With thanks to my beta reader, WellspringCD, and to all who continue to read, especially those who review. You make my day!
The going along the West Road was slower than Fearghal would have liked. The stream of refugees heading towards Denerim was growing steadily larger. There were virtually no travellers heading the other way, which earned Fearghal and his group many curious looks.
Zevran had made several attempts to engage Fearghal in conversation, but the dark-haired warden was brooding and morose, merely responding in grunts at best. Fearghal's eyes swept the road restlessly, coming to alight on Alistair and Leliana every few minutes.
"Zev, would you mind moving up to the front with Leliana and asking Alistair to drop back here, please?"
For a moment, Zevran wondered if he'd irritated Fearghal with his chatter, but there was no heat in the warden's words; his eyes continued to sweep the road, as if he was distracted more than anything else.
Fearghal watched the assassin make his way up to the front of the group and speak to Alistair. Alistair looked back at him, then moved to the side of the road, waiting for the rest of the group to pass. Fearghal slowed his pace, letting the rest of the group pull ahead a little.
Alistair looked at him curiously as they drew level. "Is something wrong?"
Fearghal walked with him for a few moments before replying. "I'm not sure," he admitted, frowning. "What do you make of Leliana?"
"How do you mean?"
"Well, you usually take your watch with her. You must talk; you know, to pass the time."
Alistair groaned. "Shoes, hair, ribbons, then more shoes. Did you know that there was a noblewoman in Orlais who decorated her hair with live birds?"
Fearghal stared at him and Alistair smirked. "Yeah, I stopped listening at that point. I usually do the meditation exercises they taught us at the monastery to pass the time."
"You make her sound like she's one Archdemon short of a Blight!" muttered Fearghal.
Alistair burst out laughing. "Maybe... but more in a 'Ooh! Pretty colours' kind of way than 'Muahahaha! I am Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!'"
Fearghal stopped and blinked at Alistair, then sniggered. "Princess Stabbity?"
Alistair blushed. "You know what I mean," he muttered. "Actually, sometimes, when she thinks no-one's looking, she just looks so... so sad. It makes me wonder if we did the right thing, taking her away from her life."
"It was her choice." pointed out Fearghal. He hesitated before adding, "And that's what bothers me."
"Why?" asked Alistair.
Fearghal glanced towards the group making sure they wouldn't be overheard. "It hadn't occurred to me until I re-read Howe's letters. He mentioned Orlesians bards. It just made me think, that's all. We know practically nothing about Leliana apart from the fact that she's from Orlais."
"Are you serious?" spluttered Alistair.
"I don't know," admitted Fearghal. "It just seems odd. She pops up out of nowhere, a chantry sister of all things! She's obviously skilled; she's not as good as Zevran with daggers, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone who could match her with a bow. She can certainly pick locks better than Zevran can! I'd love to know what she was up to before Lothering."
Alistair snorted. "Here we are, travelling with an Antivan Crow and you're worrying about Leliana?"
"It's not the same," argued Fearghal. He caught Alistair's sceptical look and scowled. "That I spent the night with Zevran has nothing to do with it. The simple fact is that we've known what Zevran is right from the start, he made no secret about what he was. If he was still hoping to collect on us, he's had ample opportunity to kill us, me especially."
"Maybe Loghain wants us alive? A nice show trial followed by a public execution to keep the masses distracted." blustered Alistair, feeling a little guilty that Fearghal had read him so easily.
"I doubt it. Anyway, Zevran could have betrayed us in Denerim if that had been the case."
Alistair held his hands up in defeat. "I take your point. I don't like him much, and I'm still not sure I trust him but, I agree; if wanted to betray us he could have done so by now."
Fearghal walked on a little way, then glanced sidelong at Alistair. "Why did Leliana want to join us?" he asked, as casually as he could.
"You don't remember?" Alistair asked innocently.
"Not exactly," mumbled Fearghal, refusing to catch Alistair's eye. "I was a little... under the weather."
"Under the weather?" Alistair burst out laughing. "As I remember it you were legless! Pie-eyed; three sheets to the wind; paralytic, falling down drunk!"
