My apologies are getting old. Just flay me already. Not really. I like my skin where it is.
A huge thanks to my reviewers, and followers for all your support. I may not have enough time to update frequently, but I update because of your wonderful selves. I want to also thank my two latest reviewers, KayKayRoads and FearNotTheNight. You guys are wonderful. Oh who am I kidding? You all are. Let's all make flower crowns for each other!
... or not, that's fine by me too.
Ahem. Enjoy.
"I once knew a dwarf that could down at least quadruple his size in ale," Varric's amusement was emphasized by a raised, inquisitive brow, and his eyes spared a quick glance to the warden sitting across from him.
"Of course, once the intoxication seeped into his thick skull, he'd had the joy to learn that his common sense was not the only thing lost to him. It's a little impressive and yet a little gross how hairy your, er, kind can be." Varric snickered at that.
"It's all about the hair chest, warden. It's all about the chest hair."
"Now that I think about it, Ohgren turned out to be quite the expenditure when it came to his pantaloons. But he was a fine warrior, and once he was conscripted-"
"You conscripted a warrior that couldn't keep his pants on?" Varric asked, tone colored with feigned horror.
"Or his sobriety. Ahem. Don't give me that look, if you think about it, it's not so different from Isabela."
The pirate in question halted her hands from drawing the hidden cards on her thigh.
"Hey!"
"Now, now Warden," Varric placated.
"Thanks, Varric," Isabela muttered, sending a vexed glare the mage's way.
"Isabela is her own species. She doesn't count," Varric finished. The Rivaini's countenance oscillated in the midst of expressions, only to settle in nonchalance.
"I'll take it," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. A chuckle escaped Zane, clearly humored by the pirate's nonexistent innocence.
"Word has it that you'll be returning to Ferelden soon."
"Well, I've been waiting for a response from Hawke, so we're pretty much shackled to the city of chains until then," Zane explained, swirling the contents of his ale mug.
Isabella hummed suggestively "Shackled, huh?"
"Sounds like serious business. Just what response do you need from our fearless leader?"
"Just a confirmation of her seat on our boat, we're hoping she tags along, you see." Varric's sangfroid was a touch decomposed then, eyes slightly widening, nostrils flaring a bit; nonetheless, being an adept rogue and an excellent poker player, he smoothly concealed his surprise in the span of a blink. Did you know of this? His eyes seemed to question the other rogue,but the inquiring glance was mirrored in the pirate's expression, incrementing the load that was the dwarf's worry.
"Although a nice vacation and some pudding would stop Hawke from ripping her hair out, I don't think she'd be willing to risk leaving at times like these," Varric said directing his attention back to Hawke's cousin.
"Nonsense, Varric. Pudding sounds perfectly suitable in these times," Hawke's voice reverberated over the tavern's din, a clamor contributed to by drunks who had either too many problems or not enough. She approached the group's table in a smooth gait. The dwarf was nothing if not perceptive however, and immediately he had noticed how disheveled her normally neatly kept sable hair was. He would have dismissed it as a sign of bad weather were it not for the visible bags under her eyes, protruding under the excessive use of the tear ducts. Her stance was cautious and defensive, arms crossed, chin held up high, and eyes dashed with an icy edge that strayed in purpose. It all reminded him of predator-turned-quarry; a creature wounded by it's own naivety , a bird fooled by the gilded cage, now ever more keenly aware of the open skies through the captivity of bars, persistent wings beating against them, scraping under the coat of deceitful golden paint that revealed aged oxidation. It all rubbed Varric the wrong way.
"I think we said her name too many times," Zane jested as he turned to face her. He soon found his humor to be unappreciated as the group remained in silent awe of the woman they had inadvertently summoned.
"Congratulations Hawke. You upgraded from looking like nugshit to looking like Bronto shit. Considering the significant difference in the size of the excrement, something tells me you need to talk to me," Varric said lightly, though the edge in his voice did not go over Hawke's head.
"How observant of you, Mr. Tethras. If you excuse us, cousin, Isabela," Hawke said with a nod of her head. Varric stood from his chair, motioning Hawke to follow him up to his suite, ignoring the trailing eyes of the other two.
"You really do look like shit, Hawke," Varric commented yet again as he entered what he liked to call his humble abode,gesturing for Hawke to take a seat.
"I thought we had already established that," she stated flatly as she appeased the dwarf's request, taking a seat across from him.
"Yes, and, not to be a sensitive nanny, it has me worried." His eyes, Hawke noticed, communicated a far deeper concern than what his words had confessed, and it made her nearly vulnerable.
"Hawke, people can have their days on which they step into a giant pile of feces, but you are what is holding not only our merry band of crooks-"
"Misfits," she corrected but Varric ignored her.
