Chapter Text
Viscount Tethras sat at his stone desk, watching as his seneschal fed him page after page from a stack of documents. The man barely paused for breath as he went over the next day's agenda and the most important documents that would need to be read and signed. With the size of the stack, the dwarf wasn't sure how he was going to have time for his audiences and meetings. A headache was starting to form between his eyes.
Varric cleared his throat and interrupted the intoning of the man beside his desk, "Bran, You've read these. Thoughts?"
"Well, My Lord, these are trade arrangements," he placed on more page on the small stack in front of Varric. "These are petitions to purchase tracts of land and other properties," another, smaller, stack was placed. "And these are proposals." This appeared to be the largest piece of the stack.
"Proposals of what?" Varric eyed the stack of papers that was fully half of the original pile.
"Contract proposals." The man’s brogue rumbled.
Varric turned his eyes to the redhead beside him. The dwarf gave the man a glare that, once upon a time, would have stilled a carta member’s hand and made him think of how he’d lived his life. Bran merely gave him an unimpressed look in return. “What kind of contracts, Bran. Its not like I’ve never seen a contract before.
“They’re betrothal contracts, sir. Many of the aristocracy, your council included, think its time for you to consider a bride, beget heirs.”
“Great Ancestors, why?” The thought sent shivers down his spine. It was his mother all over again, but this time it was half the city.
“You have held this office for several years now, it is high time...”
“Not you too?!”
“...that you saw to finding a bride and reproducing. The dwarven fertility rate not with standing. We don’t need to find ourselves in the same mess we were in after the Arishok killed Viscount Dumar. I don’t know that Kirkwall can handle another power struggle. And your council is going to tell you the same thing.”
Varric frowned, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to eleviate the pressure. He picked up his glass of whiskey and took a pull.
“You’re not going to talk your way out of this one. The city needs this.” Bran sternly lectured.
“I know. I know! I just... wasn’t expecting this.” Varric looked up at the raised eyebrow. “I wasn’t expecting this yet, Bran. I thought they’d leave me alone for a few more years. Everything is still chaotic, even if it’s just below the surface. The Inquisition...”
“The Inquisition released you, and you’ve taken up a different post. Varric, the time for your fun is over.”
“Maker’s balls, you make me sound like I’m an old man.”
“You aren’t getting younger.”
“Thanks for reminding me.” He let out a sigh. “I’ll look at them tomorrow.” ‘If I find time.’ He added to himself.
“Very good. You have an eight o’clock with your council. I will see you in the morning.”
“Good night, Bran.” Varric grumbled. As the door clicked shut he knocked back the last of the whiskey in his glass and sank back in his chair. This is just what he needed. Not that he minded the idea, but what would he do with a wife? He certainly didn’t have the time for one. He barely had enough time to manage the rebuilding of the city, and the complaints, let alone his spy network and work for Nightengale. He was able to at least keep the Merchant’s Guild at bay with city business. He felt bad enough that his correspondence with Hawke was usually later than he’d like, only because he had to fit it in right before bed. He snorted to himself, that is; if he had time before he dropped like shot druffalo.
Pulling himself out of his chair, Varric leaned over and blew out the candelabra on his desk. He grabbed Bianca from beneath his desk, caressing the warm stock of her before sliding her into her holster across his back. Some habits died hard, and being far from his beloved crossbow was one of them. Varric grabbed the night candle at the door before letting himself out of his office and walking down the hall to his private apartments.
The guard outside his door snapped to attention as he approached, and saluted. Varric returned the salute sarcastically, “Matthau, havn’t I told you that you can relax around me? Especially when its just the two of us?”
“Yes, Sir! Captian Aveline caught me not snapping to when you came home two nights past. She reamed me good. Told me if she caught me again, I’d be on night time dock patrol.”
Varric sighed, “Well, alright then.” He let himself in and went straight to his bed chamber. Not that he knew what his front rooms looked like in daylight. Or any light. He never spent enough waking time in these rooms to know. He placed Bianca on her rack before stripping so he could slip into his bath; the benefits of power. He noticed the letter from Hawke on his private desk, where he’d left it the night before. Walking naked to the table, he grabbed it, ripped it open and began reading as he slid into the the hot water with a sigh.
It was the usual stuff. Wardens were annoying, Wardens were pigheaded. She’d gotten them to heed her warnings about Corypheus, but that had been about it. It was her closure that really caught his attention.
I’m done with this place, Varric. Time to head home. I’m leaving in the morning, so should arrive on the heels of this letter. Hopefully you’ve had the mansion cleaned and aired out, otherwise I’ll go to your old place in the Hanged Man.
All my Love
Your Friend
Marianne Hawke