A/N: Lots of flirting ahead! Or at least, flirting-like undertones. And overtones.

Chapter 13: A Wedding

"I will get straight to the point, Lady Herald, Seeker Pentaghast." Zanneth watched Vivienne turn from the window out of which she had been viewing her courtyard soiree. Cassandra stood at her side, beautifully stable and solid in a world that had stopped making sense to the Dalish elf a long time ago.

They had not been able to retire for the evening just yet. Rather, Vivienne had asked for the Herald and the Seeker, letting her servants guide the others to their own guest quarters. And now, their hostess addressed the both of them, standing to her full height and regarding them imperiously.

"I detest the chaos that has gripped our lands. The rebel mages are misguided, the templars have abandoned their holy duty, and there is a breach of the Veil in the sky. I respect and trust the actions of the Left and Right Hands in declaring the Inquisition. I believe you can do great things, can right this mess, and so I would join you and lend you what aid I can."

Cassandra's expression opened in shock. "You wish to join us? Leave Orlais and come to Haven?"

"Yes, Seeker Pentaghast." Vivienne's eyes shifted, and she addressed Zanneth directly. "Will you have me, Lady Herald?"

Zanneth did not know what to say. She knew nothing of this woman outside of her titles, which communicated little to the Dalish elf. But Vivienne was all confidence as she stood before Zanneth, and she did not talk down to the elf, at least no more than she talked down to anyone else she had spoken to. Looking to Cassandra gave her no guidance.

Zanneth would have to decide on her own.

"I… am afraid I know nothing of you, Lady Vivienne," Zanneth admitted, hoping she struck the right tone. In the shemlen'sworld, it was best not to anger them. Zanneth had no idea how to get home from here should she find herself abandoned.

"Of course, my dear, how foolish of me. You hail from a Dalish clan, do you not? You would have little idea of titles and masks and politics. I am well versed in the politics of the Orlesian Empire. I know every member of the Imperial court personally. I have all the resources remaining to the Circle at my disposal, as the leader of the last loyal mages in Thedas. And I am a mage of no small talent." The woman's dark eyes blinked behind her mask. "Will that do, my dear?"

Zanneth blinked up at her for a moment. "So, will you be helping us from the Imperial court?"

"Normally I would be happy to act as liaison, but in this case… no. I would join you on the field of battle, and act as your liaison to the Imperial court, not the other way around."

It was Cassandra who spoke next. "That is… incredibly generous, Lady Vivienne." Her eyes shifted to Zanneth's. "She would be relinquishing her position as the empress's court mage and would be missing from court for months at the very least." Cassandra's eyes shifted back to Lady Vivienne's. "For one of your… ambition, this is generous, indeed."

"Ambition is only good for so much, Seeker Pentaghast. The Breach must be closed and the chaos must be ended. I am only sad that my fellow courtiers cannot see this. I feel no guilt in leaning on my connections to get the Inquisition what it needs, however."

Zanneth cocked her head to the side. It sounded like the perfect deal. Gain one person with many connections to others. They would have food, clothing, weapons and soldiers and training. But Zanneth knew that one rarely gained all that without some price. Among the People, yes, it might be so – whatever benefited the group was offered free of charge. But with the shemlen it was not so. There had to be a price.

But Zanneth could not find it.

"I mean no disrespect whatsoever, Lady Vivienne, but all of this is new to me," Zanneth started, eyes flashing to Cassandra's for approval. "Could I perhaps have a private moment with Seeker Pentaghast? To discuss what this could mean for the Inquisition, of course."

To her surprise, Lady Vivienne smiled. "Of course, my dear. I will go check on my guests. Just let the servant on the other side of the door know when you are ready, and she shall fetch me. And please, do partake of refreshments while you talk." The mage then clapped her hands, and servants appeared through the door, laden down with several trays of food and drink with the most appealing of scents to the still-thin elf. Then the mage and the servants alike were gone, and it was just Cassandra and Zanneth, standing by the table on which the food had been laid out.

Zanneth's eyes met Cassandra's. The warrior smiled softly, holding out her hand. "By all means, eat. I would see you put on more weight. Especially since there is a ship waiting not very far in our future."

Zanneth shuddered. "Don't remind me." Taking a deep breath, she moved forward, loading a platter full of steaming vegetables, hunks of meat, and a single small loaf of bread. She did not want to push her luck, not after Bull's warning back in Haven about bread and milk.

Cassandra merely poured herself a glass of wine, going to sit on a divan by the window.

"What do you think?" Zanneth asked, tearing in to her food. They hadn't yet ordered food back at the inn, then the fight broke out. She had not eaten since a small pittance that morning, and she was famished.

