WARNING: There are some parts that discuss working at the Pearl. This might be a difficult topic for some, please keep that in mind. It is made clear that all involved are of "legal age" for Thedas.

It was suggested that my original Chapter 2 was too long. I agree and have decided to break it into two; to replace the material, I removed due to the previous length. But in doing so, it returned to the original length! I wrestled with this but decided to go ahead; I thought it was worth it and added some color to the story. To avoid TLDR I decided to divide the chapters into sections and publish them that way. There will be three sections of chapter 2. Depending on how that goes, I will continue the practice.

Temple of Sacred Ashes - Paths Cross

A Short Journey Feels So Long

Serrada was simply delaying the inevitable. She had already made arrangements for her little group to stay within the walls of Haven. She alone was left in Haven now; having just arranged stables, a task she should have told Lian to do; after all, tending the horses was the reason he was here. She could not help but smile; she was only a few years older than the boy, but he was frantic at the prospect of seeing mages and Templars; he was most enthusiastic about seeing 'real live Qunari!' Lian spoke for hours on horseback, to the point that the guards were taking bets; Serrada had won two gold and lost five silver. Lian seemed to have read and memorized every single book in Ostwick, from the geography of Thedas to its flora and fauna. Lian had given a long lecture on the Qunari spanning every single story fanciful or otherwise from book or bard that the boy had discovered, including vividly recited excerpts from the fanciful book about the Champion of Kirkwall by Varric Tethris.

Finally, his exuberant enthusiasm wore her patience thin, Serrada pressed a few pennies into his hand to buy a little peace. She told him to stay out of trouble and watched him run up toward the Temple at the top of the hill, the rest of her entourage laughing and calling after the boy as they trudged up the long climb more sedately than his energetic bounds.

She looked up toward the Temple out of site well above her; she had heard it was beautiful and imposing. It was also likely to be the end of her journey and the beginning of another. She had no real idea what would be demanded of her, would the Templars claim her? No warrior she, nor had she spent a great deal of time in the study of theology. She had never thought of herself as particularly devout. Serrada believed as much as she was able. When Lian was asleep, Serrada had taken the opportunity to befriend the Sister that traveled with them. She was thankful she did, for Sister Amalia had lived a life that Serrada had only read.

Serrada found that Sister Amalia was quite willing to discuss the generalities of Chantry life, but not her own experiences or any of the ugly side. Not until one night after their voyage across the Waking Sea in a dirty little inn on the Storm Coast, aided by a mug of particularly strong ale. Luckily, the men were occupied singing and keeping Lian away from the younger 'waitresses.' Sister Amalia was feeling lonely and willing to share her own story.

Amalia had joined the Chantry after her only surviving parent, her father, had died in the battle of Denerim at the end of the Fifth Blight. Serrada was stunned to discover that Amalia had not only met the Hero but been saved by her personally.

"I was foolish. Our poor little village…" so many years later it was hard to talk about, Serrada could almost feel the pain in the young woman's voice, "Honnleath had been attacked by dark spawn early in the Blight. Most of our villagers died before we even knew we were in danger." Even ten years later, her eyes shown bright with tears for those lives lost. "I panicked and ran down the hall into my grandfather's private laboratory. A man died trying to save me." She had choked on those words. "My grandfather's wards were powerful; only one of my family could enter safely."

Serrada had read accounts of the attack on Honnleath, but they were vague at best. There were few survivors, and she did not recall any of them being named in the accounts.

Amalia spoke of her shame, and she could not meet Serrada's eyes. She had been a young girl at the time of the dark spawn raid. Although not a mage herself, Amalia had some experience with magic; her father, Matthias, was an apostate mage, son of Wilhelm, the court mage of King Maric of Ferelden. However, Matthias had only enough talent to activate his father's wards, perhaps light a campfire, but little else.

