Authors note: Written in a kinda sorta liner fashion.


When the pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king

What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight

And he'll win the whole thing 'fore he enters the ring

There's no body to batter when your mind is your might

So when you go solo, you hold your own hand

And remember that depth is the greatest of heights

And if you know where you stand, then you know where to land

And if you fall it won't matter, cause you'll know that you're right

- Fiona Apple, When the Pawn

"I have a strange question for you, young Champion; do you ever feel like you're being manipulated? By something beyond your control or ken?"

"Milady, I believe I'm in the rather unique position of being absolutely certain that I am."

- recorded from a conversation between Ferelden Commander of the Gray Mior Andras and Alessa Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall.


The Warden-Commander had disappeared.

Alistair's sorrowful words echoed in Leliana's mind. She had only met Mior Andras a couple of times but she agreed with the king's firm assurance she wouldn't have just walked away without a word, not even if she was answering the Calling. There was no indication from any of her Gray Wardens that she was starting to be pulled by the call, either. She hadn't packed, the only thing missing from her rooms was her sword. The legendary Starfang and the legend that wielded it, however, were gone without a trace.

Leliana glanced at a particularly decrepit mansion as she walked through the eerily quiet streets of Hightown, wondering what had happened to it. All of Kirkwall was eerily silent, as if everyone was holding their breath, afraid of drawing attention. It wouldn't last. The chaos that was whirling through the entire land had started here. Pretty soon either mages or templars would clash together and the people of Kirkwall...the ones who hadn't fled anyway...would tremble and hope they'd live it out.

The estate she turned into was in much better condition than the one down the street, but it clearly hadn't been lived in for a while. Leliana paused at the gates and cocked her head curiously. The guard-house at the edge had been converted into some kind of...shop? This had to be where the little dwarf serving the Empress had worked out of. His father had said they'd lived here.

She continued down the path. The two Seekers standing guard at the door nodded to her and she nodded back, continuing past them. One of them pointed her silently toward where Cassandra had gone, but it was a male voice she heard as she approached. She guessed that had to be the dwarf Cassandra had been looking for.

Leliana was in no hurry to give her the news about the Warden-Commander, which wasn't going to brighten her mood at all, so she made no attempt to distract Cassandra from her interrogation. After a few minutes of listening to the dwarf talk, she came to the conclusion that he'd probably do well not to exaggerate too much if he wanted to keep from provoking Cassandra and her fellow Seeker would do well to make sure he understood they meant no harm to Alessa Hawke, because he would never betray her.

A wistful smile tugged her lips as she moved into the depths of the estate. That easy tone of a natural storyteller...she couldn't blame the dwarf for adding a bit of creative touch here and there. Didn't she do the same thing whenever she told stories about Malaina?

Not that stories about her needed it. Malaina Surana had been described as nearly everything over the years since her death, and not all of it complimentary. She'd been everything a hero shouldn't have been, after all. A Gray Warden, a blood mage, a half breed, for the Maker's sake. An elven mage Aisha Surana may have been, but to this day Leliana refused to believe the rumors the woman had become an abomination with her daughter still in her womb. Even if Malaina believed it. Even if she'd sometimes seen something dark and feral deep within her friend's eyes. Even if those eyes were focused on something only Malaina could see more often than not.

But most of all, especially to the people of Ferelden, she was the woman who had moved to give them their great king...and then given her life to save them all.

And to Leliana she was, and always would be, her friend. And she wished- oh, how she wished -that she was here now.

Granted, Malaina had been excellent at causing chaos rather than calming it. Certainly she'd been good at taking the expectations of an entire country and flipping it on its head without so much as batting an eye.

Much like Hawke, by all accounts.

Since her own search had come to a standstill, Leliana wandered through the Hawke Estate silently to see what she could gather for Cassandra. Where a person lived told you so much about them.

She stepped into a large room where someone had lit a brazier and used a torch to light the others in the room, along with an elaborate candelabra set in the middle of a large table. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the library.

She'd heard the Champion had been quite the scholar, but...

