#a crab

He never sent the letter. That was the first thought that entered Varric’s mind as he felt himself regain consciousness. His head was throbbing—actually, everything in his body ached. He wondered for a split second if he was dead. Some afterlife, he thought. But he was breathing, and—prophet’s laurel—he smelt prophet’s laurel.

He thought of Kirkwall. He thought of the coastline. He thought of Hawke. He thought of—

With significant effort he opened his eyes, his vision blurry. He blinked several times in an effort to adjust, trying to take in his surroundings. He turned his head, and as his sight finally cleared he saw just who he had hoped for—Bethany.

She was asleep in the chair next to the bed he occupied, the upper half of her body folded over and resting near his body. Her arms were curled around her head, face turned towards him. He frowned at the way her brow was tightly furrowed, even as she slept. Hesitantly he reached out, placing his hand over one of hers. He closed his eyes again, savoring the warmth of her skin. She was always so warm. He stroked his thumb over her fingers, concentrating on the fact that she was there—that he was alive.

She stirred. “Varric?” Her voice was so quiet, so shaky.

It brought a different kind of pain to Varric’s chest. He peeked open his eyes to find her halfway leaned up, watching his hand sweep across her own. And then her eyes met his.

“Varric!”

He made a small disapproving sound when she pulled her hand away, moving to sit up completely. Her eyes were wide as she just stared at him, clearly in shock. He knew he was injured, but could only guess at how bad the damage really was. A small part of him felt self-conscious—if he had the strength, he would’ve reached up to make sure his hair was in place. He craned his neck off the pillow just long enough to notice they were the only occupants of the tent.  

“Help me sit up,” Varric groaned. A shooting pain racked through his chest as he tried to adjust himself.

Bethany was frantic as she leaned over him a moment before standing up, turning towards the closed tent flaps instead. “Let me get the healers—”

“No!” Varric didn’t mean to yell, but it stopped her in her tracks. “I’d rather you…” he trailed.

She didn’t move from her spot near the tent’s opening. He was too exhausted to argue with her, but they were alone—something he had been wanting now for weeks. He wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass him.

“You know I’m not a healer, Varric.” There was so much concern etched into her features, and he wanted nothing more than to make it disappear. He had so much to make up for already, and now all this was just something else he needed to apologize for. She took a cautious step back towards the bed.

“Please don’t let strange men in robes touch me,” he tried to lighten the mood. If he looked as bad as he felt, he knew they needed some humor.

Bethany’s lips twitched in the faintest of smiles, but it was gone all too soon. “I might do more damage than help.”

She took one of his hands, the other sliding around his shoulder as she helped him sit up and lean against some propped up pillows. He closed his eyes again, tingling at the warm sensation of her hand gliding across his skin. It was a welcome reprieve to the pain that continued to radiate elsewhere. Her scent lingered around him as he breathed in—did she know how comforting it was? Once upright, he could clearly see that his shirt was missing, swapped for numerous bandages across his torso and shoulder. He thought about making a joke about the state of his chest hair, but bit his tongue when he saw Bethany’s melancholy expression.

“How long have I been out?” Varric asked. He tentatively poked a few fingers at the dressing on his chest, wincing at the immediate pain he felt. Well that was stupid.  

Suddenly, Bethany’s hands were on either side of his face, cradling his head. “You came out of the fade unconscious and…” she trailed, eyes scanning over him. “It’s been well over two days. We had to take you back to Griffon Wing Keep. I was so—”

Frightened. She didn’t need to say it—he could clearly tell. Her thumbs brushed across his cheek and jaw, and he flicked his eyes closed again, finding relief in her touch. He covered one of her hands with his, just wanting to stay in that quiet content for as long as they could. There was still so much he needed to talk to her about, so much he needed to say, but—wait.

The reality of the situation came crashing down around him and he froze, gripping her hand tightly. He snapped open his eyes. “Where’s Hawke?”

Bethany’s lips fell open in a small gasp. She frowned, and Varric felt his gut tighten. The last thing he remembered in the Fade was Hawke and Stroud arguing over…something.

