While everyone else turned their attention to the vortex, Maria's thoughts spun at a thousand miles an hour in every other direction. Everyone seemed content to leave her be. Assumed her terse answers were in response to the mounting pressure. Varric smiled at her whenever he caught her eye, but always looked away first. Bea lived with her silence too long to question it now. Bull, his own scars locked deep inside, gave her room to breathe. Cole, of course, continued to make her coffee on mornings after sleepless nights, sat with her when her ghosts bubbled up, but said nothing except to ask if she could hear the stars yet. She couldn't.
Everyone accepted her silence.
Everyone except fucking Dorian Pavus.
"Sweet Andraste's knickers." He muttered, sitting at the kitchen counter with a large chart spread in front of him. Maria watched as he shook his head in mock alarm. "Has nobody ever taught these poor southern bumpkins the difference between a sigil of protection and a ward of defense?"
He tapped the pen on the chart irritably. Maria watched the ink shift, moving and rewriting into whatever Dorian thought better suited to the task at hand. "Darling, if I wasn't here they'd kill you with their general ineptitude."
Maria's coffee had gone lukewarm ages ago. Outside, she heard kids shrieking with delight at something. She thought it amazing, really, that life went on. Children continued to play, even with the vortex above them, even when Maria knew the world almost ended, even…
"At least they've got Solas completing the star charts. Say what you will for his homeless hitchhiker look, but all that time in the great open wide open has done wonders for his knowledge base."
"Be nice." She reprimanded without heat. Nyx chirped by his hand as if in agreement. Dorian muttered something that sounded suspiciously like an accusation of treason.
They lapsed into silence again, Maria's thoughts beginning to drift. It wasn't until she realized that Dorian wasn't mumbling to himself that she thought to look up from the mug in her hand. His dark eyes bore into her, warm and concerned. "Have you spoken to anyone about it?" He asked softly.
"About what?" She replied, bringing the barely warm brew up to her lips. Dorian sighed wearily at her feigned ignorance, leaning back in his bar stool while tapping his pen irritably against the chart.
"I know we do not know each other well." He stated with a rather handsome frown. "Although, you must admit, time traveling shenanigans do tend to form a certain bond."
She inclined her head to show she was listening and to indicate that she agreed. Dorian… well, Dorian felt safe. Dorian, sometimes felt like the only thing she knew for certain was real.
"I did not share the...details of our escapade. I did not feel they were all pertinent and I did not want to expose anything before you were done mulling it over in your pretty little head." He continued, toying with the pen idly.
"Is there a point here?" She asked, slamming her mug down on the counter beside her. She hoped he took it as a punctuation mark on this conversation. He didn't.
"The point is that you're clearly beside yourself. Everyone is running around assuming you're worrying about your own likely demise after we throw you at that hole in the universe, but I'm not convinced that you're that worried about it." Dorian set his jaw stubbornly. "So either you're going to tell me you've been talking this out with someone or I'm going to remain planted firmly in this seat until you decide to discuss it with me."
Maria sighed and reached up to rub her forehead. Dorian didn't look away and she finally felt her shoulders sag in surrender. "A bit. With Bull."
"The Qunari?" Dorian questioned, the shock setting his mustache on edge. "Well, he's not the person I'd have chosen to confide in, but I must confess you do things in a very unique way."
"Bull's…" Maria trailed off, shoved her hands deep in her pockets and shrugged. "Bull's been there for me. Through a lot."
Through Fynn. Through Nanna's death and getting out of the Carta. Then through the trial. Unwavering. "He's never let me down."
A part of her shriveled up and whispered that Maria was the one who let the Iron Bull down. Quite often, in fact.
"In that case." Dorian settled his elbow on the counter and continued to stare at her. "Let's talk about our favorite best selling author."
Maria shot a quick glance at the door, half convinced that Dorian's words would somehow summon him. Maria herself didn't know whether that would be a good thing or a bad one. Varric made it hard to concentrate, made it difficult to think clearly, to plan what she needed to do, how she needed to do it.
He'd be integral to the plan, of course. She hated asking him for a favor, knew she couldn't pay it back, but she couldn't find a way around it.
"If you want him to sign your books, butter him up first or he'll charge you." She said instead, picking her coffee mug back up to hide her expression.
"I was actually thinking that neither of us have appropriately expressed our gratitude to him for saving our respective posteriors." Dorian grinned, and it was such a pretty grin the instinct to throw her mug at him nearly vanished. Nearly.
"I checked. They don't make Hallmark cards with that on it." She brought the mug up to her lips again and sipped at the coffee remaining.
"Well, clearly, one of us has to sleep with him then."
