The reason the Seekers of Truth can’t find Aubrey is because Varric had sources who warned him the Chantry was looking. So she disappeared into the Korcari Wilds (either pregnant or with kid(s) in tow) while Varric headed back to Kirkwall to find out more. And of course, BS’d not knowing where Hawke is. So he could go back home a reasonable time after the Seekers left him in Kirkwall, so they couldn’t follow him back to his family.

12: ghost kiss 

//the hell is a ghost kiss? I’mma just go ahead and take it literally! 

It had been four years since her death, but still, her companions held the tradition. Hawke had taken to pestering the Maker into letting her take spirit form for the occasion. They gathered in the Hanged Man; even Fenris who hated the place. Giving each other weak smiles, the silence deafened despite the hubbub of the pub surrounding them. They sipped at their drinks as Varric absently shuffled the cards. He broke the silence in the best way he knew how; Hawke’s way. 

"Do you remember the time she came flying in here naked, because she’d somehow managed to be relieved of all her clothes while taking a bath at Gamlen’s?" 

"I might have had something to do with that.” Isabela smirked, her eyes flickering over to Merrill, who had begun to giggle. 

"One day, I saw her flirting with one of the guards,” she covered her mouth with her hand. “He was trying so hard to stay focussed on his post!” 

"I knew she had something to do with it when Thoms refused to take that patrol again!” Aveline rolled her eyes, but there was a smile on her lips. 

For the rest of the night, Hawke watched her friends with a smile on her face as they shared tales of her misfortunes, things she had done to stir up the nobles, anything to make the others laugh. They played Wicked Grace, and Isabela lost more coin than she would in a year; this was the only occasion she would fulfil her promise not to cheat. 

The night wore on, until finally, regretfully, Corff asked them to start clearing out. He was not without compassion; Hawke had livened up his many years at the bar, despite the number of tables and chairs and mugs that had been destroyed in her wake. Varric stood at the door, saying goodbye to each of the companions as they left, a smile plastered on his face. It fell as he closed the door, and he solemnly helped Corff clean up, despite the protestations of the barman. 

Barely aware of his movements, Varric shuffled his way to his room, changing and getting into bed. He lay sleepless, his expression full of sorrow as he sighed softly. Hawke watched, her heart aching for the dwarf who had never really let her go. Silent to him, she approached the side of his bed and bent, placing a soft, ghostly kiss on his forehead. He barely felt it as more than a soft breeze, but his eyes grew heavy in response.

"I miss you, Hawke." He whispered breathily as his eyes closed and he drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.  


To say she enjoyed a certain dwarf’s company would have been a vast understatement. She positively adored the stout writer in a manner that no ink on parchment could describe. But that never stopped her from reminding him on the rare occasion that he owed her good coin for the last game of Wicked Grace they played. 

Her boot heel clacked against the door to the Hanged Man, the usual sway and slow dip of her hips swished back and forth as she sauntered forward, intent on finding her equal roguish companion. The usual spot upstairs, no doubt, possibly pouring over missives of political intrigue or random scandal. Always the exciting nonsense he seemed to delve in, asking about it kept her day interesting and far less deadly. 

"Oh, Varric," she sang, moving to lean against the door frame of his… what one might call a lavish room, smiling sweetly at the dwarf who looked seemingly settled in his large stone chair, papers strewn and a thinking face wrought upon his visage. "How did I know that I would find you here?"

untamedchesthair-deactivated201 asked:

He hummed in his chest as she kissed his jaw. "Not poor in any sense of the word." He reassured her. The dwarf's hand went to lay itself over her smaller one at his lapel, so dangerously close to his chest hair.

"That’s good…" The ginger smiled wryly and pulled back enough so blue eyes could meet amber. Oh, it was tempting to play with the chest hair. But it was nice to have even this much. "I’m currently feeling like an idiot for not saying anything sooner. But you’ve been a good friend to me, and I guess…" She shrugged a freckled shoulder. "Basically, it would have been damned awkward if the silver tongue suddenly tarnished when trying to convince you that this right here could be fantastic." Oh, and that even more could be fantastic. ‘More’ being things involving just the two rogues.

untamedchesthair-deactivated201 asked:

Varric smirked. "With such a lovely, prestigious woman in my lap? Why, I feel as rich as the King of Ferelden!" Both of his hands settled on the armrests of the chair, though his thumb stroked her hip through her leathers.

"That’s what I thought…" Aubrey chuckled and leaned against Varric as she settled herself more comfortably in his lap. "Feeling better now?" She quirked a russet brow as small but strong fingers smoothed over and curled against the lapel of the Dwarf’s duster. Really, she should have said something sooner if it would get her into the finest seat in the house like this, Hawke mused as she brushed kisses along Varric’s jaw. "No more feeling poor in any sense of the word?"

untamedchesthair replied to your post: Out Of Coin

Orsino and Aubrey need to get it on. And by ‘get it on’ I mean spend evenings together in front of a fire knitting and drinking hot tea.

((kjwfnkfsijfshifsjisfhifsihsfkj Aubrey would be repairing her armour while Orsino knits. But she’d drink tea with him. u 3 u))