The next few days flew by for Varric. That morning he woke and quickly dressed in the newest set of armor the Inquisitor had given him, and pulled his duster on over that. Bianca settled between his shoulders on his back, a comfortable and welcome weight. He made one last check of his pack and his bolt quiver before he left his room. The party the Inquisitor had chosen gathered in the courtyard. The Iron Bull stood next to his large draft horse chatting with Dorian.
Varric went to his own mount, a tall pony, just right in size for a man of his height. He fed the pony a piece of apple, purposefully left over from the dwarf's breakfast. Varric really didn't have much experience with horses, but so far he seemed to get along with the beast. He loaded his pack and walked over to Bull and Dorian, while they waited for the Inquisitor.
Bull perked up when he saw the dwarf, "Hey Varric, did you get that thing I asked about?"
"It should be here the next time we get back. Not easy to find, by the way."
"How do you guys live without this stuff?" The Iron Bull's eyebrow lifted in shock.
"I don't see what the deal is, honestly, but different tastes."
"Now I just need some hot milk and some of those Orlesian guimoauves to put in it."
"Hey, whatever you do with this 'cocoa' is up to you. I don't need to hear about it." Varric shuddered and started to move back towards his pony. Suddenly, he heard Iron Bull give a long slow intake of breath. Not a gasp, almost the opposite, like a sigh. Varric turned and saw Inquisitor Corwyn coming down the stairs from the keep. Varric shocked himself by not grinning, but he turned to look back at Iron Bull. The big qunari was already turning to his giant horse, and Varric wondered if he'd imagined it.
The party mounted up and in no time was on their way across the stone bridge from Skyhold. Mounted, it took them a couple days to get up to Crestwood. They arrived during a cold, dark, drenching rain. They found the forward camp and Varric was surprised to see the normally chipper Scout Harding looking more like a drowned rat than a dwarf. Of course, he couldn't blame her much. They all dismounted and waited while Corwyn consulted with Harding about the area. Varric stood, the collar of his duster pulled up as high as he could get it. Good thing it was a little oversized, so he could keep most of the wet off Bianca. As it was, it might be a good idea to oil her every night until the rain stopped. At this point, he couldn't wait for them to set out and find Hawke.
~*~
It took them three more days before they walked up a hill towards the cave where Hawke was waiting. In that time, they'd fought a castle full of bandits, drained a lake, and closed a rift in the bottom of said lake. At least once they'd taken the castle they'd been able to claim it for the Inquisition and have warm dry beds and hot meals. Miraculously once they'd closed the rift in the lake, the rain had stopped. It worked really well, dramatically, but Varric didn't want to think about how a tear in the fade could affect the weather.
The cave had a wooden gate, or door, across it. Painted on the door was a white skull wearing a red bandana across its eyes. Before that was a lone figure, lithe and slender, sitting on a large stone, a staff across her knees. Hawke slid off the rock, as they approached. She sent a warm smile to Varric before clasping the hand of the Inquisitor.
"Glad you made it. I just got here myself. My contact with the Wardens should be at the back of the cave." Hawke told them, before leading them inside.
Varric watched Hawke as Warden Stroud talked to the young women about the Wardens and Corypheus. He could see Hawke getting angrier and more animated. Not at Stroud, but the whole situation was shit. Before long it was time to go. Hawke and Stroud were going to meet them at an old Warden outpost in the Western Approach. Lucky for him, Hawke planned on staying with them in the castle before leaving in the morning with Stroud.
As the group walked across the fields, Hawke and Varric walked side by side talking and laughing. Varric was very aware how close Hawke was walking to him, her hand almost touching his with each swing. Of how her eyes shined with mischief. A part of him wondered if she was aware of how close they were physically. Another part of him was terrified that she was aware.
Varric hadn't realized how far behind they'd lagged behind until a shout caught both of their attention. The Inquisitor had stumbled over a rift in an abandoned farm field. Demons, walking dead, and even a dark spawn emissary had appeared. As they ran to catch up, Hawke pulled her staff and called a fireball storm to rain down on the field of battle. Instantly Bianca was in Varric's hands, singing as he launched bolt after bolt into the fray.
As a shade fell Varric shouted out, "Another one for me! How many have you got, Hawke?!" Bianca was magic in his hands, and fighting beside Hawke felt right and comfortable, like pulling on an old glove. He knew without looking that Hawke would be forward of him, towards the rift, and a little to the left. She'd always trusted him to watch her back, and they fell into their normal battlefield routine easily.
He looked across the field, scanning for another target he saw a green glow begin behind Hawke. A terror demon popped out of the ground behind her, throwing the mage down. Snarling, Varric brought Bianca around and rapid fired three shots right into the thing's face. He ran forward, releasing Bianca's bayonnet. "Bianca, baby, introduce yourself!" He shouted as he sunk the blade into the demon's gut. The demon shattered. Varric spun around to find Hawke on the ground behind him, leftover frost from her spell leaking from her fingers, her eyes wide.
Varric put Bianca on the ground next to Hawke as he put his hand out to pull Hawke to her feet. He ran his hands up her arms, spinning her around so he could look her over. "You alright, Marian?"
"I'm fine, Varric." She pushed him aside, swinging her staff at another demon that was coming for his back. He pushed down his feelings and snatched Bianca up again, and resumed picking off targets.
Suddenly there were no more enemies. Corwyn stepped forward, she held her hand with the anchor toward the rift, closing it. The blonde elf sunk to her knees. Dirt and blood mixed on her chest, where she'd caught a magic blast from the emissary. The Iron Bull stepped forward, a healing potion in his hand. He uncorked it with his teeth and helped her drink it, leaning her against him. Dorian also stepped forward, casting a healing spell on her. The elf looked up, smiling at both men who looked at her with concern in both their eyes. Bull helped her up, his arm lingering around her shoulders, perhaps a little longer than was necessary, before Corwyn turned and led them towards the castle.
Varric looked up at Hawke to see if she noticed. She looked down at him an eyebrow raised. Varric just smirked. He hid his fear from the battlefield behind that turn of his lips. Yes, he'd been terrified when he'd seen Marian go down. So terrified he'd put Bianca down in the middle of a battle. Thinking back about it sent chills down his spine. Nobody ever recovered from being thrown down by a terror demon right away, but the sight of her on her back with that demon screaming above her... Varric shuddered and pushed the thought away.
~*~
Varric collected a plate of food and walked to where Hawke sat, staring into the fire, her plate in hand. He sat down next to her, arms almost touching. Hawke smiled absently at him as he began eating. It wasn't as good as what they got at Skyhold, but it wasn't bad for camp food. He slowly ate, waiting for Hawke to talk. He knew she would, at some point, but not until she was ready. Varric sipped his ale and took another bite, willing to wait. Hawke sighed and Varric smirked. Here it came...
"Varric, do you miss it?"
Varric chewed and swallowed. "It?"
"Kirkwall."
