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“Her voice. Parchment. Inspiring a thousand descriptions of … the color of her skin. Do her freckles continue under the white fabric? They do you know, they go all the way to-”
“Thank you, Cole,” Varric’s grip on the crossbow he had been polishing tightened. “That’s more than enough.” Only the Maker knows why that was the question Cole chose to focus on.
“You care for her. But… you won’t say it, not even to yourself. Why? What comes from silence?” Cole was sitting on the sturdy oak table, watching him, his eyes focused on the weapon and yet also on something further. It certainly wasn’t unusual for him to come keep Varric company. Especially not after Varric had helped him see who he really was. Not only a spirit with a mission, but a person. A person who, Varric thought to himself, was much more curious than was comfortable sometimes.
His curiosity, which at the moment had been only fed more by a passing greeting with the inquisitor on her way to confer with Solas only moments before. She did that a lot lately, actually, long conversations with the apostate in his room. Probably to discuss something elfy, to laugh at everyone different from them and- no he wasn’t being fair. That might be Chuckles style but it certainly wasn't their lady Inquisitors. She was more thoughtful than that, more soft.
“He doesn’t see as you see. He sees ears and pride and magic, he sees the fade in her and he hopes it will share itself with him,” Cole continued on even as Varic leveled him a look that would wilt the sturdiest of flowers. Of course Chuckles didn’t see what was right in front of him, he didn’t need to be an empath to know that. He was quick in temper and prideful of his opinions. He preferred to be right over protecting others. Everything Varric saw in the inquisitor he was set to change. His- their inquisitor was soft spoken, kind, putting others before herself even in the small things. She spent hours helping the other members of the inquisition with their duties before ever even considering taking a break for herself. What he didn’t know was why she’d spend so much time with Chuckles. Except, he did know, she’d been open about it from the beginning. She loved to learn. She was always asking questions, digging for truth and delighting in it. How many times had they had to stop on an expedition so that she could pick up books that she had found. How many times had he caught her staying up too late by the fire each night, reading them as quickly as she could. Solas had much to offer her, he supposed, having a shared heritage and love of magic. “What could I offer that she would want. Stones hold no interest for those who climb trees” Cole puzzled out his thoughts, laying them bare and out in the open, as he did.
He rose to his feet, “I’m sorry, kid, we’ll chat later” Without trying to explain further, Varric strode out into the night air, determined to clear his head.
Left alone, Cole watched burning fire, sorting through the emotions pouring from the other side of the oak door. Curiosity, hers. Loneliness, him. A question, her. Attraction, him. A kiss, him. An aching emptiness, why does this feel wrong? Her. Desire, him. Acceptance, her. The rest… well Cole had yet to figure out the logic behind that.
* * * *
It wasn’t until later that week that Varric found himself face to face with the problem Cole seemed to think he had. He was sitting in the tavern, quill in hand, trying to garner inspiration. He would admit, his writing hadn’t been as quick or as witty as he would have liked lately, and observing patrons always set his mind at ease. That was before, of course, the inquisitor herself slid into the seat across from him. He didn’t need to look up to know that her big green eyes, their size impossibly dramatized by the way her orange hair framed her too pale face, were searching him for something. Curiosity was her biggest virtue as well as her greatest fault. Not that he could blame her, she’d hardly met humans before going to the conclave, let alone dwarves oor qunari or pretty much anything else interesting. It had been her and her clan in the wilds. There was so much to learn. Perhaps that was why she had been the first to get along with and accept Cole into their company, they both needed to know more like they needed to breathe. “Inquisitor.”
There was a sigh, like a wind blowing in the leaves of a tree. He could write about that sigh. Maybe he would when this was all over. “How many times have I asked you to call me Rosemary when we’re not on official business.”
“Forgive me, Inquisitor, with a hole in the sky and Corypheus on the loose, it’s hard to tell what is and isn’t official business.”
