a/n: In this chapter, we find out that Hawke must really like telling stories! No, but seriously; this is just more headcanon for me. She spent the better part of a decade with Varric; surely she's picked up something about telling stories? If not how to tell them well, certainly at least how to tell them convincingly. Practice makes perfect, after all. So, time and again, she finds herself playing storyteller. Mostly willingly.
e i g. h t
The one who repents, who has faith,
Unshaken by the darkness of the world,
She shall know true peace.
Transfigurations 10:1
Mint.
Cullen didn't know why it was still bothering him days later. It was just one of those things that lingers at the tip of your tongue but you can't quite remember. He knew, somewhere, he had smelled mint recently - besides Hawke - and he couldn't figure out where. It was entirely inconsequential, but during lulls in his work, it came back. Mint.
It wasn't until the evening of the third day since Hawke's departure that Cullen finally figured it out. He was on his way to the war room when he overheard two of the servants talking as they left the kitchen at the end of their shift.
"I haven't seen Serah Hawke in a few days," the redheaded elven woman said to her blonde companion. "I'm beginning to miss her stories. Always a good way to start the day."
"I miss the smell of her tea," the blonde said. "The mint reminds me of mother's garden."
"Always with your mother's garden," the redhead said with a chuckle. "But I have to wonder why she brews enough for two cups. Who's she bringing it to?"
"A guess? Ser Varric," the blonde said matter-of-factly. "Who else does she spend so much time with?"
Varric! Cullen finally put it together. The dwarf had joined everyone for breakfast one morning carrying a mug of mint tea, whose scent carried nearly all throughout the dining hall. When asked about it, he laughed all questions away, saying something about waking up to find the steaming mug next to his bed. So now Cullen found himself wondering why Varric would be evasive about the answer, and why Hawke had failed to mention it.
Though, as he entered the war room, greeting Alice, Josephine, and Leliana with a nod, he realized Varric enjoyed lying about everything he could get away with, and Hawke never gave away more information than necessary unless asked specifically about it. He was overthinking.
That didn't stop him from asking Hawke about it.
She was absent for four days before finally returning to Skyhold, and while Cullen heard little snippets about her from conversations he passed throughout the day, he didn't actually see her until that evening. He was at his desk, trying his hardest to focus on the reports in front of him, but failing entirely to read a single word because his mind kept wandering to Hawke. When he finally decided that he had stared at the papers in front of him as much as he usefully could for one evening, he sat back in his chair to rub his eyes and was considering turning in early for the night. He thought he heard the door open, but when he looked up, all three doors were closed and no one else was in the room.
"Just the wind," he murmured, reaching out to shuffle the papers over to one side of the desk.
"Is that all I am now?" He jumped and spun around to see Hawke standing behind his chair, smiling at him. "Though I guess I can't blame you; I actually have been training, trying to remain hidden in the shadows. I know, I know, mages shouldn't have to rely on stealth! But I've been on the run, remember? So it behooves me to know how to slip away and avoid notice. Besides, it's just so much fun to surprise people like this. Hello, Commander."
"H-hello, Hawke," he greeted her, standing. She seemed quite cheerful, and leaned up to give him a quick kiss. "Er, how have you been?" he asked, as it seemed to be the only question occurring to him.
"Oh, y'know. All right," she said airily. "I see the Inquisition is still standing, so that's always good. I would have hated to come back and find you all buried beneath piles of rubble." She chuckled as she leaned up to kiss him again. "Please tell me you're finished with your work for the night," she murmured across his lips.
"Yes," he managed before she kissed him again, "but," he tried to continue between the quick, playful kisses, "I had," kiss, "a question," kiss, "for you."
"Oh?" kiss, "because I," kiss, "was thinking, instead," kiss, "of talking," kiss; and Hawke began to push him slightly towards the ladder, "we could do something," kiss, "a little more," kiss, "fun."
Cullen leaned into her to give her nice, long, deep kiss, then pulled back, holding her shoulders so she couldn't start up again. "First," he said firmly, "I have a question."
