As much as I liked waking up being held by Isabella, the agony in my skull and the blacked out blur of the night before didn't make it seem worth it. Combining that with my early morning blood-magic ache didn't help at all, and it took me until the throbbing in my veins faded before I managed to actually get up. At least I managed to avoid throwing up, which apparently put me one up on Merrill from the complaints coming from across the hallway.

Isabella went straight back to sleep once I'd crawled out of her bed, tiredly mumbling something about talking to me later. I tucked her already snoring form back under the blankets, glad that we both had all of our clothes on. I spent a moment half-convinced I needed to ask her something, but my aching brain refused to tell me what the question was. Chalking that up to having way too much to drink the night before, I used her plank-and-bucket room before slipping out into the hall.

Once there I stumbled into Varric's suite to find him preparing to make one last attempt to change Bartrand's mind. He claimed to not need company, which probably meant he didn't want us hearing at him and his brother having another screaming match. Regardless of his reason, that left Merrill and I free to guzzle some water, eat a very light breakfast, and then shuffle our way back home in the mid-morning.

And so three weeks of preparations began, culminating in a series of meetings two days before our planned departure.

"All right." I'd set up a table under the Vhenadahl, sharing cups of annoyingly flavorless water with my two primary subordinates. All around people were giving the great tree a wide berth as they went about their days, clearly curious but desperately trying not look like they were eavesdropping.

"Zatris, is everything settled for the archers?" I asked.

He nodded once, reaching up to brush his blonde hair back from his eyes. "Everyone has two full quivers, and is keeping their daggers on them full time. Training is going well, everyone's about as good I could hope for, but I am getting worried about Fiolya's home life."

I let out a frustrated breath at the mention of the girl. And she was very much a girl, not a woman. She was sixteen for God's sake. I wasn't happy that she was in the Watch to begin with, but I couldn't really say anything given how shitty Kirkwall was for Elves. At least with a bow in her hands she'd have a chance to defend herself.

"I thought we shut down her parents at the last meeting." I drummed my fingers on the table, "When Elder Leras finally agreed that no one in the Watch is to be married without my permission first, and I told them to fuck the hell off when they asked."

Elowen's broad face split in a fond smile, "I still treasure the expressions they wore when you said that, my lady. That was a good day."

"You know I hate it when you call me that." I growled at her, fingers still tapping the wood. "It's just us sitting here, so stop it."

"Well you don't like 'Captain' either," She replied, "But I have to show you respect somehow."

"No, you don't." I countered. "I don't want the damned job. That's half the point of me leaving, so that you two can finally realize one of you should take over permanently."

Elowen narrowed her eyes at me. "Yes, I do need to respect you, because everyone knows that Zatris and I can't do most of what you do. If we could have, we'd have done it before you showed up and threw a fit that no one was keeping watch on our side of the walls. We couldn't have just randomly started bringing arm fulls of weapons here and giving them away, either."

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to react. This wasn't the time to have an argument about this. Not out in the open. "We'll agree to disagree, and have another discussion about this when I get back."

The bigger woman huffed while Zatris rolled his eyes.

Fingernails scratched at the table before I forced my hand to relax. "Fiolya?"

"Hm? Oh, yes." He nodded once. "She had a public row with her parents while you were out last night. She joined the other archers in copying your haircut. You can guess how they reacted when she got home."

That drew out yet another noise of frustration from me. Very much against my personal desires, the 'horse-mane' haircut was quickly becoming the de-facto uniform for the Night's Watch, at least among the younger members. The men among them were going for more of a mohawk look, while the women were leaving their strip very long, but shaving the sides of their heads was apparently the new 'thing'.

I'd thought it funny, at first, if only because I hated the style that everyone was copying. Then a few of their parents and grandparents had started growling at me for 'corrupting' the organization they had basically forced me to lead, and it had just become one more reminder about how I couldn't win in Thedas.

"Considering how much they hate me, it's an easy guess. How bad is that relationship now?" I asked.

"Broken. We need to get her out of their house sooner rather than later."

