Some notes:

1. The first couple chapters of this fic are fairly close to the game, but that's only for the character development. It stops being so faithful the script after chapter 2.
2. I'm committed to weekly updates on Saturday.
3. This was initially unbetaed until chapter 9. It's now done by DragonIfYouDare on AO3.
4. This is my first time writing in a long time, so patience please!

After over two weeks of travel, Anne Trevelyan thought Haven might have looked more worth it. The tiny city of tents surrounding the walls seemed larger than the village itself. Turning her horse down toward the lake, she looked back up at it. Even from a low angle, it was hardly impressive.

Smaller than Papa's smallest demesne, she thought. The Chantry at the top of the hill was certainly striking, but only for such a small town.

Max dismounted to pass their missive to the soldier. Anne was distracted by her armor - no banner or colors. Anne had expected the Conclave to be guarded by the Chantry's Templars.

"We're to stay in the Chantry tonight," Maxwell announced, coming over to offer his hand. Anne smile and slid gently down from her sidesaddle as Max's manservant, Charles, set the grooms went to work with the horses and baggage.

As they walked through the gates, Anne looked back at the soldier and began, "I thought..."

"It would be bigger?" He smiled, looking down at her.

Anne laughed. "Well, yes. But I thought we were here for a peace talk?"

"Well, we are. But it is still a war." He rested his other hand on his sword. "The mages and Templars won't come without arms."

"Then who do these soldiers serve?"

Max looked uneasy. "I'm not sure."

Another soldier stopped them at the Chantry doors, then had a Mother lead them through the hall. Walking through it was unnerving; there were at least fifty people, but almost none of them were talking. Instead they seemed to mill around each other, some with purpose, some without. Anne clutched Max tighter without realizing it.

At the farthest end of the hall the Mother bent and opened a door with the keys on her belt. It was threadbare, with only two small beds and one lantern.

"We ran out of rooms at the Temple. This will have to do," she said, already turning on her heel and leaving.

Anne sighed. It would have to do. Sitting on a bed, she craned her neck back to look at her husband. "I'm not sure you'll fit, Max."

His broad face broke into a smile and shut the door behind him. "No?" Leaning down, he cupped her face gently. "You know, I always did want to make love in a Chantry."

Anne burst out laughing in his kiss. "I thought Trevelyans were all good Chantry boys."

Coming to sit beside her on the bed, Max trailed kisses sweetly down her neck. "All good Chantry boys think bad thoughts. That's why we go to the Chantry." Sliding an arm around her, he whispered in her ear, "We need to atone."

She couldn't help but giggle as they tried to fit on the bed. She rolled up onto one elbow to see his feet stuck out over the edge.

"That can't be comfortable."

Lazily stroking her hair, he conceded, "It's not. Don't know how I'll achieve peace without a proper night's sleep."

A smart knock on the door brought them out of their moment. Max huffed but got to his feet to open the door. Charles and some of the men from outside were bringing in their cases.

"Against the wall," Anne said, gesturing to the farthest corner.

Rubbing his hands together, Max said, "Charles - what do you think they have in the way of supper?"

Tess, Anne's handmaiden, sidled into the room. "They say there will be a feast tomorrow, but tonight the tavern will be serving."

Anne bit her lip. It was strange whoever was hosting would not open the peace talks with a feast. Surely the Chantry could spare the money, especially with the Divine in attendance.

"Would you like to rest? I could bring some food back for you," Max offered. Anne nodded. "Yes, it's been a long journey. You go, I'm not hungry yet." He gave her hand a squeeze, then walked out, taking Charles with him.

Anne instinctively let her cloak fall, knowing Tess was behind her to take it. "Did we pack any furs? It's too cold to sleep in here without a fireplace." "No, milady. I'll ask if any can be brought."

Anne hummed her thanks. Stripping off her travelling clothes, she chose her warmest dress. It would wrinkle when she slept, but at least she would be warm.

"Lay Max's warmest clothes out for him tonight. I need a rest."

Rolling down to the bed, she tried to smooth the dress out as much as possible. Tess moved around her, softly singing to herself. It was Anne's first real experience out of the Marches, certainly her first real participation as Lady Trevelyan. Had it only been six months since their wedding?

Her mind went to the banquet her parents had in their honor, with Trave Manor covered in flowers, firs, and lanterns. Her hair had been plaited with orange blossoms, with a wreath for a crown. Her husband's lady mother had made such a fuss about having Anne wear her tiara from her own wedding, but Anne wouldn't have it. Ansburg may be rural and backwater to most nobles, but it the flower crown was Ansburg tradition, and Anne was proud of her heritage.

Couldn't some flowers be spared for their room? She almost ordered Tess to find her some, but then she remembered the terrain. Half the mountain couldn't accommodate trees, let alone flowers. And all that Maker-cursed snow. Sighing, she raised her arm to act as a pillow. Perhaps she had packed poorly, and they had been expected to bring their own pillows and furs. But it hadn't seemed logical to bring the whole household on parade.

And a parade it had been anyway, with their trunks and grooms. She had always known nobles were expected to show their capability to manage their lands and people with their household, but it had been such a headache. Overseeing their small horde through a turbulent ship journey, a five day carriage ride on the Imperial Highway, and then on foot and horse onto the mountain itself had exhausted her.

Maybe she finally lost a little of the weight her husband's mother kept nagging her about. Although her own mother had told her having extra weight would be good for a baby, when they had one.

She shook her head, setting off pins and needles in her arm. Bringing it down, she clumsily reached for Tess as she was passing.

"Could you bring my fur-trimmed cloak? We'll need something to cushion these beds." Tess brought it to her and tucked it neatly under her mistress's head.

"Sleep well, milady." Anne hummed her thanks again, letting sleep carry her off.

It was late when she woke. Or at least, it felt late. There were no windows, and the Chantry seemed even quieter than before. Tess had lit a candle, but Anne couldn't remember how tall it had been when she had fallen asleep.

"Where the stream sings lullaby,
There blows a lily fair.
The twilight gleam is in her eye,
The night is on her hair..."

Oh, that's what woke me up. Rolling over, she found Max knelt next to her bed.

"Good - you're awake. I can skip to the good part." Anne laughed softly; she loved it when he sang to her.

"And sometimes when the beetle's horn
Has lulled the eve to sleep,
I steal unto her..."

"That's the good bit? Not the part where I have your heart in thrall?" she whispered, stroking his face.

"No, no, no, it's when I steal unto you and peep through the door."

Reaching for him, she sighed happily against his mouth.