A/N: Ugh. This one was a bitch to write.
Thank you everyone who has faved/followed/reviewed. I have the prettiest, smartest, most talented readers in the world (and yes, I'm not above flattery to keep you reading). Seriously, though, I appreciate each and every one of you.
Some notes about this installment. For those of you who have not read "If I've Killed One Man, I've Killed Two" and "Heavy are the Hearts That Wear the Crown" (the two stories of which this follows cannon) you might be a bit confused by some of the conversation between Elissa, Zevran and Evanthe. Feel free to read the stories if you so desire, but if not I'll give you the quick cliff's note version of what you need to know:
When Harlow Tabris (Hero of Ferelden) left Alistair in "If I've Killed" she extracted a promise from him that when one of them hears the calling they will seek the other out and run off to the deep roads to die together. She then went off to be with Zevran and Alistair married Elissa Cousland, who was less than pleased to hear of such an arrangement, though she came to terms with it eventually.
Hopefully that clears up any confusion you may have.
Love to all of you, and please review! Nothing kicks writers block in the face faster than a review!
Mia regina: my queen
mi cara: my dear
Mi dolce usignolo: my sweet nightingale
Evanthe found Leliana staring sightlessly out a broken window, her hands clasped loosely behind her back. The two were to meet with Queen Elissa Cousland so as to better determine what aid the now displaced queen would offer. When Elissa had sought refuge at Skyhold, fleeing for life after the Venetori had laid siege to Denerim, she had not arrived empty handed. A contingent of guardsmen and soldiers had arrived with her, bolstering the inquisition's forces. But that was over six months ago and Evanthe had little idea what of their number remained Leliana was to join her in the discussion, because in addition to troops, the Queen had brought along a skilled assassin, the mystery companion Cullen had earlier alluded to. Apparently the Orlesian Bard had worked closely with the man and would act as intermediary between her and Evanthe.
"Have you been to see a healer?" Evanthe asked quietly, noting how sickly the woman still appeared.
"Skyhold has but one in residence, Herald," Leliana replied tightly, "and you have sent him off to see to Varric and Iron Bull. Do not fear, I shall not collapse for lack of care. I'm sure you have other matters that are of greater import than my well being."
"Your well being is a matter of great import," Evanthe sighed.
"That remains to be seen," Leliana replied, eyes still trained on the outside world. The stiffness and formality of the words pricked at something in Evanthe, adding another layer to the headache of troubles that surrounded her. She was still aggravated from her conversation with Cullen and the bard's thinly veiled contempt was one insult too many. The despair that had blanketed Evanthe since her arrival suddenly gave way to anger. She became livid, not just at Leliana, but at all of them. The whole ordeal suddenly seemed massively unfair. Those that surrounded her seemed to blame her for the world's ills. Either because she had the audacity to be born a mage, or, through not fault of her own, she had been absent from the fall of civilization. Her patience and understanding had reached its limit, and right then, in that moment, Evanthe just wanted to be pissed at the world.
"It appears you and I have a problem, sister Leliana." If the woman could stand on icy cold ceremony, so could Evanthe. "Though for the life of me I cannot quite figure out why. You seem to hold me responsible for what was done to you, to everyone, despite the fact that I wasn't here. Your feelings are misguided and I refuse to allow your anger towards me to fester. You, Cullen, the whole lot...you all act as if I were merely on holiday, traipsing about until I could be bothered to come back! None of this is my fault! I am sorry Fiona was spineless and went tucked tail to the first offer of help, and I am sorry that so many mages followed suit. But, and I can't state this enough, it wasn't my fucking fault! Nor was it Dorian's or any other mage who resides within these walls. You, along with everyone else, needs to accept that or we are doomed. If we are to have any chance at rebuilding, your self pity and malaise can have no place within the inquisition. So I suggest you decide what is more important to you; saving the realm or hating me for the rest of your days."
"I was tortured, Herald. For months," Leliana replied with a deadly calm, turning to focus that haunted gaze upon the elf.
"And it was not my hand holding the whip," Evanthe stated firmly. "I am not suggesting you ignore what was done to you and go about life as you once did. By all means, take the time to heal in body and mind, but do not paint me as the villain in all this. It does neither of us any favors."
