The look on Alistair's face nearly broke the Warden's heart. In truth, she felt like going back into the shabby little shack and murdering that awful woman who called herself Goldanna, and whom Alistair claimed as a half-sister. She'd been aptly named, for gold was all she asked for when she saw the gleaming plate that her bastard prince of a brother wore. Something told Athadra that the man wouldn't like what she had in mind, though, and she sighed. "Everyone is out for themselves, Alistair," she said lightly. "You should learn that."

The prince-come-Warden heaved a sigh. "I...suppose so," he admitted, looking from Athadra to Leliana, who nodded surreptitiously, and back again. "Should we go get Sten and find this Marjolaine character?"

"Sure," Athadra replied. "We can...talk about it later, if you like." She looked to the bard. "All of us." Despite the half-Orlesian's frequent declamations about the Maker, especially in the pitch of battle, Athadra could not begrudge her the affection Alistair seemed to share with her, and the Warden had no desire to come between them.

When they both nodded, Athadra turned and led them around the edge of Denerim's market square. She was in her full Warden glory, just as Alistair sported his brother's royal armour, so most of the guards gave them a wide-enough berth as they made their way to the gate of Eamon's estate. The domicile was a touch more modest than his castle at Redcliffe, but still held barracks enough for the troops they'd brought into the city, though Athadra's party had to share two large sitting-rooms for their quarters. She found the Sten sitting cross-legged in the corner of her own room. "Enjoying yourself?"

The Qunari opened his eyes and regarded the Wardens evenly. "It is not as defensible as I would like," he admitted, "but it will do."

Athadra swept a look at the stone walls and high windows, unable to guess at the source of the Sten's complaint. "It's been nigh on a week since we've killed something," she lamented; the raid she'd led into the Hinterlands after her conversation with Eamon had hardly counted as sport, much less battle. "Would you like to remedy that?"

"As you wish, Kadan," the Sten replied, and rose to join the two Wardens and Leliana.

Following the late would-be assassin's directions, Athadra counted doorways from the South gate of the square until just before a wall rose up to turn the row into a blind alley. "Do you think this is it, Leliana?"

The woman took a breath. "I do," she confirmed. "I can feel it." She worked at the lock for over a minute before it clicked open, which only seemed to steel her resolve. Athadra had no time to reconsider, since the moment her companion opened the door, two enormous Qunari mercenaries with stunted horns accosted them. The battle was all too brief; the Sten and Athadra could have taken them in paired combat, but with Garahel and Alistair and a few well-placed arrows from Leliana, the horn-headed guardsmen didn't stand a chance.

A tall woman with jet-black hair and a fancy silk dress stood waiting for them in the main room of the house, seemingly alone. "Leliana!" She called in an Orlesian accent even thicker than the orange-haired bard's, spreading her arms expansively in welcome. "I knew you would come to me finalement."

Leliana stepped forward, though her bow was only half-drawn. "You sent a squad of assassins after me! Of course I came!"

"Oh, them?" The woman-whom Athadra guessed was the dreaded Marjolaine-scoffed. "Four or five unfanged dogs. I trained you too well, tu le sais." she said, pride lacing her voice. "They were sent to give you cause to seek me out-and see? Here you are."

"Why, Marjolaine?" Leliana's bow angled toward the ground even further, but Athadra's blood whispered, sensing magic behind the closed doors to either side of them.

The Orlesian woman's expression shifted subtly, a brow arching. "You know that, too, my little flower. You have information which you could use to ruin me, if you so chose."

"I wish I did not," Leliana lamented.

Marjolaine's laugh was low and sultry, and the woman dared to take a step closer. "Come now, mon enfante. Did you really think I would believe that the Seductress of Val Chevin had thrown off the life in exchange for peasant clothes and prayer?" She shook her head, almost sadly. "Hair ragged and messy like a boy's...this is not you, Leliana. And so I watched, and waited. You nearly had me fooled after so many months with no obvious correspondence, but then you disappeared so suddenly."

The Warden grunted a laugh. "Everyone disappeared from Lothering suddenly...whether they wanted to or not. At least Leliana decided to stand against the monsters what burnt the village to the ground."

Marjolaine's honey-flecked eyes gave Athadra a pitying glance. "Do you really think so?"

