HAWKE

I've experienced many awkward situations in my life.

Like . . . accidentally setting Gamlen's pants on fire on First Day. Or getting caught drinking Mother and Father's secret stash, after slipping off the roof as a runt. Oh! And how could I forget the worst of them all: the time I tripped and accidentally knocked over a client's urn, containing their recently deceased Lord husband's ashes. In the middle of their crowded estate. During the wake.

Varric never let me live that one down. Neither did the rest of the Red Iron, who employed Aveline, Bethany, and I for the job.

But out of all these horrid occurrences, this moment I think takes the crown laurels.

Sneaking our group into the Viscount's Keep, after dark, on a favor for Mother Elthina, with the help of Kirkwall's City Guard Captain, and Serena's recently returned, former-Crow-assassin husband ogling me the whole while.

I'll admit, it's not what I anticipated for tonight.

And if Zevran wasn't who he was, I might even feel flattered. After all, it's not every day you receive someone's full attention—even more so from a legendary war veteran in the middle of a mission.

However, our previous conversation still plagues my thoughts, and as much as I try to dismiss it—to calm myself that I must be imagining things; I must—there's a coldness to his gaze. Like he's toying with me. Taunting me. It's disturbing. Unnerving. And when paired with the awkward tension still stalking our group, I can't think straight. Not a good way to start a night, which may or may not result in the declaration of international holy war, and may or may not lead to the further persecution, or killing, of all my good mage friends and the only sibling I have left.

"We really need to keep the exalted marching to a minimum," Varric mumbles, mirroring my own thoughts, as we ascend the Keep's main foyer steps in the moonlight. "I keep all my stuff in Kirkwall."

"The Divine wouldn't do that," Sebastian says. "They wouldn't treat the whole city as enemies!"

"The Grand Cleric certainly thinks differently," I scoff, trying my best to ignore the ever watchful Crow, still eyeing me from off to my right.

Maker, he's watching more than any woman ever has.

Why? What is it already?

We reach the top of the foyer steps, and Aveline stops our group. "I'll keep watch here," she says. "Make sure you're not . . . disturbed . . . Do try to be quick. I'll only be able to divert potential guards for so long before the others get suspicious."

I nod my silent thanks to her, then glance back at everyone else. Jutting my chin at them, we continue down the hall to the throne room with haste.

"The viscount's throne room has been sealed off since his death. A strange place for a holy sister to be," Sebastian says.

"I think it's stranger we actually got everyone to come out here together," Isabela manages between laughs. "We might not want to approach her all at once, though. Depending on the company this sister keeps."

"Agreed," Serena seconds.

The lot of us reach the first set of doors, leading into the throne room. As expected, they're locked tighter than a Chantry tithe box.

Zevran strides up to their center, pulling out a rather elaborate set of lockpicks. "Allow me," he purrs, quietly kneeling. He fiddles around with the contraption for a moment until there's a faint click. The assassin stands and pushes the first set of doors open . . . only to reveal another set, thirty steps ahead, on the opposite side of a small audience waiting room. Zevran immediately walks up to the next pair without so much as a sigh or complaint and makes quick work of it as well. When he's finished, and they're both finally picked, he shoves them open, too, and we step into the massive throne room.

A fair, young woman in a long purple dress, adorned in a black and gold embroidered cowl, stands atop the room's grand central steps. Two other robed men stand behind her, all three of them carrying staffs.

"So, even the Divine fears us now." The woman glares down at us. "She should. Kill the spies!"

The other two mages summon up magic immediately at her request.

Well, this meeting's already going downhill fast. And here I haven't even said or done anything yet . . .


FENRIS

Blood mages. It is always blood mages in this city of late.

You would think they'd realize our group's not one to be trifled with. Yet, some still remain keen to rush to their deaths.

So be it.

I charge forth at the nearest enemy mage atop the throne room stairs. The accursed lyrium markings burn under my skin at my approach, flashing brilliantly, as I slash at the female leader in a near indecipherable blur. Her barrier repels my blow, sending me stumbling back, down a couple of steps, just as Hawke sprints past me at one of the other mages further up.

Curse their magic. That won't be enough to make me back off. Their fates are sealed.

Furious, I allow the dark energy within my brands to swell, rising along with my rage, until it lashes out with a chaotic blast of spiritual force.

The mage gasps. Her barrier falters.

Leaping forward, I strike at her with a killer blow, sundering her accursed magical walls and tearing my blade into her right shoulder.

By some miracle, she blocks most of the critical damage with her staff. But the second she staggers from the force, I parry, and stab her in the gut, twisting my blade as it cleaves open her vile, beating heart.

