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pb1138 · 5 years

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A Reunion, Ch3

Chapter 3 of my Hawke x Varric fic. Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

“That bastard. I’m going to kill him.” Hawke seethed with anger as she read over the will, and Varric cast Fenris a furtive glance.

“What does it say?” Ah, Carver. Ever the genius.

She clenched the paper in her hands and ground her teeth as she stood. “Mother got it all. Every single copper. And Gamlen spent it all.”

Carver shrugged. “And? What are you getting so worked up about?”

Fenris took a step back, eyes going wide. A line had been crossed, and everyone except Carver knew it.

Her voice was eerily calm as she spoke, but each word came with more venom than the last. “And? Oh, and nothing, I suppose. A family fortune, wasted in the span of 20 years. That’s nothing to get upset about, you’re quite right. Nevermind that the reason we just wasted an entire year of our lives in indentured servitude because of Gamlen’s incompetence. The estate and the money meant to provide us security in this rathole of a city, who needs it? Nevermind we live in a three room hovel, sharing a triple-decker bunkbed with our mother. I quite enjoy listening to her night terrors, don’t you? Nevermind our mother has nothing left of her parents or her life before us. So, no, Carver. You’re quite right.” An eerie and sarcastic grin spread across her face. “There’s nothing here to get worked up about. Nothing at all.”

By some miracle, Carver seemed to recognize that if he were to speak now, it would be disastrous, so instead he just looked away. Hawke ground her teeth some more as she cast the will one more look-over. Shaking her head, she scoffed and stuffed the paper into her sack. “Let’s just go. Mother will want to see this.”

Xxx

“…I’m just saying, blood’s blood and all but you are taking advantage of my hospitality. It’s only fair if you make something of a…monthly contribution.”

Hawke was positively vibrating with anger as she opened the door to Gamlen’s hovel. Varric reached over to put his arm in front of Fenris to prevent him from following the humans inside, which the elf seemed to agree was a bad idea. Instead, the two men leaned against the wall on either side of the door, listening intently.

“You sold my children into servitude! Now you’re asking me to pay rent?” Varric smirked slightly. It wasn’t difficult to see where Hawke got her fire from. Leandra may be a small woman, but Andraste’s tits if she weren’t a force to be reckoned with when she wanted to be.

“Uh. Maybe just put something towards food?” Maker’s breath, Gamlen was pathetic. Simpering and weak, backing down from the challenge as always. Varric felt deeply for Hawke having to put up with his shit for so long.

Hawke’s voice carried through, menacing and fierce. “We found the will.”

Carver butted in, his tone sounding as though he had been angered by the discovery all along. “Grandfather left everything to Mother and us. I guess he had some sense after all. See for yourself.”

Leandra read a few lines from the will and trailed off, as though accusing Gamlen of his crime.

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

“You’re the one who ran away, Leandra!” Varric’s eyebrows shot up, and he cast Fenris an incredulous look, mouth slightly agape. Fenris seemed equally surprised, and the two of them leaned in further to better hear. Gamlen went off on a rant, the standard younger-sibling tripe that Carver often used against Hawke. The air around them was getting colder, indicating the depth of anger Belladonna was feeling. He trailed off with a simpering, “How long was I supposed to wait?”

They both waited on bated breath. “You’ll spend the rest of your life paying my mother back for everything you stole.” It wasn’t a request.

“Andraste’s ass I will!” Varric half expected Gamlen to be tossed through the door onto his ass. It’s not as though he didn’t deserve it. Instead, Leandra surprised them all, absolving him of basically all responsibility. After all that, Gamlen was off the hook.

After a long moment, Hawke threw the door open and stalked through, small sparks of electricity dancing around her clenched fists. She didn’t wait for her friends to follow her as she prowled away. Fenris gaped at Varric for a moment, but the two of them went running after her. Hawke maneuvered her way through the streets, straight to the Hanged Man. Once inside, she bee-lined straight for the bar where she reached over and took an entire serving jug of ale from below the bar. Taking a giant swig from it, she stormed her way up to Varric’s quarters. The two men followed her inside, a little breathless from the chase, and Fenris followed her obligingly. Varric paused just long enough to slip over to Corff and pass him a small bag of coins in payment.

“The nerve! I mean really? He spends it all, every single copper given to her from my grandparents, and then he has the audacity to try to extort more from my poor mother?” She scoffed, pacing around the length of the room, gesticulating wildly with sparking hands as she ranted. Varric and Fenris took seats at the table, watching as she let the steam out. After a good long half hour, she slumped down in a chair and took another long swig of the ale. “I just. I can’t believe him. Nor Mother, for letting him off like that. If it were up to me…” She trailed off, pursing her lips and clenching a fist in agitation before taking another swig from the jug. Neither of her companions knew what to say, so instead they settled for letting her catch her breath. She let out a sigh and smiled weakly at them. “I’m sorry, guys. I don’t mean to burden you with my shit.”

