Work Text:
Cassandra adjusted the stirrups of her saddle, and drove a fist into the small of her back. If she pressed her knuckles just so, it would relieve a bit of the pain and tension there after her long days' ride. It didn't seem to matter how she adjusted anything on her saddle, every day the ride got more uncomfortable. And Maker, how many times would she have to stop to make water? It was getting ridiculous. She sighed, and checked her saddle bags. There was still a bit of Elfroot from the patch she'd found outside Kirkwall, so she took a few leaves and stuffed them into her mouth. She clambered back in the saddle, and gripped her water skin tightly as she rode, occasionally taking a sip.
The city itself was noisy, and urchins ran along the streets. She stopped at a hawker selling apples and purchased a few, munching carefully as she rode to Lowtown. Eventually the evening set in, and she stopped at the nearest tavern. She tied her horse to the post, gathered her bags, and went inside.
The innkeeper informed her that there were no more rooms available, but she might go down the street, and turn right at the intersection, where there was another inn, and she could enquire about a room there. So she left, ignoring the stares of the patrons, and heaved herself up on to her horse again. She slowly went down the street, avoiding the puddles of who knew what, and turned the corner. She almost turned her horse around when she saw the name on the door, but she was so tired that her addled brain decided it was not too much of a risk. And so she tied up her horse again, and gave it an apple for its patience, grabbed her bags, and went inside.
A small Elven woman greeted her. Her vallaslin filled her face, but the effect defined her features, made them somehow more delicate. She smiled, and led Cassandra over to the nearest padded chair. "Oh, dear lady, please, sit down." She turned and hollered into the distance. "Garret! Clear the room at the top of the stairs!" She turned back to Cassandra, "What's your name then? I'm Merrill."
Cassandra's heart sank a little, and she replied. "Cassandra."
"Ooh that's a pretty name. Nevarran?"
"It is." Cassandra sighed. It had been quite awhile since she'd sat in a chair with a back. It was wonderful! Another sigh escaped her lips as a dark-haired man pressed a cup of tea into her hands. It was pitch black, as she liked it, and she took a grateful sip. The tea had something else in it, some herbaceous flavor that made her sigh again. "Thank you." She said, to both of them.
"Well, Cassandra," the man said, "Let's get you upstairs."
The Two mages (Cassandra could sense the lyrium in their blood) led her up the stairs slowly. It took quite a bit of strength to drag her exhausted carcass up them, but between the three of them they managed. They rounded the last step of the spiral stairs, and Merrill led her into a small room, with a bed, a chest of drawers, and a small side table and chair with an old oil lamp set on top. The Mage lit the lamp with a wave of his hand as Merrill led her to sit on the bed. "You can rest now." She said.
Cassandra looked down at her huge belly and rubbed it ruefully. She was quite pregnant, and the kindness of these two people had just about undone her. Tears pricked at her eyes. The child inside her rolled over, and she grunted and laid a hand on her abdomen. Little one had her father's temperament, making noises at all hours. She supposed it was only a matter of time, and she had come to Kirkwall to birth, to at least honor her father in that way. It was the Maker's touch that brought her to the Hanged Man, and Varric's friends.
She sighed heavily as she lay back, and Merrill smoothed the covers around her. "You sleep now, you hear? Baby is not coming tonight. Get some rest."
She groaned, and rolled over and put a pillow between her knees. Sleep claimed her without another protest, so she did not hear Garret Hawke come into the room, nor see the way he glared at Merrill and Anders.
They made sure she was well asleep before they filed out of the tiny room. "Do you know who that is?" Garret asked, running a hand over his tawny brown beard.
"Are we supposed to?" Merrill's lilting Marcher accent made even a simple question sound attractive .
"That, my friends, is Cassandra Pentaghast. And I would wager my very first sovereign that she carries Varric's child."
It was all he could do not to smile at the expressions of wonder, shock, and dismay on their faces. He continued, "Apparently she left Skyhold months ago. When she didn't return, Varric sent me a panicked message. He kept my whereabouts hidden from her, before the Conclave."
Anders sighed. "So you hid before. To protect us?"
"And Merrill."
Justice took over, and intoned, "That's what he meant."
"Hard to tell, these days, when you are Anders, and when you are Justice." Justice rolled Anders' eyes in response.
It didn't matter, when Garret gathered all of them into his arms. "I will get a message to Varric."
---
Hawke sat at the desk and penned a short note.
she's here. come now.
He put it in the box on the desk, in the small office inside Varric's chambers Hawke had been using as his own. He slid his fingers over the latch, then rapped on it twice. The rune on the lid lit up, so he knew his missive had been sent.
