Thanks to the big beta stick of Suilven for helping to beat this chapter into shape (and for the chapter title)!


Pressing her back against the door to her small bedchamber, Leliana closed her eyes and took several deep breaths in an attempt to still both her pounding heart and racing mind. Footsteps sounded just outside her door, stopping at either side of the frame. Silently chastising herself, she counted her breaths—one deep, slow inhalation and exhalation after another—until she felt some of the tension knotted within her fade away.

You have been trained for years to suppress such feelings… remember who you are!

Leliana set the book and a flask of white wine she had been carrying down on the small table next to her before rubbing her face with her hands, her thoughts beginning to still to the point where she could think upon what she just heard with an analytical mind. Dorothea would be arriving soon, so having her thoughts in order was critical; much could depend on it.

With closed eyes, Leliana let her mind go back over the events of the last hour. The Wardens had just finished their evening meal and were taking advantage of the few hours of free time they had before retiring for the evening. There had been groups of Wardens scattered about the compound; some had played cards or gambled with dice. Other Wardens had retired to their rooms to read, care for their armor, or simply sleep. Still others had ventured into Val Royeaux itself, seeking out entertainment in the taverns or houses of ill repute.

As for herself, Leliana had often walked the grounds of the compound or retired to her room with a book and a small pitcher of wine after the evening meal. This night was to be no different; she had had her wine in hand and had stopped by the small library within the compound for a book. She had begun her journey to her small room when she had heard the sounds of heated voices coming from within the smaller, private dining room that was often used for entertaining small parties of visiting Wardens or other guests. She had immediately recognized one voice as that of the Warden Commander, and a second, similar voice that had to be that of the Commander's brother. Leliana's brows had lowered at the sound of a third voice, authoritative and angry sounding. Curious, Leliana had drawn closer to the door, her light footsteps almost silent as she closed the distance. The Warden Commander had been, apparently, having a dispute of some sort with his guests.

"I have a duty to the Grey Wardens," Leliana had heard Jean-René say from beyond the door. "It is my duty—and the duty of all Wardens—to defeat blights and darkspawn, not to serve your political ambitions."

"Yet you forget your place," a mysterious third voice had said. It had the sound of authority—and the sound of having orders obeyed without question. "You were told to send your men into Ferelden during the Blight and you failed."

"Yes, and I did not appreciate how my men were to be used as a convenient cover! You both were fools to believe chevaliers would be welcome on their soil, especially given the death of their King and the ascendency of the Regent."

"The chevaliers were meant to reinforce your Wardens against the Blight," the voice that sounded like the Commander's had said. "Your failure does not help our family's cause. Do as your commander bids and our family name will share in Orlesian glory once more."

His commander? Leliana had thought to herself. Is this man one of us?

"To the Void with you and your plans for our family! Your ambition knows no bounds, Clotaire. I'm a Grey Warden; I no longer have a need for political titles or intrigue!" There had been a pause before Jean-René had continued. "The Wardens were stopped at the border; I was fortunate to have one man enter!"

"There are other paths of entry," Leliana had heard Clotaire say.

"And you should have utilized them; as a Grey Warden, you had a duty to utilize them."

"No," the angry voice of Jean-René had retorted. "We are not pawns!"

Once again, the mystery voice had spoken; Leliana had no need to see the man to hear the cold venom in his voice. "You will do as you are ordered, Warden Commander, or I will appoint someone who will do as they are ordered."

To Leliana's surprise, the voice of a fourth man had joined the conversation. "And to disobey the Lady isn't wise, no matter whom you are."

"Just so, brother," Clotaire said. "Henri speaks the truth and you would do well to take heed."

Leliana had listened to the voices fall quiet, the silence deafening beyond the door. Instinct and the taint within her blood had told Leliana to quickly withdraw. She had opened her book, looking down into it as she had begun to walk away from the door as nonchalantly as possible. Barely a half dozen steps had been taken when she had felt a hand close around her arm, the vice like grip pulling her around until she had looked into the eyes of the Orlesian Warden Commander.

His eyes had narrowed as he had glared at her. "What are you doing here, Warden?"

Leliana had not had to feign the look of surprise on her face. "I was returning to my quarters with a book and some wine after dinner."

Jean-René had held her gaze for a long moment before pulling her down the hallway, motioning to two Wardens talking casually at the end of the hall. "Take Warden Laya to her quarters and remain there on guard; she is not to leave until I say so." The men had nodded in acknowledgment, one moving to either side of Leliana as she began to walk toward her quarters. Her mind had begun to race as she drew closer to her doorway, playing the conversation she had just heard over in her mind.

