Archive of Our Own

The Aftermath: Well. Shit.

Later, when Varric had prettied the whole thing up and handed that particular missing chapter over to the Seeker, he’d realized a few things that should have been obvious at the time.

One- Any revelation that was accompanied by shooting himself in the foot with his own crossbow was probably doomed to failure to start with. Even then, Bianca had known where that story was going.

Two- Any revelation that involved trying to subtly prod Hawke into an emotional realization depended on a) Hawke recognizing subtle and b) Hawke recognizing emotions that weren’t “I like how much blood came spurting out of that decapitation.”

Three- Any revelation that meant overturning Varric’s nice stable romantic tragedy ran straight into the wall of the Tethras’ emotional cowardice and being an emotional coward had always worked out so very well for Varric and the rest of his family.

Recognizing that Hawke was it for Varric cost him one of his toes and a good pair of boots.

Getting Hawke to recognize the reverse?

Varric knew how to write plot. Varric had written a romance based on Aveline and not gotten his balls ripped off and stuffed down his throat. Varric knew how to make the real stuff so fantastical that no one could complain about his sources. The problem with this story was that the reality was too stupid, too insane for even the most rabid of his fans to believe. It had worked out in the end but Varric had no illusions that it was because of him that the problem had been solved.

Love made fools of the best and worst of men.

And Hawke made fools into mincemeat.

I. Families Have Joint Responsibilities

There was no reason to be nervous. Varric spent nearly as much time dragging Hawke out of her mausoleum as he had in his own ancestral home. Which, maybe, should have clued him in a little earlier, but the best lies Varric told had always been to himself.

The thing under his arm let out an indignant squeal and Varric squeezed it a little bit tighter.

That was probably the difference.

Varric wasn’t convinced that the crossbow bolt hadn’t accidentally ricocheted off his foot and taken out part of his brain as well. The market sellers had sure been able to sense blood in the water. The gleam in the pet seller’s eye…

Varric shuddered.

She had tried to sell him a “Royal Nug Bed”. Varric had almost bought a “Royal Nug Bed.”

Varric had bought a “Precious Nug Collar of Love” and he prayed with every ounce of faith he had that no one he knew had overheard that conversation.

It looked ridiculous.

The nug looked ridiculous.

But sharing a pet was something people who were committed to one another did, wasn’t it? And Varric was pretty sure that Dog a) didn’t want to be shared and b) would eat him if he tried to establish ownership.

Surely with all the opportunities coming over to help look after their joint nug would provide, Varric could convince Hawke that they already were a family. It would be good for her. Killer needed some stability in her life and, out of the generosity of his heart, Varric was willing to step up and provide it for her. They just needed to start incorporating some of the more fun aspects of a relationship that didn’t involve skewering blood mages with bolts or swords.

It would work.

It had to.

Taking a deep breath, Varric raised his free hand to Hawke’s front door.

“He brought me a nug,” Hawke said, wiping blood off her vambrace. “How was I to know it was supposed to be a pet?”

“It had a collar,” Isabela pointed out. “You said that beast almost choked on it.”

Hawke looked down at the dog at her feet. “Why would he get me a nug for a pet?”

Isabela rolled her eyes at the other woman. “Oh, temporary insanity, maybe.”

“It was quite cute,” Merill said, shaking her head.

“It was dog food,” Hawke said, petting the hound’s ears when one pricked up. “Varric’s seen him bring down halla. Nugs are barely a snack.”

Isabela muttered something under her breath, shaking her head. Hawke let it go, sitting beside her well fed hound to start cleaning her blade.

II. Families Spend Time With One Another

Varric’s foot hurt like hell. Blondie hadn’t been able to save the toe, but since he’d kept Varric from bleeding to death, Varric wasn’t complaining too much. The worst of it was that Varric wasn’t sure what hurt more: the missing toe or Hawke’s refusal to understand Varric’s perfectly logical proposal.

It wasn’t like they needed to be involved. Varric was already involved.