"How could I have been so stupid! That room had been locked for years, there were cobwebs on everything, including the door, but no, I just took it at face value." Amalia was rolling on with her story, a landslide of self-recrimination, a well-trod path of constant silent repetition " 'Sure Amalia, who wouldn't expect a talking cat in an abandoned dungeon.' But I didn't care, I just needed comfort, I was so scared." Amalia carried on her story until the end, where the Hero had outsmarted the demon and saved her. She then told how Leliana had swept Amalia up in her arms and ran back to the girl's father, evading the remaining traps and demon attacks or ignoring the pain they caused by either - the rest of the party following close behind. Strangely, even with the efforts of the Hero on her behalf, it was Leliana who had Amalia's heart. "Sister Leliana was so gentle and kind; she protected me from the demons while she ran with me. She did not even try to defend herself, only me. She still has some of the scars … " Amalia's voice trailed off as if she suddenly remembered where she was and whom she was confiding in. "I am sorry, I just ramble on and on." Again she faltered, "It is so enjoyable to speak with someone closer to my age; most of the sisters are so much older than I. You are lovely, and traveling with you has been very enjoyable. I do hope you become a Sister. I do know that it was not your dream, but" taking Serrada's hand, "it is not as lonely as you might think. There are other boons and benefits. You can help people in so many ways. Try and remember that, besides, there are scholars in the Chantry, perhaps you can be assigned to Orlais as a scholar and study there?"

The next morning Amalia seemed to be suffering from the common affliction of too much ale and not enough sleep. She was circumspect after that, she was willing to chat, of course, but no longer discussions, she no longer as open and forthcoming as that night. Further, she took an oath of sobriety.

Serrada had been wondering where Sister Amalia had gone; she had not noticed her going with the rest of the group toward the Temple. She thought she caught a glimpse of Amalia going into the tavern, but that did not make sense, given that the leaders of the Chantry were up at the Temple, not to mention her sobriety oath. Indeed, if Serrada's suspicions about Sister Amalia were correct, the Left Hand would be at the Temple. Well, it was as good a place to go as she had completed all her 'tasks.'

Serrada walked gingerly to the Haven Chantry for a last look around; she knew she was stalling now. She was also somehow sure that regardless of how this day turned out, whether a Templar recruit or a Chantry novice, she would never look at the world the same way again.

Still, at this moment, it struck her strange yet again that the organizers of the Conclave had found it necessary to erect rather extensive defenses. The village itself was in a stockade at the center of two concentric palisades. The Conclave was intended to be a place of peaceful meeting. One would think that the palisades would undermine the intent, she wondered if there was a great deal more going on here than anyone suspected.

These efforts, and the beginnings of what looked to her to be new firing points for siege engines, meant Haven's wolves must be truly fierce?

There was no point in delaying any longer; she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and began the longest portion of the journey—the climb to the Conclave and her obligations.

Debts Partial Payment

The Singing Maiden was quiet now, just past two bells and mid-day meal was all done but the washing up. It was still a bit early for the regulars, people who seemed to always find their way into a tavern, even in the most remote locations. Flissa was cleaning again; she had dreams in which she was cleaning, where she was cleaning did not matter; cleaning was cleaning. Well, that is not correct; cleaning the Pearl was much more interesting and vastly more disgusting. Vomit was no pleasure to clean, but it was absolutely not the most disgusting thing that bodies can produce.

The back door opened quietly, Flissa turned to tell the interloper that she was closed till six bells, but the words did not come. The cloaked intruder had their back to her, peering through the crack between the nearly closed door and the door jam. Flissa noted the cloak clung nicely to the figure, at first Flissa thought that her time might be at an end. Her hands gripped the broom handle tightly. Why would someone enter a tavern so stealthily unless it was to avoid someone outside or confront someone inside? For a moment, Flissa wondered if her sordid past or assistance to Leliana would cost her everything. As the door closed, a small breath of air gently raised a corner of the cloak, and a flash of white could be seen. The figure closed the door, locking it, Flissa's heart began to pound, her fingers now turned white on the handle of her broom. The figure turned, as she did so, she lowered her hood, and the smiling face was revealed.

"Amalia!" Flissa screamed, jumped onto the table, and leaped to the next, finally dropping in front of the woman, throwing herself against her, arms encircling the body that had terrified her moments before. The momentum of both bodies colliding drove each other into the door.

"Amalia! Amalia! When did you get here? Where have you been?" A thousand questions thrown at the smiling woman from who she was crushing the breath.

"Flissa! Please, I can't breathe." Amalia was so pleased to see her friend and lover. "Please let me breathe!" The last was only a whisper.