The rune glowed again, and he opened the box.
on the way. ---
Cassandra slept peacefully for the first time in months. She woke to the sun rising, streaming rays of gold into the room she occupied in the Hanged Man. The Hanged Man. Shit. She rummaged through her bags and fished out three sovereigns. That should cover her night's stay. As she finished the stone cold mug of tea on the small bedside table, she set them down next to the empty cup, then dressed quickly in a very loose tunic and untied breeches and hauled herself out the door. She was greeted by the smiling human Mage who said, "You need to lay down, Cassandra. You are too far along for travel."
"I cannot stay here."
"Of course you can. It's easy. I stay here all the time."
"I'm not sure I can...bear the food at this place."
The dark haired Mage grunted. "Is that right? The shit we serve is far better than scrounging traps in the wilderness. Please, I have helped many women give birth." He gestured to her bags. "Just as well you have those, though, as I was coming to help you move to a larger chamber." The man put his hand on the small of her back, and guided her down the hallway to another flight of stairs. They went up, and he unlocked the door on the right.
The chamber opened, and the Mage waved a hand, gesturing inside. The room was positively gaudy, with low chairs, full bookshelves crammed with papers and novels and manuscripts, and a low slung, wide bed. There was a painting on the wall of some caves in moonlight, and another of the canals of Ostwick. He led her to the bed, and she sat comfortably with her feet on the floor for the first time in weeks. It might have something to do with the Dwarven scale of the furniture... no, no, no!
This was Varric's old room. It was obvious after she looked around. A collection of hoop earrings on the dresser, a small table with parts of traps, and other things she could not name, a desk with three ink pots and parchment. I cannot be here.
She stood up, and said, "I thank you for your kindness, but I really must be on my way."
The baby kicked her soundly in the bladder, and she nearly wet herself. She looked at the Mage again. He grinned at her and gestured to the next door. "Privy's in there."
When she came out, she saw the second to last person in the whole of Thedas that she wanted to see. Hawke was smiling at her, the smug bastard, and holding out a long tan tunic. She sighed. "Hello, Hawke."
"Seeker Pentaghast. I see you've forgiven Varric for lying to you. Though I don't understand what would possess you to hide from the Inquisition for five months.
She gestured to her belly. Hawke rolled his eyes."A stupid reason. They're positively frantic trying to find you. I can't imagine what would have happened if, say, you were beset by a squad of red Templars."
She took the tunic and sniffed, "I was. I lit the lyrium in their blood on fire."
"Remind me not to piss you off." Hawke said. "Meantime, change, wash, read. Merrill will be up soon with breakfast for you. Please, don't try to leave. Anders is right, you're in no condition to travel."
"That's Anders? I thought he was blonde?" She sat back down, heavily, on the bed.
"A little drakevein in the shampoo, and a conveniently dead, different blonde Mage, and back to business as usual."
"He's an abomination!"
"He's also the best healer on the continent." Hawke grunted. "And I don't throw away people I love."
It was hard not to take that statement personally, and she cursed her pregnant hormones while tears streamed down her cheeks. She put her head in her hands and wept. Hawke sat down next to her, and put an arm around her. "Whatever happened between the two of you, I'm sure it can be fixed."
"I'm not." She could still hear the Davri woman's voice as she stood outside Varric's bedchamber.
Maker, Varric, don't stop, yes, Maker, yes!
"Bianca. As always. I swear, if I ever see that woman again, I'm going to skin her alive." Hawke sighed.
"How did you know?"
"She's the only woman that gives Varric lady troubles. And a very pregnant Seeker showing up on my doorstep screams 'Varric Tethras has lady troubles.'"
"He doesn't know." She had been going to tell him, but when she heard Bianca in his room that night, she turned on her heel, packed her meager possessions, and left Skyhold immediately.
Hawke whistled, and then the door opened. It was Merrill, with breakfast. It was fruit, and tea with ice in it, and a plate of raw calves' liver.
Cassandra glared at Merrill. "Another reason I went into hiding. I hate liver."
"Baby needs it, to fortify the blood. In my clan, we cut it up tiny so you don't have to chew." The lithe elf began to do just that, after she set the tray on the bedside table. The fruit smelled excellent, so Cassandra took a tiny piece of melon and began to eat.
"You'll want to save the rest, for after you choke down the liver." She said, and passed the plate of meat over. "While you're eating, I'd like to have Anders take a look at you." Merrill smiled sweetly at her and poured her a mug of tea.