Him and Hawke could just be family.

Family that fucked.

Varric shook his head to try and put his brain back where it needed to be. He could never be too careful when he was writing this kind of correspondence. He squinted at the page in front of him, looking back over his last lines to Bianca.

…Cadash thought that the best way to get to me was to threaten Hawke. I don’t know what he was thinking. Coincidentally, your family is going to need a new Carta enforcer. I’m not sure where I left all the pieces of the last one….

Yup. Nothing revealing there.

Satisfied with his work for the day, Varric leaned back in his chair to think about more important matters. Namely, how in the Maker’s name was he going to get Hawke to realize that they were already a family so that he could act on the unexpected physical attraction that had caused him to lose his toe in the first place?

Varric furrowed his brow. More importantly, how was he going to get Hawke to realize that she wasn’t alone and that they were the two perfectly fitting pieces of a fucked up puzzle of dead and missing family members? Varric knew the grief and anger boiling under Hawke’s skin. He would do everything in his power to make sure that she didn’t let it eat out her core, the way he had let it eat out his.

The nug had been an obvious mistake.

Varric could only blame being dizzy from blood loss for that one.

He was sad he hadn’t been able to save the collar though.

It was too bad that today was a total loss for his plans. That piece of nugshit, Iwan, had taken advantage of his father’s absence to call a meeting of the Guild. Varric would be tied up trying to keep knives out of his back, making sarcastic comments, and surreptitiously stabbing people for most of the day-

Wait.

Didn’t families do activities together to get to know one another better?

Hawke hated noble gatherings but the Merchant’s Guild when it wasn’t deathly boring was just her kind of paranoid violence.

He could make a subtle claim on her, give her a new hellhole to focus on, and show her a little bit of his life that he’d kept away from her.

What could possibly go wrong?

“So you thought a fire was the answer.”

Hawke shot an irritated glare at Fenris, who didn’t have the decency to look cowed. A vicious thrust sent her sword straight through the bandit’s chest. “I did not start the fire on purpose.”

“But you did start a fire in the middle of the Guild’s summer gala,” Fenris said, completely missing the point.

Hawke planted a boot on the bandit’s chest and pulled her sword free. “It was an accident. The dress Isabela made me wear caught on fire because ‘sleeves are the fashion in Orlais.’” She did a fair impression of Isabela’s drawl. “I had to put it out. How was I to know the head of the Guild was drinking straight grain alcohol?”

“And from there, you set ablaze four tables, sixty chairs, and Worthy,” Fenris said.

Hawke growled at the next bandit.

“Not on purpose,” she said, again.

III. Families Share Resources

The worst part about his failure was that House Tethras was now in a much better position within the Guild. If Varric had thought for half-a-second that Hawke had done it deliberately he would have proposed on the spot.

Instead, he had to field deferential but curious letters from the other major Houses about how he’d managed to get the terrifying Sword of Messing Shit Up and Champion of Kicking Asses She Didn’t Like as his personal pet.

Varric really, really hoped that Hawke never talked to any dwarves other than him ever again.

A part of him that wasn’t the head that had brains perked up at that, imagining all the possibilities for Varric alone with Hawke… For all the rest of time…

Varric re-focused with a low growl. The point was that it hadn’t been deliberate and Hawke was no closer to understanding what Varric was trying to do than when he started.

In fact, she was starting to look at him with a strange, appraising glance that made sweat form on the back of his neck. Maker help him when Hawke started to think.

It almost made him not want to move forward with the next part of his plan. The fact was that Varric had been planning this next part long before he realized that there was a healthy dose of physical attraction mixed in with his care and concern for Hawke.

That graveyard she called a house wasn’t healthy for her. Everytime they walked into it, Varric could see its ghosts draining the life out of her. It always left him with such a bundled ball of fury and helplessness that he’d impulsively come up with a solution. It wasn’t like Varric loved the shithole he was staying in to avoid his own ancestral dump. He’d decided that they both needed a fresh start, somewhere even the stink of Kirkwall couldn’t poison their dreams.

