a/n: Will you believe I forgot that I had never uploaded this? Sometimes I am the worst.
So anyway, here we are. Finally. Last installment of Spaces Between. Figured now would be a good time to say a few things. Like did you figure out how all the Chant of Light verses related to the chapter they were in? (You might need to use your imagination with some more than others, but there is a consistent imagery throughout, specifically with light and shadow/darkness.) Or, did you see how I buried the story title into each chapter? Go back and check, ctrl-F and everything. It's there. The phrase "space between" or "spaces between" appears in every chapter. There's a reason for that. It's because -gasp- this entire story has been about those spaces! No way. o:
Anyway. Thanks for joining me on this adventure. I hope you enjoyed yourself as much as I did.
e p i l. o g u e. t w o - h o m e
O Maker, hear my cry:
Guide me through the blackest nights
Steel my heart against the temptations of the wicked
Make me to rest in the warmest places.
Transfigurations 12:1
A year and a half had passed since Hawke had last seen Skyhold. Despite her travels and everything she had seen since, her days within those walls were still some of her most cherished memories. After her visit to Wiesshaupt, she had wandered through the less populated parts of Tevinter and Nevarra in the general direction of the Free Marches. She had lingered in a few smaller towns when no one recognized her or her name. She enjoyed the anonymity. But eventually, of course, she found herself back in Kirkwall.
The last letter that she had received from Varric about two weeks prior indicated that he was on his own way back to Kirkwall- and something about some business with some Qunari? She was going to have to ask about that because she was sure it was going to be quite the tale. She had assumed he would make it back first, but Hawke wasn't quite expecting to hear his name so readily around the city upon her own return. Especially with the title "Viscount" in front of it.
After settling back into the Hawke estate - left in surprisingly nice condition; someone was still caring for it, and Hawke had some ideas about who that might be - she opted to pay a visit to the Keep and revisit some old friends.
Aveline was first. The barracks seemed quiet that afternoon; Hawke hoped that the Guard-Captain was in a good mood. Otherwise, she was likely to be met with a frown and, "Can you at least wait until tomorrow to start causing trouble again?" despite her over-a-year long absence. As she descended into the barracks, the guards perked up, and started greeting her cheerfully. She quieted them all; "I'm trying to surprise the Captain," she explained.
A surprise it was. When she walked into Aveline's office, the redheaded woman was hunched over her desk, writing furiously. "Not now," she snapped without looking up.
"That's all right," Hawke said casually. "I can always come back in another year."
Aveline looked up at her, but her face showed no initial change of expression. "Hawke," she said slowly, as if she was unsure if the blonde was real.
"Hi Aveline," Hawke greeted her with a grin.
Finally, Aveline stood. "Hawke!" She laughed and moved around her desk to give the other woman a tight hug. "Maker, but you've been gone for a while. How are you?" She held Hawke out at arm's length to examine her. "You're too skinny. And very tan. You've done a lot of travelling, then? Didn't stay in one place for very long."
"Can you tell what I had for breakfast?" Hawke teased.
"Yes, but only because you spilled some on your shirt," Aveline countered with a smile. "It is good to see you. You're doing well?"
"Oh yes," Hawke agreed, motioning for Aveline to go back to her desk in a slight apology for the interruption. "You guessed right, I did travel quite a bit. I saw a lot of Tevinter, so that was interesting. Nevarra was kind of quieter than I expected. But it's good to be back. How are things in Kirkwall?"
Aveline's smile slipped as she sat back down. Hawke laughed. "That bad?" she said. "Let me guess- it's the new viscount?"
"So you've heard."
"Of course. I could barely walk into the city without hearing about him. My, my; I never saw him as much of a politician. But at least his mouth is being put to good use."
"Too good of a use," Aveline sighed. "Maybe you can talk some sense into him. He simply cannot use the City Guard as protection for the circus that's coming through. He's just trying to give me a headache."
"Well, Aveline, I have some good news for you," Hawke told her. "I will make sure Varric no longer gives you a headache. After all, we both know I'm much better at it."
"Oh good," Aveline said mildly, turning back to her paperwork. "It's good to have you back, Hawke."
