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"So she told me 'You're getting in too deep here, and I can't follow'. After everything I've done for her!" Blondie stared down at Varric in outrage, his eyes clearly inviting Varric to join him in his shock and disapproval.
Caught between two people he considered his closest friends, Varric frowned. "Hawke hasn't been herself since Sunshine was taken to the Gallows. You know that."
"You'd think she'd want to help mages more, not strand those who are trying to do something good for their cause!"
"Maybe she worries about her sister alone and vulnerable in that place, where Hawke can't protect her. Have you thought of that?"
Blondie opened his mouth, then shut it again. Varric's logic was unassailable—Knight-Commander Meredith's hold on one Hawke sister was a hold on both, and Hawke couldn't afford to put her sister in jeopardy. "Maybe," he grumbled finally. "Maybe."
"Definitely. Look," Varric said, "I'll work on Hawke, see what I can do. All right?"
"All right." Blondie looked around the Hanged Man and sighed. "I can't deal with this place tonight. Make my excuses?"
"Of course."
As the mage made his way through the crowd and out the door, Aveline appeared with two brimming mugs of ale. "He isn't staying?"
"Not tonight."
"Well, then, I guess I'll drink his." She placed the two mugs down. "What's his problem today?"
"He asked Hawke for help, and she turned him down."
Aveline frowned, taking a seat next to Varric. "Not a bad idea, in specific … but as a general trend—Varric, I don't mind admitting to you that I'm worried about Hawke."
"Oh? How so?" he asked noncommittally.
"She nearly took that little dwarf's head off. And I'm not speaking metaphorically."
"Who, Javaris? We'd all be better off if Javaris Tintop lost his head."
"Still. She seems so angry these days. Can't you talk to her, Varric? You always seem to be able to calm her down."
Varric shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "And tell her what? Not to resent her sister being taken? Not to mind her mother blaming her for it every time she goes home?"
"You don't give Leandra enough credit. She's been through a lot."
"Seems to me Hawke's been through exactly as much as Leandra has."
Aveline held Varric's gaze a moment, then sighed and looked away. "You're not wrong."
"I know I'm not."
"But we can't let Hawke disappear into this … fog of anger she seems to be drawing around herself. We're her friends—we should be there for her, help her to … bear it. The way she did for me when Wesley—"
Varric nodded. Aveline didn't speak much about her first husband, who had contracted blight sickness in the flight from Lothering. Aveline had been forced to kill him.
Then Aveline's face brightened. "Maybe we need to find her someone. The way I found Donnic. What do you think, Varric, any likely candidates?"
He held himself in his seat only through years of practiced willpower. Watch Hawke in someone else's arms? He supposed someday he would have to, but to be put in a position to have to help her find someone? That was beyond his capabilities. "She wouldn't thank us for 'helping' her , you know that," he said at last, glad that it was the truth.
"No. No, she wouldn't." Aveline sighed again. "Oh, by the way—you have a lot of connections in town. You wouldn't know who's behind some filthy broadsheet called 'Hard in Hightown', would you?"
Keeping a straight face this time took far less willpower. Varric was enjoying writing the serial too much to give it away so soon. "Me? No, not a clue. I can look into it for you, though."
"Good." She cracked her knuckles. "I look forward to getting my hands on whatever degenerate is behind that piece of filth."
"I'd like to see that," Varric said, carefully hiding his grin.
Fortunately, Hawke came in just then, with Donnic right behind her. Aveline got up from her seat and went to meet her paramour, and Hawke left them to it, making a beeline for Varric's table.
As she approached Varric, Hawke dug into her pocket for the ring she had found in Javaris's trappings that morning. The Coterie had been selling off his goods, which she took to mean that the mouthy little dwarf was gone where he wouldn't be bothering anyone else. And good riddance, too, after the mess he had made.
"I have something for you," she said coolly to Varric. Some other time, she might have entertained fantasies of giving it to him when they were alone, of his gratitude when he recognized it, of his kisses … but that was over now, and she needed to stop thinking about it. Instead, she tossed the ring across the table at him.
He caught it deftly and turned it over in those capable hands that Hawke resolutely refused to imagine on her body. "My father's signet ring! Where did you find it? Bartrand pawned it to pay for the expedition."
"Javaris had it."
"That bastard. Of course he did."
"Well, he's long gone now—or at least, he better hope he is. The Coterie's taken over his holdings."
Varric turned the ring over in his fingers again, shaking his head. "I can't believe you found this. You know, this sounds exactly like the kind of thing I'd make up about you."
"I do like to earn my press," she said dryly. She sank into a chair and put her feet up to show how little she was moved by his gratitude. Or possibly to avoid lunging across the table and claiming her prize. "But, when you tell people the story, you could mention that I found it in the belly of a dragon."
"Maybe I'll throw in a couple of werewolves and have you flying in on a griffon, just for balance." Varric grinned. He slid the ring on his finger. "Maybe now my contact in Orzammar won't ignore my letters. Anyway, I owe you one, Hawke. Remind me to put you on my tab."
"I can pay for my own drinks, thank you," she said coolly.
"I meant it metaphorically." Varric leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "I think I found him, Hawke. You ready to go after my brother?"
"I can't think of anyone I want to hit more." She clenched her fist, thinking of smashing it into Bartrand's meaty face. Or into the metal helmet of the Knight-Commander, leaving a satisfying dent and a broken nose underneath it. "Not enough people left in Kirkwall who want to get into a good fight."
Varric glanced at her in concern. "No, I suppose there aren't."
Aveline returned to the table with Donnic just then, and the subject was dropped, but Hawke remained on edge and wishing for someone to fight.