"You're shitting me." Varric narrowed his eyes at the elf. "What kind of pretentious asshole doesn't have any social media accounts?"
"One who prefers to spend his time offline." Solas didn't look up from the book he was reading, but Varric thought he saw the elf's ears twitch in suppressed irritation.
"Hey, I spend plenty of time offline!" Varric protested. Solas lowered the book just enough to meet Varric's eyes over the top of it.
"Mister Tethras, you have a computer stuffed in your ear at all times. I suspect even when you are bathing."
"How?" Cole asked from his position on the floor, tipping his head to the side introspectively as he examined Varric. "His ears aren't that big."
Varric didn't need to see Solas's entire face to know the arrogant elf was smirking. The eyes said it all.
"Who has big ears?"
Maria's voice drifted from the steps and he looked up to see her descending from the room every agreed belonged to her now, deliciously sleep rumpled and...
Andraste have mercy, she was wearing a pair of his sweatpants. She'd pulled the laces on them as tight as she could, double knotted them so they sat low on her hips. The tank top she wore obviously belong to the Seeker, it was at once too large (she'd used a hair tie to catch the extra fall of fabric, rendering it shorter and more manageable for her torso) and yet, too small, the fabric straining across her chest.
She needed her own clothing, stat, before she gave him a heart attack or set out seducing the faithful calling her their Herald. He coughed into his hand and swept his gaze back from the tantalizing peak of skin visible between where she tied the tank top and the waistband of his pants to her eyes. "Princess, if you're going to insist on looking better in my clothing and accessories than I do, we're going to have words."
"Well, you're the one who left them on my bed." She folded her arms under her chest, tone playfully scolding.
"I can't argue with the end results, but I certainly didn't." He leaned back in his chair, confused and a bit alarmed suddenly. Who the hell was going through his suitcase?
"They're soft. Warm. Like the ones at home." Cole interjected, worrying his knit cap between his fingers. "You like them. You didn't bring any clothes for sleeping, you thought you wouldn't."
He'd been robbed by a spirit. Well, it wasn't like that hadn't happened before. Once, Hawke pranked him by making her damn dog steal his boxers and spread them all over Hightown. It was all fun and games until a fan asked him to autograph a pair months later.
"Shit." Maria swore, brought the heel of her hand up to her forehead. "I'm sorry. I'll give them back, give me a second to change."
"But why?" Cole insisted, brow furrowed. "He doesn't mind."
He really didn't. Hell, if this tempting sight was the reward he'd give her full access to his suitcase. But, a more distressing and problematic thought entered his head. "Kid, who'd you nick that top from?"
"I didn't!" Cole protested. "She left it with the shorts, but you get cold, so I put the shorts in the drawer and got pants."
Well, at least they wouldn't have a half-naked Seeker tearing through looking for her clothing, although that would certainly be an amusing way to start their day. "Don't rush to get dressed on my account." Varric waved her down the steps impatiently. "We have a present for you."
"I am uninvolved." Solas sniffed behind his book disdainfully. Maria's lips twitched, a surge of amusement she couldn't hold back, but she remained stubbornly rooted to the steps as if too wary to descend.
Varric lifted the box from the table into the air. "We got you a phone."
"We did not." Solas muttered, sinking further down into his chair pointedly.
"Well, it was my idea." Varric grinned, unabashedly pleased with himself. "Unlike the old man over here, I knew a civilized person can't live without a cell phone in this day and age."
"You, Mister Tethras, were the one complaining about being too old to sleep on the couch." Solas muttered.
"You bought me a phone?" Maria stepped gracefully, quietly down the rest of the stairs. "Why?"
"I didn't buy it." Varric confided conspiratorially. "I own part of the company, so I just… kinda request them. You just need to turn it on."
"He was going to install apps for you." Cole looked up to meet Maria's eyes from spot on the floor. "But I didn't know the names of the ones you used, just the way they felt."
"It comes preloaded with some." Varric admitted. "None of that… junk that clogs up the other brands though. The normal shit, Facebook. Twitter. Instagram."
"I don't understand twitter." Cole sighed. "People are too big for two hundred and forty characters."