"crooks, butthis city as well from self-combusting. Hate to break it to you,but if you fall apart, we all fall apart. You were never very self-indulgent. So tell me, where this pompous attitude of entitled pudding-feeding and arbitrary vacations come from and when where you planning on telling us?"
"It is a bit short notice-" She began but Varric cut her off with a loud snort.
"Hawke!" It was clear that the shorter man was exasperated; his waning patience indicated by the incredulity expressed in simply mentioning the woman's name. Hawke had grown accustomed to the role of leader, and having the people under her wing address her as if she was a petulant child, ignorant of the consequences of her decisions, deeply irked her.
"What?!" She nearly barked back.
"Are you trying to say you are seriously considering leaving? Now of all sodding times?"
"A political marriage could be what saves this city from itself, Varric. There is no Viscount, and having the support of a king would be ideal. Think about it-" Varric's eyes were so wide they seemed to struggle to come out of their sockets.
"You're not planning to take your elf, I hope?" Varric was a very perceptive dwarf, but one need not be very perceptive to notice how her brows had immediately scrunched together, her gaze avoiding his, it was the picture of guilt and sorrow. So the elf was clearly involved in this idiocy.
"Then... that makes a lot of sense. So you and your elf have another fallout and you think it's a good idea to marry some fancy king to spite him?" Varric regretted the words after they left his mouth. Fury flashed across Hawke's eyes, and he could have sworn smoke was expelled from her flaring nostrils. Way to tie your silver tongue, Varric, hope you like the taste of your own charred ass.
"You don't know anything!" She retorted, standing up and pacing desperately, just as wounded animals do when they are attacked and they are defenseless. Varric knew the argument could cost him his chest hair, but he did not relent for he also knew that Hawke was simply under another paroxysm of confusion as a result of whatever transpired between her and the elf, and she was only trying to cope. But he also knew that she had to deal with it or move on, not abandon her problems and her friends.
"What, do you want me to blow you kisses, wave my handkerchief at you, and send you on your way?" Varric saw one of her hands lift to her face, holding her temples between her thumb and middle finger. No,no,no don't cry. I've never seen you, and I don't think I want to start now. Shit, shit, shit.
"Hawke, look, I'll talk to the elf, I'm sure you can work this out-"
"Don't you bloody dare!"
"Then what in the Maker's holy ass do you want me to do?"
"Nothing as stupid as what you just suggested," she said, strain audible in her tightening throat. Varric slumped back in his chair, and let out a loud, frustrated sigh.
"Women," he muttered. The chinking of keys drove Varric's attention to Hawke's hands. They were held out towards him.
"What in the void is this?"
"Keys," Hawke remarked casually.
"Your ill-timed humor is why I am the eloquent storyteller and you, well, really bad at telling jokes." Hawke pushed the keys into his chest then.
"They're the keys to my estate. I want you to check in once in a while on Orana, Sandal,and Bodhan."
"You're keeping the estate as a vacation home or something? Or as a bitter reminder of the Champion who abandoned not only her duty, but her trusty dwarf with a golden heart and silver tongue?" Hawke rolled her eyes at him.
"Don't forget the melodrama. It explains why you are so efficient at telling stories. I'm not leaving permanently Varric. I just... need to get away for a little while." A huge wave of relief soothed the heavy weight Varric had been carrying, he knew he could not completely relax yet however.
"Hawke, I understand things are not at their best with you and the elf, but you can't afford to take vacations. The templars might want to take advantage of your absence, things could get ugly."
"I don't think Meredith will try to anger me when there are rumors of a political marriage in place." Varric gave her a funny look.
"Hawke, rumors is my middle name. If there was such a ridiculous rumor, I would have known of it."
"That's why you're going to spread them. The rumors will placate her. She may be the Knight-commander and the templar order may be an army in itself but she won't be able to risk war with another nation by threatening me and and anything even remotely related to me. There are not enough templars for that and besides, the Grand Cleric would not allow it."
"You do understand you're going to kick the elf like a sad puppy when he hears of this, right?" Varric saw an incredible sadness cross her eyes at the mention of Fenris.
"I think this is what he wanted. He won't be much affected."
"I don't know what that daft elf did or told you now, but you both can't be so dense. He is smitten with you Hawke. He's like a lost puppy without you. The looks he shoots your way are almost sad. If he had a tail, he would wag it as a puppy would when seeing its master." They both cringed at the inappropriate comparison.
"Don't."
"I won't. Sorry."
"It's fine," she said quietly as she looked away, the forlorn expression ever-present in her glassy blue eyes, "it's fine..."
A moment of silence passed between them, the thoughts in their minds making up for the words not said.
