t w o
Here, I decree
Opposition in all things:
For earth, sky
For winter, summer
For darkness, Light.
Threnodies 5:5
Hawke had disappeared for a few days after her initial introduction to Skyhold. She claimed it was best that everyone get used to the idea of her before she actually maintained any kind of presence. Varric suspected that Hawke was simply uncomfortable being in one place for too long after years of being on the run, but did have to admit that she had a point. Once everyone was aware that the Champion of Kirkwall might be around, the early excitement would die down, and she could potentially meet people without them being starstruck, or overly judgemental, or just plain accusatory.
She had also said that when she wasn't at Skyhold, she'd be around Crestwood, where they could meet Stroud. Apparently, there were some other troubles in the area - that she was only too happy to help with, likely to keep herself distracted - so she had good reason to hover around her Warden friend.
Varric worried about her. When she was off traveling - hiding, more like it - with Anders, Varric had sent her letters when he could, and she had done the same. Every once in a while, they would make a brief appearance in Kirkwall, and Hawke was only too happy to see Varric again; but these were few and far between. He couldn't help but wonder - and worry - about what happened during the space between their short visits. During each, Anders seemed to speak less and less, and most of what he did have to say had become increasingly vehement tirades about the plight of mages, the troubles they faced, and the injustice of it all. Hawke had continued to use her standby response of dismissing it with a laugh or casual remark - everything short of a pat on the head and a patient "that's nice, dear" - but Varric observed her carefully each time he saw her, their visits many months apart: her eyes became a little more muted, her laugh a little more hollow, her smile a little heavier, and her very core a little darker.
Watching his friend lose the spark she once had turned Varric's attention to the man she was spending her days with: Anders was changing as well, and in a much fiercer way. His anger was consuming him, eating away at whoever "Anders" had once been; he was falling into a bottomless pit of hideous retribution, and dragging Hawke down with him. All Varric could do was watch as Hawke time and again left with a man who was slowly turning to nothing but poison for her. Just being in his presence was wearing away at Hawke's being, corroding her once boundless optimism, rotting her endless joy, and sucking her very life away.
So Varric really couldn't find it in himself to blame Hawke for wanting to keep her mind off of what she had been through. (And really, he could only begin to guess what she had, indeed, been through; deep down, though, he was sure he didn't want to know.) He couldn't fault her for feeling antsy when staying in one place for too long. He couldn't argue with her when she said she would drop by Skyhold "once in a while". All he could do was anxiously await her return.
Three days later, she surprised him with a cup of tea at his bedside. "Good morning," she greeted him with a smile.
"Bubbles?" He looked around the room, but she proffered the tea at him and he sat up to accept it. "What… what are you doing here?"
"I said I'd be back!" she said cheerfully, sitting on the edge of his bed with her own steaming mug. "It's mint."
"It's…" He looked down at the mug in his hands. Tea. Mint tea? No, the important part was "tea". He had to keep his thoughts simple for now; it was too early for him to have to think about these things. His head was still swimming from sleep. "Why tea?" he asked her.
"Because everyone likes tea," she said in a tone usually reserved for very stupid children. "I thought you might like it, anyway. I bought it from a traveling merchant, and I absolutely adore it. I almost couldn't brew it for you, though; the servants in the kitchens nearly had heart attacks when I walked in."
Varric blinked at the mug before looking up at Hawke smiling down at him around her own tea as she took a sip. "The kitchens," he repeated.
"Of course, the kitchens; where else do you brew tea?" She giggled, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead. "Get out of bed soon; you're showing me around Skyhold today," she informed him briskly, standing. "I'll be trying not to make trouble in the courtyard," she said as she went for the door.
"No you won't," Varric muttered into the tea as he lifted the mug to sip it. If there was one thing Hawke would never do, it was not try to cause trouble.
The tea was sweet. Varric looked up at the now-closed door through which his friend had just disappeared. The tea was sweet, but sweeter was the woman who brewed it.
"That's good," he mused, reaching over to the bedside table to pull over a small notebook. "Need to write that down."
"Sera told me about the time she stole all the left boots from a noble's guards' supplies," Hawke was chatting aimlessly at Varric as she swung her legs slightly, seated on the low wall overlooking the lower courtyard, "and she said the resulting chase was so unbalanced, she was nearly caught from laughing so hard."
