Cassandra wiped the edge of her eye, she was absolutely not getting teared up thinking about Varric's seemingly unrequited love affair with Hawke. It was just that she understood the pain that it might cause him and in turn it hurt her to read it.

She knew that in many ways she was hard on him, and perhaps not hard enough in others. Regardless of what she thought of him, she felt privileged that he was allowing her to learn these things about him, and it was changing her opinion in small increments. It was getting darker outside and she knew that sooner rather than later she would have to retire for the night. Before returning to her bedroll, the Seeker decided to pay Varric a visit in person rather than just reading about him in his works.

The dwarf was clearly somewhat surprised to see her.

"You can't have finished all that already…?" he raised an eyebrow, looking at the papers in her hands.

"No, I have not." she responded, looking sheepish.

"Ah, well no discussions until everyone in the club finishes the book."

Varric smirked at her and she cursed him under her breath.

"I meant only to see if you were coping," she paused, narrowing her eyes. "It has been some time since the Inquisitor left."

Shrugging he placed a tome on top of an ever growing pile.

"You know me, Seeker."

"It occurs to me that perhaps I do not, know you, Varric."

There was a feeling of mutual understanding, with a layer of respect that the two of them had not felt for each other before. With that she inclined her head slightly as was polite and turned to leave. The next morning would bring more chances for indulging in her 'stories' but for now bed was her priority.

"Hang on a sec."

Rolling her eyes Cassandra turned around to face Varric again, who gestured to the stone table in front of them.

"Well?" she asked, irritable from lack of sleep.

"There are some stories I never wrote down, haven't told one in a while." It was Varric's turn to look sheepish now. "Maybe you want to hear one?"

Thinking on it for a minute or two, she decided it was in her best interest to listen in - she knew an olive branch when she was being offered one. Cracking into a smile Varric went on for a couple of minutes about what kind of story to tell, what portion of his and Hawke's shared lives would be most interesting to her. In the end Cassandra had suggested a time when he felt especially close to Hawke emotionally.

"Oh yeah? Okay, I think I got one." He mused, rubbing his chin for effect. By now he assumed Cassandra had gotten the gist of what his feelings were towards the Champion so there weren't many topics that were off limits.

"Let's see, well there was the time that I came back to the Hanged Man to find Hawke slumped in the armchair covered in what I can only describe as filth, and it was my job to clean her up."

The water made a somewhat pleasant dripping sound where it ran down the inside of the makeshift bathtub to meet the rest of the water. Hawke had been undressed down to her small-clothes long before and I helped her to lower herself in. She hissed where the water touched her skin, bruises were beginning to blossom all over. We'd already slept together, but since neither of us could remember it this felt like the most intimate thing I had ever done with her. In some respects - especially on an emotional level - it was. Wherever I washed the dirt and blood away I got to reveal another expanse of her skin. It was the colour of a porcelain doll, but marked with scars and bruising. Each blemish told a story and reminded me of the times we'd shared together. The marks were far from ugly. If anything they made her more beautiful than she would have been without them. They showed a woman who had suffered and who had lived her life, who had things to share with others and things to keep to herself.

She would shiver every now and again depending on where the cloth touched her and I realised that I was subconsciously remembering all of those places as if I would need them in the future. Maybe I was just enjoying learning more about Hawke's body. It felt perverse that then of all times, when she had come to me for help, was the time that I was finally beginning to let go and give in.

It was stupid to keep pretending that we were only friends. Maybe Hawke wanted it to be that way, but I couldn't sit on that. I didn't know what we were, but we weren't friends any more. At least our friendship was only one fraction of our relationship as it was.

I brushed my fingertips under the edge of her jaw, checking over a cut that I'd seen earlier. She breathed in sharply, which didn't go unnoticed. It was the last straw, I shook my head, what was I to do with her. The urge to kiss her had been overwhelming, but I felt it wasn't the right time. I opted to kiss her on the forehead, but she grabbed my arm as I moved away from her. She was staring at me intensely. Her face was clear of all its usual makeup, making her look pale and even more fragile than usual - yet somehow more lovely than I'd known her to be.

Maybe it was the vulnerability of it all.

"Varric," she frowned, a pained expression I didn't like seeing. "I can't."

I nodded, tentatively kissing her on the forehead again before stroking her hair a little to soothe her.

"I know, I'm just trying to be a good friend."

She smiled for the first time in a long time, even if it was half-hearted.

"You're always a good friend."

There was a pause.

"Fenris is going to be looking for you." I offered, the taste of Hawke's current beaux's name on my tongue leaving a foul taste in my mouth.

"I can't see him yet." She replied simply. "Let me stay a while."

"As long as you need."

In the coming hours she opened up little by little about what had happened to her. For once I didn't find myself pushing her for information, there was an understanding at least on my part that her pain was more than physical, and that was something Hawke only talked about on her own time. She'd gone to visit Fenris again after he left her that night at the Hawke estate. They'd argued about something, but she never specified what. In the end she'd left and decided to get blind drunk wandering around Kirkwall. It's easy to find yourself in an unsavoury area when you're impaired. A group of mercenaries had attacked her and she was alone, she said she was lucky to make it out with her life but Hawke never went down easy. I think she kind of let them have it out with her to blow off some of her own steam.

I thought back on what I said earlier - he had damn well better be looking for her. Letting Hawke wander off all by herself. Sure she was good in a fight, but no matter how great you are with a staff there's a limit to the number of people you can fight off at once. Especially when you're the kind of person to avoid all collateral damage.

"She slept in the bed that night and I passed out in my chair while keeping an eye on her breathing. Few cracked ribs can cause some issues, even for a mage. They're still human."

Cassandra nodded, transfixed. She enjoyed the way Varric wrote his stories but she thought that now she enjoyed the way he told them in person even more.

"So, the Champion," she began, a little shy to ask too many questions. "Did she reconcile with her lover?"

Varric smiled at her, a little smug that she'd gotten so into it.

"That, Seeker, is something you will find out later on. Gotta admit, wasn't sure you'd be into this all that much."

"Why not? You are already aware that I read your romance series."

"I guess you just put Hawke on such a high pedestal I figured a 'romance' about her wouldn't sit right with you."

"The Champion is many things, who would I be to assume she was not a lover as well as a fighter?"

Varric laughed genuinely, standing up from the table.

"That was surprisingly realistic and poetic at the same time. Goodnight, Seeker."

"Goodnight, Varric."