Alistair spoke up. "Ask all the hurlocks she's killed," he suggested, testily. Something in his stare made Athadra think that he knew more about this woman and her history with Leliana than the Warden herself did.

The Orlesian's throaty laugh sounded again. "And all with her bow, n'est-ce pas? Who do you think trained her to shoot, or to use those daggers at her back?" Marjolaine shook her head. "I also taught her to tell anyone what they want to hear, to make the right friends...to kill her enemies just when they think they've won. I would trust nothing she says, if I were you." Those amber eyes settled on Leliana. "You will use them, my sweet, and when they've served their purpose...you will gut them in their sleep and disappear. Such is what I would do."

Leliana drew in a breath, and Athadra spied tears lurking at the corners of her eyelids. "I'm not like that anymore," she protested. "I'm not like...you."

"Au contraire, mon enfante," the Orlesian insisted. "You are me. No one will understand you like I do, because you and I are the same...we play the game-within-the-game, using other players as our pawns. Do not deny this; you were a master manipulator, as I am. You cannot change that for all the prayers in the world."

"You are wrong," Leliana hissed, the tears falling openly down her cheeks. "I do not want to play your games anymore. I don't care that you framed me for your own crimes...just leave me alone."

Marjolaine clicked her tongue, her head turning from side to side. "You know that I can never do this, cherie. I will never be far from you, for as long as you live."

Athadra stepped sideways, with a meaningful glance at the Sten. "Unless you predecease her," the Warden suggested, drawing Starfang from over her shoulder.

The raven-haired woman cackled, stepping back. Leliana looked confused for a moment, but then shook her head resignedly. "You've left me no choice," the former lay sister sighed. "Marjolaine...I'm sorry." She lifted her bow.

"Maintenant!" The woman's call heralded those two doors opening, and the mages who'd set Athadra's senses to tingling tried to douse the intruders with living flame.

Alistair reacted instinctively, stilling one with a Holy Smite. He gasped when the move actually worked and the targeted mage staggered back, but Athadra lost sight of him as she launched herself at the remaining magical foe. Like his partner, he was an apostate, but didn't seem to be a blood mage; when the Warden used her own mana to cancel out his with a Mana Clash, he nearly fainted. She took advantage of his stumble with a great swipe of her sword, which cleaved into his shoulder and stuck itself in the twin barriers of his spine and sternum. Cursing, Athadra drew her daggers to engage with the Qunari mercenary who'd been waiting behind him.

The horn-head fought her stubbornly, but eventually she toppled him, and by the time she yanked Starfang free of its fleshy scabbard, Athadra saw Leliana's daggers slip into Marjolaine's abdomen. The older woman looked affronted for a heartbeat, and then shocked.

"Com...comment pourrais-toi?" The Orlesian's voice gurgled. Athadra could smell the blood on her breath, but she resisted the urge to pull it from the woman.

"Easy," Alistair supplied, drawing King Maric's gold-embossed blade across the pale woman's throat. She fell and jerked for a few moments, but Athadra ambled over to watch the light fade from her eyes.

"She's gone," the Warden pronounced, looking back at Leliana. "Let's go, before Howe's men get wind of this."

"We're covered in blood anyway," Alistair pointed out. "Surely someone's going to notice us."

Athadra arched a brow. "I...think I can fix that," she ventured. "But you won't like it."

The other Warden's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "It's going to be you-know-what, isn't it?" When the elf nodded, he threw up his hands. "Go ahead, then. Just...don't do it again, at least not where people can see."

Athadra swallowed and closed her eyes, running Starfang's blade across her palm again. The blood staining their armour and weapons was fresh enough to call out to her, and she carefully drew it off of her companions. Their own living blood sang even more temptingly, but the Warden resisted. Her veins throbbed in pleasure as the still-warm life drew into her wound, and she couldn't repress the smug turn of her lips. Not even the half-concealed horror of her two human companions could dull the pleasure of her deed. "I'll never get tired of that," she sighed.

"You've done this before?" Alistair looked ready to run straight to the Chantry for sanctuary.

"Once," the Warden admitted. "And I'll do it again...just to savour the look on your face." She winked and put up her blade; it was spotless, just like their armour. "Now let's move."

