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"It just seems slow," Harding said. She and Varric found a shady spot next to the range, taking a break from target practice. She looked away from Varric and at Bianca on his lap. "Admittedly harder hitting and very beautiful." Her fingers ghosted in the shape of Bianca's gracefully arched split limbs, but not near enough to touch.
He liked her. Harding was deliberate, yet irreverent.
Harding in Hightown. Maker, that would be a sight to behold.
Varric nodded. "That's because you're nimble and a good shot," he explained. "I was too busy balancing the books to get particularly good. I have more practice now thanks to Hawke, but it's mostly Bianca. She's why you disqualified me from the archery contest, isn't she?"
Harding quirked her mouth, eyes riveted on Bianca. "Nothing personal."
Varric loved how she was so intent. She had lovely high cheekbones with too many freckles. She had sweetly bowed lips and dark eyelashes and he was totally staring.
She sighed wistfully. "Is that oak?"
"Maple." Varric said, his eyes following the twists and plaits of her hair. He liked the way Harding braided her hair. It was practical, yet casual somehow. Soft. Approachable. "You seem to have a crush."
Harding's eyes snapped up so fast it made him dizzy. Her cheeks were the loveliest shade of pink when she blushed. "I do not."
Varric smirked. "Bianca is used to the attention."
Harding smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, Bianca. She's lovely." She made a non-committal gesture. "The real one too."
Varric's smile fell off his face. "She is. But what we've got? Its no different than...." He ran his hand along the polished wood barrel. "What this Bianca and I have." He sighed. "She's a crutch." He looked back at Harding. "I'm not much without her."
"That's not true," Harding said too quickly. "No matter how good this crossbow is, she doesn't aim herself. You might always come back to her eventually, but I bet you could," she cleared her throat aggressively. "Hit the target with whatever weapon you used."
Her ears were absolutely red. Varric was pretty sure she wasn't talking about archery anymore.
Harding stood up, wiping her palms on her sides. "Come on, I'll prove it to you."
Varric got a little flutter in his chest, because he wasn't thinking about archery either, but since she wasn't likely to jump him in the middle of the courtyard, he mentally slapped himself and got to his feet.
"What do you got?" he asked, casual.
Totally casual. Nothing to see here.
"Here," she said, handing him her short bow. It was a small recurve and it weighed almost nothing in his hands. "This one's ash, not so fancy as maple and it doesn't have a name. When you shoot this sort of bow, its better not to get too attached." She looked at Varric, really looked at him. "If you get overly attached, things get broken. That's...not good. Instead, you just get..." Now she smirked. "Good at the technique and enjoy that and don't worry about the other things."
Maker's ball's, she really wasn't talking about archery.
"You'll need to hold this one different than Bianca," she said, picking up another bow from the rack to show him.
"I'm sure it's very different."
Bianca had dark eyes and dark hair and golden skin and she was sharp on the edges. Harding's red like a sunset and her eyes were like leaves and her skin was pale and she was all soft and plump and what was he supposed to be doing again?
Right, archery.
Harding didn't seem to notice his segue and instead showed him the right stance. Varric tried to mimic her, but apparently didn't get it quite right. Harding moved him, kicking at his heel with her toe, moving his elbow in closer.
"Just like that. Tuck your thumb behind your ear when you pull back, then you know you've got a full draw." She handed him an arrow. "Give it a go."
"I'll try not to shoot anyone," Varric groused. Harding rolled her eyes.
Varric gave her a look. "Fine, but I can't be held responsible for damages."
He recreated the stance, tucked his thumb just like she said. He aimed down the shaft of the arrow. He took a breath. He let it out. He loosed.
The arrow zipped across the courtyard, hitting the target with a satisfying thump. Bullseye.
"Well, shit, would you look at that?" She was right. He could do it. It wasn't Bianca. It was him all along.
"Told ya," Harding said, hands on the swell of her hips.
Varric dropped the bow in the ground and grabbed Harding around the waist instead.
She squeaked, but didn't pull away, arms around him instead. He was trying to remember how to breathe when she kissed him. She really kissed him and he couldn't remember the last time that happened.
When they finally came up for air air, Varric muttered. "Wow, Harding, that...."
"Call me Lace."
Varric raised an eyebrow. "Your name is Lace?"
"Don't look at me, I didn't pick it. My mother was a seamstress." When he laughed, she frowned. "Hey, I can find somewhere else to be."
Varric tightened his grip. "I'd rather you didn't."
"Good. Another archery lesson tonight?"
"In the dark?"
"I'm sure," she smirked, "your arrow can find the target in the dark."
Varric laughed. "I think I can figure it out."
"Good," she said, worming out of his arms and picking up her bow with an exaggerated wiggle of her bottom in his direction. "See you tonight."
Varric grinned as he watched her go, realizing he'd left Bianca sitting unattended under the tree. When he picked her up, after using the ash bow she felt heavy.
"Come on," he said. "If you're both good tonight, I'll let her polish your cocking ring right after she polishes mine."