My index finger beat out a rapid beat on the table as I considered that. "Right. Tell the Elder that we're building a barracks when I get back, and I'm not accepting any more excuses from him on the subject. Not everyone in the Watch has to stay there, but it should be open for anyone from packed homes, or who can't stay at home like Fiolya. Elowen, do you have room in a bed for one more? Just for a few days."

Elowen nodded, "I can make the twins bunk together for a night or two."

"Good, She'll stay with you until I leave, then put her in my house. It'll be empty otherwise." I decided. "I'll see about getting a second hammock when we return, or see if she'll be all right sharing a bed with Merrill until we get things settled. Make sure the entire Watch keeps a close eye on her... and make sure she doesn't burn down my house either."

They both nodded, accepting that.

"Who else is unmarried? Just Tathon?" I asked while we were on the subject of the stupid marriage customs I was at war with.

"And Senvel." Zatris said.

"Both young men." I clicked my tongue, "Make sure they both know that my rule applies to them as well. They're not marrying any woman brought in from outside the city, no matter how much the Elders yell at them, or how badly they want to get their dicks wet. Not without dating them for at least a few months first. And under no circumstance are they being shipped off to another city against their will."

"And if they actually want to move away?" He asked.

I shrugged, "Then we can't stop them, but they don't get to keep their armor or weapons when they go. We can't afford to lose the gear. Let them keep a dagger, I guess. Those are cheap enough, but the rest of it stays."

Again they both nodded, leaving me to move on to my next question. "You've both talked to Thrask about the patrol schedule?"

"It's set, my lady." Elowen replied, completely ignoring the irritable sound I made at the honorific. "We've got enough members now that we can do a good rotation every evening. We'll check the interior walls and sewer access while the Templars keep watch over the main gate. Once archer will be on duty at all times to back them up there."

"Good. Any rumors to give them on mages we could safely turn in?"

Elowen shook her head, but Zatris made a 'maybe' gesture with one hand. "Not sure, my lady. There's always rumors down by the docks, but it's hard to pick out if they're just the Mage Underground smuggling people out, or if they're actually dangerous."

It was going to be difficult to tell the difference between the two, but it was a difference we'd have to recognize. I may have been a bit of a fence-sitter when it came to the Templar and Mage arguments, but I definitely leaned more toward the Mages' opinions. Especially in Kirkwall, where they were kept in a literal prison.

I wasn't about to turn any of them over to Meredith, not unless I knew they deserved it. Fortunately Kirkwall was, well, Kirkwall. If even half of the secondary quests in the game turned out to be real events, there'd be plenty of Tevinter slavers, insane blood mages, and abominations that we could dump off to earn points with the Templar's madwoman of a leader.

"Keep your eyes open." I said firmly. "And talk to the people who work the stables near the gates, or anyone who hears rumors from outside of town. If anyone goes missing, anyone, work with Thrask, Brennan, and Petrice to get them found as soon as possible."

Zatris huffed, "What is this new world we're living in, where I actually believe those shems will help us?"

"A world," Elowen grinned, "Where Lady Maeve screamed at them until they got off their asses and realized we're people. That's why she's our leader."

I gave her a sour look but refused to be baited into an argument. Proof that I could, in fact, control my mouth once in a while. "Any last minute supplies that either of you need?"

She shrugged. "Nothing out of the ordinary, my lady. We always need better arms and armor, and more potions."

"I know, I know." I sighed. "You can have most of my stock, and I'm going to go talk to Petrice right after this. Maybe she'll be willing to teach some of us how to bind and care for wounds. It won't be as nice as having potions, but it's a skill we really need to have people learn."

Zatris made an unhappy face at that. "I'm not sure I want her down here talking about her Maker more often than she already is, my lady."

A muscle in my cheek twitched. Petrice may have been, well, Petrice, but she was at least trying to help us. That put her above literally every other member of the Chantry in the city.

"Well unless you know someone else who can treat wounds without magic, you're going to have to put up with her. Don't bait her about her god, nod a lot when she rants about the Qunari, and maybe try to learn something."

He grunted as if I'd just poked him in the side, dipping his head and lowering his voice. "Speaking of her and the Qunari, my lady, you should know that there was a foreign elf through yesterday. I almost forgot after dealing with Fiolya's family."

"Foreign?" I asked. "Like, Orlesian?"

