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“Hawke, if you don’t get your ass out of that four-poster I’m going to have to come in there and get you,” Varric called from her bedroom door. Carver, yawning and stretching behind him, flinched at his raised voice.
“If she makes us late, I’ll never forgive her,” he grumbled, avoiding the disapproving look from his mother across the room.
Gamlen’s small home- if anyone would call it that- felt crowded and Varric couldn’t wait to get out of the space. It was odd that Hawke was sleeping so late; she was usually the one waking him up at the tavern.
“C’mon Hawke, we don’t have all day!”
“I’ll go get her; you two step outside, you’ll wake the whole neighborhood with your shouting,” Leandra shooed them away from the door and went in.
With a shrug, Carver turned and headed out the door with Varric trailing behind.
“She’s not usually like this. Any idea what’s going on, Junior?”
The young man seemed to have his eyes focused down into the center square, and didn’t muster up more than his shoulders in response.
Behind them the door slammed open and Hawke walked out, perhaps leaning more on her staff but looking no worse for wear.
“Had to be today, didn’t it? Let’s go before I change my mind about this whole deal,” Hawke growled under her breath, not meeting Varric’s curious glance as she walked by and led the way to the meet up. Leandra followed beside Carver, having a quiet conversation that her son didn’t seem to be paying much attention to.
It had been a long few months of gathering money and resources for Bartrand’s expedition and it was finally time to be underway. Varric had gotten to know Hawke pretty well, all things considered. She was sarcastic, street smart, and a little reckless with all that illegal magic, but a wonderful partner for this expedition no matter Bartrand’s doubts.
Varric had his own reservations about the jealous little brother, but he didn’t have any interest in arguing with Hawke about him; he was useful enough when it came to fighting, even if he did bitch and moan the whole time.
They’d gathered quite a motley crew of interesting characters, but not all of them could join for this. Bartrand would have a fit. But they were all going to be there to support Hawke.
Varric wasn’t sure what it was but Hawke pulled out a natural loyalty in the people around her, even with the scathing remarks and seeming inability to take most conversations seriously. How she managed to wrangle an angsty ex-slave and that overly serious alpha city guard were mysteries, along with the other questionable apostates.
All of them were waiting with Bartrand, who was grumbling about the crowd and possible unwanted attention it would bring.
“Hurry up and figure out who you’re bringing, human. We’re not waiting until nightfall for this,” Bartrand barked, turning his attention to counting coins and directing his men to prep. He makes a passing glance at Varric, and there was a begrudging understanding between them.
Leandra pulled gently on Hawke’s elbow, trying to keep her voice low but Varric was right there to hear what she was saying anyway.
“Leave Carver here, dear. You can handle yourself…even right now. We know that. I couldn’t stand to lose you both if things were to go wrong. If he’s here where I can keep an eye on him…” Her voice tailed off as she saw Varric’s eyes on them. “Please. I can’t imagine losing either of you now, not after Bethany.”
Hawke seemed to be considering, but her face wasn’t giving much of her thoughts away.
“Whose coming with us, Hawke?” Varric pressed, bringing everyone’s attention back to the mage.
Carver stood very close to his sister, as though it wasn’t even a question that he would be coming. And Varric agreed with him, right up until Hawke spoke.
“Anders and Aveline, if you’re both willing.”
“WHAT?!” Carver’s shout was mostly full of shock and anger, but Varric prided himself on knowing people well. And there was something else in his eyes when he looked at Hawke; concern. “That’s not wise.”
“Aveline can handle a sword as well as you can, and Anders has dealt with darkspawn before- his experience will be invaluable.”
Hawke didn’t shrink from her brother, if anything standing straighter and putting no weight on her staff. Carver looked for a moment like he might put a hand on her, pull at her or shove her, but seemed to think better of it. Instead he got close and whispered something to her, before walking away like a stamping child with Leandra muttering platitudes in his wake.
Hawke didn’t turn to watch him go.
“I’ll be around the manor when you get back,” Fenris grumbled.
“And I will be in the alienage. Be careful, Hawke,” Merrill said with her placid smile. She gave Varric a wave as the two elves turned to head back the way they’d come.
Aveline shouldered her pack and shield, already prepped to go. Behind her, looking much more reluctant, was Anders. But regardless, both of them fell into step behind Varric and Hawke as they joined the greater expedition party making the journey towards the Deep Roads.
