This series started as a way to get me comfortable illustrating different skin tones & to build up palettes for all the characters. But I’m finding myself really digging doing the quick portrait sketches.
okay varrics card went from the original, to the card on the left, to the card on the right in about ten minutes he just had the shortest existential crisis ever
Varric:You see that, young man? Respect. Respect for one’s elders gives character. Sebastian: I have character. Varric: Just because you are a character doesn’t mean that you have character.
Varric:(onSwords and Shields) It’s a story about her ambiguous relationship with justice. Cassandra:But the romance is amazing. It made me realize it doesn’t matter if I’m straight or gay. I’m just me. Varric:You got that from my book? Varric: That’s — yeah. That was positive.
Hawke: Oh, Fenris is out with Isabela. You know, rumor has it they haven’t even kissed yet. Varric:What was all that noise in their room if they haven’t kissed yet? That’s weird. Hawke: Stop listening by everyone’s rooms for sex sounds, Varric. Varric: Listen, if I’m not getting it, I wanted to make sure everybody else is getting it. Hawke:Varric, I mean it!
“Varric, you mentioned living in a fortress, not an entire castle.This place is amazing!”
And there she was. Hawke was leaning against the battlements, staring out at Skyhold with wide eyes. She hadn’t changed a bit, it seemed – same lilting voice, crooked grin and terrible posture. Her hair, while still a short raggedy mess, had grown longer, and it now dusted the base of her neck in feathery tendrils.
She was still the same messy, all-over-the-place Hawke that he knew, and it brought a smile to Varric’s face.
“It’s still a fortress,” he reminded her, leisurely crossing his arms and following her gaze. “See that area over there? That’s meant for trebuchets. And just across from us is the archers’ tower.”
“Wicked,” Hawke breathed, and it was such a Hawke-like thing to say that Varric snorted. She turned to face him then, and smiled. Her eyes were very, very blue. “Proper greetings are in order now, don’t you think?”
“I think you and I have very different ideas of ‘proper’,” Varric said, glancing amusedly at their surroundings.
Hawke leaned in close, an impressive feat for someone of her size. Despite being nearly a whole half taller than Varric, she had always been insistent that she convey her affections without bringing in a step-ladder, and watching her awkward first attempts had often sent Varric into roaring laughter.
Now, years later, she had mastered it. Their faces were close enough that their noses were brushing, and Varric could count each of her pale eyelashes, so very long and dear to him. She smelled of hot metal and gingerbread and the Waking Sea. Hawke smelled of home.
“Hello, dear husband.” Hawke whispered, her lips grazing his in a way that made his heart lurch and his hands curl into weak fists. “Did you miss me while I was away?”
“More than I could ever put into words, dear wife.” Varric smiled. He bumped his nose playfully against here, and they both pulled away. “I’m glad you made it out here safely. I was about two hours away from asking the Inquisitor to send out a search party for you.”
“What, and ruin the surprise?” Hawke exclaimed. “You Inquisition lot certainly picked an… out-therelocation, but since it’s a fancy castle I suppose I can forgive you.” She wiggled her gingery brows. “Adds an air of mystery to it all.”
“I’ll be sure to ask the Inquisitor to install more brightly-painted signs to guide travellers in the right direction,” Varric said wryly, and Hawke snickered.
After a moment of companionable silence, Hawke asked, “And how are the others?”
It was the casualty and nonchalance of the question that alerted Varric to the fact that she was not asking about the Inquisition, but of their own friends back in Kirkwall. For her own safety and their friends’, Hawke had ceased all communication with them since the explosion that had devastated Kirkwall, save for maybe Fenris on occasion.
Hawke’s shoulders had slumped very slightly since asking the question. She missed them.
“I have a whole mountain of letters from Merrill that I’m sure you’ll want to read through later. She misses you terribly, and hopes you’re remembering to eat your vegetables,” Varric said, bringing a half-smile to Hawke’s face. “Aveline’s doing a fine job as guard-captain, as we all knew she would. Isabela is… Isabela-”
“I heard she’s joined forces with our favourite Lord Trevelyan on the Waking Sea,” Hawke said interestedly. “Pirates and smugglers? It’s a wonder no one has shut them down yet.”
