But the designs of Beauty's High Priest demanded more.

No small sacrifice would open the gate.

And so the High Priest of Silence went forth again.

Silence 1:11; 1-3.

'You two truly look handsome together,' Leliana remarked, glancing up at the portrait of Dorian and Veldrin which reigned above the mantle piece in the main library. Veldrin looked up and smiled, falsely and brightly.

'Dorian is a man of great aesthetic flair,' Vel said.

And one of uncompromising audacity, Leliana thought to answer, but narrowed her eyes and remained silent.

The painter had not omitted Veldrin's vallaslin, but he had tamed their colour from deep red to dull ochre. All the colour he'd spared had gone into the glow of Veldrin's eyes, which were unnaturally bright.

Unwillingly, Leliana contrasted the painting with Marquise Briala's first official portrait in Halamshiral. Of course, neither the city elf nor her illustrious lover had gone as far as to have their likeness taken together, so Briala had posed alone, her dress but a shade lighter than the Orlesian colours, and so covered in sapphires and amethists that it was fortunate that she gracefully leaned her hand upon the gilded frame of an empty velvet seat, adorned with a lion's head, for else, she might have toppled over. Her royal lover may have been absent, but the Orlesian throne was not, and the symbolism of grasping ambition had not been wasted on many.

Here, the Dowager had caustically remarked upon the grand unveiling, stands a woman who'd chop off the tips of her ears if they did not fit under her crown…excuse me, hat.

Veldrin, on the other hand, sat like one who'd had learned how to play the game, very fast, to very different steps, and to very different music.

Some of the music, Leliana considered, had certainly been composed by Dorian Pavus, yet Veldrin had added her own notes, with far less ostentation but to far greater effect than Briala. The materials of Veldrin's clothes were pure Tevinter, neither modest nor striking – deep dark velvet, the two ascending dragons of the Imperium's banner embroidered in heavy silver thread on the left side of the dress, along her thigh and over her shoulder…one of them, Leliana noted actually positioned in such a way that it appeared to be resting its head on Veldrin's left breast.

Lovely touch. Probably Dorian's.

The cut of the dress was unmistakably one of a mage's ceremonial robe, with tiny, all but unnoticeable rebellious departures from the norm – there was no corset, and there was no sign of the hip-embellishing understructure still so adored in the Imperium and Orlais alike. Tevinter cloth, perhaps, but Dalish cut discrete enough not to be offensive, yet in no way disguised.

Vel's vallaslin may have been dulled, but her impeccably fashionable braid left her pointy ears on full, unashamed display. For what was even better, the speared sun which was the symbol of the Northern Chantry rose around her hair and ears like an aurora, and it took an onlooker of some great attention to realise that the symbol was not the regular, solid adornment of imperial grand dames, but rather embroidered on her husband's tunic, creating an attentive trompe l'oeil…The picture of a woman that straddled two worlds, and was effortlessly at home in both – a creature so at ease with her station that she neither felt the need to humbly comply, nor ostentatiously challenge.

'A bit out of your element with Dalish shoes, or the lack thereof, Leliana?' Veldrin asked, in mock solicitude.

Caught in odd and meandering thoughts, Leliana spun on herself, yet found not one, but two pairs of golden eyes set upon her; the sensation of something amiss that she'd sought to chase by analysing the portrait grew about her once more, the discrete miasma of a poisonous flower.

'It is not only shoes that Sister Nightingale is out of her element with, I wager.' Morrigan off handedly agreed, with far more daring than her position might have justified.

For all the time that she had spent around the practitioners of the arcane, Leliana herself was none the wiser in their arts, so, reluctantly, she'd considered that Morrigan and Veldrin were best placed to keep each other in check, and neither was likely to make questionable alterations to the eluvian, or take unexpected trips to the Crossroads while the other was watching.

Or at least so Leliana had hoped.

She'd expected subdued tension, yet the witch's manner around Veldrin was just short of openly rude. Not out of scholarly superiority, as it had been before the secrets of Mythal's temple had come to light, but rather…rather the attitude of one who knew an opponent's secret and could use it to keep them in check.