"I do not see you as the villain in this horror."
"Then why the coldness? Why treat me as if I-"
"Because it is all a lie!" the bard screamed, her voice echoing through open chamber. Evanthe stepped back at this, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. A silence descended as Leliana breathed hard, the declaration having weakened her. "It is all a lie," she repeated after a time, voice softer than before. "Your reappearance, now, when all is lost and beyond hope, is a slap in the face of all that I struggled to hold faith in. The Maker, his bride, it is all a fallacy, and your reemergence into our world proves that."
Evanthe closed her eyes and cursed softly. She had been so wrong. All this time she thought the anger Leliana had felt towards her had been a misplaced hurt over her being absent for the destruction of their world. But now she could see that Sister Leliana, left hand of the divine, had somehow lost the one thing that had been a constant in her life: her faith.
"Leliana, I..." There were no words, or at least none that she could offer that would not ring hollow and pandering. Evanthe had never believed in the Maker. As one of the clan she was raised to believe in Mythal and Elgar'nan, not some absentee parental figure who had permanently turned his back upon his children. As such she was woefully unprepared to offer comfort in such a situation, so instead she asked questions, hoping the bard would find her way back to faith through her own answers. "I don't quite understand how my presence, or lack there of, somehow disproves the existence of the Maker."
"You were her instrument, Evanthe," Leliana replied, her voice cracking, "a sign from Andraste that she still looked to her children. You were supposed to have been chosen by the hand of something holy, a balm to soothe a frightened world. And then you were taken from us in the hour of our need and were were left to the slaughter that followed. So many of the faithful struck down, and not one sign from either of them that they cared. While the world collapsed the Maker and his bride did nothing. If you were truly her herald then you would have returned long ago, not now, when the only choice left to us is how we want to perish. Your absence in all this is the most damning truth of all; Andraste cares nothing for her children, and the Maker gave up on us long ago."
By the end of her speech Leliana was silently weeping, and Evanthe was close to joining her. The passion with which she had spoken, loss and anger weaving through the words like a tapestry, had been gut wrenching to hear. Evanthe could only imagine what Leliana was feeling. To have dedicated your entire life to serving something only to be abandoned you in your hour of need? It must have been devastating.
"So you see, Evanthe," Leliana said on a shuddering sigh, "it is not that you are a villain It is simply that you represent a loss I feel I am not fit to bear."
"You are fit to bear it," Evanthe replied fiercely, gripping the other woman's hands tight in hers. "I can not council you on your lost faith. Having never once believed I was Andraste's herald I am ill equipped to do so. But you are stronger than this, Leliana. Any woman who has done what you have has to be. You ended a blight, served at the left hand of the Divine, and the name nightingale is spoken of in hushed whispers. What is the loss of a cruel god when compared to that? You lost your faith, Leliana, not your strength."
"Pretty words that are easy to hear but hard to believe," Leliana replied grimly, but some of the sorrow had been leeched from her voice, and Evanthe took it as a triumph. "I am sorry, Evanthe. You did not deserve my ire. And please make my apologies to your companion. I treated Dorian abysmally as well."
"Well, he is a bit much to handle in the midst of a crisis," Evanthe offered with a theatrical sigh. It earned her a small smile from the bard, a victory in and of itself. "Come," she urged, taking Leliana's hand in hers and leading her to the makeshift receiving room in which they would meet the Queen. "We're already abysmally late. I may not know much about shem life, but I'm fairly sure it's considered gouache to keep royalty waiting."
"You will find that the courtesies once owed the crown no longer apply to day to day life," Leliana replied as they approached the door.
"All the better," Evanthe muttered as she pushed the door inward without bothering to knock, "seeing as I didn't know them in the first-" She was unceremoniously cut off from her thought by a handsome elf slamming into the door frame, a dagger pressed tight to her throat. The blade was steady, not even a waver, the edge just this side of parting skin.
"I believe in polite circles it is customary to knock, yes?" he asked dangerously, his woodland eyes staring into her with the hard edge of someone who thought mercy a foreign concept.
"Apologies," Evanthe croaked out, hands raised in surrender.
