Edited: June 2024
04
Talia woke with a start; she'd heard a small noise and felt a presence in her room. Her usual dagger was not under her pillow, so she raised her hand, a spell on her lips, and she barely stopped herself from blasting the elven servant into Oblivion.
The young elf stared at her in absolute fear. As Talia lowered her hand, the servant looked as if she were about to faint. Talia recast the speech spell on both of them, so she could question the girl.
As she opened her mouth to speak, the girl fell to her knees and bowed.
To say Talia was dumbfounded was an understatement. Why was this servant girl prostrating herself in front of her? Hadn't they decided she was a demonic murderer that killed innocents and drank the blood of children? But then again, she more than anyone else, was very familiar with how fickle the minds of the masses were.
"I-I beg your forgiveness, and ask for your b-b-blessing," she stuttered.
When she stayed silent, the elf continued. "I h-humbly thank you for saving our lives. Your Divine mark—"
"How long have I been resting?" she interrupted.
"It…it's been three days, my lady."
Three days? Had she been unconscious that long?
"I see," she said. "You are dismissed."
"O-of course! Lady Cassandra will want to know that you've wakened. Sh-she's in the Chantry." The elf would not stop bowing until she left the room. As soon as the doors were shut, Talia flopped back down on her bed.
By Sithis, she'd hoped it was all a bad dream—but even in her dreams, she'd never been in a situation as horrible as this. Talia brought her hand up to her face to examine the mark. It glowed slightly, but it no longer pulsed, and the pain that accompanied it was gone.
She was in one of the cottages, presumably still in that small village near the Temple. Fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace and filled the room with a semblance of warmth, though Talia still felt the cold draft entering through small crevices between the wood.
Her pack was on the only table in the room, and when she checked it, she sighed in relief to find all her belongings still intact. Her Blade of Woe and Sufferthorn were on the desk, together with her throwing needles. Her archmage robes were hung over a chair, and her boots were neatly lined up by the door.
Before she went to see Cassandra, Talia first had to figure out how she was going to present herself. In the past days, she'd only been quiet. It could be attributed to the shock at being forced into such a role; they didn't need to know she simply wished to observe them. Talia wasn't stupid enough to trust these people—they thrust her in a cell, threatened her, called her an 'Abomination', and if what the young elf said was true, then she was now seen as their Savior.
What she needed to do was to turn this opportunity into something that would benefit her. But how?
She could present herself as a devout follower of their religion. She'd posed as a priestess of Mara before; it was how she introduced herself to Jauffre. Although the lie did not hold up until the end, she played her role very well.
She would make herself a loved member of their faith—and that was the easiest way to manipulate their minds. Talia could play the part of modest, unassuming, naïve girl, always looking to them for advice. And she would look pliable enough to convert to their religion, and truly believe she was sent by whichever Divine beings they worshipped. Acting gentle and kind would also win her points with the masses; they loved those kinds of people.
No sooner than she'd thought it, she cast aside the idea. Nobody would believe it, and it wouldn't do for her to underestimate the intellect of these people. Perhaps when she was younger, she would have been able to pull it off. But her skills had dulled over time, and Leliana had incredibly sharp eyes.
For a moment, she considered just coming as she is—cold, unforgiving and ruthless, but she dismissed it just as quickly. As a stranger to this land, they would never trust her with any kind of power if they thought she would abuse it, and she definitely needed power if she wanted to find a way back to Tamriel.
Acting kind and gentle could work on the masses, but likely not on Leliana or Cassandra. Talia couldn't say she was the Archmage, or any of her other unsavory titles. And she was most certainly not telling them about being the Champion of Cyrodiil; it was a complication she didn't need.
So, what to do?
The first rule about creating a persona for long-term, deep cover missions, she remembered Vicente's lecture, was to make sure it was close enough to the truth that you didn't forget it, but far enough that no one could describe you properly after you leave.