She nearly choked on the tepid coffee. Dorian noticed, of course he fucking noticed, but he continued on regardless in that matter-of-fact tone, smirking the whole time. "As much as it pains me to admit it, I think he prefers you. Judging from the lingering, wistful looks and the amount of time he spends staring at your lovely bosom, anyway"
"Dorian…" She protested.
"Somehow, he seems utterly oblivious to you unbuttoning the rest of his shirt with your eyes, so I insist you do something to reduce the sexual tension, It's causing Nyx to molt."
Nyx chirped in clear agreement.
"I can't." It wasn't part of the plan. Varric wasn't part of the plan and if she slept with him, he'd only get hurt. She'd already gotten him killed once, after all.
As if he read the thought in her face, Dorian softened. "Maria, he's alive. They're all alive and nothing bad has come of it. You have to believe that or you'll… you'll drive yourself mad."
Her heart thudded in her ears. She closed her eyes against all the conflicting urges, the thoughts she couldn't handle. She pictured Varric, his smile warm against her skin, his hands on her waist. His neck pierced by a demon's claws. Her helpless to stop it.
She shook her head. She heard Dorian sigh softly.
"Well, if you change your mind I've had Nyx sneak some condoms into your bedside drawer. If I were you, I'd recommend celebrating after dealing with the vortex. You've certainly earned it." She heard him roll up the chart at the same time she heard the door open. She opened her eyes immediately, half expecting to see Varric…
Instead, Bea slammed the door behind her, muttering about how her tits were freezing off. She had a bag nearly as big as her in one hand and she held it up, then pointed upstairs. "New coats. Come try 'em on."
It wasn't often she felt the desire to play dress up with Bea, and in fact it wasn't something she really wanted to do then, but if it got her out of Dorian's crosshairs…
"Do you need me for anything else?" She asked, putting her mug back down. Dorian smirked.
"Oh my dear, I'll find you if I need you." He promised.
Twenty minutes later, she wanted Dorian back. She vastly underestimated the amount of coats shoved in that bag and Bea wouldn't be happy until she tried them all on. Her sister sat cross legged on the bed, examining another blighted itchy wool coat as Maria tore the one she had on off her shoulders.
"I just wanted another coat like the one I lost in Redcliffe." She muttered darkly.
"Josie got one." Bea replied serenely. "It's in the bottom of the bag."
Bea's lips twitched in amusement, so Maria threw the coat she still held at her head, diving into the bag until she found the one she wanted, the leather bomber identical to the one Bull threw away. Maria tugged it on, relaxing in the gentle warmth of it. "She got you a spare too." Bea teased with a grin. "I'm going to take it."
Bea would probably wear it better than Maria could, but she found she didn't mind very much. She shoved her hands into the pockets and looked down at Bea, the words she'd practiced so easily coming to her mouth like a well-rehearsed play. "Did you leave anything you wanted in Ostwick?"
Bea's eyes shifted, wary. She leaned back on her hands and eyed Maria critically before shaking her head. "Nope. Packed up everything we needed."
Bea thought they were going to fight, but Maria didn't want to. Not now. Not with her about to close the vortex tomorrow, not when her plan meant they may not see each other again for months.
"Right." Maria huffed, brought her hand up to her hair and pushed it away from her face. "We're not going back."
Wherever Bea thought this conversation was going, it wasn't there. Maria watched her sister's face change, her expression lightening, surprise making her look younger. "What, really?"
"Really." Bea would never set foot in Ostwick again, most likely, and if she did… well, they'd both be free women then. "I need you to trust me though. It's complicated. This shit… there's so many people watching me."
"Right." Bea leaned forward, instantly serious. "What do we need to do? How can I help?"
"Leliana's gonna get you and Cole out first." This part was true, at least. "It's easier that way. She says she's got contacts in Antiva." Contacts that would hide Bea, just in case. Contacts used to dealing with people with checkered pasts.
"I'm not leaving you." Bea set her jaw stubbornly and Maria didn't know whether to slap her or hug her.
"I'm not going to be able to slip away until people stop talking about me and start talking about the templars or the war in Orlais again." Maria's lies dripped fluently. Artfully. They had to, if they were going to fool Bea. "It might take months. Dwyka isn't going to wait that long, and the second he realizes I'm not coming back you're not safe."
She couldn't let anything happen to her sister. She couldn't lose her. She saw Bea open her mouth to argue, and Maria put the last nail in the coffin. "We do it this way or I'm going back."
Back to Dwyka. Back to that water stained hellhole, back to his fingers in her hair and his fetid breath against her neck. Her tone, flat and serious, brooked no argument. It shut Bea up more effectively than anything else Maria could have said, even if the mutiny in Bea's eyes didn't die down. Bea considered that statement, held it in her mouth so she could taste the bitterness of it too.
