Author's notes: These shorts were written to accompany fan arts I drew for a 12-part series looking at the evolution of my male!Amell's companionship with Leliana from Lothering to the Calling. Perhaps because I am a recent graduate with a Bachelor's degree in Fine Arts in Visual Art, but I actually look at these as a fan art series first and formost, despite all I've written for it.

Because these were written to accompany the art, I originally didn't intend to add them to FanFiction. However, when I saw the sea of Alistair fiction (and I like Alistair, don't get me wrong) and a sad lack of Leliana works, I decided to add this series here. I ask that you please check out the accompanying fan art though, as I put as much work into them as these writings.

You can find the first fan art here (remove spaces because FanFiction's stupid about links): hollychan. deviantart. com/ art/ Seasons-of-Love-Early-Spring-155457816

So far I've completed the first five parts of the planned twelve. The sixth image is finished, but I've yet to write its accompanying story. The other half of the series has the base colors down for the works, so I should (hopefully) finish this within the next week or so.

Without further ado, I hope you enjoy my brief return to fan fiction writing in quite some time. :)

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Streams of orange-red light streamed over the hilltops, the sun slowly descending behind them. Legam raised his hand to the side of his face, shielding his eyes as one particularly bright ray blinded him before disappearing beyond the horizon. His vision slowly returning into focus, the Rivaini mage turned his head to look back at his traveling companions.

Alistair, his fellow Grey Warden and deliverer of witty comebacks, stared at his feet while he walked. No doubt the events at Ostagar still rattled him, despite their earlier conversations and Legam's attempts to raise his spirits. The mage understood; to suddenly lose one's family – or, well, the equivalent thereof, at least – so suddenly and so mercilessly… It brought back Legam's unpleasant memories of his early days at the Circle, when his old life at home ended and his days at the tower began. He shook his head, flinging the thoughts from his mind, lest he too become morose.

His gaze then fell onto Morrigan, the odd and scantily clad witch from the Korcari Wilds. She joined when her mother, Flemmeth, ordered her to assist the Grey Wardens in their mission against the Blight. The younger apostate joined reluctantly, and already made it apparent that social graces were certainly not something abominations of legend teach their daughters. Still, she fought by their side with great skill and confidence, which was more than Legam could say for himself. Even after Ostagar, Legam fought hard to resist the urge to flee the minute death came rampaging at their door. Whatever the witch's attitude, Legam appreciated her aid.

Benjamin, the Mabari that re-imprinted himself upon Legam and joined them on the road after leaving the Wilds,
casually pranced alongside his new master. Viscous and deadly in combat, as he was bred, the warhound proved sweet and even-tempered (if a tad manipulative with food) otherwise. Currently, he watched the road ahead, his tongue hanging lazily outside his mouth. Legam allowed himself a smile at Benjamin's demeanor, scratching the Mabari behind the ears. The hound responded with a short, cheerful bark.

Legam chuckled, turning his gaze towards Sten. A… Qunari, was it? He vaguely recalled reading about the Qunari people in some old history tome back at the Circle, but retained little other than their kind warred constantly with the Imperium, and practiced a philosophy very unlike that of the Chantry's teachings. Legam rubbed his short, trim beard in thought. In fact, he was fairly certain he heard that his own people, the Rivaini, once battled with the Qunari, but eventually brought peace and even adapted some of their ways. Perhaps his parents, immigrants from Rivain, knew more about that – if they were even still around to speak with him. He shrugged, knowing as little about his own roots as he did the stoic warrior walking behind him.

Finally, the mage turned to their last party member, Leliana. Though she joined their group before Sten, Legam knew less about her than he did the Qunari. Earlier, she chatted cheerfully with Alistair as they walked out of Lothering. Now the red haired human hummed softly to herself, serenely observing the setting sun. Legam thought back to her assistance in Dane's Refuge. Where a lay sister learned to fight like that, he had no inkling… But she offered no explanation, and he didn't feel like prying too much at the moment.

While her past remained her right to keep, Legam admitted that her… Interesting claims about the Maker and vision stoked his curiosity. For the past several hours, he kept his nosiness to himself, but he felt his willpower draining the more he contemplated it. Finally, curiosity won out, and Legam slowed his pace, soon falling into stride with the robed woman.

