The late afternoon sun warmed her shoulders, but she could smell fall in the air. It always came early at Skyhold, although she had to admit she'd never been an expert in the seasons. Ostwick really only had two of them: rainy and hot or rainy and cold. Regardless, fall was her favorite time of year at Skyhold. The trees around them would burst into color, shades of orange and yellow racing across the mountaintops.

She placed her right hand on the child's shoulder beside her, turned her just a smidge to the left. "There you go, love." She brushed a golden curl from the girl's face. The child smiled, impish and full of joy. She held a bow in her hand, a small one carved just for her. "Ready to try again, Magpie?"

"Yes." She answered confidently, pulling the bow up. This time, her stance looked right. She raised her shoulder up too high, corrected before Maria could even say anything. She shot Harding an amused smile over the child's head.

"Alright Harding, get her an arrow." Maria directed indulgently, letting her fingers skim over the child's slim shoulder, across the pale line of her neck.

"Mom, stop." The girl whined impatiently. From behind her, a familiar voice chuckled. Maria let her hand fall away with a roll of her eyes.

"Here you go, little Inquisitor." Harding placed a green feathered arrow into the girl's hand. Maria watched as the girl set it against the bow. It careened wildly for a moment before she steadied it, shooting an abashed look up at Maria. Maria pretended not to notice and the child settled, drawing the bowstring back, letting the feather rest against her flushed cheek.

This is where the nervousness came in. The girl shifted, shoulder raising up a bit too high again. Maria firmly placed her hand on it, pushing it back into place. "Don't overthink it." She advised.

"I'm not." The girl replied stubbornly. Harding giggled, but quickly turned it into a cough. Varric didn't even try and Maria turned, looked over her shoulder with one eyebrow arched. She waved her free hand at the child's back as if demanding an explanation.

Varric had his journal opened as he sat with his back against a barrel, a blanket underneath him. This was their part of the courtyard, the place where she could hide for just a little while without anyone coming to look for her.

Their place, his, hers, and Magpie's.

Varric quirked his own eyebrow and shook his head in a clear response, one that said 'That stubbornness? That's all you, Princess.' He looked down quickly into his journal, quill skimming across the page as he wrote. He couldn't hide the silly, reckless grin at his lips.

Maria rolled her eyes skyward before looking back down at her daughter. "Alright then, whenever you're done not thinking about it." She teased fondly.

In a fit of temper, the child loosed the arrow. She shifted a bit as it flew, causing it to hit just shy of center. Still, it embedded itself remarkably close to the bullseye. Magpie looked at it, shocked, then turned up to peer into Maria's face. Maria nodded, smiling in satisfaction down at her and Magpie shrieked in joy, the bow falling, forgotten from her fingers.

"Harding, did you see?" She asked.

"Very well done, Miss Marguerite. I'll be asking your mother to take you out scouting, soon." Harding matched Magpie's sunny grin with one of her own. But her daughter's attention had already shifted, fickle as any child's, and she'd darted back towards Varric. Varric had just enough time to quickly and deftly set aside the journal with its drying ink before Magpie threw herself into his lap.

"Did you see?" She inquired eagerly, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"I did, Sunshine." Varric laughed, tucking that damn blonde curl, the one that always fell loose, back behind her ear. "Impeccable, just like your mother."

"Can I use Bianca now?" She pressed eagerly. Varric's eyes flicked guiltily past her daughter's head with a helpless expression.

She hoped the smile she shot back said, clearly, 'That's all you, Varric.'

"She's still a bit heavy for you, Sunshine." Varric cooed to a face that was quickly becoming thunderous.

Maria turned quickly to hide her laughter, picking one of the arrows from the quiver and stringing it in her own bow. It flew without a thought, trembling in the wood next to her daughter's without much effort on her part.

"Inquisitor, if you have a moment…" Josephine made her way past Varric, board out and quill in hand. "There are a few matters that require your attention, I promise I will make them quick."

"What do you think, Sunshine?" Varric asked the child on his lap, pressing his forehead against hers with a roguish grin. "Should we let Ruffles borrow your mom?"

"No!" Magpie responded immediately, shooting a petulant look up at Josie.

"If I am allowed to borrow her, I will arrange for an extra honey cake to be added to your dinner my lady." Josephine wheedled. Maria saw Magpie's gray eyes consider this thoughtfully before she tipped her head to the side and held up two of her pudgy fingers.

