Author's Note: This story follows the friendship and eventual romance of Kerrigan Hawke and Varric Tethras. I own nothing, and all credit for everything except Kerrigan goes to the Bioware team. Thanks for reading!

Varric knew everyone in Kirkwall worth knowing, and that was no idle boast. Information was his currency, and so he had kept himself apprised of every new cutpurse, merc, and apostate in the city, and there were a lot. With the Blight axed and rotting in the Fereldan fields the boats had stopped coming, but not many were heading back to their land of dogs and mud. Varric loved opportunists, they were the easiest to work over, and quickly replaced, but this wouldn't do for his current need. Varric Tethras also loved to let Bartrand pretend that he was in charge, but the numbers didn't add up and Varric did not accrue debt lightly. Debt was more years with the guild, and he had seen enough of the guild for a lifetime.

He needed some one who could get the coin to make sure that they did not start this venture in the red, and attempt to find himself a decent fighting arm. Bartrand was sure that the Blight had thinned the number of darkspawn in the caves, but twenty thousand darkspawn instead of a hundred thousand was far more than he cared to meet. The swords-for-hire Bartrand had insisted upon were cheap, and were going to be no match for a set of coterie thieves. Paragons knew what would be waiting for them in the rank corners of the deep roads, and even if he was forced to walk out empty handed, he would be walking out. Varric high valued his life, much more than anyone else in this city, and if he wasn't born in a Thaig he sure as nug-shit wasn't dying in one.

Luckily he was a master of orchestration, and of spreading choice information. He had spread so much misinformation about this move at the deep roads it had become a legend, scoffed at in public as a bar-tale. That scoff had kept away the coterie, the guild, and the carta. He also knew how to get the right information to the right ear, the trick was knowing who and how. He had heard the name Hawke more than once in the last year, she had quickly become known for being effective, efficient and deadly, which was precisely what he required. Once he had set his sights on the elusive Serrah Hawke, it took him two weeks to have everything in place to approach her from a position of bargaining power. It was no accident that she heard the correct information about the expedition, and was given where to find Bartrand and when. He had paid good money to ensure it had gotten to her, and it was also no bit of serendipity he and Bianca were present at the scene. Pitch, the would be thief, was an easy sort and the promise of coterie favor was enough to drive him into Hightown, the twenty silver he paid in advance didn't hurt. This was a play, and Pitch was the star, for now, and Varric knew just what to say upon his exit. Pitch was told to grab the purse of the person walking away from Bartrand, no one else, he'd stop him and swoop in to save the day and Pitch would exit the stage. Twenty silver for Pitch, and an excellent introduction to one of the best sell-swords in the city for Varric.

It was unfortunate that Pitch did not have the finesse to pull it off, and his bump was predictable. Varric had intended to allow Pitch to run, and then swoop in when he got away, but Serrah Hawke was no fool and quickly gave chase. It would not do to have his star killed in the first act, and so he swooped in with Bianca. Luckily, he had planned for this, a bolt to pin the shirt, a quick few steps, even the pulled punch on Pitch before the boy ran.

The coin purse was heavy, he had guessed well, she didn't have what they needed but they could get it. He felt the weight as he turned and laid his eyes on the mysterious Hawke for himself as he twirled his retrieved bolt for emphasis, his swagger overstated for the benefit of present company. What he saw waiting would have stunned a lesser man. Varric had worked many an unscrupulous character to a downright bastard in his time within Kirkwall's hospitality, but sellswords were not usually beautiful, or in the company of an equally beautiful specimen. Serrah Hawke was a bit short for a human he realized, the dark haired beauty beside her slightly taller, they shared obvious signs of familial nature, similar lips and eyes, but that was where the comparisons stopped. The young woman, who he knew from a few well paid sources was called Bethany, had a nervous but sweet nature. She eyed Varric like a deer might, prepared to pounce if he moved wrong, and he gave her an unassuming smile to reassure her. Serrah Hawke herself on the other hand looked completely calm and in control, a playful smile on her lips and a raised eyebrow. Her skin was paler than her sister's, but it was her hair that set them apart, hair the color of fire. Deep red gave way to bright oranges in the sunlight, and only made her eyes all the more distinct, and it perfectly matched the dark hair and bright eyes of her sister. He was amazed no one had mentioned their stunning beauty, they looked as if they belonged in Hightown with the rest of the well-groomed daughters.

"Forgive Bartrand, he wouldn't know a good deal if it punched him in the jaw." He heard himself saying, returning her purse with an easy toss which she caught with the same laid-back air. He continued to speak, but his eye was memorizing the two women in front of him with a finesse that came with his love of stories. Hawke herself was not what he expected, he had thought to find a sell sword of usual stock, half-decent armor, and a bad attitude, instead he found a wit. He introduced himself, and she smirked returning with a easy one-liner and Varric was impressed, and he was not an easy man to impress. Her bow was custom, though nothing like dear Bianca, her armor top rate and comfortable, her sister was equally well dressed, though much more casually so as to not draw attention. She wore beautiful gold jewelry though, and he was sure that was no accident.

Hawke was also more clever than he thought, she led the conversation even though he started it, and her sister was a well kept secret even he didn't know about. He knew the Red Iron had hired two for a year of nicely-termed slavery, but her status as an apostate was hidden. In fact, no one seemed to notice the girl with the staff walking about, which was a pity because she was beautiful and deserving of being noticed. Still he could see why she was being ignored, every man who gazed at her met the fierce blues of her sister and quickly busied his gaze elsewhere. Varric was not sure his plan would work out, a first in his experience as a master planner. He spelled out what need be done but Hawke was stone, smirking with arms crossed as she leveled bright blue-green eyes at him, she wasn't buying it. He was suddenly sure she was going to walk when Bethany was the one who spoke reason. As they talked quietly he was allowed to take them in for more than their beauty but for their personalities. Bethany was sweet, and had edges of a gentleness that were nicely hidden on her sister but present. The sarcastic and wit was dropped as she sought to reassure her nervous looking younger sibling. They spoke quiet enough he only caught a few off words, but their emotions were splayed easily as Bethany gestured and Hawke pushed back red hair before pinching her brow. Finally she turned, dropped the smirk and she reached out her hand.

"Well met, Serrah Tethras. Let's hope you're worth half of the posturing, or you may have to watch your brother lose his beard." She smirked again, and a deep warm laugh left Varric's chest. Oh yes, he liked her, and nodded his appreciation before walking toward the Hightown square.

"Yes, well my brother said I could conjure gold with a word, let's hope he was right." With a smirk thrown over his shoulder to Hawke, and she responded with what he was sure was a real smile before following him to toward the square. "And if you have no work lined up, Serrah Hawke, I suggest we stop by the Hanged Man for a pint, I have a few prospects of my own it might be worth following."

"Please, call me Kerrigan." She said as she moved to his side, Bethany tailing behind and to the right of her as they began to take the steps into the market, "And I'll only accept a pint if you're buying."

"You're a shrewd woman Hawke," Varric responded, a grin on his face as they walked, "But I am in a generous mood. To the Hanged Man, and we shall see how quickly we can convince this town to shower us with their coin."