I could use the company of someone who actually listens to reason."

Even as he glanced back at the tranquil as though to make sure the man understood that jab had been meant for him, the tranquil simply set the book they'd been arguing over on the shelf and walked away. Sparkler's eye twitched.

"It is like talking to a wall," he'd muttered, fighting back a shiver.

"Not many tranquil in Tevinter, I take it?"

"We have better ways of dealing with mages who can't control themselves," Sparkler had muttered and then pointedly turned back to him. "I take it you require assistance? If you are looking for particular reading, I would happily direct you to what little is where it should be."

"Actually…"

When Varric asked if he'd help with bringing out the horses, Sparkler had let out such a loud, "Maker's balls, yes!" that Varric had half expected to look up to see Nightingale and Seeker peering down at them, disapproving frowns in place.

To save himself that horror, he hadn't looked up.

Then, even as Sparkler had started a rant about how the south didn't know how to organize books to save their lives and it was no wonder the whole place was so backwards, there had been a blonde boy there, whose mere appearance had made Sparkler jump and curse in his native tongue.

Which was odd, because the kid had to have come up from behind Varric, so Sparkler had to have seen him coming.

The kid hadn't seemed to even notice Varric, instead peering at Sparkler through shaggy blonde hair, saying, "I have to go help the good templars."

"Why are you telling me?" Sparkler had snapped in response, his breathing still evening out from the boy's initial appearance.

"Finley and Solas are gone, and no one else knows to miss me if I disappear." The boy's eyes had unfocused, and then he'd blinked and nodded. "You can let them know when you see them. I will be back. There's a lot to help with here."

Sparkler had eyed him a moment before nodding. "Do have fun, then."

"Silent sulking shadow dismissing itself from the obligations it promised to uphold. Hardly a wonder. Nothing for it to take here, nothing for it to—" The boy had twisted his fingers together, wringing his hands slowly as he glanced around. "I'm not breaking my promise. I wasn't going to go. I was going to stay to help keep her at bay, but Solas left a warning for her, and I think she'll behave for now." He hesitated, frowning. "I don't like her. She hurts people to get what she wants, but I can't find my way back to where she is, so all I can do is react, which is hard because she's so sneaky. She watches for me just as I watch for her."

Varric had knit his brow together, trying to think of any person he'd seen in Skyhold who might fit that description. Even as his mind had gone to Nightingale, the boy had turned to him for the first time and shaken his head. "No. Well, yes. But no. She hurts people, but not like this."

"Who's hurting people?"

The kid had seemed familiar, though Varric couldn't quite place where he'd seen him before. To add to the bizarreness of it all, through the whole conversation, Sparkler never once took his eyes off of the kid, even when Varric was the one talking, as though he thought the boy might…turn into a monster or something if he let his guard down for even a second.

"I…it's alright. Solas can handle her better than I can. I can't go back, but he can. And he does. Often. He knows to keep watch now, too, so it will be alright. I will be more help to the templars, for now."

"Help them with what?" Varric had asked, shaking his head. The kid was hard to follow at best, though Varric had a feeling if he could sit him down and ask a few questions, he might be able to figure out exactly what was going on.

"Finley should know…needs to, I mean," the kid had offered, holding out an unmarked envelope. "I wrote her a letter. I think it will make sense."

And then the boy had been gone, and Varric had wondered how exactly he'd done that.

And then he'd found a letter in his hands, and for a second he couldn't remember how that had gotten there. It had come back to him quickly, however, and he'd wondered if he could be going senile already.

Looking up at Sparkler, Varric had pointed over his shoulder, wondering if that was even the direction the kid had disappeared in. "That boy…"

"You'll have to talk to Finley about him. I know I will be," Sparkler had muttered. "You said we're leaving soon, yes? I'll gather my things."

The last person he'd recruited had been Reinald, though truth be told, the mage had recruited himself. Varric had planned on asking another mage or two to come with them, namely to help the mages get out there and show people that they were helping. While the mages had been assisting with the cleanup of Skyhold, word of their deeds wasn't getting very far, and Varric suspected it was because they were mostly sticking to themselves, waiting for the rest of their band to show up.

Getting them out in the world would help, make them more of a common occurrence.

Or, that had been his main thoughts when he'd pitched his party suggestion to Seeker. His other thought had been that Hawke would probably want to ask the mages a few questions about if they'd seen certain people, and how things were going. Even if his sister was safe in the wardens, Hawke was still very much an advocate of Mage Rights.

