This was a treat I wrote for baker_and_fangirl on Ao3 for the Hightown Funk exchange.


The Herald's Rest was filled with more chatter than usual as The Iron Bull and Blackwall find themselves at a table nestled in the corner where the Bull's Chargers would usually inhabit. Everyone was talking in a way that made it clear each person wanted to give off the impression of whispering, but still loud enough for everyone else who may be curious to hear. Which means their topics of discussion were about juicy gossip and not valuable secrets. Blackwall just wanted a drink. Yet his ears were under a constant onslaught as they sit.

"Have you heard?"

"Red Jenny said,"

"Even the Inquisitor didn't know."

The waitress brings their drinks. Her hair was pinned up in a well-kept bun. Perhaps today there wouldn't be a mysterious hair in Iron Bull's drink. She walks off, with two pairs of eyes trailing after her. Before she was even four feet away another waitress grabs her arm and pulls her close. "Listen to this," and the rumors continue.

"What a surprise!"

"I mean, is it really? He was apparently the last one to leave her side."

"Speaking of surprises," Iron Bull gives the tavern a good once over before leaning over the table towards Blackwall. He covers a side of his mouth with his hand, in an all too obvious attempt to minimize the number of ears that would listen in. Undoubtedly, his little act only served to call the attention of any sober person in the bar. "Word is that there's a secret child running around."

"You don't say?" Blackwall gives his mug a shake, hoping to spy something interesting within it. With no such luck, his mug of ale remains the same. This leaves the warden with little choice but to give his attention to the absurd rumor Iron Bull was keen to share. The qunari wasn't even trying to hide his look of glee. He's worst than the old maids in Orlais. Still, it's more entertaining than sitting in silence. "And who's kid is it supposed to be?"

"If it's a kid at all now."

"What do you mean?"

"My sources say that several people overheard a secret correspondence from Hawke during her last visit."

"It's not much of a secret if several people overheard it." The grey warden was willing to leave this rumor business to the rest. Then he realizes what Iron Bull had actually said. "Wait, a secret correspondence? Did your spies see a letter?" If there's physical evidence it may be true. Whatever the rumor is.

"There are some discrepancies between how the information was relayed by her." The qunari answers with a one-sided grin.

"Uh-huh. So the Champion of Kirkwall is protecting someone's kid?" The most surprising thing about that is someone entrusting the champion with their child. She doesn't have a history of protecting people as much as she has of being friends with suspicious people, including a terrorist. The mage may have had a point, but he did cross a line. A line Blackwall well knows himself.

"Even better." Iron Bull's stomach was laying on top of the table now. Despite being practically in his face, Iron Bull still pulls Blackwall closer. Whispering very loudly the warrior has given up his attempt at slowly revealing the secret. "It's Hawke's child."

"Who's the father?"

"Who do you think?" Iron Bull was practically giddy over the news. Which means it's someone important, or they know.

It could have been the elf assassin but why would the news be this exciting to all these people then? If it was the mage who blew up the chantry it would be exciting. That could also be the reason why the child is with Hawke and not their other parent. If it was him there would be several more assassins after Hawke than there have already been. Requesting the Inquisition's help to protect the child would be beneficial, but Hawke has asked for nothing from the inquisitor. Then Iron Bull would not be so happy as he is now.

Staring him down, Blackwall's mind slowly starts to put the pieces together. "No." It's hard to imagine that he would do anything but flirt. "Surely not," but The Iron Bull's smile grows. Damn, so it must be him.

The Iron Bull leans back in his chair, arms cross satisfyingly across his chest. "There was a running bet going, after his novel on the champion had been published. Many a soul assumed Hawke had dated at least one, if not most of her companions. After all, a victor like her, remaining single? Not even a one-night stand is mentioned anywhere throughout the novel, aside from that elf assassin and her companions who joined in."

"But Varric?" Hawke was a champion. His champion in Kirkwall, so the dwarf developing feelings could be probable, but he's so detached. Varric's a flirt, but he does little else. It's hard for Blackwall to imagine.

"It makes sense. The best liars keep what's precious to them close to the chest."

