All knew the Golden Heart of dreams' kingdom

Shone like a star, forever out of reach.

No mortal foot could tread those halls,

No hand knocked upon the gate.

Secrets beyond measure were the keys

The Choir of Silence would need, and they had few.

Silence 1:6

Despite her headache, Veldrin's mood significantly improved once she descended to the veranda, to have a breakfast that was closer to the hour of lunch; normally, the lady Pavus made it a point to have the table settings removed, just to show her errant son and his wife that there were still domains where she wielded absolute power, Magister or no Magister, Inquisitor or no Inquisitor.

This morning, however, the Lady Pavus had found a different source of entertainment, and breakfast was still set at half an hour to eleven. The lady herself was still sitting – something utterly unimaginable, if the person she was sitting across the table from had not been Cassandra Penthaghast, the absolutely wrong Divine.

Veldrin could not outright tell what Dorian's mother was needling Cassandra with, and it was quite irrelevant – Cassandra looked…well, she looked rather disconcerted and caught on the completely wrong foot, as she had not even looked when she'd been facing dragons and giants. Because, of course, one could defend oneself against dragons and giants, and be abrupt to companions, yet no such possibility existed against a tiny, dried-up woman, knocking on her seventh decade, who was absolutely determined to poke holes in one's armour. Not with swords or fangs, but with knitting needles.

It was obvious that Cassandra could not get a word in edgeways, and she was on the receiving end of a thrashing such as she'd probably never received in her entire life. She was too polite to interrupt or stand away from the table – so, trapped by her own good manners, she could do naught but fidget and make vain attempts at interrupting the lady Pavus' tirade. In her corner, the lady Pavus looked flushed with delight, and was probably espousing her very considered opinions on everything on how the Divine should never be seen out of her robes, to the fact that having a woman at the head of the Chantry showed exactly why the south was so barbaric and decadent, as all knew women should not carry authority in the public domain, and should be the exclusive keepers of the bloodlines.

Not that there were any bloodlines worth preserving in the south, of course – and yes, Nevarra was south, just in case anyone doubted it. The north was merely an euphemism for civilisation.

Deciding that her old friend had suffered enough, Veldrin bowed her head to disguise a smile and opened the door to the veranda. Cassandra's face lit up with such relief as only the sight of Andraste herself might have surpassed; surprised by the change of expression on her victim's features, lady Pavus looked over her shoulder, and smirked.

'Good morning, mother,' Veldrin said, brightly, then, though the elderly woman's eyes had widened in horror, she leaned over and pecked her on the cheek, causing her to become as stiff as a wooden plank.

'Well, I never!' the lady Pavus exclaimed, in outrage.

She briskly stood, and folded her napkin to gingerly deposit it aside her plate. She then spun on her heels, and departed, slamming the door behind her – the very image of injured dignity.

'Thank the Maker!' Cassandra breathed, slumping in her seat. 'My entire life was flashing before my eyes!'

'Had you started remembering any long-dead relatives you failed to pay homage to?' Veldrin chuckled, circling the table to extend her hand; Cassandra stood, and shook it vigurously.

'I had a grand-grand-grand aunt that sprang to mind, yes.' She laughed, in turn. 'Andraste's mercy, that woman must be descended from harpies.'

'Did you even manage to get a bite to eat?' Veldrin asked, inviting her old friend to regain her seat.

'No,' Cassandra answered, sitting back down, 'but I did get forced to drink something black and very bitter…'

'Ah, coffee!' Veldrin excitedly exclaimed, taking a seat next to the Divine, and reaching for the now cold pot.

'You actually like…that?' Cassandra asked, with a disgusted frown. 'It's the most terrible thing I have ever tasted.'

'Takes some getting used to,' Veldrin said, smiling, 'but then, many things do.'

'Indeed so,' Cassandra nodded. 'I am sorry I came in unannounced,' she began. 'The treaty negotiations will not start until tomorrow, and I did not want to hang about the Argent Spire feeling watched, the entire day. Aren't you eating?' she asked, taking in her friend's pale features with motherly concern. 'Every time I see you, you're thinner…'

Veldrin's stomach growled in protest, revealing the fact that the pallor was in no way due to food deprivation, and Cassandra laughed again, though she tried to give the elf a stern glance.

'You should see Dorian, if he gets up before dusk,' Veldrin innocently shrugged.

