AN: Thank you for the reviews!

9:33 Dragon, Summer

Sammie, my friend,

Thank you for your offer but I'm sorry, I don't think I can come back to Starkhaven. Maybe not ever.

I am not surprised by your generosity, but Goran's is a bit of a shock. I don't deserve the attention he gives me. I know what you're going to say, and I will write to him, but… What my family has done, what I was unable to prevent even though the signs were glaring… it fills me with rage. It fills me with more than that: with grief and guilt and shame. I treated him so poorly over the years. Why would he forgive me?

Some days I am glad that Sebastian killed my mother. Other days I wish I had done it myself. I can't even remember that night. The last thing I remember was that I was getting ready for Chantry service, and the next thing I know Sebastian is waking me up from where I lay on the dirty floor of the wine cellar with the worst headache of my life. I almost wish you could have seen the way he looked at me. The disgust, the pity… that's exactly the way everyone in Starkhaven will look at me, too. It's bad enough coming from him. I nearly lost it right in front of him and his strange mercenary group – that would have been the cherry on top.

I appreciate your attempts at softening the truth, but I have heard what everyone is saying. Vincent and Benjamin won't write me back but there are those that will, and they have made it quite clear that the Harimann name is ruined.

I know that my mother was not the only family vying for power in Starkhaven, and that's why I promised Sebastian that I would give him whatever support he needed moving forward. Yes, Sammie, as reparations, I gave him my estate. He said it would never make up for what my family has done, but that he would call on me when he needed me. I can't tell you the pain that his words caused me. His voice and the way he looked at me…

You asked about my family. Well, it's not good.

They found Father's body under a port in the Docks District. Fitting, isn't it? The great Lord Harimann who gave money to those Fereldan rats, killed in the streets and fed to the Kirkwall rats. I didn't even know, because that demon restricted every thought I had. Brett's wife left him and she took the kids, too. She called him a monster, and when we all tried to explain that it was the demon, she refused to listen! I think she went to back to Starkhaven, but I honestly don't know. I can't blame her for trying to salvage her reputation for her children. Ruxton is beside himself, and I don't know how to console him. I won't go into details for his sake, but suffice to say that the demon influenced him to act in a manner that is completely opposite to his nature and now he is a complete mess. It's like he doesn't know who he is anymore. Sometimes I wonder if any of us do.

What my mother has done, it can't be made right. Everyone I have loved, every place I have called home, every friendship, everything that bears my family's name is now tainted because of her and that demon.

This is madness, but I am grateful that I still have you, Sammie. It's nice to know that somewhere in the world, someone still loves me.

Love, Flora

Samantha had cried so thoroughly after reading the letter that Goran had to arrange for her to receive a sedative. The blessedly dreamless sleep that followed was the best gift he could have given her. But when she woke in her official room, Samantha still felt exhausted.

Flora. Her best friend was suffering. Samantha had written to her insisting that she come back to Starkhaven, offering her a home and protection, but Flora had refused. She was correct in her thinking that the nobles of Granite Circle would be reluctant to accept her back, but Samantha felt a surge of anger towards Sebastian for having worded it the way he had. She had heard of the Harimanns' demon from him, but many others in Starkhaven had heard from different sources and most of them came from Kirkwall. To Samantha, that meant that Sebastian had been careless with the information. This was all Lady Johane's doing – not that of her family. Understandably, he was upset, but Flora, Brett, and Ruxton weren't at fault. They were supposed to be his friends.

This was not the way things were supposed to have turned out. Flora and Samantha were raised as ladies of Starkhaven, believing that others around the world would look to them and admire them for their taste and beauty. They were supposed to be at once amazing and vulnerable, confident but with softness and mystery. But it was difficult to be confident with softness when people were dying. It was hard to be amazing and vulnerable when all that she could muster was survival. There was no mystery is loss.

Samantha had always assumed when she was of age, she and Corbinian would set out to see the world, for as the Marquess' wife, one of her primary duties was to be worldly. She had dreamed that they would go to exotic places and meet all kinds of people; more than just nobility or royalty, but the extraordinary. Scholars, heroes... She had been excited about leaving the frivolousness of her mother's occupation behind, finding nothing worthwhile about it except mockery. Similar to Samantha, Flora had spurned these notions but for entirely different reasons. She was not amazing and vulnerable – she was amazing and opinionated. She wasn't confident with softness; she was confident with perseverance. Flora was a lady but also a fighter. She had never once fit in with the noble society of Starkhaven.

None of that mattered anymore, though, because they were never going to become who they had been raised to be.