"Glad to be back, Aveline."
She stayed to chat for a while with the guards, but avoided telling any stories of her travels. "How about you grab some drinks after work?" Hawke suggested. "I might just be down at the Hanged Man at night, telling some interesting tales."
Then, it was off to the viscount's office.
"The Viscount is not seeing anyone right now," the Seneschal said without even looking at her. "You may come back tomorrow."
"Afternoon, Seneschal," Hawke greeted him pointedly. It was interesting how easily everyone had fallen into complacence without her there. Very few of Kirkwall's citizens had bothered to pay attention to her face until she spoke. So when Bran swung around suddenly and saw her face, and recognized her as the woman who had caused so much stress in the past, the mix of fear, frustration, and confusion made Hawke laugh. "Are you sure the viscount isn't seeing anyone?"
"H-he has requested-" Bran started, trying to regain his composure. And failing.
"-for no one to interrupt him, yes, I know," Hawke finished for him. "But I don't think that includes me. Do you?"
"Well…"
"Right. So, if you'd be so kind, I'd really like to see my friend again." Hawke smiled again, and moved past the seneschal without another word. Undoubtedly, Bran's thoughts were lingering around the realm of, "Maker, what did I do to deserve this?"
Hawke peeked around the corner into the viscount's office. Varric was sitting comfortably, and writing away calmly at his desk - quite a different composure from how she had found Aveline. So she walked right up to his desk. "Good afternoon, Viscount Tethras."
He looked up with a surprised smile. "Bubbles," he greeted her with a chuckle, immediately dropping what he was doing. "I wasn't expecting you back like this! I was looking forward to a grand entrance of trumpets and magic- this is terribly underwhelming."
"I am sorry to disappoint," Hawke said, walking around the desk to give Varric an impressively big hug. "Andraste's tits, I missed you. If I didn't just want to see you so much, I would have planned something more entertaining. Next time, yeah?"
"Hopefully there won't be a 'next time we don't see each other for the better part of 18 months'," Varric suggested, hugging her back. "I'm glad you made it back in one piece."
"So am I." Hawke planted a firm kiss on his cheek as they broke apart. "And look at you! Viscount! My goodness, I couldn't believe it when I first heard it. But I can absolutely see how you ended up here. Let me guess…" she started, leaning back on his desk, "you didn't actually want to be viscount, but you started taking steps on your own to improve the city, and garnered enough unintentional support that they just threw you into the Keep and bid you good luck?"
"You know me too well," he laughed. "Just throw in a little more pestering Bran, and a little less support."
"You have opposition?" Hawke asked.
"Oh, nothing worth mentioning," Varric brushed it away. "Some people just don't like having a dwarf in charge. They're the minority, though. Seems like most citizens like having me here."
"Me included," Hawke agreed with a smirk.
"You know I can't give you special treatment," Varric pointed out.
"I know that, you know that, everyone knows that," Hawke said, "but that's not how it's going to work in practice."
Varric chuckled. "How about instead of thinking up ways to make my job more difficult, you reverse that energy and figure out how to make my job easier?"
"How about you buy the drinks, and I'll consider that more seriously."
"You have a deal, Bubbles."
Life became very comfortable. Unfamiliarly comfortable. Hawke worked closely with Varric and Aveline to improve the city- as well as communications between the City Guard and the Viscount's office. Everything seemed to be oddly peaceful in Kirkwall, if not Thedas as a whole.
Hawke began falling into contented routines. During the day, she would annoy Aveline until she either gave the blonde a job or told her to leave; then, she would annoy Varric until he did the same. (Though more often than not, Varric wouldn't be the one to tell her to leave - it was likely either the seneschal reminding Varric that he had work he was avoiding, or Aveline reminding Hawke of the same.) If nothing more pressing demanded her attention, she would visit the Alienage, where Merrill still resided, and help out the elves while catching up with her friend. (Merrill had been exuberant to have Hawke back, even going so far as to arrange a small gathering to celebrate her return.) If Merrill was busy elsewhere, then Hawke would check out the Chanter's board, or wander the city, assisting where needed.
