Varric’s Secret Story

“Varric… what is this?”

Anders held up a loosely-bound sheaf of papers that he’d found sitting on Varric’s desk. On the front was clearly written “The Apostate’s Prostate: Tail of the Champion.”

Varric coughed and held out a hand. “It’s, uh. Nothing, Blondie. Just a little something I was toying with for my next book.”

“Your next book. Has this title.” Anders raised an eyebrow and flipped a few pages. Isabela perked up at that and slowly unfolded herself from her spot on Varric’s bed.

“Now, now. You know how I feel about people reading my drafts.” Varric grabbed for the papers, but Anders jerked them out of reach, eyes scanning the page he’d flipped to.

“Bloody maker, Varric.” He flipped another few pages and flushed bright red. “This is…” Isabela sprang off the bed like a woman possessed and peered over his shoulder, standing on tiptoe.

“Ooooh,” she crooned. “I like this one, Varric. ‘He slid his calloused fingertips up the rigid shaft of Hawke’s weighty member, sparks of electricity dancing. Hawke let out a mighty roar and pushed his devious apostate lover down onto the bed, where the mage giggled relentlessly, chest heaving.'”

“My chest does not heave,” Anders huffed. “And I don’t giggle!”

“Give those back,” Varric snapped.

Isabela snatched the papers from a rather flustered Anders and danced about the room with them, jumping away from Varric’s grasping hands every time he tried to take them back.

“‘Hawke was on a search for the mythical apostate’s prostate, and by the Maker, he would find it…’ ‘He may not have been a mage, but he certainly knew how to work a staff…’ Varric, this is naughty.”

Anders groaned and covered his face with his hands, blush now having spread to his ears.

“Rivaini, give it back!” Varric made another grab but missed, Isabela barely too fast for him. Her leap almost bowled over Hawke, who was just stepping through the door with a tray of drinks.

“Whoa, Bela! What’s going on?”

Hawke took in the scene – Anders bright red and spluttering, Isabela prancing around the room with an enormous grin on her face, and Varric looking somewhere between angry and horrified. Varric took the opportunity to yank the papers out of Isabela’s hand and shove them down the front of his shirt.

“Mmm, don’t think that’ll stop me,” Isabela purred, stepping toward the rapidly retreating Varric with a sway to her hips and a wicked glint in her eyes.

Hawke put the tray of drinks on the table and turned to Anders, who blushed harder at the sight of him, if that were possible. “What, exactly, have I walked in on?”

“Varric was working on his newest story,” Anders replied, sighing heavily.

“The Apostate’s Prostate,” Isabela called over her shoulder, grabbing at Varric’s shirt. Varric was doing his best to smack her hands away. “You’re on a noble quest to find it, Hawke.”

“The…” Hawke looked back at Anders, suddenly understanding the blush, and grinned wolfishly. He took a step toward Anders, and another, comically mirroring Isabela’s advance on Varric. Anders gulped and backed into the wall.

“Did I find it?” he asked Isabela, not taking his eyes off Anders, who was now soundlessly trying to form words.

“We didn’t read that far. Varric stole it back.”

Varric spat a string of curses and tried to duck under Isabela’s arm, clotheslining himself in the process. Anders stayed exactly where he was, with Hawke looming up at him, somehow.

“Well.” Hawke grabbed Anders’ hips and pulled him close. “I don’t know why I’m on a quest for it. I know exactly where it is.”

Anders and Varric made the same choked noise. Isabela burst into cackling laughter.

“Not that I won’t go looking for it again. Repeatedly. Every night.”

“You’re just encouraging him,” Anders hissed, trying not to push his hips against Hawke’s.

“If he wants to write, baby, let him write.” Hawke nipped at Anders’ neck, and Anders failed miserably at not moving.

“Not in my suite,” Varric moaned. Isabela playfully smacked his arm.

“This is good material, Varric. I don’t mind in the slightest.”

“Then buy me somewhere else to sleep.”

Isabela took one of the drinks from the table and tossed a small coin pouch to Varric, then settled into a chair to enjoy the show.

Varric fled, slamming the door behind him.

Hawke continued on his very noble quest.