A/N: Part of this chapter was originally a snippet story I posted - the first DA2 thing I wrote hehe. But I felt like it fit in to Anathema's Anchor, so i reworked it a bit... and there it is. Thanks as always for your reviews and for reading :) hope you enjoy!
Hawke slouched into the chair at the Hanged Man. She slid a flagon across the table to Varric, keeping two for herself.
"And here I thought you might have a little sense," the dwarf smirked and draped an arm over the back of his chair.
"Well you know me, Varric," Hawke replied, lifting her glass. "Not an ounce of it."
"It'd be different if you had any tolerance – you'd think you would after all these years."
"Just shut up and drink," she laughed lightly. "Unless you don't think you can keep up?"
"My good lady, I am offended that you would even suggest it," Varric said, before sipping a long draught. "Ahh… so where's Blondie?"
Hawke's faintly cheeks blushed as she lightly laughed, "He'll be here. Has to wait till dark you know, it's just not safe enough."
"Ah yes, he must keep to the shadows lest his garish features be seen by the light of day," Varric's voice lilted. "Traversing the streets no matter the threat to seek the forbidden kiss of a noble."
"Oh please," Hawke laughed again. "What else is there to the story?"
"A great deal I imagine – the dwarf she pines for but can never have." Varric sighed and shrugged, flagon in hand as he leaned close, "Good thing I only tell the real story outside of polite company."
"Always such a silver tongue," Hawke drawled, leaning her head into her hand. Half of one of her flagons was already gone. She drained the rest, before pushing it aside.
Sobering some, Varric scratched the curve of his jaw before saying, "I'm not sure what you're doing with him anyway."
"Well," Hawke said with a sigh as she looked at him, "I could never aspire to the greater of my friends…"
"True, true," Varric sighed, smiling widely.
"… unless you were meaning you don't know how humans fit together or the like?"
Varric laughed and shook his head, sitting up more and raising his hands, "Oh please, milady, do not defile my innocent ears! I cannot hear it!"
"If you're innocent, I'm the Queen of Antiva," Hawke snorted.
On his feet without hesitation, Varric was quick to genuflect, reaching for her hand, "A thousand pardons, your majesty, if I had only known."
"As you should be!" Hawke haughtily replied, pushing Varric back with the toe of her boot. "Fetch me silks and thirteen concubines of the fairest skin! And a flagon of Sun Blond Vint!"
Varric continued his subservience with a flowery flourish of his hand, dipping down, "But of course, messere!" He backed out of the room before turning to sashay down to the tavern proper. Hawke slouched in the chair with a smirk and a sigh, finishing off another flagon. She closed her eyes. It was late enough to be early, but she hadn't quite had her fill. And Anders was supposed to have met them for the rounds - well, met them while they had rounds. Her eyes popped open when she heard the telltale clomp of her dwarven cohort.
"Your royal highness-ess, I may have found a blond vintage more to your liking," Varric said as he came back into the room.
"So I'm likened to liquor now?" Anders said with a smirk, his expression softening as Hawke's eyes turned his way.
"Well I know I could just drink you up," Hawke drawled slowly, scarce avoiding slurring her words. Anders laughed and stepped forward to take her hand, leaning to down kiss her. When her fingers tightened, the flirtatious greeting deepened and Varric cleared his throat.
"As much as I enjoy a show, I can't have you two kids getting distracted. There's the real reason you're both here."
"What? I can't strip him bare?" Hawke pouted slightly.
Anders cleared his throat, "Don't I have a say in this?"
"No," Hawke and Varric replied in unison, prompting them both to laugh.
"Keep your pants on for a moment, Hawke? I know, I know, I ask too much!" Varric 's eyes twinkled as he produced a scroll, "But I may have found Bartrand…"
"Considering how often you drink, you hold your own better than other dwarves I've known," Anders quietly said, sitting in the drawing room of Hawke's manor.
Varric chuckled darkly, looking in his mug, "Who do you mean, that oaf from Amaranthine?"
"In part," Anders smirked.
"Maybe it's just surface dwarves," Hawke replied, waggling her brow. "A better breed all around."
"Could just be me, beautiful," Varric said, holding out his mug as Hawke refilled it. His expression sobered, even as they drank more.
"Where will he go?" Hawke quietly asked.
"There's a sanitarium just outside of the city," Varric replied. "Chantry run, but it's the only one nearby."
"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Anders said.
"You did what you could, Blondie," Varric scoffed, drinking the entire glass. "I still don't know if leaving him alive was a kindness or greater punishment. Shit, I don't know."
"Obviously, you haven't had enough to drink," Hawke said, drawing a laborious breath. "Or I haven't. But it could be both. I can still see the both of you clearly."
"Yeah," Varric blankly replied, holding out his glass for Hawke again. She leant across and filled it to the brim, waiting as he downed it and wordlessly asked for more. Another glassful passed his lips before he accepted another, resting the full glass on the arm of the chair. He exhaled sharply. "When did everything go to shit?"
Hawke was refilling her own glass, slouching in the large chair, "I'm tempted to say the Blight. No blight, no fleeing Ferelden, no empty Deep Roads, no expedition."
"Should I say something about mages? If you'd like to blame them, I mean," Anders said, leaning on the arm of his chair. "Tevinter and the like."
Varric snorted once, shaking his head and laying his head back, "Blighted mages, of course. Broody would be proud."
"Or Sebastian," Hawke drawled. "When - when we went to the Harriman's, good coin I will say, but you wouldn't believe him and Fenris. Talking about turning Anders and Merrill in to the templars."
"Flames, that boy is an idiot," Varric muttered, sipping his glass with greater temperance. "Let's piss off the people I hired to kill an entire company of mercenaries. That'll end well."
"I don't think he will," Hawke slurred. "I could always go to mass to distract him from you, Anders."
"Don't on my account," the mage chuckled.
"But the Maker," Hawke glowered. "I must worry about my soul, the.. His bride, or something like that. I forget."
Anders smirked and tapped his hand on the arm of his chair, obviously more lucid.
"You can be sure he'd have a rather tragic accident if he tries to screw with you, Blondie."
"Indeed," Hawke replied with a low chuckle, sipping more whiskey. She sighed and slouched further. "I'm sorry it didn't go well, Varric. It feels so... unresolved."
"I just find myself glad mother isn't alive again," the dwarf murmured. "It would have broken her heart."
"Yes, because him abandoning you in the Deep Roads wouldn't have," Anders replied.
"I was always her favourite," Varric grinned.
"If you need coin or anything," Hawke murmured, her eyes half closed. "For his treatment or upkeep - you know you just have to ask."
"Shit, Hawke," Varric sighed, looking at her. "My family is still well off, despite Bartrand. I can look after my own."
"Well it's there," Hawke tried unsuccessfully to sit up, nearly spilling her drink. "I look after my own too. Or I try to, anyway."
Varric tapped his thumb on the rim of his glass, nodding slowly, "I know, beautiful. I'll let you know if I need you."
"And whatever would you need frommm me, when you have Bianca?" Hawke pouted, and both men chuckled. "What can she do that I can't, anyway?"
"Don't you wish you knew?" Varric grinned.