The broad streets and tall buildings, the verdant trees heavy with flowers, even the impossibly wide blue sky. And the smells! Fresh bread, and strange spices, and herbs whose familiar scent made Cassandra's heart twist in bittersweet memory.
What was that smell? It was like pure essence of green, and might have been pleasant in a garden, or as a slight undertone to a perfume. But Cassandra felt like she was drowning in it, the sharp scent seemed to be coming from everywhere and made Cassandra's crusted eyes water and her dry throat itch. She moved her hand to wipe her eyes and suddenly the smell was the least of her problems. Everything hurt. Her shoulder felt like it had been wrenched from its socket, her chest felt like it had caved in…even crying out in pain caused more agony, her throat was as dry as paper. Was this what dying felt like? She had vague memories of confronting Lucius— had he defeated her then? It would be her own fault for being reckless if he had. She let out a low groan and wished for the relief of unconsciousness.
"Oh! Oh you poor thing." An unfamiliar voice with a slight accent and then a cup of something cool and bitter held to her lips. It tasted foul, and made her tongue tingle, but by the time the woman had wiped Cassandra's eyes and helped her sit more comfortably the pain had lessened enough for her to take in her surroundings. She was in a bed in a small cottage, and had multiple injuries. Putting her hand carefully to her chest she felt bandages and what felt like a poultice. That would explain the smell. Facing her was a red headed woman wearing a plain dress and a smile.
Cassandra tried to speak but could only cough. The woman offered Cassandra another drink.
"I am Leliana. I found you injured in the forest, so brought you to my house." Cassandra blinked at her. Leliana smiled. "To be quite honest, I thought you a lost cause, but you have healed remarkably well. You should be right as rain in a few weeks." She patted Cassandra gently on the arm. "Just lie in bed and I will take care of everything."
"A few…!" Cassandra coughed and reached for another drink. Leliana held up the cup and Cassandra tried not to let her hands shake too much as she took it. "I thank you for your help, Leliana, but I must return to my troops immediately. They should not be stationed far from here." The army had been trading blows with the enemy for weeks without significant territory changing hands, there was no reason to think the situation would have altered significantly while Cassandra was out of the fray. She wondered how Jessica was coping with her new responsibility as temporary Commander, and how the Seekers were handling a second change of leadership in as many months. She could almost hear the older veterans' grumpy mutterings about Jessica's youth, they'd been crotchety enough about Cassandra.
Leliana's face fell. "I am afraid…"
Cassandra's cheerful imaginings evaporated. "Tell me they are not all dead!" So many had already died, surely God would not take the few who remained.
"No! At least, I hope for your sake that they are not! But the Merigny army retreated a week ago. Cybelion controls all the land between here and Metz."
Cassandra let out a sound of frustration, unable to muster enough strength to put her feelings into words. For them to have retreated…things must have gone very badly indeed. And now she was trapped in enemy territory, injured and alone.
"Do not worry! When you are well I will lend you clothes and supplies, and you will return home to your friends." Leliana's attitude was remarkably cheery considering the circumstances. Her optimism was commendable, but Cassandra could not find it in herself to see things in such a sunny light.
"You will not come with me? Surely you are in as much danger from the Cybelians as I am."
"Perhaps I should wipe your eyes again," said Leliana, with a wry smile. Cassandra blinked at her and then noticed the large pendant hanging on her chest. It was a familiar design: a woman with the head of a raven. Cassandra had seen many such pendants, although usually the people wearing them were dead, or soon to become so. Just looking at it made her stomach twist with nausea at it's inherent wrongness.
She was in the house of the enemy.
It was market day, and Cassandra's progress through the city was slow. It was maddening to have to dawdle when she was finally so close to her journey's end. She clicked her tongue impatiently as the trader in front of her unloaded his caravan, blocking the road. He was Dwerga, if his short stocky figure and the banner proclaiming "Fine Dwerga Crafts! Direct from Dwerg!" was any guide. A sign that times had changed: until recently, the Church of Cybele had considered it impious to openly celebrate any 'pagan ancestry'. But now there were stalls selling Vehn religious figures and Chanter beads in amongst the cabbages and carrots, and no one seemed to care.