Varric paused for a second. Shit- he really should write that one down. Stink of Kirkwall-

Anyways, he’d bought a house. Not Hightown or Lowtown, but a nice little place with a pretty garden that had done strange things to Varric’s heart when he’d seen it. It felt like her- generous, straightforward, and oddly beautiful.

He’d planned to give it to her, trick her into taking it somehow. Move her stuff over there himself if necessary (Secretly, he’d already taken most of her personal things over there. Leandra’s could rot right where they were. There were some things Varric was never going to forgive.).

Just now… Maybe now they could both share it- help make one another better the way they always seemed to. Him and Hawke. A partnership in all things.

As he picked up the key and turned it over between his fingers, he took a deep breath to calm himself. There was no need to be nervous. Hawke hated the pile she was living in anyways. Didn’t he have the smartest, fastest tongue in Thedas?

How could he fail to show her what he meant?

“I wouldn’t know what to do with two homes,” Merrill said, wandering through the hallway. “Maybe one should be for the dog?”

Hawke pulled at the tunic she’d been forced to borrow from Isabela. It had taken her a week to realize where all her clothes and armor had gone. Isabela’s answer had been to loan her a ...it wasn’t actually a dress, not really, and how was Hawke to fight wearing it? while they tracked down her missing things.

“Why would Varric buy me a house?” she asked, looking around. The dwarf himself wasn’t around to ask; last minute business with the Carta or something. His note had been vague and had this address scrawled at the bottom.

Speaking of bottoms…

She hunted through the dressers until she found a pair of pants, pulling them on over her boots.

“It is a nice house,” Merrill pointed out.

“I already have a very nice house,” Hawke said.

“And a thick skull,” Isabela muttered, looking in one of the closets. Varric’s things hung there and she shook her head. The dwarf was going to need help.

“What?” Hawke asked, sticking her head into the room.

“Nothing,” Isabela said, shutting the closet door.

IV. Families Allow for Individual Creativity

On the positive side, Varric was going to have inspiration for writing lusty scenes for the rest of his life after seeing Hawke in that thing Isabela called a dress. He’d had an excellent glimpse of entirely unexpected Hawke cleavage shortly before Hawke banged him over the head with her pommel for stealing all of her clothes.

In hindsight, surprising Hawke with the move was not one of his best ideas. Hawke didn’t react well to surprises at the best of times and with Isabela involved, Varric shouldn’t have been surprised that everyone had come to the most perverted explanation.

Honestly, what did they think he was going to do with a pair of surprisingly lacy human drawers?

Varric blinked. Okay, he’d give them that one. He was pretty sure that actually was the plot of one of the chapters in his lesser known (and well-disguised penname-based) porn series, “Lovin’ in Lowtown”.

Though on the other positive note, Hawke hadn’t actually removed any of her things so that meant-

Nope. He had nothing.

On the negative side…

Well, everything else.

Hawke was still no closer to understanding him than before, despite his stuttered explanations (and where was his silver tongue when he actually needed it?). The only difference now was that she thought he was some kind of pervert with a fetish for human underwear.

His inability to pull his eyes away from her er… enhanced chest support hadn’t helped that impression.

Varric could feel tendrils of desperation starting to reach up into his mind. He wasn’t sure why he was so desperate to prove to Hawke that their connection was a familial one, why he so badly needed to have her in his bed, but the panic that overwhelmed him at the thought of not having her in his life, by his side, where he could keep an eye on her when she went out to do something insane or stupid-

Wait.

Varric blinked. There was a situation where he could keep her right where he needed her without him making an even further ass of himself. Sure Hawke wasn’t all that impressed with him right now, but she’d never turn him away if he actually needed help.

It was one of the things Varric lo-

Varric very much liked about her.

And Varric did actually need her. With Bartrand out of commission and him acting as the de-facto head of House Tethras, Hawke’s little display had pushed Varric into a precarious political position. Varric was currently assumed to have a lot more political power than he actually did which was making some of the rival families a lot more aggressive in pursuing a potential alliance.

