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Messere,
I’m fine. Mostly. Still got all the important bits, anyway. No real cause for concern, so don’t worry your pretty head.
Thedas, on the other hand…
You might’ve heard by now, but the Conclave -ended with a bang-. Too soon. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. It’s a mad house here, everyone scrambling to pick up the pieces and make sense of a bad situation. It’s impossible to know how many died on that mountain, but it’s a fair bet that most of them were Important. Naturally, people being people, everyone’s looking for someone to lead them and for someone to blame.
There’s this woman, you’d like her, fell right out of the fucking Fade. Supposed to be the Herald of Andraste or some such shit. I think we’re friends, if you can believe that. I’m friends with a walking, talking Saint. This must be what it’s like when someone you know gets elevated to paragon.
Anyway, she’s both of those things - the one everyone wants to blame, and also the person leading the Inquisition’s charge. That’s what they’re calling it, anyway. Why didn’t we come up with a fancy name for our ragtag group of Champion disciples? Would’ve really added to the book.
Every single one of them would hate the word disciple. (Except maybe Choir Boy? On second thought, maybe especially Choir Boy.) They can barely stand the word family. But I’m man enough to admit that I worship the ground you walk on, so I’ll wear the badge with honor, just for you.
The world’s gone to hell again, Messere. I think I need to stay, at least until things calm down. The Inquisitor - that’s the new title they’re thinking of giving the Herald, do you want a second one? - is doing a remarkable job holding things together. But everyone wants a piece of her, sometimes literally. She’s got advisors and devotees babbling in her ear all hours of the day, and when it’s not that, it’s a bunch of threats and other nugshit from everyone who wants her dead. She needs someone that doesn’t ask her for things, someone to listen. To keep her grounded.
Cue one Varric Tethras, professional friend, to the rescue. It’s a big job, but someone’s got to do it.
If the Herald buckles, this whole damn circus goes down with her, and then we’re all dead.
I want to be there, with you and the nugs. More than I want some decent whiskey and a reliable supplier of bolts for Bianca somewhere in these snow-blasted hills. But someone’s got to babysit these fools before they turn on each other. I’m doing it for M and V, for you, for us. I have to stay.
Shit, I know it sounds like a bunch of excuses. Or maybe it doesn’t. Hard to keep perspective when the world keeps blowing up - by way of multiple religious sites going up in an explosive beam of light, by the way. Seriously, the resemblance was uncanny. I’d say you should’ve been there, but you really don’t want to be anywhere near this shit.
I know this letter is unforgivably late, and you’re probably already on a ship to Ferelden. Don’t. Or rather, turn your stubborn, voluptuous ass back around and go home. We’ve got it handled. We’ve got a big, bad hero, and a great team around her that’s growing every day. You stay home and keep an eye on the little monsters, and give Red as many headaches as you can manage causing havoc AT HOME.
This is your chance to take a break. I mean this with every ounce of love and adoration my short-but-very-burly body can hold - We. Don’t. Need. You.
Give everyone a kiss for me - give yourself a little something extra, while you’re at it, and know I’m thinking of you every godsdamned minute in this frigid wasteland.
Love,
Var
P.S. - I fully expect you to keep the letters coming. I want pages and pages of how desperate you are to have me home and how the world has no color without me there. Also, full reports on how M’s archery is coming along, and every audacious story V tells trying to get her brother in trouble. I could use the laughs.
P.P.S. - Address them to Flissa at the Singing Maiden. I did her a favor awhile back, and she says my storytelling at the tavern is good for business, anyway. She’s no Corff - thank the Maker! Ha! - and she said I could get my more sensitive correspondence through her. I think New Red is still reading all of my mail, and I can’t very well keep up the Lady Dunwald routine if I really want to make you miss me. She doesn’t have that scar on her inner thigh, for one.
P.P.P.S. - I love you.
***
Marian,
I said don’t come. Please just listen for once. I’m fine, we’re all fine here.
-So what if I ended up in the future and got infected by-
-Alright, so there’s red lyrium cropping up everywhere, which is doing wonders for my guilt complex-
-Charmer banished all the mages under First Enchanter Fiona, which is pretty much all the mages in Ferelden, so it’s good you’re not-
I love you. Please stay home.
I promise I am completely fine,
Varric
***
Messere,
-It happened again-
***
Sweetheart,
-Most of us escaped, but it was-
***
Marian,
-THERE WAS A FUCKING DRAGON-
***
My wonderful wife and the absolute love of my life who has never reacted in a self-destructive manner to any bad news ever,
-Corypheus is-
***
Hawke,
Please come.
We need you.
V