Varric chuckled as he leaned back in his chair. “Hey, what’s a night with Hawke without a little drama?”

The three of them shared a laugh and began talking again. Before long, Isabela and Anders made their way to the table to share in Varric’s generous purse and listen to each other’s’ tales over a few rounds of Wicked Grace. They were enthralled by one of Isabela’s exploits on the high seas when there was a knock at the door. Hawke looked up and waved, a big, drunken grin plastered on her face. “Hello, Lord Carver,” she called.

He sat down across from her, but Varric could see he wasn’t having it. “We’re still a long way from cowing templars with our titles, Sister.”

Hawke’s teasing expression faded into something Varric could only describe as “annoyed.” Eyes narrowing, she lowered her mug, but he could see how hard she was working to keep her expression calm and level. Despite the near-success of not showing her emotions on her face, her words came with more venom than he was sure she’d anticipated. “We took a big step with this. You should respect it.”

“Right, right, the glorious Amells, a noble lineage dating to the third blight. You know what that means. 700 years of people sitting around saying, ‘Wow, look how great we used to be!’ Mother didn’t even want that life back until we got dumped here. And you only care because we’re under templar scrutiny.”

The conversation around the table fell silent. Varric’s eyes went wide, and he could practically feel the anger rolling off of Hawke. A few of the others seemed uncomfortable by the growing tension, not without reason. Fenris and Isabela shared a nervous glance. “The second child act is getting pretty stale, Brother.”

Carver scoffed, the hostility in his own voice rising above his sister’s. “Try it from this side, always running after you or taking care of Mother while you mark your territory.”

Isabela looked as if she were going to say something in Hawke’s defense, but the mage put her hand up to silence her, and the Rivaini shrunk back in her chair. Her jaw twitched before she growled in a menacing tone, “That’s enough, Brother.”

Carver is many things. Strong, brave even, occasionally funny. But smart? Maker’s breath, Varric thought he could count on one hand the number of functioning synapses left in that moron’s brain. Too many blows to the head, he imagined, and it showed when that idiot kept going. “Even back home, what could I be? The lone blade in a house of mages? If I excelled, it would’ve brought too much attention.” He narrowed his eyes. “That was a waste, huh? Could’ve found my fortune if Bethany was going to die on your watch anyway.”

Varric grit his teeth and clenched his fists, the desire to pummel the fool almost too strong to ignore. That was the lowest of blows, even by Kirkwall standards.

Nobody around the table moved for what felt like an eternity, almost too afraid to breathe. They waited until Belladonna spoke, her voice icy hard, sending shivers up Varric’s spine. The air in the room had dropped several degrees, as it had at Gamlen’s house, her anger too strong to control. “You will not use her against me like that. She deserves better.”

“Then you should have given better!” He was on his feet now, glaring her down.

She slammed her sparking fists on the table, rising to meet his glare. “I gave everything! Question me, Mother, yourself, but not that!” A single angry tear slipped down her cheek before she pushed away from the table, nearly spilling a few mugs. She turned and stalked towards the door, growling out a simple, “Good talk.”

“Sister.” She froze at the door but didn’t turn to look at him, the air around her thick with unshed magic. “I feel… I don’t know. It’s like Mother, taking everything out on us. She was just scared. I don’t have a place in the life she is trying to bring back. I’m here if you need me, but I must find my own way.”

Varric heard the small tsk as she sucked on her teeth, probably fighting back some retort. After a short moment, she left, and Carver sat down. Everyone was silent for a long time, and Varric glared at the younger Hawke. Carver seemed to have forgotten they were present because when he remembered they were there, he cringed and tried to direct his attention to his goblet. Noticing Varric’s angry gaze, he scoffed. “What?”

Varric shook his head and pushed away from the table. As he rounded Carver on his way out the door, he let out a small, “You’re a real piece of work kid.” Behind him, he could hear their friends saying similar things, but he didn’t think they were following him.

It wasn’t hard to find her. There were only a handful of places she went in the city, and at this hour, there were only two or three of those she would go without backup. He found her after about an hour, sitting on the stone steps of one of the docks. She’d rolled her pants up and was sitting with her feet in the water. Or ice, as it were. She didn’t even seem to realize she’d frozen it as she stared unblinking at the Gallows.

