(Warning: This one may be pushing the rating a teensy bit. Not recommended reading for work or school.)

99. A Leap of Faith

Dragon bone proved almost impossible to carve, but Meila wasn't going to give up. She could feel the bead nestled inside what had once been a talon, and it was her duty to bring it out. What form it took was another question entirely.

The bard stood on the platform next to hers, gazing down into the black pit in front of them. The others were on the other side of the chamber, Wynne chastising Zevran and Finian for bouncing from platform to platform, which seemed to play havoc with the ghostly shape in the middle of the chasm.

Alistair was standing on the first floating platform that had come into existence when Leliana had taken her position. He looked pale, eying the ghostly bridge in front of him dubiously.

Meila's attention, however, was on the bard… as it seemed to always be these days. She couldn't get the human's voice out of her head. Her music, and her good-heartedness, and her refusal to let the evils of the world around them bring her down. Once, Meila had thought it arrogance, but now she knew that Leliana's grandiose dreams were not a matter of arrogance, but of hope. It was a hope that struck a chord deep in the Dalish elf.

Leliana showed little of that precious optimism now, though. She stared morosely into the dark pit below them, lost in thought. Something in their meeting with the ghosts had clearly unsettled her, as it had them all. For her part, Meila couldn't seem to get the forgiveness in Tamlen's eyes out of her mind. It was why she now busied herself with her carving.

Still, she couldn't help but watch the bard out of the corner of her eye.

"My goodness, would you two simply stand still? I am trying to uncover the pattern."

"My dear Wynne," Zevran replied flippantly, "you are no more likely to uncover the pattern by careful planning than we are by jumping around like madmen. And our way sounds much more fun."

"I wish Felicity was here," Alistair grumbled. "She could probably do it… and she'd make sure I didn't die. I miss that."

"Fear not, my friend. We shall return you to your lady friend in due course. Once we solve the puzzle that the Maker has so kindly erected for us, yet has nothing to do with a test of faith."

"Oh Zevran," the hahren sighed.

Meila cast a concerned glance over at Leliana. The elf rarely took part in their banter, but the bard rarely passed a chance to join in… particularly when there was anything negative being said about her Maker.

"Are you all right, satusulahn?"

Leliana glanced up at her, smiling faintly. "It is all right. Do not worry about me."

Meila noted that that was not a 'yes.' Hesitantly, unfamiliar with the custom, she ventured, "Do you wish to talk about it?"

"Oh, Meila. You don't have to do that."

That frustrated her, and she lowered her carving. "You are obviously upset. Is it amiss to wish to know what is wrong?"

The bard blinked at her, startled. "Not… wrong. Just unexpected." She turned back to gazing down into the pit. "That phantom… he was…" she trailed off.

"A good friend?"

"The best." She wiped at her eyes, and Meila took a step toward her in alarm, before recalling that they needed to stay on their platforms, lest Alistair go plunging down into the abyss. "It was partly because of me that he died. If he hadn't gotten caught up in bardic intrigue…" She shook her head sadly.

"I do not understand." But she wanted to, very badly.

"I was not always a chantry sister," Leliana said. "There was a time that I led a very… different life. I was not a good person. I did terrible things."

"We have all done terrible things, satusulahn." Leliana shook her head in denial, obviously thinking the elf knew nothing of regret. This could not stand. "There was a time when I would have killed on sight any human who was found wandering too close to my clan." Leliana's eyes snapped up. "In fact, I did. Many times." The pain of those lives she had cut short hit her now, but she took a breath and weathered it. "I cannot take back those lives I took, and I cannot hope to find their families and make amends. However, I know now that it was wrong, and so I can only strive to do better in the future."

Leliana nodded. "That was why I joined the chantry… to get away from that sort of life, so I wouldn't be tempted. Yet here I am."

"If it is any consolation, I would not have been able to remain in a life of peace and inactivity either."

They shared a brief smile. Then, Wynne's voice spoke up, "Meila, move around to Leliana's other side." Silently, the Dalish elf did so, watching the next platform shimmer into place in front of Alistair. The warrior stepped onto it nervously.

"What of you?" Leliana asked. "Was that man… the one we saw on the road?"

"Yes. That was Tamlen."

"I am sorry."

"Do not be. He was suffering. Putting him down was a mercy." Still, she could not look at the other woman.

