#drifting roads

I cannot see the path. Perhaps there is only abyss. Trembling, I step forward, In darkness enveloped. - Trials 1-13

Standing at the edge of the battlements alongside the Inquisitor, Hawke was sure they were facing certain death. It had been a quick siege , just as the Commander had planned, yet the confrontation with Erimond quickly fell apart. Varric remained at Hawke’s side while Alistair and Blackwall and Dorian stood to the other side of the Inquisitor as the team faced down the terrifying dragon. 

This had to be the end. 

With a loud explosion Hawke found herself falling but instead of death, there was a flash of green light and then…

“Well, this is unexpected,” Alistair said as he looked down at the Inquisitor below.

“Is this… are we dead?” Hawke asked. “If this is the afterlife, the Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker’s bosom.”

“No, the Inquisitor did something with the mark,” Alistair answered. “Opened another rift. I think we are in the Fade.”

“Well, shit,” Hawke said. ‘The fucking Fade.”

From then, it was running. Hawke was glad she remembered to wear her comfortable boots but even then it was rough going. Demons, monsters, nightmares. The Fade through it all at them. She had experienced the Fade before, the betrayals and all, but this was nothing like the previous time. This was real. Physically, really in the Fade. For once in her life, Hawke could not even see a path out of it.

Spiders! It was always spiders and now there was a fucking spider demon nightmare chasing them.

Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god?

It was getting into her head. Into everyone’s head. With each comment Hawke could see their resolve crack, just a little, enough to create a weakness.

Did the king's bastard think he could prove himself? It's far too late for that. Your whole life you've left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the throne of Ferelden... Who will you hide behind now?

The demon knew where to hit. All their weaknesses and fears exposed to all.

Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. 

Still the group moved forward, step by step towards their escape. A brutal fight led to an advantage, a small one, but enough to make the last push to the rift. They just needed to make it to the top of the stairs. 

So they ran.

Hawke looked ahead and she could see the rest of the group waiting. It was just her, the Inquisitor and Alistair with the Nightmare closing in fast as it leaped forward and blocked the path.

Shit, why did it always fall to her. She should run. This was a Grey Warden problem, let a Grey Warden solve it. Yet she knew that after this, the order would need strong leadership. They would need someone like Alistair. Hawke looked between the Inquisitor and Alistair but movement caught her eye at the rift. She could see him turning, spotting them paused on the stairs. He would run to them, Hawke knew that, he would not leave her side and it would end in his death. Yet another tally of someone she loved against her life.

~

“I know I have made a mess of things, Varric. I always do.” Hawke paced nervously as the Inquisition camp prepared for the siege. The fortress of Adamant loomed in the distance and the apprehension of the upcoming battle was in the air.

“It is nothing that can’t be fixed.” Varric replied, trying to calm Hawke’s nervous energy. She stopped pacing. With a huge sigh she collapsed on the ground, scooting across to sit next to Varric with her back against her pack. She leant in and rested her head against his shoulder. 

“Look, I’d rather not talk about it all now. We will talk when the battle is done. I promise.”

“I know, Hawke, I know.” Varric paused for a moment. “This isn't your battle. You could leave tonight and no one would judge you.”

“Only if you come with me.”

~

And in that moment she did what she had to do.

The world faces the inevitable plummet into the abyss. Watch for that moment… and when it comes, do not hesitate to leap.

The words from a decade prior echoed in Hawke’s head. She glanced again at the figures near the rift before turning to the Inquisitor and Alistair.

“Go. I’ll cover you,” Hawke said. “Say goodbye to Varric for me. Get him out of here!”

Alistair nodded, grabbed the Inquisitor’s arm and ran for the rift.

Hawke faced the nightmare. If only she knew how to fly.

---------------

It had been nearly a week back at Skyhold yet Inquisitor Gwendolyn Trevelyan had barely seen Varric. He hadn’t spoken much on the return journey to Skyhold and his presence had been missed in the grand hall. She made her way to his chambers and hesitated before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Varric called from inside. Gwen pushed open the door and saw him standing before the fireplace. He looked rough, like he hadn’t slept in weeks and his eyes were red from crying. Gwen stood awkwardly and was unsure about what to even say. She hadn’t planned that far ahead.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Hawke was on a Merchant Guild hit list?” Varric began. Gwen shook her head. “Hawke’s uncle  got into an investment scheme with a couple of Merchant Caste businessmen. They took a lot of people’s coin in order to arrange the import of wandering hills from the Anderfels. A delicacy, I’m told. Their weird, foreign foodstuffs arrived… alive. And one of them, true to its name, wandered off in the middle of the night.”

