Note: Okay so I decided to continue this, the ideas wouldn't leave me alone. It's more of Leliana's point of view during the 'War of the Old Ones' timeline, starting from the end of the Battle of Denerim onwards (until the end of Catastrophe). It will flit between past and present, and will just be snapshots of moments, rather than a full chronological story.
Conquest is still on my radar, but I've been poorly the last two weeks which has put quite a dent in my writing, so I am slowly trying to get back to it. Hopefully this will help!
It is a strange thing, to be in a tavern as I am now. For so many years such a place was my favourite playground, a haunt for gossip unearthed through ale-loosened tongues or other purchased pleasantries. How comfortably I would breeze from table to table, a flicker of my eyelids, a swish of my hips, a bite of my lip all I needed to broker my bargains. Of course, some things needed…further persuasion, but I was beyond shame, taught too well, and nothing was out of my reach. It was all part of the Game, and I revelled in my mastery of it. Until that day the mirror of pain was held against me, revealing a truth it has taken quite some time to accept.
Even so, much as it reminds me of the life I have tried to forget, I cannot resist its lure. The smell of hops and spilled drinks, of stale sweat and crowded bodies, the strumming of a lyre, the hum of a flute, the swirl of heated argument; it is familiar, and brings comfort.
At least, it used to, but something has been troubling me, and even the bustling throngs cannot quiet the shadows. Whispered panic has swept through the people, and it has seeped into me, as well. Lothering has been my solace for almost two years, yet I have started to wonder how much longer it will remain so. It was not long ago the King of Ferelden and the fabled Grey Wardens passed through, marching towards the threat spreading unchecked in the south. I did not think much of it, but as the days have passed, despair and darkness have encroached further, and I cannot deny the chill it leaves in its wake.
Last night, it finally culminated in a dream. A vast and terrible blackness, deeper than should ever be, spreading at an impossible rate. Untamed and uncontrolled, it choked all life and light, devouring everything, myself included. I awoke in a cold sweat, pulse thundering like the savage storm that first brought me here. Like the other nightmares that used to haunt, it stole my breath and my resolve, and so I had hoped an early walk would ease my thoughts.
That was when I saw them; three priests gathered in the garden, pointing and shaking their heads at what could only be a miracle. The shrub that had been dead since before I arrived now boasted a single, radiant rose, and it baffled them. It baffled me, too. Such a thing should not have been—even the season was not right—but there it was, brilliant red petals fluttering in the breeze, freshly bloomed. Defiant against all odds.
The sight was a balm to my shaken heart. It rekindled the fire within me, reminding that I too, had overcome the impossible to be free. To be here, in this moment, under the Maker's gentle guidance. To have blossomed anew, and shed away that which I had been. But it seemed this was not enough. And this dream, this flower, held the truth I did not know I sought. I had survived the shadows of my past, and it was up to me to continue the fight, to atone for what I had done. I was not the only one touched by darkness, but unlike so many, I understood how to challenge it.
I needed to help stop the Blight…
The tavern door creaks, and I look up from the hearthside. A group of unfamiliar faces have entered, dressed in long cloaks. Yet a glance tells me they are not mere refugees. One carries a staff of yew, her dark hair tied high, her lips sour. An apostate. The man beside her lowers his hood, revealing a boyish face recently tempered by lines of grief. The last—their leader, I presume—keeps her hood raised. A dagger and longsword are strung across her back, and she walks with purpose, a fearless stride I have not seen in quite some time. I peer closer, intrigued. The firelight dances off her face, and my breath catches. I have never seen such hazel eyes.
Alas, I am not the only one who notes their presence. At once two soldiers rise, their eyes wild.
"You there, stop." The order is sharp, but cannot mask the tiniest of tremors. "Well, isn't this a blessing. Imagine that you Wardens would be fool enough to walk in here!"
His address causes the young man to pause, and he glances anxiously to his comrade.
"Damn it, Loghain's men," he mutters. "This can't be good."
The apostate beside him rolls her eyes, and mumbles something I cannot catch. The woman, however, says nothing. A hardness takes over her, like fresh-wrought steel. The vein on the soldier's temple bulges, and his fingers clench, itching to draw his blade. The vision of the rose returns, and I stand. I cannot simply watch.
"Now, now, gentleman, there is no need for trouble." My voice is calm, and I step between them and the newcomers. "I am sure they are but more weary souls seeking shelter from the troubles facing us all."
The soldier spits.
"Stay out of this, sister," he growls. "You will not harbour these traitors, not after they abandoned the King and left him to his death!"