"Nobody understands Twitter, kid." Varric advised sagely, grinning down at the box in his hands. "This is one of the newest models, a marvel of modern technology. Beautiful six inch, high resolution display, five-hundred gigabytes of internal memory, twelve megapixel camera, water resistant, fast charging, longest lasting battery on the market, bionic sensors…"
"Do you need some time alone with it?" Maria teased. Varric chuckled, looked up…
In the time he'd been examining the box proudly, she'd crossed the room as silently as a spirit herself and now stood close enough to touch. She leaned over him in the chair and examined the item in his hand shrewdly. If he was so inclined, he could easily reach up and tug her into his lap.
If he was so inclined. He reminded himself that he definitely shouldn't be. The poor woman had enough problems without dealing with being an object of his lust, no matter how much she seemed to enjoy it. Besides, Varric wasn't capable of giving much more than a stellar performance in the bedroom. His heart wasn't his own. Hadn't been for a long time.
Varric was an author at heart, and he knew this story should end with her riding off into the sunset with someone altogether more appealing. Curly, maybe. He had the golden boy good looks.
"This is the model we send to our most exclusive customers, Princess." Varric continued as nonchalantly as he could, placing the box in her hands. "Hawke added some… special surprises."
This caught Solas's attention. He lowered the book from his face and stared at the box. "Such as?"
Varric did love an audience. He pulled his own, nearly identical phone from his pocket and placed it on the table between Solas and himself. Maria leaned closer, her arm brushing his, a waft of cinnamon trailing lightly from her swinging hair. Varric ignored it valiantly. "Once you activate the phone, put in all you biometrics, it creates a map of your unique aura. Virtual magical fingerprint, which means that you can't lose this beauty. If I walked out of this room without it, I'd find it in my pocket ten minutes later."
"Bullshit." Maria accused.
Varric shot her a wounded look. "Are you calling me a liar, Princess?"
"Yes." She smirked. "And a creative one."
He couldn't really argue with that. He shrugged, semi-abashed. "True as that may be, I wouldn't ever lie about our products. There's a sigil in the back that can help charge the battery with expended magical energy, an app to identify runes, charts to track the best times to grow herbs…"
"This is an abomination of technology and the arcane arts." Solas glared at the box, personally offended.
"That's hurtful, Chuckles." Varric tossed the box into the air, wasn't disappointed when Maria caught it and examined it critically, curiously.
His phone was the gold version, but for her, he'd gotten the silver one. To match her eyes. "How much do these retail for?" She asked in a hushed whisper.
"Technically, the ones loaded like this don't retail." Varric hated dealing with the chantry, the templars, the testing by all the witches at every damn circle in Thedas. "If it retailed, we'd have to do a shit ton of paperwork. Those are… personal favors. For friends and employees. The base model… shit, I think it's going for just shy of a thousand sovereigns."
Maria's laugh sounded a bit strangled. "I've never held anything this expensive before. I can't accept it." She admitted.
"Well, at least there are some perks to falling out of the sky, Princess." Varric watched as her desire overshadowed her pride and she opened the box, withdrew the styrofoam protecting the delicate, yet sturdy, creation. Her deft fingers made short work of the packaging. The only thing her model didn't have on it that his did was Bianca. Everything else… well, if she was going to be enmeshed in this weird shit, she needed the best available.
"I got you an Ostwick number, sorry, but it's not the same as your old one." He apologized, but Maria was shaking her head.
"No, that's… that's fine." She smiled, traced her finger down the slim metal case. "Good, even."
"Yes." Cole agreed. "The number is yours. No more hiding."
"Thank you." Maria interjected quickly before Cole could continue. "Thanks for the phone and… I guess letting me into your pants."
Her eyes danced with wicked, sinful amusement. Varric shrugged, ignored the answering thrum of his pulse. "Any time, Princess. Consider them both yours." He'd never be able to wear them again without imagining her warm body poured into them anyway.
"I'll try and pay you back." She swore. "Promise."
"Close that hole in the sky and I'll consider the debt repaid with interest." Varric offered gamely.
Maria sighed. "No pressure."
Wasn't that the truth. Before he could say anything else, she seemed to remember something, her hand flying to the pocket of the pants she wore and withdrawing a playing card, bent in half.
Except, on further examination, it wasn't a playing card.
