Maria wasn't certain how long it took Cole to find her and she had precious little idea of where exactly she was. Her instinct had been to flee, as far away from Varric's uncharacteristically hard eyes as she could get. In that way, she supposed, she was more a wild animal than a woman. Which is exactly how he had looked at her.
Varric believed all of it, every lie and half truth, each negative stereotype splashed in the papers or on the news. She hadn't thought he would. She thought…
Damnit. It didn't matter what she thought. It didn't matter at all.
Cole found her on a rusted bench in an unfamiliar park full of strange, grotesque sculptures. In the daylight, they probably formed animals and heroes made of hedges and bronze. In the darkest part of the night, with only dim street lights to illuminate them, they looked like the demons that fell from the vortex and crawled their way out of the cracks she sealed.
But at least she was home, right where she belonged with all the other monsters, part of the night, part of the seething mass of the under city, the homeless people she could hear shuffling through the park. She was in the silence and shadows and she was an idiot to think she could ever…
"Stars form when the nebula collapses." Cole blurted out. Maria pulled her eyes from her tightly clasped hands and looked over at him. He'd been silent since he appeared, sitting beside her like a stone statue himself.
"You don't like science. You like words and art, people and music." Cole clasped his own fingers tightly together, a mirror of her posture. "But the nebula collapses anyway, no matter what. Matter spins, the dust glows."
She didn't want to admit she'd been crying, but she could hear it in her throat anyway, a scratchy sound with little harmony or persuasive powers. "Is there a point here, Cole?"
"You are collapsing. You are crumbling." Cole frowned. "You are falling under your own weight. This isn't how you die. This is how you're born, but it hurts."
Maria looked away, quickly. She felt Cole's thin fingers, too cold and brittle, over top of hers. "He didn't want to hurt you."
"Don't." The word was torn, raw, from her throat. "Don't."
"He wants to believe in you, but she makes it hard. Tangles him up, ties him in knots, writes in algorithms, equations, dollar signs."
"I don't care." She bit out.
"Yes you do." Cole whispered. "You want him to like you."
"I don't." She lied, even though she knew Cole wouldn't believe it. She needed to hear herself say it. "I don't. I've been an idiot. People like me…"
People like her didn't get to wipe the slate clean. People like her didn't get to bask in the glow of people like Cassandra, Solas, Blackwall, Varric… they were good people. She was…
She was a criminal. She was the whore of the biggest monster she knew. She'd failed her father, her grandmother, Bea, Fynn… She'd fail the Inquisition, too.
"You were so young." Cole murmured. "It wasn't fair. You were so young and it was all so heavy."
"Cole." She half-moaned the name into her palms, covering her whole face with her hands.
Cole was unusually, blissfully, quiet. It lasted so long she almost thought he left her alone with her heaviness and despair, her grief and fear, but when she peeked through her fingers she saw him with his face pointed into the shadows. "She wants to give you a message." Cole whispered softly, jerking his chin. "But she's not sure its you."
Maria looked up and pierced the darkness with her gaze. The shape across the path took form, a woman with wild hair and a coat at least five sizes too big with bags over her shoulders. Maria didn't feel the prickle of threat in the air, so she hazarded a greeting. "Hello?"
"You the Herald?" The woman asked brusquely. "Didn't take you for the type to bawlin' on a park bench at the asscrack of night, but…"
Maria's hackles went up immediately and she tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Can I help you?"
The woman stepped forward, face dirty, but eyes surprisingly clear. She nodded, once, as if confirming. "There it is. Got a note for you. From a friend."
"Who?"
"A friend." The woman held out a slip of paper that looked crimson in the street light. "You takin' it or what your Heraldness?"
Cole didn't say anything, so Maria reached out and grabbed the paper. As soon as it was in her hands, the other woman seemed to dissolve back into the blackness around them while Maria flipped the paper open and held it up in the feeble light.
People say you're special. I want to help and I can bring everyone. There's a baddie in Val Royeaux. I hear he wants to hurt you. Have a search for the red marks and maybe you'll hurt him first.
Bring guns.
Friends of Red Jenny
"Who is Red Jenny?" Cole asked, bewildered. Maria swore and stood, peering around them.
"Not people I want to get on the bad side of. I've got enough problems." Maria sighed and rubbed at her eyes again. "C'mon."
"You don't have guns with you?" Cole questioned.
"It's just a scavenger hunt." Maria scowled, shoving the paper with the crude map into her pocket. "How dangerous can it be?"
It didn't occur to her until later, much later, that she probably had the same thought climbing up to the Temple of Sacred Ashes before it blew sky high.