Cassandra shrugged. "I think it is a very good deal. I know no more than you about Lady Vivienne – she plays her cards close to her chest and she always has – but I think the offer is genuine."

"But shem always want something," Zanneth mused, narrowing her eyes in thought as she chewed.

"That is what you call us. Shem, shemlen. What does it mean? It sounds like an insult."

Zanneth's eyes met Cassandra's, her heart dropping into her stomach, warmth flooding her face. "I…" She sighed. Curiously, Cassandra did not look angry, however. Taking a deep breath, the elf tried to explain. "It means 'quick children'. It is what we call humans. It is not inherently negative, but given our experience with humans over millennia…"

Cassandra nodded, taking another sip of wine. She struck quite a figure, sitting in armor, armed to the teeth, and sipping delicately at a glass of wine. "It has developed a negative connotation due to your mistreatment by the various nations of men. I can see this. But tell me. Do you think of me as one of these?"

"No!" Zanneth exclaimed, incredulous.

"But I am human, am I not? What makes me different from those you insult with this word?"

"You are not as they are! You have been good to me! You do not hate me for the fact that I am an elf."

Cassandra merely nodded again. "But tell me. Has anyone mistreated you for being an elf? Back in Haven, that is. Not here. I know the clerics had words regarding that."

Zanneth thought back. "No… After I awoke the second time… I have received nothing but kindness from your people."

"Our people, Zanneth. They are our people. We all serve the same cause: to close the Breach, and to find the one who caused it. You serve this cause, I serve it, and Sera, the one you call 'flat-ear', serves it as well – all out of our sense of duty to the people of Thedas. All her people: elves, humans, dwarves, and even qunari. We work to save them all. I will work to ensure no one calls you 'knife-ear' or worse. But that effort is undermined when we insult others. Especially you, as Andraste's Herald. Whether or not that is true, others look to you for guidance. You are our figurehead, whether or not you chose it. As the one that can close the rifts… you represent the Inquisition as a whole. In public, at least, I ask that you act as though you do not see the race of those around you. You may think whatever you wish privately, but appearance, as loathe as I am to say this… is everything."

Coming from anyone else, that lecture would have made Zanneth incredibly angry. But Cassandra had proven herself different from the elf's conception of humans. She was warm and safe, solid and strong, and had become Zanneth's one anchor in a chaotic world in a very short amount of time. If she could not heed this woman's advice… then who could she listen to? She could not continue to keep her own counsel. That would merely end in hopelessness once more.

"I… shall endeavor to keep an open mind," Zanneth finally allowed.

Cassandra smiled. "That is all I ask. And I apologize. You were not asking me for a lecture. You were asking me for my thoughts on Lady Vivienne's proposal. And to answer your question… you are likely right. Lady Vivienne probably wants something in return, but it is not clear what. She offers much. She is ambitious. As much as she talks of ambition only taking her so far… I think it is her angle in this. I think she will be on the lookout for how she can turn the Inquisition to her advantage."

Zanneth nodded. "So we refuse?"

"No. I say we turn her to our advantage first. She has a great many contacts with a lot of coin. We need that, both the coin and the standing of all that noble support. Let us mutually use each other. Using us does not mean she wishes us ill. It simply means she is at the forefront of her mind."

Zanneth shook her head. "This world is so alien to me. The Dalish… we do not put selfish wants above the good of the People."

"It is a noble idea. Unfortunately, it breaks down the more people you have gathered. I am glad it works in your clan. We can try as hard as we may to mirror it in the Inquisition. But gather enough people together… and you will get the selfish ones who wish to exploit those around them. It is in the nature of all people, given enough anonymity, I have found."

"Perhaps that is the key," Zanneth mused. "Anonymity does not exist in a Dalish clan. But I can see how it exists, even in a place as small as Haven."

Cassandra chuckled.

"What?" the elf asked.

"I find it funny that, so quickly, you call Haven 'small,' when before yesterday, it was the biggest village you had yet seen. Discounting Jader off in the distance, I suppose."

Zanneth's face flushed. Instead of responding, she merely took another bite of her abandoned meal. She would call for Lady Vivienne when she had finished eating.

Leliana watched as a face she had not expected to ever see clarified in the distance.

"Ser Cauthrien?" she whispered, incredulous.

"Do you see someone you know?" Josephine queried, standing with the spymaster at the gate to the village to welcome the recruits King Alistair had rounded up for the Inquisition. Filou crawled over her shoulders, occasionally batting at the curled locks of hair that framed the ambassador's face.

Leliana shook her head. "Ser Cauthrien. A former loyal of Loghain's. She… defected, I suppose. Saw the man for the madness that had overcome him and became loyal to the king in the end. Her loyalty was hard-won—she had a lot to prove—but she has managed it. But now she is here…I wonder why."