"He's a bit of a talker. Something must have slipped before this." With how much Varric talks there has to have been.

"Think about it. Who else could keep a child with THE champion of Kirkwall, a secret for so long?" Iron Bull states with a grin. He brings his hands back towards his chest, tucking them under his arms.

Considering that, Blackwall could see where their logic is coming from. Varric was very close to Hawke before the inquisition. If she wanted to keep any secret, she would undoubtedly need his help, given he's written a book about her and all that. Then again surely including details such as his romantic involvement with the Champion would have increased book sales. Would he hinder his profit for a friend? Aye, he would, after all he's here instead of working somewhere profitable. If he had a kid, then being in the middle of this all couldn't be helpful. Definitely not for raising a kid. "I think your sources misunderstood."

"I doubt that."

"Then why don't you confront him about it?"

"As if he would be honest. No, if he finds out he's been had then he'll just cover up all of his tracks."

"Well, why not ask Hawke then? The champion just left. She should be returning in a week's time."

"And why did she leave?"

"Wasn't it for a personal reason?"

"And after stating that as her reason for going people first heard tale of a son."

"A son?"

"Whether through letter or word, every source agrees on this; Hawke stated, 'Our son misses you."

Damn. That's hard to argue against. As long as they actually heard or saw word of that. So far it's all still hearsay. "Must say I never saw Varric as the fatherly type."

"Really? He may hate going anywhere that isn't indoors, next to a warm fire, but he cares. He cares too much to make his 'aids' any more useful than they currently are. Most people wouldn't hesitate to discard a spy to gain the upper hand, but Varric teaches all his folks to get out of dodge before their lives are at risk."

"Fair enough." Maybe he hadn't given Varric enough credit. "I suppose there would be few who would care for a child as much as him."

"With the champion for a mother, surely the kid will be strong too. Not to mention a troublemaker. I bet he has his hands full, even when he's not with them."

"That's a sad thought."

"What?"

"He's here, instead of out there, wherever his son is." Blackwall tightens his grip around the mug's handle. "The inquisition isn't just keeping him away from them, but the way he was brought here, it's infuriating."

"It's not like Cassandra could have known he had a kid."

"No she couldn't have, but it's not like he's allowed to leave."

"We can all go."

"I thought The Iron Bull knew better. No, you and I can go. Varric, he's a criminal back home, and without the inquisition's power, he would already have been dragged in by some templars. Hawke too."

"She's kept hidden. He could too."

It's a romantic thought, the two of them running off together to live in hiding and raise their little family. Too romantic to be attainable. "Not after leaving here. If one of them stays they can keep the focus on themselves, and distract their enemies by being an obvious but unattainable target. Whoever stayed would be able to manage their spies openly, and keep in the loop of any potential dangers. If they both go, they'd lose too much. Not just the protection that the inquisition would provide them, but easy access to their network and information that's readily available like it currently is."

With a disappointed groan, Iron Bull throws his head back. He kicks a foot against the edge of the table and leans himself onto the back two legs of his chair. "You have a point there."

The two men sit in silence, mulling over the now far less joyous news. Iron Bull knows that it wasn't just his people who had discovered this news. What had been a jubilant meal, was now soured with concern for the kind writer. Neither of the two could claim to be the closest allies to Varric, but both of them enjoyed his company. He was always good for a story or two when trading words with Blackwall. That had been enough to put him in the warden's good graces. As for Iron Bull, while Varric never partook in the drinking he was more than willing to pay for a few rounds as they played a game or two of wicked grace. He was a liar, they all are, but he was good. Not to mention, while their chances to speak to her had been brief so far Hawke had also left a positive impression on the two.

"Here's to those crazy souls. May they survive long enough to see their son grown."

"Here, here." Blackwall agrees, raising his mug and gingerly knocking it against Iron Bull.

"And who are we drinking to tonight?" The pair raise their heads from their cups and notice a fairly familiar chest of hair standing next to their table. Raising their eyes slightly and see brown eyes appraising them with a suspicious smile.