What do they mean by 'plans?' And why would Jean-René speak of pawns? The Lady… why would she have an interest in Grey Warden affairs, or Ferelden for that matter?


Leliana brought her mind back to the present. The Warden Commander's conversation with his guests had clearly centered on the events of the Blight, which meant Ferelden was most likely the main topic of conversation. Why would Jean-René accuse his companions of using the Wardens as pawns? Were the chevaliers really meant to help the Wardens, or were the instincts of then-Teyrn Loghain correct? What did Clotaire mean about their family returning to glory? And why was The Lady involved? Either way, the conversation left Leliana uneasy and with little in the way of answers.

Standing tall, she stretched in an attempt to rid her body of the tension that had built within her. As she reached skyward, she felt the gentle scratch of the parchment she kept hidden within a small pocket of her breast band. She was to meet Zevran and relay the information contained in her letter; thankfully, Dorothea had agreed to relay the information to him. That was, of course, if she would be allowed to see Leliana given what had just happened.

Leliana knew that she had to include what she had just heard, but could not just openly write it in the letter. There was little time to convert her information into the code that Loghain had taught them, as Dorothea was scheduled to arrive shortly and Leliana was reluctant to disclose the code in her presence, no matter how much she trusted her old confidante. She was also reluctant to verbally give Dorothea the information, and not just because the words could be easily misconstrued.

Running her hands through her colored hair, Leliana began to pace the floor of her small room, her mind racing as to how she could get an accurate, yet surreptitious, message to Zevran. After another moment spent pacing, she flopped onto her small bed with a large sigh and reached to the table next to her. Her book, the wine, and a small decanter of water rested on the top. Ignoring the water, she poured herself a glass of wine. She took a sip, enjoying the taste spreading across her tongue before she suddenly sat upright, looking at the liquid inside the glass.

Perhaps there was a way to get a message to Zevran after all. With a grin, Leliana reached into a drawer of the small table, pulling forth a sheet of parchment, inkpot, and quill. She began to quickly—yet lightly—write on the page and several minutes later, had several paragraphs of finely inked text. Blowing on the ink to help it dry faster, she then turned toward the wooden frame of her bed, prying loose a splinter of wood. After examining the splinter and finding it satisfactory, she picked up her cup of wine, draining most of it before adding a small amount of water. She lowered her nose to the cup and sniffed at the contents; with the water added, the smell of the wine was greatly diminished. As a lopsided grin pulled at her lips, she dipped the splinter into the diluted wine. The sounds of light scratching filled her ears as the splinter moved across the page.


Brasca, where could she be?

Zevran sat crouched amongst the shadows on the roof of the abandoned warehouse he and Leliana had chosen as their meeting place to exchange information. They needed to send an update back to Ferelden, but how could that be done when one of the ones with pertinent information was late? Leliana knew when they were supposed to meet…

The urge to pace among the shadows was almost unbearable, but Zevran kept his place. It was best to stay where he was in case anyone nearby just happened to be scanning the rooftops. The last thing he wanted was a curious onlooker calling out or otherwise investigating.

His mind wandered back over what he had observed in the recent past. It had become clear to Zevran soon after Clotaire and Henri had left the tavern the evening before that their destination had been the Grey Warden compound. He had followed behind them at a discreet distance, had used the shadows and small groups of people traversing the streets as cover. As Clotaire and Henri had passed yet another noble estate, a man dressed in grand attire had joined them. The man had simply fallen into step with Clotaire and Henri, the pace of their steps never slowing. They had walked swiftly, closing the distance between them and the Warden compound in short order.

Zevran's mind had raced as he contemplated the men ahead of him and how to determine the identity of the third man that had joined Clotaire and Henri. He could have attempted to flank the men and station himself ahead of them, but with the distance between them and the compound rapidly running out, Zevran would have had to risk drawing unwanted attention to himself by ducking and running through alleys. That in itself had risks, as it would have required Zevran to break visual contact with the men.

And what if I had actually succeeded in flanking them? Or even followed them into the compound? Should I have thrown caution to the wind?

