Author's Note – And back to Dragon Age! My continued thanks to all of you who have read/faved/followed this story, with special shout-outs this chapter to KalenCaelli, ANCIENT WARRIOR, & N7 Ironclad
We'll be staying in Kirkwall for one more chapter after this one, as it was starting to get unwieldy.
Late Justinian, 31 Dragon
They didn't leave the Golden Chalice until late morning of the next day. Sleeping in was a luxury that neither of them had yet grown accustomed to, but when Talia had awakened Leliana in the silvery light just before dawn, it had been with kisses and caresses that had flowed easily into the unhurried lovemaking that neither of them could get enough of, then just as effortlessly back into contented slumber wrapped around each other.
A few hours and a late breakfast later saw them on the streets of Hightown. "High in more ways than one," Talia remarked, pausing on one of the terraces that offered an expansive view of the lower portions of the city, the harbor and the sea beyond.
"It is," Leliana agreed, turning her attention from the scenery to her lover as Talia lifted her head appreciatively into the cool breeze. Seeing her so relaxed, the worries that had beset her during the Blight and the cares that accompanied her duty as Warden-Commander set aside for the time being, was wonderful, but it also caused a twinge of guilt. She looked much closer to her actual age: not even nineteen yet, nearly a decade younger than Leliana, and the bard could feel the old guilt trying to stir. The Hero of Ferelden could have had her choice of paramours in the weeks since the killing of the Archdemon, with young men and women alike casting admiring looks in her direction, but Talia had never even seemed to notice. Did Leliana deserve such devotion after what she had done?
"What's wrong?" Talia was watching her now, forehead lightly creased with concern.
"I was just thinking how alike most cities are, no matter where they are located," she replied, hating how easily the lie came to her lips, but grateful for it at the same time. "The upper classes separate themselves from those they feel are beneath them and seldom even spare them a thought."
Talia nodded. "It's like that in Denerim, too, though the division isn't quite as pronounced." She looked downward. "I'll bet that the lower levels don't get even a hint of this breeze."
"Probably not." She had promised herself that the lies would end with the deception over Morrigan's ritual, but she had forgotten that lies beget lies as relentlessly as any broodmother ever brought forth darkspawn in the lightless reaches of the Deep Roads.
"Come on." Talia caught up her hand and kissed it gently before leading her away from the terrace. "We're here to relax, not worry about things that we can't change. Didn't you say that the family that you knew in Lothering came here?"
"The Hawkes," Leliana nodded gratefully. "Their mother was from a noble family – the Amell's, I believe was the name. She was disinherited after marrying against her parents' wishes, and her younger brother inherited everything when they died, but she seemed sure that he would welcome them." And surely he would have, but she could still feel an anxious churn in the pit of her stomach. There had been no opportunity for her to check on the family, nowhere for them to direct any correspondence to her. Talia had said that none of the corpses gathered and burned in Lothering had matched their descriptions, but even if they had escaped the village successfully, there had still been a great distance to be traveled and dangers to be encountered. "The estate should be here in Hightown."
"Let's see if we can find it, then," Talia replied at once.
Having a purpose made Leliana feel better; her mood definitely wasn't inclined toward shopping at the moment, though she did take note of a pastry shop to visit later, and a couple of tailors with pretty dresses on display in their windows. She cast a sidelong glance at her lover; Talia cut a dashing figure in the neatly tailored tunic and trousers, thanks to the seamstresses that Anora had placed at their disposal (and a bit of persuasion on Leliana's part to convince Talia to submit to the measuring and fittings). Fashion had not been a consideration during the Blight, and the Warden would have been quite content to have continued wearing her oft-mended garb but for her willingness to please the bard. Perhaps she could be persuaded to add another simple dress to her wardrobe before they departed Kirkwall; she looked quite breathtaking when wearing one cut to flatter her height and build.
For now, though, that could wait, and Leliana was pleased to note that although they garnered more than a few curious glances, Talia's desire to remain unrecognized seemed to have succeeded. They stood out among the Hightown nobles' fancy clothing and haughty demeanor, and Leliana caught a disdainful sniff of "more Fereldans" from more than one of the passers-by, but Talia's confident stride, the glint of disapproval in her dark eyes, and the sword at her hip kept such comments under the breath.