An odd approach for one who was a prisoner in all but name, and even stranger when considered that Veldrin and Dorian were the only two who had manifested any sort of sympathy for Kieran…

For her part, Veldrin had paid the eluvian superficial attention at best: aside for a few reparation suggestions of a purely mechanical or aesthetic nature, she'd barely approached the thing, while Morrigan's sly attempts at irony had left the elf utterly untouched.

A lot seemed to leave Veldrin untouched.

For one who had been so adamant on keeping their plans as secret from Radonis as possible just the day before, Veldrin appeared to have undergone a complete change of mind, and, since morning, had comprised a startlingly mundane list of materials she deemed necessary for the eluvian's restoration, and dispatched them to the Archon's offices in the Magisterium with the air of a spoiled kept woman sending in the grocery list for a banquet.

Nothing of great import, of course – a few vials of mercury, some carefully cut pieces of a special parasitic wood that never stopped growing and would have to be kept well away from any other piece of furniture in the house, some focus gems, several types of poison and two bottles of the brandy that had been served at Cassandra's welcome reception…all in all, nothing Leliana assumed could not be found at the nearest magical emporium.

The entire exaggerated familiarity of the thing, Leliana unpleasantly thought, could only have been designed for one specific reason, and that was to show that Veldrin Lavellan was queen of her domain, here, with far higher protection than that of her husband and patron alone.

A warning, of course, Leliana thought, but whether it was intended at herself or Morrigan, she could not guess, and she did not like being left guessing.

Once more she congratulated herself on having verified the mirror's functionality back in Orlais, and felt pleased that Dorian and Veldrin had not kept the fact that the mirror actually worked a secret from the Archon. Given the Magisterium's friendly solicitude, she had no doubt that she could not have kept scores of Magisters from swarming all over the object, with naught but helpfulness in mind.

The question of its re-introduction to the Crossroads remained a thorny one, however, and Morrigan assured that such a thing could only be attempted once the eluvian was placed in its final position, a fact that Leliana herself could not verify – not without spreading word of its existence far further than she was willing to let it travel. She'd not had the feeling that she could trust either Fiona or Vivienne, though she was intimately convinced that the latter would have assisted against Solas with enthusiasm bordering on glee; the problem, of course, was the fact that it was impossible to know how far Solas had infiltrated the Circles of Magi and the College of Enchanters, and that he need not even had done so at a high level. A tranquil archivist or a scribe might have been sufficient to spread the knowledge that Leliana's crows were looking into the Crossroads, while she had been keen to convince any attentive onlooker that she was still waging the long lost battle of finding Theadas' missing elves.

''Tis so awkward to chaperone when one is not even certain of what naughty might mean,' Morrigan added, at length, letting Leliana know that her discomfort was visible.

'I expect some cooperation,' the Nightingale replied, smiling thinly.

'It must also be awkward not to know how to define cooperation,' Veldrin said, looking up from her book – though it was not in Leliana's nature, she felt oddly irritated. Not only by the fact that she now felt assured that the witch of the wilds and the elf had had some form of communication she was unaware of, but by the fact that the massive tome in Vel's arms was written in Tevene, and the elf was taking abundant notes in the same language, one that Leliana did not understand.

'What is that?' she queried, gesturing towards the elf's parchments.

'Ars Publicum Oratiae,' Veldrin answered, showing Leliana the book's binding. 'Art of public speaking,' she chuckled. 'I am trying to cheat my way through a debate in the Publicanium1 in about an hour.'

'You are going nowhere,' Leliana said, dryly; the elf's smile grew as wide as a half moon.

'I am not? I wish someone had informed me of that before I craftily stole all these quotes.' Veldrin said. 'Not to mention informing the Publicanium itself; I think we shall have to agree to disagree, Leliana.'

'Under the circumstances, Veldrin…' Leliana began.

'Under the circumstances, I find that sudden cancellations of speaking engagements arranged two months in advance would look rather suspicious to the many agents of Fen'Harel you assure me are milling about,' the elf dryly interrupted. 'I did not see you summoning circumstances to prevent Dorian from going to his shouting match in the Upper Senate, I'm certainly attending mine…After all, you have made it clear that I am not needed for your endeavors with…'

She carelessly gestured towards Morrigan and the eluvian.