For the most part, the people of Clere could be from any city in Merigny: milling pedestrians, commoners and nobles, merchants and soldiers. A little darker, a little taller, but otherwise much the same. And why should that be surprising? Merigny and Cybelion had been part of the same country a few centuries ago. Every now and then she would sense the faint prickle of a distant spell being cast, but that wasn't much different to Merigny either, these days.
Just as the trader was finally done unloading, Cassandra heard a small, high voice coming from below.
"Is that your horse? What's its name? Can I pet it?"
Cassandra looked down and saw a small child holding the hand of their mother, staring at Cassandra's horse with eyes wide with awe. She was reminded of her little cousin Hugo. Except that this child was no noble, and likely did not get many chances to directly interact with horses. Also, this child was alive.
"Her name is Chestnut. You may stroke her a little, if you are gentle." Cassandra had bought Chestnut in one of the border towns, and intended to sell her on the way back, but she seemed the sort of staid horse who could handle a little pawing.
The child nodded seriously and reached out to softly place one hand on Chestnut's leg. "She's smooth!"
The child's mother laughed. "Say thank you, Ange. We should let the nice lady…" She smiled up at Cassandra and then stopped as her eyes hit Cassandra's chest, and noticed the design upon it. She looked at Cassandra more seriously then. Cassandra returned the look with an awkward attempt at a smile. Perhaps she should not have put on her uniform just yet. The mother nodded, but did not smile back. "We should let the nice lady continue her journey."
Ange waved at Cassandra. "Thank you nice lady! Thank you Chestnut! Have a nice journey."
Cassandra waved goodbye. She heard the mother whisper under her breath "Goddess speed you on your way." It sounded more like a ward against evil than a benediction.
Leliana had leaned forward in her chair, the motions of her fingers painting an imaginary picture in the air. "Even the streets sparkle in the sunshine, like you are walking on a river of white water. And as day turns to night, the walls of the city reflect the sunset in every shade of orange and pink."
Cassandra felt a pang of homesickness for a city she had never visited. It was a testament to Leliana's skill as a storyteller that she could make Cassandra think fondly of the Goddess's own city, where a Chanter like Cassandra would be killed on sight. As to why Cassandra was thinking fondly of Leliana herself after only a few days acquaintance…well. Who would not be grateful for having their life saved, and wounds tended? And Leliana had been a friendly, engaging, and generous host. Remembering what she was, and who she worshipped, still made Cassandra uncomfortable, but mostly because it meant they could never truly be friends.
"You make Clere sound like a heavenly citadel in the clouds. Are you sure it is not merely the nostalgia of childhood speaking?" The few stories Leliana told of her life after she left Clere tended to be much more cynical.
Leliana gave a sad smile. "Oh, I remember the awful parts quite clearly. But they do not make for a very pleasant bedtime story."
Cassandra forced herself to sit up in bed, despite the pain it caused to her healing wounds. It was worth it to be able to stare down at the shorter woman in the chair opposite her. "I am not a child, Leliana. And I am curious. I know so little of Cybelion. I would like to understand your people as they truly are."
"You have set me an impossible task, then," said Leliana. "Can any of us truly understand each other? I can only tell you stories."
"Tell me a story, then." Cassandra made herself comfortable again. Despite her injuries, and the instability of her situation, it was not hard to feel at ease in the cosy, quilt covered bed in the corner of Leliana's snug little cottage. It helped knowing that the nearest village— and it's Cybelian citizenry— was a day's journey away.
"A story of Clere, let me think… Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Do you know how Clere became the Goddess's city?"
"I know she was born there, but nothing beyond that." Cassandra knew very little of Cybelianism's centuries long spread that was not Chantry propaganda. And while she found it impossible to imagine why anyone would choose to worship such a vicious upstart of a deity, she had to assume it was not actually the result of pure wickedness.
"It is not a pretty story, but it is a true one, as far as I know." Leliana's fingers absently rubbed the pendant around her neck. "The Goddess was born a slave, you know. Some say this is why so much of the city burned…"
The slow pace forced on her by the milling crowd did at least give Cassandra a chance to admire the architecture of the city. Tall buildings of white stone sparkled in the bright sunlight, the smooth pale blocks edged with golden filigree. Even the cobblestones were the same pale stone, though made grey by layers of mud and filth. Not quite as perfect as in Leliana's stories, but beautiful all the same.