"Promise." She finally demanded. "Promise you'll come find us. Promise you won't go back."
She couldn't go back. She could never go back. She had tasted freedom, she had tasted death. She couldn't forget them. "I promise. If you do this, you'll never have to see him again."
Bea nodded, ducked her chin down to stare at her hands in her lap. "I'm going with you tomorrow. I'm not staying down here."
Would you believe I tried to keep her safe, Princess? Thought it was the absolute least I could do if I couldn't save you.
"Fine." Maria sighed, unwilling to fight that battle when Bea had given in and Varric's voice still haunted her. She rubbed her temple, the words out before she even thought them through. "But you'll stay with Varric. Swear it."
Bea's lips twisted into a wry little smirk. "Poor Varric. Does he know what he's in for?"
Maker, she hoped so. Either way, she knew he'd keep her sister safe. She trusted that.
The next day dawned bright, clear. The cold sun sparkled high up above the mountains and the air felt crisp, clean in Maria's lungs. Better, by far, than the air choking the streets of Ostwick. There could be something to all the claims of the great outdoors being good for you after all. She'd miss Haven, she really would.
"The arrangements are made for your sister and Cole to leave tomorrow." Leliana walked beside her, hood up, hands crammed in her own pockets. "Are… are you certain you wish to stay?"
"As long as Bea's safe, I don't care what happens. Dwyka will come find me, but we'll be ready." Maria tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looked up into Leliana's serious eyes and lied through her teeth. "It'll be alright as long as you can keep Bea out of sight."
"I swear." Leliana promised. "Be careful. I will wait for news."
They turned the corner to see a crowd of people assembled. Dorian, Solas, Vivienne barking orders at witches. Cullen and Cassandra doing the same for the witches. Sera rooting through a bag hooked to one of the ATVs while Cole watched her anxiously. Harding's drone dipped low in the air, and there…
Bea and Varric stood together, both of them watching something on Varric's phone. Bea shook her head, curls bouncing, but Maria could see her smile. Varric chuckled and the wind carried the rich sound. It landed in her stomach like hot chocolate, like whiskey and good coffee.
Maria's heart skipped a beat. No, she reminded herself. No, you can't have him. You can't want him. Maria would ruin him.
It's enough to live in a world where you existed.
His words, but she was the one that needed to live by them, despite the small, hungry part of her whispering back.
It isn't enough.
She wanted more. But she knew better than to want.
xx
Varric could have lived without getting this close to the spiraling rift of doom in the sky again. Yet again, he was on the edge of the crater. Yet again, he was about to send Maria down into it. Sure, this time they had backup, but it still felt uncomfortably close to the first time they'd climbed up this mountain.
Varric didn't think they'd come back down the first time. Now, he was counting on her emerging the way she came through everything else they'd thrown at her.
"She stepped out of that?" Bea asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "It looks like something out of a nightmare up close."
He nearly told her she should have seen it spitting demons and tearing cracks in the world, but thought better of it. Instead Varric tilted his head as if appraising the thing. "I don't know. I think it has a certain charm to it in that 'near-miss apocalypse' kind of way."
Bea ignored him, turning her chin down to glance at her phone. Beside her, Cole shifted, nose lifted to scent the wind.
"It isn't enough." Cole whispered. Bea let her eyes flick to him, but Varric followed Cole's gaze to where it landed, right between Maria's shoulder blades.
It had to be enough. Enough power, enough strength. It had to get her through, because if it didn't…
The Lover sat in his pocket like a weight. But Cole's smile was weightless as he turned to him, joy dancing in his pale eyes. "Yes." Cole breathed. "Yes, that. The words are hard, heavy, but not for you. You can set them free."
"I'm lost." Bea sighed, dropping her phone back in her pocket. The action was like a signal, he heard Solas shout for the witches to focus. They ringed the perimeter of the crater, their hands clasped, and Maria carefully slipped underneath them. For a second, she balanced precariously between the hole in the ground and safety.
His own breath caught in his throat. Bea made a noise and a small, desperate movement like she'd lunge forward. Cole caught her arm and Varric fought the urge to push forward himself.
She'd be fine. She was always fine. She looked over her shoulder as Varric felt the magic swirl around them, the witches channeling their mana.
"Varric, Hawke is on the line."
The voice in his ear was an unwelcome distraction, and he ripped the earpiece from his ear immediately, shoving it in his pocket. Hawke could damn well wait her turn.
There were sparks, beautiful, blinding lines of flames running from witch to witch. Maria slid down the rocky slope, Solas following her. He placed one hand over her shoulder, his long fingers curling carefully. Varric watched the elf lean down, smiling, and Maria smirked in return.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He dug into the coat and pressed the button to silence it without looking, unwilling to tear his eyes away from Maria as she turned to the crack in the world. Wind tore her hair from the bun she'd twisted it into, lines of fire against the darkness, against the brightness. Varric held his breath as Maria raised her hand, the light illuminating her.
