Varric Tethras really didn't care for the acquisitive look playing over the Magister's rat-like features when he swept his gaze over Maria. He cared even less for the satisfied smirk he wore, the one that belonged to a man who had everyone exactly where he wanted them. It was like every boardroom full of Dwarven Financiers he'd ever walked into. He half expected to turn and see Bianca's stern glare telling him in not-so-many words to behave himself.

But when he turned, he was greeted with Maria's pale face and flinty gray eyes staring down the group of witches taking seats at the opposite side of the table. A nervous Elven apprentice followed them in with wide eyes and two pitchers of water. She darted an anxious look at Fiona who pressed her lips tightly together and nodded. The girl went around the table, pouring water into the empty glasses. Varric could see her fingers shaking. The girl couldn't be older than fourteen.

"Now, you must be the…"

Maria cooly held up one finger, silencing the magister and looking up into the drawn face of the elven girl with a soft smile as the girl nearly fumbled one of the glasses. "Hey… hey, let me get that."

Maria's hands confidently snagged one of the pitchers from the girl's thin fingers. The Magister's eyes narrowed as Maria neatly poured her own water, eyes never leaving the girl's face. She'd have been a hell of a bartender with that ability to multitask. "What's your name?" She asked the girl.

"Lilly." The girl whispered, eyes flitting from Maria to the door, to the Magister, to Fiona. "Lilly, ma'am."

"I like it." Maria finished the first pitcher and handed it back, neatly grabbing the second while Lilly stood, shell shocked and mouth agape at the Herald. "Go find something more fun than this, Lilly. I can pour water."

"But…" Lilly stuttered, alarmed, but Fiona already had one hand on the girl's shoulder, steering her from the room with an air of relief. A woman on the other side of the table with pinched features sneered into the silence before tipping her empty glass over. It clomped on the table with a thud that made the poor elven girl jump under Fiona's arm. With a wave of her hand, the glass began to roll across the table, stopping just shy of Maria's hand. "If you're serving, by all means…" The woman huffed.

A few of the others snickered. Maria's features, at first so soft and indulgent for the kid, hardened into an impenetrable mask. She smiled wickedly and pushed the glass slowly back across the table, letting it roll to a slow stop. She didn't take the same care with the water pitcher. She twisted her right wrist sharply, the wrist Solas told her to take it easy on. Varric caught the reproachful look flash across the elf's face. Fiona shut the door on the young girl and Maria sent the water pitcher spinning elegantly across the polished wood table. The witch on the other side flinched, but the pitcher stopped just short of splattering all over her, just a bit of liquid sploshing out over the brim.

"If your wrist is broken…" Maria began mildly, settling back into her chair confidently. "I know a guy who could help you out."

Be still his beating heart. Cassandra's lips twitched, barely smothering the amusement. Solas had to turn his head away to hide his laughing eyes. Varric couldn't see his own expression, but he knew the thrum of desire in his own gut, the one stirred to life just moments earlier by her warm breath on his bare skin and her lips hovering over the pulse throbbing in his neck. If she so much as offered, he'd be on his knees in a heartbeat with her shapely legs over his shoulders and his mouth devouring her.

The woman she slid the pitcher across to set her face into a steely glare, but Varric was more concerned with the older man in the center of the group, his fingers steepled as he weighed Maria a bit more carefully. "Miss Cadash, please do not feel as if we are on opposing sides." The man began slickly, a satisfied smile playing across his lips. "We are simply coming to the aid of our enslaved brethren…"

If Fenris were here, he'd smash the gleaming wooden table to bits. Enslaved brethren his ass. Tevinter technically outlawed the enslavement of elves and the poor ages ago. Technically, everyone was free to come and go as they pleased.

In reality, the Elves of Tevinter were locked into poverty, shoved into the poorest housing, slums full of chronic health problems, environmental poisons, and exploitation. Young, good looking elves were frequently abducted and never seen again, or worse, found in basement brothels by families who thought them dead. They weren't eligible for Tevinter citizenship due to their race and blocked from further education, from choice careers, from public benefits…

Leaving them little choice but to scrounge for scraps in the gutter.

And, yes, Anders was technically right when he said the elves of Thedas, in general, had a shit deal and it wasn't because witches ruled the north. Sure, a substantial amount of them lived in poverty everywhere and it wasn't due to magic but greed and intolerance.

