Bethany nearly didn't notice her. The Chantry sister was bathed in shadow, a smudge of orange and cream beneath the tree in the Chantry courtyard.
"Sister!" said Bethany urgently. "Sister, what are you doing? The darkspawn are coming! You should get inside the Chantry with the others!"
The sister looked up from her reverie and Bethany recognised her: it was Sister Leliana. She seemed to have been staring at a rosebush, where a single rose bloomed incongruously against a mass of dried up brown branches covered in thorns.
"What use is there?" said Leliana. She had a sweet voice, even laden as it was now with sorrow. Bethany had used to sneak into the Chantry to hear her tell stories, and did not like to see her so sad. "The Maker gave me a task and I have failed in it. If I am to die, I would rather it be out here surrounded by flowers than in some crowded building surrounded by fear."
Bethany was going to protest, but had to admit that what she said made a certain amount of sense. Carver and Marian had gotten their fill of darkspawn at Ostagar, and had seemed quite certain that anyone remaining in Lothering was doomed, whether they hid inside or not. But she couldn't just leave this woman here to die.
"Then…do neither," she said quickly, before she had a chance to think better of it. "Come with my family and me and escape. My brother and sister are soldiers, and I'm…" Was it unsafe to admit to her magic even now? The habits of a lifetime won out. "I'm not as useless as I look. Surely the Maker would not wish you to throw your life away unnecessarily."
Sister Leliana looked at Bethany in surprise and stared at her for a long moment. "Yes," she said, her expression lightening. "If you are willing to let me come then I will follow you. Perhaps this is the Maker's will. And I am not as useless as I look either." She smiled, and Bethany had the rather shallow thought that it would be nice to have someone to look at other than her family during the trip, especially someone so pretty.
"Oh, I am glad to hear it!" said Bethany. "My name is Bethany Hawke, I'll introduce you to my mother and Carver and Marian when we meet up with them." Assuming they didn't get angry at Bethany for being so impractical and refuse to let the sister come along. But surely they would take pity on a woman of the Chant. "Um…but do you need to grab anything? We're leaving very soon, I was just looking for supplies." Bethany held up the sack she was carrying and gave a weak smile. "I hope you like turnips, because that's all I could find."
"Yes, I remember you, Bethany, " said Sister Leliana. "You used to help mind the children while I told them silly stories from Orlais." She stood up and dusted off her robes, revealing the bag that she'd been using a cushion while she rested against the tree. "I have been ready to leave for some time," she said, "although this is not quite how I imagined I would be leaving. Let us go and meet this family of yours."
All around her was darkness, a heavy bank of clouds blocked out the stars so that sea and sky were an indistinguishable mass of black and grey. Leliana shivered, and wondered how far they were from Ferelden.
She was not alone on the deck of the ship. Other refugees had similarly escaped the cramped quarters below decks to take some fresh air while the sea was calm, and all around them sailors climbed the ropes and watched the horizon, calling to each other in their own secret language of halyards and gudgins. She was not alone, but still Leliana felt lonely. Bethany had fallen ill, and her family had closed ranks, taking turns to keep watch against those in the crowd of desperate refugees who might see an unconscious woman as an opportunity for theft or worse. Leliana had offered to help, but the eldest Hawke girl didn't trust her, having grown up among apostates she clearly saw anyone associated with the Chantry as a threat. This hurt, but Leliana understood. She felt protective towards Bethany herself, she was a sweet girl, and it would be a tragedy for her to escape the darkspawn only to fall during the journey to safety.
Leliana was jostled from her thoughts by the elbow of a passing sailor.
"Watch it," he said absently, readjusting the box that was filling his arms and blocking his vision.
"I'm sorry," said Leliana. "I'll get out of the way."
The sailor stopped. "Orlesian, are you?" he said in a much more unfriendly tone. "Yeah, that figures. Rats always know when to jump a sinking ship. Just watch you don't get et by sharks."