He cleared his throat as if to announce himself, but she didn’t turn. After a moment, he took his own boots off and joined her on the step, albeit a few feet away where the water was still warm. The moon hung low and large over the peak of the mountain, encasing the area in a soft pale glow that seemed to turn her eyes to stone. He looked up at the looming towers then back at her. “You know, brooding is more the elf’s thing.”

A soft smile tilted the corner of her mouth up, making him grin in response. She glanced at him then, then frowned as if realizing just how far away he was sat. With a start, she looked down at the ice around her legs and cursed beneath her breath. She glanced around them, checking they were alone. With a wave of her hand, the ice melted into steaming water, and he scooted closer so that their arms were nearly touching. They sat there for a while, the waves lapping against the steps rhythmically, the moon glittering against the water. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse, as if she’d been crying. “She would’ve hated it here.”

Varric turned his head to look at her. “Bethany?”

She nodded softly. “Too many templars, too much crime, not enough grass. She would’ve liked to have heard our grandparents didn’t hate us after all but…” She sighed. “I don’t think she would’ve been happy here, at all. I don’t even know if I’ll be happy here. It’s not as though this life were everything I’d dreamed as a kid.”

Varric turned back to watch the water, mulling over what to say. “It must be difficult, things ending up the way they have.”

“It certainly hasn’t been easy on my liver, no.” She chuckled once. “Bethany would have many things to say about that, as well.”

“You’ve never really talked about her before.” Most everything he knew about the girl came from Carver. Belladonna avoided the subject like the plague, and Varric hoped he wasn’t pushing any boundaries by inquiring about her now.

Belladonna chuckled once, softly. “I haven’t, have I?” She dragged her foot through the water, a slow but intentional stream of electricity following her, sending a blue glow up their legs. “She was…” She struggled to find the words. “She was my best friend. It used to feel like us against the world, featuring Carver the Asshole.” She smiled sadly at a memory before her voice lowered to nearly a whisper, filled with lamentations and regret. “Our father was an apostate, as I’m sure you know. Ran away with our mother. When they had me, I’m told he was over the moon. Didn’t last long, though.”

“How do you mean?” How could anyone not be over the moon about this woman?

With a sigh, “Our father had been in a Circle most of his life, namely this one. So, he’d prayed and prayed and prayed that his children wouldn’t become mages, that they’d be ‘normal’ and be able to… I don’t know. Have lives? Get married? Have little non-mage children? Shit like that.” Her expression became overcast as she lowered her face. “But I remember. My first spell. I was young, really young. Four or five, I think. We were at the dinner table, and I didn’t want to eat my squash. So I electrocuted it, blew it up. And my father… the look on his face.” She scowled, sitting up straighter, turning away from him. “He was… terrified. Angry. Confused. I don’t even have proper words for it. It was like all his hope for this world just… disappeared before him. He started my ‘lessons’ that day.” She emphasized the word “lessons” with air quotations. “Namely, we focused on how to hide my magic and how to channel it so I didn’t blow myself or the house up. He wasn’t teaching me how to be a powerful mage. He was teaching me how to evade detection, to be ashamed of my powers.” Her voice had begun to crack a little as the memories flooded back. “Then Carver and Bethany came along. He had such hope for them. Maybe two of his children would be normal, would have a shot at a good life. Then, when Bethany was five, Father cut his hand on a piece of farm equipment. Bethany, ever the sweetheart, kissed it, and it healed, and I remember his face so clearly. He wasn’t afraid, wasn’t angry. He was…almost proud.” She clenched her fists where she held them against her arms. “She was brought into our lessons and they changed, drastically. It wasn’t how to hide anymore, it was how to do useful magic, learning theories and histories. Offensive spells, defensive spells, healing spells. Nothing I’d ever spent time learning before. It stopped being so much about the Templars and how to avoid them and more along the lines of how to be a good mage. And she was. A good mage, I mean. A good woman.”

Varric couldn’t help but reach over and put his gloved hand on her arm, giving her a soft look. “That must have been difficult.”

She turned her head to look at her hand on his and smiled faintly. “I resented her at first. I was Father’s mistake, but she was his greatest treasure. It took me a long time to realize he was just dealing with his shitty situation as best he could, trying to keep his girls alive. She was about 10 when we started being good friends. We took to studying together, sharing our thoughts together, going to town together without Father.” She laughed, remembering something. “There was one time, we were going to the bakery. It was all three of us kids, and I was distracted. A Templar had come ‘round the corner, but hadn’t seen us yet, so Bethany pushed Carver into him and tackled me into a bale of hay. That idiot spent the next 15 minutes talking to that poor Templar about The Order and Templar training so Bethany and I could slip away.” She wiped her eyes hard, one hand still under his on her arm. “She loved all of us so dearly. It nearly broke her when Father died, she just wandered around for days in a fog.” After a minute, she took in a shaky breath. “She used to tell me that she wanted to be a part of the Amell family, that we should be nobility, safe in our high castles surrounded by our money and our loving grandparents, a big, happy family. If she’d seen this shit, what we’d been reduced to because of Gamlen…” She shook her head, an angry smile on her face. “I don’t even think there are words for how angry she would’ve been.”

