Chapter Text
Varric barely holds back the weary sigh he feels building in his chest. This meeting was going on forever and still showed no signs of slowing down. What he’d asked for was fairly simple - to build a proper orphanage in Kirkwall instead of leaving the kids to rot in Darktown. Why the council felt the need for a six-hour-long meeting debating legalities and budgets to get it done he didn’t know. He had half a mind to have it completed on his own. He had the money and resources. He could pretend to apologize after when it was already too late for them to stop him. With Hawke now finally at his side where he belonged, feet thrown up on the massive oak table like he didn’t have a care in the world, he could probably even pull it off.
Just when he was internally debating whether planting a crossbow in Bran’s foot would actually end the meeting, the door to the council chambers was thrown open and his housekeeper strolled in with a tea tray. This could have been the second coming of Andraste he was so happy to see her.
She widens her eyes in an overly-dramatic show of shock.
“Goodness me, I’m sorry! I was certain the meeting was supposed to be over hours ago!”
She puts her back to the rest of the party and winks at him when she sets down the tray. The tea was a familiar blend rumored to be her own particular recipe but there was a little something different about it today. He brought the cup towards his lips, pausing once the bite of lovely Antivan brandy hit his nose.
“The perfect woman really exists,” he mumbles under his breath, knowing she’d hear. She chuckles and turns towards the rest of the visitors.
“I’m a horrible hostess, messieurs. I was only aware that the Viscount and Lord Hawke were still in attendance. I could prepare something for you all as well, although it seems as though your own families are surely expecting you by now.”
The fools all turned to look at the windows and exclaimed as one over the waning daylight, his beautiful housekeeper expertly wrangling them all to her will like puppets.
“Thank you all for coming today, and I will be sure to be better prepared for next time. Perhaps my honey rolls? I hear you’re fond of those in particular, Lord Godfrey,” she smiled sweetly up at the old bastards as she escorts them towards the door.
“I am indeed, Miss Rosie. Lady Godfrey tried her best to make them herself, but it just wasn’t the same,” the old man playfully groaned as he patted his distended stomach.
“Well, I’ll be sure to whip up a special batch just for you. Perhaps once we have the orphanage up and running I can teach a lad how to make them. You’d be able to hire yourself a new assistant that knows all my secrets,” she winks like they’re sharing a secret as the old man brightens up like she offered him the crown.
“What a wonderful idea! I’ll look forward to it, Miss Rosie. Until next time. Viscount,” he nodded towards Varric as he left.
Finally it was just the three of them. Hawke was observing Rosie with new interest as she sauntered back towards the head of the table.
“That was brilliantly done, as usual,” Varric drawled, taking another sip of his “tea.”
“Mm-hmm,” Rosie murmured. “He’s also the leader of that group of stuffy old farts, so if he suddenly changes his tune and wants the orphanage built...”
“The rest will follow like little ducklings. Brilliant. Are you single, Miss Rosie?” Garrett asked, leaning towards her with a roguish grin.
“No. And neither are you. Are you staying for supper, Lord Hawke?”
“I’m afraid not. Loads of letters to catch up on, lectures from sisters to listen to, lovers to entertain,” he winks at them both before he wanders off with a half-hearted wave.
“Alone at last,” Varric sighs and grabs Rosie’s hand, tugging her gently until she falls into his lap. “Much better. I should conduct all my meetings with you right here. You’d have all of Kirkwall in line within five minutes.”
She snorts and wiggles a bit to get more comfortable. “I’m doing my best. You just sit there and be my pretty figurehead.”
“Think I’m pretty, huh?”
The blush on her cheeks grew bright even as she firmed her jaw and looked down her nose at him.
“So what?”
He chuckles, nuzzling her nose with his. “So, I heard a rumor that you’re not single.”
“You heard right. I’m being courted by a rather handsome dwarf. He’s quite a catch, even if he falls asleep with ink on his face or leaves arrows in my gardens.”
“Mmhmm,” he hums, “I also heard he likes you a lot. I even heard he once spent an entire six hour meeting wishing he could be kissing you instead.”
“Did you now? How scandalous,” she grins, her mouth so close to his he could feel her breath on his lips.
“Kiss me, Rosie. Orders from the Viscount,” he rumbles playfully.
And she does - her lips as soft and captivating as the rest of her.
And as delicious as the taste of the brandy had been, nothing could compare to a kiss from his Rosie.