Thanks to all of you for the amazing enthusiasm you've shown for this story! Tuesday should bring answers - until then, I look forward to your speculations. This story has been on hold for quite a long time because I couldn't figure out how to kill Leliana. Then I had the bright idea to ask the always-helpful Cheeky Monkeys of the CMDA forum - this chapter is brought to you via the crafty brain of Shakespira. Special thanks to WellspringCD, my amazing beta!
The great library of the Chantry was silent at this hour of the night, so quiet you could almost hear the dust settling on the books. Leliana listened carefully to be sure she was alone before bending her head over the book she had found buried on a high shelf deep in the stacks. Its once-fine leather cover was crumbling, but the beauty of the volume was still there—it was a perfect representative of its subject, the great ruined temple to Andraste high above the small stunted town of Haven. The experience of entering that snow-covered temple, of imagining what it must have been like when first built, had moved Leliana deeply. She had felt a kinship with the great woman she revered, a closeness that not even the Guardian's cruel words could take from her.
That it was dangerous to read the book in the Chantry's own library Leliana knew. It had been hidden away so that the secrets of Andraste's temple, the very story of its building, would be concealed. Leliana was hungry for the secrets hidden inside, the revelations about Andraste she knew it must contain. She could easily have snuck it out and read it in a more secure location, but she couldn't bring herself to endanger the fragile volume by removing it from the premises. Here it was safe from (most) prying eyes, and would be preserved for the edification of future generations.
She bent her head, carefully opening the cover. Soon she was lost in the volume.
The cloaked figure moved quietly away from the door, each step deliberate. These were not skills that came easily, especially when attempting to elude a rogue as skilled as Leliana, and the figure was cautious, breathing shallowly to avoid making even the smallest sound. The red head of the target was bent over the book, completely engrossed, and the figure was in position long before Leliana sat back with a weary sigh, closing the book almost reverently.
Leliana rubbed at her eyes, tired and sore from squinting at the faded ink in the light of her candle. A yawn escaped her—the night had gone by more quickly than she had imagined it could, and it was time to restore the book to its shelf, before the Templars and the sisters came to open the library. She closed the book, careful of the fragile pages and the ancient binding, and blew out the candle. The early morning light coming in through the high windows was enough for Leliana's sharp eyes to see by.
The ladder was still where she had left it, perched against the tall bookshelf. Leliana stood listening for a moment, but her own breathing was all she could hear. She climbed the ladder, holding on with one hand while she clutched the book in the other. She had to stand on the very top of the ladder to reach the shelf the book belonged on, balancing herself precariously and holding onto the shelf with her fingertips. Finding the book in the first place while in this position had been quite a feat. Putting it back was somewhat easier.
Leliana was distracted by the need to be careful with the small volume as she attempted to slide it back into place on the tightly packed shelf, and so she didn't hear the faint footsteps on the floor as the cloaked figure emerged from behind the next bookcase. By the time the figure's gloved hands had closed around the ladder, jerking it roughly out of place, it was too late for Leliana to grab hold of anything that might help break her fall. Concerned for the book, she twisted awkwardly, catching her foot in the ladder and knocking herself off balance. She hit the ground hard, her head smacking into the floor with a sickening crack. The book was thrown from her hand, skidding across the floor and sliding underneath a bookcase, where it would remain hidden for decades to come.
The figure watched Leliana's motionless, broken body for a few minutes, exulting in the blood that seeped from the back of her head and began to pool on the floor, before turning with a sweep of its cloak and leaving.
All was silent and still in the library, other than Leliana's harsh, labored breaths. A shadow detached itself from the wall, and a man in leather armor moved across the floor, standing in front of the fallen bard. He looked down at her dispassionately as she stirred, moaning, and then he disappeared behind the bookcase as her eyes began to flutter open. He put his hands on the back of the bookcase, shoving it with all his strength.
Leliana struggled to focus, to move, her eyes drawn to a blur of movement as the bookcase above her began to sway. It fell, landing heavily on top of her.
The man in the leather armor knelt next to the fallen bookcase, listening to be certain the bard was dead. Then he nimbly climbed the wall and slipped out a high window, the way he had come in, leaving the library still and silent behind him.