So...this fic mostly exists because there aren't really any others like it on and I think Varric/Merrill is an adorable pairing. It's pretty fluffy and innocent, mostly cause I haven't taken the time to work out the physical logistics for them. Though...with enough reviews I could perhaps be persuaded to add a second part. By the way, if you can think of a better title, tell me. Because I'm not completely satisfied with this one. With that said, enjoy folks.

Sweet Nothings

Varric sighed as he set down his pen. The newest chapter in The Chronicles of Lucrezia Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, was finished and now accounted for their doings of the last two months, and of course some stories of his own imagining. He leaned back and stretched, the stiffness in his arms and shoulders receding somewhat. He then heard a soft knock on his door, which brought a smile to Varric's face. Only one person ever knocked so softly and politely on his door.

"Come in Daisy." He said kindly.

The door opened to reveal the slender elf, smiling and wringing her hands as she entered, "Oh Varric, how do you always know that it's me? Surely the others come to visit you as well?"

None as often as you do Daisy, Varric thought, but said aloud, "Lucky guesses Daisy, lucky guesses- Now," He closed the tome of Hawke's Chronicles and gestured for Merrill to sit down as he asked, "What can I do for you Daisy?"

"Oh, nothing special, I mean, nothing's wrong really, I just, well...that is..."

Varric allowed himself a gentle sigh, she was pretty adorable when she was rambling like this, "Take your time Daisy, I'm not busy." He said with a smile.

"Oh, you're not!" Merrill's face lit up, "So I'm not bothering you then! Good. I was just wondering if you had any new stories. You see, there's been nothing to do in the Alienage, and nothing I can do with my mirror at the moment, so I thought-"

Varric held up his hand, silencing Merrill mid-sentence as he said, "Say no more, I do in fact have a wonderful new tale for you." In truth he didn't, he rarely did when Merrill came by to see him, but she always became so enraptured with his stories, no matter how impromptu, that Varric was loathe to disappoint her. "But before we begin, can I get you anything? Feel up to trying ale again?" He asked.

Merrill simply laughed and shook her head, "Oh no, but thank-you Varric. The last time I tried the ale I had the most terrible time getting back to the Alienage, you remember! You had to walk me home!"

Varric did remember that incident very well, and he had been more than happy to walk a giddily drunk Merrill back to her house. It had given him an excuse to hold her dainty hand for a whole twenty minutes as they stumbled through Lowtown. "Well, something to eat then?" Varric asked, "You like the stew here right?"

Merrill nodded shyly and replied, "You neednt get it for me though, you always buy me things when I come and you never let me repay you."

Varric gave a dismissive wave of his hand, "It's my pleasure Daisy." He said, then gestured towards his favorite waitress, "Hey, Edwina, get me a tankard and a nice bowl of stew for the lady here. On my tab." He ordered.

The surly waitress rolled her eyes at Varric but went off to take care of the order regardless. Varric then turned to Merrill as he leaned back and folded his hands, his typical pose for beginning a story, and already a new tale was forming inside his head. "Well now," He began, "This tale begins on a stormy night on the Waking Sea..."

Two hours later Varric concluded a ghostly story of a haunted ship and a hunted crew, of which only the first mate and his elven love survived. Merrill was leaning forward on her hands, a wide smile on her face and her eyes distant as she imagined the protagonists walking off into the sunset together. Varric half wished that he could freeze her just like that. No one ever enjoyed his tales like Merrill did, whether they were ghost stories, romances, adventure tales, or even his forays into the raunchy (though he generally avoided those simply because he had to explain so much of the vocabulary to Merril), she always was enraptured by the end, praising his storytelling skills to the heavens and whatever dalish gods she named.

"That was very good Varric, I had goosebumps on my arms for a while there! How long have you been working on that story?"

Varric shrugged, "A couple weeks now," he said, he then patted the large tome still sitting on his desk before adding "Hawke's story tends to take priority over everything else."

"Oh, I see," Merrill said, "I guess she does get into marvelously exciting scrapes fairly often, and has a rather dashing way of going about them."

Varric chuckled, "That she does Daisy," he replied, "That she does."

They then sat in silence for a long moment. Varric could see Merrill was trying to come up with something to say, though if it was to excuse herself or stall for more time he couldn't tell. He opened his mouth to ask if she wanted to learn Wicked Grace when Merrill abruptly stood up, her cheeks tinged pink.

"I'm sure I've taken up enough of your time Varric, doubtless you have other important people to see, or things to do, or you maybe just want to be left alone for a little while, I'll just-"

"I'd love it if you stayed, Daisy." Varric interrupted, pausing Merrill's rant, "Would you like another bowl of stew? Why don't you tell me about your day."

"Oh, well, if you'd like," Merrill said as she sat back down, Varric could tell by her little smile that the invitation made her happy. "My day has hardly been exciting though, what with Hawke, Aveline, Anders and Fenris off at the Wounded Coast."

Varric signaled to the waitress before turning back to Merrill and asking, "Well, how goes the progress with the mirror?" That mirror gave Varic the creeps, but little else got Merrill babbling excitedly like the mirror did.