She showed Goran the letter and he only sighed when he read the part about Flora giving her estate to Sebastian. Samantha had only been living with Goran for more than a year, but she felt like she knew him better than anyone in Starkhaven. Truthfully, she didn't know what Goran would do if Sebastian came blazing back into the city with an army at his back, as offensive as that notion was. Samantha hadn't told Goran of Sebastian's plans to return to Starkhaven. But, knowing how indecisive Sebastian was, she hoped that he would change his mind. Or at least, that enough time would pass for Goran to grow into the role of prince.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him.

"I'll send some of my advisors to Kirkwall." Goran set the letter down on the table.

A servant came in and poured steaming hot tea into their tiny porcelain cups.

Samantha couldn't figure out why Sebastian would listen to Goran's advisors. "To do what?"

"To help her get her estate back in order." Goran scowled into his teacup. "I should send another nurse, too."

"Oh! I thought you meant…" She lifted a tired hand to her forehead. "She'll appreciate that. Flora is an idiot with numbers."

He offered a small grin, but it didn't match his eyes, which were filling up with worry. "My uncle didn't want everyone to know, but it was just Lady Johane that was asked to leave Starkhaven – not her children. So…Flora can return."

Samantha watched him as he lifted his teacup to his mouth and she thought that he and Corbinian couldn't be any different. Corbinian never would have chased after a girl who showed no interest. Of course, no girl had ever said no to Corbinian Vael. Goran fumbled for the right words, had a hard time keeping eye contact, and regularly checked out of conversations, which made him look rather dense.

Goran was staring at the unfolded letter on the table when he said out of the clear blue sky, "You're my only friend, you know."

Samantha thought that was truly unfortunate, and she reached for his hand, finding his skin hot from the teacup.

"I would do anything I could if you needed it. That's what friends do." He pushed the edge of the letter around the table with his other hand. "Why is that such a disgusting thing from me?"

"It's not disgusting." And that was a fact.

"So what is wrong with me? Why am I now too good for her?" He seemed truly confused.

For the first time, Samantha felt strongly that Goran deserved better than Flora. He deserved a girl who liked him for him, flaws and all.

"That's not it," she said soothingly. "I don't mean for this to sound harsh, but this isn't about you. Flora feels ashamed. Her family…" Samantha felt a little lightheaded at the words. "…killed your family. She feels tremendous guilt over that, even if she had no knowledge of it."

"So, what?"

"Goran." Now she felt he was being willfully thick. "Surely you can see how that presents a bit of a problem with a match."

"No." He shook his head. "It changes nothing. She was as much a victim as me."

Samantha wrinkled her nose. "Many others won't see it that way."

"Who cares what they think?" He said defiantly.

"You're the prince now," she said gently, but there was no gentle way to say this. "You can't marry the daughter of your parent's murderer." But when Goran began to protest, she interjected. "Goran, you said it yourself – the prince's seat has to mean something. It's more than just… decisions and politics. You have to be more than just a man. You have to be an ideal."

"I don't want to be an ideal!" He blurted, but then seemed to realize that his words were naïve, because he laid his head down on the table. "Maker… how did things get so messed up?"

Samantha laid her hand on his shoulder in comfort, and a few moment passed before she said, "I was going to visit the Chantry today. Light a candle for Flora. Want to come?"

"I can't." He turned to look at her and the sunlight caught his hair. He was so striking, so different than all the other Vaels. So much like his mother. Aside from Lady Pentaghast, Samantha wondered what that side of the family looked like. "I have a planning meeting for the new Circle. Construction starts in a few days and everyone wants to go over the plans again. Raddick keeps trying to make his office bigger."

Samantha couldn't help giggling; the low-stakes arguments that dominated office politics were ridiculous.

"Oh sure." He lifted his brows in amusement. "Go ahead and laugh. My pain is your pleasure." But it was short-lived as his gaze turned back to the unfolded letter. Goran leaned against her a little before he stood up. "I'll see you for dinner."

She watched him go but her heart sank as the warmth went with him. Goran's hands and his eyes and his hair, the rhythm of his voice and the way he lifted his eyebrows when he was amused – he was Corbinian's brother, there was no doubt. But he wasn't Beenie.

Without really thinking about it, Samantha wandered over to the glass doors, pushing them open wide, and stepping onto the terrace. The stone flooring below her bare feet was just like the afternoon sunshine above her head, greeting her in a pleasantly warm embrace. She wished it could burn away the loneliness. Without a plan and without much thought, her feet carried her through the gardens, past the fountain, through the rose bushes and high hedges and past the gates into the training yard.