The evenings, of course, were spent at the Hanged Man. Varric made his appearances often, and together they would tell outlandish stories about Kirkwall's past, or he would let her lead on stories about her recent travels. And when everything wound down, she would retire to Varric's old suite, which he had gifted her - "since those stuffed shirts think it's better for my public image if I actually live at the Keep instead of this wonderful place. They have no accounting for taste." Of course, the Hawke estate was still hers, and she would visit it often and spend the occasional night there, but the palatial suite at the Hanged Man held much more charm, and was much more of what she had grown accustomed over the years of traveling.
She was content.
It was a contentedness that extended further than she expected. When Varric was able to avoid his handlers, he would spend the night with Hawke. They would talk and laugh well into the night, away from the bustle of the bar. Just in case he was found out, he didn't want to be blamed for avoiding work, so he would bring along letters and paperwork that Hawke would help him with.
"Let's see," she mused over the next letter. It was on fancy letterhead, and smelled faintly of lilacs. "Another letter from some noble twat."
"It always is," Varric agreed with a slight sigh, looking over a budget report with the same interest he might have afforded a rotting piece of fruit. Hawke was reclining comfortably on her bed, and Varric had his head on a pillow on her lap. "Broad strokes?"
"Lady Hillshire is requesting the removal of a recent installation in Hightown due to the… 'uncommon nature of the decor', likening it to Tevinter heraldry," she said.
"Broader, Bubbles," Varric suggested.
Hawke giggled. "The good Lady doesn't like the new fountain. Says it reminds her of slavers."
Varric sighed, covering his face with the budget. "Not the fountain we installed last week?"
"The very same."
"Wasn't Hillshire on the committee that petitioned for it in the first place?"
"She was, and now she's on a committee that is petitioning for its removal," Hawke said, smiling down at him.
He lowered the report so he could look back up at her. "I'm not dealing with that one."
"Off to the 'fuck it' pile, then," Hawke agreed cheerfully, balling it up and tossing it into the fireplace where it joined the smoldering embers of many other letters. "Let's see what's next."
"First," he stopped her from going to the pile of papers next to them, "take a look at this." He handed her the report. "Tell me what's wrong with it."
Hawke hummed a little as she glanced over it. "Seems… pretty standard," she mumbled. "Oh, no, wait." Her brow furrowed; Varric smiled slightly. "No, what's this?" She pointed at it to illustrate her disbelief. "Five hundred sovereigns for 'Wounded Coast Expedition'? What is this?"
Varric chuckled, closing his eyes. "Your guess is as good as mine, Bubbles. I think I'm going to have to speak with our Guard-Captain tomorrow; it either came from her office, or the Seneschal."
"Five hundred," Hawke muttered in disbelief. "Five hundred damned sovereigns for what? We've already mapped out the Wounded Coast."
"Extensively," Varric agreed. "Don't worry about it for now; just wanted to see if you happened to know anything about it, but your reaction says otherwise."
"Trust me, if I was spending the city's gold on pointless adventures, you'd be coming with me," Hawke assured him, setting the report on the top of the pile. She stifled a yawn. "Maker, it's getting late. Are you staying tonight?"
"I haven't decided yet," Varric responded playfully.
"Oh, is my company so terrible?" Hawke teased, ruffling his hair. He chuckled. "You're free to leave, Viscount Tethras. I won't keep you from your office."
He opened one eye, but saw Hawke smiling at him. He opened the other. "You know damn well that's a lie."
"It is indeed," she agreed. "If I had it my way, I'd say hang the title of viscount; I miss my best friend. Look at all this work you're always buried in. I don't remember Dumar being this busy. Where are you getting all this work from?"
"Ah, it's my curse," Varric said dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm. "Because I give a shit! I take on the work to make sure it's done properly. Kirkwall needs someone who cares, I think."
"It is about time," Hawke agreed.
They lapsed into silence. Hawke began mindlessly stroking Varric's hair as she watched the fire slowly smolder itself out. There were still some voices in the bar, but as they drifted up the stairs, they muted into little more than a faraway rumble. A bard was staying the night, so the soft melody of a lute would occasionally drift through the building as well. Hawke looked back down at Varric, still lying with his arm over his eyes, and smiled.
She was… happy.
Years ago, she would have never been able to imagine that this was going to be her life: comfortable, actively helping the city she called home, spending time with her best friend, and rarely dwelling on the events that led her here. Though she missed them, and always would, the men she had loved recently were beginning to wane: Anders was slowly becoming more of a distant, humming pain rather than a throbbing wound in her heart; Cullen was becoming a happy memory rather than a lingering regret. The Mage-Templar Rebellion and the Inquisition were a faded dream that no longer hounded her in sleep. Even the small metal locket over her heart went unnoticed most days. Everything was settling in the best way.
She was happy.
"Stay the night," Hawke suggested after another yawn. "I know you sleep better here than in the Keep."
Varric laughed, lowering his arm. "That I do. All right, I'll stay. You're sure you don't mind the company?"
Hawke leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead. "In fact, I prefer it when it's you."
Varric stopped her from sitting back up with a hand on the back of her head, and lifted himself to kiss her properly.
"Right," Hawke breathed when they broke apart, "I keep forgetting I can do that."
"Anytime you want, Bubbles," Varric reminded her with a little smirk.
She held his face in both hands and kissed him again. She enjoyed it in the same way a hungry man enjoys a banquet. In the four months now that she had been back, it had only been two weeks since a drunken night of reminiscing about "the old days" led to Hawke wondering why she and Varric had never gotten together.
"You know why," he told her.
"She's married," Hawke pointed out, only slurring very slightly. "I'm not sayin' to give up on her or nothin' - Maker knows I have no place to talk 'bout that - but might not hurt to try'n have some fun 'til she realizes what she's missin'."
"And you're suggested you?" Varric asked.
Hawke giggled. "Yeah, I suppose I am."
After they laughed about it, he stood up nonetheless and walked over to kiss Hawke very firmly. "All right, Bubbles," he said, meeting her surprised gaze with his slightly-less-drunk one, "I suppose it is about time."
Hawke broke away smiling. "Go change, love," she told him with a playful pat on the head. "We need to get some sleep. You have a busy day tomorrow."
Varric sighed, sitting up. "I have a busy day everyday."
"Everything was quiet," Hawke said, lowering her voice for effect. The crowd around her leaned in closer. "Only a breeze stirred the trees. I couldn't hear the bandits anywhere. But I knew there had to be more- there's always more." She made a show of pretending to look around. "They couldn't be hiding in the trees: it was the dead of winter; there was no foliage to hide them. But they were nowhere to be found. Then suddenly!" She leapt from her chair and mimicked a huge explosion, complete with sound effects. The crowd jumped back in surprise. "Boom! A gigantic fireball from the sky lands right next to me! Throws me back, and with my ears ringing and partially blinded, I'm figuring they had mages among them that I didn't see."
"But you'd never miss another mage," Varric helpfully added.
"Of course not," Hawke agreed. "Mages are tricky bastards; gotta keep a close eye on them." She gave her audience a knowing wink, and they chuckled appreciatively. "But for a moment there, I doubted myself, so I was looking around to find them…" As she looked around this time, a pair of eyes at the back of the bar caught her attention.
She froze.
From the shadows under a drawn hood, a familiar set of eyes had been watching her. Familiar… but not familiar enough. They were they same sharp, distrusting, ever-watching eyes she remembered, but now they glowed faintly violet. Glowed inhumanly. She stared and stared, worried that if she dropped her gaze, the man watching her might disappear. When she felt Varric's hand on her arm, the violet eyes turned away from her first.
"You were looking for the mages…" Varric prompted gently. He noticed her reaction, but couldn't see what she had. For now, however, she had an expectant audience; story first, explanations later.
"The…" Hawke blinked, and looked down to see dozens of normal pairs of eyes looking back up at her. "The ...mages," she mumbled. "The… oh! The mages, yes; I was looking for them," she picked up, giving herself a mental shake, "but of course, there were none to be found."
"Then where'd the fire come from?" a girl called from the audience.