Hawke like pissing off political players. It was an excellent use of her creative talents. And this would be a chance to impress her with his own role-playing skills.

Having her pretend to be engaged to him would kill two birds with one stone- kill the political rumbling and allow him a chance to show her how physically compatible they were with no pressure of an actual relationship hanging over their head.

Varric grinned. Wouldn’t this be such a great story to tell Bianca?

“It made sense.”

“The moon rising at night makes sense. Varric’s last novel made sense. Marrying him because--” Bethany stuttered to a stop.

“It gives us both more political capital and stopped the assassins who kept trying to kill me because I was a threat to the Merchants’ Guild’s profits,” Hawke supplied, without looking up from cleaning her sword.

“Yes, that, does not make sense.”

“Why not?” Hawke asked.

Bethany sputtered, looking to Isabela for help. She found none.

“You don’t just marry people!” she said, finally.

Hawke shrugged. “Apparently, I do,” she said. Half a smile flitted over her lips at the inadvertent turn of phrasing. She recalled how dumbstruck Varric had looked when she agreed and suggested going about the marriage right then. It had been worth it, for the look on his face alone. “It’s not like anything’s really changed,” she said, to soothe her sister.

Isabela choked on her ale, but refused to share what was so funny.

V. Families Commit to One Another

Varric sat on the bed trying to figure out where his life had gone wrong. Of all the times for his silver tongue to kick in with Hawke…

No, that wasn’t fair.

If Varric was honest with himself, and he seldom was, he’d had plenty of opportunities to explain that it was a false marriage. He’d had time after Hawke cut in, after she’d dragged him to the Chantry, after she’d browbeaten a bewildered Grand Cleric Elthina into forgoing the normal procedures and marry them on the spot. He’d had time when they asked if he was willing to take her as his wife in front of the Maker and all the world.

At no point had he even hesitated.

He’d dragged her back to the beautiful house he’d bought with her face in his mind, surprised her by carrying her over the doorstep and-

Varric closed his eyes.

Apparently she had caught the part about it not being a real marriage. Just not the part about them not actually marrying in the first place.

He didn’t even understand why he was upset. He had everything he wanted. Hawke was in his house sharing his life. He’d be able to protect her in more ways than he’d ever imagined. The only thing he was missing was-

Varric perked up.

Of course!

That was the only reason he was upset. He still hadn’t had a chance to act on the physical attraction that had prompted this mess in the first place. He needed to show Hawke he was serious about this commitment.

Varric frowned. Commitment as friendly, fucking family. Not the other kind of commitment.

Even in his head, Varric realized that sounded ridiculous, but he mentally shrugged and got on with his planning. Reaching over to the table, Varric cleverly undid the series of traps that led to the secret compartment in the bottom of the drawer. He pulled out the small box and opened it, staring at it for a few long minutes.

He’d seen the ring months ago and he couldn’t stop himself from picking it up. No gems, no ornate side pieces, but it was the most finely wrought bird of prey he’d ever seen. It even lay flat against the finger so that it wouldn’t catch during a fight. He’d known it belonged to Hawke the moment he’d seen it, even if he’d had no idea how he would ever give it to her.

Varric picked it up, feeling the sense of rightness descend deep into his bones.

No more fancy plans or ornate covering up of what he actually wanted.

He’d have a simple dinner with the wine Hawke liked and lay it out on the table.

Literally.

Varric smiled. He could feel everything he wanted just within his reach.

It was just out of her reach. “I’ve almost got it!” Hawke called up, trying to will her fingers into growing just another bit. “Can you let me down any further?”

“Not if you want to come back up the same way,” Isabella said, shifting her grip on Hawke’s legs. She and Fenris had the other woman by the ankles, dangling out the window of the third story. Hawke was nearly touching the drainage gutter that ran along the second floor’s roof, a glint of gold her goal.

“How did she manage to get...whatever it is… stuck there?” Fenris asked.