And the closest she could get to the truth without having to tell them about being a thief, assassin or mage, was that she was a Blade, and a mercenary from the Fighter's Guild. Someone quiet, amiable, content to follow orders and let others make the decisions, but won't necessarily back down from a fight. Polite, refined, kind.
She needed information to develop a more concrete plan, but it was a start. After putting on her battlemage robes and sheathing her daggers, Talia conditioned herself to her role. She stared at herself in the mirror; it had been a long time since she needed to put on a mask other than her expressionless one. Once she was satisfied with the genuineness of her smile, she set out to find Cassandra.
As she exited her cottage, a group of soldiers immediately saluted her. Unsure of how to respond, she merely smiled and nodded at them.
"It's her!" She heard one whisper.
"The Herald of Andraste!"
The Herald of What?
One of the townsfolk broke away from the crowd and went down on his knees in front of her.
"M-my lady! I ask for your forgiveness! I am but a humble servant of the Maker!" As Talia studied the man, she realized that he was the one who had stepped in front of Cassandra and called her an Abomination.
Perhaps now was a good time to practice. The Maker was obviously their god, but then who was Andraste? Talia touched the man's shoulder to subtly cast the speech spell on him. Deciding on a general religious saying, she leaned forward and spoke softly.
"The Maker judges all of our actions, brother. It is His forgiveness that you should earn." She gave him a gentle smile.
Sithis take your soul.
It seemed to be the right thing to say, for the man broke into hysterical sobs, all the while thanking her. "You shame me, Herald! I shall repent! Whatever you ask of me, I will do it!"
Talia mentally patted herself on the back. "Then do your best to serve the Maker, brother."
The Chantry was not difficult to spot—it was the largest structure in the area. The crowd parted easily as she walked to the temple; they seemed content to simply gaze upon their herald. A few, more daring ones reached out to dab a cloth against her, then quickly wipe it on their person, as if whatever miracle brought her there would somehow be transferred to them. Talia fixed the gentle smile on her face, even though she was turning homicidal with every step she took.
Once she reached the Chantry, one of the soldiers bowed to her and directed her to the room at the end of the hall. There were refugees on their knees, saying prayers to their god.
"Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide…"
"O Maker, hear me cry. Guide me through the blackest nights…"
Talia tucked away those phrases in the back of her mind. If she was to play prophet, one of those lines would come in handy soon.
She could already hear raised voices as she approached the door; it seemed that bumbling fool Roderick was back. All three occupants were in the middle of a heated argument, and she took the opportunity to send speech spells at them. She would need to figure out an easier way to speak with them, perhaps an enchantment, or a more permanent spell. It was a good thing she'd brought her research with her.
"—seem to have forgotten, Chancellor, that the Breach threatens us all. I will not stand idly by while it still remains." Cassandra was saying.
"And the prisoner?" Roderick gestured wildly at Talia. "Why has it not been clapped in chains and led to—"
"She almost died sealing the rifts!" Cassandra defended, and Talia's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"So we simply ignore that she is the most likely suspect?"
"Chancellor Roderick, you must be reasonable. Talia defended us, and helped us stabilize the Breach," Leliana said. "Those are not the actions of a guilty woman."
"Be that as it may, you have no authority to decide upon this matter—" Roderick was cut off; Cassandra slammed a thick book down on the desk in front of them with such force that the candlesticks rattled.
"Do you know what this is, Chancellor?" Cassandra said dangerously. "It is a writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn."
Cassandra advanced on Roderick, who backed up as she got closer. "We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order. With or without your approval." She punctuated her sentence with a jab of her finger to Roderick's chest. The Chancellor simply glared at her in disgust, but knowing he'd lost the battle, he left the room without another word.
Talia's respect for Cassandra went up a notch.
The warrior turned to her. "Leliana and I were not planning to announce it in that manner, and we have been meaning to talk to you."