Books were crammed into every shelf to the utmost capacity, piled on top of them and in front of them, scattered across the table, sitting in the window-seat. She ran her fingers along the spines of some of them. There were novels, yes...she noted with amusement that she had a copy of every single book her dwarf friend had published. There were lots of treatises from the University of Orlais. No surprise there, she'd accompanied the Grand Cleric to Val Royeaux when she'd first become Champion...she'd even engaged the Empress in conversation...and Cassandra had mentioned she had a great deal of contact with people from the University since then. Most of them seemed centered on mathematics, medicine, and archeology. There was, however, a special place for the ones describing the more controversial topics like astronomy and physics, new medical techniques, pathology...she had to look that one up before she remembered it, it was the study of the dead...and published works from archeologists discovering ruins that were supposed to have been built long before the accepted lines of history. Several from that traveling scholar- she couldn't remember his name -and his studies on how animals varied from place to place depending on their environment. On and on over a vast variety of subjects.

She spent a lot of time here, Leliana thought. She saw personal touches everywhere. There were notes and letters scattered about, set in neat piles. Star maps, scrolls filled with lines of complicated number problems, a copy of a human skeleton made of wood hanging in the corner.

She paused at the fireplace, grinning. There was a rather austere statue at the mantel. It might have been frightening except someone had glued what looked like dog hair onto it to make a bushy mustache.

Hidden in the back drawer of a small desk, she found papers with letters and words written on it, the same ones over and over, starting out almost childish and scrawled and slowly becoming neater as she flipped through them. A small smile tugged her lips as she realized what it was. She was teaching someone to write. She wondered who. The little dwarf maybe?

She wandered around a bit before heading for the doors that would take her to the garden. The night was cool as she stepped outside, quiet except for the rustling of the wind through leaves and the trickle from a small fountain made of natural stone in the center. It had been well kept, but it was starting to overgrow. It was an odd mix of neat beds and wildflowers that had been allowed to grow freely. Statues and pieces of white stone set half hidden amongst the plants gave it a mysterious feel. She squinted, just able to make out an herb garden in the corner and near that was a small building separate from the rest of the estate.

Frowning, Leliana started toward it when a flash of white caught her eye. A piece of paper had been caught in the door. She picked it up and smoothed it out, leaning back inside so she could use the light.

Fenris,

Varric assures me he won't let this get intercepted, which is good, you know I'm no good with cryptic words. The Templars that arrived a few weeks ago have taken over. If Cullen is still in command, it won't be for long. They've taken over the guard. I had their leader come in and ask me a lot of pointed questions about how close Hawke was to her sister. I guess I should have seen it coming, with all the talk about 'Parthalan's Heir'. The official story that they are going with is she sided with the mages and helped Anders in order to overthrow Meredith. I'll give Cullen credit for trying to say that's not exactly how it happened but they aren't listening.

Varric has gone underground, Merril is sailing out with Isabela and so are Donnic and I, along with several of the guard. We are heading to Ferelden, since by all accounts King Alistair is managing to keep things calmer than they are elsewhere, maybe because their Circle isn't directly under the Templar's control. Isabela offered to take us but she won't wait more than a week, they are already starting to shut the Docks down and it is likely even at this point there will be a fight when she sets sail, whether any of us are on it or not. We're planning to sail out in two days, at eventide.

Get her out, Fenris. I doubt she will need much convincing now, especially from you. She's always listened to you. Use that. Use this letter. Use anything, but get her out.

I hope to see you two at the docks.

Aveline

Cassandra would definitely want to see this. Leliana tucked it into her belt and continued out into the garden, lighting a torch from one of the braziers.

The small building turned out to be a family chapel. There was a second herb garden on its other side. Leliana paused, frowning. The door was open, swinging softly in the breeze.

There was a burn mark on it. As if something burning had hit the center of the door, making a black star shape.

