-Chassidy Trevelyan-
"Second bell," I muttered to myself. "Fashionably late, now…"
I had just been poking in the most secret parts of the castle, and my search had been fruitful. I hadn't had a chance to thoroughly read through the documents I had discovered, but Leliana would be eager to see them later. Quickening my pace, I slowly grasped the cold door handle.
"Well, well," cooed a deep voice from behind me. "What have we here?"
I froze for a moment, then spun on my heels to come face-to-face with the most shockingly beautiful yet horrifying woman I had ever seen.
Her electric yellow eyes sunk into my own as her boots clicked down the stairs. "The new leader of the Inquisition; fabled herald of the faith! Delivered from the grasp of the Fade by the hand of blessed Andraste herself!" The woman posed with her hands on the waist of a beautiful red velvet gown.
I smirked while she went on; "What could bring such an exalted creature here to the Imperial Court, I wonder? Do even you know?"
"We may never know!" said, crossing my arms. "Courtly intrigues and all that."
"Such intrigues obscure much, but not all. I am Morrigan," she said with a bow of her head. "Some call me advisor to Empress Celene on matters of the arcane." She motioned for me to follow her as we walked through a throng of people in the ballroom. I noticed that her walk was very…Ferelden. Her back was hunched and her arms had a swing to them, very unlike the stiff movements of the Orlesian wallflowers. She went on, "You have been very busy this evening, hunting in every dark corner of the palace. Perhaps you and I hunt the same prey?"
"I hope so," I sighed. "I could use another ally here."
Her gown had bright blue feathers. No Orlesians ever wore feathers!
"A sentiment I share, considering recent events," said Morrigan.
"Recent events?"
"Recently I found, and killed, an unwelcome guest within these very halls; an agent of Tevinter. So I offer you this, Inquisitor," she opened her palm to reveal a small glittering object. "A key found on the Tevinter's body. Where it leads, I cannot say; yet if Celene is in danger, I cannot leave her side long enough to search. You can."
"If you truly want answers, come help me find them," I offered.
Morrigan clucked, "I already told you: I must return to protect the empress. But proceed with caution, Inquisitor. Enemies abound, and not all of them allied with Tevinter. What comes next," she said with a devious smile. "Will be most exciting…"
Gripping the key, I slipped off to go gather my party to scour the servant's quarters. Before I got very far, however, I accidentally ran straight into a woman with a beautiful red dress and a golden mask. Yelping in surprise, I started to fall back, but the woman reached down and grabbed my wrist. Her bare hands were very cold to the touch. Whispering an apology, I brushed past her and tried to regain my footing. I had to find the assassin; I had to.
-Sister Nightingale-
Leliana thought that her eyes were surely betraying her. The Warden had told her that she had disappeared, strolled right into an eluvian! Of all the possible places for her to end up, dressed in a fancy gown at the Orlesian court would have taken dead last on Leliana's list.
In fact…there was something about that dress…
Then it came back to her;
They had walked into the tavern; Emilia had wanted a drink and nobody was bold enough to object to her. After all, Redcliffe was preparing for a massive attack from the undead; who could blame her for wanting to slip away for a moment?
She slumped at a table and the rest of them had awkwardly shuffled behind her to take a seat. Alistair was quick to grab the one next to his fellow Warden; Leliana had noticed the adoring looks he had been giving her ever since she met the two of them in Lothering.
Leliana went to take a seat across from them, but her eyes had noticed Morrigan, perched impatiently against the wall. Despite the angry and spiteful look in her yellow eyes, Leliana could not peel away her gaze from the woman. She was strikingly beautiful, and deserved to be told so…
"You are very beautiful, Morrigan."
The witch looked up, initially startled at the mention of her name, but her eyes lowered back to half-mast when she saw it was only the bard. She tossed her head and scoffed, "Tell me something I do not know."
"But you always dress in such rags!" exclaimed the girl, gesturing to her shabby outfit. "It suits you, I suppose. A little tear here, a little rip there to show some skin. I understand."
"You understand I lived in a forest, I hope?"
Suddenly, a vision popped into Leliana's head. In her daydreams, she always fantasized about her days spent at the Orlesian balls and soirees, when she would play a game with herself to figure out who had the prettiest dress. One gown in particular had remained in her mind all these years. Excitedly, she described it to Morrigan: "Maybe we could get you in a nice dress one day…silk. No, maybe velvet. Velvet is heavier, better to guard against the cold in Ferelden." Leliana was growing giddy at the thought. "Dark red velvet, yes, with gold embroidery." Her eyes ran up and down over the witch's beautiful figure, and she added, "It should be cut low in the front of course, we don't want to hide your features."
Morrigan glared at her and shifted uncomfortably. "Stop looking at my breasts like that. 'Tis most disturbing!"
The bard scrunched her brow. "You don't think so?" Another vision popped into her mind. "And if it's cut low in the front we must put your hair up to show off that lovely neck."
"You are insane!" yelled Morrigan. "I would sooner let Alistair dress me!"
From a few seats over, Alistair, who had been whispering to his fellow Warden to comfort her, almost jumped out of his skin at her mention of his name. Even Emilia had looked up from her drink to listen in on their conversation. From the smirk on her face, she must have found Leliana's idea to be intriguing as well.
"Oh it'll be fun!" she laughed. "I promise! We'll get some shoes too-" Leliana gasped as her mind spun with the possibility of her favorite accessory. "Ooh, shoes! We could go shopping together!"
The horrified and embarrassed look on Morrigan's face had made even Emilia laugh. Her laugh was like a beacon, and every sad soul in the room turned to look at the stunning woman who had found a reason to laugh even in these dark times. Her happiness made Alistair smile, and he pushed aside all of his shyness and embarrassment to take her hand in his own.