"That most definitely was not part of the plan," Leliana sighed softly. "But we did wish to speak with you."
"I wanted to talk to both of you as well," Talia said. She already knew they would ask her to join the Inquisition, since she was the only one who could close the Fade Rifts. Talia knew she didn't have a choice. They could simply blackmail her, hand her over to Roderick and be tried for crimes she didn't commit. She could run, of course, but it would be impossible to blend into the background, with no other dunmer around. The fact that she knew next to nothing about this place also came to her mind. Besides, if this 'Inquisition' would grow, she could gain access to research and other means to figure out how to return to Tamriel.
Cassandra extended her hand to Talia. "You are our only hope of closing the Fade Rifts, and consequently, the Breach. Will you stand by the Inquisition? Will you help us?"
Talia hesitated slightly, before shaking Cassandra's hand.
"I'll do my best," she said. "For now, I believe Leliana has some answers to give me?"
Leliana inclined her head and left the room. "I will call for both Josephine and Commander Cullen, I believe they should be privy to this information as well."
When Leliana returned, she was followed by two other people. One was a blonde, stern-looking man who looked like he'd seen his fair share of warfare; the other, was a beautiful, olive-skinned woman, wearing a golden blouse with puffy sleeves.
"This is Lady Josephine Montilyet, our ambassador and chief diplomat," Cassandra introduced her. Talia shook the woman's hand briefly, casting the speech spell on touch.
"How do you do?" Talia asked politely.
"And this is Commander Cullen, the leader of our forces." As Talia shook his hand, she also cast the spell on him, but was taken aback when he stiffened and grabbed her wrist.
"What did you do?" he asked dangerously. Talia could only stare at him. Was he a mage?
"Commander—" Cassandra started to say.
"I said, what did you do, mage?" he repeated. Talia could have escaped his grip in various ways, but she refrained from doing so.
"Mage?" Josephine looked surprised.
"Kindly let go of me, Commander," Talia said firmly.
"Release her, Commander," Leliana said in a low voice. Cullen gave her a look before letting go of her. Talia refused to shake her hand, as much as the man's grip had hurt.
"I want an explanation," he demanded.
"Calm down, Commander. It is nothing but a Translation spell." Leliana said.
"A Translation spell? Is that why I can hear you speaking in Antivan and King's Tongue?" Josephine asked.
"I cannot speak your language," Talia confirmed. "And you cannot speak mine, so I needed to cast the spell on all of you."
"So you are a mage?" Cullen asked warily. "But I examined you myself. Solas did as well. There was no trace of magic in you."
"Perhaps Leliana can explain." She turned to the redhead.
"Talia is not from around here," Leliana began, then paused, as if looking for the words to describe.
"You said she was a half-ling. Born of the union between a Qunari and an elf." Cassandra said.
"Frankly, I've no idea what that is," Talia cut in. "I'm a dunmer, a dark elf."
"A what?" Josephine asked in bemusement.
"As far as I can tell, since no one has ever seen a dunmer before, I don't speak your language, there are other races I've never seen before; it can only point to one explanation: I'm in a different continent. Probably somewhere far south? Or west of Tamriel."
They all looked nonplussed at her explanation, except Leliana, who had pursed her lips.
"There is one other explanation, the one that Savith, the dunmer who came before you, concluded."
Talia gestured for her to go on.
"Rather than another continent. You come from another world, entirely."
The silence that followed that revelation was deafening. Talia was too busy staring at Leliana incredulously to see the others' reaction.
The Commander was the first to recover. "From another world? That's preposterous."
But Talia wasn't as quick to dismiss it. Another world, different from Nirn then? From Mundus? If Leliana had told her this earlier, she would have called her a lunatic. But it explained the foreign nature of their magic, the Fade, the lack of mer and beastfolk...
"How did she come to this conclusion?" Talia asked, cutting off whatever Cullen and Cassandra were saying.
