Hey, guys, long time no post! Got a new one, with a pairing you don't see often because it is - unfortunately - noncanon. Schnarf prompted me (read below) and I jumped aboard because I was also disappointed you couldn't romance Leliana in DA:I. I mean, I get that you wouldn't be able to if you romanced her successfully in Origins, but I do think that if you didn't romance her in the first game, you should get the option to in Inquisition, am I right? No? Don't judge me, I love her to pieces, it physically pained me to see her so cold throughout so much of Inquisition!

This winter has kicked my ass, between getting surgery done on my knee, therapy for that, work after it started to work correctly again, and life begin, well, life. I have been chipping away at several fics throughout the winter, and this was the first to be finished. I've got a Rizzoli & Isles, Kim Possible, and two Pitch Perfect fics in the works, so y'all are aware.

Let me know what you think, yeah? I'm proud of my headcanon Trevelyan, I like the balance in attitude and ability I gave her, but I'd like to hear from you guys, really.

Prompt from Schnarf – 'What about something with a female inquisitor and Leliana? It's a shame you can't romance her in DAI, and I haven't seen many fics with this pairing.'

The pair of horses blew hard in the cold autumnal air, hooves pounding across the packed road toward the smoke billowing in the distance that was cast in an eerie green glow by the enormous tear in the sky behind it.

"Faster, Cassandra!" The rider up front sunk lower over her horse's withers, giving the stallion his head so he would gallop faster. The hood covering her eyes flew back in the chill wind, revealing disheveled red hair, shorn short and decorated with a couple thin braids. She peered back over her shoulder at her companion and said, "We must get there soon!"

"We will injure our mounts if we do not slow down, Leliana!"

"But there may yet be others alive, Cassandra!"

Cassandra, clad in her armor bearing the Eye of Truth, urged her own mare up alongside Leliana and said over the pounding of hooves, "And if we run our horses into the ground now, we will take that much longer to reach the Conclave! See reason, Leliana!"

Leliana reluctantly reined in her stallion, pulling his mouth in close to his chest when he tried to wrestle the bit back and their horses blew hard through their noses to catch their breath, steam billowing in the air. "We are only a couple hours out from Haven; only a few days after negotiations were to begin," Cassandra said, sitting easily atop her mare. "It could very well be a fire for the soldiers, Leliana."

"But I know it is not, Cassandra. No campfire smokes that much, that darkly." The Left Hand pointed at the smoke billowing toward the sky for emphasis. "And what is that thing in the sky behind it; it is not natural, I can tell you that much, Cassandra!"

"We will find out the truth, Leliana, only have a little patience. Come, we near the road to Haven." They rode up the incline and came upon groups of soldiers and pilgrims alike, disoriented and covered in soot and blood.

"What has happened here," Cassandra asked a Templar, reining in her horse as she whinnied and gave a little jump sideways.

"Seeker Pentaghast, what are – you yet live? Thank the Maker, it is – it is chaos! The Conclave is in ruins, the Divine dead!-" The Templar's voice broke and he knelt heavily in the snow, taking a knee and praying fervently.

Beside her, Cassandra heard Leliana inhale sharply and turned in the saddle to find the redhead urging her stallion up the hill. "Leliana!" Cassandra followed her past the Chantry, up the steep mountain trail to the Temple of Sacred Ashes –

"Maker, no."

– only to find that where the Temple had once stood, only smoking ruins and the disturbing green glow remained, the skeletal remains of humans frozen in various poses of fear. Leliana sobbed in heartbreak and slid off her mount, stumbling toward the wasteland that had housed the Conclave, and the last hope of reconciliation between the mages, Templars, and the Chantry.

"Leliana…" Cassandra slowly dismounted, watching with tormented eyes as her counterpart fell to her knees in the dust and snow and rubble, shoulders shaking with sobs.

"No, no, not – not her, not the Divine, please, Maker, no."

Cassandra knelt behind Leliana, pulling her back against her breastplate and hooking her chin over her shoulder. "It will be alright."

"How? How will anything be alright again?"

Leliana cried harder and Cassandra pulled her closer, whispering to her quietly as she fought back her own tears as she stared at the carnage. "Who would do such a thing? Maker, is this a test?"

