A/N: Thank you for reading! I finally figured out how to tag for couples and adjusted the tags on here appropriately.

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"Do you think if I slumped my shoulders and stooped a bit, it would help?" Tiny asked as he wandered into the viscount's office where Varric was sitting at his desk, staring at the ridiculous number of problems that hadn't been forwarded to him during his time in Skyhold.

"Unfortunately, Kirkwall doesn't have the best history with Qunari—"

"Few do," Tiny laughed.

With a dramatic sigh, Varric rolled his eyes up to look at Tiny. "The fact that no one's tried to kill you yet is pretty impressive, to be honest."

"I won't tell you how I spent my morning, then." Tiny laughed again and then motioned to a few rolled up papers on the far side of Varric's desk. "These the maps?"

Varric nodded and tapped them. "I doubt you'll need them all, but they have different things marked on them and, well, I thought you could pick which ones would help you most."

Tiny unrolled a few to inspect the details on them and then picked them all up. "I think I'll use these to make my own—if you don't mind."

"Be my guest."

"I already am." With a wink, Tiny turned and headed out of the room, whistling as he walked past a few guards who went rigid—something Varric could see even from his desk.

Varric had known it would be a miserable time coming back to Kirkwall—not because of the place so much as the work—but he hadn't expected there to be quite so many problems. Red had met him at the docks, assuming he was here about the missing people who he hadn't heard a word about until then.

She'd explained—somewhat annoyed that she had to repeat what she'd gone into great detail about in her notes—that people had started going missing shortly before the conclave. It was mostly from Darktown, which had made it difficult to get a good feel for what was going on. However, when people started disappearing from both the Alienage and Lowtown, Red was able to begin investigating proper.

And she was hitting dead end after dead end.

However, she had heard rumors that there were similar problems in other Marcher cities.

Someone was intercepting her attempts to reach out to other areas for help, however, and it left her more than a little irate.

She'd sent actual guards to Starkhaven almost two weeks ago, and had heard nothing of them after they left.

They'd managed to stop one person from being taken so far, and there had since been a lull in the activity until just before Varric had arrived.

Red had assumed it to do with the Tevinter slave trade, mostly because the kidnappers had Tevinter accents, and had attempted to contact Broody to see if he knew anything.

Varric, however, had a sinking feeling that this wasn't Tevinter's doing.

But then…

Why take people? Were they being mindcontrolled to join the venatori or the red templars? Were they being sacrificed like those mages in the desert? Like the grey wardens?

Was this a back up plan for if the wardens failed? Was it simply to keep the Marchers occupied so that they couldn't rally together and fight back?

Or was it somehow unrelated to Corypheus?

Red had been thrilled to learn that the darkspawn magister was alive. She'd been there when they killed it, and had sworn up and down that the damned thing couldn't be back, even as Varric grimly assured her that it was.

And that it had a dragon now.

That she hadn't even gotten his message about that…

How was he getting any messages at all?

And how were they intercepting so many?

There were so many questions, and Varric wished that he could just say fuck it to all of them and just go map rifts with Tiny and the Chargers. At least the company would be good.

Worse, he wasn't sure if he could get word back to Skyhold about any of this.

As a result, Varric ended up stuck in meetings most of the day, dealing with the problems he could fix, and all the while wondering just what he could do to get messages to Nightingale and the others.

That night, unable to sleep, he settled down to look over the messages that he had supposedly been sent, versus the ones he had actually received. If only Hawke was here. He might not have a brilliant plan, but he'd talk until there was one.

Maker, he could talk. It was one of the most soothing things Varric knew.

They always went over everything they did together—

Well, almost everything, apparently.

Abruptly, that gave Varric an idea, and he scribbled out a few quick notes before heading out into the city to different drop locations, leaving a note at each.

Official notes weren't getting through, but maybe…maybe those would.

He'd half expected to get ambushed on his way back, considering he was wandering the streets alone.

Andraste help him, but this was Kirkwall, not Skyhold. He could get mugged and killed by someone not hellbent on following someone trying to destroy the world.

However, he made it back to the viscount's manor without incident, something that left him a bit on edge, if he was honest with himself.

But then he remembered how people were going missing. No wonder the streets had been so empty. Even muggers had families, and they couldn't very well support them if they were spirited away, could they?