The woman collapses, blood spurting from both her mouth and abdomen, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Dead.

I look up at Hawke. He has his mage opponent on the defensive now. But his end will come soon enough, from the looks of the battle. Typical of the Champion's sword prowess.

The other mage off to the right already lies slain on the floor, arrows sticking out of his chest like quills picked off a porcupine. Sebastian's handiwork, undoubtably.

Seeing I'm no longer needed up top with all the mages taken care of—I shift my gaze to the havoc going on below.

Serena and Zevran are fighting back to back, taking on two summoned rage demons, while the others focus on the meandering corpses, hobbling about. Serena closes in on one of the demons, ripping into it with wide sweeps of her scythe, pushing it further back. Meanwhile, Zevran attempts to fend off the other, slicing at it with quick, nimble slashes, before crouching low and jumping high in the air to impale both his daggers into its back.

The backstab forces the monster to rear up, making it an open target for Varric, Merrill, and Anders, who shoot at it with bolts of physical and magical nature. The being crumbles under the combined onslaught, disappearing into shadow with a shrill, ear-piercing screech.

Zevran immediately turns and helps Serena corner the remaining rage demon, successfully completing complicated group maneuvers that could only be mastered after fighting countless battles, side by side.

Torn asunder by their critical blows, the other demon falls to their unending flurries. All I can do is watch. Dumbstruck, as the two stand in the quiet aftermath, panting, sweating, and then smiling at each other—the tender light in their gazes equivalent to a stab to the chest.

Swallowing down the feeling, or at least trying to, I clench my fists and avert my eyes.

But what good that does. The sensation doesn't budge.

The last of the corpses fall to a combination of spells and arrows inflicted by the others

But as the lot of us start to relax and regroup at the bottom of the steps, two new robed adversaries sprint through the open throne room doors. I lift my blade instinctively, prepared to sprint at them, when a red-headed woman seemingly appears out of thin air behind them, stabbing them both in the back. The men drop at her feet with a unified groan, and with a quick, graceful twirl of her daggers, she steps further into the room.

"The Resolutionists. I might have known," she says in a thick Orlesian accent.

I tense up and examine the woman from head to toe. She's wearing a blue, long-sleeved shirt with outrageous puffed sleeves and more obnoxious matching trousers. The type of over-excessive fashion statement you'd expect from an Orlesian noble. But the way she carries herself, and the way she executed the men so quickly and precisely, hints at a more wicked background. A life accustomed to striking from shadow.

The woman glimpses up at the lot of us, her bright blue eyes searching, accentuated by darker eye makeup.

"Leliana?" Serena gasps.

The mysterious rogue's eyebrows shoot high up. "Serena?"

The Dalish doesn't waste a second. She runs up and wraps her arms around the mystery woman, pulling her into a tight embrace. "Leliana, it is you!" she cries, her voice full of unprecedented glee.

The stranger hugs her back, while the rest of us slowly gather around them in a small semi-circle.

Isabela crosses her arms once they separate and lets out an amused snicker. "Sister Nightingale, indeed," she purrs, eyeing the strange woman with unrestrained lust. "I remember it didn't take much to make you sing. Or the Warden for that matter." She winks at the two of them.

"Oh, how very true, indeed," Zevran adds with an appreciative smirk.

Leliana and Serena both giggle, bashfully fidget, and look away.

I frown. Well, I suppose that reveals the identity of the two women they allegedly shared a bed with in the past. No further inquiry necessary.

"Oh, I like singing! Were you in a choir together?" Merrill asks, naively smiling at the four of them.

Varric bursts into chuckles. "Is there anyone in Ferelden you haven't slept with, Rivaini?" His voice drips with tease.

Merrill's eyes widen at him. "Oh! Is that what she—Oh! Oh."

I rub my forehead and try not to roll my eyes at her.

This is getting annoying.

"Perhaps we . . . should get back to the reason I'm here?" Leliana clears her throat, simpering again at Serena.

Hawke walks straight up to her. "Are you Sister Nightingale?" he asks, all business.

"I am. Or you may call me Leliana. The Divine sent me to investigate the possibility of a rebellion here in Kirkwall."

"Without informing the guards, of course." Aveline rushes up from behind her with a scowl.

Leliana lowers her head awkwardly to her. "This is . . . an unconventional situation. I . . . have some experience with those."

Aveline narrows her gaze further at the spy. Her judgement relentless.

"I'm assuming then you're the Leliana, the one who accompanied the Hero of Ferelden to slay the archdemon?" Hawke waves his hand to Serena, clearly trying to break up the standoff.