When Varric had finally dressed and left his bed, and after proceeding to take care of all of his usual morning activities - meeting the with Inquisitor, getting convinced to tell another story at the Herald's Rest, finding something to eat - it was a little past noon before he was able to meet up with Hawke again. He wasn't worried about her; left to her own devices for a few hours, she was likely to just watch Skyhold and observe its usual activities. Sure enough, he had found Hawke sparring with a few soldiers in the courtyard. She had been demonstrating the use of her staff as a melee weapon, and was defending against three "enemies" with training swords without using her magic. For a while, Varric just watched. Hawke was cheerfully coaxing the others to attack her, and moving gracefully out of their way, using her staff to redirect their blows. She saw him when she made an unnecessary spin - she always did like showing off - and ended the fight by accepting an obvious blow to her midsection. She collapsed in a dramatic show of gasps and cries of "they got me!" and "Maker, take me to thy side!" which earned laughs from the onlookers.
She accepted one of the soldier's outstretched hands and stood, thanking the others for the fight. "Keep at it," she encouraged. "A lot of mages are at a disadvantage when faced with melee opponents, especially once Templars have intervened, since few bother to study any kind of non-magic melee defense." With a wave and a grin, she left them to join Varric near the stairs.
"They like you," he told her with a smile.
"I am an incredibly likeable person," she said in a tone that suggested he might not have known that about her. She sat on the wall, and Varric leaned back against it next to her. "I was walking around the place earlier, and everyone I met was quite happy to engage me in conversation. And not even the kind of conversation where I felt the need to turn and walk away!"
"Well, good," Varric said. "I'm glad you're getting along with everyone."
"Well enough, anyway," she conceded. "Actually, on my way to the kitchens this morning, I ran into Sera. She was carrying a bowl of plums and a ball of twine, so of course I had to ask what she was doing with it. And once she told me, of course I had to help. All I can say is you might want to keep an ear towards Josephine's office for a while. Should be great for a laugh. Or ten."
"Oh. Great." Though his words were exasperated, Varric couldn't help but smile. It was good to see that Hawke was still capable of making friends like she used to.
"Sera told me about the time…" As she continued babbling about Sera, Varric watched her. To an outside observer, she was animated and bubbly, gesturing broadly with her arms and laughing along with her story. But to a careful viewer, her smile failed to reach her eyes, beneath which were subtle shadows, betraying her lack of adequate sleep. Her gesticulations, while energetic, slipped and stuttered very slightly halfway through, as though she lacked the motivation to follow through. But worst of all was her laugh: light, reedy, almost hollow, as if the expression of mirth was merely for show rather than a valid indication of her feelings.
They had already talked about what had happened - at least, to the extent that Hawke was willing to talk, which was… not a lot, when it came down to it - but Varric knew she was keeping a lot buried inside. She needed to talk to someone about everything. The problem was, aside from him, there wasn't really anyone available that might even begin to understand what she had been through. No one else in Skyhold had seen everything that had happened in Kirkwall, which was the beginning of Hawke's slow descent into this darkness she seemed to be cloaked in.
Varric straightened slightly. No, that wasn't true. There was someone else who had been in Kirkwall.
"Hey Bubbles," he cut her off mid-sentence. She went along with it, turning to him with a cheerful "yup"; even she had to have realized that she was talking about nothing. "You haven't met Cullen yet, have you?"
"I have not," she agreed.
"You should."
And so, they ended up heading to Cullen's office to reintroduce the old acquaintances. Hawke had wondered aloud as they walked whether or not Cullen would remember her - "Of course he will, Bubbles; no one could possibly forget the damage you did to the Kirkwall Templars" - or if he had managed to pull that stick out of his ass yet - "Not entirely, no" - but seemed excited to again see someone from her past.
When they walked in, Cullen greeted them without looking up from his desk by mentioning that Varric owed Leliana an explanation of some excursion she had sent an agent on at the dwarf's request, for which she had apparently been hounding Cullen, believing the Commander - for some unknown reason - to have been the one behind the initial request. Hawke giggled at the annoyance in his tone. He looked up to see that she was there with Varric, and stood hastily.
"Of course, you remember Hawke," Varric said pointedly.
"Of course." Cullen smiled at her, but perhaps a bit uneasily. Maybe not uneasy; maybe more hesitant. After all, his memories of her consisted mainly of trouble caused in the Gallows, pranks pulled on Templars, and a slew of inappropriately smart-ass remarks. Hawke's cheeks were warm as she returned the smile, hers much more confident. Without the Templar armor, the man in front of her looked very different than the man she remembered. He seemed more approachable. Kinder. Varric glanced up at her to notice her distraction and smirked to himself. He had hoped Hawke would take to the Commander quickly; it wouldn't hurt her to have a few more friends. Especially those who once held rather significant quarrel with her. "Who could forget the Champion of Kirkwall," Cullen said with a small nod.