"Varric!" Iron Bull cheers his name. Meaning he was about to blurt out the truth or bullshit. Blackwall silently sips from his drink. He tries to hide his eyes behind his glass. A futile effort. Varric had his brown eyes fixed on Blackwall. His polite smile felt a little too insincere today. A shiver crawls up the grey warden's spine. "Congrats!"

"Congrats?" Varric closes his eyes and smiles intensely up at The Iron Bull. Blackwall freezes in place. Even with his eyes closed, Blackwall could see the anger on Varric's face. Does he believe he's found the source of the rumors? Iron Bull keeps grinning back down as if he hadn't a care in the world. The human forces his eyes back down into his drink.

"Yes!" Then the qunari bends down closer to Varric. Either he was oblivious or a fool, for Blackwall would never get close to the dwarf while he wears that expression on his face. He gives the rest of the room a long look. Twice as long as Blackwall does, and even he could see that all eyes were on Varric now. Somehow deeming it safe enough, Iron Bull whispers, "On your lovechild."

"Oh, that," Varric responds, his eyes open long enough for Blackwall to see Iron Bull on fire inside of them.

Blackwall slowly spins his cup around. If he pretends not to listen, maybe he could make it out of this alive. "Yes. How old is your son now?"

Instantaneously Varric's bloodthirsty expression vanishes. "My son?" Somehow The Iron Bull had found the magic words. "My son." This time he laughs. Varric wipes a hand across from his face and wanders off. Somehow they had avoided a true disaster. The situation was so awkward that Blackwall's shoulders ache from the tension. It's only after Varric was gone that he realized, it was a real laugh.

Neither of them knew that when Varric went up to his room, he wrote a very short letter. It was to the champion and simply requested for her to bring their 'son' along with on her next visit.

A visit that occurs a week later. Varric spies her first, in the early morning light, as she starts to cross the bridge. She has her standard armor on, the same gear she wore in her fight against Meredith.

Hawke visiting Skyhold was always an event that caused an uproar. After all she's one of the legendary figures that have come out of Ferelden within the last twenty years. Not only that but her merry little band of misfits made names for themselves in Kirkwall. No matter how many important figures travel through the front gates, it's only Hawke that the 'little' people cheer for. Every spy, scout, and foot soldier, all of them love the story of the champion. Someone who rose up from nothing in a corrupt system and defended the people while those on her status did nothing.

Some of them see a story they wanted to believe in. A change in status they also wanted to achieve. Others see a story about a person who stood up for others, and for what is right. All thanks to Varric's book they all see something in the champion, good or bad. So when Hawke arrived at the front gate, a large satchel hanging around her, she was met with a crowd. Varric had been watching the gates from the battlements above. Apparently, that was enough of a hint for people to find themselves waiting near the gate every day he was up there. Which was his bad, of course, the rest of Skyhold would catch on if he made it so obvious he was waiting for someone.

Varric watches in amusement as Hawke struggles to navigate her way through the crowd. She's about halfway through before the satchel around her starts to shake. He runs to Cullen's office, using his stairs to get to the gate. Thankfully Curly was already gone as he darted through.

As he arrives, Hawke has once again been swarmed and pushed back into the middle of the crowd. Varric lets out a high whistle. For a moment the crowd starts to part. However, it's only the outer layer of people who allow him by. The further in he gets the more the clothes look less like the marches, or Orlesians and more as Ferelden wear. They had many a reason to celebrate in recent years. Form the hero warden to the hero of Kirkwall, the proud people cheer for the Ferelden born. They tend to forget that it's Kirkwall Hawke calls home now. It's Kirkwall she'll go back to once they can return together.

When he's near, Varric throws out his hand. His thick, stubby fingers nearly miss. At the last moment, as the crowd starts to shift and push him back, his index finger grips the chain on the end of Hawke's satchel. Hawke notices the weight. Her eyes find him immediately. They shift from concern to eagerness so quickly. As if someone had lit a torch within those deep blues. He mouths for her to follow him. Instead Hawke shoves her way through the crowd and grabs onto him. Before Varric could react she lifts him up into the air.

