A Tale of Varynia Hawke

by Llereurol

This is the story of Varynia Hawke, a young mage thrust into greatness. A tale of suffering and sacrifice. A tale that will be told for ages to come. "There's power in stories, though. That's all history is: the best tales. The ones that last. Might as well be mine." (Rated "T" for some language and a bit of suggestiveness, but nothing too bad.)

Author's Note: This is one of my earlier beginnings. Obviously between FemHawke and Fenris. This would be right after Leandra died and it doesn't completely follow the exact storyline. There will be more, I promise. If you have any suggestions I would love to hear them. I am trying to get better at writing, so anything helps.

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Fenris walked up the stairs to Varynia's room. He had been in there only once before, right before he had left her. Fenris lowered his head, shame washing over him. If

he hadn't have left she wouldn't be in this much pain. She wouldn't be alone. He didn't think he would ever come back to this room, let alone in this house… Fenris passed

by the large windows on the landing. An eerie light passed through them turning Varynia's normally warm home, cold. She couldn't stay here. Not all alone. She would go

mad. He pushed open her door. She was sitting there, her head in her hands, on the edge of her bed. Her long black hair falling around her face, blocking it off from the

rest of the world. She looked up at the sound of his entrance. He did not smile, he did not speak; he just stood there. She stood up and walked toward him,

"Fenris…" Her eyes filled with tears. She fell onto him and rested her head on his shoulder. He placed his arms around her protectively.

"It's okay," Fenris squeezed her tight and laid his head on hers, "I'm not leaving…" Varynia began to sob and Fenris continued to hold her. He wouldn't leave her. Not

again.