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A human. Of rudding course he would fall for a human. It wasn’t his fault, really. It had to be hers. Aaliya Hawke, with her sly tongue and long legs— why had it taken him so long to notice those legs? They’d been through hell together, the two of them, otherwise known as the Deep Roads and most of Kirkwall. He’d seen her take on darkspawn without batting an eyelash, swindle countless free drinks for herself at the tavern and flirt her way out of more than one seemingly impossible bind. He’d also watched her mourn the loss of family, struggle with the burden of trying to do right by every poor sod in Kirkwall and nearly bleed to death more times than he really wanted to acknowledge. Suffice to say, he liked to think he knew her pretty damn well at this point.
Only now, he was realizing he wanted to know her even better. He wanted to know what it’d be like to wake up in the morning beside her, to trace rough hands over the scars he caught glimpses of in passing, to hear what his name would sound like coming from her lips as he—Maker’s balls, this was bad. In all his years of writing, he’d never guessed that he would actually become one of those cliches his critics always liked to point out. The dwarf in love with his human friend. Feelings that were undoubtedly unreturned and best kept to himself. He could always count on himself to go for the dramatic. It was one story he wouldn’t be putting to paper any time soon, at least.
He watched her now as she trained, muscles moving as she sparred with Fenris. The elf was the perfect partner for practice, as he certainly wasn’t going to make it easy, but Varric felt an odd pang of jealousy as the two exchanged swings and saucy remarks. It was absurd really. She and Fenris were no more than good friends, same as himself. Even if she was involved with the elf, it sure as the Maker’s ass wasn’t any of his business, much as he might like it to be. Despite it all, he considered himself lucky. He had the bragging right of her unwavering friendship, which was more than most of the other assholes garnering for her attention would get. Well, he supposed they weren’t all assholes, but it was a reasonable enough assumption a lot of the time in Kirkwall.
As he saw the duel draw to a close, he knew what was next. There would be an argument over who bested the other, which typically only ended with one of the others stepping in. Since Anders seemed more intent to get under the elf’s skin by siding with Aaliya and the girls seemed less than interested in whatever was going on, he figured it was his time to step up. He took advantage of a quiet pause between the huffs of frustration, sauntering over as if he hadn’t just been watching the entire scene unfold. “Who’s thirsty? I’m thinking the Hanged Man. Drinks on me. How about it? Broody, Blondie. Dimples.” She rolled her eyes in response to tw nickname but he could see her making an effort to hide a smile. It'd been one glorious day that he'd noticed the dimples in the corners of her mouth, the woman nearly breathless from laughter as he entertained her with a tale about some prince from long ago. He'd immediately decided it was one of his favorite features of hers, and the moniker came soon after.
He turned his attention to Merrill and Isabela who were still wrapped up in a conversation of their own. He thought he could see a glint of something in the pirate’s eye that he would have to ask about later. But there were more pressing matters now, like keeping his shit together while Aaliya shrugged and pulled her grime covered up and off to toss it to the side. “Okay fine, but only because you look desperate for the good company. Just let me go put on something that doesn’t smell like death itself and we can head over, yeah?”
With the others in general agreement upon something for once, they settled into a game of Wicked Grace for the evening. The other tables were taken so they were packed into a smaller one which made the usual cheating that went on all the more an entertaining feat. He was winning, he found to his surprise, given that his mind wasn’t entirely on the task at hand tonight. Not when she was so damn close and kept shooting him that devillish grin of hers that he never grew tired of.
He'd made a point of flirting with one of the barmaids all night, a good looking lass who happened to be a surface dwarf like himself. Whether he was doing so for his own sake or to see their makeshift leader’s reaction he couldn't be sure, but he could think of a lot more unpleasant ways to spend his time. Whatever his motivations, the woman seemed generally amused but mostly uninterested. One thing she had in common with the human object of his affections.
"So you really fancy this one, huh? Or is it the way she's nearly spilling out of her dress? I know that caught my attention." He heard her ask casually, eyes only flickering towards him for a second before returning to her cards. She had an eyebrow raised and he wondered if this was a game tactic. Distract the dwarf with talk of pretty ladies and ample cleavage while she steals his win. It wouldn't be the first time. He sighed, opting to remain quiet as each of the players folded in turn. Everyone except him, Aaliya and....Merrill? Well, that was new. Not that she was an especially bad player- he left that title to Fenris who usually protested the point of all these rules when things weren't going in his favor. But by this point in the game she usually didn't stand much of a chance against a table of unabashed cheaters. He glanced at Isabela, who was usually schooling them all at this point, and saw same glint as earlier. What in the Maker's name was she playing at? He would learn soon enough.
"Let's make this a bit more interesting, shall we?" Isabela challenged the lot of them, eyes glittering with mischief. "I think each round, the losers should have to answer a question from the winner. Any question, the more...personal, the better." There was a general sound of protest around the table, Blondie shifting uncomfortably in his seat as the broody elf scoffed.
