This is my first time writing for this fandom and I played the game in French so hopefully I got every name right but I just couldn't hold out my love for this ship anymore haha. So here's just at tiny little thing that has probably been done a hundred times before ;)
A Tilted World
Varric falls in love the moment he sees the Seeker fight.
Kirkwall is a long way from Haven. There were bandits and pirates on the way but between the soldiers, the recruits that seem to fall in line with them and Nightingale's arrows, none of them really had to worry about truly fighting.
They're half a day walk away from the village and Varric is already dreaming of the comfy beds they will find there when the sky burst open in an explosion of green. He's standing next to the Knight-Captain when it happens. He's not sure how he feels about Curly. He and Hawke never saw eye to eye but they weren't enemies. And for better or worse, he's a piece of home. So Varric tries to be friendly. It's something he's good at.
He just promised the former templar a game of chess when the ground shakes under their feet and the sky tears apart. Horses neigh, people scream, panic strikes… Varric cannot turn his eyes away from the top of the mountain, from the temple that is bathed in green and seems to exist no more.
A cry pierces over the surrounding chaos and he does turn away then, drawn to the sound without knowing why. The Seeker stands bereft, dismay and rage battling on her face. Pain too.
Her friends are up there. The Divine she's sworn to protect.
Varric's been left to watch from the sidelines too many times as Hawke tackled something too big for her not to understand the feeling.
So, when Nightingale orders Curly to take the troops to Haven, exchanges a glance with the Lady Seeker and only gets a nod in return, Varric sidesteps the agitated horses and men to stand next to his kidnapper.
"Might not be easy to reach that temple." he comments casually.
"We will manage." she replies tersely, her accent thick enough to cut glass.
He rails in his initial annoyance. Truth be told, Curly is already putting the troops in order and Varric has never seen himself as part of an army. He works better in a small group.
"I'm coming with you." he states. And it's not an offer.
The Seeker opens her mouth, probably to send him to hell, her eyes still on the top of the mountain but it is Nightingale's voice that answers softly "Thank you, Master Tethras".
And that's the end of that.
The Seeker doesn't seem pleased but her eyes linger on the crossbow at his back and she doesn't dispute it further.
They leave the others behind and they run through the woods. The women are faster than he is but he keeps up, too used to run after humans and elfs who forget he doesn't have legs as long as them.
It's not long before they're under attack.
Shades, demons…
The green hole in the sky seems to be spitting them out by the second in every direction. They plummet from the sky and down to the valley.
Bianca falls in his hands, cold and hard in a familiar comforting way, and it feels good after so long without a real fight. He can use the distraction.
The two Hands of the Divine form a fist. They're used to fighting together, that much is plain, and they fall in position without even a glance for each other. The Seeker charges with a battle cry and Nightingale falls back to take care of the enemies that escaped her frontal assault. Varric joins in, soon focusing on solely covering the Seeker when it becomes clear the spy-master can handle her side of the fight by herself.
So, he covers the Seeker's ass and he watches her fight and he falls a little bit in love.
It's the way she moves.
Feral.
Graceful.
A deadly dance.
He's always admired Aveline's skills with a sword and a shield, has long accepted she's a master in her field, however he is very sure that, were they to fight, the Seeker would have the Captain on her back, weaponless and her sword at her throat in ten seconds flat - and without breaking a sweat.
He watches her fight and a hundred sentences swirl around in his brain to find the best way to describe it. He feels the familiar stirring and he knows the first chance he gets to sit down he will be furiously scribbling to try to capture that moment.
She's beautiful. A goddess of war of old. A forgotten hero from long gone stories.
A character who begs to be written down and given tribute to.
He and Bianca are almost of no use to her. He's always a second too late.
Until he's not and his bold gets a shade through the eye just as it was about to jump on her back. She dispatches the two in front of her and, just like that, it's over. The fight is won and she wipes her sword against the leg of her pants before putting it back in its sheath. The move is obviously a reflex. The same way she shoulders back her shield with a brutal shove. He notes everything down in his head. Every little thing. Her stance. The tension in her body when she glances at the breach in the sky once more.
There is something different when she turns to him. A reluctant glint of respect in her gaze.
"Thank you." she nods.
"What's a prisoner not to do for his jailer?" he snorts. "I live to please."
Her eyes narrow and she's back to being irritated.
Same old. Same old.
Too bad he doesn't seem to be able to do the same.
The breach in the sky tilted the world.
The Seeker just tilted his.
If you read and liked, let me know!