"The king's reply did say we would receive some familiar faces," Josephine ventured. "Perhaps hers is what he meant?"

Leliana shook her head again. "I suppose. It would be like him to treat it so lightly, like a joke. He and Solona are truly brother and sister in that way."

"They were wardens together, were they not?"

Leliana smiled. "Yes. The last two in Ferelden during the Blight. Solona recruited more after, but Ferelden's Grey Wardens have always been few in number. Right now I do not believe they number more than two dozen. It is how they prefer it. Quality over quantity. They make up for it by leaning heavily on their reputation after the Blight, and the treaties compelling others to aid them in time of need."

"And why did she leave the Order, again?"

Leliana pursed her lips, looking back out over the frozen lake to those approaching. The she spoke of was… bloody. Yet more blood on the Left Hand. "Weisshaupt did not approve of her decisions during the conflict at Amaranthine. They took umbrage to her survival after the Blight, as well, I think. They condemned her and her decisions, branded her particular form of magic as coming from demons, as blood magic does, and sent forces to oust her. Rather than be the cause of more bloodshed, she placed Ser Oghren in charge and we… left."

That was not all true. Leliana had slaughtered those who had come to take Solona into custody. But she felt no need to say this to Josephine.

She looked back down to see the ambassador's gasp. "That is horrible! She is a hero! And they ousted her by force?"

"Weisshaupt has long been secluded. It is far from Ferelden, its rules harkening back to the ancient times before the Chantry. Mages are feared. Solona had recruited more than the single mage allowed per branch of the Order, and coupled with that… they feared her, I think. But it is all right. She did her duty to the Order. We stayed with King Alistair until Divine Justinia summoned me. You… know the rest, I suppose."

Josephine nodded. "It is… regrettable she will miss tomorrow."

"Maker, don't remind me. She is missing so much," Leliana murmured, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "I try not to be angry. But… I am angry, Josie. Yet I long for her. It is a strange set of emotions to experience at once."

"But if you did not long for her, if you did not love her... would it anger you that she is not here?" the ambassador asked.

Leliana blinked a few times, considering her friend's words. "I… suppose it would not."

Josephine smiled. "Then perhaps try to remember that when you do not wish to be angry? It is based in love, all of it. And that… is not such a terrible thing."

Leliana smirked. "Such wisdom, from someone so young!" she exclaimed. "You constantly prove that I chose correctly in our ambassador, Josie!"

"Then why was that silly test required?" Josephine asked, an eyebrow raised.

"I needed irrefutable proof, my dear Josie. And you provided it so beautifully."

Josephine hmphed. "You could have simply asked. Leading me in a wild chase to provide recompense for an overcharge you engineered…" She shook her head. "I am grateful we are together again, however. Even if it is in a place with so much mud."

An image flashed before Leliana's eyes, of when she first met Josie, at the small Chantry in Valence. "To think of how we met… And now we are to celebrate a wedding!" Leliana proclaimed, looking past Josie to where Revka stood next to Cullen, her arm in the crook of the elbow of his severed arm. It spoke of just how comfortable he was with her, that he would let her touch the physical sign of his weakness and still be perfectly at-ease, even among his troops. Despite Leliana's first impression of the man all those years ago at the Ferelden Circle, he was clearly a competent, well-rounded, strong individual now.

"Yes," Josephine agreed, nodding and smiling. "I am truly happy for them. And I imagine children will follow soon?"

"You think?" Leliana said with a raised brow.

"I am not an idiot, Leliana. Children almost always follow on the heels of a hurried wedding."

Leliana hummed, noncommittal. She would not give away Revka's secret. Her growing belly would give that away soon without the spymaster's flapping lips.

"Fine. Keep your secrets. Time will tell if I am right," Josephine said, smiling and shaking her head. "For now, we should greet the new troops."

Leliana shook her head. "I am afraid I cannot."

"But… your friend?"

Leliana reached out, allowing Filou to jump into her waiting hands and crawl up to her shoulder. "I will seek her out later, when we will have privacy. There are simply too many people right now."

Josephine frowned slightly. "If you say so…"

Leliana turned, heading back into the village, Max and Bella joining her without instruction.

It was several hours before she left her "office" - an open-air tent in the courtyard outside the Chantry. King Alistair and Queen Elissa had sent more than a thousand people, though they had not all arrived that day. They were volunteers, and because it was Alistair who sent them, Leliana could be assured that they had not been pressed into the Inquisition's service. From the reports they had brought with them, some were simple villagers, some were farmers or servants, and more than half were soldiers or squires from the king's own service. Not all would serve their armed forces, but that was actually a good thing. With the Inquisition's numbers expanding the way they were, they would need new servants, workmen, cooks and other laborers as well as soldiers. A house without a foundation fell quickly. Alistair, bless the man, had known that and recruited from every social stratum.