"That wasn't us!" the young man barks, unable to hold restraint. "Loghain turned his back on King Cailan, and you…"
"I was there!" the soldier shouts back. "I saw with my own eyes the trap the Wardens laid!" He can contain himself no longer, and his sword tastes the light. "You don't deserve to…"
The next moment happens so quickly, I am unsure if I am dreaming. In her silence, the woman has made her move. The soldier gasps, his sword smacked clean from his hand, and then he screams, his feet swept from under him. A sickening crunch I have heard often enough echoes, and he lands face-first onto the floor, his right arm twisted, broken. Not dead, but no doubt soon wishing he would be.
The other soldier pales. The woman turns to him, her hood flopping free. She has long, dark brown hair, tied up in a pony-tail, and a smooth, set jaw. The face of a noble woman, but she is no spoiled lady of leisure. Still she does not breathe a word, her brows narrowing.
"S-Stay back!" A clumsy hand raises a shaking sword. "Loghain…he told us, if any Warden survived…"
"Then what?" The young man steps forward, his own blade poised. The soldier drops his weapon, cowering.
"A-Alright, I surrender, don't hurt me!" he whimpers.
"How pathetic," the apostate murmurs.
The young man scoffs.
"What do we think, Elissa?" he asks. "He's only going to run to Loghain and tell him we're alive. We should deal with him while we can."
The woman called Elissa nods slightly, and the young man's eyes gleam. His sword-arm tenses, and the soldier throws his arms around his head.
"Wait, I think that is quite enough." I take my stand, bringing my concealed dagger to my palm. "Surely there is no need for further bloodshed?"
"They started it!" the young man retorts.
"But he is asking for mercy," I answer. "I am sure he has learnt his lesson. Is that not enough to spare his life?"
"Y-Yes, let me go!" the soldier pleads. His comrade remains on the floor, motionless but for his breathing. The point has been made clear enough.
Elissa stares, and it as if the Frostbacks themselves are behind her eyes. I am thankful I am not on the receiving end.
"Fine." Her voice emerges at last, completing the picture. It is soft-spoken, controlled, and as icy as her gaze. The novelty of it stirs me further. "Run back to Loghain, and tell him we know the truth. He will pay for what he's done."
"I-I'll tell him, right now!" The soldier stumbles out of the tavern, not even stopping to reclaim his sword. Elissa does not watch his shameful escape. Instead her eyes fall upon me, no longer cut with ice, but filled with curiosity.
"Forgive me," I state, replacing my dagger. "But I could not just stand by and let this transpire. There has been enough blood spilled already, on all sides."
Elissa does not reply, and continues to stare. I lick my lips. Does she expect a more palatable response?
"Allow me to introduce myself." I decide to go for the most obvious route. "My name is Leliana, and I am a lay sister of the Chantry here."
Elissa nods, though my words barely soften her.
"I…couldn't help but overhear that they called you Grey Wardens." I find myself unable to hold my quiet, as new understanding unfolds. This meeting is no chance encounter, I am sure of it. "You do know that Loghain and his men accuse you of murdering the King of Ferelden?"
"We do, and it's a damned lie!" the young man hisses. "Loghain's the one who left us to die, that back-stabbing, two-faced…"
"Alistair, enough." Elissa raises her hand. Still she does not tear her eyes from me. I cannot tell if it is from inquisitiveness, or something else. "It sounds like you aren't in agreement with that rumour, sister?"
I finger the collar of my robes. I wonder if she has caught on to my intent.
"No, I am not," I answer. "There are always two sides to every story, and it seemed too convenient that only one could speak their part fully." I draw myself taller. "As such, I believe the Wardens were betrayed, and you will need all the help you can get to set things right. So…" I swallow back the last of my hesitation. "…I would like to…"
The soldier on the floor groans, interrupting.
"Traitors…" The utterance escapes him, and his left hand gropes for his boot. My eyes widen, and my dagger returns. Despite his stupor, he manages to free the poisoned knife, but that is as far as I let him go. My blade cuts into his throat, and he collapses, dropping the tainted steel. I sigh, whispering a prayer for the departed. Such a waste.
"Not bad reflexes for a Chantry sister," Alistair comments, folding his arms. "Where did you learn that?"
"Not all of us were born in a Chantry," I respond. It is a question I have learned to deflect well. "Some of us had other lives before."
"You have my thanks," Elissa says, opting to ignore Alistair's remark. "I can only apologise for having caught you up in this."
