Cassandra;

The woman had been insufferable for weeks now, always watching with those catlike eyes. She'd even started to chat to Varric and the soldiers, occasionally laughing or smiling with them. Not that merriment was a crime, but it was infuriating when the woman's demeanor shifted from aloof to predatory, alarming even. Cassandra could practically feel the daggers Raen was sinking into her back from across the camp. Raen had been infuriated since their meeting with the Divine because Justinia had ambushed the woman with a plan to make her Inquisitor, a long-dead and completely unsuitable title for the cold and intemperate mage. Raen's response had been somewhat abrupt; "What the fuck? Are you insane? Just because I've got a glowing green palm doesn't mean I'm going to be the Herald of some batty skank in the sky and her omnipotent husband. No. But it had echoed Cassandra's own response most accurately. Raen failed to realise that the Divine had not seen it fit to tell Cassandra, her right hand, the plan and they were very much in the same undesirable boat.

Yet the mage had settled eventually, and she had never actually voiced her discontent, only made it sufficiently felt. The interrogation had been ultimately fruitful, despite Raen's insistence on playing games. What a long way to come, from a bastard living in the servant's quarters to the prospective leader of the Inquisition sanctioned by the Divine herself. Whatever the Divine, and indeed whatever Varric and the rest of the soldiers saw in her was unclear to Cassandra, and it seemed just as unclear to Raen.

"Where are you from, Seeker? Orlais?" Raen's yellow eyes glowed in the firelight, they were the only people awake and Cassandra could hear the dwarf was snoring softly in his tent. She had expected an aggressively silent evening.

"Nevarra, but I've spent most of my life in Orlais." There was nothing left for her in Nevarra, not since Anthony was murdered. She was loyal to the Divine and she would do her duty, which was all that mattered.

"And you really do believe in all this then? Not Andraste and all that, I mean the Inquisition."

"I believe in justice. If the Divine says the Inquisition can see it done, who am I to argue? And I do believe in Andraste and all that, as you say. The righteous stand before the darkness, and the Maker shall guide their hand." Cassandra replied, slightly aghast that the woman could communicate in a manner unlike that of a criminal.

"So you're saying even if you disagreed with the Divine, you would not be so presumptuous as to argue with her. That hasn't really answered the question; do you, Seeker, believe the Inquisition can, as you put it a few days ago, 'find those responsible for the Breach and restore order'?" The other woman had stopped sharpening her blades long enough to wait for Cassandra's response, and while the question was phrased in a vaguely insulting manner, it seemed sincere.

"Are you interrogating me now?" The woman smiled at that, her smiles made her look like just a girl, she couldn't be more than one and twenty. "If I didn't see the merit in it, I would not be dragging you across Thedas, I'd have given you and Varric both what you wanted and dropped you at a Tavern somewhere." They had been avoiding taverns and inns on the road, opting for the safer, yet far less comfortable option; tents.

"There's still time", Raen mused, running a finger absentmindedly along the longest of her small collection of daggers.

"I'll remember that next time Varric starts telling you about the Champion." Cassandra laughed, perhaps this mage was not as black hearted as she had believed, and she even reminded her of her brother. They had the same devilish grin. Memories fluttered about the flames as she Seeker stared into them, memories of family, of betrayal. Yet sulking would not help the matter. "Can I ask you a question now?" the Seeker stretched out her legs, making the leather straps on her greaves creak.

"You haven't had enough of asking me personal questions? Not that I minded the interrogation, you wouldn't really want a mass-murdering blood mage as the face of the Inquisition and I appreciated the 'good Templar, bad Templar' act with Varric, that was a touch of genius, Seeker." She smirked, so the girl was not stupid either, "Wouldn't you prefer to know as little as possible?" Her lighthearted tone was undercut by something… different as she continued, "I know I would."

"I watched you curse in front of the Divine, I don't think the answer to my question will be so shocking. I already asked how you got your scars though I sincerely did not appreciate the snide demonstration nor the unnecessary nudity at the time, I just noticed a new one. What happened there? As you say, I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to lead men and women unless I can attest personally to your character."