"I've missed you my trusty sidekick!" Her voice was music to his ears. Varric lets loose his laugh. The crowd starts to disperse to give them room. Hawke brings him back down into a tight hug. To most this will seem like a tender reunion. Hawke saw it the same way she sees everything; as an opportunity. Her callous hands spin him around. Frantically Varric catches the satchel, holding it snug against his chest. "Why are you still here?" She asks as his feet fly past a few of the spectators' faces. Once the crowd had disperse a bit, the pair start to end the show. Varric bites down on his lip as Hawke gradually slows him down. Her ink black hair was still perfect. Sunlight shines off of it. Her hair stays pristinely in place as she spins him. It was as if it feared covering up her beauty. Yet his strawberry blond locks were all to eager to block his view of her face. How much longer before they could return to those days when they would get to stay in bed and just laugh together? His heart races with his thoughts of those times.

A nervous cough interrupts them. With how fast they were going Varric couldn't tell if the cough was behind or in front of him. "Do you need assistance?" Varric's hands are still holding the bag as his feet hit the ground. She grins as she pushes some of his hair back behind his face. Her eyes focused on something behind him. Already the might champion's attention was elsewhere.

Hawke's smile grows as she snaps her fingers and points at him. "The grey warden!"

Already he was beginning to regret his offer. "Uh, yes?"

Varric struggles to hold back a laugh as he talks, "We were just looking for you Blackwall. There's someone we wanted to introduce you to."

"Though it may be best to do it somewhere private." Hawke winks. Twice.

"Uh we could go to the barn."

"No!" The pair shout in unison. They share uneasy looks with each other. The bag shakes violently in their hands. Varric pats it slowly. Whatever was in the bag stopped shaking.

"How about my room above the tavern?"

"Varric I don't think it's smart to have them near alcohol."

Oh Andraste tits please don't let it be their child in that bag. Dwarves were known to be sturdy, and no one could down Hawke's strength, but he was fairly certain even a half-dwarven baby shouldn't be kept in a bag just to be hidden around. The dangers to an infant alone, and surely that's the only age that could fit in such a small bag. Taking a gulp of air, Blackwall cautiously eyes the bag. "Are you concerned about them drinking?" He doesn't want to think about how an infant could accidentally acquire alcohol.

"It's not the drinking that concerns us." It absolutely should be. "Let's just say it's safer for everyone if they aren't around anything flammable." Oh, the boy must have inherited some magic. Could half-dwarves wield magic? Do they dream?

"My room is made of stone. It should be fine."

"Now that that's decided. We should go. I don't know how much longer we can keep him in here."

"WEll if you had put him in a crate instead of the satchel like I recommended,"

"He hates the crate Varric. I'm not putting him in the crate again."

Blackwall stares at the clouds above them. Maybe they had overestimated Varric's parental capabilities.

"Well Dog didn't mind a crate did he?"

"I trained Dog perfectly. He never needed one."

"Just focus on the ground," Blackwall tells himself. Focus on the ground.

That plan traps him in the middle of Hawke and Varric as they walk through Herald's Rest towards Varric's room. Typically Varric strides through the tavern at a leisurely pace. As if nothing in the world could rush him. Today the dwarf was forcing Blackwall to keep up with him. They went straight for the stairs, as several strangers enter the tavern behind them. Varric whistles at the Iron Bull from the second floor. The Ben-Hassrath's leans back in his seat trying to spy the whistle's source. All three of the party members give him a wave as his good eye grows wide. Varric motions for him to follow. Iron Bull accidentally upturns the bench he had been sitting on as he hurries to follow them.

As soon as The Iron Bull joins the rest, Varric gently open the satchel and peered inside. "Just a little bit longer. I promise." He whispers, putting his hand in the bag. Blackwall's eyes dart up, as Iron Bull leans a little closer. Varric quickly shuts the satchel. He ties the string back around the metal button on it's lower end.

Iron Bull leans over and covers his mouth. A sense of deja vu washes over Blackwall. This time The Iron Bull actually whispers. "So it is their son in the satchel, right?"