But Varric knew Fenris's tattoos were his by choice only technically. The experiments that created them caused untold agony and who knew how much mental baggage. Varric also knew that Fenris wandered freely by a Tevinter Magister's side for years, the culmination of the man's ambition to push the boundaries of magic and science.

Varric knew blood magic was involved and he knew nobody in Tevinter had blinked an eye, even though the evidence was right in front of them. Yeah, he may have worried himself into ulcers over Daisy's penchant for rambling midnight strolls in Kirkwall, but he never worried she'd waltz right into blood witches eager to turn her into a walking monstrosity.

Although if she had, at least she'd have been prepared for it.

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" Maria asked.

"The Tevinter Imperium can always use the fresh blood…" Fiona winced at the word. Varric shot her a disgruntled look that he hoped clearly showed his thoughts on who, exactly, was responsible for this shit. "After a period of military service…"

"You would send children?" Solas questioned harshly. "The old? What of them?"

The Magister's eyes were too bright, almost insane. He didn't tear them from Maria's face. "Everyone has to pay the price for their freedom, Miss Cadash."

Maria's eyes blazed with scorching heat while the Magister leaned forward smoothly. "And what price are you willing to pay to solve your problem?"

While the man spoke, a slight young man stood and moved to the windows. Varric watched him adjust the first set of blinds, then the next, moving down closer and closer to their end of the table. He paused near the last one, closest to Maria and Solas, appeared to struggle with the strings. He staggered back and rubbed the back of his palm against his forehead as if he'd broken out into a sweat. He turned back to the table, eyes landing on Maria's face. "Miss Cadash, may I have a bit of water?"

It was so oddly, charmingly, polite that Varric didn't know what to do with it. The pale young man looked down at Maria earnestly and Maria looked back, blinking once before taking her glass of water and handing it to him warily.

"Varric?" Bianca hummed in his ear. "There are thirty two mobile devices connected to the wireless network. There are also twenty-seven unique room keys issued to this hotel at the moment. All rooms are on the uppermost…"

Varric was half-listening to Bianca, half paying attention to the young man sipping gingerly from the glass Maria provided. The man placed the glass back down on the edge of the table and went as if to turn…

But the momentum proved to be too much and he staggered, swaying and grasping the table edge quickly, the glass knocked to the ground and shattering beneath them. Maria jumped up in a moment and the man turned, slumped into her small figure.

Suddenly, Varric's attention was wholly occupied by the sight of Maria's form nearly eclipsed by the thin human witch. His breath caught in his throat and he half expected to see the silver, wicked gleam of a blade at her side before it was shoved unceremoniously between her ribs.

Instead, his eagle eyes watched one hand glide down Maria's right side and slip a folded piece of paper into her coat pocket, hidden from the eyes of the Magister across the room.

"Felix!" The Magister sputtered, standing up in alarm.

"I'm so sorry!" The kid pulled back, wide eyes guilelessly innocent. "I just felt so unwell. Did I… did I spill on your coat?"

"It's alright." Maria kept her right hand on the man's shoulder, peered up into his face with a look of touching concern. "Do you need to sit down?"

"Herald, this meeting will have to wait." The Magister snapped, grabbing the boy away from Maria's grasp. "Felix, did you forget your medicine?"

"I can't remember…" The man protested.

"Fiona." The Magister snapped, slipping his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Attend to us in our suite."

And, just like that, Varric watched the Tevinter witches dissipate like a flock of birds. Solas and Cassandra stared, shell shocked, after them. As soon as the door shut, though, Maria's hand dove to her pocket.

Varric lashed out to grab her small wrist. She froze immediately, her pulse sputtering under his fingers. He gently tugged her around to face him. Her gray eyes were skittish, wary, under his fingertips her heartbeat rocketed. But the rest of her face was carefully, neutrally blank. He didn't understand why, not until…

Until Solas made a dismayed noise and awareness of what he was doing crashed over Varric like a pile of bricks. He dropped the recently healed wrist like it burned him and brought his other hand up to Maria's mouth, placing one finger over her lips, ignoring that they were opening in question. "Sorry. One second, Princess."

She closed her mouth again and nodded, relaxing her stiff posture. Once he was certain she wasn't going to move to rip that piece of paper out of her pocket, he spoke aloud quietly. "Bianca, what's the surveillance look like in this room?"

"Security cameras at the entrance aimed toward the door. This corner is unobserved. Sound is not being recorded." Bianca chirped. Varric slid his gaze to Solas and raised an eyebrow.

