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Varric was a man of small comforts. A warm fire, a sturdy table by which he can sit and write, and a steady supply of ale was all he really needed. It’s how he had lived in the Hanged Man for all those years, despite his friends’ many comments about how filthy it was.
Skyhold’s main hall on the other hand was something else entirely. The lofty ceilings with the luxurious drapes, the very expensive-looking stained glass windows throwing shards of multicoloured sunlight onto the floor, not to mention the throne that yawned down at him at the end of the room. It was a grim reminder that his somewhat simple life in Kirkwall was no more.
Though the usual occupant of the throne was somebody he hadn’t expected.
Cadash sat at the end of the table, surrounded by scrolls. He had chosen the darkest corner of the hall, and positioned his chair such that his face was clothed in shadow. It was a good strategy; everybody that passed them by either ignored them or nodded at Varric, completely overlooking the table’s other occupant. Not that Cadash minded, he knew. Some days were long, and sometimes even the Herald of Andraste needed a quiet afternoon to himself.
“I’m headed to the tavern for a refill,” Varric said, standing up from the table and shutting the book he had been reading. “You want one too?”
Cadash looked up from the letter he was writing, brow furrowed. “I’ll pass,” he said, motioning to his still-full tankard.
“I got you that three hours ago.”
“There’s been a lot of paperwork.”
Varric chuckled, shaking his head at the other dwarf. “Y’know, those scrolls aren’t gonna run away if you take the rest of the day off.”
Cadash pushed his chair away from the table. Firelight bathed his tired features, and not for the first time Varric wished he could help shoulder his friend’s burdens, if even for a while.
“Thank you Varric, but I’m afraid my conscience won’t let me do that.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have to get these letters back to Josephine by nightfall. Damned Orlesians are being incredibly pushy.”
Varric walked over to where Cadash was sitting. “For what it’s worth,” he said, placing a hand on the other dwarf’s shoulder, “I think you’re doing a great job as the Inquisitor.”
Cadash’s smile was soft, almost unseen in the dimness of the hall. Varric clapped him on the shoulder before making his way out of the hall, but not before saying over his shoulder,
“If you want a refill by the time I’m back, you’re gonna have to get it yourself.”
*
The sun had begun to set by the time Varric returned to the main hall. To say he had been distracted would have been an understatement; the Iron Bull had challenged Krem to a drinking contest, and of course he had to see it through because who wouldn’t? He had left the tavern just as Bull had started yelling about dragons, because he suddenly remembered the last time Bull had had too much to drink. The roof-beam he’d broken had yet to be replaced.
As he approached the final archway into the hall, he paused. A lone figure was walking into the hall, straight towards the table by the fire. Varric hid quickly behind the arch and peeked out. Maker, was that who he thought it was?
“Inquisitor?” Cassandra voice was unsure, which was something Varric thought he would never hear.
“Cassandra!” The surprise in Cadash’s voice was evident. A scraping noise followed as he stood up to meet her.
Then, there was an incredibly awkward silence.
“Leliana asked me to… deliver this to you.”
“Oh? She usually sends her ravens for this sort of thing.”
“She seemed to think it appropriate that I deliver this myself.”
There was a rustling of paper, and then more silence as Cadash read the note.
“It’s just a message asking me to report to the War Table tomorrow morning.” He looked up at Cassandra, puzzled. “Is there something I’m missing? Did she tell you anything else?”
“No,” she said, confused as well. “She only informed me that it was urgent that you received it.”
Varric heard a sigh from above his head, and turned around to find Leliana leaning against the arch, shaking her head.
And it finally clicked.
“I must admit, my methods were rather rudimentary,” Leliana said, stroking the head of the raven sat on her arm. “Though I believed that they would have understood by now.”
The hall was now empty, the crowd having trickled off to the mess hall or the tavern. Cassandra and Cadash were the only ones left, and they had just begun to realise this.
The Seeker looked around them, making sure they were alone, before speaking once more.
“Are you well, Edric?” Varric was surprised at the use of Cadash’s first name. Her fingers were clenched tightly at her sides for some reason. “We have not had much time to talk since arriving at Skyhold. I… was concerned for your health.” Varric couldn’t see Cadash’s face, but he could imagine his smile.
“I’m alright, thank you. The healers have done a great job, though it’ll still be a while before I can swing a blade as well as I used to.”
“I’m glad.” And she did sound glad. In fact, she sounded like she wanted to touch him, to feel for herself that he was indeed as well as he said he was. That would explain the clenched fists…
“How are you?” Cadash’s voice was softer now. Varric suddenly felt like he was intruding, even if the two didn’t know he was there. He thought if he should head back to the tavern, but Leliana held up her hand.
“I am alright…” she began, but stopped suddenly. Leliana was trying to hide a smile now, and Varric had to crane his neck to see what was happening.
Cadash had taken Cassandra’s hand.
The Seeker was looking down at their interlocked fingers, her expression unreadable. Cadash looked half afraid, but tentatively brushed his thumb across her knuckles.
“I know we haven’t been out of Skyhold much since we arrived, what with my recovery and all that, but I’ve been meaning to come find you. I… I’ve missed… you.”
Cassandra looked as if she were lost for words.
“Would you like to take a walk?” Cadash offered, smiling up at her. “I’ve heard the view from the battlements can be rather nice.”
It took a second, but the Seeker’s lips slowly tugged with a smile of her own, tentative but warm.
“I would like that.”
And they made their way out of the hall, hand in hand. Varric glanced at Leliana, who was still half hidden in the shadows behind him. She winked at him before disappearing down the hallway, leaving him alone.
Varric chuckled to himself as he made his way back to the fire. Maker knows how much blackmail he has against the Seeker now.