She might have appreciated that beauty more if she hadn't been sent here as a prisoner.
Sorry, no, an honoured guest, invited by Divine Victoria herself, most holy ruler of the Church of Cybele. It had been a very pretty letter, praising Cassandra's history of service and eliding the fact that this service had largely been spent opposing the Church. It might not be a trap. Just because most other Merigny military leaders 'invited' to Cybelion had been sentenced to death for war crimes did not necessarily mean that the same thing would happen to Cassandra. She would have refused to go, but while the Divine had little direct power outside Cybelion, the government of Merigny took her requests very seriously. It had been difficult enough to even gain permission to travel here alone.
Divine Victoria had acquired much of her bloodthirsty reputation while working for the previous Divine, as the spy known only as Sister Nightingale. Now that she was Divine, Victoria's only real demand from other lands was freedom of worship for followers of Cybele. Few could argue with that, especially since she had pushed just as hard for freedom of worship in Cybelion.
Few, but not none.
There was hardly anyone left alive in Merigny who had not lost family to Cybelian war mages, or in religious purges of occupied towns. Cassandra was no different, and it hurt to see the shattered buildings of her homeland torn down, and Cybelian churches built in their place. The fact that the Church of Cybele was now willing to tolerate those who worshipped other gods did not erase the memories of a time when such "heretics" had been burned at the stake, and Cassandra had some sympathy for those unable to let go of past grievances.
Divine Victoria felt no such sympathy: to attack a worshipper of Cybele was to be punished in kind, and it was known that anyone who plotted against her tended to vanish, regardless of nationality or faith. There were even rumours that as Sister Nightingale she had been responsible for the death of Merigny's previous queen, believing—correctly— that her successor would be more amenable to peace. More shockingly, it was rumoured that Sister Nightingale had assassinated members of her own Church for the same reason.
What did such a woman want with Cassandra?
Cassandra was no war criminal: she had certainly killed plenty of Cybelians during the war, but she liked to think that she had not been unnecessarily cruel or bloodthirsty.
She was no diplomat either, and barely counted as a political leader these days. She was no one, a relic of history. Perhaps it would be fitting, then, if she found her end here on enemy soil. She did not welcome death, but the idea did not fill her with the dread it once had.
"Do you truly not hate me?"
The subtle tension on Cassandra's scalp lessened. "Hate you? If this is what you think hatred looks like, Cassandra, I find myself wondering what you must expect of your friends."
Cassandra felt herself blushing. "Leliana! I am of course grateful for the kindness you have shown me. I could ask no more of anyone." She had never before found such comfort in another's company. It was strange, and a little alarming. "I only meant…I am an enemy soldier. I have killed tens— hundreds, maybe— of your people. How can you not resent me for that?"
Leliana's fingers returned to their task, picking metal beads from a plate and gently braiding them into Cassandra's hair. Normally Cassandra hated having her appearance fussed over, but Leliana had been so enthusiastic at the idea that she had been unable to say no. "Did you hate those you killed? Do you hate me, for my beliefs?"
"Of course not. I was protecting my people, but so were the soldiers I killed. It is only through the whims of fate that we were born on opposite sides, otherwise we could well have been comrades. And as for you, Leliana…" I care for you more than I know how to understand or express. "I do not hate you. While I would prefer your beliefs to be otherwise, I cannot blame for you for them."
Leliana finished the braid, pinning it in place and gently smoothing the hair around it with her fingers. For the first time in her life Cassandra wished that she had more hair to have styled. Leliana smiled at Cassandra. "And that is why I like you," she said.
Cassandra's eyes caught a flash of orange-red on someone's head and she nearly lost her hold on Chestnut. She looked again and it was only a woman in a brightly coloured scarf. She cursed herself for being irrational. Why did she keep expecting to see Leliana around every corner? She had left Clere long before the war, there was no reason to think she would have moved back. And that was assuming she was alive at all.