Later, after supper, Athadra met the two of them in Eamon's bedroom to talk about what they'd both learnt that day. The Warden leaned against the wall by the door, waiting for one of them to speak. Both Alistair and Leliana looked disturbed, though she guessed that neither were still perturbed by her light use of the forbidden art.

The bard cleared her throat. "I can still hear her laughing at me, claiming that I'm just like her." She was sitting on the bed with her legs crossed, and she looked guiltily into her lap.

Athadra shrugged. "She were a spy. Probably thought you'd be out of practice when she sent the men, and she said whatever she thought would get her out of that house alive."

"And yet," Leliana continued, looking from her to Alistair and back again. "What we've done-hunted men down, killed them. Part of me loves it. I can feel myself slipping..."

Alistair looked ready to speak, but Athadra pressed on. "I saw you take pleasure in taking on Loghain's men in Lothering," she said. "Just as I saw you relish stealing Marjolaine's life today. Maybe she were half-right." The Warden breathed a sigh. "For what it's worth, I do trust you...as much as I trust anyone. I know Alistair trusts you more than that."

"That's right," the other Warden affirmed.

"I would still hunt you down if you ever betrayed him," Athadra warned; her lips curled into a smirk to soften the threat. "But you shouldn't punish yourself for doing something you love, despite what the stern old women in sun-robes tell you."

"I..." Leliana swallowed with some difficulty, and returned the Warden's smile. "I do miss the game," she admitted.

Athadra nodded. "And Alistair will need a seasoned player when he takes the crown, with Anora by his side."

"Exactly," Alistair concurred, though his face spasmed a split-second later. "Wait...what?" He stood up from the bed. "Where did you get that idea?"

The Warden laughed. "Do you want to be king?"

Alistair's lips parted in surprise at yet another unexpected turn. "I...well, Eamon certainly-"

"To the Void with Eamon," Athadra shot back...though barely above a whisper, in case he or one of his servants stood listening. "To the Void with Ferelden, when it comes to that. What do you want?"

The not-quite-templar's mouth worked for another moment, before he sighed. "Yes," he exclaimed at last. "Maker forgive me, I do want to be the king. I've...wanted it all my life, I think, but everyone's told me that it's no use even trying."

Athadra barked a laugh. "Shows them," she said. "Anora's been queen for five years or more. I met Cailan once...and once were all it took to tell me that he's only ever played at ruling."

Leliana spoke up. "It is said that Queen Anora is the steady hand that has kept Ferelden stable after King Maric disappeared," she said. "It...would honestly be a good match."

"But..." Alistair's lips turned down in a rare frown.

"She could be your Maitresse-en-titre," Athadra suggested, which caused Leliana to blush and giggle.

The taller Warden raised a brow. "My what-in-the-Maker's-name, now?"

The bard scooted closer to him. "It's an Orlesian term," she explained. "It means you'd be able to...have your cake, and still have a pie on the side." When Alistair's shock turned to skepticism, Leliana sighed. "It's done all the time, honestly. King Cailan probably had half-a-dozen mistresses, if the rumours are true."

"Could be why Anora hasn't popped out an heir," Athadra observed.

"Indeed," Leliana concurred. "While you'll have just the one," she said a bit forcefully, though she winked.

"I'll think about it," Alistair conceded. "If...if you're both alright with it," he said, directly to Leliana. "If I decide to marry her," he added, with a glance to Athadra. "She is Loghain's daughter, after all."

The Warden shrugged. "It'll make accepting you easier at the Landsmeet. If need be, you could arrange an accident afterward." Her eyes flickered to Leliana for half a heartbeat. "Just think about it," she pressed. "It's your decision, Your Majesty." Sarcasm dripped from the title as she presented it.

"I suppose it is, isn't it?" Alistair breathed a laugh. "I will," he promised. "Think about it, at least."

Athadra nodded. "Do that." After a moment's consideration, she continued. "Do you want to talk about Goldanna?" Alistair opened his mouth to speak, but he must have caught sight of her eyes darting to Leliana.

"Er...no, not really," he said at last. "I think I'll be okay."

The Warden gave a final nod. "Try not to muss the arl's bed too much," she admonished them, before slipping through the door. She went off in search of Friga; the Avvar mage had been delighted to accompany Connor to the capitol, and the Warden wanted to let her see the marketplace without fear of the roving templars.