Despite its appearances, a small, dark stone chamber befitting more a cell in a dungeon than anything else, a sense of peace fell into the room as a young dwarf sat idle. Completely relaxed in his stone chair, elbows lying on the arm rest as his fingers interlocked, he remained silent while he allowed his final words to soak in. It was all shattered in an instant however, a deceptively delicate looking fist smashing down on the table in front of him, causing the dwarf to jump with surprise. The powerful jolt tipped over the glass of wine he had been drinking, a meager gift to help loosen his lips and coax his memory.
“What is this nonsense?!” barked the one who had slaughtered the silent air around them. Her pretty face was marred by her infuriated expression while her short, black hair nearly bristled like a feral beast.
“Have I said something to offend you, Cassandra?” the dwarf asked coyly, his eyes unable to look away from the dents left on the wooden surface of the table. There was a great portion of his mind already imagining what it would be like if such power was directed to his face.
The question only provoked the ire of the woman more as her fingers dug into the side of the table, leaning closer toward the dwarf as she looked likely to spit fire at any moment. “You know damn well what you've said, Varric!” the Seeker snapped. “Another world, talking horses and a Magister?! Do you think I'm a fool? To accept this... this fairy tale?”
Adjusting his miniature trench coat, Varric did his best to get comfortable once again as he looked the human woman in the eyes and said, “Seeing as how you failed to interrupt me, as you've often made a habit of doing, I'd say you were more than a little enraptured by my words.” He paused for a moment, seeing Cassandra's eyes narrowing even more. It felt as though two small knives were already stabbing into his soul. “Need I remind you that you were the one who asked me if I knew the tale? The tale of when King Alistair and the Hero of Ferelden disappeared without a trace.”
Scoffing indignantly as she crossed her arms, the Seeker continued to glare daggers at the dwarf. “I wanted facts, something concrete,” she said, “not some fantasy made for the entertainment of a small girl.”
“I swear,” Varric responded, raising his hand solemnly, “on my honor as a dwarf, this is straight from the horse's mouth.” At that, the dwarf grinned a little, amused by his own bad joke. “While yes, I'll admit, even I was skeptical when rumors about what happened began to spread across the land like wildfire. But, as storytelling is my passion, I made sure to know everything I could, even if it meant learning it from the source.”
Though still looking skeptical and unconvinced, Cassandra raised an eyebrow in a questioning manner. She said nothing, simply standing there expectantly and allowing for the dwarf to continue. “My time with Hawke didn't just give me insight into his own adventures,” Varric said. “It also gave me quite a bit of discussion with Blondie as well. Of course, I could barely even get the guy to address the rumors, much less talk about them. But... after a few drinks, well, he starts telling all sorts of secrets.”
“An inebriated mage is hardly a credible source,” Cassandra retorted, her mood not improving in the slightest.
However, the remark only caused the dwarf to smirk as he said, “And what about the king himself?” The black-haired warrior woman showed noticeable surprise at that, amusing the dwarf even more. “Though, he was just as tight-lipped as Blondie was. Had to rescue the guy from a sodding prison just to get the few scraps he gave me. I even managed to get in touch with Oghren, you don't even want to know what I had to do to get him to talk...” Clearing his throat, as well as his mind of several unsavory thoughts, the dwarf looked back to the woman and locked eyes with her. “I've even tried talking to Commander Cousland himself. Sadly, he seemed to have made himself busy as of late, making it impossible to gain an audience with him.” He gave the Seeker a knowing look. “Right before he up and disappeared once again...”
Cassandra looked away from the talkative dwarf for a moment, appearing distant as she developed a stance of deep thought. After several moments however, she shook her head in disbelief, or perhaps confusion. “But... that's just... that's insane,” she murmured.
“Makes a little more sense now, doesn't it?” Varric remarked. “Though a rare few know the full story, the bit about the colorful talking animals, the main premise of the tale is something to marvel at. Just think, Ferelden's king and greatest hero visiting a world that not only has magic, but lives in a constant state of peace alongside it. Now, tell me how wondrous and inspirational that must sound to mages now fighting for their freedom. Something to strive for no doubt. Believe me, it wasn't just Hawke's influence that incited this war.”
The Seeker continued to look somewhat confused, as though unable to discern fact from fiction in the dwarf's words. “But still...” she murmured. “To think... a world like that... has to be impossible.”
Watching her, Varric held a look of understanding. It was the same when he had first heard the more detailed story. “If you have trouble comprehending it,” he said easily, propping his elbows back on the arm rests as he interlocked his fingers once again, “perhaps... you'd like to hear the rest, when the tables were been turned. And we learn how some emotions can transcend all boundaries... worlds even...”
“What are you saying?” Cassandra asked, looking the dwarf in the eyes.
It caused the storyteller's lips to twist into a smirk as he nodded and said, “It's one of my favorite philosophies. For any tale worth telling, its end is only the beginning of what's to come.”