There was a pause as he could only assume she debated her words. That was what surprised him most about their elf Inquisitor. For a woman who had never left the woods, she had never once been uncivil. Just the opposite, it was as if her manners and poise had come to her as naturally as magic had. Not to stay she was stuffy like Vivienne or occasionally Josephine, she could be incredibly fun, she just did so with an air that reminded him more of a princess in a fairy story. Finally she decided on a subject, “What are you working on?”
“Just something I got inspired to write recently. My editors will be angry it’s not one of the serials but new stories can be refreshing. It’s nothing that would interest your worship, I assure you.”
Another pause, this time out of surprise. He was good at that, saying things to make people back away. “I’ve always loved your stories. Varric… are we alright?”
Were they? Yes, she may be locking mouths with Solas every chance they get but… This was the woman who had sat up all night with him and Hawke, celebrating their survival while simultaneously grieving for the Warden who had been lost. This was the same woman who had single handedly begun hunting down the proper medicinal herbs to plant at Skyhold before the herbalists had even arrived, because the wounded would need them. This was the same woman who had gone against her new lover’s wishes to help him make Cole more human, more himself. So no, he guessed when he thought about it, having a problem with her made no damn sense. And yet… he did. “Look, Rosemary…”
“So you do know how to pronounce my name at least,” She smiled, happy for that much at least. And didn’t that just kill him, that she’d be so satisfied by something so small.
“What are you doing with Solas?” He hadn’t meant to ask that, he really hadn’t. Make a joke about dark taverns, maybe. Questions about the latest expedition, perhaps. Interrogate her about her lover? Not his style. But here they were, the things those eyes made him do.
“W-what?” Pink flushed beneath the freckles on her too pale cheeks. It was a nice color. He wondered if he could make her do it again without saying something quite so stupid next time. “T-that’s what’s bothering you? How much time I spend with Solas?”
“What can I say.” He smirked as convincingly as he could. Never let it be said that he had a bad face for Wicked Grace. “Chuckles is a sensitive guy, I’d hate for you to hurt him with your wicked ways. I know how women can be.”
She didn’t say anything but he saw it flash across her face, the confusion, the hurt at his words. Of course he didn’t believe she’d be cruel, but better that she think him awful than to admit that he was irrationally caught up in her. But she continued to not say anything longer than he was comfortable with. Her eyes fixed on Maryden as she played a hopeful song. Hopeful, like Rosemary’s eyes were always hopeful. Hopeful that they could save the world, that she had made friends, that this was where she was supposed to be. He couldn’t ignore the nagging rock in his gut that told him that yes, he was the reason that hope wasn’t there at the moment. He’d been the one to break the illusion of their friendship. And well… problem or not, he couldn’t have that, he cleared his throat. “Look, have I ever told you about the time Bianca and I…”
And that was it, the moment had passed. She turned back to him, full attention on his words and no more was said about Chuckles.
Up until this point he had had no idea just how much trouble he was in. But as she threw her head back in a laugh over something he’d said, he could no longer deny the heat in his belly or how enticing her slender neck was and how much he’d love to trace it with his lips all the way down under the white scarf she insisted on wearing. Cole had had it right in one way at least. He did notice her.
Those big green eyes met his as her laugh came to an end and the table between them became too much of an obstacle. Without thinking, he stood and grabbed the back of her head pulling her close to crash his lips against hers. Her shocked hum spurned him on, burying his hand in his hair. She tasted like the berries she had had at lunch, sweet and earthy. However it was her hand that settled on his waist that brought him back to reality before he could register that she’d begun to return his kiss. He let go and backed away quickly, cursing at himself as he gathered his papers. “I’m sorry, I uh… shit, Rosemary, I have to go.” With that he fled.