Andraste herself couldn't have been more beautiful.
The energy pulsed from her hand, sent rocks skittering up the slope, a bright burst of light and sound that made his eardrums pop. He moved to shield Bea, but she shoved past him. Before he could catch her, the light cleared.
The vortex vanished, knitting itself together from where Maria stood, the whole way up into the sky. Varric just caught Bea's coat, held it tight until the lights from the witches dimmed. Until a cheer began to erupt from the soldiers.
Bea tore free and whooped, racing down the crater, sending rocks in a small avalanche as she scurried gracefully down the unsteady earth, nearly colliding with Maria at the center. Maria caught her, but looked up instead, past the witches, straight at him. A small, hesitant smile curled her lips and Varric grinned in return until she dropped her eyes to Bea.
His phone buzzed again and he bit off a curse, pulling it from his pocket and looking at the screen. Three missed calls. All from Hawke.
But it was the texts that made his blood run cold.
H: srsly? NOW u choose now to not answer your phone?
H: Varric! U short asshole.
H: listen up u little shit i'm not calling for no reason
H: VARRIC
Even as he read, the next message rolled in. A picture, two cards. Varric's hair stood on the back of his neck as the joyful cacophony of celebration faded from his awareness until he felt he may have well have been standing on the edge of the abyss, alone.
The picture showed the Hermit, standing in the snow, the mountains against her back. And crossed over top of it…
A skeleton on a dark horse, scythe in hand. Death, coming to collect what was owed.
Why? Why now? Varric kept waiting for the sky to split back open, for the demons to start dropping, bombs and gunfire, but nothing happened. Nothing happened at all.
Hawke got it wrong, he argued with himself. She'd gotten Redcliffe wrong, hadn't she? He'd just stood there with his pants flapping around his ankles while Maria went around punching Magisters.
Except Bull said Varric had saved her, just like Hawke said he would. He'd thought them both confused, clearly, but if they weren't…
If Hawke was right then… well, maybe her powers weren't on the fritz like he hoped. And if they weren't…
But there was music playing, cheerful and upbeat, from speakers, from phones, a medley of songs that varied from street to street as the village poured out of their houses with beer, with candy, firecrackers, the good whiskey they hid in their closets. Everyone was laughing, children were running through the crowd, voices bubbling together with merriment, with sheer relief, and Maria…
Maria sparkled in the streetlights as night fell, passed from person to person. He hadn't seen her own smile look so light, so relieved, since they went to Val Royeaux. He watched, heartsick, when Bea pulled Maria back into a mass of writhing, spiraling bodies. He could see her shaking her head, hear her smoky laughter as she protested even from where he stood in the shadows, nursing a beer he barely had the stomach to touch.
"Varric, I could do this a hundred more times." Hawke told him when he called her back, frantic and harried. "They always come up together. Every. Single. Damn. Time. Whatever's coming, it's coming soon, and it's coming right at her."
Real fucking specific, Hawke. He thought, pissed. As fucking usual. But it wasn't her fault, and he knew it. Hawke seemed just as panic-stricken as he was that Death and Maria were tangled up together in their own dance, one she couldn't seem to escape from.
Maria slipped from the press of bodies her sister dragged her into, shaking her head in fond exasperation, wiping her hands on her jeans, pulling the zipper of her coat down as she swung her gaze across the crowd, pushing red hair away from her face with her free hand. So vibrant and brilliant, Varric couldn't look away.
If she felt the weight of his gaze, she didn't show it. She sauntered, casually, to the drinks. She grabbed a bottle, but instead of spinning to return to the party, she ducked into a side street. Varric didn't quite bite back a groan.
Ulcers. She'd give him ulcers.
He followed her away from the noise, watching as she vanished around the next corner. He nearly lost her as she veered left, but he knew where she was going after that. Could see the little house she inhabited just up the block, the kitchen light on even though both Cadash girls were out and about.
When she walked up the back steps, the light caught her face. Maybe it was the harsh shadows, but she suddenly looked both tired and unbearably sad. Varric wondered if this quiet, private moment was the first time she'd felt she could let her guard down all night. She paused, hand on the doorknob, silent and still.
A part of him wanted to let her be. The rest of him couldn't get rid of the skeleton burned into the back of his eyelids.
"You coming, Tethras?" She asked, looking over her shoulder to where Varric thought he had nicely tucked himself into the shadows.
He laughed because he couldn't help it, stalking up the back steps behind her in a moment. "Well, if I'm invited."
If he was with her, he'd be able to stop the danger when it dropped in their laps. He knew it was coming, he could do something.
