Title: Forgive Me

Pairings: Varric/Malika Cadash (kind of)

Rating: Teen

Summary: They remember, and everything is awkward

Timeline: Inquisition – after 'Forget Me Not'

Warnings: This is the other part of the Prompt where Cole does not help Malika (thus, she remembers)

'Forgive Me'

Varric paced nervously in front of the fire, occasionally looking up the stairs to where the throne loomed. He looked at the door next to the throne, waiting for it to open and to reveal the Inquisitor.

With each minute that ticked by, he felt himself getting more nervously. His palms were clammy; he rubbed them against his breeches. His mouth felt dry and he would look at the tumbler with whisky before shaking his head, denying the drink.

The drink was part of the reason why their situation was as awkward as it was.

Varric sighed, rubbing his chin. He came to a stop in front of the fire, looking at it.

They had tried their hardest to keep a lid on their night, to try to forget it but it was difficult.

Malika soon stopped asking him to come with her on missions, taking Cole instead. She then put a stop to that. Apparently, Cole had come too close a few times to saying what was on her mind.

Iron Bull was the first one to know what happened. Varric had seen the Qunari's eye look between the two of them then pin Varric with understanding.

Even now, Varric was not sure what had given them away, but he must have looked guilty and Malika had looked away, embarrassment crossing her face.

Varric had tried to talk to Malika since that night with no success. She avoided him as much as she could and it made things tense between them, and in time – their group as a whole.

Cassandra was always looking between them with concern and suspicion. Varric could see it in the Seeker's face that she wanted to demand answers but she held her tongue, probably out of respect for Malika, since the two warriors had formed a bond.

Solas merely stayed quiet, casting concerned glances whenever he thought they were not looking.

Varric wished he knew how to fix the chasm between him and Malika. He had not realised just how much he had come to care for the other dwarf until she was no longer a steady presence in his life.

He missed the flirting and teasing they exchanged, the sight of her smile and the sound of her joyful laugher.

He missed having her back on the field. He hated the thought of her out there without him to give her backup. He missed seeing her fight, dominating the battlefield as she charged in with her sword and shield.

The way her armour glittered in the sunlight, a knight in shining armour – he once called her, getting laugher. The fierce determination lining her face and her sad yet satisfied expression when they slayed their enemies.

She once told him that she hated to take a life, but out there, she had no chance to talk them down.

He missed the way she would struggle with locked doors; he would remind her, in a teasing voice, that she had someone who was a master of picking locks at her side.

The way she would stand off to the side, giving him an amused smile as she gestured to him to show off. The shake of her head and the smile curling her lips once the doors swung open under his masterful touch.

He missed the way she would tease him about having to come to his rescue – that she never thought that he could be considered as a damsel in distress, leaving him fluttering his eyelashes and near swooning, which had her doubled over with laugher, clinging to his arm for support.

The way Cassandra would give a disgusted snort, looking away but failing to hide the smile of amusement that made her look soft in that moment. The way Solas would chuckle into his hand in the background.

He missed the late night talks they would share in front of his fireplace, just talking about everything and nothing. She had always found it difficult to sleep after she awoke from her coma and the destruction of Haven had only made it worse.

He told tell her stories of his brother, of Kirkwall and of the Champion who had become his best friend in the years they spent together.

She would tell him stories of her parents, of her smuggling days, and how much she missed being at home. Ironically enough, she had wished to leave that life behind when she was younger. Now – she wanted nothing more than to get rid of the mark and to feel her parents' embrace once more.

Varric missed having Malika in his life and he hoped that he would be able to fix his mistakes, to make amends and to see her smile once more.

He once believed that hope was a futile thing but right now, it was all he had.

The sound of throat clearing caused him to turn and see Malika standing next to him with a pensive expression. She was dressed in simple brown breeches and black cotton shirt with a cloak.

Her dark brown hair twisted in a plait, resting over her right shoulder, giving the impression she was younger than she looked.

"Malika," he greeted, his nervousness coming back full force.

"Varric." She gave him a short nod and he exhaled heavily rubbing the back of his neck.

"Can I get you a drink?" He asked then wished he could smack himself, "Of water or tea?" Her face wrinkled with distaste and belatedly, he remembered that she hated tea. "Of course, not tea, I mean, you hate the stuff-"

"Varric," she cut in and relief shot through him, clearing his throat. "Can we talk?" He nodded.

"Er…where do you want to go?" He asked. He knew she would not suggest her room – too many memories. He also knew that she would not want to talk here, too many ears surrounding them and there was Vivienne above them.

"How about the battlements?" she asked, shifting on her feet. "Where you brought me to meet Hawke?"

A fitting place, he thought.

"Okay." He nodded. They left the fireplace, walking out of the castle in silence. Varric was keenly aware of everyone's eyes on them and he wondered just how much everyone knew.

Iron Bull had kept silent on the situation – he had not even once tried to speak to Varric about it, something Varric was intensely grateful for; yet at the same time, it made him apprehensive. He never knew what the Qunari was thinking.

The sound of hacking brought him out of his thoughts to see Cassandra in front of the dummy she was always training with. She saw them out the corner of her eye and turned her head, giving them a curious glance then gave them a short nod, returning to what she was doing.

Malika led the way to the stairs and he followed her up. The curve of her buttocks made him remember their night and he closed his eyes for a moment, willing away the memories.

It always surprised him at how strong they could be, wondering what it was that made them so potent. Maybe it was because he had slept with someone other than Bianca or maybe it could be down to the fact that it had been so long.