"At this point I don't want to know." His sense of danger only grows as they finally arrive at Varric's door. They slip into the room. Blackwall was somewhat astonished at how little there is inside of it. There was a desk, and a barrel in the corner. A writing kit sits on the old, worn down desk. A black wooden chair sits mismatched with the desk. They've been here for months, and yet Varric's room looks as if it could be abandoned in a matter of moments.

Hawke wears a huge grin on her face as Varric locks the door. "This can go nowhere else." Varric emphasizes. Iron Bull wears a serious expression on his face. He gives a curt nod. Blackwall imitates him. Hawke and Varric shoot each other a look. Varric sighs and shrugs. "Well we've already come this far." Hawke nods as she opens up the satchel on the bed.

A blue, scaly head slowly pokes out of the bag. Then it's two forepaws rests on the edge of the bag. Dark red eyes scrutinize the entire room. Never has a minute felt so long as he takes in the strange room, and the two new people. Deeming it safe, the dragonling hops out of the satchel. It falls on it's face as it's forepaws sink into Varric's bed. He lets out a tiny, high-pitched screech.

"This is our son!" Hawke cheers scooping the baby dragon up from the bed and into her arms.

"It's a dragon!" Iron Bull cheers, immediately trying to pet the little lizard. The dragon buries his head into Hawke's armpit. That doesn't stop Iron Bull from smiling and petting the small dragon along his back. He lets out a shrill chirp.

"That means he likes you," Hawke explains as she gently rocks the dragonling.

"A dragon?" Blackwall all but shouts, as he takes a few steps back towards the door.

"Yeah not your standard family get up, but we hatched this dragon right before I got nabbed by Cassandra."

"That explains why you were so angry." The Iron Bull says as the dragon pulls his head out of safety and stares at the giant qunari. Except no it doesn't. Varric was angry before he found out what the two of them had been talking about. Blackwall narrows his eyes as he runs a hand through his beard. In fact he only eased up after he heard Iron Bull congratulate him on having a boy.

Blackwall risks a glance at the strawberry blonde. As he looks over he's met with Varric's overly polite smile. A chill crawls down his spine. How long had he been watching? "Why is it so small?" Hopefully, the question throws Varric's focus off of him.

"It's a little more than a year old, Blackwall," Hawke announces as if that's obvious.

With a raised brow, Blackwall looks down to Varric for an explanation. He was still being watched carefully. "Dragons grow slowly. Apparently." Varric explains with a wave of his hand. "Slower than most species."

"Isn't he adorable?" Hawke asks as she rubs the dragonling's head. "His name is Clawthorne."

"He's absolutely the cutest little thing ever. Where did you find him?" Hawke jumps in to explain how his egg was the last survivor from one of the nests she had to clear out of her mines. The two of them go back and forth with Iron Bull asking for the next egg, and Hawke promising that if any more are born in the mines then he could try to hatch one too.

All the while the two go back and forth Varric kept his gaze on Blackwall. The seasoned warrior attempted to ignore the steely gaze. Blackwall did everything from staring straight ahead of him, to even picking the dirt out from under his nails, but no matter what he tried to do Varric's eyes were burning a hole straight through his head. He has fought some of the most dangerous warriors in the world. Has gone toe to toe with mages that could fry him in a moment. None of those fights were as stressful as Varric's knowing gaze. Damn that insincere smile. It's creepier than Sera complimenting him. Cracking Blackwall whispers, "What is it?"

Varric's smile stays plastered onto his face. "We can all agree that nothing goes further than this room right?" His voice echoes off the stone walls. Iron Bull answers quickly with an, of course not, as he offers the dragonling some jerky he had saved for himself. He hadn't sensed the underlying message in Varric's question. Blackwall did. Whatever suspicions he may have had, they needed to remain just that. Suspicions.

"No one will hear of anything from me."

Hawke grins as her 'son' tackles The Iron Bull to the ground. Its jaw snaps around the jerky before he tears it out of his hands. The qunari spy laughs, but Blackwall gulps. That thing was dangerous now. He could only imagine how dangerous it will be as it grows up. It calms under Hawke's touch, letting go of the jerky as soon as she picks him up. If it continues to listen to this well, they could send it after anyone who wrongs them. He for one did not want to be one of those people. Coughing into his hand, Blackwall gains the attention of everyone in the room. The beady, red eyes of the dragonling included. "I believe it's time for us to go."

