@asyouwes
“Long time no see,” says the dwarf. Who isn’t really a dwarf, not by dwarf rules, but that has never stopped him.
“Hello, Varric,” says the man. Who is really a man, but should have been something else. A king, perhaps; a drunk; a corpse.
But fate has made them this instead: a dwarf who lives like a human; a king who lives like a commoner.
Fate has made them something else, too. Skyhold’s towers loom above them, promising, menacing. Wheels were set in motion here thousands of years ago that are still turning now; both of them have been raised up on the spokes of history and both of them know the time will come when they are cast back down into the depths. All they are doing here is putting off the inevitable.
“Cold today,” the dwarf comments. Kirkwall had little to recommend it, but he has to admit the chill runs deeper in winter at Skyhold.
“Hmm,” the man, who is used to deep winters, agrees. “Well, you know what they say about the solstice. It only gets warmer from here.”
“Do they say that?” Varric asks. “Who’s they?”
Alistair makes a face. “I should have known you’d ask,” he says. “Can we go inside? Skyhold does have fireplaces, right?”
Varric nods. “And kitchens, and even a roof!” he says. “Over some parts, anyway.”
The warmth of the hearthfires will stave off the cold for now, man and dwarf warming their chilled fingers side by side. They both know they are only delaying the inevitable but, for now, it’s enough.