What if she was dead? What if the last thing Leliana saw before she died was the white starburst of the God's Sword, emblazoned on the chest of one of Cassandra's men? Cassandra had tried to limit civilian casualties, but that had not stopped them from happening.
But such worries were foolish. Leliana's cottage had been far from any town or village, likely she was living there as happily now as she had before Cassandra had briefly stumbled into her life. She had probably forgotten all about the blunt, awkward soldier she'd looked after, all those years ago. It was just being here, in her old city, that was putting such thoughts into Cassandra's head. She regained her stable footing and rode on.
The Arch-basilica was like a mountain towering over Clere, the centre around which the city— and all of Cybelianism — revolved. It's sharp, shining towers watched over Cassandra as she made her way through the city, waited as she wound her way through the busy streets. And now she was here, standing at the spiralling golden gates that were likely all that lay between her and her destruction.
A guard took her name, his face showing his disdain for her uniform despite the politeness of his words. She ignored the sense of foreboding that followed the sound of the gates closing behind her. She took strength from the Chant. Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Cassandra had made many visits to the Grand Chantry in Rentis. The centre of her religion was a cacophony of colours and smells, statues of saints and spirits jostling for space with candles and incense, and always ringing with the sound of music. Cassandra loved the way it overwhelmed her senses in a transcendent hubbub of sensation.
By comparison, the interior of the Arch-basilica was a tomb. The internal walls were more of the same white stone that covered the outside, and nearly as free of decoration. She could smell incense, but only the faintest trace, like a song just out of hearing. As her guide led her down the long corridor from the entrance hall the only sound was their muffled footsteps on the rich black carpet lining the floor.
The small room she was left to wait in was not quite so austere. There were two soft, comfortable couches, and a prettily carved table placed between them. Shortly after Cassandra entered the room a servant came in and covered the table in trays of food and drink. Cassandra's sense of foreboding lessened a little as she nibbled at a pastry: this did not seem like the kind of treatment the Church meted out to criminals they planned to execute. A moment later she stared at the almond tart in her hand, struck by an awful thought: Was this intended as some sort of subtle mental intimidation? Look, Commander Pentaghast, we even know your favourite sweet! Sister Nightingale had been known to play all sorts of complex mind games with her enemies.
Cassandra snorted at herself for being ridiculous and ate the rest of the tart. It was very good.
As she ate, she looked at the only major decoration in the room: a portrait of a Divine, presumably the Divine Victoria. Most portraits of the Divine were essentially identical, regardless of the Divine in question, with large foreheads to signify wisdom and so forth. This was the first time Cassandra had seen a more realistic depiction. She looked younger than Cassandra had imagined, of an age with Cassandra herself. Perhaps this was just a sign that Cassandra was getting old. It was hard to tell much else about the Divine under the large head dress and heavy robes of her office, but she was paler than most people here in the North, almost as pale as Leliana had been. Cassandra wondered if the Divine, too, had ancestors from the Southern Isles. Cassandra knew very little about Victoria, having never paid much attention to Cybelian politics when it did not directly affect her. Perhaps this had been a mistake.
"The Goddess speaks to the Divine, the Divine speaks to the people, the people speak to the king."
"Do you really believe that?" Cassandra softened her question with a smile, but she had her doubts about any political system with so few distinctions between nation and church. It was, at least, a nice day to be discussing politics: butterflies flitted through the sunlight and the air was filled with the competing scents of Leliana's garden and the happy clucking of her chickens, with their ridiculous names. It felt to Cassandra like God was all around them, their touch almost palpable in the warm air.
"Of course!" Leliana smiled back, brightly, and then stabbed at the ground with her spade. "Not that everyone listens. I am quite sure that it was not the Goddess who told the Church to enslave those with magic, nor do I recall the people asking the King for such high taxes." She pulled out the weed her shovel had loosened and threw it onto the growing pile. "Even as a sister I saw so much corruption, so much prejudice…the Church of Cybele must love and welcome everyone, or it is pointless! Sometimes I think we should throw out the whole lot and start again."
Leliana did not often speak of her time with the Church, and never in much detail. Cassandra assumed this was to prevent any awkwardness over their differing religious beliefs.
