Herah dug in her heels, spurring her massive Ferelden charger to keep up with the rider ahead of her. "Damn it, I told you not to do that ," she yelled, trying to get the other woman's attention. "And you went ahead and killed her anyway."

Leliana didn't stop her brown and white spotted mare, instead maintaining a small lead over Herah while she replied. "Sister Natalie betrayed us. Her death was a message, both to those who sent her and to anyone else who might be inclined to attack us in the future. I don't see why this bothers you. You didn't object when I dealt similarly with other traitors."

"That was… different." It was earlier was what she really meant. Before they'd made her the Inquisitor. Before she'd had the weight of the world resting on her shoulders. Before she'd been obliged to sit in judgment over the lives of others. Back in Leliana's tent in Haven, she'd just been a warrior angry at someone who'd betrayed their comrades. Now, she had a better idea of what that kind of choice cost the person who made it.

She wasn't sure how to explain that though, and so instead she said, "Natalie used to be your friend. And if that doesn't mean anything to you, then maybe this does: you just left a bloody corpse on the floor of a chantry. Does that seem right to you?"

Leliana stopped her horse at that, twisting her head around to shoot a viscous glare at Herah. "I thought you didn't believe in the Maker," she spat.

"And I thought you did," she snapped back. "Look at what you're doing, Leliana. You want me to back you to be the next Divine. Is this really the right way to make your case to me or to the Grand Clerics?"

"You're being naïve, Inquisitor. You don't think the Divine has to have people killed? Justinia was a remarkable woman, but there was a reason that she employed me. She knew that the Chantry needed to change and that change will not be gentle." She paused before her last words, and when she spoke them, they were quieter but no less firm. "Neither can I."

Herah took a breath of her own, trying to let go of the anger she felt. She needed to get through to her comrade more than she needed to yell at her. "I'm not a child. I know we need to do tough things sometimes," she told her, "But that doesn't mean you have to be nothing other than a killer. When you told me about the time you spent with the Hero of Ferelden, it felt like you were different back then. Happier."

Her spymaster turned away from her once more, her face disappearing behind her hood. "Once, perhaps, I was" she admitted, but the regret in her voice vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "But that woman is long gone. Now, I am simply what I need to be."

She hadn't been back at Skyhold more than an hour when Cassandra found her. The spymaster was in her aerie, reviewing the correspondences that had accumulated in her absence, when the sound of her friend's heavy boot steps on the staircase warned her that she wasn't alone.

"Leliana," came the inevitable words, "I heard about what happened at the chantry in Valence. Are you all right?"

She looked up from her papers. "Word travels quickly, I see."

"You know that Varric cannot resist a good story," Cassandra explained before adding, "And in this case, I believe that he's concerned about you."

"He does not need to be and neither do you. I'm perfectly all right."

"I think that's what worries him. He told me that you killed someone who used to be a friend, and the Inquisitor was the only one who seemed to be upset about that."

"Herah has a good heart," Leliana told her, "And she's a fitting champion for the Inquisition. But she does not always have a firm grasp on what needs to be done."

Cassandra shifted uncomfortably in her armor. The former Seeker was never eager to talk about feelings even when she felt the need to do so. "And you do?", she asked. "I know what it is to discover that someone isn't who you thought they were. I know that it can take you to dark places. What happened with Lord Seeker Lucius made me question much…"

Leliana cut her off. "I appreciate your words, but this particular lesson is one I learned a long time ago."

Cassandra didn't reply at first. Leliana had told her of Marjolaine's betrayal, but not of its more sordid details. Nissa was the only one she had ever trusted with those, the only one who knew the size of scar it had left on her soul. The older bard had been her whole world: her mentor, her lover, and her idol. Leliana would have done anything for her, at least until Marjolaine betrayed her devotion.

The Orlesian soldiers who had taken her prisoner afterwards had brutalized her body, leaving marks that she still bore, but it was the cut to her heart that had been the deepest. After realizing what Marjolaine really was, she had been empty, a shell that scarcely felt the pain her captors had inflicted on. She had believed that she would die, and she hadn't been able to make herself care.

Fate had decided otherwise. Justinia had arranged her rescue from that nightmarish prison, and Nissa had brought her heart back to life, but in spite of their kindness, they had left her too. The Divine had sacrificed herself to save Herah and of her beloved warden, there was still no word. Leliana was beginning to doubt that there ever would be one. The world was not kind to people like them.

"I'm sorry," Cassandra told her. "I should have recalled your history. I simply hoped that I might provide some perspective. Varric isn't the only one who's worried about you."

"Is that concern coming from my friend," she asked coldly, "Or from another candidate to be the next Divine?"

The former Right Hand let out an exasperated sigh. "Do not sound so suspicious when you say that. I didn't ask for the Grand Clerics to consider me."

"But they have." She stood from her writing table, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is it what you want? Because if not, you could publically withdraw your name from consideration."

Cassandra's expression hardened. "I did not come here to fight with you about this, Leliana, but neither do I intended to step aside. If it is the Maker's will that I be the next Divine, than so be it."

"The Maker wills nothing that the Conclave does," Leliana snapped. "Its decision are those of the Grand Clerics and their motivations are often far from holy."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at her words. Even though she knew about the corruption in the chantry, she disliked taking that knowledge to its depressing conclusion. "If that is what you believe," she told Leliana, "Then I suppose we shall see what they will do instead." With that, she turned to leave and the bard sat back down at her table, picking up the next letter from the stack and reading it.

It came from one of her agents in Denerim, reporting on the discrete visits that a certain Mother Sylvana had been making to a handsome elf who worked at the Pearl. The Mother was well-connected among precisely those Chantry circles that looked down their nose at elves and now, she belonged to the Inquisition, even if she didn't realize it yet. The Grand Clerics would do what they were made to do, and if Cassandra couldn't see that, then that was all the more reason why Leliana should be the one who sat the Sunburst Throne.

So, I wrote a Mass Effect collaboration with Rae D. Magdon. It's called "A Convincing Performance," and you can find a link to it among my Favorite stories. Check it out if you're so inclined and thanks for reading.