Isn't that what Hawke always told herself anyway?
"I wanted to ask you something, but I haven't been able to find you all damn night." She paused, pulling her phone from her pocket and fumbling for one of the power cords dangling from the counter. "Thought you were avoiding me."
"Never." He lied, watching as her phone screen flickered back to life, the battery showing a whopping one percent charge. "I didn't want to steal you away from your adoring public."
"People won't stop texting. Emailing. Josie keeps sending them to me and I…" Maria grinned sheepishly. "I turned my sound off, honestly."
"That's why I don't answer my emails." Varric advised sagely, shutting the door behind him. The noise of the parties outside grew dim, the music lingering in the background no more than white noise. "You just get more of them if you do."
"Noted." She stated wryly, leaning back on the counter and popping the tab off the bottle in her hand. She held it up and Varric tapped his own disappointing bottle against hers. "Cheers, Varric."
"Cheers, Princess." He watched, momentarily captivated, driven to distraction by her pink lips wrapped tight around the bottle. Something inside him shifted, reminded him that they were alone, maybe for the first time since that night he'd captured her against the piano in Val Royeaux. They were alone, and she stretched languorously as she sat the bottle down.
Varric's mouth went dry and he focused instead on the conversation while she shrugged off her coat. "What do you need, beautiful? I live to serve."
She rolled her eyes and threw her coat on one of the barstool chairs, the ones too tall for either of them to sit in without feeling ridiculous. He followed her lead, shrugging off his own coat and tossing it over hers. She rolled her shoulders and frowned, picking the bottle up again and staring into it. "You said you'd help me if I wanted to leave."
He had said that, hadn't he? It didn't matter if he currently would rather her stay exactly where she was, surrounded by soldiers and a nice little army of pleasant religious fanatics devoted to her. "Did you pick a place yet?" He slid into warm teasing. "I've got suggestions if you're up for them."
"Ostwick." She answered immediately.
For a second, he thought he misheard. There clearly had to be something, somewhere, that rhymed with Ostwick and that's what she said. "Sorry, Princess. I didn't catch that."
She didn't pull her eyes from the bottle and Varric's stomach settled somewhere around his knees. "Ostwick." She repeated, avoiding his eyes studiously. "I need to get to Ostwick sometime in the next couple days."
"I think my offer was to help you go somewhere else, Maria. Anywhere else." His temple throbbed, and he closed his eyes, the skeleton still burned onto his eyelids like it was in fucking neon.
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important." Maria took a gulp from the bottle, sat it back down. She still didn't meet his eyes, examined her shoes instead. He watched, strangely detached, as her thumb traced the little tattoo on her wrist. "I'll pay you back somehow, I swear."
She wouldn't, because she'd be dead. This had to be what Hawke saw, not demons and calamity, but a rash decision to flee. Flee back to…
Dwyka.
He'd kill her. Of course he'd kill her. Varric never had the dubious honor of meeting the infamous asshole, but he knew the type. He wouldn't be able to stomach living in Maria Cadash's shadow after she saved the fucking world. He'd try to beat it out of her, and when he couldn't…
"Why?" He wanted to shake her. He wanted to grab her by her shirt, haul her back out to the crowd, keep walking until he found the Seeker, and tell her to throw Maria back in a cell until she came to her senses.
She finally looked at him, her eyes perfectly clear, perfectly sane. Almost eerily calm. "There's something I have to do before anyone else gets hurt."
"Anyone except you?" He asked, incredulously.
"I can take care of myself." She set her jaw stubbornly, and Ancestors, she shouldn't look so damn attractive doing it. She held his eyes, and he could let himself be mesmerized by them, it would be damn easy to let her talk him into sending her to Ostwick.
If he did it, he may as well send her in a coffin.
"What are you going to do? Are you seriously thinking of going back to… back to…" He couldn't make his mouth say it. Couldn't handle the thought of Dwyka's fingers around her wrist, the one that snapped so easily. He couldn't think of her underneath that man, he couldn't…
"Varric…" He could hear the plea in her voice, see it in her gray eyes and he turned from them, darting away from the warm glow of the kitchenette and into the living room, his back to her.
"Don't ask me to do this." He begged the darkness in front of him because he couldn't look at her. Couldn't look at her without seeing another woman asking him to accept an impossible situation, to aid and abet it with a smile on his face. "I'm not sending you back to Ostwick. I'm not sending you back so he can murder you."
"Not if I kill him first."
Her voice was nearly silent, but he heard every word. He spun back to her, saw how she stood in the kitchen, hands shoved in the pockets of her jeans, eyes blazing. Solid, sturdy, broken and haunted just like every other holy thing he'd ever been shown. She lifted her chin like a queen and stared him down. "I'm going back to Ostwick to find him. And then I'm going to kill him."