The map led them to a shady, overgrown tunnel in the park. There, a bright red spray painted arrow pointed them towards Val Royeaux's harbor. At the harbor, thankfully before the smell got to be unbearable, another arrow directed them into the Eastern part of the city. This part of the city seemed full of clubs, bars, restaurants, and ritzy as hell. Even in her undoubtedly expensive coat, Maria felt underdressed. Thankfully, there were no signs of patrons on the street in the dim dawn light.
It was all a good distraction though. Except, honestly, if she'd have known there'd be so much damn walking she'd have gone back to the hotel and bugged Cassandra for a ride. But if she went back to the hotel, she was terrified she'd find Varric frozen right where she left him, furious and judgmental and…
How did he know about the suicide? That it was connected to her acquittal? It was enough to make her break into a cold sweat, to wonder how far his digging had gone, and how close she was to her most important secrets being exposed.
She pulled out her phone as they walked, tapping the messages out in the silence.
Maria: Hey, you awake?
Leliana: Of course I am. Are you alright? It is early.
Leliana: Or perhaps late, no?
She was right, it was early. She hoped Cassandra hadn't been serious about having breakfast together, because she was going to miss that appointment. The last thing Maria needed was another lecture from the Seeker about taking off on her own.
Maria: I'm fine. Quick question. You said my records were still sealed in Hercinia, but you have them. Is there anyway anyone else could?
Leliana: Do you suspect someone?
She hated to type it, but she didn't have any choice. She took a deep breath and typed her answer.
Maria: Varric.
Leliana: I will investigate. Give me fifteen minutes.
"It wasn't him." Cole mumbled with a sulking glare. "He didn't want it."
Maria ignored him, catching sight instead of a bright red X spray painted on the dark window of a nightclub. Inside, Maria could see the high top tables, the bars with the chairs stacked neatly on top, but no movement.
"You cleaned the bar in Hercinia the same way." Cole murmured. "Except you left one stool down because he always came to walk you home."
"Yeah." Maria felt her heart clench and she had to ignore the icy stab of pain in her gut. "He was like that, wasn't he?"
"Proud. Protective." Maria watched Cole blink owlishly in the window. "He's worried. It's been so long."
"Fynn's dead. He doesn't worry about me anymore." The words felt like poison on her tongue and she reached for the door.
"Not Fynn." Cole muttered.
Before Maria could ask for additional information from Cole, the door creaked inward with a barely perceptible squeak. The rectangle of light fell into the bar and Maria stepped forward into the hushed room, holding her own breath.
"Ah. The Herald."
She should have known it was a damn trap. She hadn't been able to see from the plate glass window, but on the opposite end of the club a man reclined against a DJ's stand, an elaborate mask covering his face, an expensive tailored suit clinging to his form. Between her and him there was an expansive dance floor and he took one step towards her, voice dripping arrogance. "How much of your precious spymaster's time was devoted to finding me?"
Beside her, Cole froze. Maria allowed herself a little mocking grin of her own. "I'm gonna be real honest. I don't know who you are."
"Lies!" The man claimed, igniting his hand on fire as he stood before them. "It is no matter, you will rue the day you learned my name, Herald! The world will know not to cross…"
He never saw the red dot on his forehead. Maria didn't even flinch when she heard the muffled shot, one that neatly extinguished the fire in his palm and dropped him like a bag of bricks.
Maria still didn't know his name.
"Ewww…" A woman, narrow with pointed features and pointed ears, melted from the shadows. "Rich tits always bleed like stuck pigs, bad as the shite from their mouths. Blah, blah, blah! Obey me! Shoot me in the face!"
The woman spun on her heel like a top careening wildly out of control, a grin made of sharp, tiny teeth stretching her lips wide. She was wearing eyeliner that was at least four days old, her blonde hair stuck up in all directions, and she wore clothing that looked like she'd scrounded it from a dumpster. The garish plaid leggings contrasted terribly with the camo combat boots and the black leather, studded jacket. The shirt she tossed on had a yellow smiley face beaming out at her and suspicious looking scorch marks. Tiny studs in her nose and dangling bits of metal in her ears caught the flickering light.
"Well, you're… definitely a dwarf. Look at the tits on you, yeah?" She grinned even more brightly. "So… smooshy."
The woman descended into cackles and a snort. Maria shot a worried look at Cole who smiled, shy and sweet, at the elf from under his blonde bangs.
"Right." Maria indicated the dead body on the ground. "Our spymaster may have wanted to talk to him."
As if summoned, Maria's phone rang. She pulled it from her pocket as the woman blew a loud raspberry. She hit the call accept button. "Leliana, I may have to call you back."