"You drive a hard bargain, but consider it done." Josephine made as if to write a note with a flourish, smiling down at Varric and Marguerite. Maria sat her own bow down, stretching.

"I see how replaceable I am." She teased, bending over to brush a kiss on top of those beautiful gold curls.

"We'll be right here when you're done." Varric promised as she caught his chin in her fingers. She ran her finger over the stubble on his jaw, shaking her head in mock sternness.

"If I come down and find my daughter with that crossbow, it'll be kindling." She threatened. Varric sighed theatrically.

"And yet, I'd still love you." He admitted softly, pressing a quick kiss against her lips.

Josephine chattered as they ambled through the courtyard. Sera and Dagna waved from the tavern roof as they passed, but Cassandra had her nose so far in Varric's latest dirty book she didn't even look up. Cole carried a basket of kittens up one of staircases and Bull knocked a recruit over in the sparring ring under Cullen's watchful eye and Dorian's rather more… lustful gaze.

"Oh!" Josephine stopped at nearly the top step, patting her pockets in annoyance. "My apologies, I seem to have… oh, Sera!"

"Did she steal your office key again?" Maria tried to hide her amusement, but didn't manage it well considering the deathly glare Josephine sent her way.

"Stay here!" Josephine ordered firmly, beginning to stalk back down the steps. Maria grinned, shook her head and took a moment to sweep her gaze over the sprawl of Skyhold with the great hall at her back. Then she turned and slipped inside the silent, empty hall.

She let her eyes linger over the empty tables, set in preparation for supper, before she looked to her right, into the rotunda. The bare walls stretched white and endless, the space completely empty. It made her feel… odd to look at. A waste of space, she decided, tossing her uneasy feeling to the side. She needed to put something in there, although what she couldn't decide…

She reached for the lockpicks in her pocket, intent on popping the lock to Josie's room before the woman returned, but a prickling sensation stopped her cold, made her turn her eyes to the throne at the top of the room instead.

A dwarf stood beside it, his hand gentle against the cold metal, sweeping over it appraisingly. He made a non-committal hum in his throat before he looked up from it, meeting her eyes instantly.

Her eyes, she thought wildly. Her eyes in a man's face, her red hair glinting on his head, in his beard.

"I was waiting for you to make it up here on your own, but I was beginning to fear you wouldn't come unless you were torn away." The man began gravely, gesturing to the throne. "Nice chair. Bit ostentatious, but I suppose when you're a little thing like you, go big or go home, right?"

His lips quirked in amusement and Maria took an uncertain step forward.

"I know you don't remember him, but I thought you might like to see his face again." The man continued, reaching up to scratch at his beard idly.

The word sounded wrong in her mouth, but she said it anyway. "Dad?"

"Not quite. But close, I suppose." He indicated her throne, stepping away from it. "Have a seat, you've earned it. We've got quite a lot to talk about."

This wasn't right. Maria looked over her shoulder, the queer uneasy feeling rising in her belly. The rotunda, the rotunda with the blank walls, the autumn sun, the light shining on golden curls…

"Breathe through it, girl." The dwarf advised. "If you wouldn't have stayed here too damn long as is, this wouldn't be such a shock."

Stayed here. Stayed here too damn long.

"This is my home." She muttered through lips that felt frozen. The dwarf in front of her considered her, frowning.

"What happened to your hand, Maria?" He asked.

"What?" She snapped, curling her hand into a fist and looking down at it. There was nothing wrong with her hand, nothing at all.

"Yes, that's the problem." He stated impatiently. "Think, how did you become Inquisitor in the first place? What happened to the anchor?"

The answer came like a well loved, cherished lie. "Dorian took it out. He figured out a way, before Magpie was born."

The man chuckled, shaking his head. "And how did the Exalted Council end?"

Ferelden and Orlais were convinced to let them continue, her mind supplied immediately. Eagerly.

"And why is Varric here, and not at Kirkwall?"

"Hawke is the Viscount. She's there with Fenris, and Fledgling. They visit, with Thom and Varania and Sabina, but Hawke's the Viscount and Varric…"

"Dorian never went back to Tevinter because…?"

Her throat was swelling with uncomfortable pressure. Something was shattering in the back of her mind, illusions cracking like ice in the spring.

"And your sister? Where is she?"

"Nanna and Bea are in Ostwick…" She began, her voice unsteady, unsure.

"Fynn Dunhark?" He questioned again.

They ran away together, made it to Antiva, but drifted apart. He stayed, married a local girl, had babies of his own and she...