"Oh, it goes well! I recovered another shard that I could enchant into it the other day in the market! I think I'll only need another five shards or so, though I have yet to figure out if the mirror will need any more work after that, there really is very little known about these artifacts. And, well, since keeper Mahathari won't really speak to me anymore..." Merrill ducked her head down in shame as she finished her last sentence, but at that moment the waitress came and set two full mugs of ale down on the table. Varric frowned as this is not exactly what he had ordered, but decided to use the alcohol to change the subject.

"Well Daisy, sounds like a toast is in order for your diligent progress," he said as he pushed the other mug towards the slender elf. Merrill blushed and smiled as she wrapped her fingers around the mug.

"Oh I don't know Varric, it's just one shard..."

Varric shrugged and raised his mug, hesitantly Merrill did the same, "It deserves a toast nonetheless," he said as he took a moment to admire the lovely smile on her heart-shaped face, "to progress."

Merrill clinked her mug gently against Varric's and murmured, "To progress." And both took a sip of the ale, after which Merrill promptly set hers down while Varric took a longer swig.

"Finding your way around Lowtown pretty good now, eh Daisy? You still have the ball of yarn right?" Varric asked when he finally set down his ale, Merrill nodded fervently.

"Oh yes, I'm even starting to venture up to Hightown, so far I can find Hawke's new house and the market," she said as she pulled the string in question out of her pocket. Varric could see the yarn had frayed from frequent use, but it was also obviously kept meticulously clean.

He smiled as Merrill twined the string between her long, elegant fingers, he had often wondered how those fingers would feel twined in his hair.

Varric had received endless ribbing from Bartrand for not yet having found a nice dwarven bride (preferably one from Orzamar) to settle down with, or at least a "brawd to go with you beer". It wasn't until Merrill began her frequent visits to the Hanged Man that Varric began to realize that his feelings for the dainty blood mage (now that seemed like a paradox eh?) extended beyond protectiveness and friendship, into that realm that he previously thought was reserved for the raunchy novels he and Isabella wrote, and it wasn't until one particularly gruesome battle against a Lowtown gang, where Varric had watched Merrill collapse in front of him did he realize his feelings now extended into the realm he had believed was exclusive to the young and the overly romantic. As a self-proclaimed 'merchant prince', Varric had believed that the greatest joy for him was wrought from a hard-earned bargain or a hard-won battle, but now these moments alone with Merrill, well, they were more. He even-

"-oh, sorry, I'm rambling, again."

Her habitual phrase brought him from his musings and back to reality as Merrill began to wring her hands again, a habit he now knew meant she had something she wanted to say, but didn't know if she should.

"Something on your mind Daisy?" Varric asked gently.

"Oh," she said as she glanced up at him for a moment then back down at her hands, a slight blush now coming over her cheeks, she then continued, "I was wondering, just, um, actually I've been wondering this for quite a while, but I didn't know if it was proper to ask you, I know so little about other race's customs and manners..."

Varric gave her hands an affectionate pat before saying, "Ask away Daisy, there's no question you can't ask a dwarf."

Merrill then smiled, and looked very relived, "Oh," she breathed, "well, in that case," she now looked up to him, "why do you call me Daisy? I mean, I understand it's a nickname, and I know the flower, but, most nicknames have a reason don't they? I was just wondering what the reason for mine was."

Varric blinked a few times, actually taken by surprise by the question. Merrill asked him many questions, but never ones this personal or frank. He had to take a moment to craft his answer, "Well," He said, "because that's exactly what you are Daisy, a bright, cheery flower that can thrive in the city just as well as in the wild, a cute face that always makes you want to smile."

Merrill's blush went all the way to the tips of her ears, which Varric found absolutely adorable. After a few moments of stuttering Merrill finally found her voice, "I, make you smile, Varric?" She asked, "Or do you mean my being clumsy? I know it makes everyone smile a little when I-"

"No, no, no Daisy, not your clumsiness," Varric said as he patted her hands once again, "Just you. You make me smile."

"Oh..." Merrill said softly, her eyes looking down at his hands, then back up at him, a warm smile on her face as she replied, "Thank-you Varric, that's so sweet. I don't think I've ever had someone look out for me the way you do Varric. I mean, Hawke is great, she checks in on me all the time and brings me new teas but," she cleared her throat and gave Varric a sly smile as she continued, "I know you've been paying the gangs to leave me alone as I walk around Lowtown, and had Aveline talk to the guards in Hightown."

Varric found himself speechless, and it must have shown on his face, as Merrill chuckled and continued, "I know I'm oblivious, and I know very little about anything outside of the dalish, but even I can notice that I'm the only elf in Kirkwall that doesn't get hassled or pick pocketed, well, other than Fenris but I don't think anyone besides Hawke would ever want to fight him."

"Well," Varric finally managed to say, "I didn't mean to insult your intelligence Daisy I-"

"Oh no Varric! I am oblivious most of the time, I don't blame anyone for thinking I'm something of a ninny, besides, you're helping me, why would I be insulted? Like I said, no one has ever looked out for me the way you do. I know most people think what I do is bad, even when I don't use blood magic. I think Fenris assumes I always am but, if I can ever do anything for you Varric, please," at this point Merrill flipped over her wrists so their hands were palm-to-palm and she could curl her fingers around Varric's hands, "ask me, I'd be delighted to."