"And asking about scars helps, does it?" The woman was still laughing from the recollection of her most singular demonstration of how to offend a Seeker's sensibilities. It would have been difficult not to be enraged at the insolence of undressing oneself while being interrogated, had the words the woman spoke as she pointed at each and every scar covering her body had not been so perturbing. The Seeker had not told Varric or the Divine, in their private meeting after Raen's spirited outburst; how exactly the woman had received the marks- she had left most details out, or attributed them all to danger upon the high seas.

"That was Varric's idea, he said if I remember correctly, 'it always leads to a good story'. I am sorry that he was wrong for the most part." The Seeker had not known what to say to the naked girl as she sat back down with her legs folded and slipped her tattered shirt back on. They had offered her other clothes, but at the time she refused them and even at present, every now and then Varric would laugh at camp, for no apparent reason, and Cassandra knew exactly why.

"Only for the most part." Her eyes blazed with silent laughter, or perhaps just the flickering light. "I suppose you mean my neck; you can only see it when it shines in the light. Well, which story would you like; I was exceptionally brief before so you can have the short version, the long version, the lie or the truth. Take your pick."

"Have you given anything but the truth, thus far?" the prospect warranted concern.

"Only different versions, the short ones mostly, though if it was Varric who had asked, I'd give him the humorous one, only because he seems to need it." She was insightful, beneath the roughness of her appearance.

"I'll take the truth in whatever length you see fit." The Seeker was hoping it was the long version, and a pleasant story, another about a battle upon the Amaranthine Ocean, the sort that Varric would tell to fill in the long hours while waiting for dawn.

"You will recall I mentioned Dante before, his… talents… did not only consist of hot or cool pokers, wooden swords and wet sheets. He had tried once before, but let me go, because he was frightened his father would see, I think. He… strung me up, thought it was a surefire way to get me to show him I was a mage, I suppose."

"Did someone cut you down?" The mage had said, proudly, during the interrogation that she had never showed her brother her magic and that had caused him to become more creative, eventually leading her to be taken away by Templars, under special orders from her father in cooperation with the Chantry.

"No, I suppose nobody important enough noticed." So the servants had, but said nothing. "He let me go after a while; I was always such a disappointment." She smiled almost sadly, years of abuse didn't seem to shame her in the least, nor should they, she was proud of them, nevertheless Cassandra had never seen her sleep at night.

"Can I ask, what was the lie going to be, about the scar if I had asked for that?" It was a poor attempt at distracting the girl from what lay behind her.

"That I nearly was hanged in Kirkwall for selling stolen goods." She solemnly twirled a dagger about in her hand. "That did actually happen, but they were going to cut off our hands, until I sweet-talked a Templar or two. My hidden talent; Templar persuasion." The girl seemed sad as she said it, not that Casandra blamed her considering the topic they had just discussed but there was no malice in her tone and it begged another question.

"You don't loathe the Templars, as most Marcher mages seem to?" It was a small wonder, perhaps this mage could lead, but perhaps neutrality was not what they needed most at a time like this, a strong hand would be the obvious choice.

"Why would I hate them when they gave me a life, gave me somebody to be? The Templars had delivered her, yet she was not blinded by it. "I was a far better Rivaini than I ever was a Marcher" she jested. "In a way it wasn't a lie when I said I died in the Uprising. I saw a Templar I used to know at the Temple, he didn't recognise me at first." She had quietened, but continued most confidently. "But it didn't matter, in the end, did it? Templar, mage, noble, peasant, man or woman, they all died." She turned away slightly as she shrugged.

"All except one." Cassandra mused solemnly; this girl had more common sense than was good for a person.

"All except me. Lucky you." The sound of their laughter caused Varric to discontinue the muffled snoring and wander out by the fire, settling in his usual position of diplomat between the two ladies, yet for the first time, the ensuing silence was not uncomfortable.