Leliana raised a ginger eyebrow at his approach, a questioning smile lifting the corner of her lips. "Yes?" she prompted, reading his face and knowing an inquiry dangled at the tip of his tongue.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Suddenly, he felt like an intruder, breaking her peaceful contemplation to pester her with his prying.

She chuckled, gesturing lightly at herself, "Well… Here I am." Her heavy Orlesian accent coated every word. The last time Legam heard such a voice was… Six or seven years ago, when mages for the Orlais Circle came to visit Irving on business. A lovely inflection, Legam decided. One he heard far too little.

He mentally slapped himself for the derailment of thought, and cleared his throat. He decided to get straight to the point. "About this vision of yours…"

Leliana frowned, dreading the direction looming ahead, "I knew this would come up sooner or later…" She sighed, "I don't know how explain it, but I had a dream…" The lay sister looked away from her leader, clenching her fist to her chest. How could she explain this without appearing to be ridden with some form of insanity?

"In it, there was an impenetrable darkness. It was so dense, so real. And there was a noise, a terrible, ungodly noise…" She shivered, recalling the chill that ran down her spine, even in the midst of her dreams. Leliana continued, "I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything… and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I… I fell, and the darkness drew me in."

Legam stopped, intrigued by her tale. Both hands gripped his staff as the mage leaned into it, raising an eyebrow. "You dreamt of the Blight?"

"I suppose I did. That is what the dream was, no?" The Orlesian nodded. "When I woke, I went to the chantry's garden, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered…" She waved her hand, spreading her fingers out in pantomime of a budding rose.

"Everyone knew that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled—" Her fingers curled, mimicking the plant's malformed state, "—the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was – a single, beautiful rose."

"It was as if the Maker stretched out His hand to say, 'Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.'" A wide, serene smiled spread across Leliana's face, thoughts of the Maker's love lifting her spirits and bolstering her confidence in her vision.

Still tangled in her woven web of recollections, Legam nonetheless continued his query, "And this made you want to help me?"

She placed a hand to her chin, reaching further into her mind to pull back the remnants of her vision. "In my dream, I fell or… or maybe I jumped… I'd do anything to stop the Blight. I know that we can do it." She looked up at the mage, smiling confidently with a short nod. "There are so many good things in the Maker's world. How can I sit by while the Blight devours… everything?"

The woman had great conviction in her beliefs, Legam couldn't deny that. Still, the thought of the Maker taking an active role in His creation once more was… Strictly speaking, heresy. "The Chantry says the Maker has left us."

"He is still here; I hear Him in the wind and the waves, I feel Him in the sunlight that warms my skin." She tilted her head, accepting the soft breeze that fluttered her hair. How others could not feel His love all around them, she never understood. "I know what the Chantry says about the Maker, and what should I believe? What I feel in my heart, or what others tell me?"

Legam stared at the road ahead, silent for a moment, absorbing all that she said. Though a devout man of the Chant, Legam found her views perplexing, yet… Not offensive. Certainly not bothersome enough to condemn or mock her. The mage looked back at the young woman, smiling supportively. "Believe what feels right to you, Leliana."

Leliana returned his sincere grin with one of her own. "Thank you. It's nice to find someone who agrees." She looked back at the setting sun, a great weight lifting off her chest, glad to have shared her vision with someone who didn't judge her for it, or her unorthodox views. "I know what I know, and no one will ever make that untrue."

Legam followed her gaze, seeing the last few red rays of daylight vanish past the far off hills. As its warmth left them and the chill of the evening began to settle, Legam felt his thoughts meandering once more. Perhaps… Perhaps there was something to his new companion's beliefs. He found it quite hard to witness the beauty of the sunset and the emerging stars and believe their creator would abandon them. He… Had much to think on.

The darkness of night flowed over towards them, and Legam shook himself from his contemplation, noticing their other companions were waiting ahead. The mage turned back to Leliana once more.

"Come," his head and hand gesturing onwards. "It is getting late and we will need to break for camp soon. Let us catch up with the others."

Leliana chortled lowly, "Of course. After you, Grey Warden. I'm right behind you."