Honestly, the only thing that gave Leliana pause were the nobles' younger sons and daughters who would be trickling in, trying to make a name for themselves with the Inquisition. Leliana did not have the time for baby-noble hand-holding. They had to close the Breach. But she just knew someone would come in, see that hardly any of the leaders here were of noble birth, and try to press their own authority. As if the Inquisition were a nation that put any stock in their noble births. Perhaps Max and Bella would have a second duty, in addition to acting as the spymaster's ears… namely, taking down a minor noble's child a peg or two.

Leliana went walking through Haven, stretching her legs after so many hours bending over her makeshift desk of crates. Max and Bella walked with her, Filou riding this one out upon Bella's shoulders. The kitten was growing, constantly bothering Leliana or the dogs for play, getting bolder in his wanderings. But always if he was scared - which was often, as he was still a baby - he came scampering back to Leliana and curled up in the pocket of her cloak. At night, he slept curled up with one of the dogs or went wandering the Chantry teaching himself how to hunt the rodents which plagued the larder. Hopefully he would soon make himself useful in that regard. Their few mages who had taken refuge with the Inquisition – a fair number of them with facial branding similar to Solona's - were not too keen on being asked to take care of pests.

Yet one more thing Solona would laugh about before shouting them into service.

The camp was crazed with the arrival of so many at once. Tents were being pitched wherever there was room. Latrine ditches were being dug in the frozen ground, away from the village proper. Cookfires abounded, and their existing servants and laborers were hard-pressed to keep up. Those who had arrived were already being folded in to the schedule, the routine, so as to keep up with the suddenly gargantuan amount of work that needed to be done. The soldiers and recruits, too, pitched in to accommodate the newcomers.

Josephine and Revka would need to act swiftly in order to assure they could feed and outfit this now-thriving village properly. Leliana had no doubt they could manage.

Off in the distance, Leliana could see a tall, stocky outline bearing a two-handed greatsword upon its back: Ser Cauthrien. Smiling, she spoke quietly to Max. "You see Ser Cauthrien, Max? Go fetch her, boy."

He chuffed and trotted forward. The years had slowed him down, whitening his muzzle and making fighting as a war hound no longer possible. But his mind was still every bit as sharp as it had ever been. He was happy to lie around and observe, and to paw at Filou when the kitten wanted to play. And he was happy to do these kinds of chores for Leliana when she needed. He lived to serve his master, and Leliana had long ago been one with Solona as far as that particular role was concerned.

Leliana watched Max come to a halt and lift his head, his mouth opening in what she assumed was a chuff. The broad-shouldered woman in the distance cocked her head at Max, and then both were looking over at Leliana. The spymaster inclined her head in invitation. The figure in the distance dismissed herself from those she was speaking with before following the mabari back to Leliana.

"Lady Leliana?"

Leliana let the corners of her lips turn up at the corner. "Ser Cauthrien," she greeted, holding out her hand.

The knight took it, shaking enthusiastically. "I knew you were with the Inquisition, but I had no idea you were actually here," she said. Her face was a bit rougher than Leliana remembered from her time guesting with the king. Her skin was marked by small lines, from the sun and from age. Her long brown hair carried signs of age with a single grey streak at one temple, twisting through its utilitarian braid in an altogether attractive manner. Cauthrien couldn't have been much older than Leliana herself? Surely no older than Cassandra, who did not yet bear grey in her hair at forty. "Is your paramour here, as well?" Cauthrien asked, briefly looking around.

Leliana shook her head, extending her now-free hand to indicate Cauthrien should walk with her. "Solona is… missing.," she said simply. She did not wish to get into it at the moment.

Cauthrien looked appropriately remorseful. "I am truly sorry to hear that."

Leliana nodded before changing the subject. "How fare the king and queen?"

"They are well. The queen is with child."

"Again?! This will be their sixth, will it not?!" Leliana exclaimed.

Cauthrien smiled, shaking her head. "Yes, it will. We are lucky to have rulers who are so fond of each other, truly."

Leliana smirked. "Indeed. Imagine; six children before thirty…"

"If life had gone more normally for either of us, I imagine we would know what that is like," the knight pointed out.

"True." Leliana walked quietly for a time. Cauthrien had always been a woman of few words. Leliana had grown into a woman of few words with her deafness. It was a comfortable silence for them both.