"Ah, yes." Leliana nods. "That would be me. But that . . . was many years ago. I am working for the Divine now. In Orlais. I had not thought to return to this part of Thedas."

Her chipper voice takes on a more dismal tone, and I notice Serena stare at the woman with mounting concern. Understandably so, if the two once traveled together. But is there more to it than that? The two did apparently share a bed together. And with the assassin and pirate no less. The curiosity behind that is . . . mind-boggling.

"You mentioned 'The Resolutionists' earlier." Hawke changes the subject, eyeing the men at her feet. "Who are they exactly?"

"An offshoot of a fraternity within the Circle of Magi," Leliana answers, furrowing her brow.

"Supported by the magisters," I growl, recognizing the roundabout terminology the noble class seems to love.

"There's no proof of that." Leliana waves her hands out in front of her.

I huff. "I bet a lot of mages think they'd enjoy Tevinter's freedoms—and completely forget few ever achieve the power to enjoy them."

The venomous fools. So eager to pursue what they do not understand.

"There have always been factions that support freedom from the Chantry and the abolition of the Circle. We have . . . tolerated them," the woman says. "But the Resolutionists have become violent. They are likely behind the unrest here."

Hawke sighs at that. "I appreciate you stepping in back there," he says. "I hardly imagined the Divine's secret agent looking like you."

"Of course." Leliana beams at him, as if just given a compliment. "That is why I am effective. The Divine has long suspected that Kirkwall's problems were spurred by an outside group."

Anders snorts. "Like any mage with a brain can't come up with 'Let's rebel'?"

"As if any 'mage with a brain' couldn't conceive of anything else." I glare at the abomination.

He glowers back at me. The disdain between us mutual.

"To be fair, Blondie, a lot of those 'rebellions' boil down to, 'Lets feed ourselves to demons!' Outside help of the planning variety might be required," Varric mediates, putting in his two cents.

But it's hopeless. The abomination cannot be reasoned with. Along with most such mages.

I glimpse over at Serena, perhaps one of the few, rare exceptions in their realm of vipers. Her expression sours when directed at the dwarf. But without so much as a word of complaint or comment, she shakes her head and diverts her attention back to Leliana. Perhaps determined to keep herself out of it this time. Not that we don't know her ideals on the matter to begin with.

If one were to ask, she would probably respond in the same idealistic manner as Hawke, and eventually argue in favor of the circle, while at the same time condemning it's current practices.

"This attack proves the Divine is right," Leliana interjects, "and we now have proof of our suspicions."

"Are you saying you set this whole thing up?" Hawke asks. His voice rises at the end.

"I let word slip that an agent of the Divine was coming to investigate the mage troubles. It is how they chose to react which condemns them."

A cunning spy indeed, turning their own scheming pathways against them.

Hawke pivots his weight onto one leg and rubs at the back of his head. "A few, ah, wild cards aside, Grand Cleric Elthina has it all under control. Please don't do anything dire. We still have a chance for peace!"

"And provocations don't help." Aveline glares at the woman.

Leliana pauses. "Divine Justinia takes the situation here very seriously," she says. "She believes it is the worst threat to Thedas since the Qunari invaded."

"A handful of apostates?" Sebastian scoffs. "How can that possibly . . ." He spreads his arms out wide and shakes his head, at a loss for further words.

Leliana regards the speechless prince. "The whole world is watching Kirkwall. If it falls to magic, none of us are safe."

"None of you," Anders grumbles.

Yet, another reason to distrust the mutinous mage. Why Serena and Hawke insist on believing in him is a mystery for the ages.

Serena grasps onto Leliana's left arm. "Leli, please. I understand yours and the Divine's concerns, but please try to convince her not to initiate a march. You must know that can't be the answer."

Leliana stares down at the pleading warden, her eyes full of a mixture of coldness and sympathy, but eventually settling on the prior. "I . . . will try my best to help minimize any potential bloodshed," she says. "That's all I can do."

"Leli . . ." Serena shrinks away, her voice lowering with more shock.

Leliana focuses back on Hawke, her cold gaze persisting. "Tell Elthina to leave. There is refuge for her at the Grand Cathedral in Orlais. She will not be safe here." She shakes her head and walks away, back through the throne room doors.

Serena watches her swift departure, glances back at the rest of us, then hurries after the spy down the hall.

Hopefully with her help and privacy this stranger may still be reasoned with.


SERENA

Leliana and I now sit on a stone bench in the outdoor courtyard, at the foot of the Keep's steps. Pale moonlight beams down on us from overhead, casting winding shadows across the nearby tiles, from the vine-lined trellis situated behind us.