Zevran scoffed quietly to himself; contemplating the 'what ifs' was ultimately self-defeating. Knowing the Grey Wardens as he did—the Fereldan variety, anyway—he knew the risks of discovery would have been great. After all, there were likely those within the Orlesian compound who rivaled his own skills. He had to admit to himself that even Nathaniel Howe—had he been given Crow training—would have proven quite a challenge to his skills. Not to say that Howe was unskilled, but with additional training—

Scuffling sounds from nearby brought Zevran's thoughts to a halt. He held his breath, listening intently to the sounds of the night around him. The light breeze rustled through shutters and wind chimes in the distance. Feral cats fought in a nearby alley, their snarls and growls carrying through the district. Zevran slowly brought his hand to his ear, cupping it to guide even the most subtle sounds inside. There—the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps along the rooftop. From his estimate, the stranger's feet were likely clad in shoes with soft leather soles. Zevran should have felt relief at hearing footsteps, but these were not the steps he was listening for. He slid his other hand down to the sheath at his belt, slowly drawing the dagger from within. It came free with barely a whisper, the darkened blade nearly indistinguishable from the night around it.

"That's quite close enough," Zevran said, his voice a low growl toward the figure that had emerged from the darkness nearby. From the slender build he could tell it was a woman, but not the one he had been waiting for.

"I come at the behest of a mutual friend," the woman said, her voice also low. She held her hands out in a sign of supplication from where she stood several paces away. "A friend that knew you would be waiting here."

"Indeed? Then perhaps you would like to explain why you are here and not our mutual friend."

A light laugh escaped from the lips of the woman before him. "Our friend thought you might need convincing, so this is what I am to say to you: you both have another mutual friend in Ferelden, one who slayed a rather troublesome dragon atop a fort in Denerim."

"What else?" Zevran motioned with his hand for the woman to continue.

"When you met this other mutual friend for the first time, you tried to kill her."

"That is all but common knowledge, my friend." Zevran brought the dagger out into the open, making sure the woman before him could see it. "There are few who do not know that story, for it is a good one to tell."

Even in the low light, Zevran saw a smile spread across the woman's face, her teeth reflecting the low light. "But what isn't widely known is that you told your friend that there are worse fates in life than serving the whims of a deadly sex goddess."

Zevran nearly chuckled aloud at the memory of his first meeting with Lhiannon; it seemed almost a lifetime ago. Only a handful of people knew of that story and had witnessed Zevran's fortunate failure at carrying out the contract that Rendon Howe and then-Regent Loghain had set him on. Leliana had been one of those people that had witnessed his failure, and therefore would have known exactly what it was that he had told Lhiannon that fateful day as he lay on the ground, injured but, thankfully, alive.

He sheathed his dagger, motioning the woman forward. "It was certainly as you say, for few observed that event. Now that I know who has indeed sent you, might I have the pleasure of your name?"

"My name is Dorothea."

"Ah," Zevran said, tilting his head knowingly. "I have heard of you. You are Chantry." With one last glance around them, Zevran moved back into the shadows atop the building, inviting Dorothea closer. They sat, heads close so that they could keep their voices low.

"So, tell me, Dorothea: why have you come and not Leliana?"

"Leliana is currently at the Grey Warden compound; she is safe, but not welcome to leave. The commander, Jean-Rene Alune, intends to return her to Ferelden." Dorothea lowered her voice even further. "She has given the commander her assumed name, but she is also fairly certain that he knows she is not telling him the whole truth about her Warden status."

Zevran brought a hand up to his chin, rubbing it as he thought. "When did you last speak to her?"

"Just before I came to meet you." Dorothea reached into her cloak, pulling a folded piece of paper from within and handing it to Zevran. Several dabs of ordinary candle wax held the seams of the parchment closed. "She bade me to give this to you. She also says that the ink is rather light, so make sure you have a strong light when you read it."


As suspected, sleep was a stranger to Lhiannon as the Wardens and their men camped around and among the Dalish clan. She had lost track of time as she lay staring up at the fabric of the tent above her, Loghain's deep, even breathing and occasional snores her only source of company during the long night. Several times during the night—when she knew she had only rested briefly and fitfully—she considered having a sleep spell cast on her, but had quickly nixed the idea. There had only been a few times in her life that she had been under the influence of a sleep spell and, more often than not, she had awakened feeling anything but refreshed. Finally, after realizing that sleep was simply not in her immediate future, she quietly rose and dressed, quickly exiting the tent so as not to disturb Loghain.

Looking toward the center of the Dalish camp, Lhiannon saw a low fire burning with several figures seated around it. One of the figures was Lanaya, who held a small cup in her hand and was in conversation with one of the Dalish seated next to her. Lhiannon was unsure if joining them was a wise idea, but decided that company was better than being by herself and consumed with her racing mind and doubts.