"It was no trouble," I answer. "In fact, I was going to ask if I could do more." I clear my throat, which has suddenly become dry. "The Blight threatens everyone, and I have seen what will come to pass if it is not stopped. Thus, I would be honoured if I could accompany you and help bring about its end."
Elissa blinks, caught off guard. For a moment the coldness melts, and her hazel eyes betray the truth. It is a duel of hope and pain; a battle I know too well. I wonder what has caused this conflict within her.
Yet before either cries victory, the frost returns.
"A kind offer, Leliana," Elissa begins, "but an unnecessary one. You would do better helping those who remain in Lothering to escape. We can't stop what is coming here, and there is not much time left."
The tavern seems to fall still, and I raise a hand to my chest. Of all possible outcomes, this was not one I considered. Especially when I had just proven myself.
"You would turn down help when it is freely offered?" My bitterness overcomes me, and the words spill before I can stem them.
Elissa scowls.
"You don't need to be involved, and I never asked." Her voice is a shard of ice, and it is all I can do to bite back a shiver. "Trouble yourself with other affairs, sister."
She gestures to her companions, and they leave. I stare after them, stunned. This was not…I did not…
The air becomes stifling, hot, and soon I walk out of the tavern as well. I remain in the shelter of its walls, holding my arms around myself. This makes no sense. If they are the only surviving Grey Wardens, what hope do they have against the armies of darkspawn? Perhaps I am just one person, but it is one more than nothing. And I know this is the path I must follow. Darkness has always followed me, in some shape or another, and I am not afraid to face it again. Not when it could spare another the same heartache. And not when so many lives could be saved as well.
There had to be a way to convince Elissa…
And I would find it.
It is alarmingly easy to slip into old routines, lurking amidst the shadows to follow them. A mabari hound is now also in their company, and it keeps close to Elissa. It will be wary for unfamiliar scents, but I am safe enough, given what surrounds us. Such an unusual band they make, but I know better than to judge on appearances. Already Elissa has proven more than she seems, and I most certainly have my work cut out for me.
Drifting soundlessly from corner to corner, I am almost frightened how my body responds. Every muscle is thriving, the thrill of the hunt coursing through my veins, as it has not done for a long while. Such eagerness awakens many memories, and I take a breath to steady myself. That life is no longer mine, and has no place bothering me here.
Still, I am grateful my skills have not waned. It further affirms my conviction. Even the Maker sees I have so much to offer. And I would make Elissa see that, as well.
At last I come within earshot, and their conversation echoes clear.
"The people are really desperate." Alistair shakes his head as they cross towards the windmill. "It's so sad."
"T'is pitiable, but not much we can do about it," the apostate answers. "T'would appear those who had the means to leave already have, and those who remain have only their own stubbornness or ill-fortune to blame."
"That doesn't mean we shouldn't care, Morrigan," Alistair grumbles.
"Perhaps, but such sentiment changes nothing," Morrigan states. "Your focus need be broader. T'is better to look to what can be done, rather than what cannot."
"Trust a witch to be so cold," Alistair huffs. "Come on Elissa, surely you can't agree with her?"
Elissa sighs.
"I feel bad enough for the villagers, but we have to concentrate on what's important," she says at last. "On our own, we can't do much more for Lothering, but we can make sure no other village has to suffer the same fate."
Alistair seems content with her answer, and he nods. I, too, feel a surge of warmth for this woman. She has the mind of a leader—what Ferelden dearly needs—and I can only be grateful she did not perish with her fellow Wardens.
They make for the herbalist, and it brings them to the main field. There Elissa stops dead, her gaze falling to the glistening steel bars. I remain close to the aqueduct, pulling my hair from my eyes. I did not think this would escape her notice. It will be interesting to see what she thinks.
"They're holding a prisoner?" Alistair scratches his chin. "At a time like this?"
Elissa frowns slightly, and approaches the cage. The qunari within meets her gaze, and it is like a glacier greeting a snowstorm.
"Leave me," the qunari states gruffly. "I will not be your amusement as I have been to the other humans."
"It was not my intent to treat you as such," Elissa answers. "I am simply amazed someone would imprison you when this place will soon disappear."
"The Chantry locked me in this cage," the qunari replies. "I am convicted of murder, and that is their sentence. I am surprised the villagers have not told you this."
Alistair flinches, and even Morrigan raises a brow. Elissa remains unshaken.
"Who did you murder?" Elissa presses.
"Eight humans, including children," the qunari states. There is no remorse in his voice, as there was none when he was first arrested. "Now I wait here to die, as has been decreed. I should not last much longer."