"Alone." Varric repeated, relief breaking out over him like a cold sweat. His heart thudded in his chest unevenly. She wasn't returning to become a victim, but to wreck bloody vengeance. "You're going back to kill Dwyka. Alone."
"Yes." She confirmed tersely. "And if you won't help me, I'll find another way."
Death clearly still waited in the wings if she went. But maybe… maybe he didn't need to stop her from going. He just needed to stop her from going alone. If she didn't go alone, if she took someone who had her back…
"Not alone." Maria's shoulders tensed, but Varric plowed on, crossing back to her small form in the kitchen until he stood in front of her. "I'll help, but I'm coming too."
"No." She snapped impatiently, looking away.
"Not up for discussion."
"This isn't your problem." Maria hissed. Varric reached out, caught her shoulder before she could twist away from him. She turned back at the immovable weight of his palm on her shoulder, glaring at him. "Damnit, why? Why in the void would you want to…"
There was only one reason, but it was a damn good one. As she spoke, he ran his palm up her shoulder, fingers brushing up her neck until he cupped her face in his hand. Her voice hitched, the words failing her, and she stared at him. He saw himself reflected back in those stunning eyes as he leaned forward.
"Because I'm sick of near misses with you." He growled softly, closing the last inch between them, pressing his lips against hers.
Soft. Softer than he thought they would be, and warm. He could taste the malt of the beer she drank lingering on her lips, but she'd frozen underneath him. He pulled back, saw that her eyes fell closed, the breath she exhaled sounded shaky.
He crossed a line, one she didn't want crossed. He pushed where he shouldn't have. He began to withdraw, pulling back, pulling away. The sting of rejection pierced his heart and he conjured an apology to his lips, opened his mouth to let the words soothe this away.
Then Maria's eyes opened.
They were blown dark as the night sky, more pupil than iris. Color flooded her cheeks and she stepped forward, even as he pulled back. Her hands rose to his jaw, thumbs brushing against his stubble, and she crashed against him, demanding even as the hands holding his face shook.
Varric knew an order when he saw one. His own eyes closed while he opened his mouth under her sweet assault, tongue meeting hers in a frantic dance. He dropped his hands to her waist, pulled her body flush to him so he could feel every inch of her, every tremor, every delighted shiver.
Her hands found his hair, tangled in it while she pressed against him more insistently, desperately. But if she was a woman starved, he was a man dying of thirst finally arrived at the oasis. He slipped his hands under the back of her shirt, the thin cotton soft, but not nearly as soft as the warm, silken skin underneath. Maria choked on a little moan and Varric felt her shaking fingers, clumsy with need, tug the tie from his hair roughly enough that he winced.
"Sorry." She pulled away, breathless, but Varric was beyond caring about a few lost hairs. He captured her mouth with his again, letting one of his own hands reach up to, much more gently, pull her own bun free. He let the tie fall to the floor and slipped his fingers through the soft fall of crimson, slowing their kiss as he changed the angle of it.
Maria protested with a whine as he dragged his lips from her mouth, trailing kisses down her neck instead. She rocked against him, the slow drag of her jeans against his waist threatening to cause a very intense reaction in him. His eyes fluttered closed and he breathed her name against her shoulder like a prayer.
"Damn you." She cursed, all heat, no venom. His only response was to nip lightly at the exposed skin of her throat. He was rewarded with another delicious shiver and a throaty moan that carried his name. All of his blood quickly rushed to pool in his groin, his cock stiffening traitorously in his pants.
Varric was consumed with the need to wring that sound out of her pretty, kiss swollen lips again. The rest of the night, if he had his way. She tugged his mouth back to hers impatiently, claimed his lips with ruthless desire.
Varric let his hands slip from her waist, down the delectable curve of her ass squeezed into those jeans. He wanted them off, he wanted her bare beneath him, safe, not rushing off into a monster's den with nothing but her gun and wits.
The thought made him growl into her kiss, his hands squeezing her ass before he hefted her weight easily, lifting her off her feet while continuing their passionate, heated kiss. She made a noise that sounded clearly like assent, thighs clambering around his waist, fingers dropping from his hair to dig into his shoulders. The couch was closer, he could bend her over it, rip the rest of her clothes from her body and finally, finally make good on the sparks that had been flying between them since the day he caught sight of her.
He wanted her in bed, though. A real fucking bed, not a quick fuck on a couch like they were randy teenagers. He wanted to make this last, give her a damn reason to stay with him. Wanted to drive every thought out of her head except his name.
Her nails scratched against his chest and suddenly getting to bed seemed more urgent than anything else Varric had ever done in his life. He shifted her weight, tore his lips away to focus on navigating the room.