She stepped inside and stared. The pews had been pushed off to the side and the alter had been turned into a mad workshop of jars, bowls, mortar and pestles, thin glass tubes hung over a bowl with a candle in it and a variety of bizarre contraptions and notes she didn't have a hope of interpreting. An overturned stool stood at each end. Burn marks dotted the ceiling and there was a hole in one of the stained glass windows that let a shaft of moonlight slice through the length of the room. The wall behind the alter was covered in more mixed up lines of numbers. A large brazier stood off to the side with a small cauldron suspended over it on a hook.

The library had been the warm den of a dedicated scholar, but this...this was the den of a madwoman. And in the chapel! In a way it would have been easier if she'd deliberately desecrated the place, but it was more like she simply hadn't cared that it was supposed to be holy. The careless treatment of what must have been a beautiful chapel once was...very disturbing.

Approaching the alter eased her a little bit. Most of it was dedicated to making potions and salves, bandages and other things for healing. But on the other side, she saw residue of things that she knew beyond a doubt were poisons. She was also fairly certain a couple of things she saw were some kind of explosive, which would explain the burn marks everywhere.

It caught her eye because it was centered exactly in the middle of all the clutter, everything around it pushed slightly away. A small leather bound book. A flutter of excitement went through her as she picked it up. A journal. Hawke's journal. She flipped through it slowly. There were lots of notes and formulas for creating poisons, healing potions, explosives and traps, and more scribbled numbers. There were also little notes of reminder: 'Sneak in and restock Anders's shelves tonight.', 'Tell Aveline about the secret passage into Banyard's estate. Also, give Donnic his cards back.', 'The Demon Went Down to Antiva- Varric has GOT to hear this one.', 'Get a copy of that new book by Kalle for Fenris.', 'Remember AGAIN to give Merril and Orana those flower cuttings like you promised, stupid.', 'Isabela, if you are reading this, that powder I put in the drawer around it is going to make you very itchy and not in a fun way. Haha.'

There were very few full length entries, most of it was jotted notes or thoughts. The longest entry was the last one, dated not long before Hawke had supposedly fled the city:

They burned the museum down. Several of the instructors were still in the building but they didn't care. Amalthia was one of them, and Kara, and Malin. Haze and Zek escaped, they sent me a note saying they were fleeing back to Orlais and they were okay. I hope they make it. Aveline told me it started a huge riot and several templars were killed, but they killed a lot more Lowtown people.

They burned the museum down. I'm writing it for the second time and I still cannot believe it. I want to believe that it's because it offended their religious sensibilities. I want to believe it's because they disapprove of commoners getting the same kind of education as nobles. But I don't think so. At least that wasn't their main reason. Neither does Aveline. They burned it down because it had so many ties to me.

It wasn't a big place. The world isn't going to feel much loss because of it. But it was important to us. They burned down all the classrooms and killed some of the teachers. They burned down the library. All the music, all the books, history, art, artifacts and discoveries and notes some of the students and scholars were working on that might be lost to the world forever now. They destroyed all of it. And felt righteous in doing it, I bet.

Leliana ran her fingers lightly over several large spots that stained the ink. Tears.

Fenris says it isn't my fault, that they wanted to get rid of it because it was a symbol of everything that is changing. I guess he's right, I would much rather believe that than believe they would do it just because it meant so much to me. But he agrees with Aveline and I cannot argue it anymore. My presence is causing more harm than good now.

I'm so angry. I want to blame Anders. DAMN him. But it isn't him. Flemeth was right. The Warden-Commander told me too. It is change. And all this is only the beginning.

Then, scrawled hastily at the bottom of the page:

The Gray Lady came to me in my dreams again last night. When I woke up I found a letter on the desk that I don't remember writing. Well, she did apologize for that. It is not for me so I did not read it, I will leave it here. Under the journal. She says the person it is addressed to will find it.

If you are reading this, Sister Nightingale...that letter is for you.

Even before the last line, Leliana's hands were trembling.

The Gray Lady came to me in my dreams again last night.

It couldn't be. It could not be.

She put the journal down and stared, her breath catching when she saw an envelope on the alter, took in the name scrawled in graceful script across the front.

