Cassandra sat on the edge of the bed frustrated. She had been interrogating Varric for days and found herself unable to tell whether he was lying or telling the truth any longer. Hoping to find something to help her refocus her questioning, she decided to search his bookshelves. So far nothing. The dwarf kept few things of import. Though he had an impressive book collection for one living in a tavern.
She loved to read, everything from history to smut laden literature, not that she admitted that to anyone. One book at a time she pulled them out, reading the covers until she found one without a cover. Thinking it odd to see a book without a title on the cover at least, she opened it.
"Fenris left me. When, I woke up he stood dressed staring into the fire. I suppose I should be thankful that he could not leave without saying goodbye. Maker, my heart is shattered. I won't hear the end of this. Anders warned me that Fenris was not worth it. Anders is wrong though. The hours I spent in Fenris' arms proved that we belong together. The night I spent with Anders was a mistake; I knew it right away."
This was Hawke's journal. Why did Varric have Hawke's journal? Cassandra moved to sit back on the bed. She smirked as she made herself comfortable. Varric was in the Gallows when he wasn't being questioned, so his bed sat made and available. Cassandra flipped the pages, most entries were a few paragraphs long. They were longer when someone died. Hawke took the time to consider the person and how their life should have gone.
Hawke's journal read as idealistic most of the time, Varric's name sprinkled throughout the text. Her best friend, but she still had not told him everything regarding the breakup. There were pages and pages of her pouring her heart out over Fenris, broken up by Varric's antics, Isabela's flirting, and Anders' anger. And then a phrase caught her eye, "It was my fault, Varric whispered . . ." What did Varric mean when he said Leandra's death was his fault? By all accounts he was killed by a mad blood mage bent on bringing his wife back to life. Cassandra flipped to the first page of the entry and started to read.
Fenris came again tonight, to offer comfort. What did he know of family or comfort? We sat for a while, staring at the fire, neither one touching. I asked him if it was my fault that Mother was captured. He didn't think placing blame was the answer. I was grateful that he came, that he cared enough to be alone with me. I know he is as miserable as I am being apart.
The last time we were in my room we spent hours exploring each other's bodies. We made love, and then he left. Fenris still hurts. It has been months since we called it off, and yet he hurts. When, I reached for him at the funeral he jumped away. The rejection tore at me as much as losing my mother.
I wanted to cry when he left me tonight, but to cry alone in this monstrosity of a house felt wrong. The door clicked and there was silence. The staff was all sent to bed hours ago. Was it always this quiet at this hour? Surely something must be normal about the muted air. The lump in my throat refused to budge as I stared at the fire, I knew it should be hot, the glow lit the room. I was numb. Maker, why didn't I have someone stay with me? Instead I sent them all home.
The fire popped angrily, startling me. I remembered Carver's teasing at how easily I jumped when deep in thought, and Bethany always trying to convince him to be nicer. They were both dead now, with mother and father. Mother blamed me for both their deaths. She was right, I should have told them no. I should have made them listen to her.
When the ogre attacked Carver ran right in, always trying to be the little hero. He wanted to do something big to get attention, our constant running to protect Bethany stifled him. I was never one to lay low. I picked up odd jobs, helped farmers get rid of wild animals, helped medics get herbs. He was always trying to live up to me, he even joined the army against the blight just to prove that his skills as a warrior were more useful than mine as a rogue.
Bethany, Maker she was the best of us. Bethany wanted to get mother's estate back. That is the only reason we went on that blasted deep roads expedition. The blighted deep roads took her for our greed. The look on her face when I… no not tonight. Bethany begged me to let her go to the deep roads, sure we got the family home, but she never made it home from the Dwarven ruins. After eating deep mushrooms for weeks on end Bethany died from the darkspawn taint.
Mother didn't talk to me until we moved into her family home. It took months for everything to be resolved, deeds traced, items sold. Money was no longer an issue. Despite the layer of grief that took over our life, Mother was relieved to be in her childhood home. Slowly she stopped scowling at me from over the balcony. One day she hugged me and apologised. I thanked her, not believing I deserved forgiveness.