Cassandra watched Leliana pore endlessly over the maps laid out across the table inside the tent they'd taken over as the center of operations in the aftermath of the explosion. Her face was stoic, expression perfectly vacant in the wake of the tears she shed earlier with only a faint rim of red lingering around her eyes. Cassandra listened to the bustle of people walking purposefully outside the thin canvas, shifting on her feet as she watched her friend's shoulders tense with each clang of metal clashing and shout from soldiers and wounded alike as they shuffled past the tent. The Seeker whirled when the canvas flap was yanked back and had half drawn her sword when she realized it was a scout standing in the open door, eying her warily.

"Apologies, ser. I have a message for Sister Nightingale."

Cassandra nodded and let him pass, watching the scout hand over a hastily rolled scroll and press his fist over his heart before leaving them alone once more. Leliana scanned the note and Cassandra felt a thrill run down her spine. The Left Hand, normally unflappable even in the most unusual and perilous of situations, was quickly losing what little color she had regained since finding the Temple in ruins, her hands shaking subtly as her breath came faster. "Leliana?"

"Someone is alive…"

"What?"

"Someone lived! Cassandra, a woman survived the explosion! She could have answers! They have taken her to the dungeons beneath the Chantry and are waiting for her to wake. Another scout will inform us when she has regained consciousness." Leliana returned her attention to the maps at her back, but Cassandra could see she was distracted by the way she fidgeted and shuffled on her feet restlessly.

Several hours passed before the tent flap was thrown back, admitting a burst of chilly air and another scout who told them the woman had come to and they were awaiting their arrival to question her. Leliana swept excitedly from the tent with Cassandra trailing in her wake, trying to rein in her cautious hope as they neared the doors of the Chantry. A guard stood at the stairs leading down into the dungeon, nodding at them as they passed and descended into the cold, stone gloom. Despite the torches set in sconces at regular intervals on the walls, the area still seemed dark and dank, and Cassandra shuddered as her gaze slid over the cobwebbed corners and shadowed alcoves. Before her, Leliana strode silently along the damp stones; hood pulled up for both anonymity and warmth and gloved arms swinging at her sides purposefully.

Two more guards stood at attention at the end of the corridor, facing ahead with visors lowered as the Hands approached the cells. Cassandra nodded at them when they passed, pausing when she saw the half dozen armed warriors standing, weapons drawn and pointed at the figure kneeling on the hard ground in the middle of the ring of people. Long, chestnut hair thrown into disarray, scratched and dented armor, quaking shoulders and arms, a quiet grunt as green sparked at fingertips and biceps flexed uncomfortably; Cassandra noticed all of that in the moments after her eyes alighted upon the woman – prisoner? – kneeling on the straw strewn stone. She was certain Leliana noticed far more, watched as the redhead began circling the woman silently, keen eyes observing every twitch and movement she made. As Leliana prowled around her, the soldiers withdrew their weapons and stood at attention in a loose ring, wary, tired eyes following the Left Hand silently.

Cassandra felt her temper rise as the woman refused to lift her head and stormed into the ring, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her head back. "How did you survive," she asked vehemently, taking in the sunken hazel eyes that had trouble focusing on her, the long, narrow scar that cleft her eyebrow in two and disappeared into her hairline, marked by a shock of white hair at her temple. "How did you get this?" She grabbed her manacled hands and lifted them above the woman's head, watching with fascination as her left one sparked with green light and the woman screamed, tendons standing out sharply beneath the skin of her throat as her fingers clenched convulsively.

The woman wrenched her hands away with surprising strength and cradled them close to her chest, glaring up at Cassandra balefully. "I do not know what you are bloody talking about!" Her voice was rough with pain, although somehow retaining a cultured edge that hinted at some education.

Cassandra curled her lip in disbelief. "I do not believe you. Did you plan this, this massacre, and somehow get caught up in the aftermath of your own plot? What did you do?" She got right into the woman's face and reared back suddenly when a wad of bloody spit landed on her cheek, swinging her hand back to deliver a punishing slap when her wrist was caught in slim fingers.

"Cassandra, calm yourself. Becoming violent will solve nothing." Cassandra's nostrils flared but she forced her muscles to loosen and lowered her arm, sneering at the woman's superior expression as her hand was stayed and the redhead strode past her to crouch before the prisoner. Leliana took her jaw in hand and tilted her head aside to peer at the myriad wounds dotting the side of her face and throat. "You are injured."

"I had not noticed," came the flippant reply and Leliana smiled a little.