Leliana stares down at the indistinguishable vignette, her gaze focused, stern. Nothing like the kindhearted, adventurous rogue from our past. It tears a hole in my heart. Making me worry.

"Leli, what's happened to you since I've been away? Why do you seem so cold all of a sudden?" I ask, unable to keep my silence on the change any longer.

Leliana perks her head up, her eyes widening with confused shock. "Cold? I—" Her expression softens, turning serious again. "I am merely trying to fulfill my duties to the Divine and to the Maker. If I seem cold, I apologize. However, you must understand. For people in our position, we are expected to make difficult decisions on behalf of the greater good."

"And you think condoning an exalted march and the killing of innocents is for the greater good?"

Leliana frowns and lowers her head. "We may have no choice."

"There is always a choice!" I grasp onto her arm. "Weren't you the one who once told me that?"

Leliana bites her lip and closes her eyes.

I recognize the look. I've experienced it many times myself, especially during my time as a warden. It's a look of resignation, uncertainty, and defeat. The expression of a trapped person, thrust into a position of power, torn them between desire and duty.

It makes my fists clench. "Alright. I get it. I won't push this any further today. I promise," I relent, sympathizing with the comparison. After all, I know how difficult that is myself.

Leliana relaxes at this, and I give her my best empathetic smile.

"I know you're doing your best," I acknowledge. "I'm just worried about you is all."

Leliana sighs, and with a soft quirk of her lips, places her cool hand on mine. "Thank you . . . I've been worried about you, as well. Alistair and I had sent out so many agents to try to locate you over the years, when you vanished from Vigil's Keep. But we could not find any leads. And when Zevran contacted me not too long afterwards, trying to track you and your clan down as well, I feared the worst . . . or assumed you might not want to be found. If you managed to meet up with him again though, it seems such worries were unnecessary."

"Yes, about that," I mutter, squirming in place. "That's . . . actually a recent development. Less than a week, in fact."

I go on to explain everything, at her insistence.

How I left my post at Amaranthine in order to go find Zevran. How when I assumed he'd been killed in one of his payback attempts, I escaped to Kirkwall by ship. And how with the help of most of my friends here, I'm finally free from yet another pursuing magister, who's hunted me for years. But as a result of said madness, now several other problems have reared their heads.

Me being a Dreamer. My clan's betrayal. Corypheus. The Haven woman and the Divine. And now, even the tensions going on between me, Zevran, Hawke, and Fenris. In other words: a conglomerate of new outrageous problems, causing massive distress. That only seems to be getting worse.

"I see. That must have been very difficult for you, then. I cannot imagine," Leliana mutters with a pitying shake of her head.

The weight bears down harder on me than ever. "I don't know what to do, Leli," I confess, hunching forward and burying my face in my hands. "I'm so confused! Solving the blight was simpler than solving all of this!"

Leliana puts one hand on my shoulder. "Hm. I'm sure you must be feeling quite overwhelmed . . . I will keep an ear out for information about this Haven woman. But in regards to her involvement of the Divine, I do not believe she would ever willingly entangle herself with such monsters. Something . . . Something about this is not right."

She pauses and scowls off into the distance. Thinking, maybe. But failing to find an answer.

Leliana turns toward me again. A playful look abruptly sparkles in her eyes. "Now, as for your love troubles," she says, nudging me with a smirk. "I think you should be bold and speak your mind. If they all care for you, like you claim they say they do, I am sure they will listen and try their best to understand."

I sigh. "I-I know. I know that," I whisper. "That isn't the problem. Not really, anyways."

"Then, what is it?" Leliana lifts a peculiar eyebrow at me.

"Me! I-I shouldn't even be feeling this way! The People, they . . . I mean, we . . . We've always been taught that we're only meant to have one bonded partner in life. For me, I always thought that would be Tamlen. But then . . . he died, and I fell for Zevran. I made an oath to him, in front of the gods. And now . . . here I am. Feeling like this regardless! About someone I'm not bonded to. One of them even being a human! You know how the People treat humans!"

Leliana nods. "I won't presume to fully understand Dalish culture. However, what I do know is this: you have always forged your own path going forward. Why must you confine yourself to the old ways when deciding every aspect of your new life? Do you not believe you deserve the right to choose, after being forced to change so much already?"

"I-I don't know." I hesitate. "Maybe?" I groan and lower my head. "Even if I were to agree with such a sentiment, I don't even know what that would mean in a situation like this. It's . . . unfamiliar territory, to say the least."

And an unwelcome one at that.

"You'll only know the answer once you've talked to them about it," Leliana insists. "And that . . . That you know must be done."