“Talent,” Isabela said. “Seriously, love, have you put on weight?”

Hawke was too focused on her goal to respond. Whatever the glint of gold was, she would get it back. Losing it-- accidentally! She’d accidentally knocked into him as he was opening the box and it wasn’t her fault they were next to an open window-- losing it had hurt Varric. Hurt him badly enough that he’d thrown his arms up in apparent defeat and just left.

She would get the Maker-damned golden thing back if it killed her, which was looking more likely all the time.

Fenris shifted forward a fraction and Hawke scooped up the thing with a triumphant breath. “Got it. Pull me in,” she called up, carefully uncurling her fingers to find…

A ring. A perfect, golden ring with a hawk sculpted into its band.

∞. Families Love
It was only when Varric realized that Hawke would never love him romantically that he realized what exactly he felt for Hawke.

Once a coward, always a coward.

He’d fought it every inch of the way, doing such stupid shit that he made the hero of Hard in Hightown look like a genius. Considering that was a man who had managed to get his cock trapped in a wine bottle, that was saying something.

He wasn’t even going to be able to use this for story fodder.

Varric sat down at the desk in his perfect house, in the perfect life he had managed to accidentally give himself and buried his head in his hands.

Sometimes even consummate liars needed to tell the truth.

Even if only to themselves.

Varric knew now. Even if he wondered if there had been some way not to do as badly as he’d done, the truth was that he could never have made Hawke love him. Not the way he loved her. He could acknowledge that now and there was a certain peace in the knowing.

He’d be whatever she needed him to be. Friend, companion, shelter in the storm. He also wasn’t going to hide behind a past he’d long since grown out of. If he was going to be honest, he would take the thorns as well as the rose.

Varric smiled weakly. Now that was a line he could actually use somewhere. Buoyed slightly by the hopeless, utter ridiculousness of the situation, he picked up his pen and leaned over the sheet of paper.

There was really only one last thing left to do.

Dear Bianca,

It’s Hawke.

Varric

As he folded the letter up and fixed his seal, he leaned back in his chair, sad, but relieved. Time to be the family he’d been pretending he wanted all along.

“It’s about time,” Hawke said quietly, behind him.

No rogue to sneak up on him, she still moved lightly enough that she’d been able to enter without his noticing. Curiosity had kept her quiet as he wrote, but nothing had stopped the faint curl of her lips when she read over his shoulder.

In a spectacular move that Varric would later refuse to talk about and Hawke told at nearly every anniversary, Varric jumped up from his seat, cracking his head against Hawke, which made him fall forward onto the desk knocking over the inkwell which rolled onto the candle which slumped forward onto the curtain.

“Oh. Shit.” said Varric, as the room started to burn.

Later, as they stood outside the house, the fire having been precipitously put out by a suspiciously close-by Isabela and Fenris, Varric turned to look at Hawke.

All his words were caught in his throat, everything he wanted to say caught by the terror that she would never want to speak to him again now that she knew-

Hawke’s hand caught the light and Varric’s brain stopped.

“You knew,” he said.

Hawke rubbed her hand up her arm, then shook her head. “Just when I saw the ring,” she said, holding her hand out to look at it. She glanced up and at him, half smile about her lips. “Did you really think I’d go along with it, if I didn’t want to?”

“You’ve been more generous for far less,” Varric said quietly. “But I’d hoped, even if I didn’t want to admit it.”

Hawke shook her head at him, looking back at the house. “We’re going to need a place to stay.”

Varric frowned. “You don’t like the house?”
“The burn marks do add a certain something,” she observed. “But I rather like having a roof.”

“Maybe we can pick out the next one together.” Varric grinned. “And I can help you buy some replacement...support.”

Finally, Varric was feeling confident, cool, in-control. Hawke was no longer going to be able to throw off his talented tongue. And thus was born the line that haunted Varric right up to the day of his golden anniversary.

“So,” Varric waggled an eyebrow, “let’s go be a fucking family!”