It didn't help that the second he relinquished her lips, her clever tongue traced its way up his jaw, her teeth playfully nipping at his earlobe. The pulse of desire caused him to swear, to tighten his hold on her even as his vision swam in a sea of red hair and dark shadows. Need, blinding hot, sang through his veins.
He took a second to wonder if he'd been lured to his doom by a desire demon wearing Maria's face. Her fingers were between them, undoing buttons as quickly as she could find them, and he decided in the next second he'd risk it. He took a step forward, near blind, but his feet hit the stairs with another step and he groaned while Maria's hand slipped beneath his shirt. He took the first step and she stopped, eyes flicking back to his, both concerned and amused.
"Varric, are you seriously going to carry me up these stairs?"
"That's the plan, beautiful." Maria tightened her grip around his shoulders, eyes still on his. He was gratified to see the rather grudging admiration in her eyes as he continued to navigate the staircase.
Of course, she ruined it by rolling her hips against his, the sweet friction of her core catching the bulge in his own pants and causing him to very nearly drop her. She laughed, smooth as smoke, even while she clung to him tighter. He flew up the rest of the steps, pausing only long enough to let her reach back for the light switch, casting the room into a warm yellow glow. Then he swept her away to the low bed, dropping her on it immediately. She bounced once, but was up on her elbows immediately, hair mused, eyes sparkling, skin flushed. Varric stood above her just long enough to finish the rest of the buttons she missed, tossing the shirt impatiently to the floor.
Her eyes traced his chest hungrily, lingering pointedly on the hair densely covering his chest, then following it as it trailed, narrowing, across his stomach and into his pants. Varric grinned at the hunger playing over her features, feeling like he'd regained some control of the situation.
He lost it immediately. Taking his lead, Maria reached briskly for her own shirt and pulled it smoothly over her head in one sensuous motion. Varric's mouth went dry and his cock, trapped inside his pants, pulsed painfully.
Maria's body… he didn't know whether to thank the Maker for it or their glorious ancestors. He'd been a gentleman the first time he manhandled her, checking for gang tattoos as the world fell to pieces around him, ignoring the whispers of desire. This time, even if wanted to, there was no ignoring the screeching need in his blood. She was pale, creamy skin glowing like pearls in the moonlight. The freckles that dashed across her nose were sprinkled liberally across her shoulders. The plain cotton bra that hid her breasts from closer inspection did nothing to conceal the size and shape of them. A chain fell into the valley of her cleavage, something beautiful sparkling there, but it wasn't enough to distract him. Her body curved in at the waist, flared back out into the lush softness of her belly, her glorious hips.
Perfect. She was perfect. And she was smiling, radiant and sensual, confident in her raw sexuality. Varric was undone before her slender, nimble fingers even traced the straps of her bra, her eyebrows rising in challenge. "Think you can manage a bra clasp, Varric?"
Let it never be said that Varric Tethras couldn't rise to the occasion. He was above her in a heartbeat, pulling her flush against his bare chest again, the slide of skin on skin enough to make him weak. He captured her teasing lips once more, running his palm up the length of her spine before coming to the clasp sitting just above it.
He even managed to do it one handed for the little minx underneath him.
She giggled like she'd read his thoughts, quickly shrugging out of the scrap of fabric. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Varric's hands moved like they had a mind of their own, sliding back up her warm alabaster skin, impatiently brushing the necklace aside without a second glance to cup the globes revealed in all their glory, thumbs sliding over pebbling nipples. Maria's words turned into a desperate, needy moan and she arched into his touch.
"I've wanted this since the first time I saw you." He whispered, lowering his mouth back to her neck, skimming his lips across her thudding pulse point. "You underneath me. On top of me. In front, on your knees. On my knees while I show you what my silver tongue can do. Hell, in my mind I've had you a hundred ways since the day you fell out of the sky."
"Varric…" She keened his name, nails scrambling to clutch at his shoulders as he ghosted his lips over her collarbones, down, breath hot and urgent against her skin. She rocked her hips up again and Varric felt something like an electric shock race down his spine, his own breath turning ragged.
"I've got a vivid imagination, Princess. Writer's curse." He grinned, catching the whimper she tried to stifle. She made the best little noises, just like he knew she would, soft and feminine. Each one sent another jolt to his aching cock and he quickly reached one hand down, undoing a button to help relieve some of the unbearable pressure. "And we've got all night."
She swore and he let his tongue flick the tip of her nipple while his other hand gently tweaked the neglected one. "Say my name, beautiful."
She obliged, his name a sharp cry as he attacked her breasts with gusto, switching between gentle licks, suction, playful nips he soothed with his tongue. He switched his attention back and forth, his fingers mimicking his mouth on the other as he pushed her higher and higher. She was so sensitive, her cries quickly becoming incoherent, a littany of curses, his name, pleas to her ancestors, Andraste, urging him to keep going, to stop and please just fuck her.
