Leliana's morning routine was simple and rarely varied. Around dawn, Solona would venture back into their room after her pre-dawn insomnia, remove her clothing, and slide back into bed with the spymaster. This was how Leliana awoke every morning: naked and in her lover's arms. Sometimes they would make love, but often they simply would lie together, until Solona snored softly. Then Leliana would slip from the bed, wash her face, and pull on her Cowl of Office before getting to work.

Today had been a dramatic shift from her routine, however. The main reason was sitting at her own writing desk, quill scratching against parchment: Damian Hawke. Leliana watched the Champion of Kirkwall write her message, trying to remember the sound quill made against parchment. She'd been deaf nearly eleven years now. Her mind no longer remembered simple sounds like this.

She knew the feeling of the quill well, though. She was spymaster of the Inquisition; she wrote many messages.

"And how is young Bethany?" Leliana asked, ending the silence – imagined on her part – between them. "She was always such a sweet girl."

Damian looked up, smiling. "Hardly a girl anymore." Leliana inclined her head in acknowledgement. "She is well," the Champion continued. Then she turned back to her letter. Leliana could see her lips moving, but could not read them at this angle.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, and the Champion looked back to her. "You might know I am deaf. I read lips well, but I must be able to see them."

"Oh! You're right, of course! I knew, but I am unused to… never mind. Bethany is well. She has finally accepted her Maker-given gifts, and she and Oghren make quite the sparring partners. His immunity to magic makes them an incredible duo."

Leliana smiled. "It was true for him and Solona, as well. They made quite the fighting force during the Blight."

Hawke considered her for a moment. Finally, she spoke again. "How was it we never met in Lothering? My understanding is you were there nearly three years before the Blight. You would have been there while Solona was with us, but you didn't meet until after she was a warden."

Leliana hesitated to answer, but she was trying to be less secretive with information that did not need to be kept secret. And this information, with this person, need not remain in shadow.

"When I first arrived, I… sequestered myself. I believe you were gone with the army? It was not until after Solona left that your mother found me at prayer in the Chantry, and began to draw me out." Leliana paused, knitting her brows. "Learning of her death was painful for us both. I am sorry you have lost so much."

Hawke heaved a sigh. "It's all right. I still have Bethany. It's more than most." But it did not look all right. Leliana recognized the look in the Champion's eyes. It was a look shared by Solona, Cassandra, and the Inquisitor: she had lost much, and the scars were there upon her heart, upon her soul.

Hawke's eyes snapped to a point behind Leliana. At the same moment, Bella's ears perked, and the mabari turned. Leliana followed suit, seeing Cassandra's dark hair appear at the stairs. She pursed her lips. She'd known this was coming when Cassandra insisted she speak with Varric and Solona. Hopefully the spymaster wasn't in for a lecture. She wouldn't dare.

"Hello, Cassandra," she greeted.

The Seeker was stiff as she came to a halt, just at the top of the stairs. "Leliana. Champion."

"What brings you all the way up here, Cassandra?"

"I wished to speak with you. Privately," the Right Hand added, eyes shifting to Damian for a moment.

Leliana nodded and turned, denying Cassandra the ability to say more and be "heard" by the deaf spymaster. It was a subtle thing, but it allowed Leliana to retain some control. "We can speak on the balcony. Ser Hawke, please continue with your correspondence. I will return shortly."

She turned, once out in the chill air of Skyhold, unsurprised to see Cassandra just closing the door, having indeed followed as instructed. "What did you need, Cassandra?"

The Seeker's lips moved wordlessly for a moment, jaw clenched. She was still obviously upset. Finally, words formed in the movement of her lips. "You must tell me why you kept Hawke's messages from me."

"I must?" Leliana raised a brow. "You make demands of me now?"

"I must know why, Leliana. I must know, because right now I do not know if I can trust you."

Leliana knit her brows. She was fighting the desire to respond in anger. A quick, sharp-tongued response almost always shut down anyone who questioned her actions, her motives. But this was not just anyone; this was Cassandra. The last time she had thought the Seeker meant ill, the truth had revealed that Cassandra actually had Leliana's wellbeing at the forefront of her mind. She had returned from Haven with Solona in tow, well-ahead of the newly-recruited mages, just so that Leliana would have her love returned to her as soon as was possible.