"For how long are you going to be gone for anyway?" Varric asked.
"A month, maybe two. I'm not sure. The rumors may become true, and if they do, it might postpone my return." Varric's face scrunched like a raisin at that, for he was not too keen on her plan. An idea lit him up like a candle then.
"How about I help hasten your return by keeping tabs on the elf and keeping you informed," Varric offered. The idea appealed to Hawke but the honest part of herself began nagging at her.
"I don't want to spy on him Varric. He made his choice and I'm making mine."
"Hawke, we both know you're full of shit, so just take the offer. I know you are just as pathetic about that elf as he is about you."
"I-" she began but Varric cut her off loudly.
"You're welcome."
"But-"
"Just shut up Hawke. Go pack up. These coming days are going to be interesting. Good timing, a writer's block was just about to set in. The Muse is a fickle bitch."
"Varric, I can't have you publishing these things. It's going to make everything so much worse."
"Don't worry, I'll title it 'L'amour des Ânes Sinistrées'. It's Orlesian for 'love-stricken jackasses.' It'll be about two lovers, an elven woman and a human nobleman, and they will have ridiculous Orlesian names. Pretty clever, huh?"
"This is serious, Varric."
"Fine, fine. But what do you think of Fawke for the girl, and Henris for the guy? They're not Orlesian, but it's a conjugation of your names, and if you think about it, Fawke kind of sounds like; 'fuck' and Henris has 'hen' in it. It's the perfect depiction of your and Fenris's history, since he seems to run like a headless chicken after he-" Varric cleared his throat. Why don't I just stick my foot in my mouth already? Hawke didn't seem angry this time, Varric noted, rather she had the stance and visage of a woman who had raised the white flag. But Varric would not let her wave it.
"Hawke, do you remember when Broody asked you why you didn't let him kill his sister?" Hawke's blank eyes stared at him, her mind clearly elsewhere. The words seemed to register in her mind after a few seconds, and acknowledgment of the occasion the dwarf mentioned made itself present in her eyes. She nodded.
'And you told him-"
"'if you killed her, then it was all for nothing. You heard her. You competed for the markings to free her and your mother. You have been so upset about your years as a slave, because you endured so much for them, even after they were strangers to you. You gave them your freedom, your life, and even yourself, your mind. I can't think of a more noble and selfless thing to do. But if you had killed her, then what you suffered would be in vain. You, most of all, don't deserve that.' Yes, I remember perfectly. Why?"
"Yeah, it was a bit of a tear-jerker. But the point is, I think Broody is doing the same thing again. I told you he was an angsty porcupine. He hasn't lived a normal live Hawke, and I know we're all a bunch of crooks, and none of us are normal, but he hardly understands even basic interaction. I think he still thinks lowly of himself, and only wants you to do better than himself." That gave Hawke pause. I am beyond repair, Hawke. I was a fool to think that I could be normal. The words rang in the caverns of her mind I know you care for me, she'd told him, Yes, I do. Tears swelled in her eyes as her traitorous mind remembered their second break-up.
"I...I..." She stuttered before a sob racked her body, her knees going weak until they collapsed and she was kneeling on the floor. Varric quickly stood from his chair and she sobbed into his neck as he pulled her into a hug.
"Shh. Hey, now. It's okay. It'll be fine, you'll see," he cooed as he petted her hair. After a few minutes, sobs diminished into sniffles, and she pulled away.
"Sorry about that..." she told him softly.
"No, Hawke. I should apologize. I need to watch my mouth more. It'll all work out, you'll see" he repeated.
"Thanks. I think I should go." She stood up and made to leave, but stopped before exiting through the door.
"Bodhan will provide you with funds if any of you need them. Take care of everything around here."
"Will do. I'll tell you what happens with Fenris." She gave him a weak smile before she left. The main room of the Hangman came into view as she descended the stairs, and Hawke noticed that Zane was still sitting at the table, but Isabela was nowhere in sight. Zane smiled as he saw her approach.
"That was a mighty long conversation," he told her.
"Yes, well, I had to make sure Varric knew everything that he should about the estate."
"You mean...?"
"I'm going."
"That's my cousin!We leave in two days, make sure you pack everything that you need for the ship, and say your farewells. Don't worry about things after the boat ride, Alistair will have you covered."
"You're starting to sound like my dad."
"Just looking out for my family," he smiled, his demeanor a little suspicious to her, but she paid it no heed.
"I'm going home, I'm exhausted," she said and headed for the door.
"Sure. We'll have enough time to chat on board." Hawke simply raised a hand, waving her fingers in a farewell once she was walking away, back turned to Zane.
All according to plan, he thought.