There were young men there, sparring with practice swords and they came to a halt when Samantha stepped against the fence. Their faces had no scars, their bodies displayed no bruises, and their armor had nary a scratch. They were just boys, playing at being warriors.

"Specialist Keis," one of the men said, sounding surprised, and Samantha looked behind her to see the tall woman leaning against the gate. Of course Keis was there – she was always there.

Keis nodded to the boy, but she said nothing. He exchanged a nervous glance with his sparring partner before they continued. Samantha watched them for a while, wishing that Corbinian would emerge from the smithy's hut, smiling, his tunic sticking to him and his hair standing up as he walked to the fence to greet her... as he had done a thousand times before.

Well, I don't think a bit of lace and a smile will work for him like it does for me.

Goran had asked the right question: how did things get so messed up? But there was no answer. It had been nearly three years since he had gone, and she had let Goran's willful disbelief that he was dead hang over her.

She looked down at the ring of diamonds of her finger and knew what she should do. Deep down inside, she knew she should let him go. Holding on to this kind of pain could fade even the brightest star, and Corbinian would never want her to wallow in despair. But that was the thing: he wasn't here to prevent it, and regardless of Goran's stubbornness, something inside her also refused to let go.

Samantha lived in a world where her moods could be outlined in tangible things; the bitterness that lay in earth beneath of her feet, the mourning in the setting sun over the gardens, the despondency in the air that brushed by her legs. With Goran, there was happiness and sadness, measured over breakfast and tea, dinner, and reading. With Keis, there was stillness and boredom, measured over the time between. With Flora's letters, there was despair. With Sebastian's letters, there was irritation and sympathy. Everything else was reserved for those moments when she would wait for Corbinian to come out of the smithy's hut.

But Corbinian wasn't going to emerge from the smithy's hut. He wasn't going to hug her at that fence. He wasn't going to kiss her on her windowsill and he wasn't going to make love to her in her bed.

Keis' hands appeared on her shoulders, guiding her away from the practice yard, because the boys had stopped sparring when she had started crying. After she had calmed down, Keis accompanied her to the Chantry where Samantha lit a candle for Flora, for Goran, for Sebastian, for Corbinian, and lastly for Keis – the only one out of all of them that kept her moving, literally.

As Samantha was kneeling in prayer by the candles, she felt a presence to her left. It was a young girl and her voice pitched high.

"Excuse me, messere," the girl said tentatively. "You are Samantha Mayweather, yes?"

Samantha lowered her hands and stood up smoothing over her long skirt. "Yes…?"

"Oh! Andraste's grace! I apologize for my forwardness!" The girl curtsied low, exaggerating her courtesies. "His Highness, Sebastian Vael, told me to seek you out. He said you would be kind to me!"

His Highness? Samantha glanced at Keis, who was staring at the girl intently. Was this another messenger? Taletha was still living in relative comfort in Goran's niece's old room, and no more letters had come. It had been half a year since she had heard from him. If this girl was a messenger, she was an odd choice. First of all, she looked to be barely in her bloom. Secondarily, her hands were weathered and her hair was coarse like straw, like a servant's. She was like a rug that needed the dirt shaken out.

"He described you quite well!" The girl's gaze danced over Samantha, who couldn't help wondering how Sebastian was describing her, because Taletha had said the same thing.

"Oh. Well..." Samantha felt a little awkward, because she didn't know how to talk to servants without issuing commands. "How do you do?"

"I am well, messere," the girl gushed. "I was so relieved when he came to me! He is so gentle!"

Sebastian? Gentle? Samantha tried to picture it.

"I thought I was going to wallow in that house forever, but he saved us! All of us!" The girl looked to Andraste's stone figure. "Thank the Maker for that."

"Yes..." Samantha felt terrible, because she knew she was being rude. "How is Sebastian?"

The girl seemed a little confused. "The last I saw him, he was recovering just fine from his injuries."

Samantha paused, glancing at Keis again, who glanced back. "Injuries…?"

"Yes! We all had to take time to recover." The girl sighed melodramatically. "That horrible man… I thought I would never escape him. But when I stepped into the sunlight, I knew that I was going to be fine. I knew the Maker would guide me to where I was most needed."

"Forgive me," Samantha interrupted politely. "I don't believe I have asked your name?"

The girl's eyes went wide, as though she had just been given some great gift. "I am Arielle!"

Samantha curtsied as custom. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Arielle. Perhaps you could tell me how you met Sebastian?"

"Oh!" She giggled ridiculously. "I'm so sorry! I thought he would have written to you… It doesn't matter. He rescued me – well, he and his group rescued the lot of us from Lord Harimann."

Samantha's fake smile faded, for the whole world blurred, leaving this filthy girl in its wake.