Varric regarded her a moment. The loss was evident in her voice, in her face. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of it. “It sounds as though you cared for her a great deal.”

Nodding, she moved so she was standing and stepped a few steps deeper into the water, letting her fingers drag along the surface. “More than I’ve ever cared for anyone, if I’m honest. When she died…” Her fists clenched by her sides, and she turned her face away from him. “Mother said it was my fault. Carver says it was my fault.” She took in a shuddering breath. “And maybe it was.”

“No!” Varric jumped to his feet and reached for her hand, a fire in his eyes. “You can’t ever think that!”

She scoffed. “I was the one who left Mother’s side. If I’d been there to help Bethany, she wouldn’t have…” Her voice broke and tears began to fall from her eyes. “I wasn’t strong enough, quick enough to save her. I did everything I could and still…”

A fury burst within his chest, not at her but at everyone else in her life who had ever allowed her to feel this way. Belladonna Hawke had only ever been kind and generous, giving her all to those she cared about. How could someone bring her to this? He took a few steps down and reached for her arm. She turned to look at him, the moonlight making her eyes glow like magelight, and his heart shattered at the emotion in them. “You did everything you could have. Nothing you have ever done has ever given me any doubt that you didn’t do everything in your power to save your sister, and I’m sure she knows that, too. Carver is an unmitigated ass.”

She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes seeming to search his for something though he wasn’t sure what. After a few seconds, she nodded weakly and turned into him, taking him in her arms. From their placement on the steps, he was almost as tall as her, and he wound his arms around her waist. Her head went to his shoulder, turned away from his face. “Thank you, Varric.” Her voice was barely audible over the sound of the water, but he nodded none the same.

They stood there for a long second, but not nearly long enough, though neither would admit it. When they parted, she looked down at him with a soft smile before she cleared her throat. “Well. We’d better get to bed. Big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The Deep Roads. Right. Varric smiled in return and nodded towards the city. “Let’s get goin’ then.”

He walked her to her door, a gentleman if ever there were one. A small part of him hoped she might kiss him again, as she had the last time he escorted her home in the wee hours. Not tonight, though. At the door, she bid him a soft spoken, “Good night,” and slipped inside with a smile.

He waited at the door until he heard Oberyn, her mabari, settle back down from his excitement at his master’s return. The road back to the Hanged Man isn’t a long one by any means, but Varric’s legs felt tired as if pulling iron chains behind him that grew heavier with every step.

Every step away from her.

Xxx

The next day was it, the big day. Belladonna was at his door bright and painfully early which in itself told him she hadn’t slept. In all the time he’d known her, she’d never been voluntarily up before the sun hung high overhead. She hadn’t come into his room, but she knocked hard against his doorframe and called into the darkness, “Rise and shine gorgeous!” a cacophony of hungover groans and cursing from fellow patrons following her words like an echo in the mountains.

He himself groaned. “It’s too early, Hawke,” he mumbled into his pillow.

She chuckled, and the sound put a sleepy smile on his face. “Tough, we’ve got to get a move on if we want to set out by midday.” With a sudden flurry of bright sparks in the dark, the candles all around his room burst to light, blinding him as if from the sun, and he cried out.

“Damned magic,” he growled, shoving his head under his pillow. She laughed again, but her footsteps began receding, and he knew she was probably on her way to assert her painfully sunny disposition on Fenris, who was also coming. Varric sighed heavily and contemplated the importance of the mission. Was wealth and fame really worth the agony of being up this early? Grumbling, he heaved himself out of bed and set about getting ready. Maybe not for him, but for her it was. And damned if he wasn’t going to do this for her.

The three of them met up near the Chantry, bags hanging off all shoulders. Fenris looked disgustingly peaceful and well rested this morning, particularly next to Hawke. Her eyes were rimmed with blackish circles from her lack of sleep, her irises even seeming a little dark. Her hair was clean but hadn’t been brushed since her bath so it hung about her shoulders in messy curls. She hadn’t even put makeup on this morning, the strongest indicator that she’d not slept. Vaguely, Varric wondered if she would even be alert enough to do this.

“Where is your brother, Hawke?” Fenris looked expectantly at their leader.

