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Right, so here’s the thing about Evelyn, yeah? She’s all proper and Inquisitor-y most times, wearing that fancy title like armor (not the good kind though, not like actual armor that stops you getting stabbed, more like those shiny tin suits nobles wear when they wanna look important but would crumple like a piss-soaked biscuit if someone actually hit em). But underneath all that?
Something sharp. Something broken. Something beautiful.
Like them fancy Orlesian mirrors (y'know, after someone’s lobbed a boot at ‘em. Which is definitely the best part of those things).
She’s sprawled across their bed (their bed, still weird thinking that, weird in a good way, like when you find extra biscuits in your pocket and don’t remember putting ‘em there)-boots half-off, crinkle between her brows saying she’s thinking too hard again. Fingers tapping that quiet rhythm against the sheets, the one only she can hear. The one that means lyrium-want’s bad tonight. (Not that she ever bloody says. But Sera’s not daft, yeah?)
Back’s to the wall again (old Templar habit, that. ‘Cause apparently, walls stop people from stabbing you in the spine. Except they don’t, not when you’re asleep, which is when stabbing usually happens. Stupid Templar logic). Bet she don’t even know she does it anymore.
And the glowy bit? Yeah, doing that thing again. All pulse-y and green, like one of them posh Orlesian party lights (but useful, unlike those ridiculous glowing wine fountains they’re so bloody proud of). Funny, that-Eve used to hate magic, back in her Templar days. Now she’s got it stuck to her like a permanent badge saying, Look who’s magical now, ya prissy tits! (Proper ironic. Would be funny if it weren’t also a bit tragic.)
Sometimes it's useful too. (Mostly just for reading her moods, which-let’s be honest-is very useful. Like an honest Orlesian mask. Which don’t exist. So technically, this is a one-of-a-kind feature.) Lights up that scar on her cheek too-the nasty Kirkwall one she don’t talk about. (Not unless it’s stupid-late and she’s stupid-tired and Sera’s got both arms round her, all proper-like.)
Sera pokes her forehead, right where the wrinkles are worst.
"Oi, your hand’s getting all shifty again. Doing that thing where you’re trying to solve everyone’s problems at once. Stupid."
Eve tenses (like a bloody deer in the woods, ready to bolt at the first loud noise. Wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a Templar command stored in the back of her skull for exactly this kind of moment-‘stop squirming, initiate!’-ugh, sod that). Then she forces herself to relax. One eye cracks open, green as the anchor and twice as sparkly when she’s pretending to be cross. (Shadows under them now though, yeah? Didn’t used to be. Herald business. Templar business. Too-much-shite-to-handle business?.)
"Someone has to think about consequences," she mutters, but her hands got that little shake that says she’s thinking about different consequences altogether. (Older ones. Kirkwall ones. Maybe even before that. And definitely ones she won’t talk about unless Sera pries them out of her with biscuits and a well-placed kick.)
"Like what happens when Josephine discovers all her fancy writing stuff’s gone weird."
Eve snorts, quiet-like, and the anchor settles into that warm honey-glow (the "I'm happy but trying not to show it" one, which is Sera’s favorite, if she’s picking). Dead easy to read now, once you know what to look for. Like how when she’s proper angry, it goes all zappy, like lightning in a bottle. Or when she’s scared, it flickers all dim, like candles in the wind. (And when she’s trying way too hard not to care, it barely glows at all, which is worrying and also very annoying because she still refuses to bloody talk about it.)
"Yeah, well, thinking about consequences is what got you all..." Sera waves her hands around, covering the tightness in Eve’s jaw, the shadows under her eyes, the way she wakes up screaming. "Wasn’t even properly my fault this time, was it? You’re the one what said, ‘Sera, my head’s going to explode if I have to sign one more trade agreement with some stuffy Orlesian tit.’"
She don’t get the voice right (posh Free Marches accents are hard, okay? Not her fault Eve talks like she’s got a silver spoon shoved up her-well, never mind). But Eve’s mouth twitches anyway.
"That wasn’t an invitation to cause chaos!"
(Ah-ha! There’s that proper almost-smile. She’s trying not to, but it’s bloody well there, lurking.)
"’Course it was! Everything’s an invitation for chaos with you, innit?" Sera rolls closer, breathing in that smell that’s all Evelyn-leather and metal and that fancy soap she pretends she don’t nick from Vivienne.
"Speaking of chaos though..."
"No." Immediate, that. (Suspiciously immediate.) But the anchor’s doing happy little jumps that say different.
"Didn’t even say nothing yet!"
"Don’t have to. That’s your ‘let’s do something incredibly stupid’ face. I know that face."
Sera grins so hard her cheeks hurt.
