Act II
Cassandra wasn't entirely sure what she'd expected upon being informed that Her Holiness wished a more private audience with her friends. But she definitely wasn't prepared for the burst of expletives and sudden freezing air that blew her backwards when they were ushered through the secluded doors.
"C'mon, Sunshine, unfreeze him. He didn't mean it." A rumbling chastisement brought back a thousand memories with its words and tone.
"Oh yes he did!" another familiar voice erupted in argument, "Leave him, Bethany. Maybe the ice will cool his blood, randy bastard."
Cassandra easily spotted Varric arguing with the two Hawke sisters. And where there was Hawke there had to be . . .
"You rather liked him last time, Hawke. Remember? Something about an archer's fingers being so strong." The teasing ended in a laugh when Kirkwall's Champion elbowed Isabela. Hard.
"I really don't want to know about that." Bethany winced, shaking the ice crystals off her fingers and sending her sister a glance of disgust.
"No. You don't." An unfamiliar voice echoed the revulsion and Cassandra traced it to a woman in heavy armor leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. The stern conviction of her tone clearly spoke from experience and the implied reprimand actually caused Hawke to cringe.
"Do we interrupt? Or quickly sell tickets?" Trevelyan quietly asked with a glance to her companion.
"The Inquisition always can use funds." The Seeker deadpanned right back, her eyes roving the pack of reunited allies. Though they'd both barely even whispered to each other the conversation caught attention.
"Sourpuss! You delicious dragon slayer, let me look at you!" Isabela leapt off the table she'd been reclining on. The darker woman strode confidently into Cassandra's personal space until the cloth of her corset nearly brushed the Seeker's armor. She watched with playful challenge in her eyes as the warrior fought not to back up or shove her away. Abominable woman.
"Look but don't touch, Rivaini. She looks like she's in the mood to bite." Varric advised, also approaching and receiving a hearty greeting from Eve.
"Mmmm. With that mouth I'm sure she leaves a lovely scar." The pirate allowed a flash of her own canines, glance blatantly dragging towards the Nevarran's lips.
"And with your mouth it is a wonder they let you in here." Cassandra rolled her eyes, setting her scowl even more firmly in place.
When she'd first met the pirate she'd found her unbearable. The brazen flirtation, the clearly depraved and amoral mind, her dissolute lifestyle and selfishness; she was everything the Seeker was trained to avoid and despise. Unfortunately, she was also useful, talented, and damnably loyal under all that narcissistic indulgence. What time they'd been forced to spend together had gradually taught Cassandra a grudging tolerance for the woman that eventually turned into a truce. Neither of them respected each other but there was a mutual fondness – if only for the pleasure of trading insults.
"They didn't have much choice. But she did have to wear a cloak through the main hall." Hawke supplied with a smile. Hardly surprising, really. The sailor hadn't done much to change her garb and the amount of flesh visible was simply . . . unholy.
"The Chantry does have a long tradition of taking in criminals and whores. Isabela fits right in." Eve shrugged, bringing a sharp laugh from the woman still standing near Bethany.
"You say the sweetest things!" The pirate cooed to Trevelyan, finally slipping back out of Cassandra's personal space and brushing an affectionate finger over the Inquisitor's cheek.
"Isabela . . ." The Seeker knew this particular habit was a deliberate attempt at provoking her. The problem was that it still worked. Eve heard the growl of warning in her tone and swiftly took a step away from the teasing touch.
"Ugh, still only allowing the captain at the helm are you? Fine." The Rivaini pouted and returned to drape herself over Hawke, determined to be inappropriate with someone. Being anywhere near the Chantry brought out the worst in her.
"Glad you could join us, Inquisitor. Whatever romp Leliana has in mind has an interesting guest list." Hawke greeted, completely unperturbed by the half-naked woman now wrapped around her armor.
"So I see. You must be Guard Captain Aveline?" Eve approached the warrior who'd remained distant and uninvolved throughout much of the theatrics. Now she straightened, clearly taken aback by the recognition and praise.
"I am. How did you know me so quickly?" The woman graciously shook the proffered hand but couldn't conceal a grain of suspicion in her gaze. A natural guard.