Neither of them were interested in asking for information from such arrogant folk, and it was fortunately unnecessary. As with most places like this, the workers who supported the lives of the nobility were all but unnoticed by those who employed them, but their collective eyes missed little.
"The Amell estate?" the elderly gentleman selling hothouse flowers from a stall at the edge of the market nodded as he wrapped up the small but lovely bouquet that Talia had purchased, but he looked somber. "Aye, I know it, but it's been sitting empty … nigh on twelve years now."
"Empty?" Leliana felt her heart sink. "What happened to the family who lived there?"
"Well, Lord Aristide and his wife disowned their daughter after she eloped with a commoner. He was a nice enough fellow … always bought her flowers when they passed by, but Leandra had been betrothed to the de Launcet boy, so it caused quite the scandal for her parents when she broke it off." He cast a cautious look about before continuing in a lower voice, "For my money, she made the right choice. Guillaume de Launcet is a right git. Never once bought the girl he did marry any flowers." He shook his head with an exaggeratedly woeful expression. "You can't get a pretty girl too many flowers," he informed Talia as he handed the bouquet to Leliana.
"Is that so?" Talia gave Leliana a sidelong glance and a smile. "In that case, have that one -" she nodded toward a much larger arrangement of brightly colored blossoms in a lovely porcelain vase, "- delivered to our room at the Golden Chalice."
"Excellent choice, m'lady!" he congratulated her as he accepted her coin and offered her a scrap of parchment to write the instructions for delivery on. "They'll brighten your room and perfume the air for a good many days if you keep them watered."
"I will take good care of them," Leliana promised, pressing a grateful kiss to her lover's cheek, though she would not treasure these flowers quite so much as the memory of the sprigs of Andraste's Grace that Talia had given her in what neither of them had recognized at the time as the beginning of a courtship.
"What happened to Lord and Lady Amell after their daughter eloped?" Talia asked him.
"They both died in the cholera outbreak in ten Dragon," the old man replied, shaking his head grimly. "Never saw anything like that year, and hope never to again. Bodies stacked like cordwood, and the smoke from the pyres would blot out the sun some days. Their spendthrift son inherited everything and managed to lose it all. He hung on a few years by begging and borrowing from his father's old friends, but eventually, they all cut him off. I heard he's living in Lowtown now, but I haven't seen him in ten years or more … not even sure he's still alive." He brightened a bit. "I did see Leandra a few months ago. She said she was visiting from Ferelden and wanted to see her family's old home."
"Were any of her children with her?" Leliana asked worriedly. Bad enough for the dear woman to arrive in Kirkwall only to find that her family's home had been lost, but the notion of her being alone in the City of Chains was distressing."
"No, but she mentioned meeting her daughters later," he replied. "If they're still in Kirkwall, your best bet for finding them would be to check at Lirene's Fereldan Imports in Lowtown. She's done a lot to help the refugees over the last year; poor sods get little enough kindness in this city."
"We will do that," Leliana told him. "Thank you, ser." They turned to go, but he stopped them to pin a tiny red rosebud nestled in a bed of greenery to the shoulder of Talia's tunic.
"You're a pretty girl, too," he told the Warden with a smile. Talia looked bemused, but thanked him graciously.
"I should have thought of that," Leliana murmured as they walked away.
"He was just thanking me for the flowers we bought," Talia dismissed the gesture with a shrug
Leliana stopped and turned Talia to face her. "You are beautiful, my love," she told her firmly, "and I do not tell you that often enough." Nor, she realized with chagrin, did she truly know what sort of tokens to gift her beloved to demonstrate her feelings. The girl at Highever had been enthralled with swords, but the Blight had given the young woman that Talia had grown into no real chance to find other interests.
She would help her lover discover those interests, Leliana resolved. Talia's duties as Warden-Commander would demand much of her, and she deserved time to be something besides a Warden. For now, perhaps a necklace, or maybe a ring. She did not look down at Talia's right hand as they resumed their walk, but she knew that Talia still wore the ring that Morrigan had given her, saw her sometimes staring into the distance while turning the ring upon her finger, a sad expression on her face.