"Oh, all right," she conceded, rolling her eyes with a slight laugh. "And what is your question, Cullen?"
He looked down at her. She was just smiling back up at him. "You make tea for yourself and Varric every morning you're here," he said.
"That's not a question," she pointed out.
Well, good to see her smart-assery was still in order. Cullen resisted the urge to frown at her. "The question is why, Hawke."
"Because everyone likes tea?" she said with a shrug.
"And it's just… tea? For a friend?" he asked.
Suddenly, Hawke tilted her head to the side with a knowing kind of smirk. "Oh my," she said. "You're jealous!"
"What?"
"Jealous of Varric?" she continued. "Goodness, jealous already! I never really thought you were the jealous type, but here you are-"
"I'm not-" Cullen started, then realized his tone was too sharp, too defensive, to convey the truth of the matter that he was, in fact, not jealous; so he took a breath before trying again. "I am not jealous, Hawke," he said. "Merely curious. I'm not looking to get in the way of anything, so is there something going on between the two of you?"
"Varric and I?" Hawke burst into a raucous fit of laughter, breaking away from Cullen to nearly double over. "Andraste's great flaming ass! Something between Varric and I!" she barely managed between gasps of laughter.
"I'll assume this reaction indicates a firm 'no', then," Cullen muttered, raising an eyebrow as he frowned at her.
She was trying to catch her breath, leaning on his desk for support. "Oh, Maker, Varric and I…" she breathed, grinning a little too widely. "Sorry, sorry; I'm sorry," she apologized when she saw the look on Cullen's face. "There is, in fact, plenty going on between Varric and I."
The look of disapproval turned to surprise. "What?"
"However," she continued, "nothing in the realm of what you're thinking about. We aren't sleeping together, we aren't romantically involved. I just find it amusing that people seem to think we're together like that."
"So, then… what, exactly, is going on between you two?" he asked.
"Well," Hawke began, leaning back against his desk and crossing her legs comfortably, "he's my best friend. We flirt. I tell him just about everything. He tells me enough to make me think he's telling me everything. And I make him tea in the morning," she concluded. "It's been like this for… well, practically since we met."
"Really?"
"Well… yeah," Hawke said, hoisting herself up to sit on the edge of Cullen's desk while they talked. "Everything was easier back then, before the entire city fell apart. I did my best not to think about how everything was slowly careening out of control, and that meant I spent a lot of time in places like… well, like the Hanged Man. You can't really blame me for just wanting to relax every now and then, can you?"
Cullen scoffed slightly, moving to lean against the wall near the window. "'Every now and then'? From what I hear, it was more like 'all the time'."
Hawke smiled. "You know… that might be a little closer to the truth. No, honestly: I was terrified of what was happening around me. How could I not be? I was pulled into the middle of it all - often against my will - and I was powerless to stop any of it. So, yes, I went out of my way to have some fun when I could."
"Well, then I can see how you and Isabela ended up together," Cullen mused under his breath.
"Oh my, yes," Hawke agreed with a slight giggle. "We both had distressingly similar views of the situation. Y'know, looking back, that should have set off some red flags," she reflected.
"So then… how-" Cullen hesitated, but continued when his curiosity demanded resolution; "Sorry, how did you and Anders…?"
"Ohh, Mr Fatalistic," Hawke said, chuckling lightly. "Right. You're wondering how I ended up with the man who was dead set on making the world out to be a tragic place, especially for people like me and him, when all I was concerned with was forgetting the troubles my kind faced?"
"Mages?"
"Mmhm, mages." Hawke sighed wistfully as she stared up at the ceiling. "Y'know, Anders played the victim rather well, I thought," she said with a very slight smile. "We argued about his stance on certain things quite a bit, but it was just something about that… that hot-headed revolutionary attitude of his, I think. Andraste's tits," she said, exasperated, "when he started talking about the plight of the mages, there was nothing you could do to shut him up. Trust me; I tried everything."
"Everything," Cullen repeated.
"Everything," Hawke confirmed. Then giggled. "Yes, even what you're thinking about now."
Cullen sighed. "Maker's breath, Hawke."
