Leliana awoke with the sun. It had only been a few weeks since Solona's return, and she was still not accustomed to it being real. But when she opened her eyes, there was her lover, sleeping soundly, mouth open, a slight rumble in her chest letting Leliana know that she still snored softly when she slept.

This is real. This happened. She is here.

It was her constant refrain, every morning, since Solona's return. She breathed deeply, taking in Solona's scent. Wrapped in the mage's arms, she did not need to reach out to feel her, but still she pressed subtly with the pads of her fingers, waking the nerves in her hands so she could touch as much of her lover as possible.

It was a morning ritual. Perhaps one day she would not need it, but now, more than ever, more even than when she had initially gone deaf, she needed to reassure herself, to ground herself in the world around her.

She had spoken at length with Dorian and Fiona the day before. Leliana had finally come to see why Solona had accepted Dorian, and not killed him. She could see that he had made a mistake; that he had erred and tried so desperately to fix it. She had seen that he was only acting as an agent for the true monster, Alexius. His attitude didn't help, of course, but Leliana could see right through it. It is difficult to sass a deaf woman, she had thought to herself, even as the man had continued to speak.

Underneath the sass, Dorian was terrified, covering it with well-placed – but false – bravado. His eyes kept ticking to Leliana's face, then to the dagger that Solona had given back to Leliana. But he also regarded the spymaster oddly, some other emotion mixed in with his fear, and it had taken her some time to place why. But, of course, when the answer came to her, it made sense. He had seen that future. He had seen what his actions had wrought, what had happened to Solona, to Leliana, and more importantly to all the world. Keeping that in mind as he explained himself, Leliana had seen that he genuinely had switched allegiance; that he was attempting to help undo the mistakes he had made while following the orders of his master.

And really, who was she to blame him for being made desperate out of love? Or for following his master's orders? Had she not done both under the tutelage of Marjolaine?

She would not like him, would not be his friend or even do more than not kill him, but she could let this go. She would treat him how Solona continued to treat Ser Cauthrien. Cauthrien wasn't truly at fault, but as Loghain was dead, Solona released all her pent-up rage on the knight every time she thought of the damage done to Leliana. And Leliana would do the same to Dorian. She would not abuse him. But she wouldresent him. It was safer, and more accessible than being angry with Solona, or even with Alexius.

And when the time came to convict and execute Alexius, she would enjoy watching his body hang in the stiff breeze that ever blew in Haven. Not as much as she might enjoy plunging her weapons into his flesh herself, but still she would take what satisfaction she could from it.

The argument she and Solona had the evening before weighed heavily on her mind, however. While everyone in the Inquisition might now know that she was deaf, it did not worry her. Plenty already knew and could tell others, and a deaf accent sounded like an Orlesian accent, anyway. Her true weapon was that she might be deaf, but she might also not be. No, what weighed on her was how she had hurt her lover by expecting superhuman feats from her. Solona could do much, she knew. But Solona could not do everything, and to voice that in front of everyone… she had deeply hurt both of them with those expectations.

They had made love after, soothing the hurt they'd caused in each other, soothing the fear and the anger and reaffirming their love and their trust. It was not completely fixed, of course. That would take time. But now… now they had it. She had her lover back, her lover who made love to her each night, who held her and let her weep and who swallowed her joyful cries with the kisses of one starved. Leliana honestly didn't know whose need was greater – they both needed each other, and had not yet reached the easy equilibrium they had shared for eight and more years before Solona's disappearance. Leliana looked forward to its return. It wouldn't look precisely how it did before – much had happened for both of them – but still they would grow easier with each other than they were now.

A gentle pressure pushing into her backside made her squeal. Solona was awake instantly, sitting up, alarm clear on her face before looking past Leliana and grinning. The spymaster twisted to find Max had pushed his nose into her rump. He now sat, pleading eyes upon them, throat moving in such a way to indicate he whined.

She giggled. "I think perhaps the old man cannot hold it like he used to, and needs to go outside," she suggested.

Solona, ever the gentleman, was the one to climb out of bed into the chill morning air of the cabin, walk to the door, and open it. Both dogs bounded out and the cat bounded in before Solona rejoined Leliana in bed.

Leliana immediately snuggled into her lover's shoulder. Another soft tap got the former bard's attention, and when she looked, she saw that Filou was already settling in on the peak of her hip. The cat and Solona had come to an uneasy arrangement that involved each ignoring the other. So far, it seemed to be working, though she could still feel the mage stiffen whenever Filou moved.

