Chapter Text
The next morning, Varric found Bee asleep on the couch wearing only one boot. The other lay beneath the table beside her empty wineglass. She’d curled onto her side during the night, arms clasped around the blanket he’d left for her like it was a stuffed toy.
Corvus slept on a perch near the window.
Varric hadn’t owned a bird perch until yesterday.
The mansion felt different with Bee inside it. She’d spent most of the previous evening talking, laughing, and questioning his taste in furniture. But even asleep, the rooms seemed less empty when someone occupied them without waiting to be entertained.
Varric stood in the doorway longer than necessary. She was leaving soon—he’d known since she arrived. Bee had said one day, and that one day was over soon. There was no reason to feel cheated by terms established honestly in advance.
Still felt like a shitty deal.
He crossed the room and tried pulling the blanket free to drape it over her. She stirred almost immediately, her eyes—sharpened by alarm—opening. When she recognized him, she softened.
“Morning,” she mumbled.
“Debatable.”
Bee looked at the gray light filtered around the curtains. “Did I oversleep?”
“No.”
She pulled the blanket over her face. “I have to leave.”
“I know.”
The words came out more flatly than he intended. Bee lowered the blanket enough to look at him, but Varric turned toward the kitchen before she could study him too closely.
“Breakfast’s on the table,” he said.
“That an offer?”
“It’s a legal requirement before allowing you onto a public road.”
Breakfast was bread, cheese, apples, and the remains of a good Antivan red Bee had opened the previous night after declaring that departure deserved mourning in advance. By the time she joined him, Varric had placed everything on the table, she’d repaired her braid and found the missing boot. The sight of her fully prepared tightened something unpleasantly beneath his ribs.
She poured herself half a glass of wine. Varric tore bread in half and handed her a piece, watching her add enough cheese to make the proportions structurally unsound. Neither spoke about her departure. They discussed whether Corvus had attempted to eat the twine holding his perch together, whether Hawke would recognize discretion if it introduced itself, and whether Hard in Hightown required a second edition correcting several supposed ‘editorial oversights.’
Bee insisted that it did, but Varric informed her that readers enjoyed mystery.
“You named the dog after Aveline’s dead husband,” she said.
“Subtle literary parallel.”
“You forgot.”
“Allegedly.”
Corvus stole a piece of apple from her plate. Bee made no move to stop it.
“You’ve created a monster,” Varric said.
“He’s perfect.”
“Both of you are banned.”
“You gave me breakfast.”
“Last meal.”
“Seems excessive for lockpicking.”
“Kirkwall takes property crime seriously.”
Bee glanced toward the window. “Do you?”
“No.”
The bread disappeared too quickly, and so did the cheese. Varric refilled Bee’s glass even though he’d criticized the first. Morning continued advancing regardless of his opinion.
Eventually, Bee looked toward her travel pack. “I should go.”
“Probably. But ships are always late.”
“This one won’t be.”
“You could hope.”
Bee’s expression softened. The desire to ask her to stay existed, irritating and persistent, but it wasn’t his place. Bee had a life beyond Kirkwall: work, obligations, and several hundred roads she hadn’t yet seen. Asking her to sacrifice any of them so he could avoid an empty mansion would be selfish.
He had more dignity than that.
Bee collected her pack. Corvus hopped from the chair to her shoulder.
She took two steps toward the door, then stopped abruptly. “Oh!”
Varric’s heart reacted stupidly. “Oh?”
“I almost forgot.”
She lowered the pack and rummaged through it. A wrapped shirt emerged first, then a notebook, two sealed letters, and a small wooden box. Bee placed the box upon the table.
“I brought you something.”
Varric regarded it. “Should I be worried?”
“Not this time.”
She lifted the lid, revealing two simple pendants made from dark metal. A flat piece of smoky glass sat within each setting, black until the light caught it. Faint red lines became visible beneath the surface, branching like veins through stone.
“It’s enchanted glass,” Bee said.
“From Tevinter?”
“Yes. That’s where I got Corvus.” Bee scratched beneath the bird’s beak. “There are couriers who use birds to carry messages between the city’s towers. Magic keeps them from becoming lost. Some are attuned to places. Others to people.”