…And part of Varric had just wanted to see Seeker frown at the thought of mages wandering freely into the world since she did seem to be one of the many who seemed to feel that to be 'dangerous'.

Honestly, Varric thought most mages seemed to turn to the more dangerous aspects of magic when they were kept locked up, but what proof did he have other than watching the same shit happen for years and years?

That was an argument he'd have to have with Curly sometime, just to see if the ex-templar's views had changed at all, especially with his apparent fondness for their Herald…

Tormenting Curly aside, he'd been on his way to find a few mages to recruit when Reinald had caught up to him and offered to join their party, stating he had important news to discuss with Stardust.

And so the five of them had gathered their belongings and enough horses to bring for Herald Finley's group—as well as the largest horse they could find for Tiny.

And then they'd been off.

Varric was still trying to come up with a nickname for Reinald, and had spent most of the trip mulling it over. Quiet, Thoughtful, and Butterfly—as in the social type, of course—were on the table at the moment. It wasn't that the mage didn't talk—he did—but rather that he had to be prompted to. He most willingly spoke with Dorian, but seemed a little wary of Rivaini and Hawke, especially when Hawke talked about helping mages. It was like Reinald expected it to be lies, though he never outright said anything to that mind.

He was neutral toward Varric.

He did warm up a little when Hawke began regaling the group with stories of his childhood and both his father's and Sunshine's mishaps with magic. Further tales of Daisy and Blondie helped even more, though stories about Blondie tended to set Varric in a foul mood.

At least Hawke was careful not to make it clear that Blondie was the one who'd blown up Kirkwall. Varric wondered if Reinald would have been more or less receptive to those stories if he'd known.

Reinald had finally gotten to the point where he was telling a few lighthearted Circle stories—spells going awry that had Dorian cackling and telling his own Tevinter tales—when Hawke abruptly pulled his horse to a stop.

He'd been casually surveying their surroundings, allowing himself to enjoy the scenery, or so Varric had thought, when he suddenly perked up. "You said the Herald was a redhead?"

"Yeah—"

With that, Hawke vaulted off his horse and barreled into the woods. As Dorian and Reinald exchanged a confused look, Rivaini let out a sharp laugh and hopped off her own steed, calling for the mages to keep an eye on the horses and that they'd only be a moment or two. She paused to give Varric a pointed 'you're coming, right?' look before focusing on catching up with her lover.

Varric, however, barely caught that look. As soon as Hawke had dismounted, he'd looked ahead to see what was in the woods. As Hawke had been obscured by leafy shadows, he'd seen a bright flash of orange just a little further in and heard the crackle of magic.

If the ground had opened up to swallow him right then and there, he wasn't sure he would fight it.

There were so many things he'd meant to warn Hawke about when it came to Stardust.

He had told Hawke she was a bit timid around new people, that she scared easily, but he hadn't really stressed it. He'd assumed they were still a few days from running into the other party, and had figured he'd have time to pull Hawke aside and really press the point home.

Somehow, he managed to fall off his own horse without breaking anything and pursued that unbelievable idiot, ignoring as Sparkler and Reinald called after him worriedly. He didn't have to run far before he could see Chuckles ready to attack and Stardust half up a tree, eyes wide like a cornered animal's.

As Varric cleared his throat to try to mitigate the situation, Hawke bellowed, "My sister joined the wardens, and she won't tell me about the griffons, either!"

Dammit. Varric had mentioned that Stardust liked the wardens and griffons during one of their few non-magical conversations, hadn't he?

Had Hawke really thought that was all it would take to get on her good side?

Had he missed the timid and skittish warnings completely?

Even the birds and all those annoying insects that were always everywhere in the 'great' outdoors didn't seem to know how to respond to his declaration.

Truly, the entire forest was deathly silent.

In the least, Chuckles caught sight of Varric and allowed his lightning spell to dissipate.

Stardust, though…she stared down at Hawke, unblinking, unmoving—Ancestors, was she even breathing?

Then, slowly, so painfully slowly, she pulled her dangling leg up to her and perched on the branch she'd been hauling herself onto, crossed her legs, and angled as though she might leap up toward a higher branch if anyone dared a step closer. "Griffons."

Her voice sounded a little hollow.

"They're great, right?" Hawke nodded toward her, hands on his hips. "I asked my sister if I could get one, but she just glared. Said they don't exist anymore. Damned shame."

At that, Stardust gave a little nod. "People should have taken better care of them."