"She told me it was the stars; she couldn't find any of the constellations, and the second moon was missing."
Talia was stunned, but Cullen didn't seem impressed.
"The position of the stars? That was all she had to go on?" he asked incredulously.
"No," Talia spoke up, and all four turned to her. "The stars and all other astral bodies have a large significance to us, to the people of Nirn. They symbolize the creation of Nirn, the escape of the et'Ada to Aetherius—I'll spare you the details," she cut herself off when they all looked confused. "The point is, if you can't find any of the constellations, it means I'm really not on Nirn."
Talia felt dizzy, the enormity of her situation was bearing down on her. What did this mean for her? For everything she'd left on Nirn? For the Guild, the Arcane University, the Brotherhood? She closed her eyes and massaged her temples.
What did I get myself into?
"But then how did you get here?" Josephine asked curiously. It didn't escape Talia's notice that she was writing everything on the vellum she was carrying around.
Talia sighed and willed herself to open her eyes. "I don't exactly know. I was investigating a portal, and when I entered it, it brought me to the…Fade." She tested the word out.
"Then, you were not even at the Conclave when the Most Holy perished," Cassandra said.
I already said this earlier, she thought, irritated. "No, I didn't even know what the Conclave was. Or what a Divine was."
"You can't seriously be considering this?" Cullen said incredulously. "Another world? I am willing to believe that the Maker brought you to us for a reason, but to say you are from an entirely different universe…that is too much."
Talia wanted to roll her eyes. He could believe that she'd been sent down by some unnamed and unseen divine being, but he didn't want to acknowledge the possibility of different planes of existence?
"Where was this portal supposed to lead to?" Josephine asked curiously.
"A plane of Oblivion…possibly the Shivering Isles." Talia let out a small laugh. "Not another world, that's for certain."
Or was it? Sheogorath was extremely unpredictable, and he was known to toy with mortals' lives. But Talia didn't believe he alone had that much power.
"And how can we be sure you aren't responsible for this…magical accident?" Cullen was like a dog with a bone. "You can cast spells; that means you're an apostate."
"I'm hardly a mage," she lied. "Where I come from, everyone is born with the ability to cast simple spells. But their proficiency in it is how you can classify someone as a mage."
"If what you're saying is true, then all of those people run the risk of turning into Abominations," Cullen said with chagrin.
Talia looked at him curiously. "What is an Abomination? There was a man who called me that the other day."
"An Abomination is a living thing who's been possessed by a demon. Mages are the most susceptible to possession, because of their connection to the Fade. They're very dangerous. There was one that wreaked havoc on an entire village, almost killing everyone in its wake." Cullen looked slightly abashed at his next words. "They sometimes have glowing red eyes, which is I believe, the reason they accused you of being one."
How horrific. And the mages were locked up simply because there was a chance that they'd be possessed? What kind of barbaric, backwater world was this?
"This…Fade doesn't exist in our world," Talia explained. "We obtain our magicka from Aetherius…it's difficult to explain."
"So…no Abominations? No demons?" Cullen looked like he was caught between awe and skepticism.
"No Abominations," she confirmed. "But demons? Well, it depends on what you classify as demons." They didn't have the things that fell out of Fade rifts. But as she thought of Dagon, his followers, daedra spilling out of the Oblivion gates…yes, it was a matter of perspective.
"What a strange land," Josephine mused.
There was no doubt that none of them would have survived ten minutes in Tamriel. If the appearance of a Dark Elf unnerved them, what would have happened if they encountered Khajiit or Argonians?
"And this…Translation Spell, are you telling us performing this spell doesn't even label you as a mage?" Cullen asked skeptically.
Talia shrugged. She wasn't about to admit she had developed the spell. "No, it doesn't. It's a commonly used spell back where I'm from. I do a lot of travelling, and I don't always know how to communicate with my clients."
"Clients?" Leliana honed in on her words, and Talia kept her voice neutral as she replied.