Before anyone could argue with him, the warrior crosses the room. He helps Iron Bull up with some difficulty. Then as he pushes him out of the room, Varric unlocks the door and opens it to let them pass. The hairs on Blackwall's neck continue to stand after they had left. A sense of danger clings to him until he's back in his barn.

As soon as their two guests had left, Varric made sure to check the battlements. No one was around. Meaning they were as safe to talk as they could be. Varric lets out a sigh of relief. "There's no one outside." Comes the familiar, wispy voice of their resident adopted child.

"Cole?" For the first time all day, a real smile forms on Varric's face.

"Yes, Varric?" He's come a long way. Nowadays the kid didn't even shrink when Varric calls his name.

"Could you do me a favor, and check the roof to see if anyone's up there kid?"

He gives a somber nod before disappearing. Moments later a soft voice whispers, "all clear" in the back of Varric's head.

"Thank you Cole. You thirsty kid?" Varric holds out his water pouch.

The lanky ghost with his wide-brim hat appears, sitting on top of a closed barrel in the corner of the room. "Not really."

"Let me know if you change your mind."

"I won't." He lifts out one of his feet, letting the little dragon jump after it.

A faint smile fills out Cole's face as he leads the dragonling around with his feet. Whenever he was just about to catch one, Cole's limb would disappear, before reappearing behind the baby with a thud. Satisfied with the game, the dragon continues to jump after the disappearing feet. Eventually, Clawthorn starts to jump after Cole's hands as well.

Varric sits on the edge of the bed. Hawke joins them. "Aw, aren't they cute?"

"Not as cute as I bet our little Hawke is with him," Varric whispers.

"Which one? The dragon or the ghost boy you adopted while you've been gone?" Hawke wraps her arms around his shoulders. "But no, it's not even close. No offense Cole."

"I'm not offended." He picks up the dragon and slowly rubs his head. "Sunny meadows grow cold as her strawberry blond hair fades away when the sun goes down. It's cold, but not as cold when she's around." Then as an afterthought, Cole adds, "I'm always cold to him."

"Dragons do need heat while they're young. Once they get older the heat in their stomachs can warm them up when they're trapped in colder climates."

Varric squeezes her hands that are folded over his chest. "You sound like an expert now Hawke."

"I've learned a lot, about dragons and kids." She pulls him back. They fall onto the bed together, cuddling as her feet dangle off just a smidge.

"I'm sure you already knew plenty of the latter." He insists pressing his head into her arm.

"Inda is different from the twins. Bethany was always slow to warm up to strangers, but quick to run around outside by the house. They were her adventures. Carver was always ending up in fights with everyone, but Bethany. She picked fights with him, and he would just let it go like he didn't have the energy to argue with her. Inda has the energy and will to argue with everyone, about everything." Her arms were shaking from the stress. Even the grey ceiling seems to grow darker from exhaustion as she talks about the energy of their toddler.

"She's only two Hawke." To an outsider, they may hear derision in those words. Not Hawke though. She knows that he means to give her hope. Some hope that she'll get used to her daughter. Hope that she won't have to continue only telling her stories or her distant father. A growing hope that she would be a better parent than her mother. That's what he's always done. Even in that bloodstained, shit spelling, fucked up city, Varric gave her support and a chance. Two things she never would have survived in the deteriorating streets of Kirkwall without.

Hawke pushes a strand of hair from his face. Her warm fingertips linger on his cheek. "And her vocabulary consists mostly of curses." Most days he can forget the cold. Then Hawke returns and he grows certain that he could never live without her warmth again.

Varric pulls her hand down, so he could kiss her palm. He mumbles against it, "Whose fault is that?"

"Her mother's and aunt's." She answers with a kiss on his forehead.

That's one of the most blatant lies he's ever heard, and he played Wicked Grace with Rivaini. "Aveline has better sense than to curse around a child."

"But she doesn't have enough to keep me from doing so." Ah, so that's the catch.