"I do not sense anything emitting a mystical signature beyond the devices the two of you are carrying." Solas's voice was laced with disapproval. "I would assume two phones and your glasses, Mister Tethras."

That sounded about right. Varric dropped his finger apologetically from Maria's mouth with a shrug. "Sorry again, beautiful. Better safe than sorry."

He wanted to say more. He wanted to use his words to spin the world into a place where nobody ever dared to hurt Maria Cadash, where she was untouchable. Create a place for her to escape, to thrive.

Create a place where he could grab her wrist and her first reaction wasn't to wait for a blow.

But he didn't know how. Instead, he watched her pull the paper from her pocket and open it eagerly. Cassandra and Solas both crowded her shoulders to read it, but Varric could savor the anticipation a little while longer to give her room to breathe.

"It says…" Maria looked up from the note, eyes sparkling with humor. "That there's a group of people waiting to murder me in the Chantry."

"Nice of them to warn us of where to steer clear." Varric sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It actually says I should go." Maria sounded amused, her eyes sparkling with laughter. She turned and thrust the note into his hand and Varric turned it around so he too could read it.

To the dwarven criminal everyone insists upon calling the Herald of Andraste -

I'm sure you won't be surprised when I tell you that you could not be in more danger if you tried. Thankfully you do, very much, look like the type of woman who enjoys a bit of danger with her convoluted politics.

The plan was to lure you to the chantry and neatly put a bullet in your head. Waste of a perfectly good skull, honestly.

I would advise attending your assassination if you can spare the time. Never know who you may meet.

xx

Who was she to turn down such a politely worded invitation? Yes, Cassandra had a point when she complained about blazing in recklessly. Sure, Varric's air of weary martyrdom wasn't completely overdramatic (but she wasn't going to admit it.)

But it was the light dancing in Bull's eye that convinced her quicker than anything else. His crooked half-smile when he looked down and said, "You sure about this boss? Could be dangerous."

It could be, but so was she. She shifted from foot to foot and grinned back at him. "Scared, old man?"

"Fighting words there, Cadash." Bull chuckled.

"You do realize…" Varric broke in with a sigh. "You're actually not as big as he is, right? Just… putting it out there."

"What are you trying to say there, Varric?" Bull asked cheerfully. "Advising me to lay off the Orlesian sweets?"

"That's between you and your belt buckle there, Tiny." Varric smirked, leaning casually against the rough brick of the old chantry.

"Varric doesn't want you to punch a demon." Cole wrung his woolen cap between his fingers, head tipped thoughtfully to the side. "It's probably a bad idea. Demons are big with sharp teeth."

Maria, honestly, still wasn't entirely sure which parts of a demon were the teeth. Instead, she shot Varric an exasperated look. "I could punch a demon if I wanted to."

"Princess, I wouldn't bet against whether or not you could." Varric crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"But you shouldn't." Cole confirmed. "That is why The Iron Bull is here. He can punch demons in the face."

"Damn right I will." Bull muttered with complete satisfaction.

"So what am I supposed to do, Cole?" Maria teasingly grabbed the cap out of his hands and stood on tiptoes to yank it over his unruly blonde hair. "Sit still and look pretty?"

"But you're beautiful moving. Talking. Smiling." Cole paused, his fingers lightly brushing Maria's left wrist over the little tattoo there, tracing the line of the arrow. "Laughing. Breathless on the back of a motorcycle. Moving, constantly moving, life and light and..."

She couldn't help it. She brushed her lips affectionately over Cole's cheek. "You say the sweetest things."

Cole smiled, sweet and sappy, but he shook his head. "No. Not me. They're not my words."

"Cassandra's back." Varric interrupted. "Shall we get this party started?"

"Solas is around the back." Cassandra whispered, ducking into the narrow alley where they hid. She wrinkled her nose at the grimy metal trash cans before swinging her eyes down to Maria. "There are several Tevinter agents inside. They do not appear to be expecting you, yet."

"Do they look friendly?" Maria asked. Cassandra shrugged, scowled.

"This could be a ruse to discredit you. Please allow them to shoot first." She advised stiffly. "Do attempt to not get yourself killed."

"Seeker..." Maria shrugged out of the itchy wool coat and let it drop to the cracked concrete beneath their feet. She reached down and tugged the ridiculously delicate silk blouse from her waistband, untucking it easily. "I didn't know you cared."

She wished she had a real hair tie to pull her hair back with. Josephine had stuck all sorts of pins in to hold the bun in place, but obviously it hadn't been meant for fighting.