Varric bit back an aggravated groan as she unfolded it and handed it to him. "Sorry, this was in the pocket last night. Is it yours or did Cole steal it?"
Pinched between her fingers, The Lovers stared up at him. Varric glared at it. "Sorry, that's just cursed. Maybe it'll start following you around now."
"It's not." Cole muttered, pale eyes flicking up. "Not cursed. Just a promise not made yet."
"I don't want your cursed cards, Tethras." Maria thrust out the card with playful irritation. "Take it back."
"Fine." Varric sighed, reaching out to take the card. "If you insist."
For a brief moment, they were both touching Hawke's tarot card, the thing a bridge between them. And in that second, Varric felt a surge of something like electricity crackle up his arm, something that made his hair stand on end.
Then she let go and stepped back, and it was over, but when his eyes careened from the card up to meet hers, he saw the same flicker of panic he'd felt dancing across her features. "What was that?" She asked, rubbing her right arm.
"I told you." Varric mumbled, stuffing the card into his journal as quickly as he could. "Cursed."
Maker, he was going to murder Hawke.
xx
"You know how to shoot."
Sometimes, when the Seeker said something, Maria really couldn't tell if she was asking a question or stating the obvious. She waited a beat, then a second one, before she risked answering. "Yes. I can also fold a fitted sheet and make a mean cocktail if you need to know my other talents."
She could probably add 'irritating Cassandra Pentaghast' to the list of things she was exceptionally good at, but she really didn't need to tell the Seeker what she already knew. Cassandra blew out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes heavenward as if seeking patience.
"Where did you learn to shoot?"
"Why do you need to know?" Maria asked suspiciously, reclining backwards against the bleachers behind her. They were in the basement of what used to be a high school, in what once served as the gymnasium. The scent of teenage sweat and hormones lingered, made her a bit nauseous. Instead of cheap plastic nets and basketballs, now the gym was full of weight lifting equipment, free standing punching bags, and blue foam mats.
Maria wondered what happened to all the kids, when they'd be going back to school. If they'd ever go back to school.
"I am taking you, a civilian, into an active war zone in three days." Cassandra explained through gritted teeth. "You appear to be adequately trained, but I need to know if it is luck or skill."
She bristled, irritated. "Luck? You don't make shots like I make and call it luck." Maria could shoot a copper thrown into the air at 90 feet. She wasn't just skilled, she excelled. "My father taught me."
"Was he a skilled marksman?" Cassandra interrogated. Maker, the woman could use some training on talking to people.
"Top of the Ostwick Police Officer's Academy." She shot back. "He taught all their recruits for ten years. You can fact check that if you want, Seeker."
Cassandra looked… stunned. "I… I did not realize your father was an officer and you a…"
She tipped her chin up defiantly. "A criminal?"
"Yes." Cassandra at least had the grace to admit it. Maria clenched her hands into fists, took a deep, calming breath.
"He died." She opened her eyes, was able to look at the Seeker with the same level of cool disdain she needed to maintain. "Years before I joined the Carta."
"In the line of duty?"
"No. And we're not talking about it."
Cassandra nodded as if she understood and Maria felt a bit of the tension bleed out of her body. "You are comfortable with which types of guns?" Cassandra asked.
All types, really. "I have an unregistered Glock nine milimeter in my bag at the house. Pistols are what I'm best with, but I can also handle most rifles as long as they're not too long. Shotguns are a bit harder for me, but manageable."
"We will register your gun." Cassandra muttered darkly. "To you."
"Good luck." Maria grinned. "Criminal, remember?"
"I am a Seeker." Cassandra declared imperiously. "I can override local law in order to combat dangerous magic."
Because that wasn't a slippery slope at all. What was it they said about absolute power? Still, she couldn't help but asking one question. "Why'd you become a Seeker?"
For a moment, Maria thought Cassandra would scoff and ignore her. Instead, the woman looked at her as if weighing the words she spoke very carefully. "I did not wish to. I wanted to become a templar. I witnessed blood witches murder my brother, I thought to get vengeance. I was sent to the Seekers instead."
Well. Shit. Maria scrambled for words to say to that, but the Seeker kept talking. "I trained for many years until I let go of my anger. The Seekers are… were an honorable organization."