She did not wish to silence through fear and anger the one who thought so highly of her.

"I had no motive in this, Cassandra," she finally said. "Hawke left instructions of her whereabouts only for Solona – I could not decipher them. The letters themselves were notes to a dear cousin, not for anyone else's eyes. If I had been able to find the Champion, I would have told you immediately."

Cassandra's face flushed, and she turned, pacing away and back a few times, clearly regaining control of her prodigious temper. Leliana understood. It was yet another way Cassandra and Solona were alike, though she would never dare to say such to either of them. Their relationship was such that both would despair to learn of any similarity.

Finally, the Seeker calmed, turning back to Leliana. "Truly? You would have come to me if you had information I might need?"

"Cassandra, of course. Why do you doubt?"

"Your time without Solona… we have become distanced, Leliana. We used to work closely. You kept only that from me which you knew the Right Hand would not be able to ignore, but which must also be allowed to occur. I did not begrudge you your necessary secrets. But in the last year and more… you have grown cold and distant, Leliana. Solona is returned to you now. Can we not go back to the way we were? I have been patient, but I fear a permanent rift between us."

Leliana did not know what Cassandra injected into her tone. She had been denied that form of communication for many years. In its stead, she was a master at reading even the most minute of changes in one's features.

Cassandra had none. She stood with her shoulders squared, her back straight, and her face neutral: a posture of utmost professionalism. And yet she spoke of them as friends, not mere colleagues.

Leliana took a step closer, then another, moving until she could reach out and touch Cassandra's cheek. There, on each side, was a deep scar, taken in exchange for Leliana's life. The spymaster remembered the day well, three years before. The Divine and her entourage had been beset by bandits out on the road between Valence and Val Royeaux.

Leliana and Cassandra both push themselves from Most Holy's carriage. The fighting is quick and brutal, the force they face large. Their forces number less, but their skill is greater, with the Seeker, the former bard, and a squad of templars to protect the Divine. It is over quickly, but it was been many years since Leliana has seen an actual battlefield, and not merely the sparring ring. She does not hear the man creep up on her – how could she? – and it is all Cassandra can do to shove the Left Hand out of the way. She takes the blades meant for Leliana's back upon her face, and they cut deep before she can fall and roll out of the way.

Leliana kills the man, then tends to her friend, stitching her back together after forcing her to drink just enough to dull the Seeker's wits. They number no mages; Solona did not leave her clinic for this quick trip to Valence and back. When they return to Val Royeaux, Solona is able to heal much of the damage Cassandra took, but the wounds have been present for days, so these scars remain.

Forever a testament to Cassandra's character.

Letting her hand drop, Leliana found Cassandra's warm brown eyes. "I miss you, too, Cassandra. I am… sorry."

A hand found hers, the other hand gripping the Left Hand's shoulder. Few would dare such close contact. She was pleased that Cassandra still dared.

They turned and made their way back into the rookery together. She could almost feel the excitement rolling off of Cassandra. She wished to speak with the Champion. Leliana smirked. Clearly her admiration has not dwindled.

Damian was waiting when Leliana came back in from the door she'd taken the Seeker through.

"I'm through my message," she said, holding it out.

Leliana took it, swiftly folding it and adding it to the outstretched foot of one of the many fearsome birds of prey which littered the floor with the waste that crunched underfoot. The drafty rookery was at least well-ventilated, enough to not hold much of a smell, making it infinitely preferable to the stables.

I should go check on the horse. She is a beauty. I need to make sure they're taking care of her properly…

"Now all you need do is tell the bird where to go," Leliana said.

Perplexed, Damian did so, standing and watching as it flew through one of the many high windows just beneath the eaves that supported the roof.

"If you wouldn't mind, Champion," the Seeker said, getting Damian's attention. "Might we speak for a moment?"