"We've grown on her." Varric bent to pick up the discarded coat, tossing it unceremoniously on one of the trash cans as if he read her mind. When he met her eyes he winked cheerfully.

"Like fungus." Cassandra retorted.

Maria smiled, but her attention had been caught the way Bull looked from her, to Varric, back to her again. The Qunari was far too careful to reveal whatever he was thinking before he was ready, but Maria didn't like the look of keen interest on his sharp, intelligent features.

"Need help taking any of your other clothes off, boss?" Bull teased calmly. "I think we can find a volunteer to assist."

"Nope." She didn't rise to the bait, ignoring both men at her back. Then she stopped, the taunt wicked and delightful in her mouth, too tempting to resist. "Unless this is your way of asking to borrow my bra. I understand the need for proper support, after all."

She gestured to his own broad chest, the powerful and massive pectorals she knew were barely hidden under the proper button-down shirt. Bull laughed so loudly Cassandra shushed him.

"Is this really appropriate?" Cassandra asked with a severe frown. "Is he not your lawyer?"

"Technically." Maria inclined her head toward the front of the chantry. "Can we go now?"

And with one last disgruntled sigh, Cassandra relented.

The wooden door was heavy and something about placing her palm flat against it made her stomach twist uneasily. The simple worn grain under her bare palms felt like a haunting reminder of… something. Something that remained frustratingly out of reach. Something important, she knew it had to be important and if she could just remember…

She remembered, instead, the words from her dream, the claws on her skin.

You afraid, Cadash?

No, she thought stubbornly. No, she wouldn't be frightened. She took a deep, centering breath and shoved the door open, the creak of it swinging forward nearly loud enough to drown out her heartbeat.

The sunlight filtered down from stained glass windows above them, scenes of blessed Andraste herself burning alive. It painted parts of the worn carpet in jewel tones. The heavy scent of incense lingered in the air. In front of her, through the little entry way they found themselves in, Maria could see the doors to the nave propped open. Pews stood in neat little rows toward an altar surrounded by a gang of people all talking softly among themselves.

She couldn't hear much of the conversation. Something about an elder? Maria's own last name dropped scornfully into the discussion.

She recognized the back of one of the figures. The woman who rolled the glass toward her in the conference room. Maria frowned and looked up toward Bull. Cassandra, Varric, and Cole slipped in behind her, quietly shutting the door.

So the voice that came from their left caused all of them to whip around, guns pointed at the woman who emerged from a niche.

"There you are darling." The woman sighed as if relieved, looking at a watch on her wrist and nodding to herself. Her posh accent signified wealth and privilege as surely as the tailored, sexy white dress and matching knee high boots accenting her coffee colored skin. "We feared you would be delayed."

The woman didn't bother to whisper. Maria heard the conversation in the nave peter out as their group stared, agog, at the woman pulling a slim cell phone from her handbag. Cassandra lowered her handgun and glared stiffly.

"Madam Vivienne." The Seeker greeted cooly. "How… in character of you."

"Hardly!" The woman laughed. Maria heard movement in the other room as someone approached to investigate. She tore her eyes away from the woman to the more immediate threat, gun raised, as Vivienne continued. "Oh, darling, it's been awful! I miss Val Royeaux dreadfully. I have tried to help my peers navigate this utter disaster, but they believe I am unsympathetic to the lives of the common witch."

The doors to the nave slammed shut without anyone being near them. Maria took a startled step backwards, right into Varric's broad chest. He put a steadying hand on her shoulder and indicated the door with his shotgun. "Should we be concerned about that?"

"Oh, do put that away." Vivienne gestured to Maria's gun with an elegantly manicured hand. "We could hardly expect you to do the work for a party we are hosting, could we? No, no my dear. Allow Dorian to do the heavy lifting."

Maria did not put her gun away, mostly because she wasn't sure anything happening in the nave belonged to a party she wanted to be a part of. Despite the sunlight flickering through the windows above them, Maria watched the light from under the door vanish, replaced with inky darkness. Then she heard one shrill scream, one that was quickly cut off. Then another. Followed by another.

"That doesn't sound good." Bull remarked grimly.

"Oh, no darling it's fine." Vivienne cooed. "He's simply rendering them unconscious so we have some time to talk."

"He doesn't want them to see." Cole murmured. "Hiding. Hopeful. Hurting."

"Talk about what?" Cassandra asked pointedly.