Hawke smiled. "I will tell you where it came from," she said. "It came from…" a pause for drama's sake, "...a dragon!"
Obedient gasps and murmurs of surprise rippled through the crowd. Hawke smiled wider. "Those bandits knew there was a dragon's lair nearby, and had hoped to shake me by luring me into her nest. Little did they know, I've had some experience with dragons myself. So what did I do? What else! I led the dragon right back to them, and waited until they begged for mercy before killing it myself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I saved an entire countryside from bandits and a bloodthirsty dragon." With a little bow, applause erupted around her.
"Not bad, Bubbles," Varric told her. "You're getting better."
"Oh, stop," Hawke said with a playful swat as she sat back down. "I'll never be better than you, and you know it."
Varric chuckled. "I do indeed. So, what happened there?"
"What happened where?" Hawke asked innocently. The crowd began to disperse, and her eyes wandered to the far side of the bar. The hooded figure was still seated at a table in the corner, away from the bustle.
Varric followed her gaze now the he could see what had distracted her. He frowned. "Hm."
"It can't really be him," Hawke murmured. "There's no way he'd come back like this."
Varric said nothing.
"Unless…" Hawke frowned as well, and looked back at Varric. "Varric."
"Yes?" He turned to look at her as well.
"You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" she asked.
"About what?" he asked with a shrug. "Surely you don't mean to imply I knew Anders was back in Kirkwall."
Her frown deepened. "Varric."
"He reached out to me," he said before Hawke could begin berating him; he could see it forming in her mind, and did not want the words to reach her mouth. They were likely to be harsh. "He still wasn't sure if he wanted to see you again, after leaving you like he did, but wanted to know how you were doing. I guess he decided to see you anyway."
"And you knew," Hawke said patiently, "he was in Kirkwall."
"I… did," Varric said carefully.
"For how long?"
"About ...two weeks," he said.
"Two weeks." Hawke deflated and buried her head in her arms on the table. "Maker's breath, he's been here for two weeks. And you didn't think this was relevant enough to tell me?" she asked, her voice muffled as she refused to look up.
"You don't have to talk to him," Varric suggested.
"You're right, I don't have to. But you know I'm going to anyway."
Varric smiled just a little, and stood. "You know where to find me if you need me," he told her, stroking her head and kissing her temple.
For a minute or two, Hawke continued sitting with her face hidden. She could hear Varric saying his goodbyes as he left, and she could feel those glowing eyes on her again. Anders. Anders was back. Anders had come back to Kirkwall to see her, to talk to her. Anders was here. It felt like a lifetime ago when last she saw him, but it was likely closer to - she tried to count the months - three years? Two and a half?
Whatever reason he had to return, she wanted to hear.
So she looked up - he wasn't watching her when she looked at him - and took a breath to steady herself. She stood, walked over to the corner he was sitting in, and sat lightly across the table from him. "Afternoon, love," she greeted him casually, if tense, in a way that suggested they had merely had a rough couple weeks apart rather than the torturous months that had separated them.
He looked up at her. This close, she could see the extent of the corruption that his eyes betrayed: blue-violet coursed through his body, glowing subtly in veiny patterns across his skin; his hands shook as he shifted his mug away from the center of the table; his eyes glowed violently violet from sunken sockets, beneath which heavy shadows told stories of too many sleepless nights. He reached a shaky hand over to rest on top of hers, and even before he closed the space between her skin and his, she could feel him pulsing with uncomfortable warmth and power, as though he might ignite the very air around him.
And then, he spoke. His voice was no longer the soft Fereldan lilt she remembered, the gentle but passionate tone that had spoken to her through many days and nights of trouble. It was vivid but weak, it was two voices speaking together, intertwined and eating away at one another in the same way she now knew the two minds inside this one body were locked in constant struggle.
He said, voices shaking, "Hawke. I need your help."
spacesbetween
The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.
Mark Twain
I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter.
Winston Churchill
The silence isn't so bad
'Til I look at my hands and feel sad
'Cause the spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.
Vanilla Twilight - Owl City
The earth that is the space between
I'd banish it from under me
To get to you
One Sweet Love - Sara Bareilles
