You are cordially invited to the wedding of Varric Tethras and Selena Hawke,
"You simply must tell us how you got engaged!"
Hawke grinned. "Oh… well Varric actually caught me a dragonling. I proposed on the spot. I've always wanted a dragon."
Viscount and Champion of Kirkwall,
"How did you make an honest woman of the Champion?"
Varric chuckled. "She rescued me from pirates. Do you know what they do to dwarves? You don't want to. I don't know how to swim. Hawke swam with me on her back all the way to Amaranthine's harbour; I fell to my knees and begged her to marry me."
Son of Ilsa and Andvar Tethras,
"Was it as romantic as his books? I adored Swords & Shields!"
Hawke nodded seriously. "Oh yes, I rode up on a griffon in fact. He had a bouquet of flowers and carried me into a meadow to ravish me."
Daughter of Leandra Amell and Malcolm Hawke,
"I heard she turns into a dragon. Does she turn into a dragon?"
Varric leaned in and lowered his voice, "After the sun goes down, she lets me ride her. I just have to avoid the fire. And the tail. The bite marks fade."
The Viscount's Gardens in Kirkwall,
"Was it love at first sight?"
Hawke and Varric looked at each other. "Absolutely," they said together.
The 30th of Justinian, 9:44 Dragon.
"Bran," Hawke called, "aren't you done writing those yet?"
The seneschal looked up irritably as Hawke entered his office, her mabari, Dane at her heels. A stack of freshly written invitations was on one side of Bran, while a larger stack of unwritten ones towered over him. "Apologies, Champion," Bran barely managed to contain his contempt and did not sound the least bit apologetic as he glared at the brunette mage and her wardog standing in his doorway. "I must ensure all the proper dignitaries are invited…you are marrying the Viscount, after all."
Hawke did not wait for an invitation to enter and plopped down on Bran's desk, causing his stack of unwritten invitations to scatter all over the floor. He shot her a murderous look as he began to clean them up. Dane helpfully chose this moment to walk all over the fallen invitations. Hawke scratched him behind the ears, ignoring Bran's seething rage.
"Bran, I'm marrying Varric. To the void with the dignitaries. I can count on my fingers the people I want invited to this wedding… You're not one of them, by the way. Sorry. I know how much you look forward to telling Varric he's making a huge mistake every day," she rolled her eyes at him as she said this.
Varric appeared in the doorway and at the sight of him Hawke's face lit up. Dane barked a greeting. Bran frowned at the three of them from the floor, continuing to pick up the fallen invitations while muttering about being unappreciated. Varric wrapped his arm around Hawke's waist and said to Bran, "Just think of it Bran, this time next month you'll be able to double the number of people you can turn away from speaking to the Viscount and the Viscountess. Isn't that what's truly important?"
Hawke glared at Bran. "As long as you never try telling me I can't speak to the Viscount. I'll set you on fire." Dane growled menacingly for emphasis.
Bran forced an insincere smile for Hawke. "Of course, Champion," he drawled. "Wouldn't dream of it."
Hawke, Varric and Bran were host to a growing number of guests in Kirkwall over the next few weeks as Bran continued to send out invitations. Aveline complained to Hawke bitterly more than once that the wedding was causing more trouble than the city needed, and couldn't Hawke and Varric just elope and get it over with?
Hawke privately agreed. "Why do we need a fancy wedding?" she asked Varric one night. Her feet were thrown across his lap as the two lounged on a couch in her mansion. Varric was reading some manner of important document, something to do with the rebuilding of the docks most likely. Dane snored by the fireplace.
Varric set the papers aside with a sigh. "To appease the nobles, unfortunately," he told her. "It's bad enough that Kirkwall appointed a dwarven Viscount but a lot of people aren't so pleased I'm marrying a mage."
Hawke laughed. "It isn't like our children would be mages," she argued. "Would they…?"
Varric shrugged. "Hell if I know, Hawke." He paused thoughtfully. "I wonder if that's how Enchantment Boy came to be…"
"Are you saying our children would be experts at blowing things up?" Hawke gasped. "Varric, I'm shocked."
He shook his head and pulled Hawke against his chest. She rested her cheek against his chest hair, tangling her fingers in it. His chest rumbled beneath her as he spoke, "Say the word and we elope to Antiva."
Hawke pulled away with a laugh, "Not Antiva, you fiend!"
He smiled and Hawke felt lighter at the love she saw behind his expression. Whenever he smiled at her like that she stopped breathing, amazed at her good fortune. "Isabela could marry us at sea," he suggested instead.
Hawke considered this. "That's actually not half-bad," she said, "except you can't swim. If you fell in, I'd have to jump in after you. You are not light, my love."
Varric's eyes widened. "Did you just call me fat?" he gasped. He spoke to his crossbow on the shelf nearby. "Bianca, did you hear that?"
She smirked and continued running her hands through his chest hair. His eye-lids flickered as he made a pleasured groan. "Don't bring Bianca into this," Hawke muttered, "it's all this chest hair that truly weighs you down."
Varric nodded. "Unfortunately I pledged to my lady-love to never rid myself of it." Once again he looked to his crossbow. "Isn't that right Bianca?"
Hawke rolled her eyes. "Sadly, when you drown at sea, Bianca will not be capable of pulling your hairy ass out of there."
The door to Hawke's mansion was kicked open with a bang, and Varric moved towards his crossbow as Hawke and Dane leaped to their feet. Isabela swaggered into the room and Hawke had all of two-seconds to take in her ludicrously large hat before her friend had thrown her arms around her. Her mabari huffed happily upon realizing the intruder was Isabela, and promptly curled back up by the fire.
"Didn't miss the wedding, did I?" she asked as Hawke spluttered through the other woman's hair in her face.
Varric huffed out a laugh. "No, Rivaini."
Isabela released Hawke and stepped back. "Good. Fenris and I rushed back as fast as we could. He's docking the ship," she giggled. "'Docking the ship'. I meant literally. We had sex before we got here."
"Varric and I could never get married without you two, who would start the brawl at the ceremony?" Hawke asked.
Isabela smiled crookedly. "I'm sure you would, and Varric and Aveline would have to deal with cleaning your guests up afterwards."
"It's much better for my reputation with the nobles of Thedas if I can blame the brawl on my uncontrollable pirate friend and her escaped slave of an elven lover, however," Hawke teased, grinning at Varric. "After all, I'm to be the Viscountess."
Varric sighed. "We really need to elope."
Fenris entered the room, apparently having finished docking the ship. "I heard a rumour a magister was coming to your wedding, Hawke?" he asked dangerously.
Hawke and Isabela laughed while Varric groaned softly.