Slowly, Flissa released her grip but did not open any space between them. Amalia's face was only fractions of an inch from her own. "Amalia…", Flissa pulled Amalia to her, lips met lips, not a soft, quiet touch, but an ardent lingering embrace of a desire long denied. Moments passed in that embrace, moments that seemed ages until Amalia broke the kiss.

"Flissa, I missed you so much, but we don't have much time. Please, we need to talk", Amalia's cheeks turned red, "then we can go find somewhere private."

"Yes, we have much to speak about girls." Both women jumped at the soft Orlesian accent from behind them. Neither of them heard the woman who had entered through the main door. Sister Nightingale was silent and invisible when she wanted to be, both had known this years ago, but her skills had only improved over her time as the Left Hand.

It was Amalia's turn to run to another woman; she was silent herself as she rushed to the waiting arms. Flissa looked dejected as she stood abandoned and forgotten by the door, Leliana's eyes turned on her, and her left hand reached out to her, even as her right one drew the hug from Amalia even closer. Flissa hurried to the open arm, embracing both women as tightly as she had Amalia alone.

"Be at ease, Flissa, you are as strong as always, but my ribs are not as strong as your arms." The tone of her voice was not reproachful but was affectionate.

"Amalia, I must speak with you. I am sorry, Flissa, but you understand. No?" Without waiting for a reply, Leliana drew Amalia across the tavern to sit by the fire. Flissa felt left out; she knew better than interfering. Sister Leliana would teach you not to interfere if she asked for privacy. With a smile, she thought back to the story that Amalia had told her long ago about Leliana's teaching lessons as they cuddled after their rescue.

The Blight had orphaned poor Amalia. She had been saved by the Hero and Leliana personally at her home village of Honnleath, which is now gone. Like herself, Amalia had lost everyone, but unlike her, Amalia had caught the interest of the Hero and Sister Nightingale. Some would have been jealous, but Flissa was not one of them.

After the battle of Denerim, Amalia was told that her father, Matthias, had died. It was not surprising given the amount of death that had occurred, but it was how Matthias died that made him a hero in his own right. He had saved the life of King Alistair in the Battle of Denerim.

Flissa smiled to herself, remembering the cold winters day when a furious Leliana burst through the Pearl's door, accompanied by the Hero herself. The Lady Cousland had the bemused look of a mabari that got into the family's dinner. Leliana was furious but courteous with the Pearls owner; she demanded that Amalia's things be brought forward. She said that Amalia would be leaving with her.

Flissa blushed at the memory; she had heard the commotion while she was working with a customer. Upon hearing that Amalia was leaving, Flissa pushed the customer away and ran out to throw herself upon Leliana.

"Please, mistress, please don't take her from me! I will be alone, please!" Flissa begged and wept. It was only then that she realized that she was without a stitch.

"Amalia, please don't leave me." Tears were pouring from her like rain. "Please!" Flissa was near hysteria.

"Who is this child?" Leliana's voice was clear and firm, but Flissa saw compassion in those blue eyes.

"She is one of my girls; the daughter of a whore who worked here, she owes me for her room and board." It was clear Sanga was not happy with the situation, none of it. Sanga lifted the switch she used on both Flissa and Amalia. She had frequently complained that Amalia had ruined Flissa, Flissa had accepted her duties until Amalia came. Had she not given Flissa and her mother a roof over their heads? Had she not waited until both Flissa and Amalia were of proper age before having them genuinely earn their keep? Sanga brought the switch down against her leg. She was going to put the switch across Flissa's back when an iron grip encircled her wrist.

"Here is your payment." Leliana's grip was stronger than steel, and she knew exactly how to press; Sanga's hand opened, releasing the switch. "I have use of this. Pack these girls things." She pressed five gold sovereigns into Sanga's hand. "That should cover both their debts." She put five silvers besides. "This is for the switch."

Leliana spoke to Flissa, "Get dressed, girl, then return. Quickly now." She looked to Amalia, who was now approaching, a bouncer carrying her small trunk. Flissa ran to find a robe and returned. The customer whom she left was complaining loudly.

"Mistress Sanga, perhaps you should go and service your customer. While I speak with these girls." Leliana was adjusting her gloves.

"I own this place; I do not work here!" Sanga shouted, her voice full of condescension, disgust, and so much venom that it made the girls catch hold of each other for comfort, faces turned to the floor in shame and humiliation. Leliana could see the girls' reaction; there was a shift in Leliana's entire body, which was enough to drive Sanga to her knees. "Forgive me, my lady; I did not mean…."