It nearly made Leliana laugh, though she was careful not to do so aloud. It was a sore spot for Solona, and while she enjoyed teasing her lover, it was an excellent way to make the snuggling stop, which was not what she wanted at the moment.

They merely lay together, not bothering to talk, as that would require separating. Indeed, they lay together, occasionally dozing, occasionally kissing, for some time, until Solona told her that someone knocked upon the door. Reluctant, Leliana parted from her lover, finding clothing so she could accept the morning meal that had been delivered to her every day since her arrival in Haven. It was the one luxury she took for herself, to not take her meals in the tavern like everyone else. It was too painful to be in there and not be able to hear anyone, to not hear the music of the minstrel, to not know what all her companions said to each other because she could only read one set of lips at once. And it wasdangerous – there was usually too much going on for her to feel safe without her hearing.

After eating, the two parted. Leliana grabbed her bow. She had made a decision after listening to the Herald's tale, and wished to do what she could for the elven woman, who had sacrificed so much for them. That Leliana had had a difficult time seeing that until Solona's return was painful to face, but she was an adult and would not hide from her shortcomings anymore. Solona brought out the best in her. When Solona was not near, those parts of herself had slowly been buried. It had been self-preservation, but still Leliana did not wish to live like that any longer. She had need of her icy shroud while she did her work. But at other times, she could stand to let it fall from her shoulders.

To her surprise, she found Zanneth out in the courtyard, near where Mother Giselle sang the Chant, as she did every morning. For a moment, all Leliana did was watch. Solona was in the crowd, listening, as was Cassandra. Solona did not typically prefer Chantry services, but with her return to the world, she felt the need for the peace offered, and Leliana could not begrudge her that. Maker knew she used to derive much calming of her inner turmoil when she listened to Dorothea sing the Chant to her, all those years ago.

Cassandra was present at every service, always, unless she was on the road and unable to attend. Cassandra's was a quiet faith, but rock-solid. She spoke of the Maker's plan, the Maker's will, and knew the Chant by heart, but it did not often come into conversation unless it was relevant. But it was always in the back of her mind, Andraste's struggle, the Maker's plan for the world, and, more recently, how to make the Chantry more accurately represent Andraste's initial intent.

Leliana envied it at times. During her darkest moments, after Justinia's death and with Solona missing, the only thing that had kept the Left Hand clinging to her faith – by the very tips of her fingers – was that she had been shown this eventuality. She had been shown the image of herself, wearing the symbol of the Inquisition, though she did not know it at the time. In the vision, her hair was long, as it was now, she held a set of prayer beads and a sword, and she wore the very vestments she had been presented with as the Left Hand.

A vision some time before that had shown her Solona's face.

She was meant to be here, with Solona, doing the work she was doing as both a servant of the Maker, and a perpetuator of darker deeds.

She had been literally shown the Maker's plan for her. And during her darkest hours, that knowledge was the only thing that kept her from abandoning all of it altogether. And perhaps that was why it was shown to her: because she would one day need that memory in order to keep doing her work. Perhaps that was also why she was shown Solona's face. Because Leliana very much needed her love in order to keep doing this work that took such a terrible toll on her and her conscience.

Zanneth stood some ways off, not part of the crowd surrounding Mother Giselle, but close enough to hear, if Leliana was any judge, deaf as she was. The elf stood in the leather uniform of Cullen's scouts, arms crossed over her chest. A standard-issue shortbow was strung over her back, as well as the short sword she had become so much more familiar with since she was last in Haven, and a quiver full of arrows. At the small of her back was her hunting knife. The proud Dalish elf was every inch the hunter, and it seemed she had learned her lesson. Even here, in Haven, she now protected herself.

It made Leliana a little sad. In her clan's camp, such a thing would not be conceived of. What a harsh reality this must be for the woman, to be "home" and yet still fear attacks like those from Threnn. The woman was dead, and yet still she had left a nasty little legacy, visible in the scars upon Zanneth's cheek and in her chosen manner of dress.

The Dalish elf was relaxed, however, crossing her arms merely to relax them. Her white hair shone in the sunlight, much as Solona's did. Her ears cut through the hair – shaggier by the day – and made a perfect point just past the line of her scalp. Truly, she cut a handsome figure, and Leliana could see what attracted Cassandra to the Herald.