Still laughing, Emilia had leaned into his shoulder.
Leliana had caused the beginnings of the famous relationship between the King and Queen of Ferelden.
The memory warmed Leliana's mind as she made her way over to Morrigan's position. On her way, though, she had nearly stumbled over a wandering noble woman. Issuing her apologies, Leliana looked up, but her blood ran cold.
It was the woman she had seen earlier; the one with the golden mask and no gloves. No female player of the Game would dare set foot in a ball without sporting gloves. The woman had been lingering close to members of the Inquisition all night, and it made her extremely suspicious. Earlier she had tried to warn Josephine, but with the large crowd focusing each bit of their attention on them, it would have given away her suspicion. If this woman was the assassin, such an action would have given away the Inquisition's real purpose; to protect the empress.
The woman's reaction was startled; suspiciously so. Murmuring, she bowed her masked head and hurried off in the opposite direction. Reminding herself to look out for that woman later, the Nightingale was reminded of her excitement, and stepped out into the evening air.
"I see you took my advice after all, old friend," whispered the bard as she approached the figure on the balcony.
Morrigan turned with a start, her wild electric eyes settling upon Leliana. She blinked and furrowed her brow, trying to recognize who dared to address her, but suddenly all of the memories came rushing back. "Leliana," she smirked coolly. "I had heard you would be here."
"You didn't reply to my comment, though," she teased as she came to stand beside her old friend. Don't think I've forgotten about what I told you ten years ago. A dark red velvet dress, with gold embroidery cut low in the front…"
"I do not know what you are talking about," huffed the Witch as she rounded her heels to go perch herself back over the balcony.
"I am glad to see you too, my friend," Leliana whispered as she came up to stand beside her. It had been ten years since they had last seen each other, and Morrigan was looking more beautiful than ever before, if that was even possible.
"You've changed."
Leliana didn't disagree with her accusation. "Would you expect anything else after the passing of ten years? The inspiration I once drew from my vision has faded over the years, and with the death of Justinia…well. It seems that this world is not as kind and forgiving of a place I once thought it to be."
Morrigan's only sign of agreement was a mournful glance into the horizon. "Have you heard from her?"
"From who?"
"You know who I'm talking about. Celene said she vanished."
"I've written to her several times, yes. She travelled far, far west in search of a means to end the Calling so she can spend more time with her King."
"That fool's still alive?" scoffed the witch.
"You know he is, Morrigan. Alistair wouldn't die on us yet."
"'Tis a pity, then."
Leliana laughed sadly, thinking fondly on those older days. "Do you miss her, Morrigan?"
"She is the only person I would trust with anything."
"Yes, then?"
Before Morrigan could respond, however, Leliana's eyes scowled at the figure perching itself by the balcony door. It was the gloveless woman again, pretending to stare at the dancers. But Leliana knew all the tricks of eavesdropping; her head was turned at an angle where she would be able to hear their conversation perfectly. Three times was the golden number; she had found her spy.
"Come with me," Leliana said suddenly, tugging on the witch's sleeve.
Morrigan pulled herself free from Leliana's grasp and huffed, "Don't pull on me! What are fussing over?"
"Don't ask me; not here. Come with me."
Rolling her eyes, Morrigan shuffled along behind Leliana as they navigated their way through the main crowd of the ballroom, into the vestibule, and into a side room by the entrance to the servant's quarters. No one else was in the room except for two gossiping nobles in the corner. Upon seeing Leliana, though, they tried to make a discreet exit. Obviously they were intimidated by the Inquisition's wily spymaster.
"What is it?" demanded Morrigan, putting her hands on her hips.
Leliana motioned for her to turn towards the doorway. "In a few moments, a woman wearing a red gown with no gloves will walk into here. I have reason to believe that this is the assassin stalking Celene. Apparently, she is targeting the Inquisition as well. When we see her, we move towards the exit, and I will ambush her. With any luck, this whole mess ends now."
Morrigan was shocked, to say the least, by Leliana's change in attitude over the years. The only thought that came to mind was the phrase 'Princess Stabbity' spoken by the idiot King of Ferelden himself. Still, however, she did not protest. If Leliana was surely a spymaster, she must have insight far greater than her own.
Sure enough, the woman of Leliana's description appeared by the door and casually strolled in to examine a plaque on a statue.
Leliana, motioning for Morrigan to follow, said, "Have you sampled the cheese tonight, my lady? The chefs have truly outdone themselves."
Morrigan scoffed. "I have had things to do, I do not have time to sample foods. Who do you take me for?" They were ten paces away from the woman.
"Oh, I don't know," sighed Leliana. "With so many masks, it's hard to know who we can…take people for."
Leliana had come up behind the woman and pressed her dagger to her neck. The masked woman did not move a muscle, as if she had been anticipating it.
"Move and I slit your throat."
Beneath the golden mask, they heard an unmistakable laugh.
"You dare laugh at me?" roared Leliana, spinning the woman around so that she was looking her in the eyes. "Crossing the Inquisition will be your last mistake."
"Oh, Leliana," came the voice again. Morrigan and the Nightingale both froze. The voice was not Orlesian or Tevinter like they were expecting the assassin to be. It was…Ferelden. A very familiar Ferelden voice.
"Who are you?" whispered Morrigan, just as confused as Leliana.
No response came.
Furiously, Morrigan reached up to the golden mask and ripped it off of the woman's face. Beneath it laid the most beautiful golden hair spilled around a rounded face in sweaty wisps. Rosy cheeks blushed upon their exposure, and her rosebud lips curled into a smile. Morrigan's electric eyes met the woman's sky blue ones.
But that was impossible…
Leliana was pressing her dagger to the throat of none other than the Hero of Ferelden; Queen Emilia Cousland.