"I would have thought you'd go with Luce to Amaranthine," Alistair told Leliana. "Will you visit her there?"
Leliana ignored the hint of smugness in Alistair's voice: it was he, not her, who kissed Lucilla goodbye before the palace gates and the royal guard that accompanied him and the Queen.
"No," Leliana answered. "The Chantry sent for me."
They saw the entourage turn at a corner, effectively hiding Lucilla from their view. Leliana started to move away.
"The Grand Cleric couldn't spare you a month or so?" Alistair asked, curiosity and disbelief in his voice. "Couldn't you have refused? I'd be more comfortable if you went and guarded Luce, you know."
What the King said was true. Leliana always could have refused the Grand Cleric and opted to travel with Lucilla to that far-off arling. But she did not feel obliged to discuss this with Alistair. Besides, Leliana did not know how well Teyrn Fergus Cousland confided in his brother-in-law; the man had made his displeasure at her presence near the crown and his sister known.
"I can't refuse the Chantry," she lied, wondering if Alistair knew better. Leliana had witnessed how shrewd the man could be, how he hid his mind behind his jokes whenever he shrugged and looked stupid.
"There's that," Alistair said, and he turned to her. "Look, Leliana. I know where I stand. I know what she likes, who she loves. I just want her to be happy and safe, because that's what she deserves."
"She's neither happy nor safe in Amaranthine, if you ask me," Leliana retorted, stung. "But she has to cover up for your mistakes, doesn't she? Because she loves this flaming country."
Alistair opted to be the better man in this argument. Lucilla going to Amaranthine as Warden-Commander in order to rebuild the Grey Wardens was not his mistake or shortcoming. It was something either he or Lucilla had to do, otherwise the Fereldan Wardens would be at the mercy of foreigners yet again. Also, if there were any shortcomings from the Crown, it was from Lucilla's other half—though she was an effective ruler, she also ran the risk of having her affair with an Orlesian bard discovered, to the detriment of the undivided crown.
"She'll only be gone for three months—" Alistair began. He immediately regretted talking to Leliana, but he had to make this right.
"Yes, I know," Leliana grumbled, not wanting to continue the discussion.
"She loves you, Leliana," Alistair said sincerely. "You're terribly lucky for that."
"You gave her your crown," Leliana hissed, her voice already unstable. "She does not forget that."
Alistair felt irked, even humiliated, by Leliana's ungratefulness. The temptation was increasing. It was within his power and perhaps duty to banish Leliana forever, to rid the Crown of its other half's greatest danger. Fergus had warned Alistair about the dark rumors in the Bannorn, about how an Orlesian bard was so close to the Crown that the threat of Orlais was imminent once more. But Alistair would not hear of it. He would not deprive his wife her greatest joy. He would have Eamon and Teagan address the issue, until Lucilla returned and dealt with the matter herself.
In his heart, Alistair knew that there was no assurance that Lucilla would love him if Leliana was gone—on the contrary, it might even drive Lucilla away from him.
He watched Leliana turn her back on him.
The meeting took place at the Denerim Cathedral, which was one of the first buildings restored in Denerim. Leliana remembered how Lucilla had scowled when she ordered it, but decided that the people needed what comfort and inspiration they could get from only the Chantry.
"We are pleased at the rebuilding," Revered Mother Perpetua said, her old eyes shrewd. Revered Mother Perpetua had stayed in the city with its citizens during the final battle with the Archdemon, offering her aid and that of the Templars under her care to restore order. She, together with the allies of the Crown, had worked tirelessly to ensure order in Denerim. Grand Cleric Elemena, however, was a different story: she remained with the few frightened and cowardly nobles in their lofty refuge in the outskirts of the capital.
Leliana had marveled at how the Crown had its allies in the Chantry. Then again, she knew she should not: Alistair had ties as a former Templar, and Lucilla had done a great service to the Chantry during the past year.
"But the Crown must not involve itself with the mages," the Grand Cleric Elemena said. "Kinloch Hold should have been annulled, its mages put to the sword."
"With all due respect, Your Grace," Leliana interposed, even as Mother Perpetua opposed the Grand Cleric. "The Knight-Commander had discretion—"
"No doubt under the coercion of Warden Lucilla," Elemena spat. "Ser Gregoir had sent for the Rite of Annulment, but promptly withdrew it when that woman arrived."
"Knight-Commander Gregoir acted of his own free will, and Queen Lucilla and King Alistair had nothing to do with it," Leliana reiterated, her voice icy and commanding. "Your Grace would remember who wears the Crown in this country."
"So tell Her Majesty that she should not interfere with matters of the spirit," Elemena cackled. The adjective was not lost in Leliana; clearly, the Grand Cleric feared and hated the Queen more than the King. "And remind His Majesty that he once took an oath to serve Andraste. That crown on his head does not remove that oath."
"All men are the work of the Maker's hands, from the lowest servants to the highest kings," Leliana recited. "I can assure Your Grace that the Crown does not forget this. Nor are they ignorant that their work is for the Maker's children. And the deployment of the mages to settlements where there are outbreaks of disease—didn't Andraste say that magic is meant to serve man?"
The Grand Cleric's eyes flashed dangerously. The Crown, no matter who wore it, always had to be balanced. The former Teyrn Loghain had helped a maleficar escape for his own ends. Who knew what this new Queen Lucilla and her husband could do?