"You mask your concern behind humor. Deep down you wonder if you can do this if you can be there for her the way your mother hadn't been for you. The twins, they needed so much to fly." Cole's voice drifts off as his head turns towards Hawke. "But you flew so naturally on your own. That's why even amongst your family, you were the Hawke."

Pain etches itself onto every feature of her face. Strong eyes become soft and downturned, as even her ever-lasting smile, falters. When she realizes all eyes in the room are on her, she runs. Hawke buries her face deeper into his hair. "Varric you know I love you,"

"He can't help it Hawke."

"I just wish it was a little less intrusive." Her hold on him tightens. Her long, nimble fingers shake. He could feel the ends of them grow warmer. A sign that she was holding back the urge to use her magic and run. "He won't do that in front of other people right?"

"I won't tell them about your daughter." He pauses in his petting of Clawthorne. "Can I meet her?"

"We'll arrange it." The pair announce together.

Hawke pushes her nose against Varric's scalp. She takes a deep breath, an action that betrays her concern. He knows what's coming before she speaks. "Do you think we'll actually be able to keep her hidden?"

"We have so far."

"Yes, but one of us was always with her."

"Aveline is still with her, and your sibling. She's fine." Varric leans his head against Hawke's shoulder. "I hope we get to have more moments like this, with all three of them."

A single short hah leaves Hawke's mouth. Her chest reverberates with her silent laughter. It's too adorable to deny. "They are cute."

"And they'd be even cuter when they all get to see each other." Varric presses his nose against Hawke's neck. She smells like sweat and pine trees. A hint of smoke clings to

"We're the old ones now." That earns him another snort.

"I refuse to be considered old until my hair is gray."

He runs a hand through her hair. Blue eyes meet brown, and Varric swears he can see the sea of home within her eyes. "News flash Hawke, my hair is already getting there. I'm sure yours isn't that far behind." From the blush on her face, his sarcasm hit home.

"You've still got five years on me Varric."

"It's only five years." She wraps an arm around his shoulders, shifting his head from against her shoulder onto her chest. Varric melts into her hold, letting his eyes close for a moment. "And soon we'll be far away from here, together again."

"Do you really think so?" It wasn't often that Hawke would sound doubtful. Hawke was so quick to deflect worry with a quit word here, a joke there. She must be feeling on edge. Varric could imagine the concerns circling in her head. The rumors flying around were of their dragon, but how much longer until their daughter is revealed?

"I know so."

"I'm not so sure Varric. After all, it's not often heroes get to have happy endings." How dare she use his own words against him. He'll just have to use some of hers.

"We're not heroes Hawke, we're just two people getting by until we can

go home." She holds him tighter.

"I'm not sure if we've been that since you wrote that story Varric. And I'm not sure if we can while the inquisition is around."

"This won't go on forever. Soon Corypheus will be done with, and we can go home to Inda. No more secret messages through the network. No more having to communicate through letters. I can finally see her smile again."

"She could finally drag you outside all throughout her favorite field."

"My feet already ache. Why did she have to get your love of the outdoors?"

"You'll never complain as soon as you see her smiling out there. Huckster and her playing tag among the weeds alongside the old lake."

"I can't wait."

"We're not heroes Hawke, we're just two people getting by until we can go home." He pulls himself closer to her. He lifts one leg and wraps it around her, making sure she can't roll away. "We'll make it home. Then it will be you, me, Inda, Clawthorne, and Cole that can even come to visit."

"Am I allowed to?" He asks, sounding eager.

"You're always allowed to." The pair say in unison. A loud chirping noise from the floor agrees. Varric looks up to see Cole lower his hat. His blush is evident as Clawthorne chirps at him. Yeah, they'll all make it home. No matter what, he would make sure that the inquisition doesn't take too much from Hawke. This time he'll be the one keeping her safe so Inda can see both of her parents again.


I hope you all enjoyed! I really liked this prompt so I wrote a treat for it. Once I was done I ended up thinking of a bunch of scenarios with Varric and Hawke and their kids. So I might end up doing more with Hawke and Varric raising a dragon and a kid together.

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