“Please don’t tell me he—”

“He’s fine,” Bethany assured. Her hand squeezed his when he didn’t relax. “Well, he’s been injured—not as bad as you, but—”

“And Stroud?” Varric asked next.

Bethany’s expression dropped completely. Her eyes fell away from his. It was almost all he needed. “Garrett told me…that Stroud sacrificed himself so that you all could escape.”

He nodded. “He wasn’t the first good man to fall to Corypheus. He won’t be the last,” Varric sighed. “This story’s no good for heroes.”

“Please don’t talk like that,” Bethany whispered. It was only then that he noted that her eyes were bloodshot. She had been crying. For all the pain he was feeling, an immeasurable amount of guilt took over instead. Of course he didn’t die—he wouldn’t have been able to do so, not when he had unfinished business.

“Did you watch over me this entire time?” he asked. Bethany slowly pulled her hands away from his face. Reluctantly he allowed her to do so, but held onto one at the last moment, not wanting to let go so quickly. He needed to stay grounded to the moment.

She stared down at their hands. “Not…at first,” she admitted.

Varric offered a small chuckle. “Hey now.”

“I was cross with you Varric!” Bethany’s sharp tone had him recoiling. She furrowed her brows together, gritting her teeth for a moment before sighing out. “I’m wondering if I even have the right to be—Maker, it’s so confusing.”

“The right?” Varric repeated.

She avoided his gaze. “I went through your things—your letters—like some…snoopy, jealous…ugh!” She covered her face with her free hand. “I’m so ashamed of it.”

He found her reaction almost endearing. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Sunshine.” He noted the small way her eyes flickered at the mention of her nickname. He hadn’t used it, hadn’t said it in a long while. When there was a lull, Bethany freed her hand from his. Despite his frown, she reached to inspect the bandage on his shoulder. She shot him a sympathetic glance as she pulled it from his skin, the underside soaked with blood.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said. Talking was always better than silence. Usually.

Bethany turned for a moment, grabbing a washcloth from the basin on the nearby table. It was cold for a moment, but with a flicker of energy, she had made it warm. “More than thank you?”

“Ha,” he responded. He winced when she placed a new pad of gauze over his shoulder, the fabric soaked with some kind of medical ointment. By the way it stung, he guessed it was disinfectant. “I’ll never live that down.”

“I’m here now,” Bethany finally said.

He nodded. “That you are.” He scooped up one of her hands again once they were free of medical supplies, giving her fingers an affectionate squeeze.

Bethany looked at him for a long moment, her expression hard to read. It wasn’t that he was worried about saying the right or wrong thing anymore—he just wanted to be honest—but that didn’t mean that he was still worried about how this would all play out. Maybe it’s why he had dragged his feet all these years until fate (and the Fade) had to intervene. He wouldn’t have regrets, not anymore.

“I should’ve sent you those letters,” he sighed.

She frowned, but there was a slight shine to her eyes. “And what about the ones for Bianca?”

That was fair. Varric nodded. Now this, he actually wanted to tread carefully with. The last time he had tried to talk about his ex, it hadn’t gone well. At all.

“I should’ve burned them,” he stated plainly. “Sunsh—Bethany—I’m sorry if it ever seemed like I was…leading you on.” A small part of him wanted to laugh at the fact that he recalled Hawke’s advice. She was confused now, with a trace of hurt. “What I mean is, I should’ve been more considerate of how my words and actions could’ve affected you.”

She stayed quiet. He continued. “Hawke brought up an interesting point—”

“Garrett?” she interrupted in disbelief.

Varric softly chuckled. “I know, Hawke, offering relationship advice. But he was right. I took what we had in the past…and whatever we have now…for granted, like the biggest fool. I fell victim to a horrible cliché saying; have your cake and eat it too.”

“What did Garrett say?” Bethany asked softly. She didn’t seem upset that Varric and her brother had been discussing them.