"I don't think so, he didn't have that weird accent. Sounded like a Marcher, but the way he spoke was... odd. Like those shems who try to pretend like they're dumb to mock us, except he wasn't doing it to mock us." His head shook as he frowned. "He said he just wanted to see the Vhenadahl, and be shown around."

That was definitely odd. "Did he have tattoos? Vallaslin?"

"No, bare faced. Not armed either, but he didn't walk like a servant. He was too calm, too confident."

"Well fed." Elowen muttered. "His cheeks were almost rounded out."

That certainly said something about him. "And you think he was a Qunari agent?"

It was his turn to shrug. "Maybe Petrice's preaching is getting to me, but it was the first thing that I thought of. He walked around a bit, asked people what it was like living here, if any homes were available. Didn't seem like he was in a hurry or worried about lodgings, which was also very strange. Senvel showed him around a bit, but he left before the ninth evening bell."

Right before Merrill and I came home from our usual night out. Interesting timing. Could be a coincidence, but I doubted it. Which meant there might be a Qunari agent or sympathizer keeping track of where I was.

That was both paranoid and egotistical of me, I supposed, but whether I liked it or not I was apparently an important person in the Alienage. If the Qunari were looking for easy recruits among the elves, I'd be a target for either recruitment or elimination. Especially if someone in the Alienage was already talking to the bastards.

"If he comes back while I'm gone, or if there's anyone else like him that show up, I want them questioned. If he really is Qunari, tell him to fuck off. We're not going to end up being their slaves anymore than we're going to let the 'Vints collar us." I told them. "And... when Petrice is giving her sermons, keep an eye on everyone who's listening."

Elowen's face pulled into a frown. "You think there's really members of the People who already went to the Qunari?"

"It's a worry. I don't want to accuse anyone, or spy on our own, but..." I blew out a tired breath. "The Qunari don't fight fair."

"You're assuming they're already fighting us." She replied.

"I am. They're not our friends anymore than the local nobility are." I shook my head. "I don't share Petrice's zealotry for her Maker, but we're in complete agreement about the Qunari. Listen to her when she talks about them. They're sitting around peacefully for now, but they could attack the city at the slightest provocation."

Zatris took a deep breath, then let it out. "If that happens, my lady, what do we do?"

"The Qunari go after leaders first." I told them, "That means the Viscount, Grand Cleric, and Meredith. Barricade yourselves in the Alienage, lock the gates down, and don't engage unless attacked. Hold out until the Templars get their asses out of the Gallows with battle-mages and push them back. Don't go out unless Meredith herself shows up to order you to fight."

"And if the Qunari win?" He asked.

"Surrender." I told him bluntly. "Thirty of you aren't beating several hundred Qunari. If you can, get the children out of the city by way of Darktown so they don't grow up under the Qun. But don't throw your lives away fighting."

They both glanced at each other, Elowen clearing her throat. "You think there'll be fighting while you're gone, lady?"

"No," I admitted, we had a few years. Maybe a bit longer, since the Deep Roads expedition was definitely happening earlier than it had in canon. Or maybe shorter, since canon was already breaking apart before my eyes.

"But I'm pretty sure the Qunari will attack the city eventually. Kirkwall is everything they hate about the rest of the world. The Viscount should have fought them at the gates, not let them in. We've got a few years, at most, before a fight starts one way or another."

She blinked once. "Shouldn't they have left before then?"

I snorted. "Elowen, I've seen their compound. They didn't build that as a temporary shelter, that's a full military outpost. Even if a ship comes, it's just coming with supplies and more soldiers. They're not going anywhere without a fight. Maybe the Arishok will go back home, but he'd only depart after claiming the city for the Qun."

The leader of the Shield-wall grimaced. "Oh. I think we should step up recruiting then."

"That's a good idea." I nodded, "We're about out of good weapons though. Do what you can there and I'll see about buying freshly forged ones when I get back with some real money."

Her voice lowered. "Do we go above fifty?"

"You think we will?"

"People have hope for the first time in a while." She paused, then added even more quietly. "And more fear. Everyone knows we're one bad day from a mob descending on the gates. That was true before, but now we've got the hope of being able to fight back and not get hanged for it after. People want to fight, not hide and hope their neighbors are the ones dragged out for sport."