"I am not surprised you left," said Cassandra, pulling out a weed with a single tug. She was pleased to notice how easy it was, and how little pain she felt. Vanquishing weeds might be a step down from winning battles, but it was more than she'd been capable of a few weeks ago, and after everything Leliana had done for her she liked to be able to help out around the cottage. "You are too much of an idealist. There will always be corruption, and cruelty. We must stay true to our principles, but we must also accept that their expression in reality will always be imperfect. I was often frustrated by the attitudes of the other Seekers, but I would never want to see the Order destroyed. Instead I try to use these frustrations to motivate myself to make things better."
Leliana raised an eyebrow. "Cassandra, if I did not know better I would think you were suggesting I return to the Church."
"I…" That was the natural consequence of her argument, wasn't it? "Not necessarily. You seem happy here."
"I am happy here with you." Leliana turned her head, strands of white in her copper hair sparkling like silver in the sunlight. "I was not happy before. I…I will not be happy when you leave."
Cassandra felt a stab of guilt, and then another stab that her loyalties were so divided.
Leliana's voice grew low, and less friendly. "You are not as subtle as you think," she said. "I am not angry that you are leaving. You always told me you would. But were you planning on leaving in the middle of the night, without even saying good bye?"
Of course Leliana had noticed. She was almost uncannily observant. And now Cassandra had hurt her. "No, Leliana! That is not…"
And yet…and yet Cassandra knew with leaden certainty that she probably would do exactly that, in the end. She had to leave, and unless she left without warning she would never have the strength. But not today, not yet.
Leliana stabbed the ground with such force that the shovel was buried to the hilt and the handle bent. "Then why do you prepare in secret?" She wrenched the shovel upwards with a short jerk, catapulting a wedge of dirt neatly onto the pile of weeds before attacking her next victim. Cassandra hated being responsible for putting Leliana in such a mood. "Why did you try to hide your meeting with that scout- did you think I would report you to the guard?"
"Of course not! But…but once I told you I was going to go…I would have to do it." Cassandra felt a wash of shame at her weakness.
"Oh," said Leliana. She smiled at Cassandra and it almost made things all right. "But then why not stay?" She leaned forward, and put her gloved hands on Cassandra's. "I did not want to ask when I thought you would say no, but Cassandra…you are welcome here for as long as you like. You cannot imagine how lonely I was before you came. But now you are here…I am so happy. I enjoy talking to you, and working with you, even the times we sit together in silence. This war hurts everyone, I know you realise that. Why take part in it? Why not stay here with me?"
She was close, so hopeful, so beautiful. I love her, thought Cassandra. I love her and we could be together forever. The only thing stopping us is me.
How had it come to this? Her family, her friends, her apprentice, practically everyone she had ever cared about was dead. Good people, dedicated to God, cut down for no reason at all. And here was Cassandra, abandoning her post, idling behind enemy lines with a member of the Church. How had this woman become so dear to her heart? Why did being with her make Cassandra feel a happiness she had never known?
Pulling her hand away was one of the hardest things Cassandra had ever done.
"Would you have me break my oath?" she said, her voice cracking. "Become a deserter in the middle of a war? I could not live with myself."
"And so you cannot live with me."
"I cannot." The idea of breaking her oath felt worse than death. Cassandra's dedication to the Seekers, and to the God they served, had remained undimmed over the many years since her recruitment and initiation. She could no more let go of that dedication than she could stop breathing. She had silenced her internal call to arms by telling herself she needed to heal, but that excuse was becoming increasingly threadbare. Her feelings for Leliana were intoxicating, but they could not overcome the existing hold on her heart. They could only make pursuing her duty unbearable.
An unhappy silence fell between them.
Cassandra let herself move slightly closer to Leliana. "If you are not happy here, why do you stay?"
"It is too complicated to explain. But I…I did not like the person I was becoming. Living alone is not in my nature, but it is better than the alternative."
"But you are happy with only me? You do not wish for a man, or…"
"A man!" Leliana laughed sharply. "Are you really so dense?" She glared at Cassandra in frustration. Cassandra was forced to look away. Leliana stood up and brushed the dirt off her skirts. "Perhaps I should return to the Church: all those beautiful young initiates, so chaste and virtuous, like fruit waiting to be plucked…"
Cassandra felt a heat start in her cheeks and spread outwards. All the initiates of the Church of Cybele were women. She had sometimes suspected…
But what did it matter? What did any of it matter if they were going to have to part, and never see each other again?