Finally Cauthrien slowed, getting Leliana's attention. "I was so frightened when that hole appeared in the sky." Leliana could see the ethereal green light reflected in the warrior's eyes as she stared up toward the Breach. "Nobody knew what had happened. The king nearly led an army here to see what was amiss - he knew it hovered over the Temple, knew it was something to do with the Divine's Conclave. Myself and Master Zevran managed to dissuade him, and a few days later, your message arrived. It was… good to hear you had survived. But Leliana. I know you were utterly devoted to our late Divine. You knew her personally. I cannot say I feel a great loss at her passing, but you, and with your paramour missing…" The knight took a deep breath, downturned eyes looking down into Leliana's. "I am sorry for all you have suffered."

Leliana smiled, one of the few genuine ones she had expressed since the Conclave. "Thank you, Cauthrien. I am not alone here, though. I have friends, and Solona's sister, Revka. She will be marrying on the morrow, actually. It will be good to have a reason to celebrate."

Cauthrien smirked. While they had not been close, Cauthrien and Revka had known each other in Alistair's court. "Yes, I have already heard the tale. It sounds as though they are quite fond of each other, though. That is good. After all that has happened… it is good to see two people come together in joy."

Leliana nodded. She agreed, wholeheartedly. It was just… difficult to muster enough enthusiasm. The source of her own joy was gone, had been gone nearly two years and incommunicado for months. We should be celebrating this together, dammit. You are missing everything, Solona! But she could not fall into that. She would never pull herself back out if she allowed it to swallow her. So instead she changed the subject. "You are the highest-ranking military mind coming to us from Ferelden. Have you met our commander yet?"

"Yes, I have," Cauthrien answered, allowing the change of subject without so much as a raised eyebrow in curiosity. "Though I do not think my knighthood impresses him."

Leliana shook her head. "Yes, I am afraid we already spoke of how we worried for the lesser nobility who might show up and expect to have some kind of authority here merely because of their birthright."

Cauthrien nodded. "Yes, I figured it might be something like that. I shall endeavor to not be a spoiled little shit, and hope that it is enough to convince him of my abilities," she finished with a smirk.

Leliana chuckled. "Honestly, Cauthrien, with so many raw recruits, I expect it will be clear to him very quickly who he can rely on and who he cannot. Just be yourself, and thrash anyone who steps out of line. Though one word of caution… do not assume he cannot handle someone who might challenge him simply because he only has one arm. Even one-handed, there is only one person he consistently cannot beat, that I have seen."

"I would not deign to assume such things," Cauthrien assured her. "He would not be placed in command here were he not capable. But… since you mention it, who is the one person?"

Leliana's smirk turned wry. "Cassandra Pentaghast, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of two Divines, and the woman who declared this Inquisition."

Cauthrien's lips pucked in what Leliana could only assume was a low whistle. "That is one hell of a final challenge. I would love to meet her, try my own hand."

Leliana turned to keep walking. "I imagine in several weeks you can. Though for the moment, she is in Val Royeaux with the Herald, seeing to business for the Inquisition."

"That is right! I almost forgot about this alleged Herald of Andraste. Tell me of her?"

"I am afraid I do not know much about her personally. But I can tell you what has happened here so far…"

Josephine watched with a smile on her face as Cullen and Revka bowed out of their own festivities early. No doubt they had more pressing business as newly-wed husband and wife, alone in their cabin. They were adorable, giddy and smiling throughout the entire ceremony and barely touching their food at the celebration after. As they hurried off, Josephine was sure that if Revka was not yet pregnant, she would be very, very soon.

The thought widened her smile. The Inquisition's leaders could do with more sources of joy. And new life, lovingly created, was the very epitome of joy.

The area outside the Chantry had been transformed into an outdoor theatre of celebration. There were tables laden with food and drink, music played by a minstrel who happened to have been in Haven for the Conclave, dancing, and general revelry. And it was not confined to this area, either. Indeed, it seemed the entire village of Haven was half-drunk, singing and joyous shouting lifting from all quarters, seen and unseen. Clearly, the people needed any excuse to celebrate, to laugh. Watching their commander and ambassador, whom most of them had only just met the day before, get married seemed a good enough excuse for most.

Josephine, of course, was personally very happy to see the two wedded. They had been about this dance for months, and she, Cassandra, and Leliana could see the writing on the wall from the start. It had only been a matter of time. Two weeks after informing Josephine and Leliana of their plans, Revka and Cullen were now wed. And very clearly happy.

It did make the ambassador feel a little lonely, however. It had been long since she had shared any intimacy with anyone. Coy flirting at court was of course the norm, but unlike most of her countrymen, Josephine was not passionate and extroverted, preferring a good book alone by the fire to going out and getting drunk and embarrassing herself. Or perhaps that was her noble upbringing? She did enjoy the parties of the Orlesian court. It was only since arriving in Haven that Josephine had felt truly out of place. She simply did not know how to fit among the people who looked to her to secure their coin, food, and equipment.