In the quiet hours of travel, Varric watched his partner closely. She seemed normal, apart from some dark rings under her eyes. She was walking steadily, conversing with her usual ease and, on the couple times the expedition came across an attempted highway robber or dangerous wildlife, was no less deadly in combat.
But something tickled at the back of his neck and his eyes kept flicking over to her.
“Varric, if you don’t stop hovering like a mother hen, I’m going to lose my mind,” Hawke laughed, giving him one of her trademark smirks.
“A mother hen doesn’t watch to make sure her chicks can enter dangerous tunnels full of darkspawn. She’s more concerned with the running of the hen house and laying of eggs.”
“Ah, then a nursemaid. I’ll get it right next time,” she laughed, and her smile eased some of his concern.
They finally arrived at the entrance, entering the underground passages just before noon. The air was stale and warm, carrying the smell of decay and dusty stone passageways. While many of the expedition dwarves breathed a sigh of relief, Varric could feel tension in his shoulders getting worse the further they got from the light of day.
“You two have faces as sour as the ale at the Hanged Man,” Aveline remarked, looking pointedly at Anders and Varric.
“Maybe that’s because we’re in the Deep Roads. Y’know, these tunnels full of treachery and flesh rending darkspawn?” Anders said with a glower. “I would not be back here if I had a choice.”
“You did have a choice, Blondie,” Varric chuckled. “It’s not Hawke’s fault you don’t know how to tell her no. I have to be here to watch my brother so he doesn’t get his ass handed to him.”
“But shouldn’t you be right at home here, son of the Stone and all?” Anders asked, managing not to look put out by Varric’s teasing remark.
“I was born on the surface, but I can feel myself getting dwarfier by the minute. Has the beard grown in yet?”
He got one of Aveline’s rare laughs with that and an appreciative smile from Hawke for it, and they were able to pass the first leg of the trip into the roads with more good cheer than before.
Bartrand didn’t stop the expedition to rest until they came to a fork in the roads and had started to see ruins of the old traveling roads between the Thaigs. A few scouts had started looking for their anticipated paths, while Varric took his rest beside Hawke.
“Feeling good so far?” She asked, her piercing eyes taking in his condition. He wondered sometimes if she was as observant as he was, before dismissing it. She’d be better behaved if that was the case.
“Well, I won’t be sorry when we’re done with these damn tunnels and get back out into the sun, but other than that, just peachy. What about you?”
“I’m fine. I don’t know how I feel about staying here at the crossroads though; too open.”
“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that.” He pointed towards the pair of scouts jogging back to Bartrand and the urgent conversation they were having. It became increasingly obvious that something had gone, predictably, wrong.
“Varric! Get your ass over here. And bring your humans with you.”
“What are we, his pets?” Anders said, getting a light elbow from Aveline. Hawke stood and walked side-by-side with Varric as they approached an irate Bartrand.
“The route we were going to take is blocked off. We’ll have to scout out another way; think you all can handle a section yourselves?”
“What do you take me for? Of course we can handle it. Right, Hawke?”
“You don’t even have to ask. Though I wouldn’t mind taking an extra share if you’re offering?”
Bartrand gave them a scowl before pointing towards a side passage dug into the rock but not carved out like the crossroads. “That way. I expect you back in a few hours; the trek is long enough as is.”
Ever the intrepid adventurers, Hawke and Varric led the way further into the depths.
They came back some hours later, a little more worse for wear, but with an open path that seemed to be heading in the direction of the mysterious thaig Bartrand wanted to get to. Despite that good news, they couldn’t really travel ahead until they’d all had some serious rest now that they knew the roads were crawling with darkspawn.
Varric eyed Hawke as she rested, a fitful scene of tossing and turning, but never waking. He’d seen her drink something from her pack, something that had knocked her out into the sleep she now waded through.
She’d asked not to be on watch this go round and now he had some idea why. Beside him, leaning against the crumbling ruins of the walkpath wall, Aveline steadily sharpened her sword and cleaned her shield of the flecks of black darkspawn blood- goop? Innards? Slime? It seemed too thick to be blood.
“You were a bulkhead in the storm today; you always fight like that, even when your husband was around?” he asked conversationally, looking away from Hawke.
“Especially when he was around,” Aveline said, a small smile gracing her features. “I loved to impress him. And the protective instincts kicked in pretty hard if he was at any kind of risk.”
She was so level-headed usually that Varric sometimes forgot that she was an alpha. Human’s weird secondary gender thing wasn’t something he knew a ton about. Most of them were just like dwarves or elves, “betas” as the humans dubbed it. True secondaries were more rare, though alphas were a pretty common sight in Kirkwall.