Leliana


It took her a while to build up the courage to pick the letter up. She took it and the journal back to the library, unable to stand that dark, strange chapel anymore.

It had been easy to dismiss the rumors and tales she had heard of a beautiful ghost they called The Gray Lady, even if the descriptions of her were eerily accurate...

But when she'd visited Alistair to learn more about Mior's disappearance, he'd asked her a strange question.

"Have you...seen her too, Leliana?"

"Who?"

"Malaina."

"Malaina is dead, Alistair. She's with the Maker."

"And yet, I've seen and heard her. So has Mior."

She had pushed the conversation into the back of her mind. But then she'd come across Zevran in her travels and he had asked her if she'd seen Malaina. He'd been reluctant to go into any more detail and had simply accepted it when she had said no.

Even then she'd tried to push it out of her mind. The fact those questions had come from the two men in the world who desperately wanted Malaina back more than anything- one who had loved her like a sister and another who had loved her despite his efforts not to -made it easier to dismiss it as wishful thinking.

But Hawke...there was no connection between Hawke and Malaina. She could think of no reasonable explanation why this letter in her hand had been in that chapel, that Hawke would have left it for her. Not even as a cruel joke.

She sat down in a chair, staring at the letter for a long time.

It could not be.

She could still hear the dwarf speaking faintly but it was a hum in the background as she finally opened the envelope and pulled out the pieces of paper within it. The words at the top of the first page stripped away any doubt she could possibly have had.

A thousand eyes within the night

And each a different view

Each different mind each different sight

Each eye sees something new

Leliana closed her eyes against a sting of tears. A simple little poem she'd coaxed and helped Malaina write one night over drinks. Malaina had been possessed of a decent singing voice but no artistic ability whatsoever. She did, however, have a great appreciation for poems and songs.

She had been embarrassed, had almost torn it up before Leliana had taken it away. Malaina had only given in to letting her keep it on the strict promise she would never show it to anyone else. She still had that paper, tucked away in a keepsake box. And she'd kept that promise. Zevran, Alistair, and Oghren had all pestered her endlessly but not a one of them had never gotten a hold of it. It had become special, something just between friends.

There was no way Hawke could have known it...unless Malaina had guided her hand.

Dear Leliana,

Please forgive me for not seeking you out. It takes a lot out of me and I used the last of my current strength to see Zevran. I hope you can understand why. I've had to pull back into the Fade for now. To watch. And prepare as best I can.

I wish I could tell you, dear one, that I'm writing this because I have answers for you. What I see, what I've always seen, has always been vague. Isn't that always the way? All I know is you will come to Kirkwall looking for Hawke, that she...and Kirkwall...will be where everything will ignite.

No, I have not possessed our little troublemaker. Hawke is no abomination. She's just an extremely vivid dreamer, that helps. I've also been keeping an eye on her, by now I'm sure you probably understand why. Hawke and her sister, they are maelstroms. When times of great change come about, they start showing up. People that change the world simply by existing. By being who they are. I was one, Alistair is one, Mior is one. So is that testy silver ghost that holds Alessa's heart, though I doubt he's figured it out yet. And so, my dear friend, are you.

And so is Morrigan. Yes, my dark sister is still out there, far beyond the reach of you or the Chantry, at least for the moment. I'm not certain if the path she's taking is good for any of us, her most of all, but there is little anyone can do about it.

And so is Flemeth. She might be the ultimate one. I suggest you keep your eye out for both of them.

That is not the only reason I left this for you. I have always envied you your easy faith, even if I could not share it. You are faithful, but not blind, and that's a rare quality. Never doubt for a moment that they will need you. That the world needs you. No matter what happens.

I realize I'm leaving you with far more questions than answers, and I'm terribly sorry.

Be safe, sweet Leliana. I leave you with, perhaps, a slight addition to the no doubt extremely entertaining tale the dwarf is going to be putting out. Just a simple truth. And a warning.

It starts...and ends...with the wind.

Malaina


Author's Note II: I've taken quite a few liberties with the layout of the Hawke Estate. Er, call it artistic license...yea *shifty eyes*