It was easy for Revka, who was born common and raised to her position. She also had a rather extraordinary family, between the Hero of Ferelden and the Champion of Kirkwall. Revka knew how to mix with anyone. Josephine did not. She could not make herself go out and mix with the general population. She took her meals privately and stuck to her friends in Leliana and Revka.

It was quite a juxtaposition. One boiling hot, ecstatic about her marriage, the other ice cold due to grief and the rigors of her position.

It did not help that Josephine herself did not quite know where she stood just yet. The Inquisition was not a nation, so her nobility might mean little. The Divine had seen little value in traditional rank. Her Right Hand was a princess who cared little for her title, her Left Hand a commoner without a family name - as was the convention in Leliana's birth nation of Ferelden. Josephine had been chosen as the Inquisition's ambassador for her skill and "painful integrity," as Leliana had put it. Her noble status mattered not to the Divine, whose greatest objective had been change. But Josephine's noble birth and upbringing had given her the tools she used so well as a diplomat.

So, still, Josephine did not know where she stood. She could only take comfort in the intimacy of friendship for the moment. It would not do to dally in anything more than that with the villagers or common soldiers. She outranked them, and that would be a gross overreach of her influence. Even if she did not force the issue in truth, it would look very bad.

Surely you are getting ahead of yourself, Josephine, she lectured herself. You think of a possible lover, but you have yet to have a meaningful conversation with anyone who is not in some manner of leadership position. Do you really think yourself so much better than those non-noble? So distant from them? You are a noble in name only. Another year like the last few, and your family will be forced to sell the estate and take up trades in town. And then no one will care who you become intimate with.

Josephine sighed. It might be a relief, to just let them fall and be done with it. Then at least she would not have to try so hard to hold the thinning threads of her family name together. But as tempting as it was, she could not do so. Not yet. She had something up her sleeve. She just needed the name of the Inquisition to grow a little more, for the chaos to settle a little more, and she would be able to reach out to her contacts and reestablish trade in Orlais. Trade in Orlais would reestablish her family's reputation, their wealth, and allow them, over time, to recoup their lost lands and holdings.

She could not give up just yet. She could not do that to her family.

"Surely a frown such as that has no place at such a joyous celebration?"

Josephine started, turning her head sharply to find one of the soldiers who had arrived from King Alistair's ranks standing only a few feet away. Something was familiar about her. The woman was taller than Josephine, though that was easy enough to accomplish, as Josephine was only slightly taller than Leliana. She already wore a tabard of the Inquisition over a leather jerkin, wool trousers tucked into calf-high boots. She had the bearing of a warrior-born, carrying herself with the easy confidence Josephine associated with Cassandra. Her shoulders were broad, her clothes not hiding the bulk that likely came from wielding the monstrous sword on strapped to her back. Her skin was pale, and her plaited hair likely brunette, though all that was truly visible of the color in the firelight was the streak of grey woven into it, originating at her temple.

Josephine could not remember who this delicious-looking creature was, but she intended to find out.

What were you saying about not becoming intimate with the common rabble?

"Perhaps there is no place for it here," Josephine began, smiling slightly. "But I am afraid my mind was very far from here."

The soldier nodded, selecting her drink - surprisingly, a glass of wine - and moving away from the table. Her steps took her to Josephine's side, though a respectable distance away, and then the woman turned, gazing out upon the raucous dancing and flirting and general revelry of the square. "Alas, our minds often do that to us. We see someone else's joy, and it reminds us of our lack. Our loneliness. How we miss our families or how we don't yet know anyone in our new assignment."

It hit rather close to home for Josephine. But she did not wear her thoughts on her sleeve. Likely the warrior had said such things because she herself was feeling them, and not because she could see Josephine could feel that way. "And do you miss home? You speak of new assignments…"

The warrior woman smiled, more a grimace, and nodded. "I do not mean to suggest I am here against my will; I volunteered to come here. But I was in Denerim a long time. I already miss the camaraderie of having known the men and women I served and served with for years."

"Did not many of those participating in this revelry serve with you under the king?"

"They did, yes. But I enjoyed a… unique position among the king's guard."

Josephine nodded in understanding. And was quietly thrilled. "You are a knight, then?"

The woman smiled. "Aye, I am." Her features abruptly rearranged, communicating her dismay. "Forgive me! The wine seems to have left me bereft of my manners!" She held out her hand. "I am Ser Aisling Cauthrien, knight in the court of King Alistair and Queen Elissa Theirin of Ferelden."

Josephine took her hand, smiling. Yes. Yes, this is good. This is the knight Leliana pointed out earlier. Now I recognize her. She considered the woman before her for a moment, admiring the line of her silhouette against the firelight. A knight is minor nobility. Perfectly acceptable. "I am Lady Josephine Montilyet, formerly Antiva's ambassador to the Orlesian Imperial Court and current ambassador for the Inquisition."

