Sentinel pt. 2
Rating: PG
Summary: Some stories Varric doesn't tell.
Genre: Pathos, drama.
Characters: Varric
A/N: OMG SHE'S BACK!
I wound up (somehow) losing my old saves so almost all my old Hawkes are gone now, sadly. But I started new play throughs recently, and it's been a while since I've written fanfiction to post anyway. So, here we are.
I was going to just scrap 'Untold' and start over totally with these Hawkes and Wardens, but then I re-read it and realized...I can't. Maybe I lost their save files, but Aidyn and Sherwood are still very much alive to me, and I'm thinking of making their characters fresh and playing through as them again, even with other Hawkes now added to the mix. So without further adu...this is me 'not leaving it like that'. Your comment inspired me, in large part, to finish this.
Some stories, he doesn't tell. He holds them instead, like treasures, like jewls. These are the little things, the private things; Hawke's beaming grin and hurting eyes. Fenris's explosive temper and tender looks. Anders's motherly fussing and silly jokes. Isabella's warmth and play. Marrill's happy singing at dawn. Aveline's sweet smiles and shy blushes. Sebastian's surprising humor and warm friendship. Carver's strength and calm.
These are the things he remembers. High and low voices. Laughter. Cooperation despite vast differences. Hands on shoulders and soft kisses and holding hands like children, arms around waists, gripping the back of a neck solidly, squeezing an arm.
Late nights and talking for hours. Drinking, laughing, crying, praying, begging, raging. Card games. Dog drool and cat fur. Saving kittens at midnight and sneaking ham bones after dinner. Ser Pounce Alot Jr. and his Fuzzy Gang of Misfits guarded by The Vicious Rabbit in The Tower of The Spiky Monster. Crackling fires and warm over-stuffed chairs, surrounded by friends. Sputtering flames and filthy tables, dying campfires and cold rain, surrounded by friends.
These are the things he misses.
Lewd jokes and loving eyes. Ferocious arguments and ferocious protectiveness. No one messes with you but me, no one kills him but me, no one kicks her ass but me, no one hurts them but me. I love you, I hate you. Don't go. Don't die. Why?
Please.
These stories, he keeps. So when he wakes up in the Hanged Man, and the first thing he thinks is I should tell Hawke- and then he remembers there is no longer a Hawke to tell anything to, gone on Isabella's ship to what he hopes is safety- so that when that happens, he can still have them close by.
Three years. Three years and counting.
He hopes stories are not all he has left of them. Varric loves telling them, and he loves even more the ones he holds close, but he'd much rather have them.