“He wasn’t an alpha too? I thought you said he was a templar.”
“He was a templar. Betas aren’t unheard of in their order, just perhaps not preferred. Something about alphas being magically resistant? He never shared the specifics.” She shrugged, putting her polished shield to the side. “It still hurts like hell to be hit with a spell, so I’m not sure how much I believe all that.”
“Actually, there is something to it,” Anders grunted, sitting up out of his bedroll to join them. “The circle and the wardens sometimes talked about it. Secondaries are next to impossible in mages; I don’t think I’ve ever met another mage that actually presented anything other than beta.”
“And Andraste knows they’d never let an omega in their ranks,” Aveline muttered, her brows knit together.
“Why not?” Varric asked, turning a piece of rubble over in his hands. “You were just saying secondaries, plural, were magically resistant, Blondie.”
Anders laughed and shook his head. “Probably, but you don’t see unmated, presented omegas in society much. Or mated ones, just omegas in general. Though there aren’t many around anyways; Hawke’s mother is the first I’ve seen among the refugees apart from a young man who got pulled into a mating on the way over from Ferelden.”
“She’s lucky Carver is around,” Aveline said, though her lip curled slightly to talk about Junior. “If he wasn’t there, they’d marry her off for the paperwork alone. Gamlen’s beta and couldn’t make any familial claim of responsibility.”
Growing up on the surface, Varric was at least vaguely aware of human gender status in Thedas. He didn’t know the specifics, but there were laws in place about the regulation of unmated omegas. First with their families or under a pack’s protection, then under a mate’s, but never unto themselves. A lot of the legislation had wording that implied an omega was a danger to themselves or others without someone else to take the lead- not too dissimilar from mages actually, when he thought about it.
“Hawke’s beta too?”
“As far as I can tell,” Aveline grunted, taking a deep breath of the air around her. “It is odd though. Everyone has a scent, even Anders.”
The mage nodded in agreement before Aveline continued.
“But Hawke’s is…absent. She doesn’t really smell like anything.”
“Apart from sweat and darkspawn ichor at the moment,” Anders laughed. “It’s not unheard of for betas to have very faint scents though.”
“Not like you when you get all growly, Red. Even I can smell that burnt oak and scorched earth odor,” Varric remarked despite Aveline’s annoyed grimace.
Another groan from the restlessly sleeping form of Hawke caused them to bring their voices back down.
“You two can get some rest. I’ll take this next watch,” Anders whispered, moving to take over Aveline’s spot. Aveline nodded before getting up to find a spot for her bedroll.
“I’ll just sleep here, if it’s all the same to you,” Varric said, leaning his head back against the rock wall. “Wake me if you need anything.”
It was some hours later, as far as Varric could tell in the unchanging underground light, when Hawke shook him awake. The whole expedition was packed up and taking off down the tunnel they’d scouted and cleared yesterday.
A much quieter trek than before, they ate some of their rations as they walked, eyes and ears peeled for any trouble. Bartrand had insisted it would be a week, one way, to the thaig and had even tried to account for setbacks and darkspawn. Varric thought his brother might be thinking too little of the dangers on this trip.
Still, eventually they made it to the thaig; a dark and crumbling series of tunnels and doors that would take time to explore. The expedition made camp near the entry point to defend from any darkspawn coming from that direction, and Hawke led her crew in exploring at Bartrand’s request.
“Just finding this place has to be worth something,” Aveline said ponderously, shifting her shield on her back. “But the chests of goods and artifacts are a nice bonus.”
“If this gives even half what you promised Varric, I’ll finally be set to get out of uncle Gamlen’s place. Not to shit on his kindness, but…well, there isn’t a lot of kindness now is there?” Hawke paused to peer into a small archway. “But getting mother out from under his thumb would almost make this all worth it.”
Over the last few days, she’d grown more haggard. Those dark rings Varric had noticed were becoming bags beneath her eyes, and she wouldn’t say anything other than “fine” when anyone asked how she was feeling. Which they couldn’t really dispute when she continued to pull her weight and fought like a force of nature. Better to leave her ire for the darkspawn and deepstalkers.
“Solidifying bonds forged in adventure isn’t enough for you?” Varric chuckled, continuing down the passageway towards an opening. The path became a large antechamber with a few doors inset into the stone.