"I do not need an ex-initiate to recite the Chant for me," she warned Leliana. "And would you please enlighten me, Sister, why the Chantry was never formed in Orzammar?"
"King Bhelen opposed it," Leliana lied smoothly, sure that this was what Lucilla would do. In truth, Lucilla never even brought it up to the dwarven King, nor to the Assembly. She simply ignored it. It was probably not her wisest decision—or not. Lucilla never told her about her plans.
"She crowned the King of Orzammar—" Elemena said, voice raised.
"The Paragon Branka crowned the King of Orzammar," Leliana lied again. "Your Grace, I am sure that the Crown feels flattered because of your high esteem. But even they do not command the Dwarves, who are a proud and distinct people."
Mother Perpetua looked at the two women, and wondered why a mere Chantry initiate would defend the King and Queen so ardently. She decided to bury such thoughts, and instead focused on finding a compromise: the Denerim Chantry could use the assistance of the Crown, not its enmity. She remembered that it was the present King and Queen who had upheld order in their country and stayed with the people—things that the Chantry should also have done.
The three women knew that trade with Orzammar did not necessarily equate that the Crown was also having a share in lyrium—it might mean the trade of other goods, such as cloth and furs in exchange for ores, which could help Ferelden. And the Chantry did have considerable interest in the cloth merchants' guilds. What truly bothered the Grand Cleric was the idea that the Crown could do things without consulting the Chantry first.
"Hush," Perpetua said. She took a look at the red-haired Orlesian woman, and another at the Grand Cleric. "We extend our appreciation to the Crown. We also support the rebuilding of Ferelden, and if the mages' support is needed, the Chantry will gladly lend their aid."
Leliana bowed to the two women as the meeting adjourned. She politely accepted a quaint dinner with the Revered Mother, even as she noted that the Grand Cleric did not join them. Leliana expected a continuation of the topic earlier, but Perpetua preferred to discuss other things.
"Why did you leave the Chantry, Sister?" the Revered Mother asked graciously. "A unique mind like yours could be of great use in the service of the Maker and His Bride."
"Ah, my lady, but I continue serving the Maker and His Bride." She was a master of answering without really answering. She had also noted the curious use of "unique" in Perpetua's question.
Leliana could feel Perpetua's gaze. What did this old priestess guess, or hear, about her? Did she report to anybody other than the Grand Cleric? A noble, perhaps, one of Lucilla's enemies?
"You do not need to fear me," Perpetua said. "I am not your enemy. Or of your mistress. As long as you do the Maker's work for the Maker's children, I will be glad."
Leliana wondered at the term the Revered Mother used, but decided to think about it later: the Grand Cleric was the foremost problem. The woman was second only to the Divine, and though the position was not as regarded in Ferelden as in Orlais, she still wielded considerable influence. Nevertheless, the Grand Cleric was a fallible human… and she could be toppled with the support of the Revered Mothers. Leliana made a mental list of all the places she had visited with Lucilla when the Blight was rampant. Surely, the Revered Mothers of those places could be considered allies of the crown… yes. Leliana would seek them out, make them see Lucilla's plans were for the betterment of the people. After all, wasn't the Chantry founded on such principles?
Leliana resolved to do this for Lucilla. She muttered a quick prayer to Andraste to keep her beloved safe.
Days later, Leliana returned to the palace to look for the King and tell him about the Chantry. Leliana knew that this was what Lucilla would have wanted, would have done under the circumstances.
Leliana found Alistair in the armory, taking out his old armor and weapons. Despite his lofty status as King, and the sheer number of servants and squires serving the Crown, Alistair still preferred to put on his armor by himself. Leliana admitted that this humility was rather remarkable and admirable.
"Your Majesty, what's going on?" Leliana asked, genuinely curious.
"I'm going to Amaranthine," Alistair said. "There are… unsavory reports on the road."
Leliana steeled her face. She did not know how to react; Lucilla was a strong woman, one who could take care of herself well, but even the strongest warrior could fall prey to cruel fates. Was the King preparing to lay siege to Vigil's Keep? Was Lucilla in danger?
And why did Lucilla tell Alistair, but not her?
"Luce is probably all right, don't worry your pretty head," Alistair said kindly. "But those blockhead nobles better be reminded of who wears the crown in this country, and who rules that arling. Do you want to come along?"
"No, it's alright," Leliana said, remembering Fergus Cousland's knowing glare. "Your Queen needs you, my King. And I need to apologize for my words earlier."
"Apology accepted," Alistair said immediately, smiling. "And in private, you don't need to be so formal with me. You sure really don't want to see Luce?"
"I really can't, Alistair," Leliana reiterated, but grateful for this agreeable turn of fate.
Leliana decided to change the topic. "Actually, the Grand Cleric wants me to tell you that she's not pleased with how the Crown interferes in almost everything, including the mages and the lyrium trade. I have the papers here."
"That horrible woman!" Alistair sighed, and then jested some more. "But really, she needs to understand that mages are of enormous help in our efforts. We're hardly in a place to turn down the help of willing allies."
"I'll remain here in the capital then, and tell her," Leliana said tersely. Just because they were on good terms now did not make them friends. "Lucilla will want me to fix this, for her. And if I can, I will."
Alistair smiled, appreciative at Leliana. He patted her on the arm, thankful that Lucilla's dalliance was not purely for nothing.