A/N: This chapter was difficult to write as my muse decided to take a short vacation without me, the fickle wench. I think she's sulking because she knows these next few chapters are the final ones in Leonie's saga and she doesn't want to let go. Yep, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Thank you all for your kind reviews, for putting the story on alert and for marking it as a favorite. You make my smile so much brighter!

Secrets within Secrets

Leonie slept for two days straight, a deep and dreamless sleep without pain or the calling of darkspawn or nightmares. She wasn't aware of those who took up a bedside vigil, changing shifts every few hours. She wasn't aware of Loghain crawling into bed beside her each night and holding her close to him, unable to close his eyes because every time he did he saw her die. She wasn't aware of Travis sitting and talking to her about the space between stars and her journey there and back. She wasn't aware of her mother, holding her hand and talking softly about Jader and her childhood. She wasn't aware of Anders babbling nonsensically about how adorable Mirabelle was. She wasn't aware of Sigrun informing her that she had sent word to Stig to come to the Vigil and enclosed the money that Leonie had given Sigrun for his trip. She simply slept.

On the third morning after the procedure she woke, fuzzy headed and starving, to find herself looking into Loghain's blue eyes. He quirked a brow at her. "So you've finally decided to join us again," he remarked dryly.

Leonie found herself smiling. "Good morning, Leonie. You look lovely this morning. I believe it is the way the sun strikes your lovely ebony locks," she said, trying her best to imitate Loghain. He hid a chuckle behind a grunt.

"Good morning, Leonie. You've lain about for two days, letting everyone else do your work. Nice to see you'll take up your responsibilities again," he replied, his arm tightening around her.

Leonie's eyes widened and she struggled to sit up. "Two days? Andraste's grace, Loghain, why did you not wake me sooner?" she asked, both irritated and embarrassed.

"I assure you, madam, the entire army of Ferelden couldn't have done so," Loghain replied without rancor.

Memories came flowing into her as she sat up. Excruciating pain followed by moments of such tranquility, such serenity, that she couldn't even begin to express the feelings properly. She remembered something else too, Loghain's anguished cry, his insistent voice calling her.

"I am so sorry, Loghain. I never meant to cause you such pain," she finally said when she was sure her voice would not tremble with emotion.

She reached out, running her fingers gently under his deeply shadowed eyes. He closed his eyes, a rare sigh escaping him. "Thank you for calling me back," she whispered.

"I would advise very strongly against allowing that procedure again," he replied gruffly.

His lips were a whispered promise on her lips and she closed her eyes against the hollowness in her chest, the tears in her eyes. She clung to him, aching at the thought of the pain she had put him through, all for very little gain. Her taint had slowed but only slightly. Did he already know? Did any of them?

Her mind was beginning to churn through the thoughts that had been waiting impatiently for her to wake up. Had she actually died? Or merely hallucinated? She had read somewhere that pain could induce such hallucinations. Had it all been a dream? Had she actually met with Cerida in some mystical place in the night skies?

Were the voices she had heard in the space between stars the spirits, the souls, of the first darkspawn? Were they really called the Dark Stewards? Had they existed or had she dreamt them? Were they the voice of her own tainted blood speaking to her because she had gone mad from the pain? What had they said? What had they meant by the one who came before her? Svanar? Someone else? Use his work. If they, whoever they were, had meant Svanar, she didn't even understand his notebooks. How could she use it? And why would she? Would she be helping the darkspawn or herself? They had told her to find the truth? What truth? Where was the truth?

"You once accused me of having a very expressive face when I thought no-one was watching me. The same could be said of yours. Are you ready to talk about your experience?" Loghain asked and there was that steely edge of stubbornness in his voice that meant he really wasn't asking her, he was demanding she tell him.

"I love you, my taciturn general, and I shall discuss things with you after I have eaten, yes?" she said, moving to stand up.

He pulled her back into bed, his lips warm and insistent. "A few moments of peace and quiet first, yes?" he mimicked her accent and she laughed against his mouth.

"That is the worst Orlesian accent I have ever heard," she complained, pulling his hair. He bit her neck in response and then they just held each other and didn't speak at all.