'I do not understand what fiendish constitution you two have,' the Divine sighed, 'but I shall admit that mine is no match, and with your permission…'

She gestured towards the barely touched platters.

'Have at it,' Veldrin said, feeling happy that Cassandra didn't stand on ceremony, and truly helped herself to some smoked fish. She looked over her shoulder to a waiting slave. 'You don't have to stand there anymore, Maeris, I think I've scared the lady Pavus out of having lunch downstairs today.'

'Ya sure?' the slave returned, sounding relieved.

'Pretty sure,' Veldrin nodded. 'If you could do me a favour, and have a fresh pot of coffee made for the Magister, you can take off until about dinner time.'

'Cheers,' the other elf said, in a relaxed tone. 'Dontcha want all this stuff collected, though?'

'Can find the kitchen on my own,' Veldrin chuckled, wiggling the tips of her ears. 'It's a racial!'

'Innit,' the servant chuckled; she started for the door, then paused, with her hand on the gilded, elaborate handle. 'What should we do 'bout the other lady?'

Cassandra stiffened and cast a furtive glance to the side.

'Ah,' Veldrin said, 'she'll have to come out and fetch her own food, I fear. Would be nice for her to actually exchange a greeting with her hosts.'

The servant shrugged, and departed without further words. Vel looked at Cassandra though the corner of her eye – it was reassuring to note that the Divine had blushed a little.

'If I could have told you last night, I would have,' Cassandra said, with an apologetic shrug, 'but…'

'But Leliana warned you off it,' Veldrin said, letting a small note of reproach into her voice – to her further reassurance, Cassandra decisively shook her head.

'She did,' the Divine answered, now reaching for a cut of cold beef, 'but contrary to some opinions, I don't always listen to Leliana. I simply got swarmed by a lot of people everyone insisted I just have to meet and speak to, and by the time I even kissed a glass of wine without having to describe my crossing to Minrathous, and be polite about the wonders of the Imperium, you and Dorian had gone. Pretty early,' Cassandra said, arching an eyebrow. 'Never knew you or Leliana to leave a party before there was dancing on tables.'

Veldrin felt safe enough to outright frown; at least Cassandra seemed not to hate her on sight.

'I doubt I, Dorian and Leliana will have any sort of pleasant interlude any time soon,' she said, rather less dryly than she might have liked. 'Myself and her, in particular had a very brief brush in which less than polite greetings were extended…'

Cassandra smiled wryly. 'Less polite than your greeting to me?'

Veldrin laughed, and scratched the back of her head. 'I apologise,' she said. 'It was said to be heard by other ears than yours.'

'I know,' the Divine said. 'Must be good to escape the shadow of the Herald title; I know you squirmed under it. Are you truly not eating?' she asked. 'That black concoction will burn a hole in your stomach.'

'I'll nick something from the kitchen, later,' Veldrin said, decisively shaking her head. 'Makes my mother irate. What is with you, though? You are eating like a wolf, if I dare say so.'

'I am famished,' Cassandra simply responded. 'In this I listened to Leliana, I didn't touch anything last night, at the banquet or in my quarters.'

'Are you sure she did not warn you off our food as well?' Veldrin sourly asked.

The Divine reproachfully glanced at the former Inquisitor. 'No, she did not. Don't take her caution too much to heart, Inquisitor – she is truly rattled by Minrathous, and, well, her trust in overall humanity has taken blow after blow. It is also, admittedly, that…'

She bit her lower lip, and hesitated, before following.

'It is very strange how you managed to survive here, Veldrin. Your mother in law looks at you like you were some sort of poisonous weed; half the room, last eve, whispered of how indecent your hair was, as if you had been showing off your bare bosom. Still, Archon Radonis had his arm around your shoulders when you introduced me, and Leliana's sources say that you might well become the first elven Magister, if…'

'If I and Dorian have a child, yes,' Veldrin sighed, rolling her eyes.

'Fat chance o'that,' Maeris, the servant, said, with a wink; she took the pot of cold coffee out of her mistress' hopeful reach. 'Nay, drink it proper,' she scolded, putting the hot one down. 'Off with me?' she asked.