"Why? Just some dick thought he was bigger than he was." The elf paused. "Typical man, really."
Maria choked on a surprised laugh. Leliana's silence on the other side sounded tense. "Herald, I…"
"Don't you have more people? Big burly types?" The elf shot a bewildered look at Cole. "I mean he's… fine. I guess. Did you bring guns?"
"Did I just hear someone ask if you had a gun?" Leliana questioned.
"Hold on, I…" Maria moved the phone away from her ear. "I didn't think I needed a weapon for a hike across most of Val Royeaux."
"Where are you?" Leliana questioned, loudly. "Are you with Cassandra?"
"Ugh, fine. Use my spare." Without preamble, the elf tossed a weapon into the air. Maria's heart nearly stopped and she reached out, panicked, to catch it as gently as possible with a torrent of cursing.
Her dad would have shit himself to see someone tossing a loaded weapon around.
"I'm not with Cassandra." Maria put the phone back to her ear. "Listen I'll…"
"This is cover!" Sera gestured to the bar grandly. "Get around it, quick!"
Andraste, how did she get herself into these situations. "Why do I need to get behind cover?"
Cole was already moving, taking it on faith, withdrawing his switchblade from his tattered jacket.
"Cover?" Leliana repeated suspiciously
"Cover!" The elf shouted. Maria heard something shattering in the back of the club and the sound of shouting and cursing. Without another thought, Maria knocked one bar stool off and vaulted the bartop, landing beside Cole. She pressed the phone to her ear again.
"Leliana, I'm a bit busy…"
"It certainly does sound like you're occupied."
"Listen!" The elf jabbed her elbow pointedly into Maria's arm, holding a long sniper type rifle loosely in the other. She had a phone in her hand and was scrolling through an app filled with photos of album covers. "I made a playlist!"
"A playlist?" Maria repeated.
"Yeah! And I took their pants!" The elf claimed brightly, nearly leaping over Maria to hit the club lights. Above them, a disco ball burst into a riot of color and something beeped. The woman stood and craned to look at the DJ Booth, then typed something in on the app.
A bright, peppy pop beat burst to life from some of the highest quality speakers Maria had ever heard. The elf pumped her first into the air triumphantly, still clutching her glowing phone. Cole reached over and quickly dragged her down, just in time to miss the first volley of gunfire.
Well, you're a real tough cookie with a long history
Of breaking little hearts like the one in me
That's okay, let's see how you do it.
Put up your dukes, let's get down to it.
Hit me with your best shot.
Why don't you hit me with your best shot?
Hit me with your best shot.
Fire away.
"Are those gunshots?" Leliana asked.
"And Pat Benatar." Maria snapped out. "Apparently."
"Oh Cassandra is going to murder you."
Maria didn't even bother answering, tossing the phone into her pocket without bothering to hang up. She glared at the elf. "Why didn't you take their weapons?"
"Because!" The elf cackled. "No pants!"
xx
He finally caved and called Hawke right before dawn, long after he'd given up trying to track Maria through the warrens of an unfamiliar city and sitting in the miserably uncomfortable furniture in the hotel lobby waiting for her to reappear, growing steadily more concerned that she'd been swallowed up by the seedier side of Val Royeaux, or worse.
He couldn't get the Lord Seeker's burning hatred out of his mind, convinced himself the man would be thrilled to put the small woman in front of firing squad on live TV.
"Well." Hawke began awkwardly after he finished his terrible, horrible confession. "You fucked up, that's for sure."
"You know, that talent for stating the obvious, I'm pretty sure that's what got you named Champion." Varric snarked back, rubbing his forehead briskly.
"I thought that was my stunning good looks?" Hawke deflected wryly. "Besides, we're talking about your shortcomings today."
"I'm a fucking idiot." Varric moaned.
"This certainly wasn't your finest moment." Hawke agreed tenaciously. "But your chest hair is potent, so I'm not sure you're out of the running yet."
"I don't want to sleep with her." Varric started immediately. Hawke scoffed in abject disbelief.
"Varric, the tension is so obvious Merrill is tweeting about it for the Maker's sake."
Temporarily, Varric was disarmed and distracted. "Please tell me Daisy's not back on social media."
"Don't worry, her username is blood witches are bad, no spaces."
"Oh for Andraste's…"
"My new one is 'fuck the champion', I tried to get Fenris to make his 'currently fucking the champion', but alas…"
He hoped Hawke was kidding, but he wasn't quite sure she was. "You're all going to get caught and thrown in jail."
"Pft." He could hear Hawke waving his concern away. "This isn't about our fugitive status, this is about you and your obvious puppy eyes on the Herald. It's not wonder Bianca is jealous."
