AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had left this story alone for a while having written it under a different moniker and now after a hiatus I am back at writing - I hope you will excuse any rustiness. I have been toying with the idea of what would happen if my Inquisitor were to fall in love with Leliana and what difference it would make to the events in Inquisition.

Mostly you'll recognize the events of Inquisition, but I may adapt them to the story I want to tell. The same goes for the dialogue- it is loosely inspired (and at times may be) the one you hear in the game- but not the same. Bioware owns everything but my Inquisitor, Leandra.

Comments are much appreciated. Please note that English is not my first language, so should you see any errors, please feel free to point them out. I always aim to improve.

Chapter 1: The Time For Ideals

The Herald

The wind cut like a blade against my cheeks and probed with icy fingers under my cloak. With an irritated sigh, I pulled it tighter around myself, but still could not suppress a shiver.

Haven bustled with activity around me, as I leaned, half-sitting against the table outside the requisition officer's tent. People came and went, scraping and bowing respectfully whenever I chanced to look at them.

Those who actually meet my eyes and don't treat me like I truly am Andraste reborn. I thought with a wry smile, that felt more like a grimace. Sooner or later some woman would bring me their infant child so I could impart them a benediction.

And to think a little more than a month ago they were ready to hang me as the murderer of the Divine.

I could have escaped the awed looks and the attention by shutting myself into the small house I had been assigned as quarters, but then I would lose my perch, the best spot I had found where I could steal unobtrusive glances at the Inquisition's Spymaster. Gossip could be found anywhere around camp and rumor had it she had been an Orlesian bard perhaps even involved with the Empress herself, before casting her lot with Divine Justinia. I briefly wondered what a Divine would need one such as Leliana for, then decided I rather not know.

I did not know why I felt so intrigued by the secretive redhead. I just knew I could not help myself. She was the one who had stayed Cassandra's hand when, eaten by grief, the Seeker had been ready to strike me down. Maybe I felt like I owed her and was watching for the chance to repay the debt.

Right, Leandra. That's all there is to it.

"You know Peaches, I have heard if you actually talk to the people you are interested in, you increase your chances of interesting them back."

I jumped, biting back a startled yelp and found Varric leaning beside me. I felt my cheeks burn up with sudden embarassment. Maker, have I been so absorbed in my study I didn't hear him approach?

"Besides," he continued, crossing his arms over his barrel-like chest, "if you stare that hard she is bound to notice."

I frowned down at him and he gave a deep chuckle, shaking his head. Apparently he was not so awed by the whole Herald deal that he would miss the chance to poke some fun.

"I wasn't staring," I feebly objected, hearing the lie in my own voice, "I was just...looking."

"I'll give it to you," he grinned, refusing to let the matter go, "she is a pretty thing to look at." I shifted uncomfortably and he relented. Barely, "but really, staring until your eyes fall off, won't get you anywhere."

He winked and grinned up at me, and I could not help returning the grin, despite the absurdity of the situation. "You are one to talk, dwarf. You got it easy, married as you are to your crossbow."

Varric threw his head back roaring with laughter. I couldn't help but like him. He was a rouge, honey-tongued and too clever by half and I knew he was around at the sufferance of the Seeker and that she had counseled me against trusting him, but he and I had more in common than she could ever imagine. I wasn't the black sheep of the Trevelyan clan for nothing. And we had plenty of shady characters in our history.

"You think my Bianca is as good natured as she looks? I dread what would happen were I not to lavish her with constant attention".

"I shouldn't be even having this conversation," I muttered, rubbing my eyes tiredly, "we have more pressing matters to attend to." I pressed my hand against my forehead and, as always, I could feel the Mark on my skin. It wasn't a raised scar or an open wound, but I just knew it was there. And as always when I was unwillingly reminded of its presence, it throbbed, shards of white hot pain snaking down my arm.

Varric must have seen me grimace, because he stretched a hand and awkwardly patted my back, his jests forgotten for a moment. I knew he meant well, but he didn't know the full extent of it. None of them did. Slowly I lowered my hand and raised my eyes skyward, to the ugly, pustule-like thing that marred the Heavens. Sickly green light seemed to ooze down, from some sort of vortex, slowly revolving, mesmerizing in its wrongness. As any other time, when I let myself dwell on it, I fancied I could feel the Breach calling to me, drawing me in. With a shudder I tore my eyes away and thought back to the day we went to the Temple and attempted to close it for good. The voices I had heard in my head, screaming horrific things, pleading, enthralling, and underneath it all the blood curling screams of those lost in the Fade, playthings for demons and worse.

The Breach was a festering cut, it tore the Veil open, it made me feel disjointed like I was both here and on the other side at the same time. It stole my breath and made my heart thunder in my ears. I felt the same way with lesser Rifts, but not as strongly, not as if I could lose myself to them in the blink of an eye.

I was terrified and I could not tell anyone, because if the one person these people thought would protect them, admitted to fear... what did they have left then?

I felt the burden of responsibility weight down like a mountain on my shoulders and silently prayed it was true what they said of me, that I didn't bear the Mark because of a freak accident, but to reflect the will of the Maker, who had stretched his hand out to shelter us in this time of need.

I prayed I was the Herald, because the alternative was terrifying.

A sudden commotion near our Spymaster's tent drew my attention back to my surroundings. One of her people, her "eyes and ears" as she liked to call them, was reporting back to her, and even though I was far enough that I could not hear what was said over the din of the camps, I could tell by her furrowed brow and the hardening of her mouth, that it was not good news.