As he pondered how lucky he was that he hadn't been kidnapped himself, he headed down the hall to his office and then stopped. He could see candle light pouring out of the door to his office, and shadows were moving.

Someone was in there.

Unshouldering Bianca, he crept forward and then leapt into the doorway, and nearly shot Tiny in the chest. Of course, the qunari found that hilarious, grinning as he motioned for Varric to come in. "We were wondering when you'd get back. Skinner wasn't too much of a bother following you, was she?"

"You had me followed?" Varric turned back toward the door, half wanting to back track, and wondering how he hadn't noticed. Could he have really been that wrapped up in his own thoughts? His own worries?

Skinner gave them a wave from the hall and turned and disappeared into the shadows.

Varric felt like an idiot.

More so when he turned back to his room to find Tiny was laying out all of his letters with Red's help. She noticed his surprise and let out an annoyed huff. "The Qunari here…Iron Bull, was it?"

"The Iron Bull."

"The Iron Bull," Red didn't question it, looking too tired to care about articles, "was going through your things. I decided to keep an eye on him."

"And help," Tiny added, grinning. "I have to say, with two people, the work goes much quicker."

Varric walked slowly through his office, peering down at the different notes that had been sorted into random piles and lines. "Don't suppose you want to tell me what this is?"

"Oh, right." Tiny started to point at one of the piles, but Red cut him off.

"We're trying to find the pattern in what made it through to you and what was held off."

"Well, I am," Tiny said, grinning at Red. "You're here to make sure I'm not a scoundrel, remember?"

Red simply sighed.

"Any luck?"

"If the message mentions people missing, or asks why you haven't addressed that yet, it didn't make it," Tiny said, motioning to two piles. "That seneschal of yours deserves a medal, he's been writing back up copies of damned near every letter sent to you—"

"Only when it became clear you weren't answering all of them," Aveline murmured and then paused. "There's a few we don't have copies of, one included a concern about the Herald of Andraste."

Varric moved over to the piles that were near the ones Bull had pointed out. The largest two were letters detailing or asking about help for disappearances. Next to it was a note scribbled by Tiny that said 'holiness'.

"You didn't get my letters about how Stardust insists she's not Maker-sent?" Varric asked, looking back at Red.

She shook her head. "On the contrary, here we're hearing how people flock to her Holiness. How the Inquisition does the Maker's will."

"I told her we're not nearly as much of a fanatical cult as we sound," Tiny said, grinning again. "Apparently that's why Starkhaven and Tantervale want nothing to do with us. They don't approve of the whole Maker-sent thing."

Varric stared at that little note a minute before looking back at Red. "How many notes do you think Choir Boy sent me?"

"You didn't get anything from him?"

"Not a word after the first letter. I sent a few letters, but—"

"He'll be relieved to hear that," Red interrupted. "He thought you were ignoring him." She paused and then sighed. "He's been helping Kirkwall with our rebuilding and the like. If not for him, we'd have been lost when you left."

Varric winced at that. "I didn't exactly have a choice. Seeker grabbed me and—"

"Held you against your will for a year?"

Another wince. It had been a year, hadn't it?

He'd thought he could manage things from afar—thought he was doing a good job, too—but in the end…he'd just wanted to be away from the weight of it, hadn't he? He'd wanted to help stop Corypheus, who he'd helped unleash on the world, definitely, but there had also been that longing for adventure, as well.

Well, not really. It had more been a longing for the carefree feeling he'd felt on his adventures with Hawke, before everything had become about an entire city depending on him and then the entire world depending on the Inquisition, even if it didn't know it.

Maker, the world didn't know just how bad things were.

Or did they?

He thought back to the vints who had been captured. "We need to find out where the people who are going missing are being taken."

"We've found a few hideouts, but they abandon them as soon as we find them. Before that, even…by mere hours." Red frowned. "And the people we caught died mysteriously. I think someone in the guard is helping their operation, but I haven't figured out who yet."

"If you want to get word to Skyhold, Dalish could try one of those bird messages," Tiny offered. "And in the meantime, we can look for the Venatori here."

"You think it's them?"

"You really think it's going to be anyone else?"