"Shows what you know, yeah? This is my ‘let’s do something brilliant that happens to also maybe be a tiny bit stupid’ face. Completely different."
She props herself up, watching the way Eve’s fingers finally stop their twitching, the way her breathing evens out. (See? Best medicine for old hurts is new trouble. Works every time. Like biscuits. Or throwing things.)
Sera grins down at her useless love, all stern and trying to be proper (which is adorable and also complete bollocks because Sera’s seen her faceplant trying to get out of her own armor), but the anchor’s flickering all excited-like.
So right, you know how Leliana’s been extra... Leliana-ish lately? Since you went with her to that fancy chantry place, yeah
The anchor actually sparks at that. (Brilliant. That’s the "you have my attention but I refuse to admit it" glow.)
"Absolutely not. Whatever you’re thinking-no. I like being alive."
"Not anything bad! Just... helpful-like." Sera waves her hands, trying to make the idea make sense outside her head. "See, she’s got these new ravens, right? Proper fancy ones, all black and mysterious like she is. But! What if they weren’t?"
Eve pushes up on her elbows, looking proper suspicious now. "Why do you know about her new ravens?"
"Might’ve borrowed some reports from Charter’s desk. But that’s not important!"
(Really, it isn’t. Focus on the bigger picture, yeah?)
"What’s important is that scary messages are less scary when they come tied to a pink bird, yeah?"
Understanding hits Evelyn’s face like a pie (all shock and mess and trying-not-to-laugh).
"You want to dye Leliana’s ravens? Her specifically trained spy ravens? The ones she uses for all her very important, very secret communications?"
"Rainbow ravens!" Sera bounces, caught up in the beautiful chaos of the idea. "All swooping about being all pretty instead of scary! Perfect way to lighten everything up a bit, innit? Everyone’s been too serious lately, what with all the end-of-the-world shite."
"She will actually murder us." But the anchor’s going proper mad now, all swirly and bright
"Only if she catches us." Sera leans in quick, steals a kiss that tastes like possibility.
---
Right. The plan.
Proper simple, yeah?
Step one: Sneak into the rookery. (Easy. Everyone’s used to seeing them about at weird hours-Eve’s nightmares make sure of that. Plus, Eve’s got that whole I belong here walk now. Which is funny, ‘cause Sera’s seen her practice it when she thinks no one’s looking. Like, why? Who’s she rehearsing for?)
Step two: Get past the guards. (Even easier. Bunch of ‘em are Jenny friends anyway. Amazing what you can do with a few well-placed extra rations and some accidentally overheard gossip about which nobles are shagging who.)
Step three: Introduce Leliana’s Very Important Spy Ravens to some completely harmless, definitely non-lethal colour powder.
Step four: Leg it before anyone notices.
Foolproof.
Except, of course, that nothing with Evelyn ever goes foolproof.
Sera’s barely got the pouch open when-
SQUAWK.
"Shitting balls," she hisses. "They’re supposed to be sleeping!"
"Maybe they can sense evil intentions?" Eve whispers back, frozen mid-reach. The anchor’s flickering now, confused-like, like it can’t decide if it wants to be excited or very, very afraid.
"They’re birds, not demons," Sera mutters. (Probably. Maybe? Demon birds could be a thing. Templars ever fight demon birds? Why’s that not in the hundreds of boring shite Eve read about them?)
She narrows her eyes.
"Think they could be demons?" she whispers. "That’s a thing, yeah?"
"Sera, focus!" Eve’s whisper is half a groan, half a laugh, but she’s already reaching for the pouch. "Quick, let’s just-"
Ahem.
(Oh. Shite.)
Sera’s seen Evelyn move fast before-proper impressive in a fight, she is-but never quite like this. They both spin round so quick it’s amazing neither of them falls over, and-
-There she is.
Leliana.
Hood up. Arms crossed. Perfectly still, like a shadow pretending to be a person. The rookery behind her is quiet now-too quiet. Even the bloody birds know better than to make a sound.
It ain’t just that Leliana’s scary (which, she bloody well is). It’s that she’s watching, in that way only she does-like she already knew they’d be here, like she’s seen every stupid step that got them to this exact moment. Like they’re already caught, and they’re just wasting time pretending otherwise.
Sera doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink.
Eve, smart woman that she sometimes is, also doesn’t move.
Leliana tilts her head just slightly, just enough for the torchlight to catch her eyes-sharp, unreadable, dangerous.
"Inquisitor. Sera."
Oh, bollocks. That’s her nice voice. That’s the worst one.
"Would you believe routine inspection?" Eve tries, voice a bit too high. Anchor flickers—pure panic.
Leliana just… waits. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t need to. The weight of her knowing just presses down on them, like a trap that’s already sprung.