* * * * * *
Weeks passed and battle strategies transitions to talk of nobles and politics and The Game. Varric had spent most of his time avoiding the public areas, or at least he had tried until Josephine had dragged him into the meetings. So the best he could do was avoid eye contact with the Inquisitor and answer every answer with sarcasm. He also tried his best to ignore just how tired she looked or the way her eyes kept seeking him. In two days they would be riding for the Winter Palace with two objectives in mind. Save Celene and win over the nobles. And all of that was going to be on Rosemary’s shoulders. He would be tired too.
On this particular afternoon he was getting a breath of fresh air as Josephine had seen fit to grace them all with an hour to rest before continuing. Maybe it was stupid to decide to do so right outside of the main doors but damnit he wanted to stop and take a breath, so here at the front doors he stood, leaning like an intruder against the large stones.
A door slammed and suddenly it seemed a whole lot more stupid. “Must you insist on bowing to their every whim?” Chuckles voice was tense and at a glance he could see that him and the inquisitor had come out of the war room and were heading straight for Solas’ vestibule. Rosemary looked even more tired than she had a few minutes ago and he could see in her eyes her desperation to lead Solas to privacy quickly, lest she get chewed out in the middle of the hall. Solas, of course, could care less. “You dote on them as if they were children.”
“You do not mean that.” Her voice was quiet, patient as always. “You are upset because I do not agree with you.”
“I am not upset. I am merely concerned that they are taking advantage of your fear. I promise no one will call you knife ear to your face if you wear it. They would not be that bold.” Wear it?
“I chose the uniforms myself, Solas. They are perfectly respectable, and more,they show that we are one front going into this together. Fashion can take a back seat for solidarity.” So reasonable, so sure, so… tired.
“That’s just it, solidarity. Think of what it would mean for the elves, for the Herald of Andraste to walk into the ballroom wearing traditional robes.” That’s what this was about, then? Chuckles wanted another chance to shape the inquisitor into an elven martyr. Smooth.
“I’m wearing the uniform, Solas.”
“You’re being irrational!” Solas’ voice was sharp, digging for a place to latch on. Varric’s fists clenched at the anger in his voice. How dare he speak to her that way, doesn’t he know how lucky he is? He gets to hold her and to take her breath away and to see her face flush with heat. And this is… crap, Varric was in this deeper than he’d thought. And before he could dwell on that, Solas’ voice had gotten even sharper. “Selfish creature, so typically Dalish. Always putting your precious reputation above that of your people.”
Rosemary opened her mouth to defend herself but Varric with his too big mouth beat her to it. And instantly regretted allowing them to know he’d been eavesdropping. “Damnit, Chuckles, the woman said no. Get your head out of your ass, I’m sure Green’ll look beautiful in her uniform and elven culture won’t be rolling in it’s grave.”
Solas’ eyes turned on him, their sharp predatory stare boring into him. He knew he was supposed to run, but he’d never been one to see the red flags. “I fail to see what business it is of yours, Master Tethras.”
Rosemary watched him, annoyed and a tiny bit confused. That didn’t stop him from continuing to make an ass of himself, naturally. “I’ll tell you what business it is of mine, stuffy.”
Her eyes narrowed for only a moment before a too-polite smile. “You know, I think you may have a point, Solas. I’ll wear the robes.” And with that she walked right back into the war room and left the two men alone.
“Well, Master Tethras. That was well played. I suppose I should thank you.” Solas bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“I wasn’t trying to help you, Chuckles.” Varric glared at him before heading toward the tavern to skip the rest of the meetings this afternoon. “I was on her side.”