“He stabbed me right in the heart with sharp words,” Varric tried to joke. He cleared his throat when Bethany looked less than impressed. “Bianca. He told me that Bianca was doing—had did—the same thing to me for the last…what, fifteen years? Emotional warfare.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Bethany mumbled. There was a slight sarcasm in her words that he took as hopeful. Only he would. She skewed her lips to one side, lowering her gaze for a long moment. “I wish you would’ve told me about her, Varric.”

“I know,” he sighed. “Trust me. I know.”

Through it all, Varric noticed that her hand was still in his. He ran his thumb across her fingers, pulling her arm a little closer to his torso. She didn’t resist.

“I spoke to Bianca. When we went to Valammar.”

“Oh,” she breathed. She gulped. “…And?”

“It’s over. Whatever…we were, it’s done. It has been, but now there’s some finality to it. Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”

Bethany didn’t say anything for a long time. At first, he was content to let her sit and process what he had said, but the longer the silence dragged on, the more uncomfortable he felt. The more anxious he felt. The hard part was over, but the harder part was still mulling around in his head.

Her fingers twitched. “You didn’t just do that because of me…did you?”

“I—” Varric paused. Bethany was frowning, and that was terrifying. He almost walked back on his words, but forged ahead. No regrets. “Why do you think I’ve done anything lately?”

He hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory, but it certainly caught her attention. Her displeasure faltered, expression switching to one of surprise.

“I’ve been acting like some dumbstruck idiot from a romance novel since Hawke brought you to Skyhold. Maybe that was his plan from the start, knowing how he likes to hide his more devious plans behind feigned stupidity,” Varric trailed for a moment. Bethany was still staring at him, flabbergasted. “You’re all I think about, and if dwarves could dream, you bet I’d be dreaming about you too.”

Bethany blushed, her free hand reaching to nervously toy with her scarf. He squeezed her hand tight—there was no stopping now.

“Do you know how long I’d been waiting to kiss you again?” he softly laughed, beside himself. He couldn’t recall a time he had ever been so honest with anybody. “You’re the last thing I thought of before—” He stopped himself, not wanting to upset her. “You’re the only light for me, Sunshine.”

Still, Bethany remained silent.

“And, and—” Varric stared at her intently. He needed her to say something. “A birdy told me you feel the same way.”

“I—” Her face went bright red. “I hate Garrett.”

He laughed, and finally, she reacted with a smile. The tension was slowly melting away.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” she asked next.  

“I’m not good at sappy, you know that.” Varric lifted her hand towards his face so he could place a tentative kiss to the back of her hand. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“I wanted to…Maker, I’m afraid I’m still not very good at any of this,” she giggled. “I feel like a teenager all over again. I’m too old to feel so hopeless.”

“I’ve got ten years on you,” Varric mumbled, placing another kiss to her wrist.

Bethany’s gaze softened as she watched his movements. She leaned towards him slightly. “So…mages are still being locked up, and I’m sure the Qunari are still trying to wage war somewhere.”

Varric grinned, catching on immediately. “The world is literally burning.”

“Nugs aren’t flying,” she returned with a smile.

“One day—here we are,” Varric declared. “Bethany, I’m willing if you—”

She quickly closed the distance between them, kissing him firmly. For all of two seconds he was caught off guard, his surprise turning into delight as her hands moved—one to the side of his face, the other to his shoulder. Varric leaned into her, sliding one hand across her waist and the other up her arm. He grinned as she kissed him with fervor, but groaned as the weight of her pressed against the most injured part of his body—which just so happened to be everything. Ancestors curse him. Why was his timing always so awful?

“Bethany,” he barely got her name out as she paused to take a breath. Her lips trailed across his chin and jawline. He groaned for an entirely different reason, the one hand at her side squeezing appreciatively. “Sunshine.”

She only settled further against him, her chest pressed against his. At any other time, he would’ve been elated. Varric meant to keep his pained reaction to himself, but couldn’t. He hissed sharply, and Bethany pulled away in an instant.