'I do not think this wise,' Leliana insisted – it was enough that she could not make sense of Veldrin while she had her under her nose. The last thing she wanted was for the elf to be wandering Maker knew where, in the company of Maker knew who.

The monster that was the Tevinter Senate might have been uncontrollable by sheer size, and though Sister Nightingale would very much have liked for her agents to be gliding through its corridors as well, her tacit tolerance accord with the Magisterium's own intelligence placed the Senate strictly off limits. The arrangement was too fresh for Leliana to attempt to immediately breach it. A few more months, would, of course, change things, yet for now…She could only have Veldrin followed to the gates, and no further.

'I do not like this, Veldrin,' Leliana said. 'You know all too well…'

'That I am in my house and in my city? Yes, of course,' the elf replied, smiling. 'That I shall have to wash my mouth out with soap after I make an impassioned plea for Arl Teagan and the Ferelden preliminary accords? Definitely.'

'Is that not already before the Archon and the Divines?' Sister Nightingale smirked. 'This debate of yours seems slightly tardy.'

'Eeeh,' Veldrin sighed, closing her book and beginning to carefully roll up her parchments. 'If we had to truly pass every piece of legislation through the Senate, we'd still be debating whether the Fourth Blight actually happened. This is not Orlais, Leliana,' she added, standing up, and sounding oddly earnest. 'The Senate does not weigh as much as the Council of Heralds…'

'Then why bother involving Senate at all?' Leliana asked, frowning.

'Because depriving people of control is one thing.' Veldrin shrugged. 'It's depriving them of the illusion of control that sparks riots – sooo…How we proceed is that Radonis decides which way to go, we have the debates, and when it comes to announcing his decision, he takes care to spice his announcement with many of the arguments brought on the Senate floor that were favourable to his cause and a few that were against it. This makes the Senate feel important and noticed, winners triumphant, losers feeling as if they actually had a chance.'

'Peace and prosperity for all,' Morrigan snarled.

'I would not go that far,' Veldrin answered, her smile turning sad. 'Still beats the ancient practice of assuring voting majority by assassinating the minority like in the fine days of Tidarion2. So let's be happy for small blessings and wish old friends good luck,' she ended, with a wink. 'I'll be back by supper, try not to kill each other in the meanwhile. Ring for refreshments as needed!'

She gracefully waved her fingers and left, book and parchments held tightly under her arm; Leliana refrained from biting her lower lip, but her frustration must have been awfully obvious, for Morrigan chuckled.

'A learning opportunity as no other,' the witch remarked. 'What pleasure you must feel at the chance of trying to regain control over what was once your creature.'

'Watch how you speak, Morrigan,' Leliana replied.

'As suits your pleasure,' the witch shrugged. 'I was merely lost in idle wondering of whether you are proud of your Inquisitor, or starting to be just a bit fearful.'

Leliana sat on the couch Veldrin had just left, and looked up to Morrigan. 'Why would I be fearful, Morrigan?' she lightly asked. 'She remains my ally, you remain my hostage.'

She had hoped the words would steal Morrigan's unexpected amusement, but they did not.

'Oh, of course she still appears to be your ally and I am still regrettably your hostage; 'tis just amusing to note how far beyond you your little puppet has grown, and how little note you take of it – no more.'

'Enlighten me,' Leliana said, smiling wide.

'Let me see my son,' Morrigan responded.

'If you tell me something worthy of note, perhaps you shall see him, in Weisshaupt, after the end,' the Nightingale said. 'Why should I be fearful of Veldrin, Morrigan?'

The witch looked to the side, and, for a mere moment, Leliana thought she would break, yet, after a long moment of consideration, she too sat down, her hands crossed in her lap.

''Tis a sad heart that you have, Sister Nightingale,' the witch spoke, with no rush. 'Unavoidable, one presumes, for one who has been as mistreated and used as you have been…Your bait is too good to be true, so not truly a bait…yet, I shall tell you one reason, and one alone of why you should fear this thorn that you have killed, blackmailed and tortured for. But one.'