The Chantry's secret police given authority to do anything regardless of laws in any given country, as long as it served their mission to hunt dangerous magic and bring corrupt templars to justice. Maria never heard them whispered about with anything but fear. She never heard anyone call them honorable.
While Maria thought over Cassandra's answer, Cassandra was not idle. She dumped a bin full of protective gear on the ground before looking back towards Maria. "Why did you join the Carta?"
Cassandra, Maria realized, only answered her question to get one of her own. Still, she supposed fair was fair. "I didn't want to." She admitted. "I needed a lot of money and I needed it fast. I was young and stupid enough to think I'd get out when I got what I needed."
But she'd examined that decision for years, mulled over all her other options at the time until her head hurt, and she still couldn't see any other alternative she could have lived with. Even if the price had been blood, at least it was hers.
"And will you return to that life? Truly?"
She looked away from Cassandra, focused on the limp blue mats lining the hard, painted floor, obscuring the lines marking a basketball court. Maria wasn't free, she was never going to be free. It didn't matter that she had an expensive cell phone in her pocket, one that only Bea had the number for, one whose messages and calls were blissfully, completely private.
The fact that the people smiled at her, both shy and eager in turns, meant nothing.
Solas calling her Miss Cadash like it never occurred to him to call her a rat or a whore. Varric's laughing, eyes alight with heat and something surprisingly gentle under it. None of it mattered, none of it was real or permanent.
If she lived after all this, she'd have to go back. She had no choice and she couldn't fool herself thinking otherwise. If she didn't live…
She had to. For Bea and Cole. Dying wasn't an option.
She shrugged as apathetically as possible. "Don't see many other career opportunities."
Cassandra threw the boxing gloves at her. Maria caught them before they slammed into her face, which was probably what Cassandra intended. Maria felt oddly almost glad for the distraction, it tore her away from the memory of beer soaked breath on the back of her neck. "You can shoot. Can you fight if need be? A witch sapped of its magic will use any other defense available."
"Their magic." Maria corrected harshly. "Unless, suddenly, these aren't people anymore."
"You support them?" Cassandra asked incredulously.
Maria saw the news footage of the Gallows and it made her skin crawl. Tiny, dark, dank cells with bars on the windows. The prisoners there barely had enough room to pace in the cages they were stuffed into. Sure, after that program aired lots of circles went live to show that wasn't how they did things.
It didn't matter. If one place could get away with it, they all could.
"I saw what they did in Kirkwall." Maria slipped the gloves on, tightened them around her wrists with her teeth before she continued. "I've been in more comfortable accommodations for criminal activities and I chose to do those things. The poor kids in those cells didn't choose to be what they are."
"They are dangerous." Cassandra scowled. "Kirkwall was a problem, but the solution is not to…"
"What is the solution then?" Maria asked.
Cassandra didn't have an answer. Nobody did, really. Cassandra sighed, shook her head. "I do not wish to fight with you."
Maria held up her fists. "Then why did you give me gloves?"
Almost against her will, Cassandra's lips twitched. She shook her head to clear it and turned to Maria, her own gloves on. "Do you know how to fight?"
"I trained with a famous boxer." She smirked.
"You are as bad as Varric with your stories." Cassandra shifted into a stance and inclined her head. "Try to hit me."
Oh, it felt like Maria had been waiting for Cassandra to say that. She looked down at the gloves and grinned, her heart brightening just a bit. She didn't know fuck all about the hole in the sky, about holy wars, magic, templars, witches. She barely understood how she'd gotten dragged into the middle of it.
But she did know how to hit things.
Cassandra's defensive stance favored the idea that Maria would come on straight ahead, exactly what a rookie would do. But Maria knew better. She feinted just like she was going dead center, then slipped left and jabbed her fist into the space below Cassandra's ribs. The woman grunted above her.
"I wasn't lying." Maria jumped back lightly. "About the famous boxer, anyway."
Cassandra's eyes narrowed and she moved forward, quick as lightning. Maria got her own fists up in time to barely deflect another blow. Something in her remembered this dance like it had been yesterday. Dodge, deflect, jab, thrust. She almost believed she was eighteen again, carefree, reckless, sure of herself.