I glanced at Zatris. "What do you think?"

"I think we could get up to a hundred pretty easily. Maybe even two hundred." He replied in a murmur. "Arms will be a problem though."

I licked my lips, then twitched my chin in a quick nod. "Let's do it, but keep it quiet from Thrask so he doesn't have to keep any more of our secrets than he already is. Train them on sticks instead of spears, we'll give them the old ones once we buy better equipment. We'll tell everyone we're tossing out the junk but stockpile it for the... call them the militia."

"How many?" He asked.

"Fifty more for now, let's not be too ambitious."

Zatris nodded thoughtfully. "What if we had Sister Petrice train the extra volunteers in healing? Then we could justify training them to defend themselves, without counting them in our official numbers."

I snapped my fingers, pointing at him. "Good idea. See? You can work just fine without me."

Elowen rolled her eyes while Zatris snorted, nodding over my shoulder. "One thing we can't do without you is deal with the Sister in question. Have fun, my lady."

Turning around, I fought down a sigh at the sight of Petrice coming down the stairs. Her usual scowl was firmly in place, and only grew more severe as she stalked across the square to approach us.

"Hey Petrice." I pushed myself to my feet, sure that I knew what this was going to be about. This would be the third time she'd tried to talk me out of going since I'd broken the news to her, and it probably wouldn't be the last time either.

"Lady Maeve." She replied stiffly. "May I speak with you in private?"

"Yeah, sure. Zatris? Merrill's helping replace the water filters at the wells, tell her I'm meeting with Petrice please."

He gave me a nod and a wave, leaving me to escort the Sister back to my home. Despite her annoyance she paused long enough for me to catch up, offering me an arm as always. I accepted it, resting mine through the crook of hers as we walked the short distance to my door.

Petrice waited until I'd closed the door behind us before tearing into me. "You cannot possibly be going through with this foolishness."

"...nice to see you too." I turned, crossing my arms as I faced her down. "You've known I was going for nearly three weeks. I know you know, because we've already had this conversation twice. Is it really so hard for you to understand that I have to do this?"

"Yes! I refuse to believe that an otherwise intelligent woman would do something so... so... monumentally stupid." She spat. "Greed is a sin in the eyes of the Maker, and even if it were not, doing something this foolish surely would be!"

I clenched my jaw, throttling my first response, and only barely managing to sound civil on my second. "You know damned well that I'm not doing this out of greed."

She stared down her nose at me, abusing her height advantage.

"Fuck off." It was my turn to snap. "Yes, it's a gamble, and I put a lot of money into helping pay for this, but the chance of treasure is secondary. If Varric wasn't going down there I wouldn't go near those fucking tunnels and you know it. I'm going to keep my friend safe."

"And am I not a friend?" Petrice countered.

"...you are." I allowed, surprising myself a little by admitting it. In spite of her being, well, Petrice, I could admit to actually enjoying her company. Most days.

When she wasn't hounding me about my personal faith, or my decision to go with on the expedition.

"Then stay. I need your help here, the Alienage needs its guardian. Your subordinates aren't ready to stand without you, and this city needs people wise enough to understand where the true dangers lay." She shook her head. "We need you alive and here, not lost forever in the endless dark."

I fought down the urge to sigh. I preferred her anger, it let me get angry back at her. The guilt trips were harder to talk my way out of without feeling, well, guilty. "Look. We're making this as safe as possible. I'll be gone for a couple of months at the absolute most."

Her pert nose flared with a tight inhalation. "Maeve, you are not from these lands, so I do not expect you to understand. The Deep Roads are not to be trifled with. No one who goes into those tunnels emerges unchanged, assuming they do not find themselves before the Maker himself!"

I threw my hands up, "I know it's dangerous. I'm not an idiot."

"You are acting like one." She growled. "I thought you were smarter than this! The Deep Roads are a death sentence to all who dare risk them!"

I heard my own voice take an edge once again as well, "I know it's dangerous. We've put together a good company, we're not relying on Bartrand's cheap help. We'll get in, get out at speed. We're not going to wander around looking for loose coins on the floor."