Varric looked up at Gwen, a catch in his voice as he struggled to continue. Not knowing fully what to say, Gwen stepped forward and hugged Varric. He froze, unsure at the gesture, and then wrapped his arms around Gwen’s waist in a tight hug.

“Shit…” he muttered.

“What happened next?” Gwen asked as she stepped back with a tight smile on her face.

“The Guild traced the shipment to Hawke’s include, but as usual, he was so  far in debt he couldn’t see daylight. So they went after Hawke instead. They sent guys from the local Carta to Hawke’s estate one night. Five big dusters, armed to the teeth. They kick in the door, and Hawke yells, ‘You’re just in time!’ And drags them over to a game of Wicked Grace. They played two hands of cards before the city guard showed up to take them away. A couple of them became regulars in our weekly game.”

Varric began to smile, a small chuckle forming amongst his works. He sat back down in his armchair.

“They wandered out of the house in a daze. No idea what had just happened. Never came back. Hawke just had that effect on people. I always wanted to tell that one. Thanks.”

“I am sorry,” Gwen began, “I tried to get her out of there.”

“I know,” Varric said sadly. “I know Hawke, once she makes her mind up about something very few people could change it.”

Gwen sat on a stool next to the fire.

“I didn’t know her as well as you did. Maybe you could tell me some more stories?”

“I’ve got some time.”

A few hours later Gwen left the chamber and she knew that, while it would take time, Varric would heal. She chuckled to herself at some of the stories he told. It was no surprise they didn’t make it into the Tale of the Champion. 

Inside his chamber, Varric sat at his desk and considered what to do next. He supposed it was time, he had been putting off the task long enough. He opened his desk drawer and pulled out the bundle of letters. He would need to send them. The rest of her family and friends deserved to know what had happened. Hawke’s latest letter was on top. He grabbed a knife and broke the seal and stared at the four words scribbled on the page.

Through blinding mist, I climb A sheer cliff, the summit shrouded in fog, the base Endlessly far beneath my feet The Maker is the rock to which I cling. - Trials 1-12

A cold wind blew through the halls of Skyhold. It was quiet with many residents having turned in for the night and the remainder seeking shelter at the tavern. The Inquisition was on edge as preparations were in place to travel to Adamant Fortress to confront the Grey Wardens. Hawke pulled her cloak closer against the cold as she made her way through the quiet keep, seeking Varric’s chambers.

Hawke pushed the door open, she and Varric never worried about pleasantries, and was happy to step into the warm room. It was small, but cosy, with a small desk covered in papers and books situated at one end. The curtains were pulled, blocking the snowstorm that raged outside. Varric sat at the desk, working by candlelight, as he focused on the parchment before him. 

Varric looked up at the sound of the door. 

“Hawke!” Varric exclaimed, a broad smile on his face. “Not that I mind your company, but what has brought you here tonight?”

“I did not mean to interrupt,” Hawke said as she closed the door behind herself. 

“Oh, I am just dealing with correspondence from Bran plus there are a few from the Prince of Starkhaven. Any excuse to avoid his letters is most welcome. Have a seat.” He gestured to the armchair opposite his desk.

Leaving her cloak and pack by the door Hawke sat and made herself comfortable. Varric took in her appearance. The last two years had been rough on Hawke, that much Varric could tell from the letters they had shared, but seeing her in person highlighted the toll of the years. Her red hair was shorter than it used to be, but it still curled around her face, and her skin was paler than he remembered. Varric noticed she held a bundle of letters in her hands and she clutched them tightly.

“Obviously the inner circle gets some perks around here,” Hawke said with a laugh, “the rest of us are left with tents and cold bunk rooms.”

“You should have mentioned it, Hawke, I could have sorted out better accommodation.”

“It doesn’t matter now. Besides, I will be leaving in the morning.”

“What do you mean?” Varric asked sharply.