"Oh for the love of-Zevran, please, enough," a feminine and thoroughly exasperated voice intoned from over him shoulder. A moment later a delicate pair of hands wrapped about the elf's forearm, gently urging him to release his captive. Evanthe slid her eyes to the side, landing upon a stunningly beautiful woman. Her mahogany hair was swept grandly into a graceful chignon at base of her neck and her dark, fathomless eyes were filled with equal parts mirth and irritation. She bore a regal air about her, a command that seemed a natural to her as breathing, and Evanthe quickly deduced that this was none other than Elissa Cousland, displaced queen of Ferelden.
"Mia Regina, you are as trusting as you are beautiful. Which is to say far too much. We do not know her intentions, and I-"
"Zevran," Leliana intoned softly and instantly the man's entire demeanor changed.
"Lei," he breathed, and in that one word Evanthe could hear a lifetime's worth of worry unravel into painful, all encompassing relief. He released her instantly, dropping his weapon and fair running to intercept the Orlesian bard. Leliana met him half way, her arms already out stretched, and the two crashed into one another, hands clinging desperately to eachother's shoulders as if they were afraid the other might be taken from them at any moment.
"Mi dolce usignolo," he mumbled into her shoulder.
"Zevran," Leliana replied, the word a benediction all its own. The two began to converse in hushed, reverent tones, and Evanthe was hard pressed to hear more beyond a few words whispered in Antivan. Whatever they were discussing was clearly a moment of deep emotion, and Evanthe felt like an unwelcome intruder in their midst.
"Do forgive my companion's...enthusiasm," Elissa murmured from over her shoulder, drawing her attention from the pair. "Zevran has a tendency to be over protective. It is a trait I find highly irritating but it has nonetheless kept me alive thus far. One would think that with the world gone to hell at the hands of a mad man that politics would take gracious step back, but alas, no."
"Your Majesty?" Evanthe questioned, still bewildered by all that was happening around her.
"Forgive me, I find myself rather put out at all the attempts on my life of late," the queen huffed in displeasure. "It has been better since we sought refuge at Skyhold, but before that it was one too many for Zevran to handle, and as such he treats any unknown as a threat to be skinned alive and questioned later." Elissa paused briefly, turning to face Evanthe with a well rehearsed smile painted upon her face, her luminous dark eyes flat and empty of anything even resembling emotion. "And please, call me Elissa. It's not as if I have even the slightest remnant of a throne anymore. No need to stand on ceremony, or anything at all, really. I have come to find that hierarchy means little when everything has gone to shit."
"Evanthe Lavellan," she replied with a slight bow, finding herself instantly drawn to woman. "It is an honor to meet you. I apologize for my abrupt entrance, I was-"
"Thoroughly pissed off and trying to hide it," Elissa finished for her with a quirk of her eyebrow. "Having been in the same position enough times I find it easy to recognize in others. Do not worry. You would not be the first person to barge in upon me unannounced My husband makes quite a habit of it." And the mention of her husband the queen's voice cracked every so slightly, and a deep sadness filled her eyes, causing them to darken even further. Evanthe looked away, unsure what she could say in that moment that would not come across as callous.
"I didn't know Leliana had a lover," she offered in an effort to change the subject.
"If she does I am unaware of it," Elissa replied. "Zevran is not her paramour, simply an old friend who worried he would never see her again. Too many of the women in his life have disappeared of late; it is good that she survived. Had she perished I fear I would be the only tie to Harlow he had left, and a poor, desperate one at that."
"Harlow? Harlow Tabris?" Evanthe gaped in shock before letting out a disbelieving chuckle. "The Hero of Ferelden? My, but you do keep interesting company."
"I wouldn't say that. I have met the woman only once. Harlow and I...we have an understanding of sorts." Evanthe could tell instantly that it was far more complicated than that, and while she yearned to pry, she instinctively knew that the Queen would be less than forthcoming. "It is in fact that very understanding that led me to Skyhold. Had Harlow and Alistair not kept to their blasted promise Zevran would never have sought me out, and I would have died in Denerim long ago. I owe my life to his heartache and isn't that just the most godawful thing to be grateful for?" Evanthe had nothing to say to that and was fortunately saved from having to form a response by Leliana and Zevran finally deigning themselves to join the pair.
