Chapter Text
Hawke looked absolutely nothing like she’d imagined. Cold fury roared through her as she made her way across the ballustrade to where Varric and Marian stood laughing. The bastard had mocked her. She’d kill him this time for this last insult. She’d add it to the long list of insults.
As she ran through he retelling of the Tale of the Champion and what she remembered of the book itself, her ground consuming stride slowed. Faltering to a stop she realized, he hadn’t actually given her any physical details of Hawke’s appearance.
He’d painted her actions and character in broad strokes, detailing the person without ascribing a single physical detail. Masterfully telling the truth without allowing Hawke’s pursuers any information that they could draw on to find her visually.
She flushed realizing she’d patterned Hawke’s appearance after her brother, Antony. Made Marion the same rough height and warrior’s frame, gave her dark, straight hair; as well as sharp blue eyes that saw to the heart of things. For some reason, she’d added the warpaint detail too.
Digging further back in her memories, she recalled a tale Antony had read her after their parents had died. The fierce Nevarran dragon hunters, (would there be any other kind), after having bested a dangerously sly Frostback, dipped their thumbs in the blood of their slain enemy and brushed it across their foreheads as a sign of their triumph. She had so loved Antony’s stories, this one had rooted itself in her subconscious and given her hero the same.
In reality her hero was almost of the same height as the dwarf himself, almost as stocky, with a riot of curly brown hair and eyes of vibrant green. Her bright, contagious laughter pulled Cassandra out of her contemplative state.
Laughing a bit at herself, she caught Varric looking over at her, nervous smile on his face. Returning his smile with a grin of her own, Cassandra resumed her walk to meet her hero.