“Oh—Oh Maker!” she yelped. She covered her lips with a few of her fingers, face lit with embarrassment. She moved to lean back into the chair, but Varric stilled her, keeping her in place.

“You’ll do more damage,” he recalled with a tease, peeking one eye open.

Bethany frowned, and insisted on leaning back to her seat. She slipped one of her hands back into his. “Varric, I’m so sorry. I just got carried away.”

“Glad to have that charming effect on you, love,” he breathed. Her expression softened, mouth falling open with a small gasp.

“Love?” she asked in a whisper.

Varric nodded without hesitation. “Yes.”

He hadn’t really meant for it to slip out, but it only seemed natural. There didn’t seem to be any harm in saying it, not with what he had gone through to get this far. “What did you think that was before if not a confession?” he softly laughed. “Okay, admittedly I didn’t use the titular phrase so I’ll say it now—”

“I love you,” Bethany interrupted him, beating him to the punch.

He smirked. “Not fair.” Tears pooled in the corner of her eyes, despite her grin. “Hey, hey…”

Varric pulled her close, pushing back the pain and silently reassuring her it was okay for her to lean against him again. He held her close, resting his chin against her temple as she pressed her nose against his neck. Her arms slid around him and he felt a slight relief wash over him. Warmth—love. He breathed a smile—he could always feel her magic in some way, even if it was just all in his head.

“Maker, I wanted to say that—” she sniffled, words muffled. “I love you,” she repeated.

“Stop that,” Varric chuckled. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You gotta let me…”

Slowly, he pulled her up so he could see her face. He held the side of her face with one hand, using the pad of his thumb to wipe the tears that had escaped away. For a moment, he thought he too might cry, but managed to swallow them down. He trailed his thumb down, brushing over her lips affectionately. They kissed, softly this time, before he rested his forehead against hers.

“Bethany Hawke,” he breathed. “Sunshine…” He almost laughed at the expectant look in her eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he repeated quickly. “Now we’re even.”

Varric couldn’t recall a time he had ever seen her so…happy. And he had done that.

“I love you,” she whispered.

He smiled. “I love you.”

“Are you going to do that every time?” she asked. She wasn’t annoyed at all.

“Of course,” he answered. Varric kissed her again.

Bethany smiled against his lips. “I could get used to this.”  

Skyhold, Three weeks later

The journey back to Skyhold had been a long one. For starters, it wasn’t just Varric who had been injured and needed to recover. Hawke had broken his arm, and despite the healers attempting to set it, the break had to heal naturally. The Inquisitor too was healing—mentally and physically. She had dealt with the Wardens, invited them into the Inquisition fold, despite a few of the inner circle disagreeing. The alternative wouldn’t have been fair to Stroud’s memory. There was that too—a small funeral of sorts held at Griffon Wing Keep the evening before they left. But they couldn’t stay in the Western Approach forever—the threat of Corypheus still lingered, and so the Inquisition marched.

Varric would’ve never thought he would feel at home in the Frostback Mountains—in Skyhold. But considering the turmoil the previous weeks had brought, and the near-death experience, he was grateful to be in a familiar place. Somewhere safe. He was grateful for a lot of things, actually.

“Who are you writing to?”

Varric glanced up from his work, smiling as he saw Bethany approach. She leaned down to wrap her arms around his shoulders where he stood, her cheek nuzzling against his for a moment before she kissed his temple. His chest swelled—he wasn’t ever going to get over this feeling.

He lifted an arm to hold her in place. “Isabela. I haven’t written to her in a while, and if I don’t do it soon, I’m afraid she’ll send pirates after me. Or worse.”

“Worse?” Bethany giggled.

Varric nodded, tilting his head up slightly to glance at her from the corner of his eye. “Have you ever woken up with a halla head in your bed?”

The two laughed at the absurdity. She stayed close to him as he continued scribbling some words down.

“Are you going to tell her about us?” Bethany asked and Varric nodded. “How so?”

“Something like…’In Skyhold Bethany and I got back together—”

“And there was much rejoicing!” Hawke. Yay.