“I’ll have all of you know that I’m a delight to be around, so that must be worth something,” Anders chimed in, joining them again from a small sideroom. “Though I’ll tack these on just in case.” He handed a few pieces of jewelry and precious stones to Hawke to add to their collection.
Hawke led them towards the far wall and the heavy stone door of the central room. “Best start with the money maker- Aveline, if you would?”
She stood aside to let the warrior through, and with a bit of force and some of Varric’s grease they had the door swinging inward. Stepping in, the party saw a large chamber with a stairwell up to a pedestal.
“Well this looks promising,” Anders hummed, immediately heading for the steps on Hawke’s heels. “There’s something…don’t you feel it?”
“Mhm,” Hawke hummed, nodding. “Like a crackle in the air.”
The group approached the raised dais and Varric got a look at the item resting atop it. It was a carved statuette, glistening in the dim light with a menacing red glow. What exactly it was a carving of, he couldn’t name, but he felt his excitement rise as he got a better look at the material the statue was made of.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”
“Is that…lyrium?” Hawke asked, wariness creeping into her tone.
“It’s definitely magic. And not the good kind,” Anders muttered, taking a step back from the altar.
“Doesn’t look like any kind of lyrium I’ve ever seen.” Varric peered at the carved stone. It’s properties looked just like lyrium, and the crackle on the air Hawke mentioned certainly reminded him of the powerful, mana imbued stone. But why was it red?
Footsteps behind them had the party turning to see Bartrand at the entryway.
“Perfect timing! Look at this Bartrand; an idol made out of pure lyrium, I think. Could be worth a fortune!” Varric called down to his brother. He was expecting more surprise or excitement but Bartrand only whistled and said, “You could be right. Excellent find.”
Hawke lifted the idol off the platform bare-handed, much to Anders' chagrin if the wince was anything to go by. Varric saw Hawke stiffen for a moment after her fingertips first touched the statue, before she quickly handed it off to him.
“Not bad. We’ll take a look around, see if we can find anything further in,” he said, tossing the idol down to his brother in one fluid motion.
“I think…I think I might need a moment,” Hawke said, her voice sounding quiet and strangled. She was suddenly leaning very hard against her staff, bringing Varric’s attention away from his brother.
“Woah, you alright?”
“Yeah, I think so…just need a moment to-”
“Wait, the door!” Aveline cried, moving to sprint down the steps. Bartrand had just exited the room, the door beginning to swing shut behind him.
Varric and Anders were running down now too, trying to catch it before the heavy door latched into place. It shut with a loud, ominous finality just as they reached it.
“Bartrand? Bartrand, it’s shut behind you!” Varric shouted, trying to make sure his voice could be heard through the thick stone.
Aveline was pounding and pushing on the door, but the thing could only open inwards; without a handle on this side, there was no way for them to open it.
“You always did notice everything Varric,” Bartrand’s voice chuckled from the other side. There was a menacing edge to it, and dread snuck into Varric’s stomach.
“Are you joking? You’re going to screw over your own brother for some lousy idol?!”
“It’s not just the idol! The location of this thaig alone is worth a fortune, and I’m not splitting that three ways!” There was a malicious glee to his voice. “Sorry, brother.”
“That asshole,” Aveline hissed.
“Bartrand? Bartrand! Get back here, you nug-humping ass!” There was no response to Varric’s cries. He kicked the door and almost immediately regretted it as his toe came in contact with the unyielding stone. “Oh I swear, I will find that son of a bitch- sorry, mother- and I will kill him,” he growled through the pain.
“That will have to wait,” Anders called from the top of the steps, supporting a Hawke that was leaning very heavily against him. “Something’s wrong.”
“More wrong than being betrayed by my only brother?”
“There has to be another way out, but I don’t think I can drag her,” Aveline said as she climbed back up to help Anders get Hawke seated, her back against the platform that had held the idol. “What happened to her?”
“I’m…it’s fine…just go, find a way out,” Hawke muttered, eyes fluttering and breath coming in ragged gasps. “Come…back for me…though.”
The attempt at humor in her breathless voice grounded Varric. He’d have to deal with Bartrand later; first, he needed to take care of Hawke and get them all out of here. Kneeling down beside her, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. Where only a few minutes before she had been in perfectly fine health, now there was sweat quickly beading on her scorching brow.
“Okay, we need to split up. You two- go find a way out of here, starting with that back door there,” Varric instructed, pointing to a smaller inlaid door behind the altar and off to the left. “Then come back once you’ve cleared the way. I’ll stay here with Hawke, see if I can’t get her moving.”
