It had started off as the worst day ever. Varric had stayed behind at Skyhold, so Ellana had to wait the week it took to return there in order to tell him the bad news. “No ravens,” she’d said.
He was her friend and he was Hawke’s friend. He deserved to be told face to face.
Someone had let slip, though. By the time Ellana arrived back at court, Varric was staring at the fire, his eyes red and puffy with Tramp whining at his feet.
There was no sneaking up on Varric, no matter how light or tentative the footstep. Ellana saw him cringe from behind at her approach.
“Did I ever tell you about the time Hawke was on a Merchant Guild hit list?” he began. “Hawke’s uncle got into an investment scheme with a couple of merchant caste businessmen.
They took a lot of people’s coin to arrange the import of wandering hills from the Anderfels. A delicacy, I’m told.
” He turned around and looked at her briefly before he started to pace the floor . “Their weird, foreign foodstuffs arrived...
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