Although Varric knew perfectly well Merrill's words carried the most innocent of connotations, his mind instantly conjured images of her perched on his lap, slowly opening up his shirt as she said these words, which left his mouth rather dry and his mind rather unable to form a response. In the ensuing silence Merrill's mind jumped to her usual inevitable conclusion.

"Oh, did I miss something dirty?"

At this Varric could at least force a laugh, since she clearly had no idea how close to the mark she actually was this time, "No Daisy," he reassured her, "I'm just, touched," oh ancestors, that didn't help him and his dirty thoughts at all, "by your offer." He concluded, forcing the words out. Merrill however seemed totally oblivious to his discomfort and offered him a smile.

"Remember Varric," she added softly, squeezing his hand again, "whenever, whatever. You know where to find me."

Varric found himself squeezing her hand back and smiling too, "Of course I do Daisy."

They both then fell into silence, which at first was warm and comfortable, but slowly, as neither of them said a word or moved an inch, was becoming awkward. Finally the soft, shining look in Merrill's eyes became that confused, disappointed look she got when she thought she had asked a legitimate question, only to find her friends staring at her in disbelief.

"And Isabella was so certain that it would work too." Merrill sighed, causing Varric to all but jump back in alarm.

"She was certain what would work?" Varric swore, if that pirate put Merrill up to pulling yet another gag that she completely did not understand, he was going to have her kicked out of the Hanged Man, the last one nearly got Merrill decked in the face by one of the Crimson Oars...

"It's, it's nothing Varric, forget I said anything," Merrill said as she withdrew her hands from his and leaned back, in her chair, reaching for her mug of ale and taking another sip.

"Daisy, I promise I won't be mad at Isabella," Varric said in what he hoped was a coaxing tone, while mentally he detailed just how he was going to explain his outrage to the pirate. Merrill seemed to be considering this for a moment, then finally shrugged and replied,

"Isabella was very convinced that you were attracted to me, and she told me that if I offered to do anything for you in-exchange for all the help you've given me over the years, while holding your hand, she seemed very adamant on that point, you would kiss me."

Varric didn't know if it was the content of what Merrill had such said or the matter of fact manner in which she had spoken about her attempted, seduction seemed like the closest word, but he felt all the blood drain from his face and his mind start to swim.

"Hawke said Isabella should mind her own business, and that this whole idea was silly," Merrill continued, apparently unaware of Varric's discomfort once again, "and I'll admit it seemed like a longshot to me as well, but I thought it would be nice if you were attracted to me, so I thought it would be worth a try. Oh," she finally stopped mid-ramble, her hand placed over her mouth as if she meant to stop the words from flowing out of her mouth by force, "I probably shouldn't have said that last bit should I?"

The dwarven merchant prince was, simply put, confused. Staring dumbly at the elf across from him, he tried to rehash and piece together what she had just said, implied, and did in the last few minutes. Merrill, who took his silence for disapproval, slowly pushed her chair back from the table and reached for her staff. "I'll um, be going now, I guess," she murmured, not making eye contact with Varric until he jumped up so quickly he knocked over his own chair.

"Wait, Daisy," he yelled, and Merrill froze in place as Varric walked over to her, "Sit," He commanded gently, and she sat. Taking a deep breath, Varric steeled himself for what was quite probably going to be the most embarrassing moment of his life. There was no reason in all the the ancestors' or maker's creation that this elf, who was raised by a group of rather open xenophobes, was a powerful mage and didn't seem to have the slightest inkling about romantic interactions, would bear him the sort of feelings he had for her, but if there was ever a moment to find out, he supposed this was it.

"Daisy, Merrill," he said quietly after a moment, "did you want me to kiss you?"

"Why, of course Varric," Merrill replied brightly and without hesitation, "I've fancied you for the longest time, but I thought all dwarves just liked other dwarves so it wasn't worth worrying about, but Isabella kept insisting that you made 'googly eyes' at me when I wasn't looking and-"

Merrill got no further in her rant as Varric leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. It was a chaste kiss, and Varric began to pull back when Merrill's hands cupped his face and brought it back to her's and she kissed him soundly.

Whatever conceptions Varric had had of what it would be like to kiss Merrill were promptly dashed to bits. Where he had expected her to be shy, she was aggressive, where he had half expected to be tasting honeysuckle or clovers, she tasted of ale and spice, and when Merrill finally pulled back, Varric found himself unable to breathe, let alone think.

"That, that wasn't too soon was it?" Merrill asked shyly after a moment of Varric staring at her with glazed eyes. Finally breaking through his stupor, Varric gave her a wry smile and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't know Daisy, might need to investigate a little more to be sure," He replied as he gently placed a hand on her neck to bring her back to him.

"Well," Merrill said softly as she drifted in for another kiss, "I'll just just have to arrange that then..."

Fin.