Lanaya saw her coming and waved her over with a smile. As Lhiannon sat, Lanaya reached toward an old teakettle nestled in the coals of the fire, pouring the steaming tea into a cup and handing it to Lhiannon. The tea smelled of berries and herbs and when she sipped it, she detected a hint of honeycomb as well.

After several minutes of silence while Lhiannon enjoyed her tea, Lanaya made a motion to the few other elves around the fire. They quietly moved away, blending in with the shadows of the aravels and trees with an almost magical grace.

"Warden Commander, I met with the elders of the clan last evening. We discussed the proposal sent by the King and Queen."

Lhiannon set her cup down at her feet, turning her body to face Lanaya directly. The Keeper's face was carefully neutral as she drained the last of her tea. When she finished, she met Lhiannon's questioning gaze.

"We wish to convey our deepest thanks for such an honor; however, it is with regret that we must decline it at this time."

A part of Lhiannon was not surprised to hear those words from the Keeper. She felt her lips purse slightly as she took a deep breath to center herself. "Keeper, may I ask why? King Alistair and Queen Anora will certainly want to know."

Lanaya turned her gaze toward the low fire, sighing slightly as she appeared to gather her thoughts. "I understand, Commander. What it comes to is this: you and I both know that the Chantry does not approve of the Dalish and our ways. While the Crown might be willing to give us land and forge a new peace, I hardly think your Chantry would follow suit. They have harassed and hunted the Dalish for decades and will not allow us a moment of peace until we have abandoned our gods and our way of life. I will not do that."

"A Keeper's duty is to keep the old ways alive and recover that which was lost," Lhiannon said, nodding her head in understanding.

"Yes, and the Chantry will not suffer that. The moment we establish a permanent settlement, clerics and templars will come to try and convert us to their ways through proselytizing and promises of the Maker's forgiveness for following our heathen ways. When we refuse—and we will—there will soon follow an army of templars. They will seek to take our people with magical aptitude to one of the Circles, and will forcibly remove any of us who refuse to convert to their beliefs."

Picking up her tea once more, Lhiannon turned to contemplate the fire. Lanaya had a very valid point. While not everyone associated with the Chantry would necessarily take up arms against the Dalish, there were others that would certainly advocate it. Ferelden was, after all, the land of Andraste's birth, and she could see elements within the Chantry vehemently opposing a permanent settlement of heathens all but in sight of the Birth Rock. The calls for an Exalted March would come quickly thereafter.

Lanaya's voice broke through Lhiannon's reverie. "I hope that, one day, the Dalish can accept such an offer from the Crown. Since the fall of The Dales, we have yearned for a permanent home."

"As do I," Lhiannon said, smiling at Lanaya. She drained the last of her tea and stood, looking around the camp to see the first of the Wardens and army beginning to stir as the horizon grew brighter in anticipation of dawn. She sighed, not completely looking forward to the long days ahead. "For now, however, I must prepare the Wardens and our party to leave. The days ahead promise to be difficult, so the sooner we get underway, the sooner our task will be done."


Not long after Lhiannon had left the central fire behind, her compliment of Wardens and soldiers stood on the outskirts of the Dalish camp, ready to begin their journey. She and the other Wardens—Loghain, Sigrun¸ Anders, Oghren, and Anwen—were referencing one of Loghain's maps of the forest, discussing the terrain and pointing off toward the distance. It was not completely necessary to have a map with their Warden senses pulling them east, but marking the exact location of the breach and any blight around it would be helpful for future Wardens. Lhiannon wanted to be sure there was a complete accounting of the Blight in Ferelden, so that future Fereldan Wardens would be more prepared than she and Alistair had been. Weisshaupt would likely ask for such an accounting as well.

The Wardens and their support would be breaking into three groups of various sizes. The first group—those heading to the breach—would be traveling on foot, carrying provisions with them in packs. Only a few pack animals would be accompanying them; the blight that covered the land often unsettled horses and other animals, so the majority of them would be left behind. A few volunteers from among the soldiers would accompany them to care for the pack animals and perform controlled burns of small blighted areas while the Wardens completed their task.

The second group of men and soldiers would remain in camp not far from the Dalish clan, caring for the remainder of the animals and provisions but ready to provide assistance to the Dalish or those heading for the breach if need be. Some of the elves had been wary of a small group of armed humans remaining among them, but had been assuaged slightly when Lhiannon offered to move her men to the outskirts of the clan's camp.

