Disclaimer: BioWare owns all characters, but I love them so much I take them out to play!
Varric realized the late hour only when he stopped in front of Hawke's estate, but he had walked all the way from The Hanged Man to check up on his friend. She had been busy the last few days and hadn't taken him on any of her campaigns. He remembered the evil grin on Fallon's face when she told him he had to make a couple of appearances at the Merchant's Guild before they tried to assassinate him again for not playing by their rules. "I can't have my favorite dwarf end ass up in a ditch somewhere. Placate them and pretend to give a damn for a few days so they back off and then we can celebrate with ale and Wicked Grace." He knew she was right and that was why he was dying of boredom and standing in front of Hawke's house at half past nine.
Huffing in irritation and embarrassment (something he would never admit, of course) he knocked confidently on the door. Sandal opened the door a little and peeked through the crack. Upon seeing Varric grinning at him he threw the door wide open and gave a winning smile. "Lady is upstairs, sir! She will be happy to see you."
Varric thanked the boy and headed through the house. It still felt empty without Leandra and he wondered why Hawke continued to live here. She could easily relocate to any of the other mansions available in Hightown. The nobles moved just as often as they changed their underwear, always trying to show each other up. But maybe that was why she didn't. This was her mother's house and the best way to honor her memory was to keep it. He shook his head sadly. Poor Fallon.
He paused outside of her bedroom door to recollect his thoughts and prepare a witty comment about being left behind. Varric pushed the door open and walked in the room then stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner of the entryway.
Hawke was sitting in a tub of steaming hot water, her dark wavy hair piled elegantly on top of her head; a few tendrils had escaped and clung to the moisture on her neck. She was facing him, but her head was leaning back against the marble and her eyes were closed. The water had obviously been scented with oil, possibly rose or geranium, filling her room with the heady fragrance. Her sun-kissed skin popped beautifully against the white background of the tub and he could see the faint dusky tips of her breasts through the water.
Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks! How does she hide that body under all that armor? And why the hell am I still here? Move Tethras. Varric tried to move his feet, but he was frozen in shock, in awe, in horror. His heart was pounding rapidly and his mouth was suddenly too dry. He could be smooth with women, hell, he could even flirt with Hawke on occasion, but this was too intimate. He knew she would never return his deep, unspoken feelings for her. He was Varric – a friend, a storyteller, and a dwarf.
"Enjoying the view, Varric?" The dwarf nearly swallowed his storytelling tongue and then turned an indescribable shade of red. Hawke's throaty chuckle caused him to shiver involuntarily which only made her laugh more.
Trying to recover his suave, unaffected demeanor Varric responded, "Why yes, I am. When were you planning on letting it be known that you were watching me, hmm?" He nonchalantly crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. She didn't need to know it was because without the support behind him he was going to fall on his ass and look even more ridiculous.
Hawke flicked her hand airily, flinging small droplets of water his direction, "Maybe never. I was amused by your facial expressions. I could swear that one of them was fear." Her eyes twinkled merrily. He grunted and refused to meet her gaze for too long.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of having my favorite dwarf in my bedchamber at such a late hour?" She smirked as he shifted uneasily against the wall.
Varric sighed and ran a hand shakily across his stubble. "I'm sorry to come so late. Maybe I should come back tomorrow, when the sun is up and you're awake, and dressed. It's less distracting that way." His attempt at humor only caused her to frown.
"You don't have to leave, Varric. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You are okay, aren't you? I hope the Merchant's Guild didn't give you too much trouble." Varric saw the concern in her face as her delicate eyebrows furrowed above her bright blue eyes and his heart skipped a beat. He used to always assume that her concern for him was platonic, but now he wasn't too sure. She was still very naked and hadn't thrown him out on his ear for disrupting her leisure time.
Hawke was pleased to see his signature smirk. "No, no. I just wanted to come see you. Have I ever told you that I hate being left behind on your adventures? How will I be able to get all the details right later if I'm not there to witness your ass-kicking skills myself?"
She laughed again and the movement caused the water to move enough that one of her pink nipples was briefly visible and Varric had to swallow a groan. Fallon caught his involuntary gasp and watched as he swallowed with difficulty. Poor Varric, I should take pity on the man. She realized that she had never seen Varric show any vulnerability or lose control and it amazed her that she was the cause for his current insecurity. Turning her back to him, she leaned across the tub and reached for her robe so she could step out.