"You started it!" she insisted playfully with a laugh. "Look, I had a point here."
"Did you?" he asked doubtfully.
"I did! You asked me about… about…"
"About Varric," Cullen reminded her.
"Varric! Oh, you did ask about Varric. …What was I talking about? You distracted me. You did that thing with your eyes, and distracted me."
"…with my eyes?"
"When I laugh, you always give me this look, like you're frustrated with me, but then you smile, so it's okay."
"Hawke, I rolled my eyes."
"Yes, well. It's distracting when you get frustrated. It makes me want to frustrate you more, just to see what you'll do with it. You know we won't be bothered for a while…"
"Hawke…"
She giggled, swinging her feet slightly. "All right, all right. Varric. Right. You want to know what's going on between us. I… did mention the part about how he's my best friend, right?"
"You did, but." Cullen frowned, looking away. "Hm."
"'But'...?" Hawke prompted, but then followed it up with a guess: "But we seem to be a little too friendly for that?"
"Well," Cullen said sheepishly. Yes, that's exactly what he was going to say; but when she said it like that, it seemed to reinforce her earlier assertion that he was jealous. He was almost entirely sure that he was not, in fact, jealous, and that this interest was borne from the curious circumstances surrounding the morning mint tea.
Hawke just smiled with a shrug. "Well, like I said. Everything was easier back then. Tension was alleviated easier with flirting than with actual talking, I suppose. After all, when have I ever taken anything seriously?" Cullen rolled his eyes slightly and nodded; she chuckled. "Let me tell you a story, then."
Varric and I got along swimmingly right from the start. After all, he helped me join in on the expedition to the Deep Roads, and even though things didn't… exactly turn out the way I would have liked, we came out of it, a little closer. I mean, he had been there when I had to say goodbye to my brother, and they say tragedy brings people closer.
When I moved into that nice little mansion, rumors and gossip started to fly. A Fereldan refugee, in High Town! Unheard of. And yet Varric was doing nothing to stem the flow of such talk. If anything, he was graciously helping it along, adding embellishments every time a tidbit crossed his hands. I had always kind of assumed that's what he was doing, anyway. When I happened to overhear a rumor in the market that I had slept with four noblemen and two noblewomen to secure my position, however, I thought I ought to get to the root of it.
"All right, Varric," I said by way of greeting, barely pausing long enough to knock on my way into his quarters at the Hanged Man. "What are you saying about me?"
He looked appropriately offended at the suggestion. "About you? Perish the thought. Why would I have anything to say about you?"
"So, the rumor I just heard down at the bar on my way up here that I singlehandedly killed a whole horde of dragons and stole their treasure in order to buy back the Amell estate for my family? That has nothing to do with you."
He chuckled, shuffling some papers around on his desk as he turned his attention more fully to me. "Last time I heard it, you had only killed a single dragon with the help of your friends. Which did happen, actually, if I'm not mistaken."
"It… did, but that's not what they're saying now," I pressed. "And I don't believe you had nothing to do with those exaggerations."
"This is what rumors do, Bubbles: grow. It starts out as 'oh, this refugee killed a drake', and then morphs into 'I heard about how that woman killed a pack of drakes', and eventually somehow turns into 'Hawke managed to slay four high dragons at once'."
I sighed, leaning against the wall as we talked. "I don't know entirely how I feel about that process."
"Hey, enjoy it. At best, you gain some fame," he assured me with one of his smirks.
"And at worst, they think I'm a slattern," I said, making Varric raise his eyebrows. "I wish dragon-slaying was the only thing I keep hearing about. But somehow, word's gone round about how I apparently seduced my way to High Town."
"Huh," he said with a shrug, which I found all-too-carefree for the situation. "Haven't heard that one, myself."
"Varric."
"I haven't," he insisted, holding his hands up. "Honest, Bubbles, I've got nothing to do with that one."
"Well, it started somewhere," I continued.
"Y'know, just a guess," he said, "but it might be linked to you and Isabela getting very… comfortable. When you associate with someone like her, with a known reputation…"
I rolled my eyes. "We're not exactly snogging in the street," I said. "Whatever has happened between us has happened behind closed doors."