"What about Solas?" The man asked quietly.

The blank rotunda. The one that shouldn't be blank, the one that was painted with elaborate scenes from her life, all except the last panel. The last one that Solas never finished. It was probably a portrait of a wolf swallowing her whole.

The Exalted Council hadn't ended, her daughter had never been born, Dorian wanted to go back to Tevinter, Varric was Viscount of Kirkwall, and she...

Maria shut her eyes, drew a ragged breath. "Am I dead, then?"

"Not quite." The man stated evenly. "Not for lack of trying, I suppose. You certainly don't seem eager to return."

Return to what? Despair threatened to overwhelm her and she choked on the dread rising in her throat. She wanted to go back downstairs, wanted to pick up her daughter, wanted to kiss Varric and tell him…

"I haven't wanted to speak to one of my children in a very, very long time. I thought I never would again, but here you are." The man whispered softly. "I couldn't resist, I'm afraid."

"This isn't real." She stated firmly. This was her mind firing off random synapses, conjuring hallucinations as she slipped into death. And damnit, if she was dying, she'd rather spend it in Varric's arms. She turned on her heel, back to the door.

The door that had vanished, soundlessly, behind her.

"The entire world tells you you're chosen, but you still don't believe, do you?" He asked, sitting on the dais, stretching out his legs as he examined her. "Curious. Most others would."

"I heard Solas. I'm an accident, a dwarf at the wrong place at the wrong time. This wasn't… divine providence." She indicated herself angrily. "I wasn't chosen."

"He's half right and you're half wrong." The man answered cryptically. "You weren't chosen, but it wasn't an accident, Maria Cadash. You were exactly where I meant you to be."

The man's eyes glowed, bright white, before returning to her shade of gray. "I knew what would happen, I knew what would transpire the moment Solas handed over his orb. I thought to let it happen, to see this world burn and perhaps start again in a millennia, to give this up as a failed experiment. But at the last moment… I changed my mind. I set eight people on the path to Haven, six made it there. Four heard an old woman cry out in the dark."

She wanted to ask what happened to the other three, but that would mean giving this… whatever this was, any credence at all.

"One of them ignored her cry and continued on as if he heard nothing. The other two stopped, but hesitated. But you… you chose to go towards it without a thought for your own well-being, without concern for why you were there. You heard an old woman scream for help and came running. And thus, you lived. The others perished."

He paused thoughtfully, examining her. "I never moved to assist you, I never turned against your enemies, I never plucked you from danger. I did nothing to aid your quest because I expected you to fail."

"I did."

The admission tasted like ash in her mouth. "I didn't see through Solas and everyone I loved will die because of it. Isn't that enough of a punishment without a lecture?"

"If I meant to punish you, would I have given you this?" He waved his hand to encompass Skyhold. "A place to rest, if only for a moment. A perfect place filled with everything you loved. Where you had lost nothing, where you could be happy."

"You told me I can't stay."

"That's true." He admitted. "I've come to pull you out. You've been here long enough, it's time."

"No." She remembered the pain, she remembered her failure. She remembered the ashes in her throat, the dying baby inside her. The broken, shattered expression on Varric's face. "I won't go back. I'm staying here."

He studied her, much the same way Dorian examined his potions. "You think you have failed, and yet the world is intact, despite the tear in the sky. Despite the threats of a man who thought himself a god once."

But her daughter was here, Varric was here. The man wearing her father's face sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"I didn't choose you then, but I've picked you now." He whispered wearily. "You showed a tired old creature that there's still something worth saving. Now, I'm trusting you to do it."

"You can make me go back, but you can't make me fight Solas." She clenched her hands into fists. "You can't."

"You're a betting woman, Maria Cadash." He grinned, a mad sort of grin. Like a cat who'd swallowed the canary. "Do you think I couldn't make you fight, if I needed you to?"

The order came easily. "Pick someone else." She demanded. "Make another herald if that's what you fucking want. Not me."

He chuckled, shaking his head back and forth before standing, sauntering past Maria. "Who else could be responsible for all your dashing heroics? Carta dwarf with a heart of gold… it's a good story."

He snapped his fingers and the doors reappeared with a vengeance, flying open, revealing a night sky full of lanterns floating leisurely towards the stars. Their bright glow warm, soft. She could smell summer flowers, hear singing…

"You'll provide the heroics, I'll provide the miracles. In the meantime… say goodbye, Maria Cadash." The man said over his shoulder, leisurely beginning to descend down the stairs. She could swear she heard him whistling.