"No one has tended to your wounds?"

"Obviously not, they are too afraid I might bite, m'lady." The woman grinned in a feral manner, bearing prominent eyeteeth and bloodstained gums before spitting bloody mucus off to the side.

"Oooh, such manners! May I enquire as to your name, ser?" Leliana delivered her lines quietly, coyly batting her lashes as the woman eyed her curiously.

"Only if you give me yours as well."

"Very well. You first, ser."

"I am Ser Quinn Trevelyan, Guard Captain of the city of Ostwick, formerly knight initiate of the Templar Order, and general bastard of House Trevelyan."

"Trevelyan? One of the more powerful noble houses in the Free Marches, no?"

"And the most pious, if the rumors are to be believed. Although, personally, the last time I invoked Andraste's or the Maker's name, it was in a decidedly unholy manner." Quinn grinned coquettishly, although the effect was somewhat ruined by the blood smeared across her teeth.

Behind her, Leliana heard Cassandra snort in disgust and hid her own amusement behind a stern façade. "Quite the contradiction, are you not?"

"What can I say?" Quinn shrugged and winced briefly, catching Leliana's eyes. "Living in the barracks amongst the guards, one grows immune to the mens' many…shall I say, eccentricities, and learns more than one would think. Besides, I was long disenchanted with the Chantry's narrow view of the world."

"How dare you! To set foot in this holy place and blaspheme-"

"Peace, Cassandra." Leliana tossed a look over her shoulder at the Seeker, who crossed her arms and frowned mightily at the woman kneeling before them. She returned her attention to Quinn, who had watched the interaction with interest flaring in her eyes.

"I did not have much choice, did I, now? Last thing I remember, I was freezing my arse off in one of those tents down the hill, waiting to start the blighted Conclave, then I come to with this pain in my hand like someone set pokers under my skin and these lovely gents sticking their swords in places they don't belong." She wriggled her eyebrows humorously, snickering when Cassandra grunted again.

"Ah, yes, and now we return to the crux of the issue at hand." Leliana ignored the innuendo and stood, staring down at the woman with keen eyes. "You say you do not remember what happened, yet have somehow –miraculously, might I add – survived an explosion that killed everyone in the immediate area of the Temple." Her brows lowered dangerously, as did her voice, and her words cut like daggers. "You bear a mark with an uncanny resemblance to the breach in the sky, one that is spilling forth demons of every sort as we speak, you have no defense for yourself, you have no alibi, no way to prove yourself innocent…one could assume you were guilty and merely, what do the guards say, lying out your ass."

By the end, Leliana was snarling, her face twisted with rage and helplessness, and had reached for Quinn's breastplate, lifting her bodily to her feet so they stood toe to toe. The woman's head lolled as a sense of vertigo washed over her and bit her tongue when Leliana shook her roughly, legs shaking and threatening to give out on her. "Do not dare pass out on me. Answer my questions!"

"Afraid…afraid there was not one…m'lady."

Quinn's eyes rolled back until Cassandra stepped forward and slapped her cheek none too gently. "Do not play stupid, Trevelyan! Why did you do this, why kill the Divine and sabotage the Conclave; to what end did you do this thing?"

"Already said I did not…" Quinn's legs gave out and she collapsed unceremoniously to the stones, barely catching herself on her hands and knees before crying out as the mark sparked a poisonous green and curling into herself as much as her battered armor would allow. "I do not rem…remember what happened, I…I swear it."

"And why would we believe your word? Why would we trust you?"

Cassandra's hand cut through the air as surely as any weapon, her words piercing the haze that had lowered over Quinn's mind. She muzzily raised her head, tear tracks staining her cheeks as she glared up at the Seeker with bloodshot hazel eyes. "I do not lie, Ser. Despite my…my family's somewhat…dubious morals, I do not…lie to get my way." She slowly uncurled herself and knelt again, back defiantly straight as she swayed unsteadily. Her skin an alarmingly pale tone, she nonetheless pressed her palms against the stone and pushed herself to her feet, nearly toppling over before gaining her feet entirely.

Cassandra and Leliana both took a step back when they realized just how tall the woman was, how imposing she looked even trembling and wan. Her armor, though dented and irreparably damaged, added bulk and heft to her otherwise lanky frame. Her bound hands clenched rhythmically and a muscle ticked in her jaw as she stared her captors down boldly. "If you want to make me your scapegoat, then say it to my face, ser. Otherwise, I demand you release me and return to me my weapons."