The Hero must have sensed some imminent event; she moved toward Leliana and was about to speak when Leliana raised a gloved hand, which halted the approach. Then in a voice as cold and quiet as death. "I had simply meant that you should go deal with him. After all, he is your customer. Now, I insist that you do service him yourself, perhaps you will learn respect for what you demand of others." She brought the switch down across her palm. "Now!"

"I will do no such thing!" Lady Sanga stood up; her cheeks were scarlet with rage. "I am no whore; I buy and sell whores! Who…"? She never finished the rant.

In a swift movement that took Mistress Sanga entirely by surprise, Leliana twisted Sanga around with her left hand, and with her right, she deftly brought a small knife up and through the lacing and stays of Mistress Sanga's day gown. In two more simple and easy moves, faster than one might slit a throat, Mistress Sanga was standing in her shift. "Now, do not make me finish this. Go, do your duty." Turning away, preparing to address the girls, but said over her shoulder. "Mistress Sanga – now!"

Mistress Sanga did what she was told with several sniffles, shuffling toward the room's door, as if it were up the stairs of the scaffold. Once the door of the customer's room was closed and they had some privacy, for both those inside and without.

"Amalia, I am taking you to the Chantry. They will look after you." Leliana looked at Flissa again, who looked at Leliana like she was Andraste herself. "I asked your name, child."

"F..F..Flissa.", Flissa finally finished.

"She is my best friend, and she has always taken care of me." Amalia added, proud to hold her friend who was shaking like a leaf in a gale.

"How did you get here, child?" Leliana's heart went out to the girl, clearly she needed help.

"I have lived here since my mother died." Flissa looked around the group, then recognized the Hero. "My father was a merchant at Highever; Howe murdered him because he was loyal to your father. We lost everything, and Howe sold my mother to Sanga." She was too ashamed to admit that she had been hiding there when the Hero had visited the Pearl on business during the Blight.

It was now Lady Cousland's turn to be angry. "Will that bastards' crimes never end?" As frightening as Leliana was, the cold strength and fury of the Hero simply terrified Flissa. However, when she looked to Leliana for protection, the blue eyes were on the Hero, Flissa saw a look which reminded her of her mothers for her father, and she knew she was safe with both women. "Leliana, perhaps Bella could use some assistance. She is always complaining that she has no help, and Wardens Rest must be better than this place."

The sounds of Mistress Sanga working could be heard through the door; Lady Cousland blushed, "Perhaps we could discuss our future back at the palace. Remind me to speak to Alistair about the appropriate age and ensuring that all those who work in such places do so of their own free will."

"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Liliana's voice was full of love; then, it took a frosty tone. "I also plan to have a bit of a chat with the king and queen myself. Yes?"

"This is not going to be good." Lady Cousland shook her head slowly. "Go get dressed, girl, we can't be parading you around Denerim in your shift. I am going to have enough to deal with after Leliana's little conversation."

The girls left the Pearl for what both hoped was the last time.

The trip to the royal palace was – educational. Flissa and Amalia were always between the two women as they moved silently, seemingly invisibly, through the crowded streets of Denerim. The girls knew that they were with the two people who were only slightly less recognizable than the king and queen themselves and far more loved in many quarters. Amalia expected instant recognition of their protectors as soon as they stepped outside the Pearl, but it did not happen. Leliana led with Ellana behind the girls between them. Amalia noticed the way they moved together, always protecting the other's blind spots. No words, no sound at all, it was a dance they had practiced throughout Ferelden and beyond. As much as Amalia loved the Warden for what she had done for her, she marveled at Leliana. The woman moved like a cat; every action was fluid with no wasted effort, perfect in execution and beautiful to watch, no wonder the Warden had fallen in love with her; she thought she could herself.

'I wonder if she would teach me?' Amalia resolved to beg her to.

Flissa was just happy to be away from the Pearl.

Reaching the royal palace, Flissa was not allowed into the royal apartments with Amalia. Amalia cleaned herself and dressed in the first new clothing she could remember. Flissa was left alone to bathe and 'rest'; the first she was glad to do, the second was impossible while Amalia was away.