She started to storm after, was stopped by a broad hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it isn't the wisest course of action to argue with a God, Cadash."

"It does seem to be something she keeps doing heedless of whether it's wisdom." Zarra sighed wearily. Maria turned, the hand falling off her shoulder as she moved, staring at her grandmother and Fynn together, nearly shoulder to shoulder. The way they'd never stood in real life.

"Is this real?" She asked, tears rising up before she could stop them. "Was any of this real? With you? Both of you?"

"That's a complicated question, Maria." Zarra twisted the ring on her finger thoughtfully.

"I'd hazard that it's more real than not." Fynn stroked his beard, glaring out the open doors into the lantern strewn night. "Those are all for you, you know."

"I was always one for the grand gesture." She admitted weakly. Fynn grinned under his beard, shaking his head in exasperated amusement.

"I am so proud of you." Zarra clasped her arm, then the other one, pulling her to her chest. "You have been spectacular. I couldn't be more proud of you or Beatrix."

"I… it was my fault…" Maria wrapped her arms around her grandmother's waist, buried her head in the familiar softness of her shoulder. She smelled like lavender, like the sea, like home, like the great dining room with the long table, the gardens where they played, the harbor overlooking the ocean…

"It was not." Zarra smoothed Maria's hair down gently, patiently. "My sweet girl, you cannot take the blame for my death and neither can Beatrix. I made old bones, I saw you grow up. I got everything I wanted."

Not everything. "Not a great-grandchild." She whispered harshly.

"Hush." Zarra pressed her lips against her temple, threaded her fingers through her hair to anchor her in place. "There could be others. And if there is not… well, I've never known you not to adopt strays of whatever people come into your life anyway. You only need provide me with one more thing, my darling."

"I can't fight anymore." Maria whispered, broken. "I can't do it."

"You can, and you will. When you're ready." Zarra stroked her hair gently. "But Beatrix needs you now. She's… well, she didn't think and made some foolish decisions, of course. She wouldn't be herself otherwise. You'll fetch her for me, one last time? She's in more danger than she bargained for."

She nodded, silent, against Zarra's shoulder. Zarra squeezed her tighter, enveloping her in warmth.

Then she pulled away, tucking Maria's hair behind her ear. "I love you. I love you more than life itself, Maria. I always have. I am sorry you have been called to this, I would not have wished it on you."

"I won't do it." Maria protested, tongue thick in her mouth. Zarra smiled sadly, taking another step back and shooting a glance at the man standing still and quiet beside them.

"Well, don't you have anything to say?" Zarra asked, folding her arms over her chest and glaring at Fynn.

"Maybe we could have a moment alone, Zarra." Fynn shot a pointed look at the door. Zarra scowled for a moment before turning on her heel and walking to the door, pausing just inside the frame.

"Unsurprisingly," Fynn began dryly. "She still hates me."

The laugh startled her and she wiped her wet eyes on the back of her palm. "Maybe, but she didn't buy the assassins."

"No." Fynn frowned darkly. "No, that was my father, wasn't it?"

"Nanna was probably planning to off you herself." Maria supplied helpfully before falling into pained silence. "Fynn, I…"

"Don't apologize." He ordered grimly. "I don't want to hear that you regretted loving me."

No, she couldn't regret loving him, never that. "I killed you."

"No you didn't." He held out his hand, a golden wedding band glinting in it. "My father sent this to me in Hercinia, tracked me down through the guild. Said the assassins sent it to prove the job was done, that my 'madness' could end. That I could come back to Ostwick. I thought I killed you."

He closed his fingers over the ring again, squeezed it tight as he looked out the door. "I told him I was coming to kill him, and I was. I swear it. I wanted him dead, I wanted to fix it. I should have… the minute we learned he was trying to hire assassins to kill you. We shouldn't have fled, I should have killed him."

"Fynn, he was your father. I couldn't have asked you…"

"Your Varric would have killed him without a second thought." Fynn snapped. "And he'd have been right to."

Her Varric. Not in Skyhold's courtyard holding their daughter, but in the crossroads somewhere. Alone, with the ashes of their shared dreams lingering in the air. Maria couldn't breathe past the guilt, the shame welling up inside her.