Cassandra gaped, astounded at her audacity, and Leliana chuckled. "Fine," she said lowly, "you want release?" She stepped into Quinn's personal space, going toe to toe with the tall woman. "Prove your innocence." Her words washed across Quinn's chin and the brunette tilted her head down to meet vibrant blue eyes that sparked threateningly. The redhead turned on her heel and silently swept out of the cells, her hood fluttering in the wake of her retreat.

"Hey, you never told me your name!"

Cassandra stepped into her line of sight and yanked her forward, pulling her out of the cells and up the stairs into the Chantry proper. "Regardless of what we think or you say, the others that were not in the immediate area of the explosion have decided your guilt. They need someone to blame for this…this senseless act," Quinn's ears perked when she heard Cassandra's voice hitch, "and you are the one they have accused." Her eyes watched the bystanders they passed warily, catching the sneers and expressions of rage, distrust, sorrow that filled their faces.

More than a few people cursed her and made to approach her but were headed off by Cassandra, who kept a hand on the hilt of her weapon as they approached the gates that opened to a path that meandered up the mountainside. Cassandra stopped just outside the gates of Haven and turned to face Quinn, pulling a dagger from behind her back and approaching the woman. Quinn tensed as the knife flashed, reflecting the sickly luminescence of the sky, and heard metal scraping together as it nicked her bracer. "I do not know what to expect up there, but I will not have you bound and helpless like a pig to be slaughtered. Stay with me."

"As you say."

"…ugh, fuck, my head…"

"You know, for a noblewoman, you have a very crude tongue."

Quinn's eyes snapped open and she lurched upright, regretting the action immediately as her head swam and her stomach threatened to empty itself. She found a bucket sitting beside the bed and threw up into it, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand when the heaving stopped. A damp rag was passed over her brow and she shut her eyes as it cooled her overheated skin, finding a cup of water pressed to her lips which she greedily drank. "Who?..."

"Do not tell me you have forgotten my name already, Ser Trevelyan." The playful, sultry, accented voice gave rise to new sensations that whirled madly in her stomach and upset her equilibrium again. She opened her eyes to stare up at the alluring redhead from the dungeon, still dressed in her confining hood and leather gauntlets that covered every inch of skin other than her face.

A coy smile flitted across her unpainted lips and Quinn felt her ire rise at the memory of her treatment when last they spoke. "You never gave it to me, if you recall. What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on your condition; you fell ill after your interaction with the breach and the herbalist was worried you would not wake. How do you feel?"

Quinn eyed Leliana balefully, gingerly sitting upright and grimacing as her head spun sickeningly and a headache began throbbing behind her eyes. "Why do you care? You seemed perfectly content with me possibly dying, why bother pretending you give a damn now?"

"Do not mistake my callousness the other day for uncaring, Ser. I…" Leliana paused, looking sheepish as she ducked her head, and the short strands of hair framing her face fell forward. "I apologize for my actions then; I was distraught over the death of the Divine. I know it is not a reasonable explanation, but it is the only one I have to give you, unfortunately. My companion, Cassandra, has been…less than happy with me these past three days, I am afraid."

Despite her anger, Quinn felt forgiveness stir in her chest at the remorseful look in blue eyes. She sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose to try and alleviate the heavy pressure pounding beneath her skull, and stiffened when she felt cloth cover her hand gently.

"Let me, it is the least I can do." With a mistrustful glance up at the redhead, Quinn lowered her hand and felt her begin to carefully massage her temple. "My name is Leliana, by the way."

Quinn hummed in acknowledgment and they sat in silence for many long minutes afterward, Quinn's eyes gradually closing as the pressure was relieved and her head leaning into the soothing touch with a grateful hum. She felt gloved fingers brush against the scar on her temple and snorted as it lingered, prying open her eyes to see a question clear in Leliana's eyes. "My second year after becoming a guard, I drew night watch and was careless out on patrol. Some petty thieves were scaling a house in the upper quarter and we engaged them," she spoke quietly, eyes half closed in memory as Leliana continued drawing soothing circles on her skin. "I was not watching my back, paid for it with a blade against my skin. They thought I had lost the eye at first, felt like it, too, for a few weeks afterward. It was a near thing, but I was so pissed with the bastard that I put him down with my bare fists."

