Exiting Val Royeaux, Varric could tell the Inquisitor was a tad more high-strung than usual. The elf found no joy in their shopping trip, that was for sure. Varric decided to take it upon himself to give her something else to think about. “You know Inquisitor, you’re one of the few people I’ve ever met who hasn’t immediately asked me for details about Hard in Hightown.”The Inquisitor responded in turn. “Why would I, when I have never read it?”“Wait,” Varric stopped, “Seriously?”“It seems you’re not as famous as you thought, Varric,” Cassandra poked at him.“Do you just not like mysteries, or…?”“Varric,” The Inquisitor pulled her mouth back in amusement, “I am a Dalish First. I spent my time reading about magics and elven history, not works of fiction. Where would I even get such a book?”“I don’t know, you said you read The Tale of The Champion,” Varric shrugged.“Yes, our tradesmen do bring books back with them to share with the clan from time to time,” she explained. “A book detailing a heroic fight against templar oppression is very exciting.”“Well, Hard in Hightown has some excitement of its own. You see, Donnen Brennokovic of the Kirkwall Guard is chasing after the mysterious death of the Magistrate–”“No offence Varric, but a fictional story glorifying human guardsmen holds no interest to me,” She uncharacteristically interrupted him with a flat voice.“I see,” he said, as the group began walking again. “Well, to each their own.” The Inquisitor only nodded. “You could always ask more about the Tale of the Champion?”“Well, since you mentioned it, please do tell me about the Duke again.”“Right,” Varric rubbed his hands together, “So, as you know, it all started with a mysterious elven woman came out of nowhere…”
Iron Bull and his Chargers had claimed Haven’s tavern as their own that night. Their laughs, cheers, chants, and banging tankards could be heard from anywhere in the village. Amaris found the noise difficult, herself, but did her best to minimize her wincing from her table off to the side. She would have preferred to be in solitude, but at such an ungodly hour in the night, unless she wanted to curl up with a lowly candle, the tavern was the only source of strong light. The way they carried on reminded her of a rambunctious family. And yet, they were all so different.That was when one Charger in particular caught her eye. An elven woman with pale blonde hair. Krem, the Tevinter man and a few others were cheering her on as she downed a large mug of ale. She slammed her mug down and everyone threw their hands up, while the man next to her slumped forward in what must have been defeat. Just like that, she turned her head, and Amaris felt a tiny flutter from how beautiful she was. Beautiful… And Dalish. There was another Dalish elf here. Amaris threw her book down and nervously approached the woman, eager to talk to her, even if only for a moment.“Dill macaw Aneth ara, lethallan. I see you too wear the vallaslin of Dirthamen,” she greeted, referring to the bright green ink on the woman’s face.The woman looked Amaris over, and smiled. “The Herald of Andraste worships the Creators? How blasphemous,” she mused.“I am not the–Oh,” Amaris realized she was being sarcastic, “Apologies, I suppose I am so used to having to say that every five minutes.”“I imagine.” “I am Amaris of Clan Lavellan,” she extended her hand, “Of what clan do you come from?”“Boss!” Iron Bull’s booming voice came, and he soon took a seat at the stool between them. He himself was nursing a large cup of alcohol. “I see you’ve met Dalish here. She’s a mage, like you.”“Of course I’m not,” The Dalish called Dalish waved at him, using the same tone as she did previously for sarcasm.“If you are–sorry, if you were theoretically a mage, why are you not with your clan?” Amaris asked, but Iron Bull answered for her.“Dalish don’t have templars, so they can’t have too many mages in a clan at once.” Amaris was a tad annoyed; she had recently heard the same falsities from Vivienne. “Bull, that is not true. We…” But she trailed off when she saw Dalish’s face from behind him; that of anxiety. Whatever true reason she was away from her clan, it was not something she wanted to talk about. As much as Amaris wanted to correct Iron Bull, she did not want to make her fellow elf uncomfortable. “…That is, my clan, and most of the clans I know of love our mages. I am sorry to hear your clan was different, Dalish.”The blonde elf nodded, what looked to be in thanks for one thing but actually another. “Huh,” was all Bull said, and took another sip of his drink. Amaris was thankful he was clearly intoxicated, otherwise his proven to be keen Ben-Hasrath senses would have no doubt picked up on her rather poor, stumbling lie.“If you will excuse me, I think it is time I attempt some sleep,” she excused herself. “Perhaps we could talk more later, Dalish?”“Anytime, not-Herald.” Dalish winked at her, and Amaris felt her ears and cheeks grow warm. She nodded, and grabbed her book as she excited the tavern.
(I know this question was about all the Chargers, but I feel like Amaris would really connect with–and have a small crush on–Dalish in particular. Also, it’s an excuse to do some gymnastics around that BS retcon DA:I threw at us, lol.)