"Holy shit, Fallon!" Varric moved to her side before she could try to hide anything. "What the hell happened to you?" He removed one of his gauntlets and gently ran his fingers across the puckered scars that covered her back.
Hawke was frozen in horror. Shit, shit, shit. She closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against the cold marble edge of the tub and fought to keep the nausea at bay. She took a deep, fortifying breath.
"Back in Ferelden," she whispered. "Father was ill, we knew he was dying, so it was just me protecting the family and trying to keep us from being noticed by the Templars." She paused and felt Varric softly caressing the marks, which calmed her mind and allowed her to keep speaking. "One day, I was out with Bethany getting some household supplies from a traveling merchant in town. I noticed one of the Templars ogling Bethany and I knew what he wanted from her."
Varric hissed through his teeth when he caught the implication in Hawke's words. She chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, exactly. When we were done with our shopping I rushed us out of town. I didn't want Bethany to be hurt or to even know what I was trying to protect her from, but all I could think about was how stupid I was to take her out in the open. I was distracted and I almost missed the Templar as he tried to pull Bethany off the road." Hawke could taste the salt of her tears and watched as they rippled in the water when they fell.
"I pushed him off her and told her to run. 'Run as fast as you can! Don't look back, just run!' He took his metal fist and nearly broke my jaw. I kicked him and tried to run, but he knocked my feet out from under me. I can remember his hollow voice inside his helmet telling me to be a good girl and not scream that I wasn't nearly as pretty as the other one, but that I would do."
Varric just swore quite colorfully and cried silent tears for the young Fallon. Hawke felt his tears fall on her scarred skin and run down the dips and crags of her torn flesh. It was almost like a balm to her young, bruised soul.
"He was quick. It wasn't the first time I had allowed myself to be used in place of Bethany." Varric couldn't hold back his sob at that. "When he was done, though, he told me I needed to be punished for attacking him and taking away what should have been his. That's when he pulled out a whip. He punched me again so I wouldn't try to escape and he flipped me over and tore off my tunic. I lost count of how many times he lashed me after twelve. I woke up on my stomach in my house, my back bandaged and my face swollen and battered. Father was the one who knew healing magic, but he was on his deathbed, so I had to heal without it, which meant it left physical scars to compliment the mental ones."
"Fallon, I'm so sorry." Varric didn't recognize the gravelly voice that accompanied his words. He was never flustered, never phased by misfortune, but this…this was not right. Hawke was indestructible, a rock, a human Paragon of integrity and virtue. Tonight had changed that and they both knew it.
Hawke gasped when she felt Varric's lips on her back. Reverently, his mouth touched every scar on her back and with every touch part of the walls guarding her broken heart crumbled. She knew she was losing the battle to protect herself from feeling pain again, but with Varric it felt right.
The air around her face shifted and she raised her head to see Varric smiling tenderly at her. He stretched out his hand in a silent offer to help her stand, which she took after only a moment's hesitation. Even with Hawke standing before him in all her wondrous glory, at that moment all Varric saw was a fragile woman who needed to be handled with care and he intended to do just that.
He passed her the fluffy towel and then her robe when she was dry enough. Taking her hand he gently led her to her bed and hopped up with a smile. She ducked her head shyly and sat beside him. "Turn your head, Fallon." She was surprised by the tenderness in his words, but she did as she was bid and sighed when she felt his strong, sure fingers untying her hair allowing it to cascade down her back. Varric reached for the brush on the bedside table and began to gently work all the tangles out of her dark mane. He had never realized just how long her hair really was. It was always pulled back when they went anywhere.
"You should wear your hair down more often. It's gorgeous, Fallon and even more soft than I imagined it would be." He smiled softly when she turned to look at him.
"And how long have you imagined touching my hair, Varric?" She flushed prettily at the idea that the man next to her had thought about such a sweet, simple gesture involving her.
He shrugged, "A while. I love watching the way the sun shines off your hair during the day and I love when little curls come lose after a battle. I want to wrap those curls around my fingers." As he spoke he wrapped his fingers into her dark waves and allowed a small moan to pass his lips.
Hawke smiled softly at his admission and then moan of pleasure. She had to admit that she always wondered what it would feel like if he were to bury his rough hands in her tresses, but the reality was much better than fantasy.