Perhaps not everyone would call the elf's profile a handsome one, as it was elven and therefore inferior. Leliana had no patience for that kind of thinking. She used it to her advantage when she must, yes – any card when playing the Game ought to be exploited when possible – but she despised those who believed so deeply that they were somehow superior to those of other races.

They were all people, floundering about, trying to carve a place for themselves in this world. Did pointed ears and a shorter stature truly denoteso much difference?

Leliana finally decided to break her silence. She was unsurprised to see Zanneth turn to her almost as soon as she began walking: elves, in general, did have far superior hearing to humans and would hear the spymaster's footfalls when a human would not.

"Hello," the elf greeted, eyes guarded.

Leliana smiled. "Good morning." She came to a stop several paces from the Herald. "I admit, I would not expect one of the People to be listening to the Chant of Light."

Zanneth shrugged, but kept her lips visible to the deaf spymaster. "It is pleasant. Mother Giselle's voice is deep and rich. It is beautiful to listen to. And…"

"Yes?" Leliana prompted.

"I miss stories," the elf finally said. "Cassandra said you are familiar with a Dalish clan in Ferelden?"

"Yes, that is true."

"Then you must know how important stories are to us. I… I do not know that I believe them as fact, but this song of Andraste is compelling, as a story goes. Besides that, she speaks of the People when she speaks of Andraste." She shrugged again, as if to say that it was as simple as that.

Knowing what little Leliana did of Zanneth, it was as simple as that.

"I understand," Leliana said, nodding. "I miss the Chant. Even when I did not listen to the words, the chanting itself brought an inner peace that is… irreplaceable."

"You do not attend service? Did you not serve the head of the Chantry?"

Leliana pursed her lips a moment. "Yes, I did. But I can no longer hear the Chant, and I cannot read the lips of someone who sings. It is… very painful to stand in the crowd and yet still be apart from that body of worshippers. Divine Justinia used to pray with me, gesture with her hands and whisper the Chant so I could see the words upon her lips and in her hands. She was the only other person who ever learned how to communicate with me as Solona does."

Zanneth's eyes widened slightly, like something suddenly made sense. "Ah, yes. I have seen a few times and wondered. Hand signals for words?"

Leliana smiled. "Yes. It was developed especially for the deaf at a school in Val Royeaux. We went, and we learned." Her eyes flicked to Solona's tall, broad back. "One of the many ways she has shown her devotion."

"Devoted is the word I would use, yes. From what I have seen, that is the one consistent thing I can say about her."

Leliana laughed quietly. "So diplomatic! It is all right, Your Worship. You can call her for what she is. She can be infuriating! She is quick to anger and also quick to laugh, sometimes within the span of minutes. She has atrocious table manners, and refuses to play the Game of the Orlesian Court, much to the chagrin of the nobles there. We complement each other. She is many things I am not, and I would risk much to keep her that way. I would defend that heart on her sleeve ruthlessly, if need be."

"Is that why you went after Dorian?"

Leliana's eyes flashed. "Yes. That, and I had no idea that the one who captured Solona was him. I had seen his name, read descriptions of him, but I did not know he was the same man Solona described. So when I saw him… I saw only the face Solona showed me, who captured her and robbed us all of her presence. My response was nearly instinctual – I would protect my love, Your Worship. I owe her that much after all she has done to protect me, after all she has given up to be with me."

Zanneth's eyes were large, reflecting the light of the Breach. "And what has she done for you, if I may ask?"

"She set herself afire once," Leliana answered, grinning a little.

"Truly?"

Leliana nodded. "Yes. I was in danger, captured by a creature we fought in the Deep Roads, and when she saw, it was like a well of anger and power opened up within her. She set herself ablaze and threw herself at the beast."

Zaneth blinked a few times, looking to Solona before facing Leliana once more. "It is hard to believe, looking at her. She is… so easy-mannered. I have seen her with the children. There is a young man among the mages she converses with, as well as Sera. She heals our sick and injured. It is hard to imagine her so… violent."

Leliana nodded. "Yes, well. Remember that, always, yes? Even the most innocent-looking, seemingly-powerless person is capable of packing tremendous power. Look at me, and yourself. I wield a network of spies that could bring kingdoms and empires to their knees, should I but bend my will to the task. And you, well… you can close the rifts. Not a single other person can do that."

