Let no one say Maria Cadash couldn't follow instructions when the situation required it. Despite the fact that her head hit the dock hard enough to make her eyes water, her gun found its way into her hand by the time she rolled onto her side. She even managed to hold it steady enough to take a shot at one of the figures emerging, shooting, from the other side of the lake.

Help or get out. Fuck this guy.

"Expecting company?" She asked instead, impressively pithy in her own mind despite the lingering breathlessness of a large human landing on her. She could feel the bruises forming already. "I seem to have interrupted something."

"I've had worse interruptions, but yes." Blackwall grumbled. "You're a hell of a shot though."

She couldn't help it, she laughed at the flicker of pleasant surprise animating the gruff man's features. She could guess that Blackwall was a simple man, the kind that preferred his women easy, his beer cheap, and his shots straight. Altogether, an uncomplicated life.

It must be nice to have something like that.

And then, the dock exploded in splinters beside her, high velocity ammunition sending slivers of wood flying. She heard Cassandra holler, but there wasn't anything to do except…

She winced internally. There was nowhere to go, exposed as she was, except roll off the dock and into the green water below. Maria debated, in a split second, whether death was preferable to the inevitable hypothermia. And then, with a resigned groan, she rolled.

The water sent a shock through her, so icy cold it burned her skin. Still, she had enough presence of mind to hold her gun high up out of the water, preventing it from being submerged at the very least. The water itself came up to her shoulders, enveloping her from the neck down in freezing, dirty water. A part of her screamed in frustration. The other part of her took careful aim and dropped a woman pointing a rifle at Cole.

"Herald!" Solas shouted from above.

"I'm fine!" She sputtered in aggravation. She'd never be warm again, her clothes were probably ruined, along with her new phone, and she was in water that housed living fish, but otherwise alive. "And don't bleedin' call me Herald!"

Cassandra's scoff carried the whole way under the dock. Maria ducked behind one of the support posts as best she could, managing to drag herself another inch or so out of the slimy water. "Who are these people?" She shouted upwards.

"Thugs and lowlives!" Blackwall answered sharply. "Preying on the people trapped up here by the war. Formed their own little militia and…"

He didn't finish his sentence, instead picking off two of the gang circling them. "I decided to give them some payback for their victims." He continued dourly.

Well, she supposed Grey Wardens had to do something when there wasn't a blight. Maria remembered the horrid images from the last one. She'd been immersed in her own problems, honestly, and the blight was occuring safely across the Waking Sea so it seemed like a distant concern. Still, she'd spent many nights curled up on a couch next to Fynn watching starving children covered in reeking black sores flash on the news. It seemed surreal, unbelievable, to sit and sip hot coffee with Fynn's arm a comforting weight on her shoulders and watch those images. Almost as surreal as picturing that cozy domestic scene and contrasting it with her current life.

If the priests were right about the blight being sent to punish the world for their sins… well, maybe the world deserved it.

As quickly as it began, the skirmish ended. Maria watched the last figure drop with cool detachment and waited in the piercing silence that always followed shots being fired. Not even the birds dared chirp for fear of drawing attention from the killers below. It was a shame, really, Maria had been enjoying her little nature excursion.

"Maker's ass, Maria." Varric must have been irritated if he wasn't calling her Princess or beautiful or any number of his cute little nicknames. "Would it kill you to try not rushing into danger?"

Before she could summon up an appropriate retort, a long muscled arm dangled off the dock covered in sparse black hair, flannel rolled and cuffed at the elbow. Blackwall reached for her insistently. "C'mon lass. Up you go."

She didn't seriously believe the man could lift her up to the dock one handed, but she decided to humor him. Sighing, she reached up on her tiptoes, boots squelching into the silt beneath her feet. The Warden grabbed her hand securely and pulled.

Perhaps the word 'hauled' would be more apt. Maria found herself lifted into the air like she weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes. She let out an undignified squeak before she found herself, shivering, sopping wet, and once more securely back on the old wooden dock staring up at the human.

"You alright?" Blackwall asked, narrowing his eyes and sweeping them across her face up to her temples and down her jaw.

"I just ruined my new boots, but I'll live." Maria stated breezily, shaking her head to try and clear it. "Why?"

Blackwall didn't answer, he simply coughed and pointed his eyes down at Maria's right hand. The traitorous appendage wrapped its fingers solidly around the prominent muscles that pulled her up in a way that reminded her of the covers of shitty romance novels.