He would. His cock demanded it and he didn't even care that he didn't have a condom, sense blown right out the window by the roaring inferno of lust. He didn't even have her pants off and he could smell her, the scent of arousal heady as fine wine.
He let go of her nipple with an obscene pop. She was panting, a thin sheen of sweat covering her skin, and he'd never been this fucking hard before, never wanted anything so much, but he had to taste her first. Had to have her legs over his shoulders before he finally sank into her warm, welcoming heat. He slid down her legs and pulled her gently closer to the edge of the low mattress, undoing his own zipper to free his cock, but he didn't risk touching himself, couldn't trust himself not to veer off and ruin his finely crafted plan.
He tugged her boots off impatiently, socks following in short order. She pushed herself back up on shaking limbs, eyes watching him as he sunk to his knees, his fingers plucking the button on her jeans, undoing the zipper carefully. His voice shook as he inched them down her creamy thighs, eyes on hers.
"I'm gonna spend some quality time down here beautiful." He wished his voice sounded steadier, but it sent a shiver through her anyway, he felt it under his fingers. "You alright with that?"
"Fuck." Her eyes were glued to his movements like a fish on a hook. "Fuck, you're trying to kill me."
He was trying to keep her alive and if this was what he had to do… well, he couldn't complain. A siren wailed outside, like one from a fire station, and dammit, that probably meant Sera had done some sort of entertaining mischief, but Varric didn't stop until her pants were off, until nothing but a thin scrap of silk separated him from his goal.
His mouth watered, but he was distracted momentarily by spiraling ink high up on her thigh. A band of lace, traced into her skin by skillful hands, the dips and curves of black mesmerizing. He looked up from the tattoo, up the length of her body, and met her lust darkened eyes. "Nice ink."
Maria's blatant hunger didn't fade from her face, but her lips quirked into something soft. "I'm fond of it." She admitted. He ran his fingers over the smooth lines and decided that was as good a place as any to start. When he pressed his lips against the soft skin of her thigh, tracing the lines with his tongue, Maria gasped audibly.
She fell back, bucking underneath him already, cursing him for his teasing while he smiled into her skin. Another siren joined the first, but he didn't care. He didn't care, her legs fell open and he was so close, so close…
Downstairs, the door banged open. He barely heard it over her reverberating moan, but enough of him was still functioning to know that a door banging open couldn't possibly be good for his unbearable state of arousal.
He'd fucking shoot them. If someone so much as came up those stairs, he'd…
"Herald! Herald!"
Of course it was fucking Curly, and of course his feet were on the bottom step. Varric heard it creak under the human's weight. He grabbed the closest scrap of fabric he could and threw it towards Maria, fumbling to shove his cock back in his pants despite the painful throb, despite his body protesting vigorously.
Despite the urge to give Curly a fucking show about what one did with beautiful dwarven damsels who teased a man to the edge of the void.
Maria sat up, clutching his shirt against her chest, snapping her legs closed and Varric was going to kill the man with his bare hands, was going to strangle him and throw him out in the snow…
"Herald! Herald, we…"
Curly had his assault rifle in his hands, but he nearly dropped it when he crested the stairs and took in the scene before him. Varric, bare chested, on his knees at the foot of the bed. Maria clutching his shirt and nothing else for modesty, all creamy naked skin flushed with heat and, Varric suspected, a healthy amount of anger.
"What?" Maria snapped. Cullen's mouth was hanging open, jaw so wide he could have swallowed Dorian's bird whole. Varric watched his open mouth work to try and say something, his eyes unwillingly tracing the line of Maria's shoulder.
"Maker's breath." Cullen exhaled, color rising in his face, raising the rifle as if he could cover his eyes with it.
"CULLEN!" Maria yelled, turning red as her hair, eyes crackling with fury.
"Hey Curly." Varric tried for casual. Hard to do with his cock painfully shoved back in his trousers and Maria's scent still hanging in the air, his face so damn close to his intended destination. "Fancy meeting you here."
That jerked Cullen from his reverie, made him squeeze his eyes shut so firmly Varric wouldn't be shocked if the man had a stroke. Another siren went off in the distance and dread began to trickle into the warm bubble in Varric's stomach.
"We are under attack." Cullen's words flew from between his clenched teeth even as his neck took on a splotchy red hue. "Please… please get dressed and join me outside. Quickly."
Well, shit. Varric swallowed his dismay, ignored the ache in his groin, and whipped his head back around to stare at Maria. The color was draining from her face and Varric's stomach lurched.
Varric thought he cheated Hawke's cards. But if anyone should have known better, it was him.