"Interesting how he admits guilt so readily," Morrigan muses.
"Perhaps the actions of one who already felt his life was forfeit," Elissa murmurs.
The qunari stares at her. It seems she has struck a nerve.
"Who are you?" he asks.
"That's not important," Elissa answers. "But tell me something. Despite what you've done, do you regret what happened?"
"The deed cannot be undone, and only death can be my atonement," the qunari says. "I crave death on the battlefield much more, but it is no longer my choice."
Elissa nods, folding her arms. She is mulling something over.
"Why are you wasting time with him?" Morrigan rolls her eyes. "His fate has been decided, t'is not for us to interfere."
"So you would leave him to perish from starvation, or let the darkspawn swarm him when he's defenceless?" Elissa clenches her jaw. "Even a murderer deserves more than that." She turns to the qunari again. "I won't come between you and your death-seeking, but if you long for battle so much, maybe I can grant you that."
The qunari grunts, not convinced.
"Help us against the Blight," Elissa goes on. "At least then your death might mean something."
"The Blight?" The qunari scowls. "Then you are a Grey Warden."
"Does it matter?" Elissa challenges.
The qunari growls to himself. It does not take long before he answers.
"Very well." He sets his jaw. "Set me free, and I, Sten of the Beresaad, will follow you against the Blight."
Such insight is reward enough, and I withdraw. My eyes hone on the Chantry, and my steps quicken. This is all the opportunity I require. The Revered Mother is the qunari's keeper, and she will not be easily coaxed. But I also know what will soften her heart, and given what I have seen, Elissa has little hope of achieving the same.
Nonetheless, I cannot quell the jealous pangs in my chest. Elissa would readily recruit a murderer, yet would hesitate to take a Chantry sister? I shake my head. I do not understand her at all.
Although, a quiet voice reminds, I am not truly guiltless, either. I have committed terrible acts of my own, and deserve to be caged as much as the qunari, should anyone discover the truth. Perhaps that is what Elissa sensed, and that scares me more than anything.
No. I take a deep breath. I am not the same person. That woman, that…life…it is not me. Not anymore.
It is not a moment too soon that I reach the Lothering Chantry. Despite my urgency, I find myself pausing to admire the bronze stone. I have called this place home for some time, and the fact that I might never see it again starts to sink in. I swallow the quiver in my throat, clenching my fists. It has given more than I could have asked for, yet part of me always realised I would have to move on, one day. Time and faith have let me heal, and now I have found purpose once more, it seems that day has finally come.
It is the Maker's will.
I enter, into chaos. The floor is awash with packed bodies, more than had been there yesterday, and my fellow brothers and sisters are caught between them. A breath escapes, and I brush back my hair. It has been like this for days—Lothering can barely house its own, let alone the refugees fleeing the wilds. Perhaps another reason I have been so restless, lately.
The Revered Mother is in the rear chamber, overseeing evacuation plans. I let her be, soon dragged to help with various duties. I can wait; it is not yet my moment to shine. As I take to tending the hearth, my gaze continually drifts to the doors. It will not be long now.
At last, Elissa and Alistair enter, unaccompanied. I smile to myself. It is no shock Morrigan remains absent, given Chantry law about mages. The mabari is also not present. It must be keeping her company.
Elissa does not acknowledge me, but Alistair gives a polite nod as they make their way to the Revered Mother. I murmur an excuse to one of the sisters and abandon my task, hovering close to the doorway.
"Maker's blessings upon you, children," the Revered Mother speaks. Elissa and Alistair both bow. "Is there something I can do for you?"
"You are most kind, Revered Mother," Elissa answers, the change in tone revealing her high-born heritage. "I do not wish to burden you, but I wanted to ask about the qunari you have imprisoned."
The Revered Mother tenses. A breath escapes her, and she makes to pace the chamber.
"What do you wish to know?" She finds her voice at last. "You are aware of his crime, are you not?"
"He confessed to murder," Elissa replies.
"It was more than that," the Revered Mother says. "He slaughtered an entire farmhold, and all after they had tended to his grievous wounds."
"That's terrible!" Alistair gasps.
"Oft times I think execution would have been the greatest kindness," the Revered Mother continues. "Yet I have left his fate to the Maker."
"I see." Elissa licks her lips. "But as horrific an act as he's committed, doesn't leaving him defenceless to face the darkspawn seem too harsh?"
