#vhawke

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It would almost be funny, had it not been so torturous - he'd woken up that morning in the low light of his suite and thought even then, in the perpetual dimness of the Hanged Man, that the summer heat was too much, too sticky, too overwhelming, and yet where had he found himself?

On the coast, of course, where there was nothing even resembling shade.

Grumbling things better left under his breath, Varric holstered Bianca and fanned himself, sending the sun a withering glare that, quite frankly, seemed not to affect it in the slightest; he hooked a finger in the collar of his tunic, praying for a breeze that would not come, and no sooner had he done that than the whistling began.

"One more button, one more button!" Hawke catcalled from the shore, her smile shining at least twice as brightly as that endless sun as she paused her looting.

"Hawke," said Merrill through a giggle. "You just kissed Varric." "On the lips," added Fenris. "With a goofy, love-struck look on your face, one might add," teased Isabela. "Anything to share with us?" Eden Hawke accidentally reveals her relationship with Varric during a tense game of Wicked Grace. — "tavern" prompt filled for @dragonagekissweek

"You're cheating."

Typically, in a game such as Wicked Grace, at a table such as their own, the word cheat was one that inspired fury, that raised players from their seats and compelled their fists to start swinging, chests to puff out, faces to glow red with indignation. Tonight, however, during this particular game at this particular table, Eden Hawke merely leaned back in her chair, fanning her cards out between her fingers as if they were her feathers. "That is a baseless accusation and I will not stand for it."

Fandom: Dragon Age Pairing: Hawke/Varric Summary: One of the author's portraits on Varrics books depicts him surrounded by many beautiful women. It could perhaps use a little updating, now that he's a married man.

AO3 Link and matching art by snuffes go look look look!!

Hawke lowered her book and listened.

It had gone very quiet in the other room. Far too quiet. Varric had received a letter from his editor, which meant there should have been another hour at least of grumbling, muttering, and the occasional ‘oh come on!’ playing counterpoint to furious scribbling. 

Instead, there was silence. 

Hawke set the book aside and swung her long legs off the bed, biting back the groan as she levered herself up off the dwarfishly low bed. She stuck her head around the corner. Varric was still at the table, surrounded by the detritus that always accumulated when he was working -- loose paper, half-empty glasses, ink pots, crumpled blotting paper. 

Varric wasn’t hunched over writing, or staring thoughtfully into the distance, or flicking crumpled up scraps of paper into the fire. He was holding a thick piece of paper and staring at it with an odd expression on his face. 

“Something wrong?” 

“No,” Varric said slowly. “Just uh… unexpected.” 

Varric knows what it is like to bury a loved one alone. That is why he stays with Hawke until the sun goes down, watching quietly as she digs a grave for her mabari along the windy shore of the Wounded Coast.