"You cared about him a lot."

"We grew up together. He adored the hunt as much as I did. We took down our first boar together." She reached up, touching the bead from that first kill, wound into her hair at her right temple. "He was always temperamental and entirely too brash, but so very brave. He was as a brother to me."

"I thought that, once, too, about the woman I worked for." Leliana smiled sadly. "I cared about her, too, and not like a sister. But then she went and turned on me. I should have seen it coming, but I was so blind back then."

Meila's heart ached for the bard. "We are all blind until our eyes are forcibly opened."

"That is very true."

Wynne's voice interrupted them. "Blast it, that is not correct. Meila, please move back to the platform you were on before."

Distractedly, Meila did so. Something was snagging in her mind. Once she was back on the original platform, she said, "A woman?"

Leliana's smile was wistful. "Yes. A beautiful, strong-willed, brilliant woman. Marjolaine as the kind of woman you only meet once. That meeting does not end well, but you often find you can't regret it."

"I was… not aware that it was acceptable for a woman to…"

"To what? Fall in love with another woman?"

Meila nodded jerkily. The philosophy of the Dalish clans had no room for such things, and Finian had given her the impression that it would not be welcome in the human world, either. Then again, he was quite clearly bedding the Antivan, and none of their companions batted an eye.

"It is not about a woman, or a man, or however one identifies oneself," Leliana said, that melodic lilt of idealism returning to her voice. "It is about two people, recognizing in one another something that they need."

"And you needed something from this Marjolaine?"

"I did. Security, and companionship, and guidance. But I don't need that anymore, not now that I have the Maker, and all of you."

Leliana smiled at her, and Meila couldn't help but return it. "So then, what do you need now, satusulahn?"

The bard hummed in thought. "Goodness, I think. And strength, to keep me from wandering. Oh, and a good sense of humor helps too, no?"

Meila arched a brow. "Do you realize that you just described Alistair?"

Leliana laughed, light and musical. "And that is a bit horrifying, no? No, not Alistair." She wrinkled her nose, looking at the man stepping carefully onto the next bridge section as it appeared in front of him. "Definitely not Alistair. I think I need to work on my list, then. What about you?"

"Me?"

"Yes. What do you need?"

Meila blinked, surprised. No one had ever asked her such a question before. "I have never really thought about it." She watched Finian test one of the platforms with a foot, making Alistair shout anxiously. "I have always stood on my own strength, even when hunting with Tamlen. It seemed… unnecessary. Unpleasant, even, to burden myself with the care of another."

"That must have been very lonely," Leliana breathed, and it was not pity Meila heard in her voice, but compassion.

"It was," Meila murmured. "Now I am unsure how to stop."

Leliana reached out a hand toward her, but they were interrupted by a victorious whoop from the center of the room. Alistair had made it all the way across, and the bridge was now solid as it spanned the abyss.

The look in the bard's eyes promised that they would continue this later, and they headed over the bridge after the warrior. With a collective sigh, they passed through a doorway…

…only to be met with a wall of fire.

"Oh, great," Alistair drawled. "Who let Kazar do the decorating?"

Behind the flames, they could see an elaborate chamber, with a high dais centralized against the back wall and a statue of a woman standing tall in the center.

In front of them, just inside the fiery blockade, stood a pedestal with a golden plaque on it. Wynne stepped forward to read it.

"'Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit,'" the healer read. "'King and slave, lord and beggar; be born anew in the Maker's sight.'"

"Aha!" the Antivan crowed. "And finally, we reach an actual test of faith! One of four is not a good ratio. Whoever designed these tests should be fired immediately."

Finian squeaked something that only the assassin could hear, and Zevran barked a laugh. Meila winced… every time Finian spoke since the dragon, she couldn't help but think that it sounded like his throat hurt badly.

"Does this mean we have to walk through the fire?" Alistair said. "Can we… not? Maybe have you fancy rogues just climb up and over the walls instead?"

"Alistair!" Wynne chided.

"What? I'm rather attached to my skin. I'd rather not burn it off, thank you."

"The Maker will not let us come to harm," Leliana said, reaching up to start undoing her leathers. Meila found herself fascinated by the motion.

"Leliana!" Wynne cried. "Dear, what are you doing?"

