Chapter Text
9:42 Dragon
Blondie,
He’s dead. I’m sorry.
There it was, written out at last, the terrible ending to Varric’s story.
The fire in the hearth has long since turned to cold cinders as the figure seated beside it finally relinquishes the letter held tight in its hand. The leaf of parchment flutters lifelessly to the ground, but the words remain, seared like a brand onto his mind.
He’s dead.
The moons peer through the window like a set of eyes. Shadows stretch along the wall, the hands of ghosts reaching out to strangle him. If he waits here long enough, they’ll suffocate him. He wishes they would. Justice would never allow it.
He drops his head into his hands. His palms press into his eyes. The silver ring on his finger feels cold against his forehead.
He knew this would happen. He had begged him not to leave.
He’s dead.
Despair runs through him. It screams in his head. It curdles his blood. A familiar presence cradles his mind in azure light in an attempt to assuage him, but his anger is too strong. It consumes his thoughts. It fills the absence. It takes over his body.
Someone will pay for Hawke’s death.
Anders will have Vengeance.