Her eyes narrowed. "Did you get the Darktown mage to agree?"

"Yes, he'll be with as our dedicated healer."

Petrice worked her jaw for a long moment, exhaling. "That... helps, somewhat, but please, Maeve. Reconsider this path. You are gambling with your life, and the lives of everyone here who will be hurt by your loss."

I took a deep breath, then let it out. "Petrice. I will be all right."

"You cannot promise that." Her shoulders slumped, head shaking in defeat. "We both know you cannot. Please, Maeve. Don't do this."

"I have to." I told her, finally finding my gentler tones. "I can't let my friend go down there alone."

Her eyes closed, fists clenching for a moment before she seemed to go limp. A tired shake of her head came with words, "Of course you must. The chance of wealth is nothing against what you do for your friends, is it not?"

"I'll do a lot for my friends. I don't especially want to go down into those tunnels, don't get me wrong. Not even for Varric. But... I think the odds are better than they'll ever be right now, and it's chance to solve several problems I'm having."

The Sister shook her head, then turned and padded over to one of my chairs. I followed, taking the one across from her as we both sat down. Petrice sat there in silence for a long moment, half-slumped, then she sighed and faced me properly.

"The Grand Cleric will not soon forget your name, simply because you leave for a time." She said. "Neither will the Knight-Commander. You have already drawn their attention, and it will not be so easy to become another nameless elf. Returning alive at all will draw their notice once more. Returning with wealth and riches will ensure they will never forget your name or your face."

"...I hate that you already know me well enough to say that." I muttered, reaching up to tiredly rub at my face. "Am I that easy to figure out?"

The briefest smile came and went, "At times."

I let my hands fall, leaning back in my seat. "You have another lecture lined up?"

"The same one I began previously. The lure of gold is worth no lives. Greed may be falsely considered a lesser sin by many, but it remains a sin in before the Maker."

"It's not greed for myself, you know that. If we find anything at all I'm going to be investing it in other projects."

Her lips turned down again. "Your Ferelden trip?"

"Potentially." I hedged, "But most are more local, and I might need your help with a few of them. I was going to go up to the Chantry and talk to you if you hadn't come down. For starters, we need someone to help teach us medicine, how to tend to battlefield wounds without magic."

She pursed her lips, "I see. And you wish me to do this?"

"Of course."

"And you thought I would, simply because you asked?"

I eyed her for a moment, then my lips curled. "The chance to remind everyone that the wise in the Chantry know plenty of medical skills of their own? That the Qunari don't have a monopoly on that? With a side chance of converting a few more Elven souls along the way? And the fact that a friend is asking?"

Petrice hummed. "A tempting offer indeed, though not well delivered."

I pulled my hands up below my chin, fluttering my eyelashes at her, and putting on my best little-girl voice. "Please, Sister Petrice, teach us poor Elves how to heal our little bruises?"

She tried, valiantly, not to laugh, but the strangled snort that got out broke open the floodgates. The cackles made me smirk as she tried to get herself back under control. "By the Maker, Maeve. Never do that again."

"Will you though?"

"Of course." She shook her head, still smiling. "As you said, I could hardly pass such an opportunity by. I trust that is not one of your 'projects', however."

"A minor one only. The rest... I'll tell you the rest when I get back. I'm still working on the details in my head. None are sinful, and a few might help with the Qunari problem."

"I shall await your return most eagerly then." Petrice tapped a finger on the table, hesitated, then asked. "I would ask a small boon, if I may."

When I merely nodded for her to go one, she asked, "The morning you depart, I would ask that you allow me to meet you at the gates so that we might pray to the Maker together."

"Sure." I said at once. That was a tiny ask, all things considered. Not that I really wanted to pray to the Maker as she did, but I could put up with it if it meant her support in other things. And a stop to her coming around and harassing me about going on the expedition.

"Uh, you know my prayers aren't going to be very orthodox though, right?"

"I shall try to contain my surprise." It was my turn to snort at her dry tones, and her turn to smile. "Your faith my not be orthodox, but I do not doubt that you walk with one foot in the light of the Maker, following the path of Andraste. I will guide you to take that second step, by those same methods you bid me take with your fellow Elves if I must."