“Are you sure? I can probably find out what’s wrong and heal her.” Anders' worry was slipping into his tone.
“No, you’re the warden, you know the deep roads. And you’ll need Aveline’s muscle to get out I imagine. I need a minute to cool my head anyways; I can keep an eye on her.” Varric was seeing the truth in his own words as he spoke them. Truly, he wanted to go tearing ahead and find the fastest route to getting to his conniving brother, but that wouldn’t help anyone right now.
“That’ll work. Alright Anders, let’s go.” Aveline took the instruction in stride, the only hint of her concern being the furrowed brows she had when she graced Hawke with a quick once over. “We’ll be quick.” She led Anders out the back door and away, leaving Varric alone with the groaning Hawke.
“Alright, tell me what happened,” he insisted, taking the staff from her hands. She put up no fight, her head leaned back against the stone altar. When their eyes met, her pupils were blown so wide he couldn’t see the blue of her irises.
“The idol…fucked up my wards…Adraste’s tits, it burns…” she cursed, hands clenching and unclenching at her sides. “Need…potion, out of my pack.”
“First, let’s get you out of your armor. This heavy stuff is probably adding to the fever,” he reasoned, reaching forward to remove the metal lined mantle that encircled the base of her neck and shoulders.
“Wait, don’t-!”
As soon as the mantle was free of her chest, a sickeningly sweet scent filled the air, almost making Varric cough with its strength. It was floral, like a meadow blooming on a dewy spring morning, shot through with something like cinnamon.
“Fuck…” Hawke released the edge of the mantle which she had tried to grab at.
“That’s a potent perfume you’re wearing. I would not have taken you for the flowers type,” Varric grunted, waving his hand to try and clear the air. “No judgement. Smells nice, just bloody strong.”
She giggled. Giggled. Hawke doesn’t giggle. His stunned pause resulted in her sliding further down on her side.
“Um…did it help any..?” He gingerly touched her shoulders, trying to help her sit back up. Her skin was still hot to the touch and she hissed when his fingers gripped around her shoulders.
“No. No, it didn’t,” she whispered. It sounded like it was almost difficult to speak. One of her hands came up and gripped his wrist, her slender fingers only wrapping part of the way around. “I need…you to do something for me. Please.”
He didn’t know what it was about it but the way she said please, breathy and soft and surrounded in this palpably effeminate scent, sent a shockwave from his hands up his arms and down his spine. Something was…wrong.
“You…that’s not perfume, is it?”
She smiled at him, a touch of her normal self in the exasperated air of it. “Don’t. I’m not going..let’s just take this slow, okay?” After he nodded, she brought her free hand up to take his other hand, lacing her fingers through his and gripping them tightly. “Lay me down. Then get into my pack….look for a small vial. Green label, can’t miss it.”
Each word clearly took effort and her eyes were becoming more unfocused. “But…don’t let me go.”
These last words were almost a whine, a decidedly odd sound in Varric’s ears that resulted in a tight feeling in his pants. This is NOT the time, Varric.
Her pack was on her hip, and he slowly guided her by the hand and shoulder until her back was on the ground. A second afterwards he would wonder why he did it, but he sidled up beside her and set himself up to have her head in his lap.
She let go of his wrist, but her other hand remained firmly entwined with his. Her eyes were staring up at him now, those pupils giving him the impression of a hungry predator.
He stared back, taking in her flushed cheeks, short black hair shiny with sweat, and lips delicately parted with those shallow breaths. It took a lot more will than he was expecting to not lean down and catch those lips with his own.
Instead, he reached over her side and grabbed her pack. The contents jangled in the bag as he freed it from her belt and brought it close enough to dig through. All the while, Hawke’s free arm was snaking around his waist and she was turning on her side, nose pressing into his shirt and her breath warming his skin.
“Hawke, that’s a little…distracting,” he grunted, fingers closing around a small vial. When he pulled it free of the pack he was rewarded with a green label. The small bottle looked familiar; he realized he’d seen her drink from similar ones throughout the trip, before she would lay down to rest.
Just as he was taking a breath, her fingers slid beneath his shirt and pressed against his bare back. They were searching, eager, stuttering between feather light and demanding. It was familiar and too much and delicious and if he didn’t stop her now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to.
“Hawke, stop. Look at me.” He winced at his own voice, which had come out gruff and commanding.
She froze, fingers hovering just off his skin, and turned her head to look up at his face. The focus was tentative, but there, a hint of iris taking him in.
