Chapter 69

Only in the solitude of her tent did Leliana allow herself to grieve.

"Blessed are the Peacekeepers, the Champions of the Just."

She wouldn't allow the others to see her this way.

"Blessed are the Righteous, the Lights in the Shadow."

She wouldn't let them see her weak.

"In Their blood, the Maker's will is written."

They were at war, and blood would be spilt. Haven was a military camp now, for all intents and purposes. The Inquisition would help the Chantry endure, of that she was certain, but how steep would be the price?

"Is that what you want from us?" she whispered quietly upon finishing the Chant. She did not rise from her knee. "Blood? To die so that your will is done? Is death your only blessing?"

It would seem that way to anyone. The Conclave had been called by the Divine to broker a peace between the mages and the templars. Hostilities were supposed to end. And yet...

With a deep sigh, Leliana raised her head and rose to her feet. The tent, her base of operations, wasn't large, but it was sufficient. She couldn't bear to be indoors now. Being outside near the chattering of people, the hammering of the forge and the drilling of the soldiers helped her deal with it all. She half hoped she could be out in the field, like she had been all her life, but her work was important. Someone had to coordinate all the spies and informants. She couldn't do that if she was out there herself.

Leading from the front was well and good, but only from the back could you see whether there were stragglers.

So she turned around and found Alistair leaning against one of the tent poles, dressed in his Warden blues. He smiled slightly and waved.

"Didn't want to interrupt," he said. "But I wanted to stop by before I went on my way."

Oh, that's right. He's leaving.

A lot had been happening at Haven. Between her work and the stress of literally everything, she hadn't been able to make time for him at all. And now he was off to the Deep Roads to talk to some darkspawn who could turn him into a ghoul on a whim. Yet another thing she was utterly helpless to do anything about.

"It feels strange, doesn't it?" Alistair asked, looking out at the village. "To think we discovered this place eleven years ago? People were always trying to kill us then. Can't say much has changed."

"Oh?" Leliana came and stood beside him, bristling. "Do you not see the sky? The Temple ruins? The bones lying in the dust?"

"Leliana, I-"

"I apologise," she said quickly as she massaged her temples. "That was uncalled for. It's just that... so many innocent lives were lost. They came, hopeful for peace. Their faith was repaid by being murdered where the Holiest of Holies once stood." She chuckled darkly. "If the Maker wills it, what is this if not a cruel joke or game?"

"I don't know what to say, honestly. Bad things happen every day. We both know this."

"So, what? We should get used to this?" She scoffed. "Get used to being a pawn, being discarded when the Maker is done with you? The Chantry teaches us that the Maker abandoned us, that He demands repentance for our sins. Sometimes, I wonder if it isn't He who owes us an apology."

Alistair said nothing.

"He demands it all: our lives, our deaths," Leliana went on, fuming quietly. "Justinia gave Him everything she had and He let her die."

It was then that Alistair put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Leliana didn't fight it. She was too tired to stop herself from allowing this moment of weakness.

"I'm sorry," he said and Leliana sighed. "I just have this habit of making bad jokes in tense situations. It's a defence mechanism."

"I know." She placed her temple against his cheek and closed her eyes. "I'm not angry at you."

"Yeah. Her death hit you hard."

"Not just me," she confessed. It was the truth, after all. Why shouldn't she admit it to him? "All of us. She was the Divine. She led the faithful. She was... their heart."

"But you most of all," he said quietly and Leliana sighed again. He knew her too well for his own good.

"Yes. She... saved me. Gave me purpose. I hope to do right by her, to keep seeing the world as she did, to preserve the Faith." She opened her eyes and let her gaze linger on the ruins of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. "But if the Maker doesn't intervene to save the best of his servants, then what good is He?"

She glanced at a potted white rose in the corner of the tent. "I used to think I was chosen by Him. I thought I was fulfilling His purpose for me. Working for the Divine. Helping people." She broke away from Alistair and hugged herself as she took a few steps forward. "But now she's dead. It was all for nothing, you see. Serving the Maker meant nothing."

"Do you remember that party in Kirkwall? The Duke who was dealing with the qunari?"

Leliana glanced back at him and nodded. Alistair was prone to changing the subject when things got awkward, but this time she was irritated. She'd just been baring her soul to him, and he was going to respond by telling a joke?

"I met a man there. Very strange fellow, really. We talked about cheese a lot, but one thing he said stuck with me. He said, 'When faced with the utter meaningless of life, what choice have we but embracing the absurd?'" He hummed. "I've thought about it a lot, you know. I still don't understand fully what he meant to say, but I think he was telling me that there is always something to hang on to. No matter how much we believe that things have lost meaning."

Leliana said nothing.

"I've been there. Lots of times over the years. I actually don't know anyone who hasn't. If nothing has meaning, why do anything, you know? Why bother at all? Why not just sink into despair and end it all?" A pause. "But you know what? Every time we think that, we're wrong. Perhaps what we did had no meaning to us, but we all have a sphere of influence, no matter how small. What we do affects people. It has meaning to them. Leliana, you've helped people and nobody can take that away from you. Not even the Maker."

She didn't turn around but sighed tremulously when Alistair wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"We feel pain because we care," he said, his voice warm beside her ear. "Pain is what we can't explain away as meaningless. It makes the argument tumble down like a house of cards. We feel pain because we lost what was meaningful to us." He kissed her cheek. "I love you, Leliana. I can't describe in words just what you mean to me. Derive meaning from that, if from nothing else."

Cracking a small smile, Leliana turned to kiss his cheek but settled for his lips instead. A stolen moment, tender and tempered in gratitude.

I'll take what I can.

"I love you too, Alistair," she told him when he released her, placing her palm on his cheek. "Thank you. For that."

"Don't worry about it. But I should be getting along now. I have to see an ancient magister about an asshole." He smiled. "See you soon, Leli."

And as he walked off towards the stable, Leliana found herself praying for him despite herself.