Her hand on the handle of the royal apartments' outer door, Ellana turned to her love. "Leliana, please promise me you won't kill them both." Leliana was slightly taller than the warden; there was more than a slight amount of pleading in her voice.

"Oh, darling." Leliana leaned in and kissed her spouse's forehead, "No promises."

Amalia accompanied Leliana, who wanted her nearby. Amalia had the privilege of overhearing the conversation, which was one of legend.

Lady Cousland did not get involved, choosing to munch on a roll rather than get between Leliana and her prey. She stood by to safeguard that Ferelden had a monarch at the end of the day. Whether both survived was still an open question, but she intended to ensure that at least one did.

"Alistair, I believe I asked you to take in Amalia, you remember her, no? The young girl we saved from the desire demon, in Honnleath, yes? You remember, the orphaned child of the man who not only led the charge against a dark spawn horde intent on turning your left flank but also saved the life of the Keeper Lanaya, which allowed you to forge the first Human-Dalish alliance since the March on the Dales?" Leliana's voice was starting to get a little strained. Ellana moved closer just in case; she really did prefer to have both sovereigns alive in the morning.

"Would you like to know where I found Amalia whom you pledged to raise and educate, as a promise to me?" The dagger in her hand seemed to dance and even sing as it twisted in Leliana's fingers faster and faster; it was hypnotic as the light glinted across its razor-sharp edges. "Well, would you?"

"I am not going to like this answer very, much am I?" Alistair probably could guess if he dared to, he didn't. He had grown up an orphan in the Chantry, and he knew that was much better than it was for other orphans. At that moment, his more significant concern was Leliana, and she was not happy with him. He had not forgotten where, and more importantly, how they had met Leliana, and that she was once a Chantry Sister; the discipline they taught was as sharp as the dagger she now twirled. "I was busy, and Anora said she would look after the child; besides, I don't know what to do with adult women, let alone young ones." Alistair still had not learned not to whine when conversing with women. Ellana wondered if Anora had discovered how to bring him to heel, without destroying his confidence. He was a good man and could be a great king with the proper nurturing.

"So, I should be speaking with the Lady of the house." The dagger shot across the room, directly through an apple perched atop a platter of food for Alistair's dinner, and into a portrait of queen Anora in her youth. The dagger impaled apple, now taking up the place of Queen Anora's visage. "I will leave you to your discussion. I think I will have a word with my Lady Anora." Leliana rose and move so quickly that she was out of the room in an instant.

Alistair stood as if he planned to stop her, but Ellana intercepted him. "Please don't get involved in this. It will only be painful for the both of you; remember, you made Leliana and I a promise. When Leliana found Amalia working at the Pearl …"

"Oh, dear Maker, you can't be serious!" Alistair fell back to his chair. His hands coming to his face, covering his eyes. "She will not kill Anora, will she? Maker knows I have had a difficult time with Anora, but she is with child, I think it is even mine." The question in his voice pained Ellana's heart. Alistair so wanted children; he had been tortured by Morigan's using him to conceive then disappearing altogether. It had caused him to effectively lock Anora in her room for months trying to conceive a child he could raise. Alistair had been a quick study by all accounts. Morrigan had apparently been a good tutor, and Anora had seemed very happy for months.

A commotion from down the hall indicated that Leliana had, at the very least, started her conversation with Anora. "Unhand me this instant! Who do you think you are questioning me in my own bed-chamber! I do not have to answer to you!" With that, a disheveled Anora came into Alistair's bed-chamber through the open door. "Are you going to allow this…this…"

"Wife of the Hero of Ferelden?" Alistair tried to give his wife room to extricate herself with some dignity. "The wife of the woman who kept your beautiful, little arse on the throne? As opposed to sending it to a cold, dark prison cell? Or perhaps selling it to Mistress Sanga?"

The mention of the name brought Queen Anora up short. "I…I…never told the waif to go to her. I gave her coin to start a life…"

"She was a child! She lost her father in defense of your capital city and the king himself!" Leliana's voice was low as a whisper until the last words. It cut through the room like an ogre driven battleax. "I will give you one chance to apologize to the child and retain your dignity."

"I will do no such thing!" She turned to Alistair. "Are you going to allow them to threaten your wife? The queen of your kingdom!" She took one step toward Alistair, and he, one toward her.