There had been no sign of the witch since her audacious attack upon the Archdemon had saved Leliana and Talia. Leliana and Alistair had both waited fearfully in the weeks that had followed the slaying of the monster, but the disorganized retreat of the surviving darkspawn had never slowed. That meant that Morrigan and her unborn child had most likely survived, but of course, they could not offer Talia that logic as reassurance. Leliana could only hope that the witch had meant what she said about staying gone.
"I think this is it." Talia had stopped and was looking up at a sizable mansion that seemed quite impressive at first glance: two stories, red granite with a slate roof and a large garden surrounding it. Closer inspection revealed many of the slate shingles askew or missing, a thick layer of dust coating windows behind which heavy drapes blocked any view of the interior, and a proliferation of weeds choking out the flowers in the garden.
"It looks sad," Leliana said softly. The windows looked like empty eyes, trails of dust left by rain seeming like the tracks of tears on the walls. "I doubt that Leandra returns here often."
"Shall we go talk to this Lirene that he mentioned?" Talia asked.
"That will likely be the best way to locate them," Leliana agreed, "but while we are in Hightown, I would like to visit the Chantry." She had attended services in the tent that had been set up outside the badly damaged Chantry in Denerim each morning, thanking the Maker for sparing Talia and Alistair, and praying for forgiveness for what she had done. The sharpest pangs of guilt had subsided as the weeks had progressed with no sign of a new Archdemon, but a quiet dread chilled her in the darkest reaches of the night: a certainty that there would be a price to pay for her blasphemy. She told herself that having Talia beside her was worth any punishment, but the notion that the ultimate price might someday be the loss of her Warden haunted her.
Talia acceded to her suggestion readily. Her fury against the Maker for the loss of her parents and home had been mellowed into a wary curiosity by their experience within the Temple of Sacred Ashes. While she could not be considered a devout Andrastean by any measure, she no longer completely rejected the faith.
"It's … big," Talia remarked as they approached the towering granite edifice that sat near the highest point in Hightown, broad staircases ascending through terraces shadowed by massive bronze statues of templars brandishing weapons. She cocked her head, studying the building. "Looks more like something you'd see in Orzammar."
"It does, doesn't it?" Leliana agreed, regarding the massive, blocky structure, so very different from the rustic cathedral in Denerim or the elegant marble construction of the Grand Cathedral in Val Royeaux. With the proliferation of statues of armed and armored templars, it looked more like a military compound than a place of worship, and was decidedly reminiscent of the more grandiose architecture of the dwarven city. "Perhaps someone within can tell us -"
"You!"
Beside her, Leliana felt Talia tense, and she dropped her hand to her side, where a concealed slit in her skirt would allow her to reach the sheathed dagger that was strapped to her thigh. It took her a moment to identify the man who was staring at them as if he were seeing ghosts. His eyes were no longer so sunken, his face no longer so gaunt and haggard, and a scar on his upper lip was the only visible remnant of the torture that he had been subjected to; it was the templar insignia on his breastplate that provided the final key to her memory.
"Ser Cullen." Talia seemed to have made the connection at the same time, and was regarding the sandy-haired templar with polite – and slightly wary – surprise. "I didn't expect to meet you here."
"Nor I," he replied, recovering his composure somewhat, though he still looked decidedly less than happy to see them (unsurprising, considering that Talia's last words to him at Redcliffe had been a threat to shove his sword into a sensitive location). "I was … transferred from Fereldan to Kirkwall several weeks ago. What brings you here?"
"Fulfilling a friend's last request," Talia replied simply. She would be polite, but she was plainly no happier at this unexpected reunion than he was.
"You look well," Leliana told him, which was true enough, but even that mild compliment made him look even more uncomfortable.
"Being away from Kinloch has … helped," he admitted. "The memories there were ..." He trailed off, his expression bleak.
"Who is this?"