She dutifully struggled down the raw liver, even though blood dripped down her chin on many occasions. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve, before she realized how very filthy her clothing was. Merrill chuckled at the mess, and passed over her handkerchief. It was hard not to smile in the woman's presence, and as she ate the fruit she started to feel a little stronger. And she suddenly, desperately wanted a bath.
It was remarkably easy to relax in Varric's quarters, but the babe was stubborn, ensconced and comfortable as it was in her belly. Two weeks flew by. She was standing in the privy when her water broke. She cleaned herself up a bit, and then laid a few clean towels on the bed before she lay down upon it herself. Her body squeezed painfully, and she stifled a gasp as the door opened. It was Anders, come to examine her. She'd even gotten used to Justice making appearances. The spirit was somber, but spoke highly of Varric, and would occasionally tell a her story of the Fade.
It was Anders himself this time, who smiled at her, before noticing the small puddle on the floor in the washroom. He began to shout for things like hot water, and towels, and whiskey (?!) before he settled next to her in the footstool near the bed. His examination was thorough, and soon she was wearing only the loose brown tunic Hawke had given her, and a grimace of pain on her face.
Hours, and about a million contractions later, Merrill wiped the sweat from her brow as she pushed. And pushed. It felt like being split in half with a hot iron, and she prayed urgent to the Maker that if she lived through this, she would never complain about cuts or bruises again. She swore a blue streak, in Antivan, then Orlesian. One in Qunlat she'd heard from the Bull. Vishante kaffas! was extremely satisfying. As she began to curse the Maker's and Andraste's various parts, Anders said, "There you are, little one! Cassandra, keep pushing!"
It was not long (it was an eternity) and a small squall pierced the air. "A girl!" Merrill exclaimed. Cassandra's head fell back, as Anders placed the child on her chest. Her arms curled around her daughter for the first time, and she wept with joy.
"Antonia." She said. The baby looked up at her, and inexpertly latched to her breast. They both promptly fell asleep.
---
Lavellan sighed and ran a hand through her white-blonde hair. Varric had called in a favor, and she stood next to Blackwall on the bough of the ship Double Daggers, as the copper-skinned captain shouted orders to her men, then slid down the mast, arms and legs wrapped round it like it was the trunk of a tree. She grinned, and walked over to where they stood. "We're about to dock. Ready to find your missing Seeker?"
"Ready." Lavellan said. "And angry as fuck."
"I still say, she must have good reason." Blackwall did not wither beneath the Inquisitor's angry glare. "And we shouldn't judge until we know."
If anything, Lavellan's glare deepened. "Funny you should say that."
"Moiraine." He said. She held up a hand.
"Go away, Thom."
He shook his head, and pushed away from the railing, and walked to the ladder that led below. He saw Isabella approach her as he climbed down, and watched ruefully as the pirate put an arm around the Inquisitor and said, "You know, your Worship, there's still time for a therapeutic tumble in my quarters, if you've a mind."
Lavellan could not help a laugh. "Thank you, but, I, uh, only like men."
"I bet I could change your mind." She smiled at Moiraine lasciviously. She leaned closer, and whispered something in the other woman's ear. Moiraine laughed again and turned beet red. ---
Cassandra had to admit, it was not so bad at the Hanged Man. She suspected that she and Antonia could be quite happy here, and it occurred to Cassandra, as the baby slept next to her and she stretched her arms and legs out for the first time since giving birth, that she had been here almost a month. She had to assume Hawke had at least sent a raven to Lavellan by now. She dreaded having to face them all. And she could imagine the conversation. "I was sleeping with Varric and got pregnant, and then I left without saying anything because I heard him having sex with Bianca."
But, her beautiful daughter. Varric's daughter. Sleeping with her mother in her father's own bed. One more day couldn't hurt. She would pack up, leave a bag of coin and a grateful letter, and set out on foot in the morning.
She waited until after dinner, then retired early. She hated to leave Hawke and Merrill. Even Anders and Justice, abomination as they were, were kind to her, Justice in its own way. But the next stop was Nevarra, where she would raise the child, hopefully in her Uncle's estate. If not, she surmised she would ride further north, and maybe use all her years of unspent Seeker salary to buy a small house.
Cassandra woke while it was still full dark, and gathered her things. She set up the bag of coin, and another small pile labeled 'For the sheets.' She carefully tore strips from the top sheets, and used them to make a sort of sling for Antonia. The baby woke quietly, and smiled up at Cassandra (Varric's smile, winning and genuine) before making a moue with her lips. She bound her daughter to her chest, leaving both her hands free, and pulled on the deep blue cloak that hung on the peg next to the door. It did not reach her ankles, but was waterproof, and lined with sheepskin. It would be handy for the long ride, and keep the babe warm and covered in inclement weather. It was the last thing, she decided, that she would take from Varric. She opened the window, and stepped out on the balcony, then dropped the ladders as she descended the emergency route for fires.