"You are still beautiful as ever, mi cara," Zevran teased the bard, his arm slung over one of her shoulders. "Tell me, how many hearts have you left broken since I've seen you last?" Leliana blushed and swatted at his chest, a girlish giggle ringing forth from her lips. The sound was such an echo of the Leliana that Evanthe used to know that it nearly made her tear up, heart clenching around the hope that perhaps this man man could help the bard find her way back home.
"Herald," Leliana announced as she cleared her throat in an effort to regain her composure. "May I present Zevran Aranai."
"I take it you two know each other?" she inquired lightly.
"Yes, Zevran and I fought alongside one another during the blight. And many other times since."
"I apologize for my greeting, mi amiga," Zevran interjected, "but I do not take the queen's safety lightly. You would do well to remember that."
"That much I gathered. I shall endeavor to knock in the future," Evanthe gritted out through clenched teeth. The man may have had noble intentions but Evanthe was getting rather tired of being shoved and startled into walls.
"Well this is all together awkward and unpleasant, I almost feel as if I'm back at court, how nice," Elissa chirped with false politeness. "Perhaps we could instead focus on the matter at hand. I am assuming, herald, that you come to me to ask just what show of strength I can offer you. I regret to tell you that it is very little. What force accompanied me to Skyhold has dwindled under Corypheus' constant assaults. I have but fifty men left to me, and I am loathe to lose more."
"Fifty is better than none," Evanthe argued, "and you give yourself too little credit if you think your strength lies solely in the troops you command."
"The lovely herald has a point, mia regina, one I have made countless times," Zevran interjected, earning him a sharp glare from the Queen.
"We have been over this before, Zevran. I do not wish to have the same argument yet again."
"But you have such a fire in you when you yell, mi cara," he teased.
"I'll show you fire, you uppity little man. I swear-"
"If we could focus," Evanthe interrupted with impatience. "To what are you referring Zevran?"
"Our fair Elissa is not the only displaced noble in the realm," the elf replied, "only the most royal, yes? There are a host of others, each hiding out in their own crumbling fortresses. What Elissa is objecting to is the notion that we call them home to court, as it were."
"I fail to see why that would be a bad thing," Evanthe murmured, quirking a brow at the queen who was making every effort in the world to avoid meeting her eyes. "I'm assuming each of these nobles have a retinue of soldiers?"
"Most do, yes," Elissa replied quietly before throwing her hands up in exasperation. "But it does not discount the fact that even if I were to call them to Skyhold and hold court they very well may not show up!"
"Why is that?" Evanthe questioned.
"Look around, Evanthe," Elissa remarked wearily. "What is left of my kingdom but ash and corpses? There is nothing for me to rule over let alone hold up a cause. Calling a court would do little. The ruling class no longer exists. We are, all of us, merely children hiding in the shadows waiting for the monster to swallow us whole. There is no point in calling the nobility to my side, because there is nothing left to fight for."
"Our men need something to fight for," Cullen's voice echoed through mind. Evanthe frowned, turning the words over in her head. At the time she had argued against them, wanting to simply be a woman and not the tool of a goddess. But perhaps the former templar had a point. Soldiers by their very nature needed a figure to rally behind, someone they could build up into legend to make the horror of war somehow bearable. Evanthe had no desire to be that mythical savior, but she had an idea of someone who might just be willing.
"I think you're wrong," she murmured after a time, "there is plenty still to fight for. But I see your point. We need something...large...impactful. Something close to a miracle to show the nobility that you still bear notice."
"I don't know if you've noticed, mi amiga," Zevran interjected, "but miracles are in short supply as of late. Perhaps you would do better to seek out a simple quirk of fate, instead?"
"No," Evanthe replied firmly, keeping her eyes upon the queen, "a miracle. You said your husband and the Hero of Ferelden had made a promise to one another?" Upon hearing the question Zevran cursed low, rattling of a string of Antivan swear words that would make even the most salty of sailors blush.
"Yes," Elissa replied tightly, "that when the first of them heard the calling within their blood they would seek the other out."
"But it wasn't a true calling, right?" Evanthe asked, looking to Leliana for clarification.
"No," the bard agreed. "it was not. But by the time we realized Corypheus was manipulating the wardens it was too late. Commander Clarel had sacrificed them all in a desperate effort to stem the tide of the false blight."