Ser Cauthrien smiled, releasing Josephine's hand. "A pleasure. And now we can never use our full titles again, yes?"

Josephine laughed. "It is more than a mouthful, isn't it?"

The knight's laughter joined hers.

"So, Ser Cauthrien," Josephine said, using the woman's formal address – they were not yet so familiar as to use their given names. "You were knighted by the king? Is there some tale of your deeds I might hear?"

Ser Cauthrien smiled ruefully. "It will be a grander tale if you hear it from someone else's lips, my lady."

Ah, so skilled at this formality, Josephine thought, pleased. I do wonder what she thinks of me. It was her who struck up the conversation. But perhaps she is merely being friendly? Flattering her should give some clue…

"Please, Ser Cauthrien," Josephine pleaded, batting her eyelashes for good measure. "I am sure a beautiful, dignified warrior such as yourself tells it best." The ambassador truly did appreciate the single streak of grey at the knight's temple. Dignified was exactly the word to use.

Cauthrien's face flushed in the low light, from the moon and torches and bonfires alike. "You flatter me, my lady." Josephine silently did a dance of victory. "But I cannot refuse such a simple request from a fine lady such as yourself. If you would be kind enough to accompany me on a stroll through the village?" Cauthrien added, holding her arm out.

Josephine took the offered arm, her own face flushing. She had never gained the attention of a knight before, not in her current position. She gained the attention and favor of many as a bard, but she was not being herself then. This small thing meant so much more than all those sordid affairs combined. "I would be delighted for the company. And the story," she added pointedly.

Cauthrien smiled. "It was a plot by the former queen, Anora Theirin. The young royal prince and princess were kidnapped, and I… well, in the end I rescued them."

Josephine was astonished. "That was you?!"

Cauthrien nodded as she walked. "Yes."

"Well now I must hear the full tale!"

The knight shook her head, indulging Josephine with a modest smile. "Very well. It was while the queen was carrying the third of the royal children…"

Josephine settled in for the story, happy to have the warm, solid presence at her side. Nothing would happen this night. She was not playing at bard any longer, was not here to perform a seduction. Perhaps nothing would ever happen. But just having someone to speak with, after so long isolated with only her two friends for company, would more than suffice this night.

The Herald's party stayed with Lady Vivienne for a little over two weeks. For Cassandra, the waiting chafed, but there was nothing to be done for it. The First Enchanter had preparations to make, staff to bundle up and send to the de Ghyslain estate proper, messages to send, people to bid farewell to in the city itself, and magic to weave. Cassandra did not know what spells Vivienne felt compelled to cast in preparation, and she did not ask. Magic users were her domain to oversee in terms of keeping the world abomination-free. Short of that, Vivienne could bewitch a handbag to store her entire library all she liked.

For the others, the time seemed welcome. Bull made immediately for every tavern in town. He was not welcome to bed down there, but he could spend his coin on ale and cards all he liked. His coin, not Inquisition coin. Varric did much the same, though Cassandra had stumbled upon him at a writing desk, with quill to page, more than once in the common room connected to all their bedchambers. Sera would disappear at all manner of strange hours, presumably on Red Jenny business. Solas spent all his time in Vivienne's extensive library, occasionally speaking with the woman herself of arcane subjects.

Zanneth spent much of her time alone. She was gaining weight rapidly, which made Cassandra very happy, though she worried over all the brooding the elf was doing. She offered once to take Zanneth out into the woods surrounding the estate for a hunt, but the elf had said she was tired, then continued staring out the window. Following her gaze told Cassandra it was the Breach and Haven that had her attention. What thoughts troubled her? Her dead brother? Her slain husband? The poor woman...

After those two weeks, they were finally ready to leave. The ship took longer in this direction, for which Cassandra apologized profusely to the poor seasick-prone elf, but Vivienne had a potion for the girl to try, and it worked. Zanneth still did not eat much of the food available to them on the ship, but she also did not heave down anything she tried ingesting. Now they were finally on land. Reclaiming their horses and escort of soldiers outside Jader, Zanneth's horse now going to Vivienne while Sera doubled up with Bull on his massive horse, they set off immediately. Cassandra was eager to get back. She had sent news on to Leliana, of course, but there was only so much one could say and trust to a courier or pigeon. She should have taken one of Leliana's specially-trained falcons. Confidential messages could be trusted to those animals.