"He has said enough times that only death will be his atonement," the Revered Mother answers. "Whether lack of sustenance or the darkspawn take him is irrelevant."
"He wants to die in battle," Elissa argues. "You yourself know that Lothering will not remain for much longer. Would it not be fair to allow him to fight, to give your people more chance to escape?"
The Revered Mother's eyes narrow.
"Why are you so interested in him?" she asks. "He has proven how dangerous he is, and he holds no loyalty to us, that much is clear. He will certainly not fight for our sake, either." Her fists clench. "I cannot let him go."
Her tone is curt, final. Further discussion will not be entertained. Elissa, however, oversteps the boundary.
"Leaving him there is as much an act of murder as what he did." Her voice is blunt. "Even the condemned should be allowed to choose…"
"Enough, child!" The Revered Mother glares, and that is my cue.
Before more words can be exchanged, I enter the chamber. A nervous smile flickers across Alistair's face, and Elissa catches me from the corner of her eye.
"Please excuse me, your Reverence," I begin. "Are these two troubling you?"
"Do you know these strangers, Sister Leliana?" the Revered Mother asks.
"Yes, and I humbly ask that you please forgive them." I fold my hands together. "They are new to Lothering, and have escaped much hardship to get here. I can only imagine how difficult it is for them to see another suffer so."
I have Elissa's full attention now, and even she cannot hide the sheer bewilderment in her eyes. Were it not for the circumstances, I might have laughed.
"That might be so, but it is not their place to judge," the Revered Mother says. "The qunari has been sentenced, and I can do no more. I will not risk further innocents' lives."
"I agree, but I feel we should still listen to them," I answer. "Is it not unusual, that out of all who have passed our village, only this woman found such compassion for one who needs it most? Does Andraste not teach us that all are deserving of the Maker's forgiveness, even those who sin against His name?" I let my words sink in. "Surely her example should be honoured, especially in such trying times. The qunari may yet prove to do good, under the right guidance, and I think she would be the one to provide it."
I end with a low bow, knowing I have shattered my target. The exhilaration is almost overwhelming, singing through my blood, and I bite back the smirk that wants to spread. It has been a long time since I have felt so. I had not realised how much I missed it.
The Revered Mother's gaze softens, and the creases in her brow recede.
"You speak truth, Sister Leliana," she states. "At times such as these, we should hold such teachings close, as the Maker's wisdom always prevails." She faces Elissa. "Very well. I will entrust custody of the qunari to you, child. But should anything further happen, it will be upon your head."
"I accept full responsibility," Elissa states. "Thank you."
The Revered Mother nods. She reaches into her robes, producing a key, and slips it into my hand. "Maker watch over you all."
Elissa and Alistair bow, before they follow me to the hall. I lead them outside, back into the cool dusk air. We halt under the porch. Elissa finds it hard to look at me, a soft blush creeping over her cheeks.
"You…didn't have to do that," she mutters.
"Come now, it was no trouble." I offer the key, but she does not take it. I raise a brow. "You do not wish to free the qunari anymore?"
Elissa hesitates.
"Of course I do, but…" She swallows, finding the courage to look me in the eye. "Why?"
"Why?" I repeat. "I don't think it can be explained in words, Elissa. I did this for the same reason you felt compelled to help that qunari."
"I didn't mean it like that," Elissa answers. "You know who we are, and what lies ahead of us, but you still want to come with us." She holds the back of her neck. "Why?"
A soft chuckle escapes me.
"I already told you, I know what will come to pass if the Blight is not stopped," I say. "Terrible darkness will engulf Ferelden, and all the Maker's creation will thrive no more. I cannot sit by and do nothing."
"Even when it could cost your life?" Elissa's gaze is unwavering. "Your future?"
I can only smile. A glimmer of the warmth behind her icy shield has broken through, and suddenly her earlier actions make sense. But my heart has already chosen, and cannot be shaken.
"There is no future so long as the darkspawn remain," I say. "And I am not afraid to risk myself to darkness."
Elissa murmurs to herself, considering my response. A long silence passes, until Alistair clears his throat.
"I think you should reconsider her offer, Elissa," he states. "It's not going to get any easier for us, and it sounds like she knows what's at stake."
Elissa's shoulders relax, and she meets my eyes again. The chill has thawed somewhat, and she releases a heavy breath. She has made up her mind.
"Alright then." She extends her hand "If this is really what you want, then…you can come with us, Leliana."
My smile broadens.
Maker, thank you.
"Thank you, Elissa." I take her palm and clasp it firmly. "You will not regret this, I swear."