When a suitor left her flowers I thought it was sweet, and decided not to worry. How could she be so wrong? The man was a monster. My poor mother, used as part of an experiment by a psychopathic mage. I should have known, but no. What could have been more important than my mother's safety? Sure I spent a lot of time helping people, but obviously I did not try hard enough.
Tonight I need a drink, and then hopefully some sleep. Tomorrow I will see if Isabela will take over one of the rooms for a while. I can not stay here alone. I need someone here. I wonder if Isabela found my hidden bottle of rum. It is Isabela's favorite, so I keet it hidden.
I thought my night was over. I was wrong. I went to the library and grabbed the rum. Not wanting to think about correspondence, thank you letters, work. I sat on my desk with my feet on the chair, I took a swig. A chuckle startled me from the doorway. Varric stood there, smiling when I jumped. I glared at him as I took a longer drink from the bottle.
Varric leaned against the door. His usual smile looked darker than normal, pasted on his face. He came to comfort me. He came just as Fenris walked in, and stayed waiting outside as Fenris left an hour later. He asked how "Broody" was doing and I just shook my head. It was too much, Mother told me to be patient. Maker, what am I going to do without her?
I took another drink before I leaned forward putting my head on my legs. Varric moved closer, his hand rested on my shoulder unraveling my self-control. I did not want to cry,refused to cry. He urged me to sit in the chair and I followed his lead. The tears broke free as I sat, my eyes watered and they flowed.
"Shit," Varric said, taking the bottle away. He put the cap back on before putting it back in its hiding spot. That Varric knew where it went caught my attention. He spent plenty of time here, laughing and joking. Sometimes he came over just to play cards, he charmed mother, the staff adored him. He truly is my best friend.
I told him it was my fault, I needed to hear him tell me it was my fault. I cried into my elbow with my head on my desk. Varric stood next to me his hand rubbing my back until I turned and instead put my head on his shoulder.
"Hawke," he started, and then stopped. Varric did not know how to handle crying people, but I needed him to hold me. Maker, I do not know why I needed him to hold me so bad. He was my best friend but, with few exceptions. We did not hug. I was the one that hugged friends and let them cry until they finished. Varric told jokes until we stopped bitching and moved on to another topic.
I fell to my knees pulling Varric closer, my head on his chest. Varric coughed, my body now pressed against him. My breathing slowed as his hand stroked the back of my head. The sobbing stopped. I realized he was rocking me as he whispered soothing words in my ear.
I can't remember what he said, but it shook me to my core. He was wrong. He said something concerning me being good and loving, but he was wrong. We both knew the truth. It was my fault: Bethany and Carver.
"Tell me it's my fault she is dead," I demanded. Varric's face contorted as if I had smacked him. He shook his head. Softer I tried again I explained that I should have put guards on her. I had the money. Varric was having none of it. He refused to tell me what I needed to hear. He looked lost, swallowing back something. Then he hung his head, and rubbed his neck. Shit things never went well when it started like that. He told me he couldn't tell me I was to blame for something he did.
"It was my fault." Varric whispered loud enough to be heard. I stood shocked for a moment. I couldn't believe what I was hearing! No Varric could not be to blame. We went hunting for the killer together. I made Varric, Anders, and Fenris join me to find my mother. He was just as upset as I was when we found her pieced together. Maker no one should die like that.
Varric's head slumped as he turned away, his hands twisting, nervously. He explained that he hired men to follow her as he did "Daisy and Sunshine." Which made his statement make less sense. He could not be responsible if he did more for my mother than I did.
When I thought I would go crazy from his silence he explained to me that recent additions to his men turned out to be bad hires. Varric liked the new guards to watch Anders clinic for a while. Anders could defend himself if need be. There had been a breakdown in communication, the new guy fell asleep outside and Mother went out alone.