"Varric paints a very vivid picture in his stories." Trevelyan explained, choosing to omit the fact that a dog-eared copy of 'The Champion of Kirkwall' never left the side of her bed.
"He got the hair color right. That's about all." Aveline shot the dwarf a sharp glance, an expression that Cassandra had felt on her own face many times when dealing with the slippery writer.
"Not true, I also quoted you at length. Your insults, threats, those wonderfully longwinded lectures on morality. You supplied half the lines in Swords and Shields." Varric corrected. Reference to the romance serial triggered a sudden burst of laughter and Cassandra realized – too late – it had come from herself.
"She's the knight-captain," the Seeker quickly explained her epiphany, "Honestly, Varric, is there no end to the ways you exploit your friends?"
"I prefer to think of it as drawing from life. And I only happened to use her for the cover of the book because at the time she was the toughest, tight-ass bitch I knew. I'll be using you for the next one, trust me." The short blond retorted with a grin.
"Damn it, dwarf, you put me on a cover?!" the woman's face turned a darker red than her hair.
"Calm down, ginger. It's a good likeness, very flattering and not the nude that Rivaini was trying to get me to use." Varric waved off the anger as easily as Iron Bull dismissed vegetables.
"Pity, mine was better," Isabela's sigh was petulant but brief, "Big girl, meet the ball crusher. You'll like her, I promise. She's like you but worse in every way."
"That might be the highest compliment she's ever given anyone." Aveline nodded to Cassandra in greeting, her explosive irritation at the slander to her person quickly subsiding. After years of association with the two insufferable rogues she'd clearly become accustomed to their offenses.
"Truly flattering." The Seeker's eyes rolled heavenward but she allowed a hint of smile as they shook hands.
"Good, that just leaves frosty here. Who's he?" Eve gestured to the frozen man that looked for all the world like an ice sculpture.
"I'm not sure. He startled me a bit." Bethany admitted, embarrassed eyes flitting around the room.
"He's a forward and obscene little bastard." Hawke supplied, still scowling and instinctively moving between her sister and the ice man.
"Fabulous, you're clearly a fan." Trevelyan nodded, turning to the rest of the company in hopes of clarification.
"Don't listen to her, he has a magnificent range of skills. A true artist." Isabela argued with a little too much memory in the wistful words. She leaned forward and dragged a finger over the helpless man's frozen throat.
"Either way, we should probably thaw him out for introductions, shouldn't we?" Varric looked to the younger Hawke, hoping common sense would finally prevail.
It was true that the mage didn't deal well with being surprised. There had been several instances during her brief visit to Skyhold where sudden movements or noise triggered her panic and she either froze or force blasted every person within 300 feet. It had been Iron Bull (of all people) who understood that she was still traumatized from her earlier ordeals; said he'd seen it with some of the saarebas that fought in Seheron. He and Dorian had helped her gain control of her nerves and reflexes – and undoubtedly scarred her in entirely new ways with their lewd conversations.
"I'll just release him then." Bethany raised a hand but was caught mid-gesture by Hawke's iron fist.
"He's not allowed to proposition my sister again," the Champion commanded, "Are we clear, Isabela?"
"Don't make it my fault, sweet thing. He only offered to let her see his tattoos. After all, he knows how you love mine." Isabela grinned, one hand resting on her hip, fingers grazing the elaborate design barely hidden beneath her scant garb.
"It's the way he says things." Hawke muttered irritably, clearly still bristling with protectiveness but also losing the momentum of her rage.
"It always is with Zevran." The haughty but dismissive words came from the far side of the room, yet another almost invisible door revealing the proud stature of Morrigan like a prized painting on display. A twist of her fingers and the frozen elf was released, his first breaths nothing but steam.
"Ah. I assume I upset someone?" he looked around, gathering his bearings with aplomb. Even with his teeth chattering Cassandra could hear the Antivan accent.
"No more than usual, elf." The witch sauntered towards the group of reunited friends and newly introduced strangers. Her eyes met Isabela's and for a moment it felt as though the whole room might end up in ice and blood. Then her gaze moved on and the tension broke.