They reached the battlement, Malika walking over near the edge and he joined her, his throat suddenly parched.

Now he wished he had brought some courage with him. He never knew he could be so damn nervous. He never felt his nervous when he helped Hawke or Malika face down dragons.

Varric looked at Malika in time to see her taking a deep breath then she turned to face him. He knew if he let her speak, he was going to lose his courage.

"I screwed up," Varric admitted. Her eyes widened, her lips parting. "I called you by the wrong name and I can't take that back." She swallowed, nodding as she looked off to the side. "But I want you to know that I never thought I was with Bianca."

That caught her attention, her eyes snapping back to meet his and he swallowed nervously at the shock in her eyes.

"I knew who I was with…I just…reflex," he muttered lamely. Her brows furrowed in confusion before her expression cleared, understanding dawning on her.

"You haven't…"

"Not since Bianca," he admitted. She gave him a teary nod, her head dropping so she could look at her boots, scuffing the toe against the stone.

"I-I don't…" she rubbed her arms, "I don't think that makes it any better."

"It was not an excuse," he told her, wishing he could touch her but he knew she would back off if he was to try. "It's just an explanation." She scoffed and he winced. "A shitty explanation," he admitted before shrugging helplessly. "But it's all I have."

She slowly nodded before she sighed.

"I am not going to lie," she looked at him, "It hurts." He closed his eyes. "You came to me, but I was the one left feeling like I was used as a replacement– which is stupid because Bianca and I are nothing alike."

Varric conceded to her point. They were nothing alike. Bianca had light brown eyes, light brown hair, and pale skin. Malika had blue eyes; dark brown hair and dark skin that made his fingers itch to touch.

He curled his fingers inward once more, resisting the urge to touch her.

"I don't even know what to do, Varric," she told him, her tone so desperate that he looked at once more. "I had the chance to let Cole remove my memories but I chose not to because I did not think that was fair. Yet, we have this between us and I cannot see a way for us to move forward, to move on from that night."

She turned to look over the battlements once more, pushing back the stray lock of hair that escaped her plait before she sighed sadly, her lips curling downward.

"We never had a chance, did we?" She asked and he closed his eyes, in defeat. He hated that she had to ask that question and he hated that he could not give her the answer she wanted to hear.

"No," he slowly admitted, meeting her gaze to see the clear heartbreak. "I wish there was but-"

"You can't let her go," Malika finished.

It stung, more than it should have, but it was the truth. He could not let Bianca go; she was tightly intertwined deep within him.

Malika sighed, drawing his attention to her once more.

He had a willing woman before him, who wanted him. She was beautiful and every time he saw her, the memory of their night haunted him.

He had never been that rough with Bianca. However, Malika, she had begged for it, wanting whatever he could give her, and she returned it wholeheartedly.

He had never had a woman who wanted him as bad as Malika had that night. He never felt he had been worthy enough for that kind of attention.

Not even Bianca had pushed him like that, never gave more than she could. They played it safe – not that they had a choice considering the Carta did have a price on their heads.

It had been a change of pace, being able to mark someone, to be rough with them, to take risks without fear of consequence.

Malika had borne his marks for a good while after their night together. He had borne her marks too; her nail marks down his back and over his buttock. The bite mark on his chest and the love marks on his neck.

Even her scent was enough to trigger his memories and he wondered if she was reminded of their night together whenever he did something, like he remembered just by seeing her hands.

He sighed, turning to look out at the scene, his hands going to the stone and he wished with everything that he could fix this, that he could stop loving Bianca long enough to give Malika a chance.

Nevertheless, she deserved someone who could be with her, deserved someone who could give her their whole heart and to be with someone without fear they would leave her for someone else should it ever happen.

Moreover, he was not that person, no matter how much he wished he could, no matter how willing she was.

Malika stood next to him and he watched her out of the corner of his eye, wishing he knew what to say that would help her but there was nothing and he wondered if he was going to lose her friendship after this.

One mistake, it took one mistake to screw something he cherished. He guessed he was doomed to keep looking back at his past, to write about them and to linger on the 'what-ifs'.

"I miss you." Her voice was low that he almost missed it. He turned his head to see she was staring out the sparring ring. "I miss spending time with you; I miss your teasing and your jests. I miss the way you have my back out in the field."

It made his heart swell to know he was not the only one missing their friendship but at the same time, it broke it. Could they go back to how they used to be? To forget that one night they shared and the knowledge they could not be together?

"Despite everything," He started and she turned to face him. He gave her a small smile, "I do not regret our night together. I just regret how it ended." She stared at him, wordless for a moment before she gave him a slow nod, a small smile crossing her lips.

"I-thank you," she whispered and he gave her a nod in return. She turned fully to him making him curious as he turned to her. "Maybe we should start anew?"

Varric frowned, unsure of where she was going with this when she held out her hand.

"Hi, I am Malika Cadash," she said, and understanding dawned on him, a corner of his lips quirking up in a smile, "It is an honour to meet such an esteem writer as yourself."

He chuckled, taking her hand and shaking it slowly.

"And I am pleased to meet your acquaintance. I am Varric Tethras."

Maybe they had a new chance at their friendship and he swore that he would do better by her this time.

It was what she deserved.

The End

Part B finished. I left things on somewhat better terms than the last one

To be honest – I am not so sure about this one

Thanks to Pervinca for betaing!