I tried to make the words make sense. No, Varric wasn't to blame. He left instructions. The men ignored the instructions. I turned to forgive him for his role. He carried the guilt as an anchor, admitting his imagined crimes against me.
Mother adored him. She suggested one day, as he drank our bourbon and played Wicked Grace, that he should court me. Varric laughed at the suggestion. He pointed to his crossbow with a hint of a frown. He claimed he needed Bianca and enough coin to buy drinks at the Hanged Man and he was happy. It did not stop him from joining us for dinner and teaching Mother Wicked Grace, making her smile more than she did any other day.
I reached out and stroked his cheek, Maker what possessed me to do that? He shaved daily, but today he left slight stubble. My fingers acted on their own will and grazed his cheek, the stubble rough against the back of my hand.
This time he pulled me forward toward him. He put his head on my chest and he cried. I could not believe he hurt so much, until his shoulders shook against me. As he cried I leaned over, whispering words into his ear comforting and forgiving him.
I realized as I consoled Varric I was forgiving myself. We did our best. Mother was happy now, and she was in the arms of her family. Varric's cries stopped, and he tried to pull away. I did not let him leave my arms though. It was late,well past midnight.
I put my hand under his chin and tilted it so I could look into his eyes. I leaned in, my lips hovered over his. He did not move away so I lowered my head to his and our lips met. My lips tingled as he sighed accepting the kiss.
I should have been ashamed. I should have begged for forgiveness. Instead I deepened the kiss, and Maker he responded. My arms encircled him, pulling him closer. It was weird kissing someone shorter than me, but I adjusted when his hand wrapped around my neck, his fingers tugged my hair holding my face near his.
Our lips clung to each other as we found our way to the stairs. I wanted him, relief washed over me as I accepted that. He went up the stairs backwards I noted that he managed to not trip despite his lips leaving mine briefly. His tongue teasing mine, he tasted of bourbon. He bragged that ale was his drink, but alone he sipped bourbon and read.
Together, we made it to my bedroom. He wasn't mine to keep, and my heart belonged to another, but our bodies cried out for more. Not that the moral thinking part of my brain didn't want to interfere. No, it cried out to stop. This fling could ruin everything. Who would I have if, in the morning, Varric realized he had made a horrible mistake?
The thoughts flooded my mind as his hands ran over my body through my nightgown. Our kisses no longer enough, we pulled apart. My body begged for more. His told me what I needed to know, his erection obvious through his pants.
I took off my nightgown as he stripped. Neither one of us talked, something that was rare. We both joked and laughed through everything, normally. When Varric stood naked in front of me, he leaned in and took my breast into his mouth. It sent shivers cascading through my body as he nibbled around the areola and then tugged at the tip with his teeth.
I moaned and found my fingers in his hair. He moved to the other breast. My body cried out to him as he treated it with the same care as the other. He bit his way from one breast to the other and back. I moaned wantonly when Varric kissed a path down my front and knelt between my legs. Feeling unsteady, I held onto the post at the foot of my bed when he pressed his tongue against my clit. My body wanted him, needed him.
I did not care if it was a good idea or not as his tongue flicked against me. His fingers spread my lower lips open and my legs shook. Varric pulled away, I tried not to be disappointed because he stopped, but just moments later when he spoke it made sense. "Jump on the bed, there's no point falling."
I did as instructed and fell back to the bed, my legs made room for him to climb between. His face went right back between my legs. Now, I watched as he spread me apart and lapped at me. He smiled as he sucked on my clit, my hips bucking against him. I tried not to think of my last lover in the bed. Varric knew how to make a body sing.
He pushed a finger into me. I was slick and ready. He added another, pushing them in and out as he alternated between licking and sucking on my clit. I tried to stay silent. With a growl he added a third finger and I snapped.
I called out to the Maker, Mythal, whatever god was listening. As he found the right rhythm my body vibrated until, with a shaking breath, I sobbed finding my release. The pain and sorrow fled as the room darkened in waves and my cries echoed throughout the hallway. Varric chuckled as he kissed my body until the pulsating stopped.