"I will try to remember that," she said. He snorted to himself and kept walking.
Leliana moved to a more out of the way part of the deck and started singing to herself under her breath:
Il était un petit navire
Il était un petit navire
Qui n'avait ja-ja-jamais navigué
Qui n'avait ja-ja-jamais…
She heard the boards creak behind her.
"I haven't heard that song in a long time," said a voice. "And it's a rather morbid choice under the circumstances. I know supplies are limited but I don't think we're quite at the point of eating each other."
Leliana turned to smile at Aveline. "Ah, but it's not morbid at all! The sailors don't actually eat the boy, after all, he is saved by a vision of Andraste."
"I suppose that's true," said Aveline. "But that ending always seemed unbelievable to me when I was a child. Then again, now that I've been saved by a dragon anything seems possible." She moved the stand next to Leliana, looking out with her into the night.
Leliana had never entirely clicked with Aveline, she was a decent, honourable woman but the two of them had very little in common. She appreciated Aveline making the effort to be friendly.
"Very true! The Maker always sends us what we need, but sometimes his choices are surprising."
"Always?" asked Aveline, her voice rough. "Tell that to Wesley. Or that boy Carver." Drat. Leliana had not meant to remind Aveline of the still fresh wound of Wesley's death. She wanted to say something comforting but decided the best approach was to stay silent.
The noises of the ship filled the void between them, muffled conversations overlaying the constant creak of wooden boards and the splash of the waves far below. A cool breeze was blowing, the smell of the salt air now as familiar to Leliana as breathing. She was reminded of her last long sea voyage, when she had escaped to Ferelden two years ago. She had been truly alone then, and in some ways it had been easier.
"Do you miss it?" asked Aveline.
"Do I miss…" Being alone? Was she that obvious?
"Orlais. My father did, until his dying day. Meanwhile I never intended to even get as close as Amaranthine, let alone Kirkwall. Nothing he said ever made it sound at all appealing."
"Oh, Orlais! Yes, I miss it sometimes. After all, it is where I was born and grew up. I miss the clothes, the music…But I was happy in Ferelden too. If it wasn't for for the Blight I think I might have stayed in Lothering until I was old and grey, singing strange folk songs to the little children in the Chantry and trying not to get bitten by dogs."
"But what about now? Are you going to go back?"
"No," said Leliana. "As much as part of me would love to…that part of my life is over." Even if she didn't feel able to tell Aveline why. "It's time to start a new life in a new city." Again. Well, it had turned out alright the first time, the Maker would provide, she was sure of it. "I…I hear they have wonderful shoes in Kirkwall. Not as pretty as the ones in Orlais, of course, but very nice."
"Oh, no, nothing is ever as pretty as the finery in Orlais," said Aveline with heavy irony.
Leliana laughed. "I'm sorry, we Orlesians can be a little arrogant, no?"
"Just a little," said Aveline. "But we Fereldans know you can't help it. All that fine food goes to your head."
"Oh is that our problem?" said Leliana. "I had always wondered." She smiled up at Aveline. Aveline was smiling too, hopefully Leliana hadn't offended her too terribly before. Then Aveline twisted up her nose in disgust. Before Leliana could wonder what she'd done to offend her, she was distracted by a sharp shock of cold on her hand where it gripped the railing.
"Eee!" she squealed. "It's raining!" It was hard enough keeping warm and dry on this ship without letting herself get soaked.
"Let's continue this discussion later!" said Aveline, walking quickly towards the hatch.
"Absolutely," said Leliana. "Maybe I can convince you that Orlais isn't so bad after all."
"Stranger things have happened!"
Author note: Leliana is singing the French folk song Il était un petit navire, about a boy who is nearly eaten by sailors then gets saved by the Virgin Mary. I spent some time looking for French songs about boats or oceans that wouldn't be too anachronistic, and I decided I liked this one best.