Behind her, one of the ravens shuffles on its perch. (Traitor. Should’ve at least warned them.)
Sera swallows. Eve’s fingers twitch.
Then-Leliana smiles.
(Oh. No. No, no, nope, absolutely not-)
"Run!" Sera yells, grabbing Eve’s hand and legging it.
Behind them, Leliana laughs.
Actually. Laughs.
(Oh. No. No, no, nope.)
Nobody should sound that pleased about catching someone about to rainbow their ravens.
They fly through the halls, boots slamming against stone, rounding corners so fast Sera nearly eats flagstones. Evelyn’s got her hand clamped on Sera’s wrist, dragging her forward with that Inquisitor strength-(unfair, really, her arms are huge for someone who’s meant to be all noble-like). Behind them, soft footfalls echo in the dark, too steady, too calm. Leliana isn’t running. Leliana doesn’t have to.
"Left-left-no, right!" Sera yells, nearly yanking Eve’s arm out of its socket trying to avoid a passing patrol.
"That’s a cupboard!"
"And? Could’ve been a good hiding spot!"
"For who?" Eve gasps, barely avoiding a suit of armor that looks very expensive and very breakable. "One of us? Both of us?"
"I dunno, maybe if we stacked-"
Something moves ahead of them. A blur in the torchlight.
"Oh for fuck’s sake-"
Sera grabs Eve and hauls her into the next hallway, nearly flattening a poor servant carrying a tray of-biscuits? (Oh, that’s just cruel, now she’s got to steal those later.) They keep running, keep twisting through corridors, past confused guards and nobles, past a very startled Josephine, who only has time to blink before Sera and Eve are gone.
"Main hall," Eve gasps, tugging Sera toward the doors. "She’ll expect us to head for the tavern-"
"So we don’t!" Sera wheezes. Her lungs hate her. "Windows, yeah? We chuck ourselves out one!"
"We are not throwing ourselves out a-"
Eve skids to a stop so fast Sera slams into her back.
Ahead of them, the hall is empty. Too empty. No guards. No servants. Just the flickering torchlight and a stretch of stone floor that feels too exposed.
(Oh. Oh, that’s bad.)
Sera doesn’t hear her. Doesn’t see her. But she knows.
"She’s here," Eve breathes.
"No shite."
A breeze stirs the torches. A shadow shifts by the arch.
"We need-"
"-to move," Sera finishes.
But Eve’s not moving. She’s hunched over, breathing too hard, the anchor flickering erratic and wild like it’s caught between fight, flight, and full-blown explosion.
(Oh. Shite. That’s not good.)
"Oi, oi, stop-stop," Sera hisses, grabbing Eve by the front of her stupid fancy jacket. "You’re lighting up the whole bloody hall!"
Eve sways. Blinks. "I’m-"
"Glowing like a sodding beacon, yeah! Here-"
Sera doesn’t think. She yanks Eve’s coat off her shoulders, nearly dislocates an arm in the process, and throws it over the anchor.
"There! Now we’re only half a beacon!"
Eve blinks down at her, eyes glassy, breath still too fast. Her hands flex, then tighten in the fabric of her own coat like she’s trying to ground herself.
"Okay?" Sera demands. "'Cause we gotta go-now."
Eve sucks in a breath. Nods.
And they’re running again.
They stumble into the gardens at full tilt, boots skidding on dewy grass, barely managing not to eat dirt as they careen toward the outer garden wall. Sera’s lungs are dying. Eve’s still gripping her wrist like it’s the only thing keeping her upright, and the anchor’s glowing through the stupid jacket like some kind of possessed lantern.
Too open. Too exposed. Nowhere left to run.
"Inside!" Sera hisses, already tugging Eve toward the side door-except-
The door doesn’t budge.
Locked.
(What? Who even locks this bloody door?)
Eve sags against it, breath ragged. "That’s... not good."
"What gave it away, the part where we’re trapped or the part where-"
A breeze stirs the leaves. A branch creaks.
A shadow moves.
"Shite."
Sera doesn’t see her at first—she just feels it, that prickle at the back of her neck, the creeping certainty that something is wrong. The air’s too still, too watched. Even the birds-those bloody, traitorous birds-are dead quiet now.
Then-Leliana steps into the moonlight.
No rush. No sound. Just there, in the open like she’s been part of the night all along.
Her hood’s still up, her face half-hidden in shadow, but Sera can see the hint of a smirk curling at the edges of her lips. Like she’s already won. Like she’s frigging enjoying this.
"You almost made it."
Eve stiffens beside her. Sera swallows.
No weapons drawn. No threats. Just Leliana, standing there, looking at them.
(Somehow worse than if she’d had a bloody knife.)