Leliana drew one last swirl on her temple, then stepped back and held her hands out, smirking when Quinn raised a brow curiously. "Come, Cassandra has asked for your attendance at a meeting. Unless you do not feel up to the task, of course. I am sure I could tell them you are not feeling well eno-"

"No need to do that, I am fine." Quinn swung her legs over the edge of the bed and braced her hands on the mattress, waiting for the dizziness to pass before attempting to stand. She stumbled as she rose and Leliana's hands gripped her biceps, holding her steady as she got her bearings.

"Yes, you are quite fine indeed." Leliana's tone was teasing as she waited for Quinn to straighten and stared up at her, realizing again that her nose just barely reached the warrior's chin, and the simple homespun tunic and trousers didn't take away from her impressive stature and musculature even after several days' convalescence. "Do you feel well enough to go to the Chantry and speak with everyone?"

"Do I really have a choice?" Quinn sounded slightly winded after the minimal movement but strode toward the door and pulled on her soft soled leather boots, leaning against the wall for stability and watching Leliana sway toward her. "Lead the way."

They slowly walked toward the Chantry and Leliana watched out of the corner of her eye as Quinn was approached and venerated by those who were gathered on the path. She seemed slightly overwhelmed by the attention, shoulders stiff and gait wooden – although that could have been because of her lingering weakness, Leliana supposed – as they approached the Chantry doors. Once inside the relatively sparsely populated building, her stance relaxed and she met Leliana's eyes. "I see that people remain fickle as ever."

Leliana smiled wryly and opened her mouth to reply when they were interrupted by a man in robes who stalked up to them, Cassandra on his heels with a perturbed expression on her face. "You! Why is this woman not bound? I demand she be put in chains and readied to travel to Val Royeaux for trial!" He pointed pompously at Quinn, directing his order at the guards stationed at the doors behind them, and gawked when neither moved. "Are you deaf as well as stupid, you armored louts? Arrest her-"

He squeaked unimpressively when Quinn stepped into his personal space and loomed overhead, a scowl carved into her features that made her look stern and fearsome. "You do not speak to your men that way, ser. I do not know who you think you are-"

"I am Chancellor Roder-"

"I do not give a rat's arse if you are the fucking Maker's arsewiper, you do not address your men-at-arms with anything less than complete respect, or you are liable to be facing them in a far less forgiving environment. Do you understand me?" Her voice lowered until she was hissing, leaning in to the chancellor's face until they were nose to nose. Her hazel eyes burned into his with dark promise; the threat apparent without her raising her voice or a hand against the man. Roderick paled and sputtered incoherently before turning on his heel and stalking away without another word, and Quinn sighed quietly as she straightened again, swaying slightly on her feet.

Cassandra, having barely moved so Roderick didn't brush against her, strode forward and caught her forearm in her grasp. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine, let's go."

Quinn's jaw tightened as she walked past the Seeker, neither noticing that Leliana was behind them, features frozen at the warrior's audacity. She shook herself and trailed after them, shutting the heavy door behind her once inside the room they had commandeered as a War Room. She took her place at the head of the table, Cassandra and Quinn on her right, the latter studying the maps strewn across the large table with interest, while a man and woman stood on the other side of the table at her left, watching the warrior with interest blatant on their faces.

"Ser Trevelyan?" Quinn's head bobbed in acknowledgment, although her eyes never left the pieces that littered the maps. "I would like to introduce the other members of the Inquisition, if I could drag your attention away from the maps for a moment?"

Quinn yanked her gaze away from the table and met Leliana's eyes. "My apologies."

Leliana dipped her head and then gestured across the table. "May I introduce Ser Cullen Rutherford, former Templar of the Ferelden Circle at Lake Calenhad, former Knight-Captain of the city of Kirkwall, and our Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, such as they are."

"Well met, Ser Trevelyan. I have heard of your escapades as guard captain of Ostwick; quite a reputation you have earned there."

"Yes, well, with seventeen years service and an unfortunately prominent family name, I have seen more than my share of odd and, shall I say, colorful things, and I am sure my reputation has been grossly exaggerated, Ser Rutherford."

Cullen chuckled and the woman to his left stepped forward, extending her hand in invitation. "Since Leliana is not feeling particularly well mannered today, I suppose I must introduce myself. I am Lady Josephine Montilyet, ambassador for the Inquisition and political liaison to whatever allies we make."