Cassandra felt Leliana's eyes upon her. It would be too cruel to say nothing, yet what could she say?
"A woman, then," she said. I am a woman, she thought. "A woman who can stay with you."
"That would be something, wouldn't it? But we should not expect miracles." Leliana walked back into the cottage, leaving Cassandra alone in the dirt.
There was a knock at the door. Cassandra quickly stood up and wiped down the crumbs that had fallen onto her lap, then straightened her uniform. The uniform of a Seeker didn't mean much to anyone else now, except as a reminder of old wounds, but it meant something to her. And whatever purpose she'd been called here for, she was a representative of Merigny, and had a responsibility to look her best.
First through the door was a priest. A female priest- the only kind, here in the Goddess's Arch-basilica. The young woman nodded her head in greeting and Cassandra returned the gesture. And behind her…behind her stood the Divine.
The priest closed the door, and she and the Divine sat down opposite Cassandra.
"Good afternoon, Commander Pentaghast," said Divine Victoria.
Cassandra made a sputtering noise.
The priest looked at her with wide, startled eyes. "Are you well, Commander?"
Cassandra forced herself to stop staring at the Divine long enough to croak out a reply. "Quite well, thank you."
"That will be all, Paulette," said the Divine. "The Commander and I are old friends, and would like to speak alone."
Paulette stared at Divine Victoria now, obviously trying to imagine how she could ever have become friends with a Seeker from Merigny. Her hands twitched and Cassandra was reminded of young Seeker initiates, so full of nervous energy but determined to behave properly. "Yes, Most Holy," she said, and bowed low before leaving the room. Victoria stood up and locked the door behind her.
It was like a dream. That was Leliana's face, Leliana's voice but…how could this be? Was it simply some strange coincidence? Some sort of horrible trick?
"I apologise, Most Holy," said Cassandra. "But…are you…I…" How could she even say it?
Leliana…the Divine…the woman tilted her head. "Would this help?" she said, and took off her head dress. A long braid of copper hair spilled down past her shoulders as she shook her head free. There was no mistaking her now.
"Leliana," breathed Cassandra. She was alive, in front of her, her beauty only increased by the passing of time… It was impossible to think when faced with this vision.
"At last she remembers me," said Leliana. There was a bitter twist to her smile.
"Of course I remember you!" said Cassandra. "But how can you be…are you truly Divine Victoria?"
"It would be a fine trick if I was not," said Leliana. "Although sometimes I have trouble believing it myself." She rested her hands carefully on her headdress, and gently ran her fingers over the gold feathers adorning the forehead. "Did I not always tell you that someone needed to take control of the Church of Cybele, and make things right? It turned out that person was me."
As if she had simply woken up one morning and decided to become head of a major religion. As if becoming Divine was not a matter of planning, of politics, of … oh. How could this be? If she was Divine Victoria, then…
"You were Sister Nightingale," said Cassandra. "You have killed people!"
Sister Nightingale had worked in the shadows, never openly showing herself, but there was no denying the deaths that had followed in her wake. Priests, politicians...maybe even Merigny's Queen. Cassandra had sometimes wondered what it would be like to meet such a woman, to test her skill against the cold merchant of death. But she'd never imagined this.
"As have you," said Leliana, her voice tight. "And quite a few more than I have, I would imagine."
"…Yes, that is probably so," said Cassandra, thinking of the many lives she had taken over the years, and what she knew of Sister Nightingale's methods. A stiletto did not cut as wide a swathe as a sword. "But…the woman I knew would not have killed anyone. What happened to you?" She had always imagined Leliana unchanged by the war, if not slain. That had been foolish, time stops for no one. But for her to have changed so much!
"The woman you knew…" Leliana laughed bitterly. "The woman you knew already had blood on her hands, even if you could not see it. I am the same person I always was."
"You…" A hundred memories came together: Leliana's reluctance to discuss her past; her compassion for Cassandra's role in the war; her sly manipulations; her nonchalance towards the dangers of the woods, and the war. Cassandra had thought her shy, empathetic, naive. She had been a fool. "I see."