"All right, Alistair, I was drunk. There's no need to go on about it!" grumbled Fearghal. "Just tell me what she said."
"Weeeell," drawled Alistair, "she said that the Maker had told her to come with us."
"Oh, ha ha. Very funny. What did she really say?"
"That's what she said; honestly, Fearghal," Alistair assured him.
Fearghal peered suspiciously at Alistair. "Please say you're joking." Alistair shook his head and Fearghal groaned. "The Maker told her to join us? Andraste's tits! What was I thinking?"
"You could hardly stand up, let alone think!" snorted Alistair. "As I recall, you were most enthusiastic. Welcomed her with open arms."
Fearghal did a double-take at him, looking horrified.
"No! I don't mean... literally." Alistair blushed, suddenly flustered. He changed the subject. "Anyway, do you really think she's a bard?"
"I have no idea," sighed Fearghal, "but I think we need to know more about her. You stay back here and I'll send Zevran back."
Alistair suppressed a groan at the thought of spending the rest of the day listening to Zevran's sly innuendoes and subtle jibes at his expense as he watched Fearghal move up to the head of the group.
The Antivan joined him, grinning, then feigned a look of exaggerated hurt. "Oh, Alistair, you wound me! Please do not look so disappointed."
Alistair just shook his head and rolled his eyes. He watched Fearghal walking with Leliana, stooping slightly, deep in conversation.
Zevran followed his look. "So interested in Leliana, all of a sudden. He is a mysterious man, our warden."
For reasons he didn't really want to examine, Alistair bristled at Zevran's description of Fearghal as our warden. Before he could reply, Zevran continued.
"Fearghal is always telling me that 'I am not his type', but surely not Leliana."
"You seemed close enough to his type the other night," snorted Alistair before he could stop himself. He winced; giving the elf an opening was always a mistake.
Zevran looked up at him, smiling. "Ah, that was you on the landing? I hope we didn't disturb your rest."
"Not at all," muttered Alistair, hoping that would end the conversation.
"You must be a heavy sleeper, my friend. I fear Leliana gave me a severe telling off for making too much noise and disturbing her sleep. Of course, when I explained to her that Fearghal is an extremely ardent and accomplished lover she was most understanding and kind enough to forgive me." He glanced sidelong at Alistair. "As I'm sure you are aware, Fearghal is a very sensual man."
"What?" squeaked Alistair. "Why would I be aware of any such thing?"
"Oh? I just thought that with the two of you sharing a tent, that maybe..."
"You know very well it's not like that!" retorted Alistair, trying not to let Zevran get under his skin.
Zevran shook his head and sighed sadly. "That is indeed a shame, Alistair. Truly, you do not know what you are missing. Like I said, Fearghal is a very sensual man. He is very good with his hands, very... bah! What is the word? He likes to touch, to be touched... tattile... "
"Tactile?" suggested Alistair faintly.
"Yes, tactile! That is the word. He is also very talented with his mouth. Truly, it would have been impossible to remain quiet under such... attention. Still, I am glad that we did not disturb your slumber."
"That's quite all right," murmured Alistair weakly, lost in a daydream of what it might be like to be on the receiving end of Fearghal's attentions.
~o~O~o~
"How did you like Denerim, Leliana? How does it compare to the cities in Orlais?" asked Fearghal.
"Oh, it is not so grand, but I liked it. I hadn't realised how much I missed the bustle of a city. There is always so much going on." Leliana smiled up at him. "My mother was from Denerim, so it was interesting to see where she grew up."
Fearghal couldn't hide his surprise and Leliana smiled again. "It was before the rebellion, of course. She was a lady's maid to an Orlesian noblewoman. After the rebellion, the lady returned to Orlais and my mother went with her. I was born in Orlais but have always considered myself Fereldan."
Fearghal wondered idly who Leliana's father had been, but it seemed impolite to mention it.
" Mother died when I was very young. Lady Cecilie let me stay with her. I had no one else. She was quite old then, and she had me study music and dance to entertain her. It is unfair, that I have more memories of Cecilie than my mother."
Fearghal felt a pang of guilt. He had so many memories of his own mother, yet he could hardly bear to think of her. He turned his attention back to Leliana, aware that she was speaking again.