"Was Harlow and Alistair among them? Did they journey to Adamant?" Evanthe prodded and she saw the moment in which the Queen caught on to her thinking, her dark eyes going wide in surprise.
"No," Elissa answered quickly, the faint stirrings of excitement in her voice. "That was never their agreement."
"Then what was?" Evanthe goaded. "Where did the Hero and King of Ferelden run off to?"
"The deep roads," Zevran replied quietly, a guarded expression in his eyes. Evanthe could see that the man was holding himself back from feeling even the barest glimmer of hope. It was easier for him to believe the worst, perhaps because in hoping for the best he had faced too much bitter disappointment. "I know where you are going with this, mi amiga, but even so. Even if the calling had not felled them, then surely a year spent in the company of the darkspawn army did."
"Zevran-" Elissa argued gently with an out stretched hand, but the elf was having none of it and angrily brushed away her offer of comfort.
"No, mia regina," he growled, "I know you wish to hold on to the fantasy that he yet lives, but I can not abide such a luxury"
"Do you wish so badly for her to be lost to you?" Elissa countered angrily.
"Yes," he cried, "because it is better to think her dead than think of her abandoning me as she did! That she would choose a year in hell with that buffoon over time spent at my side!"
"Have a care with how you speak of my husband," Elissa warned.
"Enough!" Evanthe cried, stepping between the two of them. "Clearly there is more to the story than either of you is letting on. But I frankly don't care at the moment. My only goal is garner whatever strength I can so that the next time Corypheus knocks upon our door we have the slightest chance of damaging his reign. To do that I need as many allies and their forces as we can get. If Elissa is not enough to win the nobility's trust then perhaps Alistair and Harlow are."
"It is a fools errand and-"
"I said enough!" she thundered. "I am in command here, Zevran. If you and your queen wish to remain under my protection, then you will fall. In. Line." For a moment Evanthe was certain he would not back down. His fists her clenched and she instinctively readied herself for the blow. In the end it was Elissa's soft plea that had him retreating, stepping back from his rage and reluctantly agreeing.
"Please, Zevran," the queen murmured, "I have to know. I have spent a year wondering and I can wonder no more. I must take the chance, however small. And if the herald is right...would you not give anything to look upon her once more?"
"As you say, mi cara," Zevran whispered, turning to take his leave, "I am yours to command." When he had gone, and it was just the three women left alone, Evanthe let loose the breath she had been holding, a tension easing from her shoulders.
"It is settled then," Elissa muttered. "You have my blessing. I ask only one thing in return." Evanthe looked at her expectantly and the queen took a deep shuddering breath. "I would like for Zevran and I to accompany you when you...when you start the search."
"I don't think you know what you're asking, Your Majesty," Evanthe argued, "I cannot, in good conscious take you-"
"If you are worried about my safety you need not bother. Zevran may be angry with me, but he'd protect me with his life. And even in that weren't true I can hit the bulls eye of a target from fifty paces with my eyes closed. I have always been more than able to protect myself, herald."
"Very well," Evanthe said after a time, "but you will humor me and surround yourself with a contingent of your guardsmen. I would hate to rescue your husband only to inform him of your death." Elissa nodded in agreement and Evanthe sighed, mind already spinning out all that lay ahead for this plan to succeed "Of course, none of this means anything if we cannot find them. It's not as if the deep roads are localized to a specific region. They traverse nearly all of Thedas."
"I believe I can be of help with that," Leliana interjected, and Evanthe turned to her expectantly. "During the blight Harlow, Alistair and myself spent a month or more deep within an ancient part of the deep roads known as Ortan Thaig. From a strictly practical standpoint it would make sense that they would return. When a warden goes to his calling he intends to die, valiantly, by taking as many darkspawn with him as he can. What better location to slaughter the creatures than one that they have already traversed, one they know and can use to their advantage?"
"And how do we get to this thaig?" Evanthe asked, almost dreading the answer.
"The entrance is in Orzamar," Leliana supplied, "though I do not know what has befallen the dwarven kingdom since Corypheus unleashed his army."
"I suppose we'll find out when we get there," Evanthe muttered, "though if it remained untouched, it would be a miracle. If not...well, it's not alone in its downfall."