Hawke narrowed her eyes. She didn't trust the Seeker. But she knew refusing would do her no favors. "All right," she said. "I was about to make my way to the stables to check on my horse. Care to accompany me?"

"This would be acceptable."

The Seeker didn't speak, however, until they were in the great hall of the keep. Signs of construction abounded, scaffolding lining the walls and dwarven masons just getting started with the morning's work. Horse, food, then bed. Maker, but it's been a long night.

"I fear you may have the wrong impression of my intentions, Champion," the Seeker said.

"Please, call me Damian, or Ser Hawke if you must. But I infinitely prefer my own name to that accursed title."

She merely inclined her head. "As it pleases you."

"You were saying?"

The Seeker's short hair ruffled in the chill, stiff breeze as they stepped out of the keep. "I was saying that I fear you have the wrong impression of me, and I wished to do what I can to right it."

"I see," Damian said, beginning to descend the seemingly endless stairs down to the main courtyard. "And what impression do you fear I have?"

"That I came to Kirkwall with an army to find you and kill you."

Damian stopped dead on the stairs at that, speechless as the Seeker turned to look up at her.

"What?"

"You just… well, you're nothing if not direct, aren't you?"

The Seeker huffed the smallest of laughs, barely detectable. Solona is right. It hardly gets sterner than this woman. "I see no reason to run circles around the issue."

"Indeed." Damian started walking once more. "You were right."

"Hmm?"

"I did think you were coming with an army to kill me for what I did in Kirkwall."

"Why?"

Hawke shrugged. "Because I chose to defy Meredith's choice of Annulment. Because I protected a blood mage convict. Because my sister is a mage." She paused, smiling. "But mostly because my luck could rightly be described as absolute shit."

That managed to pull another quiet chuckle from the Seeker. Maybe she wasn't so bad as Damian had thought? "Truth be told, Ser Hawke, I admire you."

Hawke nearly stopped dead in her tracks again. "Truly?"

"Yes. You were faced with impossible choices and you managed to identify the true problem and eliminate it, even when you had lost so much to the conflicts of the city, even when one of those true problems was a dear friend. Perhaps I would not have made the same decision as you regarding the blood mage… indeed, I would not. But you were faced with a situation no Seeker has faced in years, and untrained, no less. Your adherence to duty, to doing what must be done despite it only remotely involving you, is admirable. I wish more had the same sense of duty to those around them. It would avert many tragedies."

Damian was quiet for a moment as they walked, eyes traveling the walls of Skyhold. The grounds seemed at the same time quiet, and a flurry of activity. The castle could hold so many more than it currently occupied it, but those few who called the place home worked tirelessly to restore its facade, the holes in the mighty stonework, the wooden terraces in the towers. She grinned when she realized that one of only two complete wooden structures was the tavern. My kind of priorities. I bet it's better than the swill at The Hanged Man…

Finally, she stopped in the middle of the courtyard, turning to face the shorter Seeker. "What was your plan, if you had found me in Kirkwall?"

"To ask you to lead."

That surprised Damian more than anything so far. "To lead?"

"Yes. You were to lead this Inquisition. The mages knew of you, championing their cause. The templars, in Kirkwall at least, trusted you, having fought beside you against Meredith. You were the only unifying figure outside of the Chantry. The Divine, Leliana, and myself all agreed that you would be the ideal one to lead this Inquisition, not any of us." The Seeker paused, pursing her lips. "Of course, we did not know that we would need someone to close the rifts. The Inquisition's purpose was to bring order to the chaos of the mage-templar rebellion."

"And then Corypheus came and pissed on everything." Damian smirked at the distaste on the Seeker's face. "Lucky the Herald showed up when she did."

To her surprise, the Seeker's expression softened. "Yes. She was… precisely what we needed." Her eyes snapped to Damian, hardening once more. "But at the time, you were the one I thought we needed. I went to Kirkwall seeking your location, and proof of all you had done, all you had accomplished."

Now it was Damian's turn to frown. "Yes. And you treated my friend rather badly in order to obtain that truth."