“What, and face off against those two? As if they’d dare to try,” Varric said, and the two of them exchanged grins.
“Now, where was I? Ah. You’ve got a little pile of letters from Sebastian too. It’s mostly just a bunch of sanctimonious bullshit, but he wishes you well. He also mentioned something about an ‘unpaid tab’?”
“Prick. Of course he’d hold onto that,” Hawke chuckled. “And… how is Beth?”
Hearing the naked vulnerability in her voice, Varric knew he had to tread carefully. “Sunshine’s happy,” he said, and she relaxed. “It’s a good thing that you bribed the Circle to allow Dog to live there, because everyone loves him apparently. It brings her joy to have a slice of home in there, though I’m sure she’d love to hear from her big sister.”
“Ah, I don’t know,” Hawke sighed, slumping. “Perhaps… I could write a small letter for you to pass on? A little anonymous thing that you could claim as your own.”
“That’d be more than enough, Hawke.” Varric said tenderly. She was bent down low enough that he could reach up and ruffle her hair, grinning as she squawked in protest. “You look good, sweetheart. I’m happy you’re alright.”
“Blame Fenris for that,” she huffed out between peals of laughter, batting his hand away with a giant grin. “He always seems to appear when I’m thinking of doing something stupid.”
She straightened, and the two of them stared at one another, breathless. Varric swallowed. Maker, how he wished he could just knock her off her feet and kiss her senseless. For countless nights he had lain awake, running his fingers again and again over the red scarf wrapped firmly around his wrist. He dreamed of her often, of her uneven gait and strong arms and the smell of her hair, and it always felt as though she was hovering over his shoulder like she used to, ready to give amusing little comments about everything while still just out of sight.
“You’re giving me that look,” Hawke said quietly. Her blue eyes were dark and tender, reflecting the heat that he knew could be found within his own. “I missed you too, Varric. I missed you so much it hurt.”
“I know, Hawke.” He choked out. She reached out a hand, the one that was only lightly gloved instead of armoured, and he took it.
“I came to Skyhold because of Corypheus,” Hawke told him, “But that is only partly the reason. Largely, selfishly, I came for you, Varric. Because I love you, and every second that I spent away from you was an agony.” She smiled, and it lit up her face. Varric had never seen anything more beautiful. “Let’s stick together from now on, yeah? Just you and me, like old times.”
“As if you need to declare it,” Varric chuckled, bringing her hand up to his lips in a gentle kiss before letting it go. “The Inquisitor should be arriving soon.”
“Knowing you, you probably left some sort of cryptic message.” Hawke said, because of course she knew him like the back of her hand. “Right then! Inquisitor Lavellan sounds like the scariest fucking woman in Thedas, so I can’t disappoint. Varric, I was thinking a dramatic entrance with the stairs - you could announce me with something really cool and casual like, say, ‘Inquisitor, meet Hawke,’ and I’ll come walking down the steps…”
As Hawke stumbled up the battlement steps, waving her hands around in dramatic depiction, Varric could only watch with a helplessly besotted grin. Yes, he was stuck in the ass-end of Thedas, battling an old foe to save the world, but wasn’t that the usual?
With Hawke by his side, nothing felt impossible anymore.
.
.
—
To go along with canon, I feel like Hawke and Varric have kept their relationship a secret (outside of their circle) up until this point in time. Filling their romance with longing looks and subtle touches fills me with so much joy!
Cassandra: you cannot sit there and tell me the Champion is innocent
Varric, having 1000 flashbacks all at once, including to the time Hawke decided to start a game called ‘strip fighting gangs at night’ where they’d scour the city for thugs at night, and the one who got the least kills had to lose a piece of clothing. Until they were mostly all fighting in their underwear and aveline took them in for 'Indecent exposure’: I don’t know if innocent is the right word