Phillipe entered the opulent private salon of Empress Celene and waited as patiently as he could for her arrival. His ship had docked an hour earlier, having arrived in Val Royeaux a full twelve hours ahead of schedule.

There had been a time when he would have worn his most elegant court clothes, rich satin or silk doublets and velvets, for a meeting with the empress but today he wore traveling clothes and he slapped his leather gloves against his leg, the only outward sign of his growing impatience.

He had expected to feel relief at being home again, at seeing the flowers blooming with a wanton beauty along the boulevards and scenting the air with a sweet musk. He was not. He had already heard the rumors that there were border clashes with Nevarra constantly now, that the contended area around the Blasted Hills was filled with Wardens and soldiers from both sides. Getting into the tunnels and finding the cache, already a risky proposition, was now doubly so. But his Lion needed him and he would not disappoint her.

Empress Celene sailed into the room with a rustle of silk petticoats and velvet skirts. The air immediately became thick with the smell of sandalwood and verbena. Her glorious auburn hair was swept up into an intricate series of loops and she wore a bright and lively smile.

"My darling boy! You have returned at last. Is the deed done?" Celene asked, tapping his shoulder with her fan in acknowledgement of his deep bow.

"Yes, Empress Celene. The letters have been destroyed," Phillipe told her as he straightened up. Her smile faded into the shadows.

"What is it, Phillipe? Never have I seen my favorite courtier so somber. Is our delicious Lion well?"

Many people over the years had mistaken Celene's ebullience and charm for an empty headed and frivolous monarch, much to their detriment. She was intelligent, cunning, and above all, observant. Phillipe had learned that long ago.

"She is dying, your highness. I must go to the Blasted Hills. That's the only hope left to her," Phillipe told his empress earnestly. He watched as Celene digested the information, her lightly painted face paling at the news, her green eyes narrowing.

"Then leave at once. Take as many as you need. I will inform Didier that he must control his men. Laurent and Leireaux are completely mad with their nationalism. I believe Laurent might be in league with Evard."

Phillipe paced the pink and gold room, frowning. "We can't allow anyone to know what we are doing, Empress Celene. There are those who wish the secrets we search for to remain secrets and there are those who would use those secrets for their own wickedness. I don't know what is in this cache we need to find but I know it is valuable."

Celene's perfectly arched brow rose and her delicate nostrils flared. "Then you must leave at once. I will send you in the company of my personal guard, at least as far as Churneau. From there, travel at night. One of the guardsmen, Francoise, looks very much like you in the proper light. He shall go with you and stay at Churneau but keep a very low profile. Armand will ensure all believe it to be my court favorite."

Celene stopped speaking and tapped Phillipe on his arm with the long ivory ribs of her fan. "Are you traveling alone?"

"No, Empress Celene. I travel in the company of a Dalish Warden who is posing as my servant."

"Tattoos?"

"Yes, your highness."

"I will send Harlhamus with Francoise as his servant. Send your Warden to me so that my artist can copy his tattoo."

Nobody played the Grand Game with more skill than Empress Celene. She attacked all possible angles and ensured the plan covered them or if that wasn't possible, she took measures to nullify problems that couldn't be handled any other way. She was efficient and brutal in her assessments and implementation. Phillipe admired her and feared her.

"I expect you to hurry, Phillipe. I shall keep the ship at your disposal and prepared for immediate departure. Kill those who get in your way."

Two hours later a group of the Imperial Guard, led by Phillipe, rode through the northern gates of Val Royeaux. Darius quietly informed him that they were being followed.

At midday, the riders stopped and ate a quick meal. Phillipe was nervous, pacing the field and listening for any sounds of an impending attack from the group following them.

Darius came to him and said with quiet determination, "I can circle back and find out who follows us."

Phillipe nodded thoughtfully. The days aboard the ship had given him a better understanding of Darius, who was extremely quiet and extremely observant. He trusted Darius, which was an odd thing for him to realize. He was not used to trusting so quickly. One did not live long within the vicious circles of the Orlesian nobility by trusting others. There were times when Phillipe barely recognized himself; he had changed so much over the past two months.

