I OWN NOTHING Bioware or otherwise!
Also, unbeta'd so any spelling/grammar mistakes are mine alone.
Oh and little FYI Vega means star in latin
She has felt his whisky hued eyes tracking her every movement throughout the days and weeks they've spent traversing the lands, scrutinizing, strategizing, one of those S words that implied picking her apart piece by piece for his own amusement. Even now as he regales their growing troupe with elaborately spun tales by the fire and she seeks refuge in the shadows by her tent, her bronzed skin still tingles every time his gaze passes over her.
She vainly tries to ignore the flutter in her stomach each time he permits her to catch him openly staring, his impish golden eyes meeting and holding her own mismatched crimson and silver ones with a reticent glean.
"Cease this foolishness," she quietly castigates herself after yet another brief staring contest and grinds her pestle into the bowl of dried herbs cradled in her lap with more gusto than necessary, "You are not some insipid, lovelorn maid with a head full of straw. Forget about him-and this persistent stupidity-and remember your sworn duty."
Her little speech appears to have initially done its job, affording her a clear enough head to finish mixing a fresh batch of healing potions before it is time for her to take up the first watch.
Distantly she is aware of her comrades going through the steps of their nightly ritual, slowly but surely abandoning the ring of warmth the fire provides to huddle in their tents. She takes the Seeker slipping into her own meager shelter as her cue to retrieve her new battle staff and only momentarily pauses to tie her long white hair back with a leather thong before setting out for her first lap around the encampments perimeter.
She should have suspected something was amiss immediately when she is forced to shoo the blasted mabari-a flea ridden companion of the storyteller's-a gift from an old friend, he'd said, back to the camp twice inside of an hour.
"Vega, I've been looking for you," Varric jovially admits, the pale light of the autumn moon washing his stout form in pale silver as he emerges from the dark underbrush, "Keep this up and I'm going to start thinking you don't enjoy my company anymore."
Her heart stutters at the sound of her given name rolling off of his tongue, it's normally grating syllables transformed into something beautiful simply by the tone he always seems to use when he said it. Of course he only ever used her given name in private-like now- but even then she is still thankful the scoundrel recalls that she actually did have a moniker she used before the world began calling her "Inquisitor". At times, it felt like he was the only one to remember that fact.
"I've had a lot on my mind, as of late," she evasively hedges while uttering a silent prayer that the dim light is not enough to betray the sudden flush of her face to his keen sight, "I harbored no intentions of offending you nor did I wish to infer that I did not welcome your presence, Master Tethras. As for my apparent distance, you have made it no secret that you prefer more convivial tales over my most maudlin thoughts, so I merely sought to keep my own counsel and refrain from saddling you with my melancholy."
The dwarf mutely ponders this for a moment, then snorts and shakes his head, "I am officially calling bullshit on this one Vega. You have always been able to talk to me about anything and you damn well know that, no matter how depressing the subject matter. So what's the real problem beautiful? Find Sera naked in your tent again? Do you need me and Bianca to have a talk with her about bothering you?"
In spite of her darkened mood, she lets a low chuckle escape, "No, I do not believe Bianca's intervention will be necessary. She-Sera- and I had a discussion and I hope she finally understands that although I am truly flattered by her amorous intent, I cannot return the sentiment. From what I construed earlier, she has now set her eyes on Vivienne, if only to-and I quote-"Loosen her up and take the stick out of her arse."
"So not to be nosy or anything, but does that mean some other lucky sod has captured the eye of our stunningly gorgeous leader then?" he jests, but falls quiet when she simply shrinks into herself defensively and dips her head in a vain attempt to shield her face, "Ah shit Vega, I'm sorry. What happened? Did you and them-whoever they may be-have a row or something? Do I need to go introduce his or her ass to my boot?"
"He doesn't even know how often he haunts my thoughts," Vega timidly confesses, her always husky tone now rife with longing and self loathing, "But I refuse to contaminate our already tenuous friendship with uninvited romantic overtures. It is wholly stupid and selfish of me to desire more than platonic camaraderie when the world is falling apart around us."
Before he can speak, she blows out a heavy sigh and takes a step back from him, "I must apologize to you, for troubling you with my nonsense, when you have more important matters to tend to instead of being affronted by my battered ego."
His hand makes contact with the curve of her spine and its heat immediately begins seeping through the fabric of her robes to saturate her cool flesh. "Personally I think anyone who manages to catch your attention is one lucky son of a bitch and he would be an imbecile indeed to turn away your affections."
"That is easy for you to say," she retaliates with a touch of heat bleeding into her words, "Your true love is a crossbow. She can't turn you away if you said the wrong thing at the wrong time and would not protest if you suddenly decided to set her aside for something you felt was better suited to your tastes. No one could ever hope to compete with those qualities. I never-"
Abruptly she clamps her hand over her mouth in horror, realizing what she'd been about to say, and fear claws at her as he peers up into her mismatched eyes with an inscrutable expression etched onto his chiseled features. A minute slinks by, then two, and just as her feet thaw enough to flee, the hand not on her back darts out to her free one. Her vision blurs with salty tears and she makes a weak attempt to shake off his grasp, but his grip is steadfast.
"You never what?" the storyteller urges, his voice raw and yet tender all the same, "Finish what you were going to say Vega."
She tilts her face to the sky and furiously blinks her eyes to clear her sight. When she has regained a flimsy thread of control, she sighs again, this time in pained resignation, "Why do I have to finish it? I already know what the outcome will be, regardless of any grandiose speech I can construe. Can I not cling to the infinitesimal specks of dignity I still have or must I also be forced to sacrifice them as fodder for one of your tales?"
The fingers moving at her back fluidly evolve from desperate clinging to a tender caress, "I would never tell such a personal story about you Vega. There are still some things in this world even I hold sacred. Please, tell me what you were going to say."
She sniffs back her tears as best she is able, but still refuses to look him in the eye as she resumes talking, "I am a Qunari mage, that alone sealed my fate. I never stood a chance with anyone because I am an amalgamation of two of the most hated beings in all of Thedas. I knew it was folly to ever allow my heart to feel anything but duty, but I am weak. Now I care for a man who will never see me as anything but a comrade in arms or a source of story material. I mean less to him than a damned inanimate object whom he coos and fawns over like a lover. May I continue my watch now? I am done embarrassing myself."
"Vega," Varric murmurs after she forcefully yanks her hand from his grasp and begins stomping away into the dark. When she shows no sign of slowing her pace, he rushes to follow her, "Vega stop. We need to talk about this."
"Why do we need to talk about my humiliation?" she fires back over her shoulder, sorrow now smothered by defiant hurt, "I have no desire to bear witness to your inevitable rejection Serrah, no matter how much honey you drizzle on it. I'd rather you simply forget I have said anything at all, and pretend everything is amicable until it becomes the truth, if you please."
"No I do not please. Dammit!" the scoundrel growls and snatches her arm again, heedless of the eerie green glow the erupts from her, "Andraste's perky ass woman, would you just stop fighting with me for one minute and listen?"
The glow instantly dims and the kossith drops onto an exposed piece of rock with an annoyed huff, "Fine, speak your piece. You allowed me mine, so it is only fair I give you the same respect."
Varric's reply comes in the form of his lips crashing into her own.