"Yes. I'm a member of the Fighter's Guild in Cyrodiil. We're probably one of the more well-known mercenary guilds in Tamriel."
The Spymaster's eyes flickered to Talia's waist, where she was keeping her sheathed daggers, and she could tell that she didn't believe her story.
"So, you're a seasoned fighter then?" Josephine asked.
Talia nodded. "I suppose you could call me that. I mostly work with daggers, and bows. Though I do have some skill with the short sword."
Leliana made a noncommittal noise, but otherwise, didn't comment on it.
"I don't know how long I'll be here," Talia continued. "If possible, I'd like to borrow some books."
"Books?" Leliana tilted her head to the side.
"I'd like to understand this place…the customs. More about Andraste and the Maker, as well."
"Why?" Cassandra asked bluntly.
Talia shrugged. "He's your deity, and you've mentioned the possibility that my being brought here was his will."
Cullen scrunched his eyebrows. "You believe in the Maker?" he asked incredulously.
"Why shouldn't I?" Talia asked in bemusement. It was true, that she didn't believe this Maker was the sole creator of this world. Nor would she ever worship him. But if Talia knew anything about gods, it was that they often existed, but not in the way people usually thought. For now, she simply didn't have a reason to doubt his existence.
All four of them looked inordinately pleased at her words.
"I would also—,"
"What I'd like to know is how you killed that Pride Demon," Cullen interjected.
"What do you mean?" she asked, trying to convey confusion. "I buried two swords in its head."
"When you stabbed him again, we saw you glow," Cassandra said. "It was only for a moment, but I saw it. Orange, like flames." There was a slight widening of her eyes. Sometimes it was better to leave them with their own assumptions of what happened. Of course, the orange light had been the glow of an entropic spell, but they didn't need to know that.
"Glow?" She asked in a surprised tone.
"And I saw you charge in there; you weren't affected by the lightning spells."
Oh, Cullen was a sharp one. She'd thought they would be too busy to notice that. Talia shifted deliberately and slumped her shoulders. "I was hoping you wouldn't notice," she admitted.
"Oh?" Cullen leaned forward, no doubt waiting for her to confess to being a mage.
"I don't like telling this to others, but…" she held out her right hand and slipped the Mundane Ring off her finger. "Here." She offered it to Cullen, who took it in bemusement and inspected it.
"Your ring?" Leliana asked. Cullen handed the ring over to her, and she too, looked at it in scrutiny.
Talia nodded. "I won it in a fight a long time ago." More like, pried it off Mankar Camoran's cold corpse. "It's called the Mundane Ring. And acts somewhat as a shield. It absorbs part of spells cast in my direction and reflects it back to the caster."
"Oh." Cullen looked rather put out, and Talia resisted the urge to smirk.
"I don't tell anyone since they mostly assume it's just a fancy piece of jewelry. It's saved my life a couple of times." Talia took a deep breath. "I'd rather people remain clueless about it."
Leliana handed back the ring. "Of course."
"And what of the glow?" Cullen persisted.
"I don't know." Talia lied baldly.
"You don't know?" he said flatly.
"I don't know what you want me to say, Commander. I've already told you everything I know and all I remember. I've told you about Tamriel, and my being a dunmer. What else do you want from me?" Talia allowed some frustration to leak from her voice, and as she expected, Cullen backed off.
"I—it's—my apologies." He rubbed the back of his neck, which had turned red in either annoyance or mortification. "It's been a trying couple of days."
Talia didn't respond, save for an annoyed sigh, and allowed the uncomfortable silence to reign in the room.
"It is likely that you will be part of the excursions around the area." Josephine changed the subject. "The masses are intrigued by you; we've already heard people declaring you as the 'Herald of Andraste'."
Talia nodded slowly. "I'm not sure what else I can do, but I'll help in every way I can,"
"Of course," Leliana said. "We will ask someone to bring you the books we have here at Haven. We'd also like to know more about your land, but we can discuss it at a later date." It was a clear dismissal, one that Talia heeded.