I grunt and pinch the bridge of my nose.

I swear, as much as I adore this woman, I hate when she points out something so obvious. It makes avoiding it that much harder. Because now . . . Now that she's put the words out in the open, and recognized it as the inevitable solution I should be aware of, then that must mean the others have come to such a conclusion as well. And that they're just waiting for me to take action.

Dread wolf take me . . .

I'm not ready for this.

"What about your Dreamer status?" Leliana asks, disrupting the current topic. "Have you considered reaching out to the circle for help?"

"No. With everything going on here in Kirkwall, I don't think I can trust any of them now. I've been trying to study an old book I found, covering it, but it's proving . . . difficult. I just can't seem to wrap my head around some of the more practical concepts, and I'm too scared to try to practice any of it on my own since I don't have the vaguest clue on what I'm doing."

Gods, just picturing a botched attempt makes my insides churn. Whatever the consequences may be.

I sigh.

"I might need to reach out to one of our old Tevinter contacts for advice. He's a Dreamer as well. The last we saw him though, he was just a young boy, struggling to master his own powers himself. So, I'm not sure how fruitful such efforts might be . . ."

"It is still worth a shot," Leliana says. "Mastering a new skill like this will take time and a good mentor. Do not give up hope just yet."

I smile at her. Her warm assurance touching my soul. "It really is good to see you again, Leli. I've really missed you."

"And I, you." The two of us hook our arms and lean against each other like we used to. "Perhaps when all this is over, you can come visit me in Orlais? I could take you to all the best shoe shops and restaurants! Oh, it would be lovely!"

"You and your shoes!" I laugh. "It seems that part of you still hasn't changed."

"Of course! What did you expect? Fashionable shoes are important for any woman's wardrobe!"

The two of us giggle and fall into an agreeable silence together. Both of us humming, perhaps recalling similar such banters, by the comfort of our old camp bonfires.

The memories are heartwarming, and I'm so glad to see her again.

During the blight, I met so many good friends like her. Ones that helped change my perception of the world, that helped me grow into the individual I am today. Who challenged me, and supported me, even when I lacked confidence in myself.

But those days are long over now.

We're all taking our own separate paths in life, pursuing our own different goals and missions. And as much as I'd love to just fall back and relive the good old days by sneaking away to Orlais for a visit, Leliana's right. It's time I start repaving my own path going forward again. For me to speak my mind.

I'm no longer stuck in the gilded cage of my past, confined to looking only one way at things all the time. But I'll also never know what other options might exist by hiding or refusing to stick my neck out to discover said other options, as scary, painful, or awkward as they may be.

And since when have I allowed fear to rule my life anyways?

Yes, I've been afraid and shied away from emotional conversations in the past. That's undeniable. Emotional conversations have never been my strong suit. But how long has it been since I've tackled my own personal problems head on? Determined to actually reach a solution with force, rather than just putting it off? Three years? Six? Since I first went looking for Zevran?

No more.

Hawke, Fenris, and Zevran deserve better than that. The others deserve better than that. And I . . . I deserve better than that. And it's high time I start acting like it. For them. For me. For all of our future happiness and success. No more brooding about just thinking about it. We all need to move forward, wherever that might lead.

I gulp down the anxiety induced nerves building from said decision—the motivation appreciated, but the actions to complete the required tasks still daunting.

"Leli, in all seriousness, I would love to come visit you, eventually," I admit, pursing my lips, returning to our current situation. "But . . . until things calm down with the templars and the circle, my friends need me here, in Kirkwall. So, please. Please try your best to advise against a march, and we'll do our best to resolve things peacefully here in the meanwhile."

Leliana sits up straight and stares down at me again. "You make it so difficult to refuse," she sighs, lowering her head. "Alright. I will do what I can. But I warn you, if anything more happens, there is not much I will be able to do."

"Thank you. Thank you, Leli!" I hug her. "I promise, we'll try not to let anything more happen! Even if I have to beat some templar or mage butts to do it!"

Leliana giggles and pats me on the back. When I release her, she's smiling at me again with her usual, tender affection. "I should get going now," she says, turning serious once more. The kindness melting away. "The Divine will be waiting for me."

I nod, still not liking this colder seriousness the Divine keeps bringing on. "Travel safe, lethallan." I squeeze onto her hand. "I hope to see you again, sometime soon."

Leliana stands up and bows her head to me. "Until the next time then, my friend."

And with that final word of parting, Leliana struts her way out of the Hightown courtyard, disappearing out of sight around a nearby corner. My doubts on her situation still lingering, as I contemplate how to confront my own personal struggles, lying ahead.