"I'm going to kill her."
"No you're not." Hawke sighed, resigned. "It's Bianca doing what Bianca always does and you've yet to actually do anything worse than lecture her. Sternly."
This time was different. This time it wasn't him that got hurt. Maria Cadash had enough shit on her plate without Bianca's meddling. She didn't need his baggage on top of hers and she didn't need him making her life harder than it already was.
Fuck. Fuck. He couldn't believe it. It was hard to picture their Maria Cadash as anyone's victim. She was fierce, strong, stubborn, brilliant, passionate… But she'd been a girl once. The oldest daughter of a cop who died when she was tragically young. Varric wasn't an idiot. He knew what happened to beautiful girls left at the mercy of a cruel world too young. They did what they had to survive or they died. That was just how life worked.
"I could swing out to Ostwick." Hawke offered gamely. "Fenris is looking like he's molting from boredom and you know how vigilante justice is always just the thing to perk him up."
He wanted to say yes. He wanted to send Hawke to Ostwick and have her light the bastard up so that Maria would never have to worry about it again. And he knew that he couldn't make that call for her, couldn't force his own preference down her throat. If he did… "No. No, not unless she asks for my help."
Down the hall, he heard someone knocking on a door. He ignored it.
"Do you think Dwyka killed her boyfriend and tried to frame her for it?" Hawke asked grimly. "That's… fucked up."
He didn't know. He saw the well of despair inside Maria's soul, and he didn't think she could continue to live in any capacity with a man that had murdered Fynn Dunhark. He thought if that had been her only choice, she'd have chosen the easy way out instead. But how well did he know her? How well did any of them know her?
How many people knew that she had this heavy secret? How many nights had she suffered at the hands of…
He couldn't think about it. If he thought about Dwyka touching her, hurting her, he was going to be ill. Then he was going to go to Ostwick himself and see if that bastard enjoyed a taste of his own medicine.
"How do I make this right?" Varric asked. The pounding down the hall started again, louder. Hawke sighed. He could picture her nose wrinkling as she thought.
"You should tell her the truth. That your ex-girlfriend, while brilliant and usually well-meaning, has a thing with the thought of you moving on so she decided to drip vitriol in your ear until you lost your damn mind instead of just calling your bored best friend to talk shit out."
"That would mean telling her where you're at." Varric pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Please. You're more likely to put my coordinates on a billboard in Val Royeaux than tell anyone about the shitshow that is your relationship with Bianca." Hawke dismissed. "Then you should tell the Herald you're utterly enamoured with her, as evidenced by every newsclip I see of you two looking unbearably adorable together, and that you're a decent guy despite your most recent fuck up. After which, you should tell her that you're her man and that you'll do whatever it takes to see that she's happy and safe. Then you wait for her trust you enough to realize you two should shack up."
"Sensible advice from the woman who danced around Broody for ten years." Varric snapped irritably.
"Do as I say, Varric. Not as I do." Hawke replied serenely. The knocking down the hall took on a thunderous tone, as if someone was attempting to wake the dead. Then Varric heard an unwelcome voice.
"Cadash! Are you there?"
"Shit." Varric looked at his phone, the clock reading just after the crack of dawn. Maria hadn't come back, he hadn't heard the elevator ding since he returned to his room just down the hall from hers. Their Seeker friend was about to discover their Herald missing, and Varric was at fault. "Shit, Hawke. Do you remember where my will is stashed on the server?"
"I moved it." Hawke replied flippantly. "It was giving me bad vibes. I threw it in Isabela's 'fun' folder."
His solicitor would have to dig through terabytes of porn to find his last will and testament. Somehow, it seemed suitable. "The Seeker is looking for Maria."
"Who would have thought they'd be so bad at finding things?" Hawke mused cheerfully.
"I've gotta go."
"Varric." Hawke suddenly sounded serious, somber even. "I meant it. You should tell her. Life's short and she's… I've got a good feeling about her Varric. When I see her on the TV I think… I think the world may stand a chance after all."
And just like that, Varric heard the line go dead. He pushed himself off his unslept in bed and staggered to the door, wrenching it open to stare down the Seeker. Cassandra was dressed casually, sweatpants and a loose shirt, running shoes on. "Maker's ass, Seeker. Are you trying to wake the dead?"
"The Herald… I thought she and I agreed to have breakfast." Cassandra scowled at the door. "But she is not answering and I am…"
Varric swallowed, hard. "She's not there."