The woman who strode down the steps to stand beside Cullen was taller than Talia by an inch or two, the bulk of the heavy plate that she wore making her seem to loom even more over the Warden and Leliana on the lower steps. Beneath a crimson cowl, long blonde hair framed a face that might have been pretty but for the severe set of her features. Ice blue eyes appraised them with a raptor's piercing gaze; above them, a golden circlet rested on her brow.
"Knight-Commander Meredith Stannard," Cullen introduced the newcomer with a deferential air, "this is the Hero of Ferelden -" He gestured to Talia, "and -" he trailed off uncertainly.
"Another Hero of Ferelden," Talia provided smoothly, inclining her head in polite greeting. "Warden-Commander Talia Cousland, and my companion, Leliana."
The pale eyebrows arched ever so slightly, but the azure gaze remained dispassionate. "The slayer of the Archdemon? An impressive feat." Her tone suggested that she was commenting on the weather. "Knight-Captain Rutherford has told me of your actions in Kinloch Tower." Her already cool expression hardened into glacial disapproval. "You acted foolishly in not carrying out the Rite of Annulment in a circle so deeply corrupted."
Talia's expression hardened to match that of the Knight-Commander. "The Rite of Annulment had not been received. Knight-Commander Greagoir gave us leave to try to save the circle after the templars had failed." Leliana saw the Knight-Commander's jaw tighten and a flush touch the fair cheeks. "He was unwilling to murder the innocent for the crimes of Uldred and his followers, and we agreed with him." Talia continued. "The mages were valuable allies in the final fight against the darkspawn."
"And how many of them are blood mages in hiding, or have demons within waiting to spring forth when the time is right?" Meredith countered scornfully.
"I won't kill someone for what they might do," Talia told her. Her dark eyes glinted with irritation, but she maintained her composure well.
"Indeed," the Knight-Commander agreed, nostrils flaring with disdain. "Knight-Captain Rutherford has informed me that you welcomed a maleficar into your company, shielding her from the templars."
Talia bridled visibly, the edges of her temper beginning to show. "Morrigan was no maleficar," she informed the Knight-Commander in a steely voice, "and since she was never a part of the Chantry, she was no apostate. She fought alongside us to save mages and templars alike … including Knight-Captain Rutherford." She glared at Cullen, who dropped his eyes, looking ill at ease. "She entered the Fade to kill the demon that had possessed Arl Eamon's son when none of the Circle mages had the strength, and -" She swallowed hard, and when she went on, her voice was thick with emotion. "She gave her life to save me and Leliana in the fight against the Archdemon. She did more to defend Ferelden against the Blight than any templar." Her final words rang with challenge, and heads turned among the people going up and down the stairs, but all gave them a wide berth.
If the Knight-Commander was moved by Talia's words, she gave no sign. "It is the duty of the Grey Wardens to stand against the darkspawn," she intoned imperiously. "The duty of the templars is no less imperative, nor does it wax and wane with a Blight. Always, we must be vigilant lest the curse of magic consume those that we watch over."
"I hope you have better luck than Ferelden's templars did," Talia's tone was neutral, but Leliana saw the insult hit home in the sudden paling of Cullen's face and the muscles clenching in the Knight-Commander's jaw.
"Luck is not a factor when proper vigilance and control are exercised," Meredith replied, measured words all but dripping with ice. She regarded Talia thoughtfully. "Perhaps a warrior of your prowess would consent to provide a demonstration during our drills? I am certain that a match between you and I would prove … quite instructive."
It was a challenge, not an invitation, and Leliana held her breath until Talia answered.
"Another time," her Warden said calmly. "I've done little but fight over the last year, and this trip -" she reached out to capture Leliana's hand in her own, "is intended to be peaceful."
"As you wish." The Knight-Commander made no attempt to hide the scorn in her words, but Talia simply watched her impassively as she offered a condescending smile. "I hope you enjoy your 'peaceful' stay in our fair city." She strode past them down the steps with Cullen trailing in her wake, muttering something that sounded like a farewell.
Talia glanced briefly after them, then shook her head and sighed as the sound of boots on granite faded. "Of all the people to run into in Kirkwall, he was not on my list," she remarked bemusedly.