---
They were all exhausted, and it was well after sixth bell when the party finally reached the alley behind the Hanged Man. A cloaked woman was strapping her saddlebags to her horse, and they made room for her to exit. She was leading her horse, walking, and halfway down the street when Varric saw the deep slope of her brow, and the scar under her eye, and turned his horse to follow.
Cassandra was relieved; she'd literally walked right past him. Antonia, bless her, fell back asleep, snuggled warmly in her swaddle and sling. She looked down at her daughter and smiled, and fell in love with her all over again, with her shock of wavy, pitch black hair, and her warm sandy complexion. Her soft sighs as she snuggled close, and the way her fingers would curl tightly around one of her Mother's. She gently kissed her daughter's forehead, then tightened the sling a bit.
"Seeker."
Cassandra froze. She felt her breath leave her body in a rush, felt her arms tighten around her baby, stirring her to wake, and drawing a soft cry. Cassandra turned to face him, and when she met his eyes, clutching their whimpering daughter, it felt as though she had been struck in the stomach, and that her feet were somehow glued to the cobblestones beneath them. Imaginary cotton filled her throat, and she could only stare at him, mouth gaping.
"Sweet Maker." Varric said. "Why? How could you? How could you keep this from me?"
She turned on her heel and began to walk. Maybe if she ignored him, he would go away.
And perhaps she would somehow, before he could speak again, be carried far away into the night on the back of a shining, rainbow-winged griffon.
"Don't you dare," he spat, furiously, angrier than she'd ever heard him, "Don't you dare walk away from me right now."
She kept walking, and he spurred his horse, cutting her off. He stared down at her, from his saddle, and saw his daughter's face for the first time.
His daughter. She was beautiful, with short dark curls, and her mother's razor cheekbones. Her jaw was a bit wider, his maybe, and soft with infancy. Her ears were tiny, and whirled just like Cassandra's. When she opened her amber eyes and smiled up at him, she was all Tethras. Anger melted away for a moment, and the author in him had to describe the feeling as wonder. He was in love, as surely with her as he had ever been with Bianca or Cassandra, but when he looked at the Seeker's haunted, frightened face rage choked him again. "How could you leave and not tell me?"
She inhaled through her nose. "I came to tell you, the night I left. Bianca was in your room with you."
"Bianca? What?" He'd been blocking it out, all these months, consumed with finding an elusive Seeker of Truth. But his last, and final, conversation with Bianca had been...horrible. They'd said terrible things to one another, the kind of things you can't take back. She'd mocked him for sleeping with a human, asked him to draw her a diagram. Asked if the Seeker liked to pray during sex. Does she sing for her stupid Maker? Varric ripped her, asked Bianca if she had an open relationship, and did she like coming into his life for a few days and watching it all fall to shit around his ears for a fuck against a wall with a married woman?
Varric was sure he'd never hear from Bianca again. And that was how he wanted it. But honestly, there were a few points in that conversation, if overheard out of context, that could be misinterpreted badly. Most especially by the Seeker. Well, shit. He'd suspected, but had not known.
His heart sank and his face fell, and he lost all hope when she pulled on the reins of his horse and it moved out of her way, but just then, the Inquisitor's voice. "Seeker Pentaghast, stop!"
She did. Thank the Maker. Moiraine rode up and dismounted her horse, face bright red against her ashen hair. Her silvery vallaslin accented the angry effect, and seemed to whirl around her left eye. The Inquisitor felt the wrath of Sylaise herself in her belly, and opened her mouth to yell. Then her eyes fell to the smiling bundle Cassandra held and just as suddenly it was gone, replaced by a feeling of...
Joy. Delirious, unstoppable joy. This was what she was fighting for. Her whole face lit up, and she smiled beautifully at Cassandra. "A baby!" She practically sighed. She held out her left hand and the child reached up and grasped her finger, and burbled a little at the dimly glowing Fadelight. "What's her name?"
Cassandra was still looking at Varric, but she answered. "Antonia." The Seeker watched as he slid down from his saddle to stand next to Moiriane, who was whispering in Elvish at the baby. She flinched when he grabbed her elbow, but didn't shrug him off. "Why would you even want to find me?" She asked.
A gentle rain began to fall, and Blackwall rode his horse up to them, finally. "We should get inside."