Cassandra's angry gaze ripped itself from the door to burn a hole through him instead. "And where…"
Almost as soon as she'd begun the sentence, he saw the direction Cassandra's mind veered off in. He could tell by the acute red blush rising to her face and her surprised step backwards. "She is… in your…"
"No!" Varric claimed quickly. "No, she's not… she left last night. She hasn't come back yet."
"What? Why?" Cassandra frowned, reaching for her phone. "It is not safe, I am…"
The phone in Cassandra's hand buzzed and for a brief second, both her and Varric stared at it like it would bite them both if they so much as moved. Cassandra snapped into action with a brisk shake of her head, answering the phone and placing it on speaker phone. "Leliana, I am going to need your…"
"Are you perhaps missing a Herald?" Leliana asked with a hard edge. Varric winced and Cassandra glared at him.
"So I've been informed." She said dryly.
"I confess, I am not entirely certain what she has stepped in this time." Leliana sounded a bit ruffled, which didn't soothe Varric's nerves. "But she is in the midst of being shot at."
It was like being doused with icy water, but Cassandra went into immediate crisis mode. "Do you have any idea of her location?"
"She didn't hang up." Leliana offered. "I'm able to use the signal to triangulate her position. I can narrow it down to about a block, you'll have to follow the sound of gunfire and eighties music."
Varric didn't even ask questions, he ducked back into his room and grabbed his shotgun from its hiding place under his bed. Cassandra had already wrenched open the door to the stairs careening down them. Varric ran after her.
If something happened to Maria now, it was his fault, and he'd never forgive himself.
The Seeker commandeered a hotel van, fast food wrappers toppled from the door when he opened it and the bleary eyed elf who watched them take it looked like he wasn't quite certain whether or not he'd just been robbed. Varric made a mental note to remember to, at the very least, return to the hotel and make sure the poor kid didn't get fired.
"If she were not the only one who could close the vortex…" Cassandra growled darkly,, taking a turn so sharply his life flashed before his eyes. "If I did not believe her sent from the Maker…"
"Seeker, calm down before you take out a panhandler."
"I am trying!" Cassandra exploded. "I am attempting to improve our working relationship, but she is distrustful, she is stubborn, she is…"
"She may have a good reason." Varric reminded the Seeker, wincing when the van went out on the curb to bypass a garbage truck.
"She trusts you! She told you she was leaving!"
"She didn't… shit, Seeker, it wasn't…" Varric didn't want to confess the terrible confrontation in the lobby, particularly not to Cassandra, and definitely not when she was looking so murderous.
They turned on to a boulevard empty of all traffic and Cassandra slammed on the breaks, looking at the map on her phone and freezing, listening. This was it, this was the block where…
The sound of gunfire was unmistakable. Cassandra hit the gas again before pulling to slamming stop in front of a night club, one that was probably a big draw for the rich and entitled jackasses of Val Royeaux.
Or at least it would be, if it wasn't missing a front window and involved in a shootout. He also was fairly certain the blaring eighties power pop song wasn't the typical soundtrack for the evening.
Cassandra flew out of the van, with Varric rolling out as quickly as he could after her, but before either of them could move into place, they had to dodge a man falling out the shattered window, clutching his chest.
And just like that, the only sound was the last refrains of the song, the only person he could see in the club was Maria Cadash, hair mused, lip split and swollen, covered in blood and mercifully alive, but frozen solid at the sight of both him and Cassandra. A disco ball above her head rotated and cast her in shimmering lights.
Hit me with your best shot
Why don't you hit me with your best shot?
Hit me with your best shot
Fire away…
He wanted to say something, anything, but before he could a tiny elf lunged from the corner, cackling madly and scooping Maria up into a hug that cracked bones. "That was great, yeah! We should do more of that! Lots more!"
"Yeah." Maria raised fingers to the mess of her lip, eyes torn from his to stare at her own bloody hands, shoulders hunched inward. "Yeah, sure."
"Is it clear?" Cassandra barked. Maria nodded her head and the Seeker climbed through the window. Varric lowered his shotgun and followed, eyes fixed firmly on Maria's bloody lip. He wanted to reach out and touch her, trace his fingers down her jaw and ensure she didn't break something, but even as he drew closer she pulled back, wary as a spooked cat, eyes pointed firmly at Cassandra instead. Varric got the message loud and clear, looping around her form back towards Cole behind the bar. The kid was cleaning off his blade on his pants, mumbling under his breath.
"Why?" Cassandra asked, gesturing to the ruined club with a tone of weary, resigned exasperation.
Maria's bitter laugh burned his ears as he slipped behind the bar, silently looking for ice for that split lip. He couldn't bear to look at her while her hollow voice echoed. "You wouldn't believe how much I ask myself that, Seeker."