Varric and Bethany glanced up to find the Champion approaching, his arms wide. The fact he was still lingering in Skyhold was telling. He was supposed to have left for Weisshaupt days ago. But the rogue kept circling through his goodbyes, unable, or unwilling to leave just yet. The Fade had been a traumatic experience for him too—Varric knew—but the man was seemingly back to his usual grandiose self.

Except—there were tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Oh Maker, I’m just so happy,” he exclaimed. Bethany laughed as she moved away from Varric to embrace her brother, rolling her eyes when he leaned down to ensure Varric also joined. The taller man squeezed them tightly. “You two.”

“Not this again,” Varric muttered. It hadn’t taken long for Hawke to discover the two had reconciled, walking in on the two cuddled close on Varric’s bed at Griffon Wing Keep. No amount of explanation fazed the older Hawke sibling, but in the end he was glad the two had ‘adulted successfully’ (as he put it).

“I just—” Hawke paused and pulled away. He placed a hand on each of their cheeks. “It’s not fair that I don’t get to stick around and watch this love blossom. I missed out the first time because of secrets,” he dragged the word out, glaring at them both. “And now I have to travel through Orlais to see some important Wardens.”

Varric swatted his friend’s hand away. “That’s what happens when you’re an important person, Hawke. You have to do important things.”

“Who knows what might happen when I’m away,” he pondered. “A wedding! Babies?!”

“Maker!” Bethany shouted, smacking her brother on the arm—purposefully so where it had been broken.

He cried and laughed out at the same time in some strange yelp. “Teasing!” He didn’t stop though. “You’ll name him after me though, yes? Hawke? Gary?”

This time Varric smacked him. “I’m not naming any—hypothetical or not—child after you.”

“I carried you out of the Fade, Varric,” Hawke reminded. “It’s the least you could do.”

“What happened to a good ol’ fashioned life debt?” Varric asked.

Hawke shook his head and Bethany groaned, covering her face with her hand. “No, I’m going godly with this one. First born.”

“Second born,” Varric countered.

Hawke leered at him. “Only if it’s a twin.”

“Can we stop making decisions about my womb, please?” Bethany interrupted.

Hawke’s expression softened and he grabbed their hands instead. “On a serious note—don’t look at me like that, I’m capable of being serious,” he spoke. “There’s nobody I trust more than you, Varric, to keep my sister safe while I’m away. She’ll be happy here. With you.”

Surprisingly, Varric was touched. He squeezed his friend’s hand in return. He wasn’t sure how to follow that up. Bethany moved towards him again, kissing him on the cheek.

“I really am going to miss you two,” Hawke said as she pulled away. He smirked. “And Ferelden. It’s a lot greener than I remember…is that the breach?”

Bringing Hawke to the Inquisition had been a risk—by the grace of Andraste it had paid off. He glanced to Bethany and the two shared a knowing smile. It didn’t matter that it hadn’t gone to plan—he’d do it all again in a heartbeat. His reward was well worth it. The sun was shining.

Rivaini-

Enclosed is the ten silver I owed you from before, and the five gold I’ll owe you for what I’m about to tell you now. That is, if Hawke hasn’t already spoiled it. I know he always likes to spoil the best stories.

So here’s the big secret. Sunshine Bethany and I were an “item” back in the day, in Kirkwall. (And so on, and so on—the details of what happened in Kirkwall I’ll leave up to your imagination. It doesn’t matter if I tell you the truth does it?)

Anyways, it ended…sort of. I guess you could say neither one of us got over one another. As fate—or Hawke—would have it, she found her way to Skyhold, and back into my life. Hopefully for good this time.

I guess what I’m writing to tell you is that we’re happy.

And for the love of Andraste please don’t write any friend-fiction about us—no that will just give you the idea.  

PS: Hawke says that he wants to get married. Actually, he already had the Inquisitor officiate it. Said you wouldn’t mind. He also said it would ‘lessen the blow of him disappearing on you’. If you want to find him, he’ll be at Weisshaupt. Have fun on the honeymoon!