"All right." She inclined her head. "Thank you." And with those words, Talia swept out of the room. Glancing subtly about to see if there was anyone around, she entered an empty room and slipped on the Ring of Khajiti. While she was sure that she had played her role well, she needed to know their thoughts.
Casting an invisibility spell as a precaution, she took the opportunity to reenter the war room when a scout brought in a report for Leliana. Keeping her steps silent, she slipped past the door and settled in a dark corner. It was a relief to drop her mask, even for a moment. She'd forgotten how tiring it was to maintain it, especially one so different from her personality.
As soon as the scout left, the four returned to their previous topic.
"Another world? Really?" Cullen scoffed.
"And how would you explain never having seen anyone like her? Except the Hero of Ferelden, who has also admitted to me that she was not from our world." Leliana challenged.
"And how sure are we that you are not harboring her secrets to exploit it later?"
"Do not insult me, Commander. Everything I have done has been for the Most Holy, and all my efforts now are towards the betterment of the Inquisition."
"Forgive me, my words were ill-thought."
Leliana gave him a stiff nod.
"I admit, this is all a bit difficult to swallow," Josephine said. "But where she has come from is not a major concern as of this moment."
"Not a major concern?" Cullen asked in disbelief. "We have either a lunatic who believes she's from another world, or a consummate liar. And judging by the way she lied about her magic, I'd say it was the latter."
"What little information she shared about her world coincides with what the Hero of Ferelden has told me."
"Then let us, for a moment, assume there is another world. Are we not going to consider it a threat? A possible invasion?"
"Invasion? By what? Sending one Dark elf every ten years? We must cross that bridge if we get there, Commander. There is no point in jumping to such conclusions. For now, let us focus on the immediate threat."
"The Breach is our priority, and Talia is still the only person who can close the rifts," Cassandra said.
"She's good with the daggers. Taking out a Pride Demon is no small task." Cullen sounded begrudgingly impressed.
"But what do we make of the orange glow?" Cassandra asked. "I could not explain where it came from."
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck in annoyance. "The only thing the orange glow tells us is that she used more magic to kill that demon. It's more likely than the story circulating the barracks at least."
"That it must have been Andraste?" Josephine frowned.
Cassandra flushed. "It does seem a bit foolish now. The men talked about the orange glow as if it were the fire that consumed our Andraste—,"
It was so ridiculous, Talia almost blew her cover by snorting.
"This is getting out of hand. No matter what people say about her, she is only a person, even if she was sent by the Maker."
Leliana hummed. "We must be careful around her. I do not know who she is, but there is a lot she isn't telling us."
"Leliana?" Josephine probed.
"She was armed to the teeth when we found her." Leliana said. "Two daggers on her belt, two throwing needles hidden in her hair, a well-made bow, a quiver of arrows, and two more daggers hidden in her boots. These weapons aren't used by common people, she could be an assassin."
Leliana was smarter than Talia gave her credit for. It would be wise to be cautious around her in the future.
"Then she could still be—" Cullen started, but Leliana shut down his argument firmly.
"No, Commander. Even if she were an assassin, we've already established that she wasn't at the Conclave when the Most Holy died. She doesn't even know anything about our world."
"We need to have someone watching her closely," Cassandra said. "She can only maintain a mask for so long—and we have people around us who can give us an update on her activities and actions."
"We must also decide on how we will be dealing with this entire 'Herald of Andraste' business," Josephine said.
"She will be the figurehead of the Inquisition of course," Leliana said matter-of-factly. "The people are already rallying in her name. The townspeople have already accepted her as their savior, and some have already asked for her 'blessing'. It would be remiss not to take advantage of her influence."
"And are we going to risk the Chantry's ire by exalting what they consider a 'heretic'?" Josephine asked.
