A Future to Be Had (a Dragon Age fanfiction)

Hawkeless

Varania was gone for a long time; an interminable time during which Fenris could only stand there and imagine his sister and the love of his life battling to the death on the streets of Minrathous. Hawke's death, he was certain. No Tevinter Magister could lose here on their home ground. Perhaps Varania wouldn't find her, though—perhaps she would attack the ship. Certainly they would have come in the Temptress. Bethany, Isabela, Varric, Hawke ... Bianca. He imagined them in a ship on fire, being swept beneath the waves. How could he have been so foolish as to underestimate Varania again? How could he not have recognized what Varania had so easily, that once she had taken time to consider the situation Hawke would not give up on him? She had sworn that she would always come for him—he had conveniently forgotten that vow, hoping it would be subsumed under the weight of responsibility and good sense. But that sort of thinking was not Hawke's way. It never had been.

He could not stand still. Under Esperanza's watchful eye, he paced the room, muttering to himself. He needed to be out there, to be doing something ... and here he was immured in this elegant room in this prison of an estate, and by his own hand, no less! No wonder Hawke had been able to walk away from him. He had underestimated her, as well, time after time.

The door opened, and he retreated to his "official" position, behind Varania's desk and a foot to the left. Esperanza got to her feet and took position on the other side of the desk. Varania glanced at him as she entered the room, her eyes gleaming with suppressed mirth, and he felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. That look boded poorly for him and for those he loved.

Behind Varania three set-faced figures marched in, and Fenris's heart pounded. What were they doing here? Bethany, who crossed her arms and fixed him with a look of burning anger; Isabela, whose golden eyes held disappointment as they fixed on his. They arranged themselves behind Varania's guest chair, in positions facing those of Fenris and Esperanza. Varric was the third figure, his anger all the more palpable for the fact that he didn't so much as glance in Fenris's direction as he took the chair across from Varania's desk. The chair was specifically smaller than usual to make the person who sat in it feel small, but it had the opposite effect on Varric. The dwarf commanded the room. A fourth person, whom Fenris recognized with surprise as Aveline's young son Freddy, closed the door and leaned against it.

For once, Fenris was glad that he wasn't allowed to speak. He didn't think he could have formed coherent sentences from the random fragments of "how—", "what—", and "huh?" that filled his mind.

"We won't beat around the bush, Magister," Varric said. "Where is she?"

Varania sank gracefully into her chair. "I assume by 'she' you mean the Champion? How should I know?"

"You b—" Bethany began, but she cut herself off, pressing her lips together and glaring more forcefully at Fenris than before.

"You expect us to believe the Champion could sneak in here and back out again without you knowing about it. I beg your pardon, Magister, but that is beneath your formidable reputation. And would be a surprising feat for Hawke. She was never much of a sneaker." Varric smiled, leaning back into the chair. He was the only truly relaxed person in the room, and his confidence was disarming.

"Flattery is beneath you, Master Tethras."

"I wouldn't bother to ply you with cheap flattery. I know you—and your relations—too well for that." Varric didn't bother to glance at Fenris, but the implication was obvious.

"And you expect that, if I did know what had happened to your Champion, I would tell you? Why is that?"

"We would be pleased to take her back to Kirkwall, and to guarantee that she didn't return here."