Merrill was the first to speak up. "Well, I think it sounds fun. We can- get to know each other better...right?" She looked first as Isabela and then Aaliya for added approval. Varric thought he was beginning to have an idea of what was going on here as he continued to observe his pirate friend, but how she roped sweet Daisy into the scheme was beyond him. He was about to speak when he saw Aaliya shrug. "Okay," she said with an air of nonchalance, but he could almost see her mind reeling on the inside. The first questions were more or less harmless, except for the one that sent Anders on one of his mage rights tirades. Well meant, but perhaps for the wrong audience, time and place. Fenris left not long after that, despite Varric and Aaliya's attempts as always to play negotiator between the two extremes. Eventually, it was just the four of them. Daisy and Rivaini, him and Dimples. They weren't even playing anymore, not really. It'd mostly turned into Isabela interrogating them all and throwing an awful lot of flirtatious lines in the elf's direction that went right over Merrill's head.
"So Hawke, how come you’ve never bunked up with one of your dear companions? All this time, you must’ve at least thought about it no? Please, if you’ve had any carnal fantasies involving me don’t leave anything out.” Isabela shot Aaliya a wink, but Varric noticed she kept glancing in his direction as if to read his mind on the matter. She couldn’t possibly know, could she? He’d kept his harbored feelings wrapped up tighter than the templar commander’s ass, but he knew better than most that very little escaped the notice of the Rivaini. If this was the case and Isabela did know his secret, well, he was screwed. And not in the good way. He decided to concentrate on finishing the drink in his hand as Aaliya began to reply.
“Well Isabela, you may have noticed that things haven’t exactly been slow around here. With everything happening, not to mention all the people who seem to want me dead on a regular basis, there’s no time for-“ But Isabela was already shaking her head.
“My dear sweet Aaliya, you know that’s not what I asked. Excuses! You can be honest here, you’re among friends after all.” That’s when Varric let out a noise despite himself, somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. Suddenly all the eyes at the table were on him. “You have something to add, Varric?” Now would be the time for quick thinking, something he fortunately had a pretty good record with.
“Nah, not at all. Don’t let me interrupt. I was just thinking, this is some great material for the book. That’s the part everyone will want to know, after all. Who really gets the hero of Kirkwall going?” She shot him a retaliatory look and bumped her shoulder to his, another reminder that she was still so close. There was more than enough room to for added space between them now. Why hadn’t he moved? Well, he knew why, but shit, what about her? Had she even noticed? Maker, if Bianca could see him now, she’d surely be laughing to the Fade and back. He wondered if he’d ever been this ridiculous with her, those years ago.
He heard Aaliya sigh dramatically, chest heaving next to him. Why did he have a sudden feeling that he was going to be very sorry for this entire evening? “Okay, fine, you win Isabela. I’ll confess,” she began, pausing to take a long drink from her glass. “It’s Varric. That’s why I haven’t pursued anyone else, all this time…because I only have eyes for this dwarf. It’s always been you, Varric.” She turned to face him now and in a second Varric the storyteller, expert lie weaver couldn’t think of a damn thing to say.
“I uh…Aaliya…”She was looking at him in a way he hadn’t seen before and he was fairly certain this was the closest her face had ever been to his. He found himself taking in her every freckle, the small scar along her eyebrow from a particularly nasty blow suffered last year, those eyes he liked to think he could read better than most. The author inside of him was keenly aware that this was the point in the story when the guy would say something suave and romantic. Or better yet, he would kiss the lady. His mind hung on that thought, just as his gaze moved to her lips. The feeling overtook him all at once, the desire to press his lips to hers once and for all like he’d imagined more times than anyone wanted to know. The others at the table, the serving girl were all but forgotten as he thought of tangling his hand in her hair and moving his lips to meet those dimples he so loved. He let out a long breath, shifting in his seat. Just as he meant to move, he saw something change in her expression. There was a flash of something he couldn’t quite place before she was suddenly laughing. A joke. Of course it was a joke. The real joke was that he’d let himself believe otherwise for a few heavy moments.
“You should have seen your face!” She was saying, the others joining in her laughter. “For a second I thought you might drop dead of shock. Or was it fear? Don’t worry mate, I know we would never work. I’m hardly your type, yeah? A little too human. Really bad at jokes.” She shot him a wink before turning back towards Merrill and Isabela. “Are you happy now?” She asked the other woman, but Varric noticed she turned her attention to him instead when answering. “Oh, I’m thoroughly entertained. Thank you, dearest.”
The moment had passed and his heart rate was finally slowing down, but he couldn’t shake the possibility he’d felt moments prior. He stood then, giving the girls his best lighthearted look. “Well, I for one think I need another drink after that display. Anyone else?” They all agreed to another round and he headed to the bar. For some weird reason, he felt relieved the pretty server wasn’t around and he instead approached the bartender. As he waited, he felt someone approaching from behind and saw that Isabela had joined him at the counter, presumably to ensure their drinks arrived at their destination. But when she spoke he almost dropped them.
“She meant it, you know. The whole ‘it’s always been you’ bit. I can spot a fool in love an ocean away.”