"The Chantry will denounce us, of that there is no question. What we need is to extend our reach and our power. Talia will be the best to recruit agents to our cause. The people will want to meet the Herald of Andraste."
"Then I will be going to these places with her." Cassandra volunteered. "If we need someone to watch her, it may as well be me."
"It's settled then. We have to go public with the announcement of the Inquisition," Leliana said.
"Leave that to me." Josephine nodded and wrote it down on her vellum.
"I will keep training the new recruits. Hopefully if your excursion goes according to plan, we'll have more volunteers in our ranks," Cullen said.
"And I shall keep one ear to the ground. We need all the information we can get. I've already written a letter to the Hero of Ferelden to ask if she knows anything about Talia." Leliana's shoulders sagged slightly. "Hopefully she will reply to this one."
Cullen and Josephine both took their leave, and Talia slipped out the door after them, contemplating what she'd just heard. She peered into one of the open rooms in the Chantry and, seeing it was empty, stepped inside and pulled off the Ring of Khajiti. She grabbed one book from the shelf and exited the room, pretending to study it—her mind elsewhere.
Leliana was a smart one—she'd recognized Talia's weapons for what they were, and how could she not? Based on her observations, Talia could identify Leliana as a Bard. The sweet voice, charming looks and subtlety? And her last comment about keeping one ear on the ground solidified Talia's opinion that she was the Spymaster. She had a strange connection to this Hero of Ferelden, the only other dunmer they've seen. In truth, Talia was hoping the Hero would reply to Leliana's letter, if just to find out what she knew about her.
Cullen was suspicious of her—and with good reason. He seemed to be quite anti-mage, based on their very brief talk about them. Perhaps some bad history with them? Especially since he seemed so awed that there were no Abominations in Tamriel.
Josephine was harder to read, perhaps it was because she seemed to always answer so carefully. She seemed very diplomatic, but Talia thought she would be the most approachable.
As she descended the steps, she saw a figure waving to her from the corner of her eye. When she turned, she saw Varric by the fire, calling out to her.
"You all right there, Red-Eye?" Varric said as she approached, patting the space beside him so she could take a seat.
After sending yet another speech spell (she really, really needed to find an easier way), she took the seat he offered. "Hello Varric."
"So, what have you been up to? Besides reading—" he craned his neck to look at the title before barking out a laugh.
"What?" she asked curiously. Talia couldn't read it, but the plain leather cover seemed innocent enough.
"What are you doing reading the Rose of Orlais?" Varric grinned at her before taking a swig of his drink. "It's probably one of the trashiest, smuttiest, romance novels I've ever read in my life—and I never managed to get past the second chapter."
"Oh," was all she could say. Well, she'd been hoping she grabbed a book about religion as she'd taken it from the Chantry. "I didn't realize it was that kind of book."
"What? Really? The protagonist even has the same name as you do." Varric grabbed the book from her hands and flipped it to a random page. "'You must stop squirming, my lady, or I will have to punish you,' Garren's mouth was hovering over her heated flesh, and Talia barely managed to suppress a moan as he dragged his tongue over her exquisite center in a slow, deliberate stroke—'"
The content of the book startled a huff of laughter out of Talia, especially with Varric's voice acting.
"I'm not sure how you could read this and not think it's a smutty novel," Varric said, and he paused when Talia looked away, presumably in embarrassment. "Unless you..."
"No, I can't," Talia said quietly, schooling her expression into that of shame. "Where I come from, we have our own language and writing…I never really learned…"
"Hey it's all right! There's nothing wrong with that," Varric reassured her immediately. "If you want, I can give you a guide," he offered.
"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble," she said.
Varric waved away her concerns. He grabbed a piece of vellum from a pile on the ground, along with a quill and inkpot and set to writing. Varric jotted down each letter and told her what it was and how to pronounce it. Talia stared at it, simply remembering the order by which Varric wrote them down, and resolved to write down the translation beside them.