Having Zanneth so close, quite literally in Cassandra's arms, was playing with her sense of decorum. Having seen the woman naked and gained some fondness for her, she now noticed details she missed the first time. For instance, in addition to leather and oil, the girl smelled of woodsmoke and pine needles, even though she had not been in the forest for many weeks. Her hair was lengthening, nearly of enough length to cut for style now, and so bright in the sunlight that one could barely stand to look upon it. Zanneth's shape was filling out, her lean muscles visible bunching through the light linen she wore under her leather jerkin and tabard when she moved. The elf was a ball of heat sitting between Cassandra's legs, and she had taken the nasty habit of leaning into Cassandra, allowing a physical familiarity that surprised the Seeker, given her initial reservations around humans.

You are attracted to the Herald. The nagging voice in her head took on Leliana's lilting croon.

Nonsense, she argued, furrowing her brow even though her argument was internal. I am not attracted to women.

Yes, you are. To this woman, at the very least.

What is there even to be attracted to? She is small. She is not as strong as me. She is an elf, for Andraste's sake!

And yet the way those tattoos frame her creamy skin… you could not keep your eyes from it. You sought it out as you shared a room, nonchalantly trying to peep as she changed her clothes or bathed. You cannot lie to yourself, Seeker. You were the first person you learned to seek the truth within. You like her heat, you like her body against yours, and you like that you have shared quarters and a bed these many weeks.

It is pleasant to have her trust me so...

"Didn't you say you were going to teach me how to steer this beast on my own?" Zanneth's voice interrupted Cassandra's internal argument.

Forcibly calming her suddenly racing heart, Cassandra nodded. "That is true, I was. I forgot. I apologize. Would you like to be shown a few things now?"

The elf nodded, her bright-white hair bobbing at the bottom of Cassandra's vision. She placed her hands in the Seeker's once more, just as she had that first day riding, and Cassandra felt ridiculously like she had the Dalish hunter's heart in her hands. This is laughable. I am not attracted to her.

You can say it as often as you like, Seeker Pentaghast. That does not make it true.

I was not looking at her body. Her tattoos are exotic. Anyone would look.

Why are you trying so hard to convince yourself, Seeker? What is so wrong with attraction? Is it that she is a woman? An elf? Is it that she does not believe? Is it that she could actually be sent by Andraste, as a non-believer?

Pick one. Any will do.

You have been with one person in all your life, Cassandra. The cadence of Leliana's voice in her head became teasing. And you did not find him attractive at the start, either. How do you know you cannot be attracted to her because she is a woman? You never experience attraction at first glance, and you do not grow close enough to anyone to experience it after closeness is achieved.

Fine. But the other reasons remain valid.

Are they valid? Or are they simply convenient?

"Cassandra?"

The Seeker shook her head. willfully putting aside her nagging thoughts. "Sorry. Yes. You hold the reins like this. Make sure never to pull back too hard, as it will simply saw at the horse's mouth. No one wants that outside of a true emergency - it irritates the horse, and if you are not skilled, he will be much more likely to throw you."

"Throw me?"

"Yes. The animal can rear back onto two legs and buck his body to throw you from him. A skilled horseman can keep his seat and bring the animal under control, of course, but it takes many years and much practice to reach that skill. You are no such skilled horseman."

Zanneth nodded. "Okay. So you pull back slightly to slow or stop. How do you get the animal moving? Increase his speed?"

"A simple flick of the reins and possibly a click of your tongue will make him move from a standstill. If he will not - perhaps you have an ill-trained animal or he thinks he can get away with not listening - you can dig your heels into his sides. Though be careful, especially if you have riding boots on, as this will make him run from the get-go. Inexperienced riders kick too hard and are thrown from the sudden speed."

Zanneth nodded again. "Okay. I think… I think that is enough information for now."

"Try it," Cassandra suggested. "You can decrease and increase his speed. Just try not to get over-enthusiastic." The Seeker wrapped her arms around the elf, ignoring the way her heartbeat sped up at the closeness of the non-embrace. "I will grip you and the saddle horn in case you send him careening off into the distance. I will not be thrown, and I will keep you in your seat."

Taking a shaky breath, Zanneth gave the reins a far too exuberant flick, and, predictably, the horse responded by jumping into a gallop. Zanneth let out a yelp, pushing into Cassandra's embrace, which reflexively tightened around her, keeping her from falling.

Bull's voice suddenly rang out over the landscape. "Lookout! You're headed right for it!"

Cassandra looked up, her heart falling down into her belly as she took in the scene ahead: a rift was open, demons and inhabited dead bodies prowling the winding mountain path, readying themselves for the approaching party.

Zanneth's left hand flared to life in her lap, the elf crying out in pain. Cassandra could feel the heat burn her own hand as she scrabbled for the reins. They were headed for it.

They were headed right for a demon-swarmed Fade-rift.

Maker preserve us. We are not prepared.

A/N: Aaaaaand a cliffhanger. Sorry! ~ducks~