She rubbed her face and shrugged. “I don’t know. I told him to get up before I left, told him where we’d be.”

Varric quirked an eyebrow. “Are you sure he got up?”

She scoffed. “I would hope so.” Beaming, she jerked her chin up. “I threw a bucket of water on him.”

The three of them shared a laugh and waited some more. It was nearly an hour later, and Hawke was getting pissed, but finally he came stumbling around the corner, obviously hungover. He stalked over to them and dropped his sacks, glowering at them all. “Sorry I’m late. I had to dry my clothes after someone threw water at me.”

Belladonna snorted. “Maybe don’t be such an asshole all the time and I wouldn’t want to. But enough. Let’s get a move on.”

The three of them walked together into the Merchants’ Guild square. Bartrand was stood at the feet of one of the paragon statues, talking to one of his lackies. Hawke and Varric nodded at each other and left their bags with Fenris and Carver before walking over to him. Varric smooth-talked him into agreeing to let them join the quest, much to Hawke’s delight.

A few minutes later, Bartrand was in the middle of making his grand speech about virginal caves and deflowerings when he trailed off and asked who had brought “the old woman.” Belladonna sighed heavily, running her hand through her hair before joining everyone to look at the Amell. “Maker’s breath,” she whispered.

Leandra smiled apologetically at the dwarf. “My apologies, ser dwarf. I need to speak to my children.”

Carver, fuming, joined Hawke at their mother’s side. “Mother, no. We talked about how important this is.”

“I just want to know one thing—Are you planning on taking Carver with you?” Leandra’s voice was full of worry.

Hawke turned to regard her brother. The anger he held in his stance hadn’t dissipated, and she sighed. “I can’t leave Carver behind. I need him.”

Carver also softened, lowering his shoulders. “I’m going. It will be fine.”

“It’s not fine!” Leandra’s voice was almost cracking as she held back tears. “You can’t both go. What if something were to happen to you? You,” she turned to Hawke, “I understand wanting to do this. But leave your brother here, I beg you.”

“I said I’m going. Besides, if we’re so bloody afraid of Templars (Belladonna sighed,) I should go and she should hide.”

Bartrand, ever the pragmatist, walked over. “Well you’re not gonna be able to take everyone anyhow. You’ll need to decide.”

“It’s Fenris and Carver, like I’d planned.” She smiled at Fenris and Varric. “I need my boys with me.”

Leandra ran over. “Carver, I beg you. Don’t go. Don’t do this!” She was nearly crying now.

He smiled at her and put his hand on her arm. “Don’t worry about me so. I can take care of myself. You’ll see.”

Leandra said no more, leaving them then. Bartrand hurried them along to gather their things, but they paused long enough to say goodbye to their friends who had gathered in the square. Belladonna made sure to hug each of them, kissing both Anders and Isabela on the cheek. She told Aveline to take care of everyone, “especially Merrill,” and hugged the stoic woman a second time, tears in both their eyes.

They set out moments later, eyes alight with the anticipation of the future.

If only they knew what lay ahead, maybe it would’ve been fear, worry, trepidation in their eyes instead.

Xxx

The fires in the Great Hall had begun to die with the late hour. The flickering light from the torch mounted on the wall across from Belladonna cast a darkness over her face. Clearing her throat, she stood from the table and gave Varric a soft smile. “I think I’ll turn in for the night.”

He looked up at her and returned her smile with a gentility that made Cassandra blush. Taking her hand in his, he brought her knuckles to his lips. “I’ll be there shortly,” he whispered.

She leaned down and kissed his head before sauntering off, casting Cassandra a wary glance as she did.

Cassandra and Varric watched her go. After she disappeared through a door, Cassandra set her palm in her hand. “I understand now why you lied.”

Varric turned back to her, his eyes hardened. “Do you now?”

She looked back at the door the Champion had passed through. “You love her, that much is obvious. You were protecting her. From me, the Chantry, all of it. In your shoes, I might have done the same.”

Varric regarded her a moment before nodding. “You’re not mad then, I take it?”

She had to consider it a moment. “I am conflicted. If you had given her to us, things might be quite different. Though that is not necessarily a good thing, I suppose.” She sighed. “Things are how they are. I must accept it and move on.”

Varric stood with a nod. “I’m glad you see it my way, Seeker. If you’ll excuse me, it’s late, and I have a beautiful woman in my bed.”

She blushed furiously but nodded. “Would you tell me the rest of the story later?”

He smiled with an affection that surprised her. “Of course, Seeker. Good night.”

She watched him go, and as the door shut with a quietly echoing thud, she sighed, “Good night, Varric.”

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