Hawke chuckled lightly, swatting the air as if waving away the title and all related concerns. "Oh please; no more of that Champion nonsense. I'm pretty sure Varric's the only one who bothers to use that title any longer."
"Someone should remember it," Varric commented offhandedly.
"I wish fewer people did," Hawke admitted. "But, er. Knight-Captain, it's very nice to see you again," she said, smiling back at Cullen.
"I haven't been a Knight-Captain in quite some time," he mused.
"Oh, ha, of course. You would be, what, Commander now?" she corrected. "My apologies. Old habits and all that."
He chuckled, shifting a few papers around his desk. "It's all right. You can just call me by my name, if it's any easier. If anyone's earned the privilege to ignore authority, it would be you, Hawke," he said in a not entirely non-sarcastic tone.
"Don't encourage her," Varric muttered.
Hawke giggled behind her hand. "Then Cullen it is." She was vaguely aware of Varric leaving as he said something about the Inquisitor or Bianca, but Hawke was …more than slightly distracted with the man in front of her. "You're… looking well," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her temple. "Last time I saw you, you were…" After a brief moment of consideration, she shrugged with a slight snort of laughter. "Well, I suppose you had just betrayed your commander and were attempting to salvage what was left of your order as a powerful apostate left with her equally dangerous friends, leaving behind a smoldering ruin of a city."
Cullen chuckled, shifting his weight a little to stand more comfortably, resting his hands on the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Yes, I suppose it has been a while, hasn't it? A lot has changed."
"Andraste's flaming knickers, you can say that again," Hawke said with a sigh, shaking her head as her shoulders fell. She felt exhausted just thinking about how much had indeed changed. "Every time I've revisited Kirkwall these past few years, I hardly recognize it. It's... nice to be away from it, as terrible as that might sound. Seeing my home, once again destroyed…"
"We've all lost a lot," Cullen said when he glanced up to see the brief pain that flitted across her face. "Though I suppose you have lost more than others."
Hawke sighed, but did her best to hitch up a small smile again. "Yes, I suppose so. Though, I'm trying not to think about it."
"I don't blame you," Cullen agreed gently.
For a moment, a silence stretched between them, but then Hawke giggled. Cullen looked at her questioningly. "Goodness, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I just… I was just reminded of when we met."
"When we met?" Cullen repeated, his brow furrowing as he tried to remember.
"You had been investigating the disappearances and strange behaviors among the Templars," she said. "I found you questioning that recruit on the Wounded Coast."
"Wilmod!" Cullen exclaimed, then sighed. "Maker's breath, yes, I remember that."
"You were threatening him," Hawke continued, "quite violently, if I recall."
"Yes, well," Cullen said, shaking his head slightly and not quite meeting her eyes. "It turned out to be necessary."
"Oh yes," Hawke agreed quickly, "but I just find it interesting how much you've changed since then. And that's why I laughed."
"What do you mean?" Cullen asked, looking back up at her.
"I mean," she said at some length, "that back then, you were so very harsh and uncompromising. But just now, when you said 'I don't blame you', it was in a tone of voice I'd never heard you use in the entire time I was in Kirkwall, all those times we crossed paths. You've changed," she concluded.
"And you find that funny?" he asked, giving her a questioning look.
"I actually find it quite nice," she corrected, smiling. "Back then, you didn't seem to like me very much. I guess that's understandable; you were the very picture of an upstanding Templar, and I was a mage running around with other apostates, right under your nose." She chuckled behind her hand. "I almost felt bad for the trouble I caused, but my goodness was it fun to get a rise out of people like you and Aveline. Though honestly, I always thought you could have used a break from your duties once in a while. Every time we did meet, you seemed to be fretting about something new."
"Well, then perhaps little has changed," he said with a slight sigh.
"Oh?" Hawke asked, taking a step closer to the desk. "You could still use a break, I take it?"
"Oh, er-" Cullen looked up at her smiling back at him. "W-well, yes, but-"
"But nothing," Hawke interrupted. "Who's going to miss you for a few minutes? Leave the desk for a bit, and join me on a walk. It'll be nice to catch up with an old friend."
"Friend?" he repeated with a very slight smile.
"Enemy?" she ventured, earning a chuckle. "Whatever we were - are - it'll be nice to talk, don't you think?"
Cullen couldn't help but smile. Hawke was a rather charismatic and entertaining woman, and he really couldn't find a reason to complain about spending some time with her.
