You have done well, my pretty...clever girl...

Leliana whimpered in her sleep, muscles taut and jaw clenched as she braced for the pain of Marjolaine's dagger piercing her side, as it did night after night, dream after dream.

Her brain flickered between images of that...time. Days, weeks, hours bleeding on end as the Chevalier her lover had delivered her to punished her mercilessly. Treason, espionage, murder and theft were carved into her skin at the hands of the finest interrogators. Even now, even being a different person, living a different life, she could acknowledge their skill. That alone revealed the depths to which her soul had been condemned.

"No, please no!" The weight of the blankets, soothing to some, became as chains around her limbs. "S'il te plait, Marjolaine, aide-moi. S'il te plait..."

Only when they had torn every story, every word, limerick and rhyme; every scrap of knowledge from her mind until soundless sobs were all that escaped her raw and trembling lips, did they dispose of her ruined body into a cell far from the sun's reach.

It was there that she first felt the grace, the mercy, the warm light of the most beloved of the Maker's children. The Prophet Andraste came to her like a lover's caress, taking the broken bard into her bosom and giving her a vision of the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

Leliana's eyelids trembled as tears welled in anticipation of the glory with which she had been gifted.

And then, for the first time, the dream changed.

Andraste's golden form morphed into a dark figure standing before her, hand outstretched. Gone were the open arms, and the choir of angels became as of banshees.

Shall we dance?

At once, inconceivably, she was filled with hope. She moved to accept the stranger's offer. As their hands touched it was as though her body was set alight. She burned, heat surging through every pore at the intensity of the connection she felt to the, the woman, before her.

And then she was on fire, screams pouring from her lips as the hand passed through her body and straight to her heart, and she felt as though she might die...though of pain or pleasure she did not know.

"Sister Leliana? Sister Leliana?" Hands grasped her shoulders gently, shaking her small form, and she could feel the dream losing its grip. "It's just a dream, sister."

The last thing she saw as she felt the Fade lose its hold on her mind was a pair of eyes gazing into hers as though from a thousand leagues away. Green eyes.

"Awaken, Leliana!"

Leliana sat up with a gasp, forehead nearly colliding with that of the older woman leaning over her. "My apologies, Revered Mother." Calming her breathing, the young sister scooted away from the woman and collected herself. "It was but a dream. Thank you for waking me, I hate to think I might have disturbed the others from their sleep." She could feel her Orlesian accent leaking into her practiced Fereldan drawl more like grunting and dropped her eyes, busying herself with removing the quilt twisted around her legs. The Revered Mother moved to the end of the bed, giving her space to recover from her nightmare.

"More than that, I think, but I am glad you are now well, my child." The leader of Lothering's Chantry was hidden in the dark of the small, sparse chamber, but Leliana could sense the gentle smile on her face in her words. "I was on my way to the chapel to pray. I have been feeling much disquiet myself, these past few nights." As she shifted, the comforting scent of incense and aged vellum wafted from her robes. "A Blight upon us, and the young King riding to war...Yes. Prayer is what is needed, at times like these."

"I am glad I did not awaken you, then." Leliana replied, desire to sleep fading rapidly as the dream receded, leaving only a warmth in her chest she had not felt for some time. "May I join you? The prayers of two are more powerful than those of one alone, no?" She rose and helped her elder to her feet, then quickly dressed in the simple habit worn by brothers and sisters of the Chantry.

"Of course. Come. Let us refresh our weary spirits with the succor of the Chant of the Light."