"Do it. Quietly and quickly."

A short time later, Darius returned. Two were Wardens, Darius told him and from the description, one was Laurent. The third man was small and Darius described him as mouse-like, with a drooping, wispy grey mustache and thin gray hair, small and wiry. Phillipe felt fear coil in his gut.

"That is Jean De'Montague. He is Evard's most trusted man."

The search for the cache would end in bloodshed, Phillipe knew that now. He only hoped it would be De'Montague's blood that spilled. He rather doubted it would be.


Avernus, Jarren and Fiona sat at the high table, staring at the results of Jarren's latest experiment. Was it really so simple? In the three days since the experiment on Leonie, Jarren had been testing Leonie's blood against his own, searching for a difference that would explain things. It seemed every time he was close, Fiona showed him where his calculations were off or demonstrated that his observations were incorrect. Avernus had gone so far as to remark on her desire not to find an answer. Jarren had disagreed at first but now he wondered. Was she really being honest? Was she even helping?

"Avernus, the electricity only slowed her taint by a trace amount. These figures seem to indicate that the new Joining you created mixed with the right levels of electrified blood from the Architect and Leonie could actually stop it and might even reverse it. I don't think we'd survive that combination but if you look at the way her blood pools and flows when it's mixed with your new formula, her blood reacts very differently than mine."

"That is, at best, a poorly conceived theory," Fiona interjected impatiently, sliding off her stool and moving to stand beside him. "You've only been tainted for a few months. Leonie has been tainted for twelve years. Your blood is naturally going to react differently than hers."

"Are you trying to imply that the only way we can test this theory is to find someone who has been tainted for as long as Leonie has been?" Jarren asked, knowing he sounded surly and quarrelsome, but finding her attitude more than a little annoying.

Fiona shrugged and squinted at his notes again. "I think if you add Svanar's blood with hers in any new Joining it will kill her."

Jarren shook his head, determined to show Fiona that he was right. "Yes, if we add them and do nothing else. But their blood wants to join together. That should tell you that it is meant to be joined. Their harmonics are nearly identical and I have never seen that in any other blood sample."

"You've sampled everyone's blood?" she shot back.

Avernus was glaring at Fiona and Jarren was tempted to as well. "The trouble with secrets is that they require more secrets in order to maintain the original secret. It's like telling a lie that leads to another and then another to cover that lie and soon you can't remember what the truth even is. Wouldn't you agree, Warden Fiona?" Avernus asked pointedly. He wore a twisted sneer of a smile. Jarren felt a shudder of revulsion looking at the abomination that was Avernus.

Turning, Jarren stared at Fiona, whose eyes had narrowed into dark brown slits. She looked furious and more than that, she looked uncomfortable. Jarren frowned as he watched her, wondering if Avernus had hit upon a tender spot. Jarren knew little about interacting with others, he had never had to and he found it difficult now to gauge people.

"Is that supposed to compel me to tell you some deep dark secret, old man?" she mocked tightly, her voice cold.

Avernus let out a cackling dry laugh, as brittle as autumn leaves. "I suspect nothing compels you to do anything you don't want to," the old mage said, truculent and bitter.

There was too much animosity, too much emotion, for Jarren. He preferred the quiet, sterile environment of his own laboratory. "I want to at least talk to her about the possibility," Jarren interjected into the sudden quiet. "We haven't tried that method before and we should at least see how the electrified blood reacts when placed together in Avernus's version of a Joining."

"Give her time to recover from her ordeal. That ghoul nearly killed her," Fiona snapped before turning on her heel and leaving.

Jarren was struck again by Fiona's reluctance to believe they were on the right track.


Travis was sitting in Leonie's office waiting for her when Leonie entered it later that morning. He smiled at her as she came to sit behind her desk and Leonie returned the smile.

"You saw Cerida," he stated and his smile softened, blurred.

"She was a golden light in the dark, Travis. I have never seen anything so magnificent in all my life."

