PROLOGUE:
The icy wind swept the grounds mercilessly, driving the people of Haven into their homes. A violent force blew the rain, creating waves of it rippling across the frigid air. The stems of flowers that had barely blossomed bent in submission under its tyranny and wrath. Misty clouds dominated the sky, washing it white with grief. A grief buried under ice and stone, resisting the inevitable pull and calling of time. Rain hammered on the glass of windows and dripped down silently as if in resignation. The last of the workers ran into the Chantry to escape the weather.
But there was one lone figure up on the ramparts, cloak billowing and whipping in the wind. None would have seen her face past the blur of rain. However, anyone approaching would feel the glacial blizzard surrounding her before they even got close. Commonfolk would call her mad, or whisper that she was secretly a mage, able to ward herself against the weather. Others would say she was waiting for something… the question was: for what?
Because indeed, a considerable number of them had noticed the spymaster standing in the exact same position from time to time, staring out at nothing in particular. And always when it rained. Now there she stood again, but this storm should have been enough for her to leave her musings and hurry indoors- she didn't.
"Sister Nightingale, we have sighted the Herald and the others."
An agent rushed up the steps to her, panting and drenched with rain. Inwardly, he was filled with utter incredulity and curiosity as to why his boss would do this to herself. As expected, she did not respond.
"Sister Nightingale?" he shouted over the wind.
This time, she nodded. "I heard you the first time," she said calmly.
"And… as promised, Mother Giselle is on her way to inform us-"
"I know."
Her agent stood there awkwardly, staring at her back. The spymaster finally turned her hooded face to him- just enough for him to meet her ice cold gaze. He recognized the dismissal but stood his ground.
"But there is also someone else with her, as scouts have reported- a young assistant who we barely know anything about."
At this, a furrow appeared between her brows. This was strange news- an assistant to the Mother would usually be a member of the Chantry. It would be a simple matter of going through the records and questioning the brothers and sisters who knew the Revered Mother. She didn't understand where the difficulty lay- much less why her agent would disturb her for something like this. Leliana turned her face to the wind again, impatient to return to solitude.
"And why is this?" she demanded.
"She appears to be new here- a surgeon, actually. There are whispers that she appeared suddenly in the Hinterlands and convinced the Mother to take her as an assistant."
The spymaster frowned. This was certainly strange news, if not suspicious. But there were other more pressing matters at hand. The woman nodded, already losing interest.
"There must be something you missed," she said shortly. "Try again."
Her agent hesitated but bowed. "As you wish, my lady."
He left her to the elements again, standing as straight as a rod in the wind, which was now significantly gentler. But the rain was still coming down to hit her cheeks with emphatic splashes. It ran down her face like tears, lingering on the edges of her jaw before dripping to the ground. The fine sheets of rainwater were all across the land, showering the snow-capped mountains and traversing the deep valleys.
She subconsciously raised a hand to the two gifts hanging around her neck, fingering the rim of the symbol and the sharp outline of the sword.
Leliana watched for the next few hours as the storm settled and the downpour dwindled to harmless spitting. The wind calmed down to a chilly breeze. And finally, the woman turned to leave the walkway and entered the warmth of the castle. She stepped in and felt the fire of the torch against her skin. But inside, she was still cold.
The spymaster took off her dripping cloak and set it aside. She walked down the stairs to her chambers, changing out of her armour to more comfortable clothes. And she sat down at the round table near her window, watching the droplets drip down the glass. Nothing could be seen through the blur of water. An unexpected stab of pain struck her chest at the sight and she breathed in deeply. Leliana bit her lip and stood up, trying to calm herself down. After a while it settled- just like the storm.
She walked over to one of the drawers- the one she always locked. With the key, Leliana unlocked it and slipped the scroll out. For a moment, she gazed at it… wondering if she should lock it away again. But then she decided against it and brought it back to the table.
Leliana unrolled it slowly, her eyes scanning the black strokes of ink down the length of the parchment.
The faded light passes through weeping clouds,
Memories as cold as the hollow sounds
of the rain falling on the edge of the window sill,
imprison my heart like the embrace of death…
She closed her eyes, the words taking her years back… back in time to the memories of better days past. To when the colours of a new beginning seeped into the canvas of the painting that was her life.
Back to the story of a love so deep it moved the gods to action, preserving it beyond death and time.
