Chronologically, this is probably the last chapter. At least, I don't have any plans for anything that would take place after it, but it's a very important chapter that directly follows Time is Short.
Calling
Varric was pouring himself a pint to steady his nerves as Dom scurried back in through the main entrance of the Hanged Man. The poor kid's eyes went wide, he obviously hadn't expected the dwarf to be up and about so early, and he froze, looking completely unsure of what to do about the stack of letters he'd been stuffing into his jacket.
"Did she tell you not to let me see mine until later?" He knew he'd guessed right when Dom glanced warily back out into the street. Damn her. Poor kid was scared shitless at having to choose between his two benefactors. Little did he know Sigrun wouldn't be sending him on any more errands after today.
He sighed and leaned against the bar, holding out a hand, "C'mon lad, I'm sure you've got other jobs today and I promise I won't let the wife know you gave it to me early." Well, at least that wasn't a lie.
Dom thought about it a moment longer before handing Varric the top letter from the stack. The others didn't concern him, not really. Though he had a pretty good idea who they were for. One for Daisy, one for the Hendyrs, and one for their son. Anyone else who was close enough to her would be with her now.
They hadn't talked about her Calling in a long time. For all the joking she'd done in the two decades they'd spent together about being dead, the closer this day had come, the less she'd wanted it brought up. And so he'd watched. And waited. And while he hadn't expected a big fuss, he'd at least hoped that she'd let him know, in the end, that it was time. That she'd wake him up, let him hold her one more time, to say goodbye and all manner of other sappy things that didn't actually happen in real life.
Leave it to Sigrun though to sneak off just before dawn after a long night of drinking and gambling and tall tales with their friends. Guess that had been a going away party of sorts, as she'd been rather insistent about everyone coming. Damn woman.
Varric eventually unfolded the parchment, and choked on a half-laugh, half-sob as he read her messy scrawl:
Varric, Love, write me a good, heroic ending, will you?