"Strangely, the only thing I really remember of Mother was her scent. She kept dried flowers in her closet, amongst her clothes. Small, white Fereldan wildflowers with a sweet fragrance. Mother called them Andraste's Grace. They were very rare in Orlais."
Roses... Mother always smelled of roses. Father always said she smelled like a garden... fresh air and roses.
"How did you end up in Lothering? Fearghal asked. He was only half-listening as Leliana explained how she had come to be there and then went on to talk about her life in the cloister.
His mind wandered as he remembered how his mother had loved roses. Her rose garden had been her great passion, her pride and joy. She'd spent hours out there, in all weathers, cutting, grafting and pruning. He remembered being very small and squatting down in the loamy earth, watching her work. Her obvious pleasure as she'd explained what she was doing and why. He remembered being told off for swatting in panic at a hoverfly, thinking it was a wasp.
She had pointed out to him the different insects in the garden and told him that some were good, like ladybirds and hoverflies and that they helped control the ones that harmed her precious roses, like the greenfly. He remembered her delight when he and Fergus had pooled their funds when they were boys and bought her a bottle of rose oil for her birthday; how father had written the letter to Denerim for them to order it. Fearghal almost stumbled as a rush of grief swelled up inside him.
"Are you all right, Fearghal," asked Leliana, her face full of concern.
"Sorry! Not looking where I was going," mumbled Fearghal. They walked in silence for a few minutes before Fearghal cleared his throat awkwardly. "When you joined us... you... er... you said that... "
"That the Maker had sent me?" asked Leliana. She nodded. "I believe he did."
"Why?" asked Fearghal, unable to hide his curiosity.
Leliana looked faintly embarrassed, then began to explain. "I had a dream... In it there was an impenetrable darkness... it was so dense, so real. And there was a noise, a terrible ungodly noise... I stood on a peak and watched as the darkness consumed everything... and when the storm swallowed the last of the sun's light, I...I fell, and the darkness drew me in... "
"I don't understand," said Fearghal, frowning.
"The dream was not all. There's more... When I woke, I went to the chantry's gardens, as I always do. But that day, the rosebush in the corner had flowered... Everyone knew that bush was dead. It was grey and twisted and gnarled, the ugliest thing you ever saw, but there it was, a single, beautiful rose. It was as thought the Maker stretched out His hand to say: 'Even in the midst of this darkness, there is hope and beauty. Have faith.'"
Fearghal grunted. Hope was something he barely understood any more. There was only duty and vengeance; he was filled with fervour for the latter and a grudging acceptance of the former.
Leliana looked at him knowingly. "I suppose you find that hard to understand. It's all right. I know what I know, and no one will ever make that untrue."
Fearghal felt flustered at her flash of insight.
"I heard that in Orlais, minstrels are often spies," he said, trying to change the subject. He didn't miss the guarded look that came into Leliana's eyes.
"Oh? Where did you hear this?"
"I don't remember," replied Fearghal shrugging. "Howe's letters mentioned a bard and it reminded me."
"Not all minstrels are spies, most are just singers and storytellers. But some of them are... are what we call bards." Leliana's voice was level, her eyes fixed upon the road ahead.
"I thought minstrels were bards." Fearghal was confused.
"Bards are minstrels, and more. Spies, as you say. Some say there is a bard order, but I don't think this is true. Many bards work alone, or in small groups, doing the bidding of a patron who pays for their services." Leliana's voice was matter-of-fact, aware that Fearghal was watching her intently.
"Patron? What sort of Patron?"
"Nobles, mostly. In Orlais, there is much rivalry amongst the high-born. They fight over land, influence and the favour of the empress. But they cannot do this openly, because it is impolite..." Fearghal snorted scornfully. "... and in public they wear smiling faces and pretend to be civil. In secret they plot and scheme to destroy each other. It is a game completely meaningless to anyone but its players."
"You seem to know quite a lot about these bards," Fearghal said, not bothering to hide his suspicion.
Leliana sighed heavily. "And I should, shouldn't I, after having spent most of my adult life as one. You've guessed as much, I'm sure. But does it really matter what I was? What's past is past."