"You-" Eve starts, but her voice comes out rough. She clears her throat. Tries again. "How did you-"
Leliana tilts her head, amused. "Did you think I wouldn’t anticipate you of all people running for the gardens?"
(Oh. Right. Right. Because of course she knew. Of course she had people watching the whole bloody time. Because she’s Leliana. Spy. Master. Sera, you absolute tit.)
"And now," Leliana continues, stepping forward, voice still unfairly calm, "shall we discuss appropriate consequences for attempting to interfere with my messenger system?"
Sera looks at Eve. Eve looks at Sera.
(Right. Options.)
Option One: Apologize. Grovel. Maybe cry a bit if necessary. (Nope. Leliana’s not the "forgive and forget" type. That’s a terrible plan.)
Option Two: Bluff. Say it was all a misunderstanding, an accident, a- (Okay, even she doesn’t believe that one. Leliana definitely won’t.)
Option Three: Chaos.
(Sod it.)
Sera moves fast, grabs her last packet of powder, and chucks it-
-directly into Leliana’s stupid, perfect, terrifying face.
Silence.
The powder explodes in a blinding cloud of pink and gold, catching in Leliana’s hood, clinging to her cloak, turning her entire front half into something straight out of a sodding bard’s festival. A raven squawks behind her, probably as horrified as Sera is.
Leliana doesn’t move.
Doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t even blink.
(Oh. Oh, this was a terrible idea.)
"Did you-" Eve starts, voice somewhere between horror and awe.
Leliana slowly lifts a hand. Dusts pink off her sleeve.
Still doesn’t speak.
(Shite. Shite.)
"Run again?" Sera whispers.
"Run again."
And they bolt.
---
Later, after the longest bollocking in history (Sera swears Leliana stretched it out just for fun), and some threat about stable duty (which, let’s be honest, won’t stick for long), Sera’s back in their bed, sprawled half on top of Eve like she belongs there. (Which, she does, obviously.)
Eve’s stretched out too, looking all soft and lazy, blinking slow like she’s finally stopped thinking herself to death for once.
(That’s the real win, yeah?)
Sera trails her fingers across Eve’s palm, doodling nonsense. Little arrows. Bees. A wonky shite arse-looking nug. (Masterpiece.)
Eve’s fingers, Not twitching anymore. Just still and warm, and stops being Her Worship The Important Tit for a bit.
"Worth it?" Sera asks, because duh, of course it was, but she wants to hear Eve say it.
Eve turns her head, just enough to look at her. (Sera’s stomach does a weird flip. Dunno why. Not thinking about it.)
Then-Eve snorts. Then full-on laughs, proper deep, stupid-lovely, shake-the-bedframe laughs.
(Brilliant sound, that. Might be her new favorite thing.)
"Maker help me, but yes."
Eve glances toward the rafters, like Andraste might swoop down and scold her personally. (Oh no, she had fun! Call the Divine!)
"Though next time," Eve says, still breathless, "maybe we pick someone less likely to have us killed in our sleep?"
"Where’s the fun in that?" Sera grins, leaning up to kiss the leftover laughter off her mouth. Kisses her again, 'cause she can' 'cause Eve still don’t get that she’s allowed to have things' and Sera’s happy to keep proving her wrong.
"Besides," Sera mumbles, "bet that’s the first time anyone’s surprised her in ages. Probably good for her. Keep her humble and whatnot."
"We’re never living this down," Eve groans, but she’s still grinning."The mighty Inquisitor, done in by her own stupid pranks."
"Could be worse," Sera points out, pressing in closer because it’s comfy, because she wants to, and because nobody’s here to tell her not to.
"Could’ve actually managed to dye the birds. Then we’d really be in for it."
The anchor flickers. Actually bloody flinches.
"Don’t even joke," Eve mutters. "I think she’s got people watching us now."
(Might’ve been a laugh from somewhere in the shadows.)
(Neither of them’s stupid enough to check.)
Sera grins, curls in closer, presses her face into Eve’s shoulder where she smells like leather and that stupid fancy soap she pretends not to steal.
The anchor’s still doing its glowy thing, all dim and flickery, not all zappy and dramatic like earlier. (Good. No one needs surprise lightning in bed.)
Which is probably the only reason this wasn’t a complete disaster.
Even if they do have to spend the next month making friends with the horses’ back ends.
Worth it though.
Definitely worth it.
Especially since three days later, one of Leliana’s ravens shows up to a very important meeting with Charter.
Sporting a perfectly pink tail.
Nobody can prove anything, course.
But Eve’s anchor goes all sparkly whenever anyone mentions it.
And Sera swears she catches Leliana almost smiling.
Sometimes the best pranks are the ones that take a bit of waiting, yeah?
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