"People notice things," Varric explained. "Subtle things. One night, you two were talking casually over drinks; but the next week, you two were standing next to each other at the bar, laughing over shots. One day, you two were just chatting as you walked around the market; next week, you two were trading sidelong glances and smirks."
"So, because I've become friendlier with Isabela, I must be a whore?" I asked, just to make sure I was understanding the connection.
Varric chuckled. "Unfortunately, that's what the rumors do. Can you blame them? When beautiful women do things, people notice."
In spite of myself, I smiled. "Oh, beautiful women, hm?"
"Oh sure," he agreed. "You'd have to be blind not to notice the curves on Isabela."
I chuckled, and straightened from the wall. "She's the only beautiful woman in this situation?" I asked teasingly as Varric moved to sit down at the table.
"Well," he said, just a hint of teasing at the edges, "you do have your assets."
"Oh?" I prompted, opting instead to lean on the table next to him. "And what would those assets be?"
He looked up at me with a smirk. "You're fishing."
"I am," I agreed.
He laughed. "All right; I'll give you one for honesty. It's your eyes."
"My eyes?" I repeated. "How droll. I could have told you I had nice eyes."
"Your hair," he continued, "might be another merit."
"Well, of course," I confirmed, flipping it over my shoulder for sarcastic emphasis. "I do take good care of it."
"That confident charm," he said with a smirk, "is definitely one."
"I always suspected I oozed charm."
"And the curve your lips," he concluded, sitting back in his chair.
That caught me a little off-guard. I had been expecting him to say my voice, or my humor, or my clearly irresistible smile. But lips? I looked over at him, and he was still smirking up at me. "The curve of my lips?" I repeated. "My my, but that's specific."
"You've looked in a mirror, haven't you?" he asked lightly. "You know as well as I do that your lips are nothing if not perfectly curved to give your smile that extra appeal."
"I was unaware others thought so," I responded as airily as I could. He chuckled again. "My eyes, hair, charm- I'll accept those as appeasement," I continued, "but 'the curve of my lips' is a little too explicit for you to simply be humoring me, Varric."
He watched me for a moment, then leaned forward slightly. "It's good to be prepared if I ever put you in one of my books," he said, "so that I can make sure the readers know just how beautiful the heroine is."
"You," I said at some length, reaching up to run a hand along his jaw, "need to be careful with words like that, Ser Tethras, or you might just charm my pants right off."
"I can certainly think of worse things," he said nonchalantly with a smirk.
I giggled. "Maker's breath, Varric," I said, standing. "Is it hot in here, or is it me? Of course it's me. I need some air." I gave him a smile and wave as I left.
On my way out, however, Isabela caught me and dragged me over to the bar to listen to
"Wait," Cullen cut her off suddenly. "I'm sorry-"
"No no no!" Hawke said brightly, "You'll want to hear this. Corff was in the middle of regaling a slew of drunkards with a tale about a griffon that they all believed was true."
"And I'm sure it was enthralling," Cullen agreed quickly and rather dismissively, "but. What just happened with Varric?"
"What do you mean? I thought that was pretty clear."
"You- no, he was flirting with you, and you back at him, and. And you just left?"
"Well, yes."
"You turned down his advances?"
"They weren't exactly advances."
"Hawke." Cullen gave her a very pointed look. "What you just described is the definition of 'an advance'."
"Was it?" she wondered aloud. "No, it wasn't," she decided. "No, because he wasn't actually trying to bed me, see? It was just playful banter."
"He might as well have asked you to take your pants off. And that's playful banter?"
Hawke chuckled. "For us, yes. See what I mean? It was easier to ignore certain situations - like those rumors - by cheerfully flirting it away rather than actually worrying about them. Eventually, those rumors went away, so in the end, it didn't even matter. But he and I have just been like that ever since, I suppose."
"But you two never…"
"Of course not," Hawke answered before Cullen finished his question. "Nothing was ever going to come from it; we both knew that. He has Bianca; I wasn't trying to get in the way of that."