"You are right, of course. Even my own Keeper is constantly at risk for becoming an abomination, should something go wrong," Zanneth said, nodding. "Every person has the capability of causing great harm, mage or no."

Leliana nodded. "Yes. It is our choices that set us apart. And for Solona… she chose, after the Grey Wardens ousted her, that she would no longer use her unique brand of magic for battle. She would use her magic to heal, as her mentor did."

"An arcane warrior who does not do battle?"

"Oh, she does battle," Leliana clarified. "Already her body is strengthening from sparring with Cassandra. No, what I mean is that if she brings death, if she causes injury or takes a life, it is without magic. She would do it with her own hands, and she would not have her magic warped by the battle-lust. It is too easy to lose herself in revelry when she does. And she does not wish to revel in death. Instead… instead her magic is used to heal, to bring joy, and to make life easier for others." Leliana thought of their forays into the Fade. She thought of the beauty brought to their lovemaking when Solona channeled her arcane magic. She thought of all the times Solona had come home to their apartment in the Grand Cathedral exhausted but so happy that she had saved a life, kept someone from losing a limb, or helped to bring a beautiful child into the world. "It is truly stunning to behold."

Zanneth smiled, the vallaslin upon her face accentuating the curve of her cheeks and lips. "I can see the devotion is present in equal measure for both of you."

Leliana felt her face flush. "Yes. Well." She was flustered. Recover, Leliana! Why did you seek the Herald out? It did not escape her that the subject of her own love flustered her. "I actually did not come out here to speak of the Chant or of my love, though I do not mind it." She eyed the bow on Zanneth's back. "How is your replacement bow working for you?"

The elf immediately frowned. "It is… sufficient. And I am grateful that I could be outfitted so quickly, as I lost both my bow and my sword in… the other Redcliffe." Then she sighed. "But it is no longbow, and it is not of Dalish make. It falls short of what I have become accustomed to."

Leliana nodded. "I suspected as much." She unslung her own longbow from her back, holding it out. "What do you make of this?"

Zanneth took the bow. She tested its balance, ran her fingers along the carvings – birds, of many sorts – and then drew back the string to test its strength. Looking back up to Leliana, she said what the spymaster expected her to. "This is of Dalish make. How did you come to have it?"

"It was a gift," Leliana said simply, "from a dear friend, Mithra, a huntress with the Dalish clan you mentioned. It is no replacement for the bow your mother carried, but… I want you to have it."

Zanneth's eyes got very wide. "What? No, this was a gift to you, from one of the People. I can see here the Nightingale prominently carved into it. I couldn't take it."

Leliana smirked. "It is already in your hands, Your Worship." She giggled lightly as Zanneth immediately tried to hand it back. "No, please. As I was the one who robbed you of your family heirloom, I thought I should be the one to replace it. As I said, what you lost cannot truly be replaced, but… You returned someone to me I thought I had lost forever. And you lost your bow in order to do so. The least I can do is replace your weapon – indeed, as a hunter, your lifeline – with something comparable. I can get a new bow. I do not find myself in combat all that often anymore. This bow is of the People. It is meant to be used, not to be a prize upon the back of a vain, middle aged spymaster."

Zanneth considered her, eyes narrowed. Finally, she nodded, unslung the shortbow, and exchanged it for the bow given Leliana by Mithra. "Ma serannas, Sister Nightingale."

Leliana placed the shortbow upon her own back. "You are most welcome. And please, call me Leliana."

Zanneth smirked. "Only if you also call me by my name."

Leliana laughed. "You, Solona, and Alistair would get along famously simply for that! Yes, all right. In small company, when formality is not required, I shall call you Zanneth, and you shall call me Leliana. Yes?"

Zanneth nodded. "Yes."

As they sobered, Leliana watched Zanneth turn again to watch the service. The spymaster noticed something then. Zanneth did not watch Mother Giselle, as all in the congregation did. No, the Herald of Andraste watched the Seeker of Truth.

"Mala lath," she said, demonstrating more of her knowledge of the incomplete elven language by pointing out Zanneth's love for the woman her eyes rested upon.

Zanneth's head whipped around. "Pardon me?"

"It is not one-sided," Leliana said, a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. "You love Cassandra."

Zanneth looked around wildly for a moment, before she encouraged Leliana away from the group gathered in the open air to hear the Chant of Light.

They came to a stop behind the Chantry. "How do you know?" the elf asked without preamble. "Did Dorian say something yesterday when you debriefed him?"