* * * * * *
In the end, she wore the uniform. Solas kept his distance from her the entire night and she made no move to seek him out, something Varric was pretending he didn’t enjoy. What he really didn’t enjoy was the way Rosemary had met his eyes and begun walking the other way the one time he himself had tried to approach her, to apologize for… this weird between them. It was just going to have to stay wierd. And before he knew it, there were dances with the duchess, murder, and a whole boatload of crazy to sort through. From where he now stood at the edge of the ballroom, surveying the party for suspicious activity, he saw Cullen approach the Inquisitor. As they talked, faces tense, he reached for the crossbow he had tucked behind the nearest flowerpot when he reentered the room. You know, just in case. However, instead of a signal to take down the duchess, Rosemary stepped away from the commander and walked across the dancefloor, drawing all eyes on her. Her poise and charm hadn’t been a figment of his admittedly romantic imagination. In a single evening she had made a whole ballroom of people who were set to tear her down, fall in love with her, and that could be used to her advantage. He watched as she called out the Duchess on her crimes and as she escorted the three rivals out onto the balcony. And then an awkward pause while the world waited.
From behind him, a disapproving voice drew closer. “What would dwarf want with the attentions of an elf, I might wonder? Is it her power? Her beauty? Her fame? Do you believe her reputation could improve book sales so much that you would be willing to ruin something that might benefit her?”
“Always good to talk to you, Chuckles.” Varric’s teeth grit. “And what exactly is it that could be benefiting her so much?”
“Do not pretend to be oblivious to the connection between us, Master Tethras.” Varric’s eyes rolled. Their connection, right. “She has so much promise, so much respect for the ways of the past. I have much to impart on her, if she would only be willing to set ridiculous notions aside.”
“Let me tell you something about her promise, Chuckles.” Varric growled, turning to look at him and his ridiculous helmet for the first time since this unwelcome conversation began. “That woman you seem so intent on changing into some kind of puppet of elven glory is more than the mark on her hand and the pair of ears on her head. Maker, she’s more than people’s opinions of her and she’s more than all of the thought out words she speaks. She’s warm and friendly and stubborn when she needs to be. Her hands are soft but her fingers are calloused from all of the times she’s grabbed her staff too tight out of fear. She loves to read but doesn’t know that she reads out loud. How many nights have we fallen asleep to the history of some temple because we didn’t want to tell her in case she stopped? Damnit, Chuckles, stop trying to turn her into someone she isn’t before we lose the one beautiful thing this inquisition has.”
They stared at each other for a moment before Solas sneered a bit. “You have ignored the most important question.”
He sighed. “And what’s that?”
“What do you think someone like her would ever see in a dwarf and a scoundrel?” And with that he was alone with his thoughts again. And damn it, Solas was right.
* * * * * *
He stood outside the balcony, having seen her leave the party quickly after the speeches. There had been a plan. Follow her, corner her in a good mood, apologize for whatever stupid thing she was mad for, and convince her that Solas wasn’t worthy of her. Simple, straightforward, fucked. Plans, however, rarely ever work out as… haha, as planned. Solas had clearly had a similar idea as he had beaten him to her, leaning on the railing and doing his best to be what Varric assumed was his idea of charming. He should have turned around and left, joining Sera and the Iron Bull where the drink was strongest, but he’s never been the smartest sort and he seemed to have a thing for pain. So instead he listened.
“It’s been a very long day” Understatement of the year. He had seen full battles take less out of a person than The Game did tonight.
“For everyone I’d imagine.” For everyone? Solas spent more time standing in a corner judging people than being involved. What would he know? “It’s nearly over now. Cullen’s given the men their marching orders as we speak.”
There was a pause and Varric thought rather hopefully that Solas had departed another direction, that he could still have time to tell her… he didn’t know, something. Solas dashed that hope quickly. “Come. Before the band stops playing, dance with me.”
Varric turned to leave, he didn’t need to see this. “Can I have a moment alone? I need to clear my head.” He stopped. She said no?
“Of course. I’ll wait for you.” Solas stormed back into the ballroom and to somewhere unknown, clearly unused to rejection. In his rush he didn’t even notice Varric in the shadows, probably for the best after their last talk. Varric straightened, pulling the too tight uniform into position. This might just get him in trouble. Clearly the woman wanted space. But he was not going to let an opportunity like this pass him by. Not tonight. Who knew what was going to happen when they got back to Skyhold.