Travis's smile grew at her words. "She will be a spirit guide, then. That's good."

"A spirit guide?" Leonie asked, her curiosity sharp.

Travis clucked briefly and for a moment Leonie felt a sadness in him, saw it in his expression, but then his smile returned and his eyes were bright as they met hers.

"She won't return to the mortal realm again. She has learned all she can and now she will help spirits return to the space between stars. She'll be the light in the dark for them. And when they are ready to return, she'll help them on their way."

"Oh Travis, I do not know whether to be happy for Cerida or sad for you," Leonie responded. She rose from her desk and went to sit beside her friend.

"Rejoice, Lion. I will miss her all of my days, but knowing she is at peace is a great gift. Thank you."

Leonie felt the dampness of tears forming but she gave Travis a watery smile. She sensed in him an inner peace that had not been present before, even though he had been relieved to find Cerida and had let her go, now he seemed truly happy for Cerida and the last remnants of sorrow seemed to be gone. She touched his hand lightly.

"I will rejoice then, my friend."

Travis clucked again, looking down at her hand and then up to meet Leonie's eyes once more with his oddly colored eyes. "It didn't really slow your Calling down, did it?" he asked and she found she couldn't lie to him.

"I think it did slow it down a little. Perhaps it is enough to allow for Phillipe's return," she admitted quietly, still clinging to hope. Hope, she remembered him telling her, was stronger than fear. She wanted it to be. The fear was there, waiting to pounce on her and destroy her carefully constructed hope, to devour it with sharp and ragged teeth.

"You learned something about the darkspawn while you were in the space between stars, didn't you?"

Leonie gave him a wry smile. "You are much too observant," she complained, shaking her head.

"And what will you do with this new knowledge, Lion? Will it help you? Will it help the Grey Wardens? Will it destroy them? How will it shape the future?" he probed quietly, as if he was staring into her soul, for those were indeed the questions that rattled around inside her, demanding answers when she allowed herself to listen to them.

Standing, Leonie moved about her office, hands clasped tightly behind her back. How could he know? Had she talked in her sleep? Had he visited her while she was dreaming? Did she wear them on her face? Was she that transparent? She must be. And if he had guessed at the questions, had Loghain? Did he know that her Calling had been slowed very little? What secrets were hers to keep and what secrets should she share?

Travis gave a whistling cluck and stood, his short stature seeming to grow as she stared at him. She could almost see the sleek jaguar of his spirit as he stood there watching her.

"He deserves to know. You'd want to know if your roles were reversed."

As much as Leonie wanted to deny that, she couldn't. He was right and she hated that he was. Travis, with his uncanny ability to read her thoughts, to understand her, stood smiling gravely at her.

"I shall tell Loghain, my friend," she conceded unhappily.

Loghain had been through so much in his life, so many heartbreaks and disappointments. She dreaded being the one to bring even more disappointment into his life, but he did deserve to know. She went to the door that separated their offices and tapped lightly on it, waiting for Loghain to answer.

"Come!" he called out and with a deep breath, she gathered her courage and entered his office.

He was at his desk, quill in hand. He looked at her, the question apparent in the quirk of his brow. There was more in his look, a wariness as if he knew she had bad news to share with him, a resignation that spoke of too much disillusionment in his life.

She came around his desk to stand beside him, leaning lightly against the corner of his desk. "We need to talk."

"It didn't work," he said simply, his voice devoid of inflection, as flat as the Feravel Plains.

"Not as we had hoped, my love."

He reached for her hand and held it tightly. "Did it buy us enough time for the men to return?"

"Yes," she reassured. If they hurry, she mentally added.

"What else, Leonie?"

Leonie had been wrestling with the knowledge she had gleaned from the dark spirits that had whispered to her. Was it real? If the experience had been real, were the words true? She looked at her husband, the man who had healed her heart and fought with such tenacity at her side. Who had given her not only his trust but also his heart. Surely he would be able to help her decide what should be told to others and what should remain a secret?

She squeezed his hand as if to reaffirm that he was real and solid and would understand. "I think…I believe…that I spoke with the first darkspawn. Or some kind of spirit of them," she began hesitantly.