“I met with the Inquisitor earlier. She asked that Alistair and I scout out the Grey Warden fortress ahead of the main force.” Hawke paused, waiting to see Varric’s reaction. “We are set to leave in two days and help Leliana’s scout establish a forward camp.”

Varric frowned at the news. “I don’t know why she is sending you to Adamant Fortress. You aren’t part of the Inquisition and it’s not your responsibility. I’ll talk to the Inquisitor tomorrow.”

“I doubt you’ll change her mind and even if you do, there is still Cassandra and Cullen to contend with.”

“Curly owes you a few favours and I’ll just have to remind him of that. As for Cassandra, I kept her away from you once and I’ll do it again.” There was a firmness to his voice that Hawke couldn’t place. 

“Look, I’m going, Varric, and that’s final.” He frowned at Hawke but she continued without letting him interrupt. “I just have some business to deal with before I go. You do know that I am thankful for your management of the Amell estate the last two years. There is more though, I need you to keep these safe for me as well.”

She handed Varric the bundle of sealed documents. He noticed his name written on the top document. 

“What are these?” Varric asked. He shuffled through the letters noting the names on them—Aveline, Carver, Anders, all the old crew.

Hawke continued. “There is a copy of my will. Plus some letters I would need delivered if I don’t come back. I trust you can make sure everyone is taken care of.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t leave these with Anders.”

“He isn't…” Hawke hesitated. “He is better than he was but he really isn’t stable these days. I don’t want him worrying. Look, I know you have your issues with him but if anything happens to me, please just make sure Anders is looked after.”

Varric could tell Hawke was leaving something out but he couldn’t guess what it was except that it related to Anders. He looked at her with the question in his eyes and Hawke matched his gaze. She was always good at holding her own secrets as his many losses at Wicked Grace over the years had proved.

“Just take them. I need to know everything is taken care of.” Hawke’s voice broke a little as she said this and she fidgeted with her hands, like she always did when she was nervous. 

Varric sighed, placing the letters in his top drawer. He noticed her relax at his action yet his own emotions were rising at the thought of Hawke at Adamant Fortress. Years of fighting had taken its toll on his best friend. He could see how the years had worn her down and the situation with Anders weighed heavily on her. She deserved a break.m, freedom from politics and war.

“I should not have asked you to come,” Varric said, his voice full of regret. “Yet again, I am the one who put you in danger.”

“It’s not your fault, Varric.”

“But I’m the one who brought you to Skyhold. The one who has put you in the path of danger, yet again.” His voice rose in anger, not at Hawke but himself. 

Hawke rose from the armchair and stared down Varric. Her face was getting flushed and Varric remembered what it was like to face her anger. 

“Danger I put Thedas in by letting Corpheus escape! Released by my blood and I couldn’t even kill him properly. Everyone in Thedas is under threat and it’s my fault. This fight is as much mine as the Inquisitor’s.”

Varric stood and stepped towards her. He had seen that determined look in her eyes many times over the years, usually before she launched herself head first into danger. Hawke stood very still as the magic began to flare over her hands. He was sure she wouldn’t set him on fire. Well, relatively sure.

“You don’t have to be here, Hawke,’ said Varric gently, ’you should go home. Be safe and stay away from this shit.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Varric. Someone needs to be there to keep you alive. I certainly don’t trust any of the Inquisition to.” She gestured out towards the rest of the castle as she said this. “It has to be me,” Hawke said as her voice caught a little, hinting at the anxiety she was masking with anger. 

“Hawke,” Varric said sternly, “I’m not going to die.”

He gently grabbed her arms and gave her a little shake to bring her back to reality. 

“You can’t know that,” Hawke said with a quivering voice. “Everyone I love is doomed. My parents, Bethany. All dead. Carver is cursed for the short life of a Grey Warden. Anders is an abomination. It is only a matter of time before something happens to you. I will not let that happen.”

“You could have stayed away. Stayed safe. It’s not your responsibility to fix the whole world.”

“I was always coming to Skyhold.”

“Why?”

“Because you asked me to! I will always come if you ask and if it takes my death to save you, then that is what will happen.” Hawke’s voice rose angrily as she struggled to hold back tears. 