Yet, not the true one, Leliana thought, feeling that, indeed, a thorn was growing in her heart. The thing Morrigan would give her now would be as menial as her promise had been transparent – she was amazed.

'Your Inquisitor knows how to make her own eluvian, Sister Nightingale,' Morrigan said, a smile crookedly lifting the left side of her lips. 'You have read her demands to Radonis, but understood nothing of them; your mind, as life has built it, brick upon brick, cannot depart from its foundations, nor rise to any other height than the one it was destined for.'

'You lie, Morrigan,' Leliana hissed; the thorn pierced and ripped and tore at her chest.

'No – 'tis just that you are blind and played. This mirror needs nothing of what she asked for. A new one, however…The poisons she asks for are to keep her mirror locked to anyone who does not have the antidote; the mercury to bring life to dull glass; the ever growing wood, the one immortal thing mankind, in its rampage of destruction, could neither alter nor eradicate, to keep the mirror feeding on itself.'

'The brandy,' Morrigan ended, now fully grinning, 'to celebrate its completion.'

'If it were that easy, witch,' Leliana hissed, darting to her feet, 'then all might…'

'Not all have your Inquisitor's channeling power, and not all have Dorian Pavus' lineage, voiceless Nightingale. Not all could manage it, but they may, or she may succeed alone, and then what you once owned will own you, and I shall dance.'

'But why would she even need a second eluvian?' Leliana asked, looking away in fear of the answer she already knew.

'Because you are watching this one, obviously,' Morrigan replied, smiling sweetly. 'And then, Leliana, you are left in the unenviable position of wondering for whose benefit she plans to build it – for her lover's, or for Radonis'. Interesting conundrum.'

Leliana looked away and sighed, oddly wishing that Morrigan had kept her knowledge to herself, for it had just rendered the fact that she could watch neither Dorian nor Veldrin just that more jarring. Both, she knew, kept chambers in the Senate, and whatever was in those chambers was hidden to her eyes. Perhaps, the Nightingale thought, her off the cuff remark about wolf pelts had been a terrible mistake, and she dearly wished she could have taken the words back, and revised her attitude. There was, of course, no certainty that Veldrin might not have thought herself under suspicion, but Leliana's manifest mistrust had placed them at open odds, on a battlefield that was far from level.

She unwillingly glanced back up at the portrait, taking in not its beauty, but its menacing undertones.

Solas, of course…But could it truly be possible that Veldrin was Radonis' creature?

It would have explained much…The Veldrin who'd once lifted the Inquisitor's sword had not been power hungry, and when she had been handed power, she had used it wisely. Yet, bearing power with grace did not imply that one would be equally graceful in losing it – the journey from being a kingmaker to being a crippled no one had been swift in Veldrin's case, and it was obvious that Tevinter was giving her the station that Southern Thaedas had been only too relieved to see her relinquish.

While Cassandra was hopelessly optimistic, and regarded Dorian and Veldrin's positioning in the magocracy as a herald of many good things to come, Leliana was far more cautious. It was true, Radonis had not been the most aggressive of Tevinter Archons, and during the crisis caused by the breach the Magisterium had at least not hindered, yet…Radonis was definitely a passionate player of the game – intercepting the eluvian and then simply giving it back had been a masterfully played card.

It also, however, denoted that Radonis did not fear Fen'Harel's agents as much as he should have…or, if Morrigan's suppositions were correct, he had just performed a grand bait and switch: with the eyes of Fen'Harel's spies firmly set on the Pavus mansion, he'd have his two pets labouring on giving him access to the Crossroads. To what end, though…

'I need eyes in that Senate,' she muttered, mostly to herself.

Morrigan heard her, and laughed, in sweet chuckles.

'So you, do, Nightingale, so you do.'

See you again next week ^^ Thank you for reading and commenting, and excuse our varying chant referencing – they are different on the DA Wikia than in the lore books.

1 The Publicanium is the inferior house of the Tevinter Senate.

2 Ruled from -692 Ancient to -640 Ancient, and notable for being the first Archon of descending from non-magic parents. His was not a peaceful reign, in either beginning, tenure or aftermath.