"Oh, no!" Leliana exclaimed, shaking her head vehemently. "How does he know?"

Zanneth opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, looking perplexed. "Wait. Perhaps… we should start over?"

"I know because I have eyes, Zanneth," Leliana said, grinning slightly. "You stare at our fair Seeker with admiration and love in your eyes. That love was not present when you left Haven last. What else happened in Redcliffe? Did she say something?"

"In a manner of speaking…" The elf hunched her shoulders. "I imagine you know of her feelings…?"

Leliana nodded.

"Right. Well. In that… future that we avoided, she… I found her, and she… kissed me." The elf's face flushed as she spoke, but the words were less halting the more of them appeared. She explained all that happened, how Cassandra had kissed her, declared her love, how she had sacrificed herself for Zanneth. It was all very romantic. And very Cassandra, in such a situation.

When she was through, Leliana voiced her confusion. "If you know how she feels, and it sounds like you know how you feel… then what is difficult about coming together here and now? You can celebrate that you are both alive!"

"Will it be the same?" Zanneth turned large brown eyes to the spymaster's blue, pleading. "Those precious few hours, while desperate, were… magical. Eye-opening. I did not know what love felt like until then, until I realized that it was what I felt. What if I say something and it is not as it was?"

Leliana shook her head. "Of course it will be different, Zanneth." The elf immediately wilted. Leliana reached out, tilting the Herald's chin up before withdrawing her fingers once more. They were not close. She had not earned the right to touch this young woman freely as she did Josie or Revka, or even Cassandra. "It will be different because it will not be desperate. It will be different because it will not be temporary and doomed from the start. It will be different because Cassandra will not have tortured herself for a year by never saying anything. And it will be different because she will not have lost you and then had you come back from the dead. But 'different' does not mean 'worse.' You will not know what your second chance with her will look like until you are in it."

"I do not know… how," Zanneth said, eyebrows furrowing. "I was betrothed, but I did not love him, not how I love Cassandra. The People are not openly affectionate. I do not know what other's love looks like."

Leliana laughed again. "But of course you do! Or have you not been watching those around you here?"

"I… what?"

"Josie and Cauthrien court so chivalrously, though I doubt their nighttime forays resemble anything so polite as the face they show in public. You have myself and Solona. Revka and Cullen have such a beautiful little family blooming. Many young couples form, and carry on quite publicly, and loudly, I am told. Have you missed all of it? It is all love, at various stages, of various kinds, and it all looks different. But it is, all of it, good. For it is love."

Zanneth's gaze wandered, the elf clearly thinking. Leliana watched for a moment, gathering her own thoughts, before finally speaking. "If I might make a suggestion? Tell her. Tell her what happened in Redcliffe. The whole story, involving the two of you. Let her take the lead from there. Cassandra is one of the most passionate, romantic people I have met, despite outward appearances. She loves you, and she is incredibly sensitive once you delve below the armor of the warrior that she wears. She will know what to do from there."

Taking a deep breath, Leliana plunged on, having one more weapon in her arsenal to make this thing happen. "Tomorrow we travel to the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes to close the Breach. It has nearly killed you twice now. Who knows what will happen? All those mages, channeling magic into you, who do not have magic in your blood… it might nearly kill you again. Or it might kill you outright. I cannot say. I know enough about you to know you will do it because it must be done, no matter the risk to your life, but I ask you this: would you also risk leaving Cassandra as you found her in that dark future? Mourning a love she was never able to consummate? Give her this, Your Worship. Give her the surety, before you risk your life yet another time, that she has your love as you know you have hers."

Large eyes looked upon her, but Leliana merely turned and began walking. It was important to leave Zanneth with those words, with those thoughts. She would see this budding relationship finally bloom. They both needed the other, and were too reticent to do it on their own. Leliana was only glad she could occasionally use her powers of persuasion to bring forth joy for others.

Self-satisfied smirk pulling at her lips, Leliana walked back to the service, joining the crowd for the first time in years. She found Solona, slipped her hand into the mage's, and watched Mother Giselle, entirely too pleased with herself for what she knew would be happening by nightfall.

A/N: Special thanks to Raven Sinead, who not only betas for me, but also helps me come up with excellent ideas. This conversation between Leliana and Zanneth is a very good example of something that is made amazing when the two of us brainstorm.

Also, the elvish language I use, "mala lath," is my interpretation for what I found on the wiki, intended to mean "your love."