"It says to cast off worldly trappings. Certainly, everyone knows what that means?"

Zevran whooped another laugh. "The Maker wants us to get naked together, eh? You know, this fellow is really starting to grow on me!"

"Oh dear…" Wynne sighed, rubbing her head.

"So wait," Alistair said. "We not only have to walk through a wall of fire… we have to do it in the altogether? Is no one else the least bit worried about this? What if this is all an elaborate trap?"

"In Andraste's resting place?" Leliana said. "I should hope not." She peeled off her cuirass.

"I say sally forth," Zevran said, his grin bright and highly entertained. "If it is, indeed, an elaborate trap, then the trappers are welcome to their spoils. It would have taken a great deal of work to set up all those ghosts and puzzles for a hoax, when a simple net would have been far easier and likely just as effective."

"That's creepy, Zevran," Alistair deadpanned. "Stop being creepy."

The assassin shrugged, then stooped to untie his boots. "What? I appreciate a thorough job when I see it."

A hand touched Meila's arm, and she jumped, tearing her gaze away from the sight of Leliana's skin being revealed inch by inch. The smile Finian gave her was soft and encouraging, and she was uncertain why.

It startled Meila back into action, at least. She turned her attention to her own armor, her fingers hovering over the straps as she realized just what it would mean.

This was a test of faith of the human Maker… a being which Meila put little stock in, and would not have followed even if she believed in such a being. Would this wall of fire somehow sense that and kill her for it? Or was it merely another illusion? Somehow, she doubted that anything here was mere illusion; there was magic here, to be certain… what kind was up for debate.

"Meila?" Wynne asked. "Is something wrong, dear?" She, like the others, was starting to divest her equipment.

"I am… concerned," she admitted quietly. "I cannot cloak myself in the goodness of a Maker I do not follow, and would make no attempt to pretend otherwise."

Zevran snorted. He stood completely nude, amidst a pile of leather and an unlikely quantity of weapons discarded from his person. "I would not be worried. The meat of it is the riddle… the rest was just flavor text."

Wynne sighed. "Zevran, must you be so disrespectful in the shadow of the Urn?"

The Antivan shrugged unapologetically, but took the hint to shut up. Instead, he leered pointedly at Alistair, who was down to his smalls and doing his best to cover his groin with his hands.

Everyone else was nearly done, and Meila would not be left behind. So, she stiffened her spine and set about removing her equipment. Her quiver and bow, she set on the ground, followed by her herb pouch, her carving tools, her hunting knife, and her waterskin. Her armor went last, with little fanfare, until she stood as naked as the rest of them in front of the roaring fire.

Finian laughed creakily at something, and Meila turned to note that he was nudging Alistair playfully. The warrior was still in his smalls, blushing from head to toe.

"Oh, really, Alistair," Wynne sighed. She had her arms crossed over her chest for modesty (and to hide her bosom from an all-too-eager Zevran's perusal). "You've lived in a barracks before, and an army camp. You've been naked in front of your comrades, certainly?"

"Well, yes… but none of them were him, were they?" He waved a hand toward the assassin, whose grin was utterly sanguine. He was taking far too much enjoyment in this situation, as far as Meila was concerned.

Fin whispered something to Zevran, and the Crow burst out laughing. "Mi amor suggests that the women be kind enough to distract my lecherous gaze from the poor innocent chantry boy. As a matter of charity, of course. What do you say, my dear Wynne? Will you give me an eyeful of your lovely bosom, to save Alistair's virgin modesty?"

"No, but I will gladly freeze your eyes shut. For Alistair's sake."

"Well played, you crafty mage!"

Meila watched them at it, her heart aching at the fondness she could see between them all… even Alistair and Zevran. Was this sort of comradery what she had been missing all those years? Each weakness was bolstered by another's strength, so each of them needn't stand alone.

She smiled, because she needn't feel like an outsider here. These people had seen her in her weakness, and they thought no worse of her for it. In fact, they had supported her when she had been unable to function. When the Taint had been slowly eroding her strength, they had carried her and healed her. When Tamlen's death had broken her spirit, they had sat beside her and helped her lay him to rest.

All her life, she had fought to protect her kin and clan, and yet, here with these people, she only now understood what that meant.