She dropped her hand immediately with a startled laugh at herself and brought it instead up to tap playfully against the human man's shoulder instead. "Look at you! I've never met a Warden before, are they all so properly heroic?"

"If you've never met a Warden before, why are you…" Blackwall began.

"We are with the Inquisition." Cassandra broke in and stepped forward, thrusting her arm out. "I am Seeker Pentaghast. This is…"

Before Cassandra could introduce her, a cutting wind blew through the trees and right through Maria's sopping wet coat and jeans. She shuddered and winced, immediately reaching up to unzip the jacket and shrugging it off. The top underneath, unfortunately, was just as soaked. The fabric clung to her skin and turned to ice.

"I can make a fire." Solas muttered, turning to the shoreline. His eagle eyes not missing her discomfort for a moment.

"Or we can break into a cabin." Varric offered, pointing to the few dotting the lakeshore. "If the Seeker is with us, we can't even be arrested for it later."

"I've been staying in that one." Blackwall jerked his thumb to the right. "We can get a blaze going and get you out of those clothes."

She couldn't help herself. She never could. She cast her eyes up to the Warden with a cocky challenge. "Promise?"

She grinned as the man turned red beneath his salt and pepper beard. She heard him mutter a curse under his breath before he grabbed his own gear. Cassandra heaved a great sigh and shoved Maria around towards the shore, nearly right into Varric. The other dwarf caught her with one gloved hand on her arm and a grinning challenge to match her own. "Princess, I'm not sure Hero here would know what to do with you."

The underlying promise being that Varric Tethras certainly would. The thought of it was enough to make her head spin.

Solas made the dryer work despite the fact the cabin didn't have working electricity, and if that wasn't a fucking sign from the Maker that locking witches up in dismal little prisons was a crime, she didn't know what was. She'd have almost all her clothing back, mercifully dry, in an hour. As a bonus, Varric popped a couple of tiny screws on her fancy new phone with his dexterous fingers and pronounced it perfectly functional, exactly as designed, water resistant up to six feet.

Maria was so grateful she didn't even tease him when he lingered over the phone with a fond caress before putting it all back together as quick as she pleased. He even managed to keep his eyes rather gentlemanly on her face. Maker knew Blackwall was trying too, but either he was less a gentleman or more easily caught.

While they dried her clothes, Maria donned a shirt Blackwall generously donated. Cassandra's borrowed shirts were both frustratingly too long and too tight around her damn chest, but she didn't have the same issue with the dark green flannel Blackwall gave her. It was like wearing a blanket with sleeves, the novelty of the buttons actually buttoning the whole way up quickly lost by the amount of times she needed to roll the sleeves to even be able to use her hands. It stopped rather chastely an inch or two above her knees.

She felt like a child wearing her father's shirts again, but Blackwall couldn't seem to look at her directly at all. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on Cassandra while she explained what exactly the Inquisition was, but his eyes flicked to her thighs like magnets any time she shifted.

"I know who your Nightingale is looking for." Blackwall muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a scowl. "But I've not seen or heard from her in ages. The girl is in the wind, doubt her man will let her surface before this war with the witches blows over."

"The girl?" Maria pressed, stretching her legs out closer to the cheerfully crackling fire. Beside her, Cole stretched out his skinny fingers and watched the flickering flames cast dancing lights over them.

"Minister Amell." Cassandra sighed. "Leliana and she are close."

Maria didn't pay much attention to anything in the news, but she knew that name. "The witch? The one who won the civil war for King Alistair Theirin?"

Varric huffed, amused. "So the Chantry was looking for two of the most powerful witches in Thedas, the only ones with some measure of freedom, and we're expected to believe that it wasn't ill intentioned at all?"

"Is she really a Warden?" Maria didn't care for the flash of anger coming over Cassandra's face or the smug satisfaction on Varric's. Both boded poorly for the hike back if they kept snapping at each other.

The rumors about Chantal Amell ran wild. Right when the blight first began to spread in Southern Ferelden, the former King was found murdered. His trusted Minister, and his father-in-law, assumed control of the country and blamed the murder on the Wardens who'd come to help the ill and dying. He said they'd been working to destabilize the region so Orlesians could profit off their plentiful natural resources in the chaos.

Maria remembered Fynn chuckling ruefully and pointing out that it wasn't as far-fetched as she thought it, the Dwarven Financiers were capable of that kind of despicable capitalistic machinations all on their own, if Orlais backed it…

And nobody knew anything about the Wardens. All anyone seemed to know about them was that they were the only ones who could save anyone from the Blight and without their efforts, the sickness would continue to spread unchecked.

All anyone seemed to agree on about the Ferelden civil war was that the King's half brother escaped Minister Loghain with the assistance of a rather clever witch named Chantal Amell, the same one who helped him form an army and destroy the man he said murdered his brother. Perhaps the witch was his lover, perhaps he'd sold his soul to a demon for her power, but he wore the crown in the end.

And the blight ended in Ferelden.

"Aren't you the dwarf constantly hanging onto the Champion's skirts?" Maria thought, for a second, he was speaking to her. Blackwall was glaring at Varric over her head though. "Serah Hawke started this war that forced her cousin into hiding. Perhaps someone should speak to her."

"Hawke didn't start anything except several fashion trends and a few knitted scarves she never got around to finishing." Varric waved his hand dismissively.

"Cousin?" Maria broke in, dumbfounded. She was ignored.

"Besides, I don't know where Hawke is." Varric stated firmly with a steely glare. He crossed his arms over his impressive chest hair as if the discussion was over.

Cole reached out and took Maria's hand, squeezing her fingers gently in his and tugging her towards him. She allowed herself to lean towards him just enough for Cole to press his dry lips to the shell of her ear and whisper so quietly, she barely heard it.

"He hid the hawks, but not the crows."

Maria Cadash, honestly, wasn't that surprised to learn Varric was a hell of a liar. It took one to know one, after all. She nodded to Cole and stored the information away. Cassandra Pentaghast would kill him if she found out and… Varric had been kind to her when he didn't have to be. She could count the number of people that treated her like a flesh and blood person since she woke up on one hand, she owed him for that. If Cassandra had come asking her to give up Bea, after all, Maria would have lied and lied until she turned blue. She couldn't fault someone for the same sin she'd commit.

"Leliana said all the Wardens are missing, except you." Maria narrowed her eyes at Blackwall thoughtfully. "Why are you still here?"

"Maybe I was getting around to disappearing. Maybe I never got the text. Orders get lost, and I'm not… I'm not one to talk to the others much unless I'm needed." Blackwall muttered, shook his head.

There was something there, some bit of personal drama or internal politics that Maria didn't care to explore. She felt herself deflate a bit. So much for doing something on her own initiative to help out, she was leaving Blackwall empty handed. It felt… a bit like a failure she'd be taking back to Leliana. It was even more bitter knowing that Leliana was doing so much to keep her life back in Ostwick from imploding while she was stuck in Ferelden.

"Right." Maria stood quickly, frustrated. "Let's go then, if you don't know anything this was a waste of time." She wouldn't be able to look at Cassandra in the face again after this misadventure anyway. She could hear the 'I told you so' already.

"Wait." Blackwall protested, scratching at his beard. His eyes finally managed to meet hers despite a hint of crimson beneath his facial hair. "With this… shit. Divine's dead. Big fuckin' tear in the world. The Wardens should be involved in fixing it. I've not got much, but I can shoot. Leliana knows she can trust me. I'd come with you, Herald."

"Maria." She corrected immediately, but even she could tell she was fighting a losing battle at this point in time. "I'm not… I know everyone seems to think I am but I'm just some dwarf."

"Some dwarf trying to do the right thing." Blackwall's eyes flashed meaningfully. "More than I can say for some."

She could almost hear Varric rolling his eyes and Maria wanted to laugh. Some people, she thought, were so sure they knew what the right thing was. She didn't know if she was worried by their certainty or envious of it.

Fynn always knew, he'd always been so damn certain of himself. She rubbed her thumb briskly across the flannel rubbing her wrist and shot a look at Cassandra who simply shrugged and scowled.

"We do not have room in the SUV. He will have to find his own way."

Blackwall laughed. "I have my own ride, Lady Seeker."

"Alright then." Maria shrugged. "Come join the crazy Chantry people."

Both Solas and Varric barely covered their respective laughter.

xx

Varric Tethras had better days. He hadn't really prepared himself to worry about Maria Cadash, hadn't realized how much he would worry about her until he watched her plunge into the cold lake water beneath the docks. For a brief moment, his heart felt as frozen as the ground around them right before he'd heard her respond to Solas.

Then he briefly considered shoving her into the mud himself for worrying him, but his irritation quickly passed into a rather unfair amount of jealousy when he saw her clutching another man's muscled, hairy arm.

His own arms were more impressive after all, thank you very much.

Then there was the blasted shirt, the oversized flannel that his vivid imagination ran away with the moment he saw her in it. His first thought had been that she looked endearingly adorable, instantly younger.

He hadn't really had a second thought when his eyes skimmed down the the milky pale thighs beneath the hem and his traitorous mind reminded him that, yes, her underwear were probably in the dryer too. Instead he'd been consumed with a consuming need to touch, explore, confirm that the skin there was just as soft as he thought it was. He wanted her legs over his shoulders and his mouth between her thighs and her fingers twisting into his hair.

If Maria Cadash was the Maker's Herald, Varric was going right to the void for lusting after her body. That had to be against some kind of holy rule. This thought, combined with a rather lengthy self-lecture on priorities and how Maria had enough problems, was the only thing stopping him from contriving some sort of scenario where she'd need to bend over in that ridiculous shirt.

At least Varric exercised some sort of self-control. Their new Warden friend could barely keep his covetous eyes inside his skull.

Maybe that's why the last bit of the day's events felt like the straw that broke the camel's back. Rainier agreed to meet them at the Crossroads station and follow them back to Haven. Maria's virtue was finally safe because she was back in her own damn clothes, and Varric allowed himself lulled into a false sense of security by Harding's cheerful chatter while she showcased her cut together footage she planned on showing Josephine.

Varric felt his heart sink the moment he looked up at the rumble of an approaching motorcycle and saw Maria's eyes light up with unrepentant joy. As soon as he saw that expression, he knew what would happen next.

"If I ride with Blackwall, Harding can go with you now instead of waiting for Mother Giselle to be ready." Maria wheedled, one hand on Blackwall's bike. Solas's lips twitched in amusement, but Varric had to admit he shared the Seeker's same general stance on this idea. She looked abjectly disapproving. "Josie wants that footage as soon as she can get it."

"Great idea!" Harding grinned. "I'll get my stuff."

"No." Cassandra stated. "It is too dangerous."

"But…"

"No!" Cassandra snapped, throwing her hands in the air. "I will not stand by while you recklessly cavort around the countryside on a motorcycle in a war zone! You are being foolish!"

With that, Cassandra turned on her heel and walked back into the train station, leaving the rest of their group standing by rather awkwardly. Maria hunched her shoulders forward, both rebellious and cowed. Varric watched her kick the concrete with the toe of her boot before she sighed.

She hadn't taken her hand off Blackwall's motorcycle, but her fingers finally dropped away from the sleek machine and she looked up, both apologetic and defeated. "Sorry." She muttered to Blackwall. "I'd take off with you myself, but I'm not sure how to get back to Haven from here."

"It's alright." Blackwall said gruffly. "I'll take you out at Haven, if you like."

"I've always wanted to ride on one." Maria's voice held notes of wistful longing and… damnit.

Varric didn't like the idea of her going out on that bike with a stranger, no matter how much Nightingale trusted him. Varric liked that injured, hopeless look on her face even less. He thought it looked like Maria Cadash was in the middle of internally scolding herself for even asking for something.

"Free. Wind whips her hair back, rips everything but herself away. Breathless and finally able to breathe." Cole muttered from where he sat cross legged on the ground, so quiet Varric doubted anyone could hear him.

Damnit, he was a sucker.

"Bianca." His earpiece chirped to life in his ear and Maria looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "Can you send the route we used to get here to Maria Cadash's phone?"

"Should I check it for potential hazards?" Bianca asked smoothly. Varric chuckled under his breath.

"Yeah, I doubt she's looking to get murdered by anyone except Cassandra for this stunt." Varric grumbled. Solas's lips broke into the first true smile he'd seen on the elf. Maria froze, eyes wide. Varric pinned her with what he hoped was an appropriately serious expression. "You die out there without us, I don't want to hear about it."

Maria's own lips turned up into a smile both tentative and on the edge of radiant. "Really?"

"Really." Varric half-groaned. Bianca chirped in his ear.

"Message sent." She confirmed. Varric heard Maria's own phone beep from within her jacket pocket and he jerked his chin.

"Better get going before the Seeker gets back. Have a nice, cold ride through the war torn countryside you nug brained…"

Before he could finish, Maria Cadash flung her arms around his neck and pressed a fiery kiss against his cheek with a lighthearted smile. "Thank you." She breathed, breath warm on his stubble.

"Don't say I never did anything to aid in your race to self-destruction." He mumbled while she tore herself away from him and beamed up at Blackwall. The man slung his own too long legs over the bike before grabbing her and helping her clamber on. She tucked her arms around his waist, but it was Varric she winked at before Blackwall's motorcycle roared to life.

He'd never forget the picture she made, red hair shining in the late afternoon sun, worn leather jacket barely thick enough to fight the cold, and her grin both reckless and sure. Then, the wheels spun and just like that, she was gone.

"If I thought that was completely altruistic, Mister Tethras, I'd thank you profusely." Solas muttered.

"Of course it was altruistic!" Varric protested. "I'm offended by the connotation."

"Happy." Cole beamed up from where he sat, hat barely obscuring his gleaming eyes. "You made her happy."

Varric didn't have a damn motorcycle, but he had Maker-given brains and the wherewithal to use them.

"Take that, Hero." He muttered smugly to himself.

H: Zev wasn't gonna let Chantal get caught up in this mess. Especially risk people connecting her with Anders?
V: She always warned us about that damn cat.
H: weird that she's not answering Leliana though. they're bffs from what I've heard.
H: you know what, she was looking into the red lyrium for me before shit hit the fan. I'll see if I can't get a hold of her.
H: one fugitive to another and whatnot
H: Bethy says hi. I asked Fen if he wanted to say hello, he grunted. take it as you will.
V: Tell him I said right back at him in the most friendly terms. Then tell Sunshine I miss her and I'll have tons of stories saved up for her and only her.
H: stop flirting with my sister or I'll light your chest hair on fire

Varric couldn't hide his smirk while he backpedaled out of the secure messaging app. He chanced a glance at the back of the Seeker's neck, still a rather impressive shade of crimson since she'd come out and discovered Maria Cadash missing. They'd been driving for two hours, but the Seeker seemed intent on maintaining her fury until she found the missing dwarf.

Luckily, Solas, Cole, and Harding all came to an unspoken agreement not to rat Varric out for his assist. Or, at the very least, to blackmail him with it later.

His phone chimed and Varric looked down, half-expecting to see the secure messaging app flashing with more playful threats from Hawke. Instead, Bianca Davri's name flashed across the screen. Varric opened the message.

Bianca: The AI says your request for Cadash's trial records got denied?

Varric frowned before he tapped out his reply.

Varric: Yeah, Hercinia said they're rejecting all requests.
Bianca: Try any other channels yet?

Varric's' frown deepened.

Varric: Wasn't planning on it.
Bianca: Seriously? The unendingly curious doesn't want the whole story? Who are you and what did you do to Varric?
Varric: She's got enough problems without people prying into her past.

Varric remembered Maria's quiet admission that she knew what her boss was capable of. She ran his protection racket, she smuggled his lyrium, but she didn't hurt people. That's what she said and Varric believed her. Whatever she'd done in Ostwick, whatever happened in Hercinia… well, the world was ending and they were all probably going to die trying to fix it. That seemed more important. Varric watched the dots that signified Bianca was typing. They appeared, then vanished. Appeared again, vanished again. Then one last time before the message came through.

Bianca: She is pretty for Carta, isn't she? I wondered if she was into drugs, but she doesn't have the look of someone feeding a habit.
Varric: Isn't that a bit beneath you?
Bianca: Honestly, Varric. I don't have a claim on you, do whatever you want.
Bianca: But you've always been a sucker for a pretty face and you know it.

It was no use. Bianca always had to get the damn last word. Varric pressed his knuckles to his forehead and dug them into his skin.

"Eyes."

The word fell out of Cole's mouth and Harding tipped her head in his direction inquisitively. "The eyes have it? Eyes and ears? Don't leave us hanging."

"Her eyes. Sparkling like the ocean in Rivain on the day she didn't come. Blue like the stones in the necklace he gave her, the one you couldn't afford."

Varric didn't slump down in his seat, but it was a close thing. He looked out the window instead. "Yeah kid, that's her."

Cole paused, thoughtful, examining his long fingers before looking up again. "It's the eyes for you. It always has been. She knows. She sees the storm in gray eyes, knows you like the rain."