The next time they spoke, the conversation was not so pleasant.
It had been a long two weeks before the party finally ventured back from the Hinterlands, riding in on horses from Master Dennet, magnificent steeds that rebelled at being corralled. The party was worn but seemingly none too worse for the wear. Right away, Solas excused himself, taking the herbs they'd collected to the apothecary, murmuring the recipes of useful potions under his breath.
"Curse demons, the entire blighted lot of them," Trevelyan grumbled as they trudged up the steps to the clearing in front of the Chantry. She'd been scratched and bludgeoned and frozen, and she knew this was just the beginning; who knew what else was to come?
Varric gave her a consoling pat. "There, there, Stabby. We won't be ass-deep in demons forever."
"Just the foreseeable future," Cassandra quipped, and Trevelyan groaned in response.
She was about to respond when movement caught her eye. It was one of the spymaster's agents, running for her tent with a scroll in his hand. Haste and an agent were never a promising sign, and Trevelyan felt a prickle of dread run down her spine.
"Go on ahead, I'll meet you in a moment," she said, flicking her gaze back to her companions.
Cassandra and Varric shared a look before turning and entering the Chantry, and Trevelyan crossed the clearing with quick steps. She could hear the low, agitated voices of the spymaster and agent, and Trevelyan bit her lip. It was bad news, then.
"You're sure?" Leliana was asking the agent as Trevelyan entered the tent.
He nodded with a solemn, "Yes, milady."
Leliana leaned against her writing table, staring past the parchment, a frown marring her face. Neither she nor the agent paid Trevelyan any mind, so the younger woman leaned against a tent pole, content to wait her turn and listen.
"Farrier was one of my best agents. He…" The spymaster trailed off, and when she spoke again her voice was tight with anger. "Butler was responsible for this, and he will pay for what he's done. Still, we were friends once, so make it clean." She cast a knowing, cold look at her agent, and he nodded, expressionless.
Trevelyan's eyebrows skyrocketed up. "Wait, what are you doing?" She asked in alarm.
Leliana turned to her, eyes narrowed and brimming with a cold fire, and Trevelyan urged herself not to flinch. "Butler betrayed us. He killed one of my agents!"
"So you'll kill him, just like that?" She shot back, straightening up and crossing her arms defensively. The idea of killing a man in cold blood, while she had no doubt the spymaster had done before and would do again as her job required it, still unsettled her.
Leliana visibly bristled. "You find fault with my decision, Herald?" She threw out Trevelyan's title like a challenge.
Trevelyan knew that she wasn't in any position to critique the spymaster's methods. Still, cold-blooded murder seemed…radical, especially when it was motivated by revenge. "I'm sure most of your decisions are fine, but that one is a little extreme."
Leliana scoffed. "Extreme? His betrayal put my agents in danger. I condemn one man to save dozens."
That's a bloody arithmetic, Trevelyan thought, feeling squeamish at the thought.
"I may not like what I do, but it must be done. I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this." Leliana dismissed, and Trevelyan flared up.
"Now is precisely the time for ideals!" She argued passionately, feeling her frustration get the better of her. "We are at war, with each other and with the Fade. People are dying all around us, being killed by people they used to sit across the dinner table with." She thought back to the brothers in the Hinterlands who fought to the death. "The Inquisition cannot be consumed by this madness. It must stand for something more." Out of breath and slightly self-conscious, she stopped her rant there.
Leliana stared at her as if she was seeing the rogue for the first time, and Trevelyan did her best not to squirm under the gaze. Finally, she turned back to her table and the parchment there. "You feel very strongly about this," she remarked in a way that seemed almost as if she was talking to herself.
A long moment stretched out, the agent looking down at his hands awkwardly, Trevelyan staring at Leliana's back in anticipation.
Leliana turned to the agent. "Apprehend Butler. But see that he lives." He nodded and left at once.
Trevelyan breathed out a sigh of relief. Leliana noticed but did not comment.
"Now if you're happy, I have more work to do," the spymaster said, pointedly turning away.
"Ah, uh, of course," Trevelyan said awkwardly, knowing that she was being dismissed. She felt torn between apologizing for the intrusion and outburst or thanking the older woman for considering her opinion. In the end, she opted for neither, walking away quietly, trying her best to keep a dignified pace as she retreated and not to run.
Leliana listened as the sound of her footsteps faded before leaning heavily on her writing table once more, frowning. The passion, the idealism, the glint in Trevelyan's eye when she spoke all reminded her of a lifetime ago and her journeys with the late Hero of Fereldan. The Warden had been gruffer, to be sure, which Leliana assumed was part of what attracted him to Morrigan. But still, he had always been so steadfast in his values that he had been willing to lay down his life for them. He had been a force. They had all been a force, Leliana corrected herself. A force for good. And she had continued in that vein when she had agreed to be Justinia's Left Hand.
Was she changing, without his guidance, without Justinia's? It was a haunting question. Everything seemed so much darker, this time around, so much trickier to navigate.
But it was not something to dwell on, she chastised herself. She had work to do.