'Off with you,' Vel nodded, smiling. 'Tell them to wake the Magister if he really sleeps past noontime; if he wakes at five, hair of the dog will gather a wholly different meaning…'

The other elf chuckled knowingly, and nodded. 'Eat something, lethallan, you will catch your death of fasting 'pon sunrise, ya an' the young master. Shem, and children,' Maeris said, shaking her head in Cassandra's direction, as if Cassandra had been the only person who had the capacity to grasp her meaning.

She left, and Cassandra smiled.

'I wish Leliana had seen this,' she said.

'What?' Veldrin frowned. 'Maeris calling me lethellan? Or her caring whether Dorian, her owner, eats or not?'

'You,' Cassandra shrugged, getting more smoked fish. 'You are very much still you. And, I gather,' she followed, with less enthusiasm, 'Dorian is still Dorian. There will…there will never be an heir, will there?' she asked, biting her lower lip.

'No, there will not be one,' Veldrin said, drinking her hot coffee and disliking it at least as much as Solas despised tea.

Cassandra took a sip of coffee and smirked horribly at the taste as well.

'I would say something, Inquisitor,' she said.

'This is a democracy,' Vel sighed, knowing what Cassandra would say before she said it.

'You and Dorian have a great, historical chance – he could be Archon, you could be Magister; you could change worlds if only you both let go of that bit of…'

'That bit of everything that makes me into me,' Dorian said, not merely opening the doors to the veranda, but parting them into seas of different waters. 'Or that bit of everything that makes Vel into Vel – a little personal sacrifice that does not matter to anyone. Oh, why can we not get over ourselves and get on with getting it on? I could just stop preferring men, and Vel could just stop fooling around like she's Dalish or something…Which she obviously is not, since she can read and use a salad fork, as everyone from Halamshiral to the Argent Spire can attest; she's already human, why would having human children be such a jump? Those tiny, little sacrifices we could make to change Tevinter…'

'…Together.' Cassandra said, softly.

'Coffee,' the man groaned, crashing in his seat, across from his wife, and pushing the plates forward to rest his forehead on the table. He grasped the cup Veldrin gave him in blind. 'Good morning, Mother Giselle,' he sighed. 'I missed you so much.'

'Your glib tongue still does you no credit, Dorian,' Cassandra replied, with a little disapproving frown.

'And my mother's capacity for seeing me as a perpetual five year-old seems infections even after limited exposure,' he muttered, taking a sip of his coffee and sighing with pleasure. 'I take it you have met my mother, yes?'

'Indeed,' Cassandra answered. 'It was a mercifully short acquaintance, though probably informative – I might bump hats with your Divine, but I assume your mother's feelings in my regard are what most of the Imperium thinks, yet will not voice.'

Dorian chuckled. 'I am glad for your clarity, and you are very correct, but it is not only your title that inspires such loathing. It is you, personally, for having dared marry us – if you had not, she might have defeated me by exhaustion.'

'To be honest,' the Divine softly said, 'when you two spoke of marriage, I understood the context very well, and I appreciated your courage. The fact that I knew you would break your vows as you made them did not make me very comfortable, yet… I had still hoped that if you understood one political gesture for what it was, you would go through and complete it, as many other politically significant couples do.'

'Oh,' Veldrin said, with a giggle, 'so you are dispensing the same advice to Empress Celene, I gather? I mean, Briala is nice on the side, but, you know, a clean line of inheritance for the throne of Orlais is of far greater importance to the continent than the line of House Pavus, right?'

'I would,' Cassandra earnestly shrugged, 'but she is too old for child bearing.'

'While we still have three decades at least to be subjected to the dryly grinding millstones of the small-minded, eh?' Dorian muttered.

'Thirty years, Dorian?' Vel laughed. 'Aren't you flattering yourself just a tad?'

'Not at all,' the man answered, looking more lively as he finished his first cup and reached for a second. 'My grandfather had the last of my uncles when he was five and seventy.'

'Is this the uncle with the wonky eye?' the elf queried, arching an eyebrow.

'He also drools in his soup, but he is a Pavus,' Dorian replied; Cassandra's glance softened.

'I did not mean to blunder into your lives, iron boots and tall hat and all,' she sincerely said. 'It is just that I have seen people who actively hated each other who managed to visit each other's bed once a month. You two are as thick as thieves, and yet…'

Veldrin exchanged a glance with her husband – it was odd, she thought. They had been weathering this speech for years, and most of those who insisted upon having their say on the matter did not wish the couple ill. She'd seen that years ago, in Redcliffe, even before Dorian himself had, and she had understood it more and more after she'd joined him in Minrathous.