"Is everyone ready?" Leliana asked brightly. Meila turned toward her, and her breath caught. The human was glowing, within and without… firelight limned her form, illuminating smooth skin and old scars alike. Something about seeing her like this—so vulnerable, and yet empowered—made Meila's heart flutter.

"Off they come, I guess," Alistair sighed, and for all their teasing, everyone averted their eyes from the uncomfortable warrior.

Wynne was the first to step through, going carefully and with a healing spell at the ready in one hand. But she made it through without incident, and turned an encouraging smile to the rest of them. "It is hardly even warm."

Leliana followed after that, her head held high and her movements sure and graceful. Alistair followed with a mumble.

Zevran stepped forward next, but hesitated slightly just before the flames. Then, Finian slipped past him, tweaking his hindquarters just before stepping into the fire, and Zevran followed him to seek revenge, laughing.

Meila stared at the flames, her doubts once again making her hesitate.

"You don't need to be afraid, Meila," Leliana said, and Meila looked up to see that the bard was standing in the flames, extending a hand toward her. "We won't let you come to harm."

A test of faith though it was, Meila realized that this need not be a test of faith in the human Maker. No, this was a test of faith in her companions, and she was surprised to find that she trusted them wholeheartedly.

Meila reached out and took the human's hand. Their fingers twined together, and Leliana's smile was dazzling. The hunter took a step toward the bard, then another, her eyes never leaving Leliana's. The warm grip of the other's hand was her anchor.

Before the Blight, she never would have believed that she would one day trust a shemlen enough to walk through fire for her. And yet, that was exactly what she was doing now, and it wasn't all that large a leap of faith. It was as simple as knowing that this, here, was what she needed.

Leliana was what she needed.

"We're here," the human whispered, though she didn't break their eye contact. Meila registered that they had made it out of the wall of fire, but it was irrelevant.

Her heart fluttered as she stole closer, feeling the warmth coming off the human's softer body. Their fingers were still twined together, and Meila reached forward to take the bard's other hand. "We are, and I am not entirely certain how."

Leliana hiccuped a giggle, dropping her gaze to stare down at their linked hands. "Me neither." She swung their arms, and it was a gesture that was entirely Leliana's own. It was strange, knowing someone well enough to think things like that. "Where do we go from here?"

"I... think we need not talk." When Leliana's eyes met hers again, Meila started to lean in, giving the other time to resist. She'd never done anything like this before, and wasn't sure of proper protocol… but it felt right. And the smile that lit Leliana's eyes as their lips met erased any hesitation.

Her lips were soft and warm, just like the woman, and that was just so perfect that Meila grew bold. She deepened the kiss, letting her instinct guide her. She wrapped her arms around the bard, one hand finding the back of her neck while the other nestled perfectly into the smooth curve of the human's back. Leliana's body was all warm curves against her own leaner physique, but from here Meila could feel the strength underneath.

The world returned slowly, and Meila became aware of the others watching them—complete with catcalls and commentary. She felt her face get hot as she pulled away, but turned a hard look to them that defied them to say a disparaging word about it.

To her surprise, her companions were all smiling, and a bit too knowingly at that.

Leliana stepped away with a giggle, blushing for the first time that Meila had ever seen her. "I was wondering when you would realize it."

Meila looked between the lot of them, processing the fact that her monumental realization had apparently only been a surprise to her. Once, she may have been bothered by that, but now only sighed. Alas, if they each had weaknesses, lack of social awareness was definitely hers. It was one of the reasons Leliana fit opposite her so well.

"Next time, satusulahn, for efficiency's sake, perhaps it is best if you simply tell me these things."

"But this way, it is more fun, no?"

Despite herself, Meila found a smile tugging at her lips. "That it is."

"I agree!" came Zevran's voice. "And on the plus side, I no longer need to be distracted from Alistair's modesty."

Meila cleared her throat and turned her attention to the others. "I suspect it may also be fun to see whether an arrow can pass through holy fire and still do harm to an elven man."

Alistair stared in exaggerated shock. "Why, I do believe that was a joke. Again! Meila Mahariel… has a sense of humor? This place really is miraculous!"

"And a human man," Leliana said with a wink. "Shall we go test it?"

The bard held out her hand, and Meila took it with a smile. Together, they passed through the fire in reverse to retrieve their bows, the laughter of their companions chasing them in a chorus behind them.