After re-playing Leliana's Song and loving it, I ended up writing this. This is truer to the original shorts format, so bear with it. More Chant-quoting.
Blessed
Leliana
(Here lies the abyss, the well of all souls.
From these emerald waters doth life begin anew.
Come to me, child, and I shall embrace you.
In my arms lies Eternity.)
The woman unfolded herself from the shadows, dress the colour of midnight simply cut in a way only found in Orlais; she gave a smile, looking her up and down. "So, you are here."
It was difficult not to feel awkward; palms sweating, she nodded, trying to smile.
The woman came closer, turned her chin up with a hand to see her face better. "My, you are pretty, aren't you?"
Warm breath blew on her face, and she tried not to tremble.
"Come." The woman turned. "It is time to... play a game."
(With passion'd breath does the darkness creep.
It is the whisper in the night, the lie upon your sleep.)
She never noticed the little things that would disappear from her pack, at the time: remnants of her old life, keys she would need if she ever wanted to leave. If she did wonder, it was all forgotten with the whisper in her ear.
"What shall we do tonight, pretty thing?"
(What one man gains, another has lost.
Those who steal from their brothers and sisters
Do harm to their livelihood and to their peace of mind.
Our Maker sees this with a heavy heart.)
She noticed the shabbiness of the house, that those who owned it probably barely had enough to feed their family. Her heart sank for a moment, before Marjolaine hissed to her, asking her what she was waiting for, and she slipped the bread and the ring in her pocket. They would make a pretty penny, she thought, ignoring the ache of guilt in her chest.
(Many are those who wander in sin,
Despairing that they are lost forever...)
The first time she killed a man, she had to drop the dagger and stem the nausea. Marjolaine scolded her, reminding her how many people he had probably lied to and killed himself, but when she backed away, shaking her head, she received a slap to the face. "Stupid girl! This is what we do! Get up!"
She was pushed out of the house, thanking the Maker Marjolaine was angry. When she was happy, people died.
(As the moth sees light and goes toward flame,
She should see fire and go towards Light.)
The pain was taking over her thoughts.
She should have known Marjolaine would betray her in the end - it was too much to hope that she was the only one not being played with. Worse, it was naive. It made sense, her betrayal with Raleigh - perfect political sense. Being left to rot as a plaything in a cell, however? That was just la putain's idea of fun.
She didn't see her feet slip from under her, had a second of horror before all went black.
(Blessed are they who stand before
The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.
Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.)
She looked her lover, nearly killer, in the eye, and it was the other woman who looked away first. There was no justification for... for this. She knew Marjolaine expected a dagger through the chest; it was what she would have done. Instead, she walked away, leaving behind a broken and vengeful creature she had once thought she'd known. Once thought she'd loved.
She tries to drown out these thoughts with the Chant, lie the reassuring words over Marjolaine's spiteful ones.
She and that... woman are not the same.
Yet those around her still think her a Chantry sister. She has lied to them all, and she cannot continue to.
The Chant she is murmuring stops abruptly, as, for the first time in a long while, it cannot help her.