"Go on," he said, sitting up and frowning.

Would he believe her or think her demented? He was a man who dealt with reality and this seemed so far beyond reality. Slowly, haltingly, she told him of her conversation with the Dark Stewards, as they called themselves, and as she spoke, she watched for signs of disbelief in his expression and saw none.

"Are you saying we created the darkspawn as a weapon against the Tevinter Imperium?" he finally asked when she stumbled to a stop.

"I am saying that is what these spirits believe. They think we can help them somehow but I do not see how that is possible."

Loghain nodded, deep in thought. "There are too many darkspawn to help and even if we could, Riordan told us that darkspawn are empty, soulless vessels. Even if we cure the taint in them somehow, there is nothing human in them anymore. They're an implacable enemy and they'll always be an implacable enemy."

"Hate is what truly drives them; the betrayal they feel seems to be a part of their group mind. Their hatred and sorrow, they are like echoes from those first ones. And they will not stop as long as mankind lives."

Again Loghain nodded, rubbing a finger along his lips, his sleek brow arched. "I wonder how much our resident Weisshaupt pawn knows about this."

"Perhaps we should ask her," Leonie agreed, turning to leave his office and go in search of her. Loghain's hand stayed her.

"I know it wasn't easy to tell me," he began but she smiled at him and shook her head.

"I love you, husband," she told him with a growing smile. "Telling you anything you do not wish to hear is always a risky proposition."

"Nonsense, I'm the soul of reason," he argued seriously and Leonie felt her laughter bubbling up in her.

"Most assuredly," she agreed on the crest of her laughter.


Fiona's pace quickened as she neared her room. Turning the corner she ran headlong into Alistair and nearly fell backwards from the impact but his arm shot out and a hand clamped on her upper arm, righting her. She looked down at his hand and then up into his face, unable to speak.

Alistair released his grip and grinned at her. "Darkspawn after you?" he asked, his eyes crinkled as his grin widened.

"Something like that," she mumbled, feeling strangely tongue-tied. Her heart was pounding loudly, the only sound she could hear for several seconds. It would be so easy to just blurt the truth out, to brush at the lock of hair that had fallen across his forehead. But she had no right to do either, she wouldn't add to his burdens now just to assuage her own guilt.

"Ah. I myself am going in search of cheese. It has to be time to eat by now," he explained with a boyish appeal that seemed to radiate from him.

Fiona was surprised to hear herself laugh. So he had inherited Maric's love of cheese. No surprise, he had inherited his father's easy grace and disarming smile. "I'm sure there's plenty of food in the kitchens."

She turned to leave, feeling an almost desperate need to hide from his suddenly penetrating stare.

"You're here to help Leonie, right? I mean, that's why you came from Weisshaupt isn't it?" he asked.

Fiona felt her stomach tighten and flutter. She turned to look at him and her voice was hushed when she asked, "Why do you want to know?"

"Why?" he laughed. "Because she saved my life, that's why. She cried when she had to punish me, did you know that? She cried for me. Me. The man who nearly killed her. That's why," Alistair finished and the grin on his lips had set into a certain grimness.

"You're from Weisshaupt, you know what they do to deserters. She could have done that; she could have killed me for treason and attempted murder. She didn't. She stood at the door to the Deep Roads and waited for twelve hours for me to return."

Fiona flinched at the thought of his punishment, flinched because his words bit through her skin and settled deeply inside her chest, a wound that seeped blood. "She's a good person," Fiona agreed thickly before stepping around him. "And so are you," she added softly and walked to her room.


The hawk glided on the air currents, a graceful expanse of golden brown wings, tipped by rust and ivory. Below the hawk were eight horsemen. Behind them were three more. The hawk emitted a series of high, shrill whistles followed by a low vibrating song. Continuing to glide on the currents, the hawk tipped its wings and looked below. A dozen ravens, wings glinting blue back as the sun caught them, began to fly in tight circles around the three horsemen, upsetting the horses, causing them to balk and rear.

The hawk smiled and flew on.