Cassandra felt Eve's body twitch as if eager to move towards the mage but held resolutely in place by instinct. She'd never entirely understood the Inquisitor's fondness for the dangerous witch but knew the woman had suffered terribly when she'd left Skyhold. Perhaps it was simply because Morrigan was one of the only people who'd never looked to Trevelyan as any sort of leader, merely an equal – and possibly barely that.
"Well, seems the gang's all here. Now we just need Nightingale to tell us why." Varric looked around the assembled friends, enemies and strangers.
"Obviously she's planning some excellent debauchery to commemorate her last night of unholy life." Isabela winked to Cassandra, one hand trailing over Hawke's cuirass in a way that made the Seeker want to blush for them both.
"Or maybe she intends to use us as her honor guard? There aren't really a lot of templars left around." Eve couldn't help but think of the handful of lyrium-deprived men and women who'd straggled desperately towards Skyhold since the fall of Corypheus. The supply of their drug had been cut off, they had no protection from their corrupted red brethren and no purpose since the mages had been given safety. They presented themselves, sometimes one at a time, often in pieces of some broken regiment but always they came. Cullen had begun helping all he could. Medicines, rest, reform; they would survive and be humans once more but the Templar Order had crumbled.
"Can you really imagine Varric ever being given any title with the word 'honor?' Never mind the slattern." Aveline shook her head with a chuckle.
"She'll explain in good time. I thought patience was one of the virtues of your faith?" Morrigan settled comfortably into an ornate chair, turning it instantly into a throne simply by filling it with her own aloof dignity.
"Andraste escaped slavery, married a barbarian and raised an army to march on Tevinter. She wasn't sitting on her hands waiting for water to boil." Seeker Pentaghast corrected without malice. The witch was always trying to goad the faithful.
"Are you saying she wasn't virtuous then?" the dark haired mage mocked shock.
"She sat on more than her hands. Have you seen that statue of Maferath?" Isabela chimed in.
"It has long been rumored that she took a lover during the Exalted March as well." Zevran agreed with his dissolute ally.
"Lewd myth and gossip. That is slanderous!" Cassandra objected. She felt a hand on her arm, fingers gently squeezing. Glancing over she found Eve's concerned gaze. The Nevarran didn't even realize she'd been reaching for her weapon. A few deep breaths slowed her heart rate. She was used to Morrigan's heresy and Isabela's obscenity but having both in the same room was more challenge than she'd ever dealt with before.
"Clearly you've all enjoyed catching up, yes?" The amused words lilted through the air around them. All eyes rose to the main doors, finding Leliana as she walked in. A familiar silhouette behind her coalesced into the form of the Hero of Ferelden. Reunited at long last, neither woman was ever far from the other.
"Thank the Maker. You know this lot will kill each other if they're left alone too long." Bethany gave her cousin a look that was at once accusatory and pleading. Apparently being the only sane person in the room wasn't her favorite task. How much of her work here in Orlais had simply been babysitting their various allies? It would be a round the clock ordeal simply keeping Hawke and Isabela in line.
"Still better than when they're getting along too well, trust me." Solona tossed her relation a wink.
"Ah, our bard. More beautiful now, I think, than at the last time I saw you. Your warden as well. You are both a breath of the fresh spring air laden with blossoms. Love suits you well." Zevran executed a dramatic bow.
"And your charm has not dulled either, I see?" the former spymaster smiled to him before turning the same pleasure on all her friends, "I am grateful you came. We have helped each other at various times and now I must impose once more upon you all."
"Anything for you, Leliana, you know that." The Inquisitor readily shifted into a more attentive stance, warrior training snapping her spine to attention. The sentiment was echoed by the others present. Cassandra made a mental note that only Morrigan seemed disinterested in the topic at hand.
"Thank you. We have much work to do," Leliana stepped to the center of the room and addressed them all in her dulcet yet commanding voice, "The Chant of Light has not been sung in this place since the death of Divine Justinia. Tomorrow at dawn it shall commence once more and when it is complete – two weeks hence – I will take my place on the Sunburst Throne. You have until then to help me ensure the Chantry's destiny."
Ever since doing the last story I've been dying to bring Aveline back into the lineup. Hopefully I'll be able to keep her in character as the 'mannish, awkward, ball-crushing do-gooder' we loved!