“I found your potion. I’m going to help you sit up enough to drink it.” He enunciated each word clear and slow, making sure she heard him. It took a second but she wet her lips and then nodded, her arm slackening from around his waist.
He released the hand that had been held tight in hers and put that arm beneath her upper back, gently raising her up. She was almost boneless at this point, though her freed hand seemed to search for his lost touch for a few moments.
Holding her steady, he poured the concoction into her mouth and kept her upright as she swallowed. Setting the empty vial down and wrapping both arms around her, he held her so she could lean against his chest, her head on his shoulder.
“Deep breaths.” You and me both.
Hawke followed his instructions, her nose grazing his clavicle as she took a deep breath in, releasing it in a pleased sigh. They stayed like that with her breaths tickling his chest and neck for a few minutes as the potion seemed to do its work.
“I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.” Hawke’s voice sounded clear, if a little shaken, when she finally spoke. “Bad timing, I think.”
“I’m not exactly sure what ‘that’ was still, Hawke.”
“Care to make a guess, dwarf?”
The humor sneaking back into her voice helped Varric feel another step closer to normal, you know, even while still holding her this close. I’m going to end up dreaming about this, fuck.
“I’ve never met an omega quite like this before.” He didn’t miss the way she shivered when the word fell out of his mouth. “All the ones I’ve met are more like your mother- scratch that, the only ones I know for sure that I’ve met are literally your mother and an Orlesian noblewoman some nobleman in Kirkwall married. And Blondie said something about mages not really having secondaries…”
“Rarely. But not impossible. I got the worst of both my parents,” she laughed, the sound small and bitter. She sat up a little more, nuzzling into his neck and breathing deeper. “Sorry. It’s helping.”
“It’s alright.” It wasn’t, it really wasn’t, but he couldn’t tell her that. Talking seemed to help them both, so he kept going. “I thought you- er, omegas, needed a mate around to handle things?”
“If you believe the alphas in charge, yeah,” she sighed.
“Maybe we could tell Aveline and she-”
“No!” Hawke gripped him suddenly, an arm around his back and wide eyes holding him in place. “You can’t tell anyone. Promise me you won’t tell anyone.”
“Woah, okay, shhh…” A desperate desire to comfort her had him pressing a palm to her cheek, sliding across her skin until he had his fingers pressed into the back of her neck, the edges of her hair grazing his knuckles. “I promise, I won’t say a word.”
She was staring at him, pupils almost back to normal, the blue in her eyes a stark contrast. Then she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, a shuddering breath exiting her lungs.
“Thank you.”
Varric lost track of how long they sat like that, holding each other in the silence of an empty thaig treasure room. At some point, she’d fallen asleep and he’d transitioned to having her laying down again with his thigh as her pillow. He slipped her mantle back on as she slept deeply and the moment it was back around her shoulders, the floral scent faded until it was like it had never been there.
It helped and hurt that it was gone, but at least now he could focus on keeping an eye on the doors and making sure they wouldn’t be surprised by any enemies. It must have been a few hours when Aveline and Anders came back through the door, looking exhausted but with encouraged smiles on their faces.
“Good news, we’ve found a way out and Aveline beat a bunch of darkspawn to a pulp. It’s a bit of a walk, but we should be free and clear of the expedition party going this way,” Anders said as they walked up, worry climbing into his face when he saw the sleeping Hawke. “How is she?”
“A lot better, just sleeping. I think she’ll be okay if we wake her now.” He didn’t give any further explanation and though Aveline looked like she wanted to ask, she didn’t end up doing so.
“Alright Hawke, you lazy fool, time to get up,” she said instead, reaching down to shake the woman.
Hawke roused, her fingers briefly tightening around Varrics’ before releasing them completely as she sat up.
“All good?” he asked, almost under his breath even with the rest of their party at his back. She gave a small nod, grabbing her staff and moving to stand. She still looked like she might be coming down with an illness, but the thin sheen of sweat that had been on her skin was gone and her gaze was clear.
“Yeah, just needed a nap I guess,” she said lightly, a mask Varric hadn’t realized she was wearing until now sliding into place. “Let’s get out of here.”
It still took nearly another week to reach the surface, but with no other weird red lyrium idols, Hawke managed to hold herself together. If the other two noticed the way Varric hovered always at her back and seemed to communicate as much with his eyes as his words, they didn’t say.
And when they got back into Kirkwall, Varric stayed where he would be for the next three years; at Hawke’s side.