Chapter 1

Seated in thought and alone within the main hall of the organization’s renovated home base, the Inquisitor barely had the wherewithal to acknowledge her isolation intruded. With the breach sealed and Corypheus destroyed, she found herself questioning what would come next. Naturally, the Inquisition would press forward with aims to restore a semblance of peace, preserve the sanctity of the alliances thus formed, and improve upon the lives of the peoples. But what exactly did that mean for her? No one had planned this far in advance. Her role was more or less completed, was it not?

“My lady,” she heard from an all-too-familiar voice, startling her from reverie. As Ellana raised her attention to the company approaching her from the main entrance, she realized that she was finally able to consider planning a life for herself. The Dalish apostate had spent little consideration on her happiness, having almost entirely focused her efforts on supporting the people of the land.

“Ah, Varric,” she cooed. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Is it?” He chuckled. “I do regret to intrude upon your excellency’s meditations...” There was something in his tone which indicated no such remorse.

The Inquisitor’s posture changed while she remained seated. She relaxed, placed her cheek upon a passive fist, and slouched in her seat. The diminished posture brought her eyes to a level at which Varric could make direct contact despite the disparity in their statue while both stood. She smiled warmly with her head resting at a slant.

“Please, intrude upon me,” she commanded.

“Nothing would give you more pleasure,” he quipped back.

“I have no doubt.”

The duo shared a small laugh at their preposterous flirtation. This meeting was not the first time the pair had volleyed such carnal suggestions. Those words, however, had always been the only thing to touch either of them. The world state as it had been for so long, neither felt their happiness had been of considerable importance, not when their efforts were better spent contributing to the betterment of the universe. With the changes which so suddenly created an overnight reprieve from immediate danger, both were silently eager to observe how their interactions might evolve, improve, and satisfy.

“What comes next for her excellency?” Varric asked coolly. His ability to switch between profusely base allusions and properly restrained conversation always had amazed and occasionally vexed his companions. The Inquisitor, however, found herself endeared to the dwarf for his confidence and the supremely comfortable manner of his personality; he knew who he was, and he enjoyed being himself.

“I am not sure,” the elf replied, slipping from the tension they had been winding up. “I can’t believe we’ve reached this point. I still can’t really believe it all happened. I’m not sure I even know what I’m supposed to do. When I was the Herald, I just had to bolster support, close some rifts ... What is an Inquisitor without a cause?”

“You still have cause. There is plenty yet to come. I’ve been considering the story that will come from all of this though I am not sure exactly how it ends. I was hoping we could discuss.”

“You want me to weigh in on one of your works? Is that really a matter you want me involved in? I am no storyteller.”

“No, but you’re the hero. Whether you like it or not, you are the center of this drama. It’s only fair that I try to involve you in the retelling. I want to make sure your feelings are all addressed, and your heart understood.”

This gesture moved Ellana. As ridiculous as the dwarf could be, she had long since seen his true nature. Beneath the rugged and glib exterior, she knew Varric had the heart of an artist and likely all the emotional sense and depth which usually came in tandem with such a disposition.

“I appreciate you looking for the truth,” she replied. “I know how much you enjoy a tall tale, and I thank you for not making me one of them.”

“Your satisfaction with my endeavors is all I aim for.” The weight of Varric’s statement landed hard in the Inquisitor’s lap. The tension was back, and pulses of electric energy raced through the room. His expression darkened, pulling her back into their easy routine of speaking in veiled phrases with double meanings.

The elf, in repose, couldn’t help but smile. She had grown exceedingly fond of Varric’s larger-than-life persona; he was nothing if not charming. Had his reputation not preceded him, mere moments were generally all the dwarf required to win over an unsuspecting heart. The curious part was that the Inquisitor had never actually seen him retreat to private quarters with company, even with his gilded words and pretty promises. She had begun to think he was all talk.

“I am sure,” she purred as she leaned forward in her seat, “My trust in you has never been misplaced. I can’t imagine you would begin to disappoint me now.” Each syllable came slowly, deliberately, through velvet lips and from beneath eyes lit with a fervor that had been stoked by intrigue for far too long without reprieve. The dwarf replied with an equally ravenous smile.

Then, using his words as a transport, carrying him from the door and enabling him to close the space between himself and his focus, Varric maintained a deliberate pace as he spoke further of her accolades and his devotion to her cause. Using words to fill the space required to carry him from one side of the room to the other was only one of the rogue’s many talents. The markedly careful combination of word and motion was one of the ways Varric’s tongue was his greatest weapon. He knew, however, that it was also one of his greatest tools. Any reader of his publications knew he had a knack for building pretty pictures, daring adventures, and tangible emotion; few knew firsthand that his art was more than just clever ideas and flowery language. He thought it might be time for the Inquisitor to learn some skills he had honed away from the battlefields. She agreed, though, without admitting so verbally.

Reaching the Inquisitor as she sat upon her throne, Varric swept low with a regal bow, letting his eyes scan from the tip of her nose along the lithe lines of her body, tracing every fold of the fabric along her legs and to the floor. At the end of his motion, he savored the imagery with closed eyes, a wicked grin creeping crookedly to one side.

“My lady, you do honor me too much.”