The night air was crisp and jarring as he stepped from the warm palace onto the balcony. With not even a slight breeze it seemed as if the world was standing as still as the stonework that supported the weight of the lady Inquisitor at the moment. Oh Andraste, where to start? “That cluster of stars to the left, they form a boat. There’s a pretty wild story about that constellation.”
A moment passed and he begun to believe she might just ignore him. “You’ll have to tell it sometime. When I’m in a better mood that is.”
He heard the dismissal, but leaned on the balcony next to her anyway. “You know, the uniform suits you. I wasn’t sure about the red. But it’s a bold choice, I like bold choices.”
“... Did you mean what you said to Solas?” Her skin flushed sheepishly. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, Dorian told me before I came out here. Apparently Solas was fuming.”
“What isn’t Solas fuming about these days?” His reply had the desire effect, for the first time in days he heard a genuine laugh from her.
“He’s not a bad guy.” She rebuked him, albeit lightly. “He knows so much, you know, about old temples and about the fade. Oh, and he’s got this dry humor. It sneaks up on you. Not to-”
Varric chuckled and set his hand on top of hers on the railing to silence her. “I don’t need to hear you sing his praises, Rosemary. I’m likely to lose my lunch.”
“Why?” Her head tilted a little, like a Marbari hearing something it didn’t quite recognize. “I’m simply saying that I don’t see how you two couldn’t be friends if you both wanted to be.”
His eyes stared at the stone, not quite sure how to break it to her. “We, uh, seek a common prize, as it turns out. Competition’s not the greatest foundation for friendship.”
The gloves she wore for the evening came off, her fingers massaging the mark. He wondered if it ever hurt. It would have to, wouldn’t it, something that powerful. “I don’t understand, Solas isn’t selfish, not really. If it’s an elven artifact you’re after, I’m sure he’d be more than happy to-”
“Damn it, Rosemary, do you really not know how I feel about you? I tried to shove my tongue down your throat for Andraste’s sake! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.” Okay, that was not one of the things he’d prepared to say. Nice going. Once again, his mouth ran before his brain.
“You don’t have to remind me” The look she gave him bore into him and he would have swore she could see his soul. “Many a mistake’s been made in that tavern, Varric, I wasn’t going to hold it against you.”
“A mistake?” He shook his head, he would never pretend to understand women, never. “I need to make mistakes like that more often.”
“You don’t have to pretend. I’ll be alright if it wasn’t to your taste. And I don’t know about your culture, but in mine, a man that runs that fast from a moment like that has definitely decided whether or not it's to his taste.” Her eyes dropped to watch the patterns on the floor beneath them. And it made sense, suddenly, her avoidance and how quick she’d been to take Solas’ side the other day. It wasn’t that she had been angered by him kissing her, she genuinely believed he regretted it. She was giving him space.
Never let it be said he didn’t fully support his own decisions. “That’s just it though, I had decided.”
“I know. You… you called me Green the other day.” She glanced at her hand then back to the floor. “That’s when I knew. Even when you barely knew me… to refer to me by this… this thing. Well, that was never your style, was it. I can only imagine you meant it to put distance between us.”
Whether or not he could ever blink again as he stared at the Inquisitor was yet to be seen. “I wasn’t even thinking about the mark.” Her face told him she didn’t believe him and why would she. He slid closer, his arm reaching to the balcony on the other side of her. As he had hoped, the movement had caused his curious lady to turn, facing him head on. If he heard the intake of breath as she realized their closeness, which of course he did, he wasn’t going to let her know about it. “Rosemary…” His voice was low, he didn’t want to draw unnecessary eavesdroppers if they passed by. Not when he’d gotten her here. “Do you think I could go a day without wondering at just how green your eyes are? They’re everything a writer would hope to capture in words, these big sad emeralds that soak up information and reflect back everything I see in you. How am I supposed to be able to resist?”