Her richly accented voice and charming smile made Quinn soften slightly, and she took Josephine's hand in hers and kissed the back of it chivalrously. "It is a pleasure, Lady Montilyet, to be in such company as yours."

To her side, she heard Cassandra snort disdainfully, and Leliana stalled the retort on the warrior's tongue. "You know Cassandra and I, of course, but our dear Seeker Pentaghast could use a more thorough introduction, I think."

"Leliana, do not dare-"

Leliana's dismissive wave made Cassandra visibly bristle and Quinn bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the murderously uncomfortable expression that covered the Seeker's face. "Ser Trevelyan, may I present Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, Seeker of Truth, Hero of Orlais, and Right Hand of Divine Justinia." The playful glint in Leliana's eyes was marred by the hitch in her voice when she mentioned the Divine's name.

Cassandra rounded on Leliana with a snarl on her lips and jabbed her finger against the table pointedly. "You know I detest that name, Leliana!"

"This is why I insist on using it at formal functions, Cassandra," Leliana said, humor dancing in her eyes, "as it is such an entertaining response you have toward it! One might wonder if you have something against such a title…" She tapped a finger against her chin, staring Cassandra down fearlessly, and Quinn raised her brow at Josephine in question. The ambassador shrugged, smiling softly, and Cullen sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot as the stare down continued.

Quinn broke the stalemate by tapping her fingertips against the maps, drawing their eyes away from each other and toward her. "Not that that wasn't positively entertaining, but there seems to be one introduction we lack yet. You," she stepped away from the table and approached Leliana, circling her with long strides and meeting the redhead's secretive smile with one of her own, "have yet to introduce yourself to me beyond more than a first name."

"Perhaps I enjoy maintaining an air of secrecy, Ser Trevelyan."

"Nonetheless, let me see if I can eke out any of them." Quinn made another circle around Leliana under the watchful stares of the others, sweeping her gaze up and down her frame deliberately before coming to a stop before her, hip cocked to the side and arms crossed over her chest. Leliana stared up at her with an inscrutable expression, hands clasped behind her back and hood casting part of her face into shadow. Quinn smiled and winked at the redhead, and Leliana felt her face heat with an uncharacteristic feeling of flattery. "A beautiful, mysterious woman, who wanders the village with her hood up and gauntlets on at all hours of the day, who speaks in riddles and half truths, who is, oppositely, ruthless and charming between the span of two heartbeats.

"A woman who seems dually self-confident and uncertain of everything, who leaves nothing to chance if she can help it. And one who, if I could venture to guess, is hiding at least a couple blades beneath the lovely leather work of her gauntlets," Quinn said, relishing in the surprise that flitted across Leliana's face before being covered with a rueful smile. "Might I venture correctly, Leliana?"

"You may indeed. I am the Inquisition's spymaster and lead the scouts that travel ahead of the body of the troops led to fight. As a formality, I ask that outside of these walls and our present company, you address me as Sister Nightingale, Ser Trevelyan. You understand that I must maintain a certain amount of…mystique, in my position here, of course."

"I can agree to those terms, if you cease calling me Ser Trevelyan among our present company. I had enough of that in Ostwick amongst the sniveling nobles."

Leliana's eyes twinkled as she bowed a little at the waist. "As you wish, Your Grace."

"Thank – what?"

Leliana looked positively wicked and, behind her, Quinn heard Josephine chuckle. The ambassador tapped her on the shoulder with her quill. "Since your victory at the Temple, the people have taken to calling you the Herald of Andraste; we can use this to our advantage to gain allies and resources to further our cause."

"But what does that have to do with anything else?"

"As a term of respect," Josephine began carefully, watching Quinn's expression closely, "the people will address you as Herald or Your Grace, among other honorifics."

Quinn's eyes rounded and she waved her hands through the air. "No, no, no, that will not happen. I will not allow-"

"And how will you stop it, hm?" Leliana touched Quinn's shoulder to regain her attention, one red brow arched. "They have been calling you such since you passed out; the moniker is already so ingrained that it would be next to impossible to change at this point. I am afraid you are stuck with it, Your Grace."

Quinn growled and dragged a hand through her hair, tangling it further than it had been before. "Fine, fine, whatever. Let us move on, then. What have we got?"