"If it is truly past, but why were you living as a cloistered sister in rural Ferelden?"
"I... found myself in Ferelden and sheltered from bad weather in the chantry. And when the storm passed I just... did not want to leave. I like to say the Maker brought me here."
Fearghal studied Leliana, trying to decide if she was lying. She had admitted readily enough that she had been a bard, but Fearghal felt worried that she had offered up the information too easily. On the other hand, she had been living in Lothering's chantry for some time. It was hard to conceive of a plot that had been set in motion so far in advance, at least one that concerned him or Alistair or any of the Grey Wardens.
Her conviction when she had spoken or her vision had rung true. While Fearghal didn't believe it for one moment, he was sure that she did. The quiet fervour that had underlaid her words put him in mind of Mother Mallol. He frowned, pushing the thought away. Too many ghosts. He still had the nagging sense that he was missing something. I can almost understand how Father and Loghain felt.
He looked at Leliana. "Very well, I'm prepared to accept that you are telling me the truth." His eyes hardened. "Don't let me find out that you've lied. Alistair and I need to be able to trust those that travel with us; too much depends on us."
Leliana's eyes widened and she nodded. "I understand."
~o~O~o~
Wynne yawned and announced her intention to retire. Morrigan set wards around the camp and retired to her own fire, as usual, while Sten disappeared into his tent saying that he needed to meditate. Leliana rummaged in her pack and produced some locks that she handed to Zevran, suggesting that he practice his lockpicking skills in his tent.
"But it is practically black in there, my dear. I will not be able to see," he protested.
"Exactly," she told him. "You should be able to open them by touch alone."
Leliana waited until Zevran was in his tent, then approached Fearghal. "Could I speak to you alone, Fearghal?" she asked quietly, with a surreptitious glance at Alistair, who was half-asleep by the fire.
"If this is about our conversation earlier, then Alistair knows. If you have anything further you need to tell me, then he should hear it too," replied Fearghal.
Leliana hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Fearghal reached over and shook Alistair's arm. "Alistair. Leliana needs to talk to us."
Alistair's eyes flew open, then he grunted and moved closer.
"So, Leliana, what else do you need to tell us?" asked Fearghal.
"I-I didn't tell you everything. About why I left Orlais." Leliana's eyes flicked nervously from Fearghal to Alistair, then back again.
"Why not," asked Fearghal.
Leliana lowered her eyes. "I didn't want to talk about it. It... it's not easy but... what happened to me... maybe it will affect us, maybe not, but you should know."
Fearghal looked over at Alistair, who merely shrugged back at him.
"I came to Ferelden and the Chantry because I was being hunted, in Orlais. I was betrayed by someone I thought I knew and could trust." Leliana paused, then took a deep breath and continued, her voice trembling. "M-Marjolaine... she was my mentor... and friend."
Haltingly, Leliana told the tale, about how she had been sent to recover some documents and, having recovered them, realised that her mentor was selling Orlesian secrets to other countries; how she had feared for her mentor and spoken to her about it only to be turned in to the authorities and made to look as if she was the traitor.
Leliana's face clouded as she related her harsh treatment, alluding to torture and other things that made both men flinch. Alistair looked flustered, torn between embarrassment and sympathy, while Fearghal's eyes hardened, memories of Oriana and the other women who had been abused at Highever threatening to rush in. Steadying herself, she told them about how her skills had been useful when an opportunity to escape had presented itself. She had seized her chance and fled to Ferelden, seeking refuge at Lothering, grateful to put her old life behind her.
"And that is the reason I am here. The real reason," finished Leliana, her eyes flicking nervously between Fearghal and Alistair.
Fearghal sighed and rubbed his face. "Thank you for trusting us with this. It can't have been easy."
Leliana gave a wan smile. "No, but it feels good to have this off my chest. Thank you for listening, and understanding." She slumped tiredly and Fearghal realised just how hard it had been for her.
"Go and get some sleep," Fearghal told her.
"B-but I'm supposed to be on first watch with Alistair," protested Leliana.
"I'll do it. Zev can take second watch with Bane for company," Fearghal assured her.
"I... thank you. Good night." She turned and crawled into her tent.