“You are not dying! I am not dying!” Varric yelled back at her. Hawke startled back at the sound and her eyes narrowed. Oh boy, he was in danger of being set on fire now. He stepped further forward, his body close to Hawke’s as he continued in a gentler tone. “But I need you to be safe. I need to know you are safe.”

Varric looked up at her, one of his hands brushing the hair back from the side of her face before moving down to cup her cheek, pulling her gaze down to his. The air was thick with anticipation. Their friendship had always been a delicate balance of laughter and attraction. One small step from either of them threatened to destroy that balance.

“Varric…” Hawke whispered, her breath quickening at his touch.

Varric gently pulled her face down, his nose brushing against hers, their breaths mingling. Time slowed and both remained still, focused solely on the other. 

“You are not allowed to die, Hawke, because I cannot imagine a world without you in it.” 

With those words Varric breached the distance between them, kissing her softly with a hint of hesitation fueled by the prospect of changing years of friendship. Varric drew back slowly as he watched her face carefully for her reaction. His hand remained cupping her face as the only physical contact between them.

“Hawke,” he started, “Alys…” Whatever Varric was going to say was lost as he stumbled over her name, unusual of him to be lost for words. 

Just hearing him say her name like that sparked something within Hawke. Yes, there was Anders but the recent years were not kind on their relationship and, following the events in Kirkwall, they more clung to each other out of familiarity than affection. But Varric had always been there, always been her friend and despite him turning down her advances years before, she still held feelings for him. 

To Varric’s surprise, she kissed him back. 

There was an urgency to Hawke’s kiss. Her hands gripped at the collar of Varric’s shirt as he wrapped one arm around her waist, supporting her weight, as the other hand tangled in her hair. There was a dizzy relief, a rush of adrenaline, as the feelings suppressed for over a decade of friendship came rushing to the surface. There was no time for delicate actions or talk, just the rushed euphoria as clothes were quickly removed as the couple tumbled on the bed. 

Varric paused, breathing heavily as he looked down at Hawke. He could scarcely believe that this was happening. Years of longing, mistimed advances and other lovers had never let him dare dream it might actually happen. He has to be careful though. She was broken after everything she has been through. Hell, he was a bit battered around the edges himself. 

He kissed down the side of her neck, nibbling at her skin as he tasted her. His hand slipped down between them, feeling her need as she writhed under him. Her hands grasped at his back, drawing him closer, trying to touch as much of his skin as possible. 

“Hawke,” Varric began softly, “are you sure?”

“Damn it, Varric, I need you,” she moaned against his ear. With that small permission, Varric repositioned himself and thrust into her with rough desperation. All thoughts left Hawke’s head. Corypheus, Adamant, Anders. None of it mattered, just her and Varric. 

His hands came up and interlocked with Hawke’s, their eyes locked as they lost themselves to the sensations. He tried to be gentle, to slow down and savour the moment, but with Hawke’s urging, he succumbed to the pleasure. 

“Hawke,” Varric moaned, his forehead pressed against hers. 

It had been so damned long, for both of them, and it was rough and urgent. With each thrust she ground her hips back against him, desperate in seeking her fulfilment. Years of friendship, flirting, other lovers, all culminating in this moment as they desperately sought release with each other. 

Sliding his hands down, Varric grabbed underneath her and tilted her hips up toward himself. With the change of position, Hawke’s moans grew louder and she finally was tipped over the edge. As she convulsed around him Varric followed, repeating her name over and over as he came crashing down. 

As his breathing steadied, Varric shifted onto the bed and lay beside Hawke while keeping her close. He noticed tears forming in her eyes and, without saying a word, Varric gently wiped them away. Varric pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head. Whatever she needed from him, he would be there.

“Can I stay here tonight?” she asked quietly. 

“Of course. Stay as long as you need to.” 

---------------

The soft glow of sunrise filtering into the room, waking Varric and he reached out his arm expecting to find Hawke still beside him. The bed was empty and the empty space cold and unwelcoming. Of course, he should have known last night wouldn’t have changed Hawke’s path. She was travelling to Adamant Fortress whether he approved or not. 

Varric rose, donning a robe to guard against the cold, and noticed her pack gone and the letters she had given him before sitting in the middle of his desk. There was a new letter in the pile, freshly sealed with wax and bearing the words Varric, I am sorry, Hawke.