"The awful things he was going to do… that he did..." Arielle shuddered at the memory. "Thank the Maker for His Highness! I would surely have perished in that madhouse."

"Madhouse…?"

"It was like a spider's web. And we were the flies."

"Flies?" Samantha asked weakly.

"All of us. The other servants. Lady Flora – she got the worst of it!" Arielle's eyebrows stitched together in exaggerated concern. "Poor thing had headaches that drove her mad. The only relief she could get was from the drink. She was a very sick girl."

Samantha stepped closer. "And Ruxton?"

"The one with the beard? He was a sadist! Horrible!" Arielle's little face squished together. "The things he made the other girls do! I feel so fortunate that he never picked me."

You are a child.

But he had stopped. What if he hadn't? Had Ruxton stopped? What had he done?

Samantha closed her eyes and before she knew it, she felt Keis' hands planted firmly on her arms, guiding her to a pew. Arielle was by her side in an instant with a fan and there were a few sisters crouching nearby when she next opened her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, messere!" She heard Arielle cry.

"Quiet down." Keis snapped at the girl.

"What?" Samantha's eyes fluttered as she thought of Ruxton: the boy who couldn't look at a girl without blushing.

"Lady Samantha has had quite a day. She's going home now." Keis announced, lifting Samantha to her feet. "You okay to walk or do I need to carry you through Granite Circle?"

Samantha's eyes popped open, envisioning some public spectacle where Goran's personal guard carried her back to the palace, likely over her shoulder similar to how a servant would carry a sack of potatoes. What would the nobles say? She found her voice. "I can walk."

"I'm so sorry!" Arielle wailed as the sisters held her back.

Keis guided Samantha out of the chantry while the girl continued to blubber, unaware of the intensity of her cries and when the enormous doors shut behind them, Samantha breathed in the welcoming silence. The neighborhood was busy, and while she stood on the chantry steps trying not be to be dizzy, she caught sight of Arianna Marziano across the square giving her a polite wave. Their friendship had suffered in the year since her name day party, but Arianna was trying, at least. This was the first grudge that Samantha had ever held. It was at that moment that Samantha realized how petty the disagreements of nobility could be, and how much she missed her friend.

"What was that?" Keis asked, referring to Samantha's near-fainting spell, but her voice was devoid of sentiment, as if she were asking a question for the records.

"Nothing," Samantha answered quickly.

"You stumbled." She didn't sound convinced. "You nearly fainted."

"I don't recall fainting," Samantha answered blithely.

"People who faint usually don't."

"Yes, but I have a good memory."

Keis sighed loudly, but didn't speak about it again. Samantha was sure she would tell Goran when they returned to the palace, but they were greeted by a squire in the main lobby who instructed them to head to the Second Sitting Room where His Royal Highness was waiting.

Without hesitation, Keis walked ahead of her and Samantha dutifully followed in her shadow as was her occupation these days. Goran was settled down on a sofa looking out a nearby window. It was a big room, filled with plush chairs and small tables. This room was where letters were written, and cards were played; an empty room that was supposed to be filled with ladies and conversation, instead populated by warm rugs and light curtains with candles in every corner. There was an enormous portrait of one of the Vael women, and Goran thought it was Meghan, but he couldn't keep all the names and portraits straight either.

The prince of Starkhaven didn't stand up as they entered, but when he turned to them, Samantha could see the wetness in his eyes. He was holding a small box, a piece of parchment, and a length of string that dangled loosely from his fingers. At first, Samantha thought it was some kind of memento box but, when she saw the writing, she knew it had come in the post and the parchment was a letter.

"I…" Goran's started to laugh. Or cry. Or both. Samantha couldn't tell.

"What is it?" Samantha sat down next to him.

He sniffled, shaking his head.

"He's in shock." Keis quickly moved to him, removing the brittle paper from his limp fingers.

Samantha touched his shoulder. "Goran? What's wrong?"

"The letter," he said, bringing a hand to his face, clearly trying to calm down.

Keis looked down at the letter, and as if it contained some shock-inducing poison, she too had turned dumb. It was amazing that such a strong woman could look so stricken.

"For the love of Andraste!" Samantha reached out and snatched the parchment from Keis' hands.

But that was a mistake, because the letter described the contents of the box, and Samantha peered over Goran's arm to see what was inside. The familiar golden metal, the curve of the letters, the proud crest shining back out like a beacon. It was the Vael family crest. The initials C.A.V. were delicately etched into the golden metal. Inside the box was the armplate that had once been attached to the arm of Corbinian Alexsander Vael.

And at that, Samantha fainted dead away.