"…His crossbow?" Cullen asked when his eyebrows lowered in consternation.
"Also yes," Hawke said shortly. "My point is, there was always room for playful flirting. It was harmless fun. When I became more seriously involved with Anders, the flirting did… perhaps, subside to an extent. But… well." Hawke glanced away.
"Yes?" he prompted when her hesitation grew.
"Anders was… he…." She sighed, and fell onto her back on his desk, stretching her arms out above her head to hang off the other side of his desk in a clear sign of agitated irritation. "I can't believe you're getting me to talk about him again," she mumbled. "But fine, all right, so. Anders. I loved him dearly, but he was always much more concerned with the mages and the refugees and the Templars and, and everything else that wasn't me. He never neglected me, necessarily, but he didn't always show me affection as often as I would have liked."
"But Varric did."
"Varric-" Hawke started, but stopped. She frowned a little, more to herself than to Cullen, as she brought her arms back to rest on her stomach. "Varric did, yes," she said finally. "When Anders would disappear in the middle of the day because he needed to 'take care of something', I would always find myself back at the Hanged Man. And more often than not, Varric was there, and of course we would talk, and laugh, and drink, and then talk some more, and the talking would become more teasing, and then flattering, and then…
"Look," she said suddenly, sitting up, "the point is. Nothing ever really came of it."
"Nothing 'ever really came of it'?" Cullen repeated, raising an eyebrow. "That's not exactly a ringing endorsement, Hawke."
"He and I never wound up in bed together," she said shortly.
"That…" Cullen sighed, rubbing his temple. "Hawke."
"Look Cullen, sometimes…" she said, almost wistfully, looking down at her hands. "Sometimes I just wanted someone near, so I didn't feel like I was alone against the entire world. Varric was always there for me, despite everything else he was juggling. But Anders' causes resulted in an uncomfortable space between us."
They were silent for a moment. Eventually, Cullen asked, very carefully, "And… did Anders know about you two?"
"What was there to know?" Hawke said with a shrug. "Nothing happened."
"Nothing happened physically," Cullen corrected.
She looked up at him. "Isn't that what matters?"
He met her gaze until her eyes fell. "Is it?" he asked.
Hawke let out a prolonged kind of sigh. "I think so," she said. "I also think that this evening is going very differently than what I had planned in my head." She glanced over at Cullen with a kind of pout. "I'm gone for four days, and you greet me by delving further into my past. Andraste's tits, Commander, I haven't talked about myself this much in years."
"I think it's good for you," Cullen told her, straightening from the wall and walking over to her. "We're worried about you, Hawke."
"Mm," she hummed noncommittally, taking his hands when he stood in front of her. "You shouldn't be."
"But we are." He kissed her forehead. "At the very least, I'm glad you're willing to open up to me. Especially considering our history."
Hawke laughed a little. "Y'know, I never really disliked you, Cullen. But you never seemed to like me, so."
"I didn't hate you," he insisted, "but you were an apostate. And you flouted that fact once you were named Champion and entirely out of our reach. So you were a bit of a vexation."
"Oh, I know," she agreed with a smile. "I made it a point to try to piss the Templars off at that point. Because there really was nothing you could do. Short of me using blood magic in the market, you would have never found justification to try to lock me in the Gallows. So I had my fun annoying you when I could."
"I knew it!" Cullen said with a chuckle. "I was convinced you were messing with us. The incident with those mabari and the red paint in the Templar hall? That was you, wasn't it?"
Hawke tried to hide the impish grin that suddenly spread across her features, and failed entirely. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about, Knight-Captain."
"Is that so?" Cullen asked, taking her hands and pinning them on either side of her hips on his desk. "Because, Champion, we have some eyewitness accounts that say otherwise."
"Ohh, I wouldn't trust any of those," Hawke told him, leaning closer to let her lips just brush his. "You won't get me to talk that easily, Knight-Captain."
Cullen smirked. "Well then, I think we'll just have to see what will get you to talk," he said, leaning in and kissing her.