Moiraine looked up at him, babe still holding her finger. A sad smile crossed her face, quickly replaced by a serene mask. "I agree. It looks like it's about to rain. Cassandra. Join us."
"Please, Cassandra?" Varric asked. He tugged on her elbow, and she let him lead her back inside the Hanged Man.
---
The door to Varric's room closed softly behind him, and Cassandra sat down on the bed with a bit of familiarity. He realized she'd been staying there, in his old space. She might even have had the baby here.
He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud, but she said, "I was. I did."
Antonia mewled, and Cassandra clucked soothingly at her, unwrapped her from the sling, and held her against her shoulder as she sorted through a bag for a strip of fresh swaddling. "But I didn't touch anything that looked important."
He watched as she changed their daughter, and marveled at the gentleness of her hands as she inexpertly wrapped the babe up. The cloth seemed snug enough, and she scooted up to the headboard, then draped a bit of the bedsheet over her shoulder for modesty and began to nurse. Cassandra waited for Varric to speak , feeling her stomach sink as his face changed, from wonder and awe to shock and anger, back and forth. He inhaled hard through his nose, then blew air out of his mouth, visibly trying to calm himself.
"Why didn't you tell me, Seeker?"
"I went to your quarters to tell you, the night I left. You were with...with her."
Silence thickened in the small room.
"We were fighting. How much did you hear?"
"Enough. And it did not sound like fighting."
She looked down at their daughter and fought back tears. Varric dragged a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down, and his face was flushed as he reached for her right hand, which sat loosely on the red coverlet. When his fingers brushed hers, she jerked her hand away, and slipped it under Antonia's back. She continued, "It sounded like you two were...she was asking for the Maker."
He sighed, heavily, and looked over at her. Her head was tilted back against the headboard and her eyes were closed, as if she were waiting for the most unpleasant thing she would ever hear. And perhaps it would be. "Cassandra, she worships the Ancestors."
Her head snapped over to look at him. She glared, and said, "Do you actually expect me to believe that?" While she spoke, she unlatched Antonia and put her on her shoulder. She gently patted the babe's back. Antonia let out a impressive burp for her size and her father smirked. "She takes after you, Varric, in that way."
He shook his head. "If it helps, ask Merrill."
While Cassandra switched the baby to her other breast, she cooed at her daughter and smiled as the child grasped her finger and latched on. Varric watched them together. "So you left because you thought I was having sex with Bianca."
"That is true. Understand," she said as she looked down at Antonia, "What exactly I was coming to tell you."
"It's extremely clear now. And I'm sorry, Seeker."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until it was time to burp again. Antonia made another ridiculous belch as someone rapped on the door. Both Cassandra and Varric said at the same time, "Come in."
Merrill opened the door with a soft smile, and strode to the bed. "Have we had our breakfast then? The Inquisitor herself requests Antonia's presence. She wants to hold the baby, she does." The slender elf held out her arms, and Cassandra smiled as she covered herself again. "Hello gorgeous," she cooed at the infant in her arms. "Let's go meet your Auntie Moiraine and Uncle Blackwall. Leave your mum and da to work things out." Merrill looked pointedly at Varric before she turned to leave, holding the child and singing softly in Elvish.
"A moment, Merrill, if you please." Cassandra stood up, and came around the bed to stand in front of the smaller woman. "Does the woman Bianca worship Andraste?"
"To my knowledge she does not. We've had many discussions about the Ancestors and the Creators. Quite fascinating, actually, until she left me in a nest of Slavers."
"She did that to you? Maferath's ticklish balls, Daisy, I had no idea."
"Oh, please, it took a few cuts, but I emerged with fewer scars than I had before I went in. If I ever see her again, there will be a discussion."
Cassandra sighed and looked at Varric. "She has never been good for you, has she?"
Merrill left the room, wisely, as Varric said, "I've begun to think she's only ever been good for herself."
---
It took very little time for Moraine to fall in love with Antonia. She held the little miracle in her arms and looked over at Blackwall, who kept a very stoic expression on his face while the Inquisitor began to sing to her.
It suddenly didn't matter to Moiraine, what happened between them. She gestured with a hand for the not-a-Warden to sit next to her, and sidled closer to him with the infant. "She's beautiful," the Inquisitor said, smiling at Antonia, and then Thom, in turns. "She's perfect."
"You want a child, someday, don't you?" Blackwall asked quietly.
"Someday. Maybe. We will have to figure it out."
"So there's hope, then?"
Varric and Cassandra came down the stairs an hour later, holding hands. ---
.