Varric let out a dry laugh. "Fair enough. Good luck with that, then."

"Don't need luck," Tiny said, standing a bit prouder for a moment. "I have the Chargers."

The next few days went by a bit too quickly to keep up with. Varric rescheduled a few meetings so that he could talk to different nobles again to see if any of them might know anything about the venatori. After all, they'd been deeply entrenched in the Ferelden castle, so why not here?

He inspected each new face working around the castle, asked them about Kirkwall's history, how they'd been affected by the chaos of the last few years, felt for signs of resentment that enough wasn't being done.

For signs that they might think the world needed to be reordered.

All the while, Tiny and his Chargers swept the surrounding areas, looking for rifts, fighting to make them dormant, and searching for the people who had to be venatori, as Tiny had said.

The fourth day he was back, Varric heard a laugh that he'd hoped to never hear again. He let his gaze slowly wander up to the door as he watched Seneschal Bran lead Choir Boy into his office. As soon as they were alone, Choir Boy levelled him with a look that said the dislike was mutual between them.

"Varric."

"Choir Boy—Prince Choir Boy, rather."

"I suppose 'Sebastian' is out of the question?"

"What can I say?" Varric offered with a shrug. "I like nicknames."

"Yes, well, Aveline told me that you didn't get any of my messages?"

"And you didn't get any of mine."

Choir Boy nodded at that. He took that as an indication that he could take a seat and slid into the chair across from Varric's desk. "Aveline also tells me your Herald is mistitled."

"I think Stardust would kiss you for saying that," Varric replied, unable to stop himself from grinning at the thought. "She hates when people call her Herald or 'Your Worship' or any of those fun religious titles."

Choir Boy sat there a moment, mulling it over. "In Starkhaven, word is that she embraces the title. That she counted her holiness as reason to disband the templar order—of course no one considers it disbanded here."

"She did disband the Order," Varric admitted. "But it was more in a fit of 'how are you so completely inept? You let yourselves be led by a demon! You should be disbanded!' and then they listened to her." His voice went up an octave as he imitated Stardust, shaking his head. "She still expects most of the templars to skewer her, to be honest."

"I cannot tell you the relief it is to hear that—about her not wielding her power so wildly, anyway," Choir Boy said, rubbing his temple. "People have been up in arms at the mere thought of the Inquisition trying to expand its cult's influence."

"Hey, now," Varric held up his hands as though the words had been a personal attack. "We've been fighting demon armies and falling in the Fade and stopping royal espionage. Does that sound like a cult to you?"

"No, and I'm sorry to say I haven't heard of these positive exploits. Perhaps you can set me straight and we can work together."

"Well, to start with, I suppose I should tell you that she can close the rifts, if you have any."

"Tantervale has one in its cathedral."

Varric nearly choked on his own spit. "Well, the inquisition can fix that."

After nearly three hours, Varric felt like they hadn't even begun to scratch the surface, but it was good to start to straighten things out. Choir Boy had left him to get word on the most important of the truths out to his people and those in Tantervale, feeling more than a little hopeful that they might be able to get things back to normal in both cities soon enough.

Varric had wondered if any of the messages would even reach their destinations. He'd told Choir Boy of the problems with messages getting intercepted, but that hadn't deterred him.

And so Varric had settled in to sorting out business as viscount for the rest of the day.

He only realized he'd missed dinner when one of the maids brought him his meal. He barely noticed.

It wasn't until he was munching on a tart that he started to feel dizzy. Sitting up, he frowned at the way the room spun and swam.

His mind moved slowly as he looked down at the tart in his hand and dropped it, realizing a little too late that he didn't know who had brought him his meal. He'd been so careful over the last few days to make sure he knew who it was, or to get it for himself.

But this time…

He tried to get up and the world spun out from under him. Varric hit the ground hard, pain blooming through his shoulder, though it felt like he was feeling it through a fog. Like there was a wall between himself and his body.

Blackness edged his vision. He tried to call for help, but if he made a sound, he couldn't tell.

The world went dark.

And then there was blinding light. It moved through him, soothing his shoulder and pulling him back into his body with force.

Varric's eyes snapped open, and he stared up into a familiar pair of brown eyes framed with a few loose wisps of blonde hair.

"Blondie?"