Fan Fiction: Dragon Age II

Things have been quite busy for me as of late, but I will admit that this chapter practically wrote itself before I even touched it.

Very little of what I post today is my own: it’s my description of the game introduction. So any of you who have played Dragon Age II may recognize it. The accompany picture I found on a Google search is an actual screen print from the game – I’m guessing that’s why it’s blurred.

Although I’m going to limit the amount of actual game cut-scenes, there will be times where I will need it in order to explain the story flow. Please bear with me at these times.

I hope you enjoy this!


The Interrogation (Prologue)

Varric laughed and sat up in the chair while Small Fry lit a couple of candles. “She does have the ability to get her point across, in more ways than one.”

“I take it that point was aimed at you for a while?”

“Well, she’s not one to take ‘no’ for an answer. She got upset enough and … well … I’m sure you’re aware of how the Seeker and I met…”

As the two guards carried the dwarf by his arms through the darkened hall, Varric Tethras wondered if royalty went through this. Not the being dragged out of your home in the middle of the night and brought to a place you didn’t know kind of thing. No, it was more that they had servants who did pretty everything for them – maybe even walk.

Black metal braziers lined the cold hallway, giving the only light in the area, which wasn’t much. The flames were weak at best, but that was probably the way they wanted it to be – whoever they were.

‘Well,’ he thought, ‘you’ve really done it this time. I wonder what story you told about who that intrigued some sort of Higher-up to request an audience.’

He would have asked the guards, but experience told him they would sooner seal his mouth shut – permanently perhaps – than discuss his current situation. Besides, they were having a time dragging his ass all over creation. He’d be damned if he would make this easy on them.

They finally arrived at an unadorned door. Because the guards were using both hands to carry him, they literally had to kick down the door. What an entrance!

Nothing spectacular about the room itself, then again, it was pretty dark and Varric had his head down as the guards dragged him in … and threw him in a chair.

There was a figure before him, and it sounded like they opened something – a book perhaps. Varric wasn’t sure just yet as he was still trying to get his bearings.

He raised his leather-gloved hand to his forehead. “I’ve had gentler invitations.” He chuckled a bit and shook his head to clear it before clearing his throat and looking up at his ‘host’.

The woman walked into the only light in the room aside from the light shining down on his chair. “I am Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry.” she said.

When she came into full view, Varric stifled a gasp. For a moment, she looked like another woman he knew – except for the eyes. And the accent. But mostly the eyes.

Cassandra’s eyes were hard, cold and hazel and they peered at him from a thin face framed by short, black hair. She wore copper/rust colored plate armor with the Chantry symbol on the chest.

The two guards who escorted Varric in were stationed just behind the chair they threw him in. With a nod of her head, she dismissed them.

Varric chuckled softly as he watched them leave. “And just … what are you seeking?”

“The Champion.”

He couldn’t resist. “Which one?” He feigned looking at his manicured hand as he said that knowing that it wouldn’t be understood by anyone who hadn’t already known -which basically meant anyone outside their circle.

That angered the Seeker and she rushed over to him, her voice agitated. “You know exactly why I’m here!” She threw the book she was holding at him. It hit his face and he grunted. It was more of a slap in the face than actually hurt. He rubbed his Roman-nose then his square, stubble chin. The book landed in his lap and opened to a section that had the symbol given to ‘the Champion.’ on one page and a drawn picture on the other.

It was the picture that caught his attention. There before him were the faces of all his companions from Kirkwall. No, that wasn’t entirely true. They didn’t know … not yet at any rate. He had to make sure that it stayed that way.

He hadn’t been thinking long – in fact it had been almost instantaneous. He was brought back by the sound of her drawing her dagger and the feel of its blade against his thick throat.

“Time to start talking dwarf. They tell me you’re good at it.”

It was only a half-hearted threat, he could tell the moment his heavily gloved hand pushed against the tip and she withdrew it. But she immediately punched it through the book on his lap, right through the symbol and barely missing his leg by inches.

She turned and walked away from him, letting the message sink in.

He quickly grabbed the book and lifted it up off his lap. That close call worried him slightly – she was pretty powerful. “Heh. What do you want to know?”

She turned back to him. “Everything. Start at the beginning.”

‘The beginning huh? His beginning … or hers?’

He looked at the book again and ran his hand first over the pictures, then over the symbol as he gathered his thoughts, perused his memories and tried to find a way to relate Hawke’s tale as best as he could without mentioning her.

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