"I think," I said, pushing up from the table, my eyes fixed on the exchange, "whatever they are saying, I ought to hear too."

"Yes," Varric agreed slowly, "it does look like Red is ready to chew through nails."

I left him behind as I circled around one of the fires and approached the tent, keeping the flames and the smoke between me and its occupants. Leliana may have been a Master Bard, but I did have a few tricks up my sleeves and I certainly knew how to make myself inconspicuous.

The Spymaster and her agent were so engrossed in conversation that both failed to notice me as I drew within earshot. As I leaned against one of the tent's posts, I could tell that Leliana was distressed. And, oh, so angry.

Her blue eyes were hard chips of ice as she listened to the scout's report and the poor sod was keeping her own gaze firmly planted on the bard's boots as she relayed the information she had gathered.

Can't really blame her, I mused in sympathy, I would not want to be glared at so fiercely either. I had heard people called Leliana, Sister Nightingale, but in that moment she looked to me more like an hawk, ready to swoop down on prey, and the huddling scout, a mouse.

I only caught the tail end of the report, but enough to understand that one of her people had played double agent, for whom I could not fathom, although the Inquisition had made plenty of enemies in such a short time and by association I had too.

So many knives in the dark. I closed my eyes for a moment and inwardly sighed. The constant scheming, the backstabbing, the not-so-veiled threats, seemed all too familiar to what had estranged me from my own kin. The Trevelyan were not as skilled in the Game as the basest of the Orlesian nobles, but they did love their intrigues well enough.

"You know what must be done," Leliana's usually soft Orlesian accent had hardened to a razor sharp edge "make it quick, painless if you can."

Her words, as cold as the wind howling through the camp, snapped me out of unpleasant memories and I stepped forward.

"What is going on here?"

Leliana rounded on me and I experienced the full force of her anger first hand. Yep, should have kept my mouth shut.

"He murdered my agent," she spat, fury sharpening every word, "endangered my men!"

"And so you'd kill him, just like that?" I stepped forward myself, my tone equally challenging, my fists clenching. Why am I so angry?, part of me wondered. I do not know this man, or the one he killed. I should not care and yet... "You'd repay him with the same coin? What makes you any better then?"

I could tell, as soon as those words left my mouth, that I had struck a nerve and I regretted my hastiness. I wanted to understand this woman, not hurt her, and yet I felt as if she was hardening herself against her nature, as if she had put on a mask and was unable now to show what lay underneath, if she even remembered at all. And so I challenged her on a decision that by any means should have not concerned me. I didn't rule here, I was but a means to an end, a key to fit into the Breach, to close it and then be forgotten when the deed was done.

I moved, putting her agent between me and her, to try and keep her off balance. Maybe the mask would slip and I would get a glimpse of the Leliana she was, not the one she acted.

"You disapprove of my decision," the faltering was already gone, her composure outwardly regained but belied by the blue fire burning in her eyes. Her remark, half statement, half question held a note of curiosity.

"You propose murder," I countered, her scout trying to become invisible as she was caught between our warring glares, "are you going to solve all of our problems at knife's edge?"

"I do what must be done," her jaw clenched, she strode past her agent, and stopped so close to me I could have reached out and, and...

And, what exactly Leandra?

"I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this," she went on, her voice steel. I shook my head unwilling or unable to concede any ground to her argument.

"This is precisely the time for ideals!" My words were snarled more than spoken, "if not now that we walk on the edge of destruction then when?" I had moved again, pacing around her tent to vent part of my ire. "We are supposed to be righteous, but just! If we pursue our ends through evil means, how long will it take it to corrupt what we stand for?" I slammed my fist on her desk, hard. "I will not have it!"

I rested my hand, palm down on the table to keep it from shaking and again felt the Mark throb harshly, digging into my flesh. For a moment, what remained of the Breach seemed to loom closer, overbearingly so, as my temples were sized by crushing agony and my vision swam. There were two Lelianas in the tent with me then, and the whispers from the Fade became louder, tearing at my consciousness.

The red haired woman moved closer, our quarrel forgotten as she laid a hand on my arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice softer, "you look... pale."

They can't know! Frantically I tried to push away the queasiness and in doing so I took a step back, jerking my arm away. Was it hurt that flashed through her face for a second?

Hasty. Always so hasty, Leandra.

I swallowed, my mouth dry and my tongue thick as if coated by sand.

"I am fine." I lied, not daring to meet her gaze again, for surely she would know that I wasn't telling the truth at all.

"You..." she stopped for a moment, frowning as if unsure how to continue, " you feel very strongly about this." She sighed wearily, her shoulders stooped as if the argument had drained her, "I will think of another way to deal with this man."

She turned to the scout then, her tone commanding again. "Apprehend Butler, but see he is...unharmed."

The scout bowed, a tad too hurriedly, and I could tell she was relieved to be away from the two of us.

"I have bothered you long enough Leliana." The dizziness receding, I didn't want to trip over my own tongue all over again and start another argument. If I had learned anything from our exchange, it was that we were both extremely stubborn. "I will leave you to your work."

"As you say," she nodded graciously, "we'll have time to talk later."

I retreated then, briskly walking away from her tent and the Chantry, my hand throbbing with every step, a stark reminder that our problems were far from solved. As I left, my mind already full of Mages and Templars and the choice we would have to make soon, I failed to notice Leliana was watching me go, speculation and worry mixing on her face.