The Seeker failed to look properly chastised at Damian's tone. "I am a Seeker of Truth and Right Hand to the Divine. I must be as unyielding in seeking the truth as the truth is elusive in being sought. Perhaps Varric did not deserve my rough treatment, but the world was falling apart, the situation desperate. I do not regret trying to put it back together. Lives were at stake. His hurt feelings were a price I was willing to pay."

"Really? You would torture innocents?"

She was returned a patient look. "Please, Ser Hawke-"

"Damian, Seeker."

"Yes, fine, Damian. And I am Cassandra. Did Varric tell you I tortured him?"

"You interrogated him."

"Yes. I interrogated him, and then insisted he come to Haven to speak with the Divine. I may have threatened violence, but not at any point did I strike him, or participate in any other techniques of torture. I find the practice reprehensible. I sought the truth, not to break him."

Damian stood quietly. If this was all true… then she fled for no reason. Everything she thought was true about the Seeker was false, and leaving Kirkwall to save the citizens was for naught. She couldn't have stopped the explosion at the Conclave, nor the Breach, but there had been no true reason for her to leave the city at the time

Finally, she spoke, having decided to give the Seeker a second chance. "Break fast with me, Cassandra. I would know more of your side of things."

"You believe me over Varric?"

Damian laughed, throwing an arm around Cassandra's stiff shoulders and turning her, leading her in the direction of the tavern. Clearly, she was uncomfortable with the physical familiarity. "I'll be the first to admit that Varric, at best, is prone to embellishments in his stories when it serves his needs…"

Josephine was so excited she could simply dance. Though she did not actually dance. She was very much unlike most of her countrymen in her reservation in public. But internally, she veritably squealed. Everything was going so well!

"What is it, Josie?" Revka called, smiling over at her from her desk. They shared an office, as they had in Haven, their writing tables flanking the plush red carpet that led from the main hall through to the War Room. It was symbolic, in that any decision concerning troop movement had to be made after walking through the diplomatic arm of the Inquisition. But it was also highly convenient: anyone who made their way to the War Room would be seen by at least one of the diplomats first. Their operations could hardly be more transparent than that.

But strategy was not on Josephine's mind at the moment. No. She had sent out couriers to Orlais, and should be hearing back by messenger bird any day now. That, and she had received great news in their fight against Corypheus upon the conclusion of the meeting with the Champion.

This was the news she shared with Revka. The other news was for herself only. Herself, and Ser Cauthrien, the only person she trusted with her personal information.

"I received invitations to the Winter Palace!" she said excitedly.

"Truly? That's wonderful news, Josie!" Revka said, beaming over at her. Normally, the younger of the Amell sisters would have found her feet and rejoiced with Josephine with an embrace, but the woman's size limited even simple things like getting in and out of seats. Josephine did not blame her, though. It certainly looked uncomfortable to be that large. And by anyone's count, she was only eight months along. What would happen when she spilled over into the ninth month?

"Yes, yes, I know!"

"Have you told anyone else?"

Josephine shook her head. "Not yet. I only just finished reading the missives. They are… well, very Orlesian."

"So interminable."

Josephine shook her head, chuckling. "Indeed. I shall call a meeting in the War Room. Sutherland?" The young man, one of the many squires that had joined the Inquisition and served as her messengers within Skyhold, looked up from his place at the door. "I need to call a meeting with the Inquisitor, Commander Rutherford, and Sister Nightingale."

"Aye, m'lady. When?"

"As soon as they are able. Let us say… on the next candlemark."

He was off without another word.

Forty minutes later, the five of them were gathered in the War Room.

"From the report on the future our Inquisitor prevented us from experiencing," Josephine started, nodding toward the white-haired elf, "we know that an assassination awaits the Empress of Orlais."

"We also know a demon army lies in wait to sweep across the country," Cullen said, shaking his head. "This scares me far more."

"Indeed. But as we do not currently have any leads on that."

That got the commander's attention. "You have a lead for the empress?"

"Yes," she said, nodding, trying hard to keep her smile merely pleased, and not smug. "I have managed to secure invitations to Hilamshiral for the masquerade in two weeks' time."