I bit my lip for a long moment, then cautiously spoke. "...I'm still surprised you don't think I'm a screaming heretic."

She waved a hand impatiently. "You may call him 'God' instead of the 'Maker', but I have seen you murmur your prayers when you think no one is watching. I know that you believe, in your heart. More than that, your faith may be different to mine, but... in truth I find it relieving to know that even in lands that Andraste never dreamed of, the Maker still found a way to light the path for you to follow. That his voice still reached you, regardless of the fact that you are Elven."

It was her turn to think for a moment, before going on more quietly. "It is proof that he truly does care for us, in spite of everything. That he has tried to guide us all to his warmth, in more than one way. More than that, I know that he spoke through you that day, to reveal to me the depths of evil in this world. Against such vileness as the Qun, I will always stand beside you, no matter how unorthodox your faith."

"Petrice," I said, taking care to interrupt before she could keep going, as I always did when she started getting a little too close to my limited belief in a higher power. To the fact that my habitual references to God in my language was more a factor of the culture I'd grown up in, rather than actual faith. "You're giving me a sermon. Again."

She blinked, cheeks coloring. "It is the truth!"

"And it's very flattering, I suppose." I replied, smiling, "But you were about to start ranting about the Qunari when you know I already agree with you."

The color on her face darkened further in embarrassment. "I... perhaps I was. My apologies. Ahem, ah, was there any other requests you had of me before you depart?"

"Be careful." I told her.

"...why?"

I relayed Zatris' worry about the man who'd come around the Alienage yesterday. "If I'm just not being paranoid, and he really is a Qunari agent, then we're only barely ahead of them. They might try to eliminate you if they perceive you as a threat. God knows how many spies they had in the city even before the Arishok arrived."

Her trademark scowl returned. "I am certain they had many. Don't worry about my safety, you need to be focused on your own."

"Petrice."

"I will be careful. I have begun to consider precautions in that regard." She promised, "But the Maker guides those who are best prepared for their path. You should be focused on your own preparations."

I shrugged. "We're mostly ready, to be honest. Just some final planning meetings and packing sessions."

She nodded. "Then are you free tomorrow?"

"I've got a few final errands to run for Varric," I replied. "And we've got a working lunch planned to go over our route. I'm a little more free the day before we leave though."

Petrice smiled, "Then would you honor me with another luncheon? I would like your opinion on my next sermon, and perhaps a few plans I may put into motion while you are gone. I would have brought my papers today, but I have to return soon to attend to the Grand Cleric."

Plans... let's hope it didn't involve more of the crap she'd gotten up to in the games. I'd already talked her down from some of those, but it always left me nervous trying to use logic to blunt her zeal. "I'd be happy to. I might have a plan of my own, some scouting that can be done to prepare for later action against the Qunari. I'll get you the details then."

We both rose by silent agreement, Petrice allowing me to walk her the short distance to the door. She held a hand out, chuckling when I rolled my eyes.

"Do you tire of our game already?" She asked.

"No." I tried not to flush, bringing my hand up. "I'm just... I'm still not used to it yet."

Her fingers gently wrapped around mine, bringing my knuckles to her lips. She kissed them softly, then upped the ante by turning my hand over and putting a second, much less chaste kiss on the pulse in my wrist. Normally harsh features were softened by the pink her in cheeks when she rose, an almost embarrassed smile on her lips. "I trust it remains suitably flattering, my lady."

"...y-yes." And God dammit why did I stutter!? This was Petrice. I'd been completely honest with Merrill, she wasn't even close to my type when it came to her personality, or even her looks. Usually. She was kind of adorable when she flushed, when her constant scowl vanished and an almost teenage nervousness appeared. It... oh no. I was not doing this. I was not doing this.

"Very flattering. Very not used to it." I mumbled, not looking anywhere near her eyes. "We don't do that kind of thing back home."

"That is a great shame. A woman as wise as yourself deserves nothing less." My groaning whine only made her laugh, a hand patting my shoulder once. "You are adorable, my lady. I... please, Maeve. Come home alive. I meant my words. You have become the first dear friend I have had in some time."

"I will."