The third—and smallest—group of men were scouts, ready to return to Denerim with news from the Wardens and the Dalish clan's polite refusal of the Crown's offer of land. They also carried an update from Lhiannon to Nathaniel and Varel at Vigil's Keep, informing them of their itinerary now that the quest to the breach was about to begin. It was her plan to return to Vigil's Keep after their business with the breach was concluded. Returning home could not come soon enough; not only was Lhiannon a bit homesick for Vigil's Keep, but she could not shake the uneasiness the forest had given her. She knew the tales about the thinness of the Veil and how spirits and demons haunted the darker places—had seen evidence of it in the old Tevinter ruins first hand—which only served to fuel her unease and the feeling of eyes watching them.

"Warden Commander."

Keeper Lanaya's voice broke through Lhiannon's thoughts. She and the other Wardens turned to see the Keeper approaching with several others behind her, each one carrying a rough leather pack on their shoulders. They stopped just behind the Keeper as she approached Lhiannon, nodding a greeting to the other Wardens before speaking.

"I have come to wish you good fortune on your journey," Lanaya said, her voice formal before those gathered. She turned her head to the side and nodded; the elves behind her stepped forward, stopping before each Warden and presenting them with the pack that had been slung about their shoulders. Even the Keeper stepped forward, handing her own parcel to Lhiannon with a small smile. "We cannot provide much, but wanted to help you on your journey."

Lhiannon opened her pack, seeing inside two water skins and several packages wrapped in broad leaves. She lifted her gaze to meet that of the Keeper. The Dalish did not have supplies in abundance and Lhiannon briefly considered returning the satchels. She could not allow their sacrifice of provisions—no matter how small the amount—to cause undo hardship on the clan. After all, the Wardens did have enough in supplies for a fortnight's sojourn into the Deep Roads. However, the expectant look on Lanaya's face quashed any protest Lhiannon may have had; she did not wish to cause offense by refusing such a gesture from the clan.

The Keeper must have sensed Lhiannon's hesitation and sought to quell her reservations. "We don't have much, but wanted to give each of you some provisions for your journey: water, dried meat, and flatbread. You have done a great deal for our clan at a personal level, and the Grey Wardens under your command have labored to protect everyone—human, dwarf, and elf—from the Blight. Our people wish to honor your courage and sacrifice. I also wish to give you our blessing, if you would have it."

"Of course," Lhiannon said with a nod. She bowed her head as Lanaya lifted her hands to the sky, speaking in the ancient language of the elves for a moment. She then spoke in the common tongue.

"I have asked Mythal, our Mother and the Great Protector, to guide your steps and keep you and the Grey Wardens from harm as you seek to protect all life from that which would destroy it. May She keep those that would serve the will of the Dread Wolf far from you as you complete your task."

In the distance, the keening cry of a hawk filled the air. I hope that's Mythal giving her approval, Lhiannon thought to herself as the Wardens hefted their provisions, bid farewell to the Dalish, and turned east.


Yes, the "lack of sleep" parts are most definitely art imitating life!

I thought a lot about the Dalish and the offer made to them. If they accept the offer and try to set up a permanent settlement, the Chantry (for one) likely won't be happy about it... not with their goal of spreading the Chant to all corners of the world. The Dalish won't give up their way of life or beliefs, and the Chantry won't stop what they feel is their mission to bring the Maker back to His people. Not only that, but many of the humans probably won't like that "knife ears" have been given special treatment by the Crown. I can see an eventual forced relocation of city elves to Dalish lands (because, I think, many humans see all elves as the same and would use the excuse of "they have land" to remove them from the cities and recoup those alienages for human use). If I were a betting girl, I'd also put my money on another Exalted March in the Maker's name.

A little housekeeping here. The baby is coming soon... like less-than-eight-weeks-from-my-due-date soon. I hope to continue writing as often as I can, but things are likely to slow waaaaaay down for a bit. I'm hoping that I can churn out shorter chapters to keep posting on some sort of schedule, but that all depends on what Baby decides Mommy is going to do. Rest assured: I do not intend to abandon any of my stories or artsy stuff. It will just be slow for a bit.

As always, a big, heaping, glomping thank you to reviewers Suilven, Wyl, Oleander's One, Shakespira, Arsinoe, Seika, JackOfBladesX, Ventisquear, Tyanilth, FallenAngel225, and naomis8329. You all totally make my day with your reviews (and are incredibly patient with me when I'm incoherent in my replies from lack of sleep).

Thank you to all of you following along! I very much appreciate your support.