Slowly she realized that Cassandra wasn't taking it easy on her any longer. The blows from the Seeker were coming at full force, quick and thunderous. Maria took a jab to the kidney that very nearly caused her to double over.
She wouldn't win in a fair fight against the Seeker, she couldn't match the human's strength or reach.
She remembered a booming voice shouting across a ring, instructing her not to fight harder, but to fight smarter. She let the next hit land on her shoulder, let the force turn her, watched as Cassandra's momentum carried her forward before the woman could quite catch herself. She landed an elbow in Cassandra's unguarded abdomen, weaving around the freestanding punching bag standing beside them and shoved it from behind with all her weight.
The bag toppled and Cassandra rolled out of the way, right where Maria wanted her. A solid right hook to Cassandra's kidney had the woman doubled over, although she still managed to raise up her left arm to block the second punch. Cassandra's eyes glared at her through smudged eyeliner.
"You cheat." She accused breathlessly. Maria shrugged.
"Yeah, when you're involved in an actual fight, people usually do."
She saw the gleam in Cassandra's eyes, but didn't translate it quickly enough. The woman's long human leg swept out from under her, catching Maria off guard and sending her sprawling onto her ass, head landing with a dull thud on the blue mat beneath her.
She should have been pissed, but instead all she could do was let out a startled laugh and cover her eyes with her arm, unwilling to stare into the bright glare of the fluorescent lights above them. "Didn't know you had it in you, Seeker."
"I have been involved in my share of actual fights." Cassandra almost sounded pleased. Maria lifted her arm from her eyes just enough to stare at the woman's thoughtful face before Cassandra thrust her arm out. Maria hesitated before she reached out and took it, leveraging herself off the ground with Cassandra's assistance.
"Templars without lyrium will also fight with whatever they have." Cassandra admitted. "Both sides care little for civilian casualties. You must be on your guard, but I will protect you to the best of my abilities."
"Nobody can protect anyone else, Seeker." Maria was too old to believe otherwise.
"Perhaps." Cassandra agreed. "But you can die trying."
Maria couldn't stop herself from gaping at the serious expression on Cassandra's face. She swallowed her shock and shook her head. "Let's try not to do that."
Cassandra allowed herself a small smile. "I will make every effort."
On the bleachers, Maria's new phone buzzed. A distance away, Cassandra's did as well. Cassandra strode over to it gracefully, threw a towel back at Maria to mop her face off with before she picked up the sleek dark device she carried.
Maria wiped her face briskly. When she lowered the towel she found Cassandra scowling down at her phone. "What's wrong?"
"Josephine sent our press release revealing your identity."
Cassandra said it in the same exact tone Maria thought she'd use if she said something like 'we are about to be attacked by bloodsucking vampires.' She sounded both grim and determined. Maria swallowed her own anxiety and schooled her features. "Great, which mugshot did they use?"
She really hoped it wasn't the one from the bar fight. Or the one they'd taken after she'd been arrested in Hercinia. Cassandra looked up from her phone, perplexed.
"We did not use a mugshot." She said, pushing her phone towards Maria. "Your sister sent photos at Josephine's request."
Hell, it would have been easier to use a damn mugshot. Maria couldn't think of the last time she'd posed for a photo with anyone, even Bea who took damn pictures of everything. Which meant they'd used one of the ones she didn't realize Bea was taking. She kinda would have preferred the mug shot from the bar fight in that case. She took Cassandra's phone with no small degree of trepidation, looked down into the screen.
She recognized the photo immediately. In it, Maria wasn't looking at the camera, she was staring at something off to the side. Her form sprawled on a park bench, the leaves around her nearly the same shade as her hair, a book open on her lap. Bea dragged her to that damn city park last fall, tried to convince her to do yoga with her, but Maria sat it out and read instead.
It had been a pretty day, and Maria had to admit she looked nice in the picture, but there was a layer of something pensive over her expression. Maria knew what she'd seen the moment this picture had been taken, her attention drawn away from Bea by a figure entering the park. Bea hadn't realized it until she too had turned around after snapping the photo.
Maria wondered if someone zoomed in on her pale eyes they could see Dwyka reflected there like her own personal demon.