For however misguided his actions, Halward Pavus had loved his son and had simply meant to make his path…not even in the Magisterium, but in life – easier. If anyone in the House was truly, deeply ashamed of Dorian's proclivities, it was his mother, who could truly not see past them…Past what she probably perceived as her mistake, either in upbringing or, even more terrifyingly, as a fault in her blood.

It was this simple notion that kept Veldrin from hating the old woman, despite the fact that in duels of words, she gave as good as she got. The Gods only knew what it must have felt like to be bred for one purpose, one task only, and then to so utterly fail at it, after an entire existence of miserable sacrifice.

'I did not mean to…' Cassandra offered, awkwardly but warmly patting Veldrin's hand.

'You didn't,' Dorian said. 'It's just a song we hear constantly in a choir of voices – at least you're singing it with some knowledge of who we actually are. But, Cassandra,' he followed, looking very serious, as he not often did, 'whether one has intercourse, with whom, and with what results is not a legitimate political promotion criterion in my eyes. Thaedas may feel entitled to sneak a peek in the beds of their kings and queens, but the Imperium is, at least on a declarative level, a parliamentary democracy.'

'One in which you are both handicapping yourselves,' the Divine said, softly; she sounded unsure of herself, which was probably why, Veldrin considered, Dorian did not grow as vitriolic at the discourse as he normally did. Or maybe it was not that – maybe he was happy enough with all that he had to stop fighting battles he would obviously never win.

He was still not overly inclined to mince words. 'Very well, your worship,' he said, smiling brightly. 'We'll have a child when the Southern Chantry starts introducing virginity checks for new sisters. Reasonable timeline, no?'

Cassandra rolled her eyes. 'The reason why people mistake you for a five-year old is because you sometimes do go out of your way to behave like one, Magister. As you wish, then; let it not be said I did not at least attempt it.' she said. 'I am awful at political machinations,' she sighed.

'Just a bit transparent,' Veldrin said, smiling. 'You still say what you mean to say, how you mean to say it.'

'That's not necessarily a good thing, Inquisitor,' the Divine answered. 'I have to admit that I am even mentioning this because I am not liking the road ahead; Celene truly does not have an heir, and you, in your great and somewhat ill-advised mercy, let Gaspard live. He has heirs, and they have supporters... Ferelden is equally unstable in its line of succession – Queen Anora does have three children, but all the world whispers they are not the King's. Once either of them passes, there will be turmoil, and I am not shy in saying that I would rather have at least a chance of an Archon who'd not pounce on the opportunity.'

'In other words,' she ended, 'I am not thinking about your bedchamber, I am thinking about Thaedas. I wish you had not crushed the Qun that decisively,' Cassandra sighed, being altogether too honest, and making Veldrin laugh.

'It's not like we invaded Par Vollen,' the elf said. 'They'll be back in thirty years, worry not.'

'Besides,' Dorian picked up, 'I don't know if you managed to have a good look at the state of this, our glorious capital, but I promise you that if Iron Bull were to magically appear in Three Imperators Square and jump up and down twice, the entire city would physically crumble. We're hardly in a position to wage war on anyone. Especially on friends and allies,' he ended, with a thin smile.

The Divine shook her head. 'I am unsure Radonis sees it quite that way, Dorian. In fact, I am unsure of anything that Radonis thinks…'

'I truly do love you, Cassandra,' Dorian laughed, with no ill will. 'I am very sure many share your predicament in what regards Radonis' thought processes. The one thing we will tell you, however,' he followed, reaching across the table to take Veldrin's hand, 'is that he would not think much of us telling you what we think he thinks.'

'We can assure you that it is not war,' Veldrin added, looking Cassandra in the eyes. 'At least not for now, and at least now how you would conventionally define it.'

'I see,' the former Seeker grunted, crossing her arms over her chest. 'I should really leave this game stuff to Leliana,' she huffed, 'though let me tell you, the amount of we I am hearing would sting her twice more than it does me.'

Veldrin shrugged. 'Shared adversity is the mother and father of all common pronouns, Cassandra. We've not had an easy time here, and servants checking our sheets for stains or nobles being outraged at my ears are but the surface of it all. You'd not have had your Inquisition…'

'Last I looked, it was our Inquisition,' the Divine responded, briskly.