“And Corvus?”
“The pendants.” Bee removed one from the box. “No matter where either pendant is, he can find it. It doesn’t matter whether it’s in Kirkwall, Ostwick, or somewhere he’s never been.”
Varric picked up the second, the glass warming faintly against his fingers. “You’re giving me a magical bird locator?”
“I’m giving you a way to reach me.”
The humor left his face. Bee continued, apparently unaware that she’d struck him directly through the chest. Again.
“I have the other pendant. If you want to send me something, give it to Corvus. A letter, a message, but nothing too heavy. He’ll find me.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“And if you have him?”
“I send him to you.”
Varric looked at the pendant in his palm. Bee had made a pitstop to Kirkwall just to see him. Now she placed a thread between them long enough to cross countries.
“You trust me with your bird?” he asked.
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Does he know?”
“He’ll adjust.”
“What if I send him while you’re on a ship?”
“He’ll find me on the ship.”
“What if you’re somewhere dangerous?”
“He’ll wait until he can reach me.”
“What if—”
“Varric.”
He looked at her.
“You can always find me now.”
Well…
Shit.
Bee smiled, warm and entirely too pleased with herself. “D’you like it?”
“Kid…”
“If you don’t, I can—”
“No.” Varric drew the chain over his head before she could finish. “I like it.”
Her smile widened. “Good.”
Varric looked toward the front hall. An idea arrived—whether it was good or catastrophically sentimental, he didn’t know.
“Hang on.”
Bee blinked. “What?”
Varric climbed the stairs and entered his bedroom. The top drawer of his desk contained contracts, spare crossbow components, three unfinished letters, and several keys whose purposes he’d forgotten.
One remained new enough to recognize. For a moment, he stood alone beside the desk. This was a practical gesture. Bee had already demonstrated that his lock presented no meaningful obstacle. Giving her the key would prevent future damage, alarm, and accidental crossbow bolts.
Entirely practical.
He returned downstairs, finding Bee where he’d left her with a hand resting upon the open box. Corvus had transferred to the table and was pecking at the empty setting. Varric held out the key.
Bee looked at it, then at him. “What’s that?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
“The front door.” Varric kept his voice light. “So the next time you decide to invade my home, use it. Saves wear on the lock.”
Bee didn’t take it. “You’re giving me a key to your house.”
“Mansion.”
“Varric.”
“Technically, I’m protecting my property.”
“You could replace the lock.”
“You’d only take that personally.”
She nodded. “Yeah. I would.”
“See? Practical.”
Bee looked down at the key again, stretching the silence. Varric felt exposed in a way he hadn’t when she gave him the pendant. He almost withdrew his hand and converted the entire thing into a joke, but she took it before he could, fingers closing around the brass.
“You really want me to have this, Varric?”
Varric met her eyes. “Yeah, kid. I do. This means you can come here whenever you want. Even if I’m not home, you’re just staying for a night, or you only have enough time to frighten me and insult my furniture.”
Bee’s eyes shone.
“Try to use the door,” he added. “That’s the large wooden thing at the front of the house.”
She laughed, though it trembled. Her arms flew around him, knocking him backward a step before he embraced her. Bee held him tightly, face pressed near his shoulder.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Just don’t lose it.”
“I won’t.”
“And don’t give it to the bird.”
Bee pulled away enough to look at him. “I won’t let it be another two years.”
“You’d better not.”
“And I’ll write.”
“You’d better.”
“And you’ll answer?”
“Always.”
She hugged him again. When she finally released him, Bee attached the key to a leather cord around her neck and dropped it back in. This time, when she crossed the entrance hall with her travel pack slung over her shoulder, she opened the front door directly.
Progress.
Corvus launched from the table and flew through the opening. He circled once above the street before landing on a nearby roof.
Bee stopped upon the threshold and looked back. “Goodbye, Varric.”
“See you around, kid.”
She smiled, then left. Varric stood in the doorway and watched until Bee disappeared down the street.
The mansion became quiet again.
Varric touched the pendant beneath his shirt. The kid had arrived by picking his lock and left carrying the key. Somewhere between, she’d given him a way to find her anywhere in Thedas.
He was in serious trouble.
Worse, he didn’t mind.