"I hope he finds peace here," Leliana remarked, then smiled warmly. "You behaved magnificently, my love. I am glad that you did not agree to spar with her; I fear she would have tried to cause you real harm."
"She could have tried," Talia agreed, lip curling faintly. Her general contempt for templars had not greatly improved since their experience at Kinloch Hold. She considered them bullies who relied too much upon the talents that suppressed magic and not enough on martial skills.
"I have heard it said that she is the true ruler of Kirkwall, the Viscount merely her puppet," Leliana said earnestly. "We would do well I think to avoid her notice."
"I don't plan on seeing her again at all," Talia said with a shrug, turning her gaze up the steps, then back to Leliana. "Shall we?"
The interior of the chantry, while mirroring the scale of the exterior architecture, bore the familiar accouterments of chantries across southern Thedas, from the Grand Cathedral to the humble chantry in Lothering: rows of pews with crimson rugs running the length of the aisles, down to the altar beneath the statue of Andraste (which was, admittedly, the largest that Leliana had seen). Leaded glass windows set high on the walls beneath the vaulted ceiling crowned the Maker's bride with brilliant sunlight, while braziers at her feet recreated the flames of her pyre.
Leliana knelt before the altar; from the corner of her eye, she saw Talia kneeling beside her, head bowed and lips moving silently. She concealed her surprise, closing her eyes and focusing on her own prayer: thanksgiving for what she had been blessed with and a plea for forgiveness. She remained kneeling for a few moments after she felt Talia rise, then stood, lifting her eyes to the serene marble countenance, remembering staring up at such a statue in Valance for the first time, unable to believe that one such as she could have any place among the followers of Andraste. Her journey to faith had been made with faltering steps, but when she had departed Lothering with the Grey Wardens, she had been so sure that she was doing the Maker's will, bolstered by the memory of the rose that had bloomed in the midst of death. And then, when it had counted most, instead of trusting the Maker, she had -
She had done what she had done, Leliana told herself with grim resignation, and faced with the same choice, she would almost certainly do it again. She turned to Talia, who was waiting patiently, showing no sign of self-consciousness at her own display of piety.
"Just remembering," Leliana told her, capturing one hand and raising it to her lips. Talia had come so far from the angry girl she had been in Lothering, rejecting any mention of the Maker's hand in what she had endured. Her blossoming faith would undoubtedly be as straightforward and honest as everything else about her; what might learning of the blasphemy that Leliana had committed for her sake do to damage it?
She must never know, Leliana resolved anew, knowing in the silence of her own mind that it was as much to protect herself as to shield her lover's fledgling belief. If that made her a hypocrite or worse, that was simply what she was. The thought of losing Talia could not be countenanced.
An elderly Chantry sister was only too happy to give the history of the structure. "It was built by dwarves," she said, looking pleased that they had recognized the fact. "During the time of Tevinter rule over these lands. It was originally the estate of one of their magisters -" She gave a delicate shudder of distaste at the notion, "but after the slave uprising in the Ancient age, it was claimed by the Chantry and rebuilt with the rest of Kirkwall." She gestured about proudly. "The stain of the Imperium has been cleansed by the power of the Maker and His bride."
"It is magnificent," Leliana agreed, though she could not help but wonder if even half as much coin as had been devoted to the grandeur of the cathedral had been spent to aid the multitudes in need in the city that spread out below.
"I wonder how much attention they give to the folk outside of Hightown," Talia mused, unconsciously echoing Leliana's thought as they descended the steps. From this vantage, they could see most of the city and the surrounding lands; only the Viscount's Keep possessed a more commanding view.
"As much as the wealthy in any large city generally think of the less fortunate," Leliana replied with a resigned sigh. There were always exceptions: individuals as charitable and kind as they were rich, but she had seen the pattern hold true too often to be surprised. She laced her fingers with Talia's. "Come. We have coin enough of our own to make a difference to some. Let us find this Lirene and see for ourselves what Lowtown is like." And hopefully, she added to herself, find the Hawke clan safe and well.