'But it is gone,' the elf shrugged, not knowing that the tips of her ears were lowered in sadness. 'If I were you, my old friend, I would not hold much hope for the peace treaties we're labouring on now to last, because they will not. It doesn't even have to be the Imperium – do you genuinely think that if an offshoot of Gaspard ascends to Celene's throne after she is gone, and Ferelden has a long war of succession, the Orlesians won't jump?'

Cassandra smiled, sadly. 'You've grown cynical, Vel.'

The elf looked aside and took a deep breath. 'Merely too old, too fast. The Inquisition is gone…'

'You dissolved it,' Cassandra answered, reproachfully.

'Yes, well, I missed Arl Teagan's head once; I am unsure it might have been wise for me to have a chance at a re-take,' Veldrin said, 'because I promise you, I do not miss twice. I was tired and hurt, and I truly wanted nothing more to do with the Chantry – especially not with Vivienne elected Grand Enchanter.'

'By the vast majority of the small minority of mages she even recognises as peers,' Dorian chuckled, lifting his coffee cup in a mock toast.

The Divine rolled her eyes. 'Yes,' she muttered, 'If Vivienne could revert to the way in which magic was handled after the very first Blight, she would, and that is giving me no end of headaches. She will provoke another Kirkwall, if she keeps going as she is.'

'So, there,' the elf followed, picking up a small desert fork and beginning to draw arcane patterns with it on the table cloth, 'my choice was a bit obvious. Thaedas only adored me as long as I was the Herald of Andraste. I am no such thing, I never was such a thing, and I did not wish to wear that mask for a single moment longer than I had to. Once I shed it, though, I returned to being a non-circle elven mage. Thaedas hates both parts of who I am; the Imperium only hates one, and at least they have the decency to hate me to my face.'

Cassandra shook her head. 'I never let myself think you felt that way, nor did we ever think ill of you, Vel – neither I, nor Cullen, nor Josie. Nor Leliana, in her heart of hearts.'

Veldrin narrowed her eyes. 'We'll see,' she said, rather more coldly than she'd intended, decisively setting the fork down, in perfect alignment to the rest of the rest of the cutlery, as if squaring the entire conversation to the side. Cassandra shook her head in confused sorrow.

'What did happen with Leliana, last night?' the Divine asked.

'Morrigan happened,' Dorian responded, dryly. 'Not to mention some uncharacteristically off the cuff remarks about wolf pelts of whatever gender…Speaking of which,' he cheerfully switched discourse, 'where is Morrigan? I am pretty sure she didn't join our enchanting debauchery last night, but then, I blacked out before dawn, so…' he added, just for the pleasure of watching Cassandra pale.

'Maybe she decided she prefers the barrel she travelled in to our company,' Vel said, cranking her nose. 'I certainly haven't seen her.'

To the elf's surprise, Cassandra lowered her glance. 'I am unsure of whether this is good or bad news to you, Veldrin,' she said, slowly, 'but Morrigan is under very strict orders not to speak with either of you if Leliana is not present.'

'Say again?' Dorian asked, briskly leaning forward; if his ears had been pointed, Vel thought, they might have visibly perked. As was, his moustache bristled, and Cassandra shifted uneasily.

No wonder, Veldrin thought, biting her lower lip. None of them had seen him serious or angry, and he was on the verge of becoming very furious now.

'That is perhaps best left for Leliana to explain,' Cassandra replied, to her credit, not sounding intimidated.

'No, your worship,' the man said, his polite tone radiating cold. 'You explain it, because I am beginning to feel played. I have kept my part of my agreement with yourself and Leliana, but this is as far as it goes.'

'You're off the mark, Dorian,' Cassandra sternly said, cutting him off, and visibly growing angry in her turn. 'It's not you that Leliana wants to watch. It's Morrigan.'

'And why, pray tell?' the Magister insisted.

'Because,' the Divine hissed, 'while the travelling in a barrel might be an exaggeration, I assure you Morrigan did not come here of her own accord, and the persuasions she was subjected to were rather less than gentle.'

Ah, and...minor greetings and salutations, Abstract & IVIaedhros here. We're a bit far from our regular playing field here, but those who might already know us from our normal haunts probably suspect that things are about to get pretty dark very soon. For those of you just getting to know us, well...Things are going to get pretty dark, very soon :)

Thank you for reading and commenting :)