The door to the nave burst back open with an outpouring of that inky black smoke. Maria peered into it suspiciously, leaning forward…

She still wasn't prepared for the thing that hopped through the door, a little ball of black feathers carrying a strand of pearls proudly. She thought it was a raven carrying its treasure, but she couldn't be sure.

"Oh, you little beast!" Vivienne scolded, reaching for her own neck irritably. "I was looking for those, drop them this instant!"

Instead of obeying her, the creature rose into the air in a flurry of feathers, landing somewhere in the rafters. Maria heard it caw down as if it were laughing at the proud woman below. Vivienne glared, raising her finger and pointing…

"Don't you dare." A man stepped out of the swirling, dissipating smoke that clung to him like a lover. He gestured a ballpoint pen threateningly at Vivienne. "Unless you would like to join our friends in there."

Maria couldn't help herself from staring. She took in the man's bronze skin, sinfully full lips, dark curling hair and stylishly trimmed mustache before she allowed her gaze to drop to his dark, fashionable shirt tucked into pants just tight enough to show off the athletic form beneath.

Politics aside, if all witches were this fucking handsome it was a crime to hide them away. He was the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen.

"Your familiar is the most ill behaved…"

"Those pearls simply were not working with that outfit. We all know it." The man dismissed with a wry smirk, leaning casually against the wooden door frame and crossing his arms over his chest with an air of satisfaction. His eyes weren't on Vivienne, but instead caressed Maria from her hair down to her toes. She could feel the scorch marks left in his wake.

"Careful boss." Bull rumbled. "The pretty ones are always trouble."

And, like the sun coming from behind the clouds, the man grinned. "Yes! I am rather pretty, aren't I?" He winked devilishly down at Maria. "As are you. The camera doesn't quite do you justice. Your mugshots, in particular, do you a disservice."

She really hoped the pleased flush in her skin wasn't obvious.

"Allow me to introduce ourselves properly." Vivienne straightened regally. "My name is Vivienne d'Montfort. I am a first-class witch and the former cabinet minister for mysticism to Prime Minister Celene Valmont prior to this dreadful war. I have been an outspoken advocate for peace with our templar brothers, as Seeker Cassandra can tell you."

"And yet you are here." Cassandra remarked stonily.

"Well, yes. Where else would I be?" Vivienne rolled her pretty dark eyes with a bitter smile. "Although if I were not so dedicated, I would have gladly sat the whole thing out darling."

A politician if she ever saw one, but Cassandra seemed as relaxed as she ever was, which meant Vivienne was no threat. And Maria was much more interested in the man examining her curiously. "You sound like Teviner." She observed.

"Ah! They've said you're rather clever." With a flourish, the man dropped into a bow as elegant as if he were greeting the damn king of Ferelden. "I am Dorian Pavus, son of Magister Halward Pavus, a rather impressive connection if I were still in the Imperium, I assure you. Alas…" Dorian shrugged as he stood, gesturing to the old chantry. "It does me less credit here in this charming chilly wasteland."

"At the risk of sounding unduly suspicious…" Varric pointed to the still bodies strewn over the nave floor. "Aren't those your people?"

"Yes." Dorian admitted quietly, looking over his shoulder. "Yes. They are. But my people have a large enough problem being the boogeymen of Thedas. This… this is unlikely to help our image."

"You're in charge of PR for the Imperium?" Maria asked sarcastically.

"You're in charge of dashing heroics for the Carta, are you not?" Dorian raised an eyebrow. Maria had to concede the point.

"Is it not odd that you arrange this summit, darling, then arrive to find all the doors slammed in your face?" Vivienne asked.

"As if your ambassador's hard work never happened at all!" Dorian made a gesture with his pen again.

"Do stop waving your focus around to make a point." Vivienne snapped irritably. "You're going to cause a fire."

"It would only be an improvement on this hovel." Dorian sniffed. "Anyway… everything up in smoke. As if part of a mysterious conspiracy to thwart you! Or…"

"As if by magic."

Solas appeared silently in the nave behind Dorian, his gaze locked on the Tevinter man. He clutched his jawbone in one hand and was frowning severely. Dorian turned and glared before looking over his shoulder at Maria with an expression of immense displeasure.

"Does the dour dramatic-moment ruining elf belong to you?"

"He's part of my team." Maria defended with no small amount of amusement.

"Lovely! If you are already used to working with witches, it will be no problem for us to join as well." Vivienne chirped, tapping her phone. "Allow me to just make some calls, darling."