"A good story, you don't really write. It was always there. You just uncover it."
-Varric Tethras

The dining hall of Skyhold was lively as plates, goblets and utensils created a chiming rhythm. The golden statues sent from Orlais shimmered in the colorful light casting down upon them from the stained-glass windows. The twenty-foot carvings depicted two blind-folded women that held a scale in their right hands, with an eagle on their arms.

Naomi's focus drifted to the metal flames of the Andrastian throne that sat in between them - a gift from a noble.

"More like a favor owed…"

"Inquisitor, this is going to take twice as long if you don't pay attention." Varric grumbled, "Kirkwall isn't going to run itself and I do have a due date. All of Thedas is waiting on this book."

She snapped her attention back to the dwarf across the table.

"Apologies." She cleared her throat, "You'll understand why I'm hesitant. 'Sides, I'm no lass for poetry. There're a hundred words yeh may use to call the sky blue, but to me, it's just blue."

"It's only blue thanks to you, Spitfire." He took a sip of his wine, "That's the story we need to tell, don't you think?"

"Ah, that the only part you want to write about? Why didn't yeh say so, mate? I'd gladly tell the tale of the Breach." She gave him a fake, overenthusiastic smile.

It earned her a blank stare. Naomi rolled her eyes, leaning her chin into her palm.

"You signed a contract without reading it-"

"While drunk!" She interrupted to defend herself.

"-and that's not my problem. Also, I have a feeling you want to get some of this off your chest." Varric's quill impatiently tapped against the table.

"A'right, a'right. One question, if you'll hear it." She took a sip of her flagon.

"Go on…"

"What if there're some truths that some would find rather…heretical?"

"'Heretical'…Are we talking about Thedas-shattering, scholar-flocking, would-earn-you-a-stern-lecture-from-Cassandra-for-publishing, kind of 'heretical?'" His eyes were lit with excitement.

"Aye, that'd be the sort."

"Perfect."

Naomi rubbed the back of her neck.

"Hah, that's cute. Curly does that, too. See you've picked it up from him." Varric winked at her.

"What?"

"Cullen. He rubs the back of his neck when he's nervous."

Her hand immediately returned to her drink, as if caught doing something wrong.

"Hop off it…" She slid the rest of her flagon's contents down her throat, "You're so pressed to publish this mess and yeh haven't even decided on a title, last I heard."

"Last you heard." He lifted a page in his hand, "Some 'Assassin' you are."

It was decorated with intricate flowers, framing detailed letters sprawled through the middle. He put it back down on the table.

"So, let's get started. I've already got the other side of the story from you-know-who...and the others."

"Ugh…" Naomi moaned, "I'll do it…But I'll need more of…whatever this is." She shook her empty drinking vessel at him.

Varric snatched it from her hands, "Fine."

She watched him depart towards the door that led to the cellar, and a thought crossed her mind.

"Varric?"

He turned to her, "What?"

"Maybe two?"

He didn't answer as he slammed the wooden door behind him.

"Outta' bring the whole damned keg up." She took a deep breath, twisting the ring on her finger, "Would certainly save us a few trips."

She eyed the face-down page on Varric's side of the table. Looking around to see if anyone was watching, she gently picked it up, turning it towards her so she could read it:

"The Howling Rift"

Author's Notes:

1. The chapters get longer as the story progresses.

2. My style in writing has changed over the last year. Newer chapters will be significantly more refined than the older ones.

3. Disclaimer: THIS FAN FICTION IS EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY!