AN: Guys, I am *so* sorry. I didn't abandon this or any of my other works. I actually got ridiculously ill and ended up with pneumonia and some complications. I'm back up and about, but ridiculously behind on everything in both work and personal life. I will try to update lots, but I need to get some other projects done too. Sorry!

Getting the invitation to Val Royeaux was the damn easy part. There was an airport in Redcliffe, but the gates to the city were firmly barred to the upstart Inquisition. That left two options, neither good, to get their Herald to Val Royeaux. A long train ride over Southern Orlais, unhelpfully wracked by civil war, or hitching a ride on a freighter going to Nevarra then taking a train through Northern Orlais, risking running into the various criminal gangs using that route to smuggle both people, drugs, and lyrium.

One of those gangs was the Ostwick Carta. There was a chance Maria's connection could grease the wheels and get them moving. There was also a pretty substantial chance either a rival gang or her own former colleagues would take the shot in revenge for any number of imagined slights.

Which is how he found himself sandwiched on a high speed train flying through the Frostback mountains after leaving from Jader on the less criminal southern route. Maria sat beside the window, countryside flying past her, thick black glasses perched on her nose. He had his own silver frames on his face and trusted both they and a fedora pulled down low would do enough to disguise his identity. In the seats in front of them, Solas and Cole whispered quietly.

"Their father didn't teach them to talk." Cole muttered. "They shouldn't fight. The brothers should share their hurt."

"Often a problem with fathers." Solas sighed.

Behind him, Varric heard Blackwall groan while he stretched, the boots kicking the back of Varric's seat. "Could you be a little more gentle the next time we spar, Cassandra?"

"Why?" Cassandra asked. "You can take it."

"Yes, but I'd rather not."

The Seeker actually laughed before she taunted Blackwall. "I did not realize you were made of glass."

"Bruised glass, thank you."

Varric huffed and looked to his left. "Hey Harding…"

"Busy." The other dwarf waved her hand to shoo him.

"I was just wondering…"

"Nope." Harding reached for a pair of headphones and Varric collapsed back in his seat, defeated. He turned a wounded glare on Maria, who didn't quite hide the twitch of her smile quickly enough. She had his book open and she was on Chapter three, he thought. A part of him wanted to let her read, really. She hardly got any time to herself.

The rest of him was pretty damn bored. "Thoughts so far, Princess?"

"Off to a slow start." Despite the glasses changing her looks just enough to hide her in the crowd, it did nothing to mask her facial expressions. The amusement flickered over her features plainly. "The author's a bit verbose."

"Everyone's a critic." Varric huffed, craning his neck to see which page Maria found herself on. "Did you get to the part where…"

"Don't spoil it!" Maria protested, laughing. The laughter died on her lips as her phone buzzed inside her pocket. She held her place with one finger and dug into her coat, pulling out the black phone she'd been 'gifted' days before by the spymaster.

She always looked fucking miserable whenever that thing went off. "Geesh, Nightingale won't let you alone for a minute. Tell her you're on vacation."

"No rest for the wicked." Maria unlocked the phone's screen with one hand and read whatever flashed across the screen. It made her frown severely, the amusement fading from her face like the sun going behind the clouds. She tapped out a response and slipped the phone back into her pocket before she slumped into her seat and looked out at the countryside rushing past. Varric wanted to take that damn black phone out of her pocket and chuck it out the window. She sighed and looked back down at the book, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. Then she frowned and looked back over at him.

"Do you have anything I can use as a bookmark?"

"Can't dogear it?" Varric suggested. Immediately her lips popped open in stunned disbelief.

"I didn't know you were a damn monster." Maria complained. "Dog-earring a book? What kind of sick…"

He watched her shoot both demons and people, but the expression she wore reminded him exactly of his old school librarian, both scandalized and amused. He flashed her his best roguish grin and reached into his stylish leather briefcase, grabbing his journal. He intended on ripping out a piece of paper, but the second he opened it a card fell into his lap.

The card.

Varric picked it up and glared at the entwined figures of The Lovers before tossing it at Maria Cadash. It landed harmlessly in her lap and she picked it up warily. "Why do you keep trying to pawn your cursed tarot card off on me?"

"It's not cursed." Cole protested quietly in front of them. Solas hushed him.

"It would serve Hawke if I lost it somehow." Varric grumbled quietly. "This is why making friends with witches is a dangerous occupation. It's all fun and games until you're being stalked by a damn card."
"She cursed it to follow you around?" Maria raised an eyebrow. "To do what? Irritate you?"

Probably. Varric wouldn't put it past her. Still, he watched cautiously as Maria placed the card between the pages and closed the book. She then, endearingly, held the book up and looked at the card stuck between the covers closely. "It's not going to be a sensible choice as a bookmark if it walks off and I lose my place."

"The dog-earring suggestion still stands."

She didn't bother with the retort, instead she slapped the book against his thigh with more sound than actual force. Varric scowled playfully in return and tugged the book out of her hand. "No acts of violence until we get to Val Royeaux, Princess. You promised Ruffles."

Now he had her full attention and he was feeling much less bored. She allowed him to take the book and propped her chin in her hand while watching him carefully. "So, I thought tarot cards were the shtick of cheap Rivaini fortune tellers."

"I thought so too. Chantry frowns on fortune telling, but Hawke had a gift." Varric shrugged. "She's not wrong very often."

"She didn't see any of it coming though?" Maria frowned. "The red lyrium, the war, the chantry…"

"She saw all of it." Varric remembered Hawke glaring at her cards for weeks before the chantry blew up, pacing back and forth while Bethany tried to soothe her and Fenris bitched about damn magic being a constant menace in his life. "Nothing specific, that's the rub. She always sees the impending disaster, but never with enough clarity to figure it out."

All she did, all she ever did, was make herself sick with worry. Varric remembered the night she turned over a card with a skull on it. Remembered the way she wailed holding Leandra's dead body that it was her fault, as if Hawke had invited death into their home. And yet, Hawke always looked. She couldn't help looking.

"That sounds like the real curse." Maria sunk into her seat further. "To know and be helpless anyway? What a shitty gift. She should send it back."

"She'd probably agree."

"So…" Maria trailed off and tilted her head to the side. "What a provocative card to force into following you. I thought Hawke was with that elf, the one who always looks like he's two seconds away from shooting someone."

"You're definitely asking for spoilers now, Princess." Varric grinned. "Hawke's love life is detailed in chapters six, twelve, eighteen, twenty-three, and…"

"It is not chapter twelve, it is chapter fourteen." Cassandra corrected adamantly. Both dwarves turned to stare at her through the crack in the seat. Cassandra couldn't shut her mouth fast enough, the click of her jaw was audible.

"Seeker, you only read the rough draft." Varric scolded. "The full finished product is a hundred times better."

"How many times did you read it before stabbing it?" Maria teased, bright eyed. Cassandra rolled her eyes, but Maker, Varric thought the woman was blushing.

"Were there many changes between the draft I read and the final product?" Cassandra tried to act nonchalant. Varric wasn't buying it, he narrowed his eyes.

"You liked it!" He accused with a low whistle.

"I told you she was your biggest fan." Maria whispered low. "You should sign a copy and give it to her."

"If she asks nicely." Varric muttered.

"I am not…" Cassandra protested.

"One by one they follow me, laughing, drowning, into the sea." Cole muttered loud enough that the person next to Harding eyed him nervously. "The rest of the poem is sad."

"But the start was so cheery." Blackwall half-sighed. All of them shut up at the quiet soft exclamation that fell from Maria's mouth when she turned towards Cole. Her eyes had landed instead on the window, the countryside replaced by an endless expanses of sea stretching to their east. This, Varric knew, was the narrowest part of the Waking Sea, the only part with a bridge spanning side to side.

"Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall." Varric murmured, leaning over Maria's form to peer at the sunlight glinting off the ocean. And somewhere, in the Free Marches, his friends were hiding, waiting for this nightmare to be over.

"You'll be home soon." Maybe he was imagining the sound of wistful sadness in Maria's voice. Her eyes were pointed firmly at the window so he couldn't pinpoint the emotions in them. He almost opened his mouth to repeat her words back to her, but then thought better of it.

He had something to miss, a life he enjoyed. Maria… well, she had her sister, and he thought they were closer than he and Bartrand had ever been judging by the snippets of conversation he'd heard, the little whispers of things Cole said, but the rest…

Well, the rest didn't seem like much worth missing. "You could come to Kirkwall after this is all over." He kept his voice light, neutral. "There are worse places to be."

Behind him, Blackwall huffed. "Not many."

"Ah, but it's the best kind of shithole. Full of the best people in Thedas." Varric continued expansively.

"Or the most notorious criminals." Cassandra muttered.

"Like I said, the best kind of people." Varric grinned and Maria's lips twitched. He pushed onwards, watching the blurry reflection of her face in the window. "Think about it Princess. What have you always wanted to do?"

"Exotic dancing. " Maria teased, finally pulling her eyes from the window as they finished crossing the bridge. Cassandra groaned and Solas rubbed his face briskly in front of them. "I bet I'd make bank on the religious crowd."

"Dramatic readings of the Chant of Light wearing nothing but a sister's hat?" Varric chuckled. "Maker, you'd be rich."

"Please stop." Cassandra begged.

"But you want a bookstore." Cole swivelled in his seat, confused, guileless gaze landing on Maria. "Like the one in Hercinia where the cashier made you coffee and the dog slept behind the counter. The words climbed the walls and you blossomed like ivy and…"

"Cole." Maria stopped him gently. "I know, sweetheart. I was joking."

"Oh." Cole stuttered to a stop and she shook her head, meeting Varric's gaze and stiffening at whatever she saw in his gaze.

It was cute that she wanted a bookstore of all things, and he didn't expect her to cute and capable of hotwiring a car at the same time. "You'd make more money as a stripper." He pointed out playfully.

"It isn't about the money." She stated stubbornly. "Money isn't important as long as you've got enough to live off of. Enough to take care of your family."

It was a conversation he'd had with Bianca, with Bartrand, and he'd been on the losing side. Hawke had agreed with him, wanting only enough to keep Sunshine and herself out of the Gallows. The rest of their friends, for the most part, happily lived with just enough to get by.

The more he learned about Maria Cadash, the more he liked her, and judging by the pleased silence around them, he wasn't the only one.

"Keep that attitude, Princess." Varric handed Maria her book back. "We may need it."

xx

The bells of Val Royeaux rang continuously. Maria shifted anxiously from foot to foot and looked up at Cassandra. "Are those friendly bells or burn the witch bells?"

"The city is in mourning." Cassandra scowled as the crowd around them thinned. An electronic billboard showed an ad for facial cream guaranteed to make you look ten years younger. Maria fought the urge to crane her neck upward and count the rising skyscrapers above her. She'd lived in the city of Ostwick all her life, but this…

This was a city of glass and mirrors, both more spectacular and more beguiling than anything she'd ever seen. They seemed to go on forever, a veritable forest of Orlesian buildings, each more impressive and opulent than the next. She was sure there were areas full of squat, run down tenement buildings like the kind she knew from Ostwick, but the glitzier areas of her hometown couldn't compare. Nothing could.

It was just like on TV, and still she hadn't been prepared.

"Never been to Val Royeaux?" Blackwall chuckled warmly. "You're doing well, so far. Wait until you see the brothels."

"You will not be seeing the brothels." Cassandra replied primly. "We are here for a reason."

"How are their prisons?" Maria asked as nonchalantly as possible, toying with the thick black frames on her face.

"You are not going to be taken to prison." Solas promised firmly. "You have done nothing wrong."

That was not true and they all knew it. Her criminal record, as damning as it was, didn't even cover half of it. Solas sighed wearily and amended his statement at her skeptical look. "You have done nothing wrong lately."

"You help." Cole insisted. "They need you to help."

"Seeker!" Someone yelled breathlessly, streaking across the opulent plaza, shoving aside a small knot of well-dressed financial looking types, all wearing those bizarre masks. The man dropped his voice quickly. "Seeker, my lady Herald, there's been a complication."

Maria's shoulders tensed immediately and Cassansra straightened warily, hand drifting into position at her hip to pull the weapon concealed there. "What is it?"

"Lord Seeker Lucius returned to Val Royeaux with a contingent of templars." The man wiped his face nervously. "The people of Val Royeaux believe they're going to protect the city from… from the Inquisition."

Varric actually snorted in disbelief from beside her and they both shared an amused, skeptical glance. Cassandra's eyes burned indignantly. "Protect the city?" She repeated. "From us?"

Maria Cadash was going to die in this strange, brilliant city surrounded by crazy religious fanatics. She pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes hard, until she saw black spots in her vision. The black phone in her pocket buzzed and she nearly dissolved into hysterical laughter. At least she wouldn't have to deal with that anymore.

"Seeker, we can't send her into the lion's den." Varric argued. "I'm all for stupid decisions, but this is suicide."

"I am unsure there is any other option. We need the support of…"

"Of old women wringing their hands?" Solas muttered darkly, interrupting Cassandra. "They will sell themselves to the wolves before admitting they are wrong."

The other phone in her pocket chimed and she reached for it without thinking, pulling it out and gazing blearily at the notification.

Leliana: There are agents in place to help you escape if it is required.
Leliana: Trust me.

While she looked at her phone, both Blackwall and Harding joined the fray. She could hear the bickering all around her rising in a crescendo, a fever pitch. The bells continued to sound, the clamor nearly enough to drown out everything else.

Trust me. Maria had spent so long trusting so few people, she wasn't sure how to trust these strangers arguing around her, the ones imploring her to keep going. It felt more reckless than anything she'd ever done.

"It's safe." Cole reached out to gently touch her arm. "It's safe to believe in them the way they believe in you."

She wasn't sure, but there wasn't time for doubt or cowardice. Not now.

She whipped the glasses off her face before she could think about it for a minute longer, shoving them into the case in her bag next to her copy of the Champion's Tale and her own gun, before throwing the bag itself over her shoulder. "Right." She said loudly, cutting through the argument, drawing every set of eyes back to her. Harding squeaked in dismay, taking in the red hair framing Maria's face like a flag.

"What are you doing?" Blackwall asked gruffly, stepping aside as Maria took one step forward.

"What we came here to do." She answered with more resolve than she felt. "I've spent eight hours cooped up on that train. I'm not getting back on it."

"You're insane." Varric's voice curled with laughter even as he rubbed the stubble on his jaw anxiously. "I can't tell if it's the good kind of crazy or the bad kind, but you're definitely certifiable."

"You're the one following the Seeker who kidnapped you around willingly." She retorted. "Pots and kettles, Varric."

"I did not kidnap him." Cassandra muttered, but she looked pleased in spite of herself, cleaving to Maria's right as they walked forward. Behind her, Maria heard Harding messing with her camera equipment and Blackwall swearing softly under his breath. "The Maker is with us, Cadash."

"I wish I had your confidence." Maria curled her fingers into fists inside her coat pockets when the exited the plaza onto one of the grand, sweeping boulevards. In the distance, she could see an elegant sprie rising up, ribbons fluttering around it in the breeze. "Is that the old Chantry market?"

"Yes." Cassandra nodded as they began to walk down the sidewalk. Her gait was deceptively casual, but Maria saw the wariness in every step. "That is where we are going."

"Oldest market left in known Thedas." Solas observed. "I have heard it is now full of designer clothing shops."

"Maybe we should have brought Ruffles." Varric joked weakly.

"Oh, now that I couldn't do." Maria tried to grin bravely. "I'd rather face down a whole platoon of Templars than risk going shopping with Josephine."

"A wise choice." Cassandra sniffed with a wry little twist to her lips.

The crowd in Val Royeaux cleaved around them like they had the blight. On a platform high above the heads of the crowd, an old woman in a nun's habit held her arms out in greeting, as if she'd embrace all of them to her wrinkly old bosom.

"Good people of Val Royeaux! Hear my call!" The woman shouted, raising her arms higher. "We mourn the most Holy, our Divine Justinia. Her naive…"

Cassandra scoffed.

"And beautiful heart silenced, forever, by treachery!" The woman's eyes were wide, the whites of them blinding as if she was a spooked animal or a rabid squirrel. Maria didn't take her hands out of her pockets, even as their group stopped in front of the woman's stage. The cold winter wind lifted strands of red hair, blew them in front of her face. Above her, Maria heard the whirl of Harding's camera drone.

"Do you wonder when her murderer will face justice?" The woman cried out passionately, leveling a pointed finger in Maria's direction. Blackwall growled low behind her. "Well, wonder no more!"

"Nothing like the sound of rambling religious ranting for an afternoon pick me up. Nearly as good as coffee." Varric muttered low. Cassandra didn't even bother to shush him.

"She's frightened." Cole whispered. "Of you."

"Behold!" The woman yelled. "The so-called Herald of Andraste! She claims to rise from the ashes where our beloved leader fell."

Maria opened her mouth to shut the Herald of Andraste nonsense down, again, but before she could the woman continued her impassioned speech. "The Chantry knows you are a false prophet! The Maker would send no common, dwarven, criminal in our hour of need!"

Temper brought a flush to her skin, made her step recklessly forward. "Listen here lady, I'm not claiming to be anyone's prophet. I just want to close the vortex and go home before it swallows up the whole damn world."

The woman's eyes hardened, obviously taken aback that the common, dwarven criminal had anything to say. Cassandra stepped forward, glaring, taking her place once more beside her. "It's true! The Inquisition only wishes to end this… this madness before it is too late!"

The crowd muttered, seethed around them like a hive of wasps. Behind the old woman, the door to the grand cathedral with its ringing bells flew open and she lifted her chin in triumphant pride. "It is already too late for you!" The woman claimed as a man in dark body armor with sallow skin and a hooked nose appeared, followed by a dozen templars. Maria schooled her face carefully into apathy, even as she counted the men and women following the Lord Seeker and examined their assault rifles from the corner of her eye.

"The templars have returned to the loving arms of the chantry! They will face this Inquisition! The people will be safe once…"

The Lord Seeker walked past her without a second glance. The woman paused in mid-sentence, obviously confused, her mouth gaping like a fish pulled straight from the harbor. Her eyes were so focused on the Lord Seeker's back, she didn't see one of the other gray camo-clad templars rear back with his fist.

Maria felt the sucker punch sympathetically in her own jaw like a dull throb. The woman fell like a bag of bricks.

"Holy shit…" Varric breathed behind her. The Lord Seeker was still crossing the platform, completely unperturbed, his templars with him, and Maria…

Maria acted without thinking. She moved quickly to the edge of the platform, hosited herself up while her companions still stared, agape, at the scene. It took her only a second to make her way to the crazy old bat's side, a half a second to determine she was still conscious, moaning feebly and her eyes fluttering open.

She'd have a hell of a shiner tomorrow, probably the first one the Chantry mother every sported.

In another half second, she whirled on the retreating figure moving to the stairs on the other side of the platform. "HEY!"

Her voice was the only sound piercing the shocked silence, her heartbeat pounding in her own head. "Hey you asswipe!" She called out, this finally making the Lord Seeker stop and turn his attention to her. He had to be easily nearly double her height, his mouth pulled into a snarl as he stared down at her. He motioned the rest of the templars to continue on and they did.

"Was this supposed to be impressive?" Maria asked, gesturing to the old woman laid out behind her, the rest of the Chantry sisters fluttering helplessly to their knees beside her. "Because from over here, it looks like you're a fucking asshole!"

"She is beneath us." The man stated, eyes flashing angrily. "As are you."

"Lord Seeker!" Cassandra finally seemed to have regained her equilibrium. The man turned his disdainful attention to her.

"You have no right to address me. Creating a heretical movement. Raising up a dwarven whore as Andraste's prophet. You should be ashamed." The man intoned gravely, letting his disgusted expression trail over the crowd. "You should all be ashamed. The templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge these vile witches. Yet, you would prevent us from doing our holy duty."

"Does your holy duty include threatening innocent people and punching old women?" She could feel her pulse thrumming in her temples, the words spilling out in anger. "Because if it does, I'm not going to stand for it."

"Really?" He sneered. "And who are you to do anything about it?"

"My name is Maria Cadash!" Not just a nameless common criminal, a woman to be dismissed with a slur and a wink. She was the only one standing on the platform beyond the Lord Seeker and she felt at once both small and mighty. "And I'm going to close the vortex and help these people without your help while you keep punching little old ladies!"

The silence that greeted her words was stunned, heavy, and there was a brief flicker of something like shock on the Lord Seeker's face before he reassembled his sneer and laughed hollowly, turning and descending the platform. The crowd parted around him much the same way it had for her, with a sense of foreboding fear, but the people were staring at her now, jaws open or pressed tightly closed, folded hands to their lips or hiding their eyes.

She thought she was shaking, but she couldn't be sure. The woman behind her on the ground groaned and Maria turned, scowling down. "Is she alright?" She asked the other sisters.

Before she heard the answer, she heard Varric from down below turning to Harding. "Please tell me you got that on camera."