Marian waited in the shadows of the doorway, nerves making her wring her hands together. Varric had reassured her that the Inquisitor was a reasonable woman, and as a Dalish, less invested in the Chantry than her advisors were. Maker, she had nearly vomited in fear when she had spotted Cullen earlier. The specter of the Chantry still loomed in the back of her mind, and the fear that someday Maureva would be taken from her and forced into a Circle. She knew she shouldn't really worry about Cullen anymore, though.
Carver had written that the former Knight-Captain was less contemptuous of mages than he had been when she left Kirkwall, which Marian supposed had to be true for him to agree to work under one in the Inquisition, and for him to stay with them after the mages from Redcliffe were recruited. Now her concern was the Inquisitor herself. Supposedly, she was far less flighty than Merrill, and much more personable than Marethari.
The rumble of Varric's voice rose up to her, and she spotted the top of his head and a surprisingly solid female elf behind him. She was still slim, but rather than appearing stick-thin and fragile like Merrill and the alienage elves, she had curves and a fullness to her face. The only other elf she'd seen as filled out as Fen'lath Lavellan was Fenris. Although, as Fen'lath passed close to join Varric on the parapet, she could see the visible strain on the elven woman's face.
The lines that marked the strain of leadership surrounded her mouth and eyes, although she appeared to have been fortunate enough to avoid disturbed sleep, as she had no dark circles below her eyes. Her vallaslin were pretty, and Marian made a mental note to ask Merrill whose they were. Varric signalled for her to come out, and she stepped out into the crisp, clear sunlight.
"Inquisitor, meet Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."
"Though I don't use that title much, anymore." Marian grimaced at Varric and gave him a half-hug before shoving him jovially.
"Hawke, the Inquisitor, Fen'lath Lavellan. I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all."
As Varric stepped away, the Inquisitor was looking at her oddly. Now that she was closer, Marian got a sense she knew the Inquisitor from somewhere. Those odd Fade-green eyes would stick out anywhere, and she had the feeling she'd seen them before. Fen'lath's eyes widened, and she gasped, "You! You used my tent before the Conclave!"
Marian felt the blood drain from her face. The Dalish 'scout' whose tent she had used to feed Maureva. The Inquisitor was that scout. Andraste, she knew about her daughter. "Fen'lath… Inquisitor…"
Fen'lath grabbed her arm and pulled her further away from the guards patrolling the fortress walls. Her voice was low, and she tilted her head so her mouth was shadowed, a precaution against lip-reading. "Are they here with you?"
"N-no. I left them back home."
The Inquisitor visibly relaxed. "Good," she sighed, "Good. There are some people here who I imagine wouldn't hesitate to strike against your beloved or your child. I assume Varric knows, does Cullen?"
"Maker, no." Marian let out a relieved laugh. "Varric, my friends in Kirkwall, my brother, Prince Sebastian, a healer in Rivain, an Antivan Crow we trust implicitly, and the household staff that he and Varric screened for us."
"Mmm." Fen'lath drummed her fingers against her lips. "More people than I'd like, but considering only one of them is here, I think the secret is safe. Children are precious, and I will guard my knowledge of your daughter with my life."
Marian smiled. She liked the Inquisitor. "Then I should probably help you with that little Corypheus problem, shouldn't I?"