Varric didn’t believe he deserved the chance to feel love once more. Not after what happened with Bianca, the weight of that heartbreak still hanging over him. And not after he’d buried his feelings for Hawke, pushing them aside for the sake of friendship and loyalty. Love, he thought, was something meant for others and not him. But the more time he spent with you, the more he found himself falling deeper, against his better judgment, against all his doubts.

He didn’t believe he deserved to love. Yet every time he looked at you, he felt that old familiar warmth sneaking back in, like something out of one of his stories. The ones where the hero gets the happy ending he thought was out of reach. He didn’t know when it happened, but he found himself holding onto hope. It was foolish, but he let himself get swept away, his heart no longer his own.

A single flower is what he held within his hand when he found you with them. He had come to find you, rehearsing words he thought he might finally say, offering you something simple yet meaningful. But there you were, your eyes lit with affection, cheeks flushed—and it wasn’t for him. The realization hit him like a blow, the flower suddenly feeling heavy in his hand, a symbol of something he could never have.

He didn’t deserve you. Maybe he never did.