"Thanks, Varric." She smiled at him in gratitude—and she was surprised to find that she actually was grateful to him. The man didn't have to go out of his way to help someone learn how to read, but he did it anyway. And he didn't even ridicule her for it.
"Always eager to help out a fellow prisoner." He winked at her.
"A fellow prisoner?"
"You didn't know? Well, I'm surprised the Seeker's even allowing me this much freedom," he said. "She took me from Kirkwall—she was supposed to use me as a witness to what happened during the mage rebellion."
"Can you tell me more about it? The Mage Rebellion, I mean," Talia immediately asked. It seemed Varric was a font of information about current events.
"I wrote about it in my book, Tale of the Champion." Then, he seemed to remember that she didn't know how to read. "But I can spare some time to talk about it, if we get dinner at the tavern," he hastily added.
Talia was glad for Varric's storytelling prowess, it distracted her from the numerous eyes that were on her while they were at the tavern. Plus, he threw in additional information apart from the actual story—what Templars were, how Circles were managed, politics within the Chantry, and most importantly, background on Cassandra and Cullen. Mostly though, he spoke fondly of his friend Hawke, and their misadventures with him.
Getting to know Varric was interesting, not because of what he said, but more of the things that he didn't. Whenever she asked the usual questions, he'd deflect it with humor. She allowed it, but only because his subtle reactions were interesting. When Talia had asked about his family, he spoke about his horrible brother who'd trapped them in the Deep Roads for a lyrium idol. He was blasé about the entire story, but he kept one of his hands under the table, out of sight, while during more lighthearted tales, he gesticulated wildly using both his hands. Talia suspected it was a way to hide a habit or a nervous tick.
His expressions never changed from amused and generally jovial, but there was a subtle shift depending on who or what he was talking about. When it was Hawke, his eyes would crinkle and reflect a fondness for the man. If their conversations turned to Cassandra, there would be a momentary tightening in his eyes before it disappeared as if it were never there. They also spoke about the mage who blew up the Kirkwall Chantry. At that, his smile turned nostalgic, and then deprecating, before shifting back to normal.
Varric, as payment for his retelling of the Mage Rebellion, also asked a few questions about her and her life. Her answers were evasive, and he never pried. Talia thought he was familiar with people who didn't particularly like talking about their lives.
However, he did ask one question that caught her off-guard.
"How did you get that scar on your eye?"
Talia's hand traced the line over her right eye, as her mind flashed back to what happened—Ungolim's dead body, Lucien's furious face, his dagger glinting in the moonlight, her howls of pain amidst his unforgiving words. And when he realized she knew nothing—the hint of panic in his voice, the desperation in his kiss, the warmth of a healing spell…
"Training accident," she kept her voice light, but she knew her mask had slipped, and she was sure Varric had noticed. "I'm pretty clumsy with a blade. I didn't manage to block on time."
"Someone must've healed you if you can still see out of that eye," Varric mused. "Why keep the scar?"
"A reminder," Talia echoed the words she'd told Lucien. Of what you're capable of. The last part went unsaid, but he had understood it anyway.
When she said no more, Varric changed their conversation back to a lighter topic. "Speaking of scars, there was this one time Hawke…"
When she'd returned to her cottage, her mind was pounding with all the information she gathered for the day. It didn't help that she had allowed herself to think about her Speaker. She couldn't break away from the memories, and it left her distracted for the rest of her conversation with Varric. It frustrated her that even after everything he still retained his power over her, that he could still affect her from the grave.
Accepting that she wouldn't be able to get any sleep for the night, she caged her mind against the onslaught of memories and looked for something to distract her. She grabbed the research book she'd brought with her and studied the guide Varric had given her, resolving to find a way to overcome the language barrier.
All the while, Lucien lurked at the back of her mind, haunting her every move.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! I appreciate all the feedback I've received.