“Varric…” Her breath was warm on his face and he wondered if she knew that she was leaning closer ever so slightly. Their lips only mere inches apart. “I-I…”
A throat cleared behind them and Varric turned his head to glare at the inquisition scout he could only imagine Cullen had sent for them. “Sir, the Inquisition is ready to return to Skyhold.”
“Thank you, Jim.” the Inquisitor replied, almost out of breath. “We’ll be there in a moment.”
Varric looked at her, watched her push a lock of hair behind her ear, and shook his head. “Solas is waiting for you.” With that he headed back into the ballroom and kept walking until he got to the stables. Damn if that didn’t go exactly as he planned and also nothing like he’d actually planned.
* * * * * *
The next time he saw Rosemary, he still isn’t quite sure what happened. He’d been by the fire, once again polishing Bianca and talking to Cole about… something. A thin hand grabbed him and pulled him along into a stairway. Lips on his interrupted the loud swearing that had spouted at his surprise. The familiar taste rushed back to him and he reached for the Inquisitor’s hips and pulled her closer, willing this ambush to never end. When their oxygen supply finally ran out, the inquisitor pulled away, once again out of breath and practically glowing even in the shadows of the dark stairwell. She had apparently thought ahead as the stairs had afforded them the chance to be on more level ground. … She had thought ahead. She had sought him out for this kiss. Which, he wasn’t complaining, it was great, but, “Should I be worried about Chuckles turning me into a human popsicle?”
“Why would Solas care?” Her fingers were absently running across his scalp, causing goosebumps to rise on his skin.
He took her hands, willing his senses to register with his brain so he could think straight. “If this is how you kiss, I can’t see him sharing. Can you?”
She blinked at him. He watched her. No one made a move as she processed this. “Solas… doesn’t share me. I’m not with Solas.”
“We all know, Rosemary. One of the maids heard you discuss it in the vestibule. There’s no need to pretend.”
“I…” She chewed her lip and he couldn’t help but be drawn to watching it. “I did kiss Solas… in the Fade, it seemed like what I was supposed to do. You know, both of us elves and we got along so well.”
“I don’t need a reminder.” He really didn’t.
“But.. that’s just it.” Her shoulders shrugged. “He tried to kiss me a couple weeks ago. It didn’t feel right, I told him so later. There was just no… connection. Not like- well,” Her cheeks became redder than her hair and he tried to capture it in his mind to put down on paper later. “That was the same day we talked in the tavern, now that I think about it.”
“You’re not with Chuckles. But you’re in there all the time. You come out with your hair all mussed.”
“Have you ever actually listened to one of his lectures?” Her small sheepish smile was almost masked by shadow. “He certainly doesn’t have the same knack for storytelling you do, and his couch is comfortable. It’s so easy to fall asleep.”
He just watched her, taking in all this new information. When he didn’t speak, she freed her hands and curiously ran her fingers through his chest hair, voice soft. “I didn’t want to say this in our meetings, but I almost regretted the formal uniform.”
“Why?” He shivered, watching her eyes darken to a green he’d only seen in the forest once.
“It covered up this beautiful chest. I’ve always wondered what it felt like” Her smile turned into a smirk that went straight to his loins. The minx and her curiosity could possibly be the death of him. The ability to resist was long since gone. His hands tugged at her hips once more, bringing them against him as his lips sought hers. Leaving one hand to play with his chest hair, she threw the other around his neck and returned his kiss hungrily. Both of them had waited for far too long.
Cole sat on the table once again and had picked up Bianca. Slowly he began to polish it, a secret smile on his face. Curiosity, hers, always hers. Relief, his. Attraction, both. Affection, both. Love… like a match, ready to spark at the next brush. Fullness, rightness, her. The rest, well Cole wasn’t completely naive, he didn’t need to listen in to that. But in the stairwell?