If she was Sister Nightingale…she must have returned to the Church not long after Cassandra returned to the Seekers. But to have risen to be the Divine's Left Hand so quickly, and from there to become Divine…it displayed an immense force of will. Cassandra had always admired Leliana, but she had clearly been underestimating her.
Leliana put a bread roll on a small plate and picked at it with delicate fingers. "For a time I convinced myself that I could be someone else, but we cannot deny our true natures, can we Cassandra?" She looked up, and her eyes were sharp. "Is that not why you left?"
Perhaps she had summoned Cassandra in order to kill her after all.
"Yes," said Cassandra. "I used to believe that. It is why I left. And now I am a soldier without a war."
"My apologies," said Leliana, as if she was personally responsible. Perhaps she was. At this point, Cassandra would believe her capable of anything.
"I do not wish for war," said Cassandra. "If I must sacrifice my purpose to bring peace to Merigny- to all of us, then that is a price I would willingly pay. That and much more." She sighed. "But… my people do not need me anymore, Leliana. The Seekers no longer even exist. The things I left you for…they are gone, and all I am left with is regret. I do not know if I should have stayed, if I even could have, but I am sorry that I left you the way I did. More sorry than I can say."
Leliana smiled, a real smile, the smile Cassandra had dreamed of for all these years. "Then I forgive you."
"Truly?"
"I have done many terrible things for my people's sake. I cannot fault you for sacrificing our friendship for yours."
Our friendship. She made it sound like a living thing, a living thing that Cassandra had let die. And it was dead, wasn't it? It would be ridiculous to expect it to reawaken now.
"I am grateful. You are…as always you are better to me than I deserve."
"Hmm," said Leliana. She looked away, pensive. Cassandra compared the woman in front of her with the painting behind, and did not see much resemblance, even knowing who she was. And there were physical changes, too, between this Leliana and the one Cassandra had known. A little more white in her hair, a few more lines around her eyes…but also a sharpness, an intensity of spirit that had not been there before. Or had Cassandra simply been too oblivious to notice?
Who was she really, this woman?
"Leliana…Divine Victoria, why did you invite me here?"
"Leliana, please. And is it so hard to imagine that I wanted to see you?" said Leliana, as if it was the simplest thing in the world.
"Perhaps not."
Leliana sighed. "I thought about contacting you so many times, after the war. I suppose I was afraid you would not like me as I was. As I am." She smiled faintly, her eyes meeting Cassandra's briefly before looking away again. "But you inspired me, you know. I might have stayed in that cottage forever, if you had not come along. There you were, all noble and inspiring, talking of duty, and sacrifice, and not giving up on the world when it disappoints you…" She laughed. "I realise this may horrify you. As Sister Nightingale I did so many terrible things. Things I am sure you would not have done in my place. But you were always a better person than I am."
"Me!" Yet…Leliana had done many terrible things Cassandra would never have done. Horrible, dishonourable things. She had also achieved many great things that Cassandra would never have even thought to dream of. "I do not know which of us is better. Perhaps it does not matter. But you have achieved much that is worthy. I am honoured to have inspired you. And I am glad…very glad to see you so well. Even if this is the last place I expected to see you."
Leliana smiled at Cassandra affectionately and Cassandra smiled back. For a moment it was as if all those years had not passed, and they were friends again.
Leliana frowned at Cassandra, but it was one of her adorable teasing frowns. Cassandra had missed them nearly as much as her smiles. "But why did you not seek me out," she said. "You had no awkward secret life to conceal. Unless you have managed to hide it, even now, in which case you have my compliments as a spy."
"I have no such excuse," said Cassandra. "I suppose I was afraid. That you still resented me, that you were dead… If I never looked for you, I could imagine you happy in your cottage forever."
"Am I a disappointment, then?" she asked. The saviour of two nations, Most Holy to millions, and she asked if she was disappointing.
"You are a revelation," said Cassandra. "And I hope to get to know you better, as the woman you really are, if you would allow me."
Leliana smiled, and everything was somehow all right with the world. "I would like that very much."