Chapter 49

"I know why you brought me," Kallian Tabris said as she replaced the damp cloth on her sleeping father's forehead. "Coming with me to the Alienage so that the elves won't be hostile."

Leliana smiled from her chair at the foot of the bed. "You catch on fast."

"It's a smart move. Low, but smart."

Evening had fallen over Denerim, bringing with it a sense of both shame and relief to the Alienage. Shame, because they had been blinded by their faith in the Tevinter slavers whom they saw as saviours. Relief, because it was finally over.

Instead of celebrating, the elves had retreated to their homes, some mourning those lost to the slave trade, some cursing themselves for ever having fallen for the ruse. The Tabris household was one of the lucky ones, having recovered Cyrion. The community had lost too much, its leader among those. All because of human greed.

If the ends truly did justify the means, if lives became statistics and decisions made based on pragmatic probability, then what was the point of it all? She had lived that life. She had played the Game and survived. And it had exacted a heavy toll.

She understood why Loghain would sell off the elves to slave traders. Nobody really cared for them, and they were treated as second-class citizens at best. Trading them for gold was like selling old furniture in a pinch. Just a statistic in some profit and loss column in someone's ledger.

Leliana inhaled deeply. Kalian Tabris had retreated into silence as she sat on the edge of the bed, looking down at her sleeping father's face. After a year spent in imprisonment, she'd come out to her world not only altered, but devastated. She'd decided to stay in the Tabris house until Alistair and Zevran were done making a list of all those who were still alive in the Alienage.

"So, you travel with the Wardens?" Kallian asked suddenly. Leliana nodded.

"Yes. For almost a year now."

"They seem good. For shems." Though she used the derogatory elven term for human, there was no malice in her voice. "Tell them I'm grateful for what they did for me... and for my people."

Leliana smiled. Aedan and Sten had taken charge of the slavers and led them straight to Arl Eamon, probably to be produced as witnesses at the Landsmeet. Wynne and Solona had spent the afternoon actually healing the elves – at least those who still trusted human enough to want to be helped by them.

"I shall."

"Have you... have you ever heard of a Grey Warden named Duncan?"

"Yes," Leliana answered, surprised and curious. "Duncan was the one who recruited both Aedan and Alistair. He died at Ostagar. Why do you ask? Did you know him?"

She shook her head. "Duncan tried to recruit my mother into the Wardens. She refused. She was a warrior of some repute. Stood up for the right thing. Got herself locked up in the Arl's dungeon when I was younger." Kallian chuckled darkly. "Like mother like daughter, I suppose."

She was hardly even eighteen, but circumstances had aged her much more than that. There was a depth to her, in the way she carried herself, that told others that she was at war. Perhaps with the world, perhaps with herself. It discouraged people from treating her like a child.

So Leliana didn't.

"Me, too," she found herself saying. "I was a prisoner in that dungeon at one time as well." She felt the younger woman's eyes shift to her. "It was a few years ago. Quite recent, in fact. Someone who I thought was my friend betrayed me and a few others."

"My mother was rescued by a woman who was a fellow prisoner. She told me of her often. Inspired me to be like the human lady who had saved her."

Leliana said nothing for a while. Neither did Kallian, but she broke the silence eventually.

"From what Shianni said, it was the death of Vaughan that triggered Howe to lead the purge of the Alienage. After the purge came the fake pestilence. None of this would've happened if I didn't kill him." She chuckled darkly. "But my mum raised me to be a fighter. I wonder what she would say if she were with us today."

Leliana said nothing.

"You know, I can't trust humans anymore. I can't trust anybody anymore. Vaughan didn't take my body, he somehow took my sense of security completely." She spoke quietly as she dipped the rag in a bowl of water, wrung the water out of it and placed it carefully on her father's forehead. She didn't want to wake him. "Did you ever feel like that?"

"Yes. There was one man. Raleigh. Harwen Raleigh. Some nights, he would come for some fun. Some nights, he would bring a belt, a whip and a rod and ask me to choose."

"I'd have to go with the belt on that one."

"I always chose the rod."

"Why?"

Leliana smiled tightly. "Because fuck him, that's why."

Kallian stared at her for a long while before nodding. It was a brief moment of understanding, of solidarity, and Leliana was glad for it. But there was still something else she had to do.

"Your mother's name was Adaia," she said and heard Kallian gasp. "I remember her. She was a good, strong woman." Leliana left her chair, silently walked over to the girl and knelt before her. "And if she were here, she would tell you that none of what happened was your fault."

"Yeah. I know."

"Look at me, Kallian," Leliana said earnestly and when the girl did, she repeated, "It's not your fault."

Kallian shrugged. "I know."

"It's not your fault."

The girl smirked confusedly. "I... I know."

Leliana took her hands and held them tight. "It's not your fault."

Her smile fell at that. "Stop it."

"It's not your fault," Leliana said again, feeling the tremors in the elven girl's hands. "It's not your fault."

"Don't fuck with me," whispered Kallian under her breath, looking down at her lap. "Don't-"

"It's not your fault."

A single shiny tear fell on Kallian's lap and Leliana let her hands go. The girl rubbed her face, gently rocking to and fro. Leliana sat herself beside her, wrapped her arms around Kallian's waist and neck, and pulled her into her chest.

"It's not your fault," she whispered into her ear.

Then, and only then, did her shoulders quake. Kallian clung to her desperately, her silent tears finally free. Even in pain she was hesitant to fully let go, lest she disturb others. Leliana knew the behaviour well, and kept up her chant as she stroked the girl's hair.

If there was one thing her life as a bard had taught her, it was that words had power. Simple words, strange sounds made with the mouth and taken for granted, could move mountains. They could make or break people, push them into isolated despair or pull them into a blissful embrace.

"I'm sorry," muttered the girl, unable to stop her rocking. "Oh, Maker, I'm so sorry-"

"Shh. It's okay. It's not your fault."

The cycle of hatred and abuse would probably never truly end, but at least her past had equipped her with the tools with which to comfort and help those who truly needed it. She couldn't be there for everybody, but even one soul saved was worth something.

And that, if nothing, gave Leliana the courage to keep hoping.