She was still incredibly pale, making her freckles stand out like miniature constellations painted onto her skin. And she was so still… That wasn't like her at all. Her head turned slightly to survey the situation, to see that Chuckles was intact and then around the rest of the clearing. Her gaze stopped when she saw Varric. Something about it was…off.

"You…know this man?" Her voice made him shiver. It sounded wrong somehow, even though he knew it was her.

Hawke strode over, grabbed the branch and hauled himself up so that he was sitting beside Stardust, ignoring the way the tree let out an audible groan at the added weight of a fully armored man. With a quick, awkward bow that left the tree branch shuddering—somehow Stardust didn't seem affected by all the movement—Hawke motioned to himself. "Garrett Hawke. Some call me the Champion of Kirkwall. Mostly, it's facetious these days. Ingrates." He trailed off, leaning forward to inspect Stardust more carefully.

Then he poked her shoulder, and Varric just about had a heart attack as her arm fell off.

And turned into leaves.

"Garrett Hawke."

Stardust's voice came from behind Varric, and he whirled around to see her leaning against a tree behind him, a frown well in place. Unlike the…illusion or whatever it was on the branch, her chest was rising and falling as though she was struggling to overcome a panic attack—and succeeding for once. When she looked down at Varric, there was a sharpness to that eerie fire in her eyes that he was so used to. "The Garrett Hawke?"

When Varric glanced back at Hawke, he did so in time to see the rest of the Finley double collapse into leaves and couldn't help the uneasy feeling that washed over him. He'd been able to tell it was off, but it had still looked so much like…her. He felt like he'd just seen her fall to pieces in the most literal sense, and he wished very much that he could unsee it.

"That's…quite a trick, Stardust. Could use a bit of a warning next time, though," Varric murmured, trying to crack a smile when he looked back at her.

She didn't smile back. "I would like a bit of a warning next time, too."

"Sorry about that," Hawke offered, trotting back to them. He stopped when he was beside Varric, just as tension rippled through Stardust, like she might climb another tree. "Don't blame Varric, though. He said some things. I didn't listen."

"He never does," Rivaini offered, sidling up beside Stardust.

As she spoke, Rivaini reached out to poke her shoulder, looking almost disappointed when the mage merely turned a critical stare toward her and said, "Don't."

"You're the real one, then?" Rivaini asked, head tilting to one side.

Stardust didn't answer, instead allowing her breathing to even a little more before finally reaching up and tugging her braid over her shoulder. Her fingers made quick work to unplait it. As she began to redo it, her gaze flashed over the lot of them again, some of the tension leaving her shoulders as she glanced toward the road. "You're not traveling with templars?"

"Not if we can help it, sweet thing," Rivaini offered.

Before she could say more, Hawke swore, "Shit! I'm sorry. I wasn't even thinking. You're probably used to having to run when you hear plate, huh?" When Stardust didn't answer, he motioned to himself. "When I was younger, we had to listen for that stuff, too. My dad trained us what to do if we stumbled across templars, so that we wouldn't make them suspicious or accidentally lead them back to him or my sister, Beth."

"The grey warden?"

"Yeah," Hawke nodded, though he was clearly more concerned than enthusiastic. "I'm…really, really sorry about scaring you."

"Finley," Chuckles called out, drawing attention to himself for the first time. Ancestors, but Varric had almost forgotten he was there. With that leaf version of Stardust, he was still rattled, and he jumped at the word. Too many voices were coming from behind him.

As Varric wrestled with his own erratic heart rate, Stardust turned her attention to Chuckles. Varric almost missed that her mood didn't seem to lighten as she looked to her fellow mage. Almost.

"I'll get this wood to camp and let them know we'll have company."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned and hurried off through the woods with an eerie grace and quietness. It reminded Varric of how quiet predators could be.

Well, predators and apostates.

"You must be…Rivaini?" Stardust asked, some of the tension finally leaving her shoulders as she turned to appraise the pirate beside her.

"Only Varric calls me that," she laughed and held her hand out. "Isabela is fine."

"Finley," she replied after a moment's pause. Another second or two passed before she clasped the hand extended to her. Rivaini grinned at that.

"Yep, definitely the real one."

Stardust's brow pinched together at that, and she withdrew her hand. Swallowing, she glanced over the three of them again before settling on Varric. Though she opened her mouth to say something, she seemed to think better of it and closed it without saying anything.

Hawke fidgeted a little before finally shrugging. "We brought you horses."