"Hey, look at me." Fynn captured her chin in his fingers, pointed her eyes back at his. "I knew, Maria. Do you honestly think the Merchant's Guild didn't know the city was going to lock those poor bastards in the docks and burn them? Do you really believe I didn't see the greedy bastards trying to save their goods? I had a chance to flee, but I didn't. I couldn't."

Maria felt the ground fall away under her feet, everything she knew or thought she knew falling by the wayside. "You knew and you stayed? What kind of daft…"

"I tried to save them. I stormed into the guild and demanded they put a stop to the burning, I said if they didn't I would go back out and tell all those people they were about to be torched alive. I thought you were dead, and I knew you wouldn't have left those sorry sods to die like that. How could I have done any less?"

Fynn reached for her right hand, brought it up to his chest. She felt something warm under her fingers, something sticky. She looked down in alarm, seeing the blood staining her fingertips. Carefully, her rested his palm over her hand. She could feel the blood seeping through both their fingers. "I didn't burn, Maria. The guild killed me rather than let me cause a fuss. I was dead long before you and Bea made it to Hercinia. I was gone right around the time your sister was rescuing you from your would be assassins."

"I saw…" Her fingers clutched in his bloody shirt. "Fynn, I saw you…"

In the fade, the nightmare. Fynn shook his head. "You saw your fears, your guilt. Not the truth. Maybe it's time to stop being afraid of the flames. They can't hurt you, not when you just rise from the ashes."

"Who?" Maria demanded through her tears. "Who killed you, I can…"

"Let Bea worry about the guild. She'll pay them back for us ten times over by the time she's done. You've got larger problems." He chanced a glance out the door into the night.

"He can't make me. I don't care who he is, I didn't choose this. I don't want it."

Her fingers trembled as they clutched onto Fynn. He laughed, low in his chest. "Never thought I'd see the day you ran from a fight, Cadash."

Her fights got people hurt. Got people killed. Her baby, Varric, Bea…

"I know you, Maria. You'll get back up and keep going. Doing nothing… it'd drive you right up the wall. It would burn you up inside."

"I don't know how." She whispered. She'd never known how, not really. She'd been making it up as she went along, which hadn't exactly worked for her. At least she understood darkspawn and demons, templars and mages, red lyrium and blight, but a war between gods, with her stuck in the middle?

"When it's time, you'll do it." Fynn leaned forward, brushed his warm lips against her forehead. "You'll do it, and you'll keep on doing it. You'll continue on until you die, or until the world does. There's no other way, Maria, and there never was. Not for you."

She squeezed her eyes shut tight. She wanted to scream, to rage. She wanted to throw over all the tables, knock the plates and platters to the ground, light her throne on fire. She wanted to burn it all down around her ears rather than be used, not like this.

"Mind if I cut in, Dunhark?"

Varric's voice, laced with laughter, cut through the silence. Maria looked over her shoulder, took in the sight of him by the fireplace. He leaned carefully against the chair he usually occupied when he was at Skyhold, one eyebrow raised.

Fynn stepped back, carefully pulling her hand from his bleeding chest. "I know you promised, that last night in Ostwick, that you'd never love anyone else except me for your entire life."

"Fynn, I…" She owed him an apology, an explanation.

"It was a stupid promise to make." Fynn dropped her mother's wedding band into her open hand. "And I'm not holding you to it. You were the great love of my life, Maria, but I wasn't the great love of yours."

"I'm sorry." She curled her fingers over the warm metal in her palm.

"Don't be. For a brief, shining second, the woman who saved the world loved me." Fynn grinned, amused. "Not bad, for a damn kid from Ostwick."

She laughed against the tears and Fynn slowly let go of her hand. "Goodbye, Maria Cadash."

She couldn't say it, but she nodded, tearing herself away from his side. Varric held out his hand as she approached, pulling her to his chest as soon as he could. "You're not real." She accused.

"Guilty." He admitted with a shameless, brazen grin. "But I am really waiting for you, Princess. And you're running late."

"I didn't want to hurt you." She whispered. Varric's eyes caught afire at the statement and he pulled her hungrily to his mouth, pausing just before he captured her lips.

"The only thing that hurts, Maria, is the thought that you're not coming home to me." He whispered desperately.

She could hear the crackle of fire. Smell smoke. Around her, flames were spreading, rising up to claim the tapestries, the wooden beams. They scorched the walls and seared up against her skin. Varric didn't move from the inferno, and neither did she.

She closed her eyes against the tears that threatened to spill before she answered in a harsh whisper. "Bring me home then."

His lips crashed into hers and Skyhold burned around them.