"Stay out of it, Alistair." Ellana's voice was quiet and warning. "You did not seem much the queen when you broke your word and sent a child away. Much like Alistair's sister was sent away after the death of their mother." Those words brought Alistair up short, and Anora's head snapped toward Ellana, her expression of defiance melted into one of shame, she turned back to her husband. Her face a portrait of guilt and sadness for what she had done.

Anora's realization and the looks that Alistair returned, Ellana recognized that Anora was now firmly in love with her Alistair. It made Ellana feel so much better for him, and worse in a way since it would be painful for him to watch Leliana teach a lesson.

"As much as it pains and shames me, I accept the Makers punishment at the hands of Sister Leliana." Her eyes dropped to the floor, her hands folded in front of her. "Lead me where you will, Sister."

Leliana's glance showed her surprise and compassion. "Your contrition speaks well of you, my queen. I ask you to apologize to an orphan of Ferelden who's only surviving parent died in the service of your throne. I then ask that you accept the punishment of a novice of the Chantry for theft." Queen Anora's slight gasp and defiant expression briefly made Ellana think she would renege, but Leliana carried on. "Theft of the safe harbor she was promised, theft of the education she was promised, theft of her belief that her sovereign would show compassion on those most in need as Andraste taught, and most grievous the theft of her innocence." Ellana sensed the pain in Leliana's voice; she could not help wondering if that pain was for Amalia or her memories.

The last took all remaining fight from Anora; she had always thought herself the benevolent ruler, shepherding Ferelden and its people to a better tomorrow, while Alistair valiantly fought its enemies both foreign and domestic. Leliana's words cut her more than her switch would, although, in Leliana's hands – it would be a close thing.

"Lead on, Sister, I will do as you say." Anora stood up straight with shoulders back; it reminded Ellana of Anora's father Loghain Mac Tir when he prepared himself for Ellana's final blow – seemingly ages ago.

"First, leave your dressing gown here. Novices to be punished are brought to the Holy Mothers' office in their shift. All here have seen the like, or less, one knows you better. Leave it here." Leliana's voice could have been shearing the fabric of her gown, for it fell to the floor as quickly.

Ellana breathed easier now, although, from outward appearance, you could not tell. Alistair watched, holding his breath as Leliana prepared to march his nearly naked wife from his presence.

Ellana quickly crossed the space and whispered in Leliana's ear, "She is with child."

Leliana nodded then walked Anora toward her apartments and her doom.

Outside Alistair saw a young girl wearing novice white, looking down at the floor. He thought he recognized her.

Ellana took this opportunity to return to her previous seat behind Alistair's desk and put her boots upon it; she took a glass of wine from the tray, leaning back in the oh so comfy chair. She then used her dagger to cut a slice of cheese, offering a glass to Alistair, who jumped as the sound of the switch and accompanying screams rolled their way from the queen's chambers. "Don't worry about Anora, Alistair. You should be far more worried about your own bum." Alistair's face drained of color.

Hours later, all this was relayed to Flissa, as they cuddled in Amalia's room at the palace, they spent the few days together before Flissa went to Red Cliff. Flissa was both terrified and exhilarated at the prospect of leaving Denerim.

She had wanted to return to Highever, but Ellana, Leliana, and Amalia had said it might hold too many bad memories. Ellana told her that she had returned only twice herself, her brothers' enthronement ceremony as Arl, then his wedding, she had intended to be married in the Cousland family chapel. However, Queen Anora urged King Alistair to prevail upon Ellana and Leliana to hold their wedding in the capital. It had been turned into a grand state affair, Anora thought it would show Ferelden was recovering from the Fifth Blight.

Years later, now wiping the bar in Haven at the Maiden, it all seemed at least an age since those innocent days. A similar time since Leliana had appeared at The Wardens Rest and asked Flissa if she wanted to run a place in Denerim. Bella was disappointed; the two had become close while Flissa was there; after all, Flissa was missing Amalia, and it was winter, and two made a bed warmer. Through tears, Flissa and Bella had parted. Now Flissa had her own place, such as it was, not like the Gnawed Noble, or even as rustic as Wardens Rest was, but it was hers, and she was trying to make it homey.

A place for the pilgrims, Templars, mages, Qunari, and the rest to come and sit, drink and talk to a sympathetic ear.