"Two weeks?!" Leliana exclaimed, her pale red brows knit over her blue eyes. "That is hardly enough time to get there, let alone with the proper wardrobe!"

"Yes, it is fretfully little time, I agree. But it is the perfect opportunity for an assassin to strike, with both Briala and Gaspard invited for peace talks, so we really should have a presence there."

"I apologize for interrupting," Zanneth said, getting Josephine's attention from her possibly over-excited explanation. "But could we perhaps explain this for the Dalish in the room?"

"Ah. Right. Of course, Inquisitor. Where to start…"

"Orlais is in civil war," Cullen said. "Grand-Duke Gaspard is in open rebellion against the empress."

Zanneth's white brows furrowed over her dark eyes. "Why?"

"Because he is older, and thus was heir-presumptive to the throne."

"But Celene maneuvered around him and claimed the favor of the Council of Heralds, so she is empress," Josephine said. "Gaspard was placed at the head of the empire's armies."

"And he was a chevalier himself, so the chevaliers all support him," Cullen continued. "The empress is seen as anti-military, since her concentration has been on peace-talks."

"But the empress has also thrown the elves of her nation to the wolves in her attempt to retain power, and Briala takes offense to this," Josephine countered. "It is… a difficult situation, to be sure."

"There are whispers," Leliana said, breaking her silence, "that Briala is a jilted lover of the empress, and organizes the elves because of this. Not because of a great need for her people to be free."

"As I said, it is a difficult situation," Josephine said, smiling.

"I'm afraid I'm going to need a lot more than just that." Zanneth moved forward, looking at the map of their forces - centered in Skyhold at the moment, since it was still winter and most paths through the mountains were at best dangerous, and at worst impassable. "But I can see what you mean. No one is guiltless, except perhaps Gaspard?"

"Do not think him blameless," Leliana said, her tone hard. "The chevaliers are merciless. On top of that, Gaspard plunged the country into civil war amidst the mage-templar war with no regard for the common citizen. His selfish need to be emperor now has made most of the countryside of Orlais a warzone, when coupled with the Seeker and Templar Orders seeking out mages in the homes of the citizenry. If he had but waited until we resolved this conflict… but no.

"Celene is too soft," Leliana added. "While Gaspard is too hard. But if I had to pick… I am not sure. Gaspard would be a strong leader. His desires are plain, for all to see. He does not play the Game. This might be necessary in an Orlesian ally to a Dalish Inquisitor. But it makes me uneasy that we would be unable to control him in any way."

"We can discuss who to support later," Josephine said. "For now, we must stop the assassination of the empress. Or at least be there so that we can have some measure of control, whatever happens."

A knock came at the door. They all turned, Leliana after the others as she could not hear. They should not be disturbed unless it was truly urgent. What could it be?

Revka went to the door, conferred briefly with someone, and then came back. "Josephine, it is urgent, and it is for you."

Pursing her lips, Josephine turned to the room. "Please continue explaining the political situation in Orlais. I will be back shortly."

She left the room as Revka began the lengthy process of detailing what happened when the last emperor died. Out in the hall stood Ser Cauthrien, her hair in its customary braid, a warrior's leathers covering her from head to toe, an Inquisition tabard completing her outfit. Josephine very much approved of the look.

"Aisling?" Josephine said. "What is it?"

"Josephine, I… I opened it, I'm sorry. I assumed it would be the good news you were hoping for." The knight who served as Cullen's second-in-command held out a rolled parchment. "It was the bird you'd sent with the couriers."

Josephine's heart jumped as she took the sheet of paper. Aisling's hand trembled, her face showing dismay and not joy. She unrolled the parchment, and inside she found…

Blood.

The parchment was one of her original documents, meant to reestablish trade in Orlais within the city limits of Val Royeaux, splashed with the messenger's blood. She knew it was his, for stuck within the dried gore was the card, with her family seal upon it, identifying him as a representative of the Montilyet family.

Her couriers were dead. She had their blood on her hands.

Her plans to save her family from destitution were ruined.