"I've always wanted to touch your chest hair," she breathed.
"Touch it, touch me, Fallon." Hawke shivered when his warm breath ghosted across her ear and then she moaned when his soft lips brushed across her neck. She turned around and wrapped her arms across Varric's broad shoulders, eyes flicking between his golden brown eyes and delectable lips.
Varric leaned into her, but gave her room to back out and was very pleased when her lips met his. Their lips were a perfect fit and when she opened her mouth to him, he gently caressed her tongue with his own. He didn't want to push and he wanted her to know that he genuinely cared for her, that she was not going to be a one night fling, that he didn't think he could ever walk away from such a singular, beautiful woman.
Hawke's head was spinning. This was a kiss to put every kiss she had ever considered good to shame. This was a kiss full of promises, of tenderness, of hope. It sent fire coursing through her body which curled itself gently around her broken heart and warmed her soul.
They broke apart and stared at each other in wonder. Varric looked as dazed as she felt, which Hawke had to admit was a nice look for the usually cocky dwarf. Impulsively her small hand reached out and caressed his rough jaw, smirking to see him close his eyes and lean into her touch. Her fingers gently traced a path down to his chest to touch the fabled chest hair. It was surprisingly soft and not too thick, but thick enough that she could run her fingers through it. The skin underneath was just as soft and stretched taut over his muscular frame. She noticed that Varric was breathing deeply, one hand clutching at the bedcovers as he tried to maintain control.
"Let go, Varric," she whispered. "Don't hold back, please. Show me how to please you."
Varric's eyes snapped open in shock. "Fallon," he croaked, "you have no idea what you do to me, do you? Do what you will, m'lady, I'm your slave as long as you keep touching me with those beautiful hands."
She trembled at such an honest admission and blushed again. It was her turn to lean into his hand as it rested against her cheek. "Fallon, I need you to know that I don't take you, us, this," he waved his hand between them, "lightly. I will never be able to see you as just Hawke ever again, but I don't think I've been able to do that for a while anyway." He smiled as she absorbed his words.
"Say it, Varric." Her eyes were begging for reassurance, for the proof that he wouldn't run off and leave her at the first sign of trouble, that he wouldn't beat her or debase her, that he would be everything no man had ever been for her.
He knew what she wanted to hear. What she needed to know before she could go on, and even though he felt it, they were words he'd never spoken to any woman. They were words that could never be taken back once uttered and words that were more valuable than gold, even to a dwarf.
He took her small hand, (very small for a human), and laid it against his heart. "I love you, Fallon Hawke. My heart beats only for you now. I may be a dwarf and therefore, not reach the height requirement for noblewomen, but my heart is the same size as any man. I will love you until my last breath."
Hawke smiled radiantly through her tears. "Oh, Varric, you silver-tongued genius, I love you, too. And I'm the last noblewoman to give a damn about height requirements, I only care about love requirements and you surpassed them all."
Their mouths crashed together once more, fervently promising to seal their pledges throughout the night as clothing flew across the room. When morning dawned on Kirkwall, Bodahn knocked lightly on Lady Hawke's door to see if she required anything, but heard no sound from within. Sandal giggled at the bottom of the stairs and Bodahn was immediately afraid there was another "boom" rune lying around the house.
"What is so funny, Sandal? Lady Hawke is resting, tell me quickly so we can go clean up before she wakes up." He was too old for this, surely.
Sandal grinned from ear to ear. "Lady is with Master Tethras. He came last night." Bodahn nearly fell over and ran back to the bedroom door, carefully opening it and peeking inside. He saw the clothing strewn about the floor and blushed scarlet, he knew he should back out, that it wasn't any of his business whom Lady Hawke took to her bed, but he had to satisfy his curiosity. Glancing towards the large bed he could clearly see Lady Hawke's creamy leg poking out from under the sheets and there, a blonde head of hair on the pillow next to her. Maybe it's Master Anders.
He craned his neck to see better and suddenly saw Varric Tethras sit up beside Lady Hawke and calmly say, "Good morning, Bodahn. I don't suppose you could send up some breakfast, hmm?"
Bodahn sputtered and promptly passed out.
A/N: I don't know if I should leave this here, or continue the story for a couple chapters. Let me know what you guys think! Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :)