Chapter 3

The Herald was stable, already asleep by the time Solas had started to check her over. He made quick work of the wounds on her head and helped clean off her skin as Adan carefully slipped a draught down Elissa's throat to ensure she continued to sleep through the night. Solas had looked to the Spymaster with questions apparent on his face, but had enough sense to remain silent. He was wordlessly dismissed after Inquisition scouts arrived to move the unconscious woman back to her cabin.

Leliana quietly thanked Andraste that only the change of guards bore witness to the ordeal as they knew better than to spread that sort of gossip around camp. Picking up a wineskin she took a long swig and although she winced at the strength of it, she was grateful for the harsh warmth it pushed through her limbs. The chantry sister closed her eyes to walk through the steps that led them there. She looked like Elissa. Sounded like Elissa. Had memories only she would have... was that enough to say to the world that the Hero of Ferelden was reborn? She took another mouthful of the tart liquid before throwing the skin on her table, mussing up her scrolls as it landed with a dull thud.

A scroll rolled over to her foot and she was about to kick it to the back of her tent when she noticed it was the not one either she or her scouts had written on. Leliana bent over to pick it up and inspected it, her eyes widening in disbelief. She rushed back over to her table and held the paper to the light to ensure she wasn't imagining things or just seeing what she wanted to.

Written in neat, flowing script across the top of the page: 'Notes from Sister Leliana'.

Her mind drifted back to when Elissa had offered to scribe for her, the writing on the parchment was undoubtedly hers. She could recognise it anywhere. Elissa would often give her bits of paper or parchment that she had written on when she returned to camp. Leliana had loved that Elissa would jot down bits and pieces of their travels in order to remind her of something that happened whilst away on a quest, or something that one of their comrades had said to her that she thought was funny or somehow important to their journey. She fought back a grin at the memory of Elissa insisting that the recipe for Sten's favourite type of cookie had to be recorded in the annals of their history.

Writing however, could be forged. She knew this better than anyone, Maker's breath, she was excellent at doing it herself. Yet, she forced herself to recall the tiniest details of their night and she could easily see that Elissa had used her right hand to write, and the Elissa she had known was definitely right handed- and so are most people, including forgers. But it was not the writing, nor the fact that she wrote with her right hand that confirmed the Sister's belief; it was a small sketch in the upper right corner of the page. Small and inoffensive, no one would notice, but she did.

A perfectly drawn laurel wreath.

The Cousland heraldry.

Elissa's family crest, emblazoned upon the vellum.

It was insignificant, she could hear the others telling her she was clutching at straws at best, but to Sister Leliana, Spymaster of the Inquisition, she understood that even the slightest thing could make all the difference in the grand scheme of things. She neatly folded the document and tucked it securely away inside of her glove as she called in one of the guards near the Chantry.

"Wake up Seeker Cassandra and Commander Cullen, advise them that I am calling a meeting in the Chantry at once," Leliana instructed as she made her way there. She stopped quickly outside of the Ambassador's door and rapped twice with the back of her hand.

"Come in," Josephine called out immediately, obviously burning the midnight oil like her.

"No Josie, I've called a meeting. Please come into the map room, Cullen and Cassandra should not be long," she replied about to step away from the door before she heard a ruffle clothes and a soft crash. The door opened with an alarmed, slightly winded Antivan staring back at her.

"Are we being attacked?" she asked, voice low and calm despite her obvious unease.

Leliana smiled and shook her head as she watched her friend's shoulders quickly fall back down in relief. "No we are not being attacked, at least, not physically- I've no doubt that Chancellor Roderick is still on his holy crusade to ruin us."

Josephine made a noise of agreement whilst deftly picking up her writing board as she followed Leliana further into the Chantry hall. The two had barely gotten themselves comfortable before Cullen had walked in shrugging on his surcoat with Cassandra behind him strapping on her sword, both at the ready for a battle if required.

"Leliana, is all well?" Cassandra asked as she and Cullen looked down at the map expectantly, searching to see if the Spymaster had updated the terrain to pinpoint where the attack would be coming from.

"My apologies Cassandra, Commander- this meeting is not because we need to brace for an assault."

"Then why the emergency meeting in the middle of the night?" Cullen quipped trying his best to rein in his irritation.

"The Herald has had an episode-"

A barrage of questions erupted from the three advisors; was she okay, was the Breach still stable, did she hurt anyone, was she still in camp? Leliana raised her hands to quiet the room before continuing.

"The Herald has had an episode. She had managed to remember something from her past but doing so caused her great pain. So much so that she fainted from the experience." Leliana walked the length of the table, taking the time to consider her next words carefully. "The reason I called you all for this, was because her memory helped to confirm something I have believed since she first woke up. The woman who survived the Conclave and has assisted us thus far, is Elissa Cousland- the Hero of Ferelden."

The entire room fell silent as they allowed her statement to sink in. Leliana's eyes darted between them all, their expressions ranging from amused, bemused to incredulous. It was Josephine who bravely broke the tension by clearing her throat.

"You... Leliana... do you mean to say she resembles the Hero of Ferelden?" she offered, hoping to clarify her previous statement. "Certainly you do not mean that she herself is the Hero of Ferelden."

Leliana stared her down with a determined intensity that had Josephine's stomach churn uncomfortably.

The advisors exchanged glances with each other, not quite sure how to proceed without offending the woman standing in front of them. Surely she understood how ridiculous what she was claiming sounded to them all. The Hero of Ferelden had died over 10 years ago, forfeiting her life to defeat the archdemon in what was the shortest recorded Blight in history. She worked tirelessly with her companions to stitch the fractured country together so they could band together and fight off a monstrous army. Every child in Ferelden grew up being told of their adventure, and knew the song that their own Spymaster had crafted to tell the world of the great deeds the woman helped to accomplish. There were even statues erected in Denerim and Highever, the Grey Warden's brother Fergus insisting on the monuments to remind the generations to come of the sacrifice his little sister made for them all.

Cassandra's mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish, second guessing herself whenever she thought she had the right combination of words that would not set off the rogue to murder her in her sleep. Cullen knew better to even try and began rifling through the letters from the day before.

"You all think me mad," she stated, not at all surprised- disappointed but not surprised.

"Surely you understand our reaction Sister Leliana," Cassandra finally responded, arms raised half way beside her imploringly. "You are an intelligent woman and have some of the finest instincts I have known anyone to have- but you cannot expect us to believe what you have just said."

Leliana kissed her teeth and nodded her head bitterly. Of course she understood. What she was telling them, it was madness- but it was also the truth. From her looks, the way she walked and held herself, the way she remembered 'Princess Stabbity' Alistair's favourite nickname for her... to just being named Elissa- this was her friend through and through.

"Perhaps what Lady Cassandra meant was-" Josephine interjected only to be quieted by Leliana pulling out the piece of paper from inside her glove. She accepted it and looked it over, unsure of why it was relevant to their current conversation. "What am I looking at, what is this Leliana?"

"That," she replied tapping on the back of the page, "is something Elissa wrote tonight. That is her handwriting." She stood alongside the Ambassador and pointed at the drawing to the side and waited for her to come to the same conclusion as her, only for Josephine to look up at her completely perplexed. "This drawing here, that's the Cousland crest. Her family's emblem!"

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably as Josephine passed on the letter, angling the page to allow Cassandra to view the parchment beside him.

"Are we sure it's not just a fancy horseshoe?" he suggested, shrugging slightly, unaffected by the withering look Leliana shot at him. Cassandra hummed as she gently took the page from his grasp and inspected it closely.

"No Cullen, it is definitely a laurel wreath- but that does not mean it is meant to signify the House of Cousland," she rebutted, dropping the page on top of the map in between them all.

Leliana braced herself against the table, her fingers tented upon the firm wood. She took in a few deep breaths through her mouth before she addressed them again.

"She is the same woman who recruited me. The same who died on top of Fort Drakon to end the last Blight- do not interrupt me, Cassandra," she ground out before giving a warning glare to the Seeker who tutted but otherwise said nothing. "You all do not understand. She was my best friend, I know her better than almost anyone. If I showed this to Teryn Cousland he would recognise his sister's hand in an instant, if he saw her? Spoke to her? There would be no contestation. The woman who will help us close the Breach is Elissa Cousland."

Cassandra waited a moment to ensure she had finished speaking before employing a different tactic to encourage reason to return to their small council.

"Cullen, you were there during the Blight. It was said that you even met the Hero of Ferelden- you've seen and talked to both of these women, tell us your thoughts," she requested pointedly much to his chagrin.

"It is not like I knew her as Sister Leliana did-"

"No, but you must recall her. Tell us what you remember," Cassandra urged. And let us be done with this nonsense.

Cullen hated purposely thinking about his time back in Kinloch Hold; he actively did all he could to push those thoughts out of his mind, however he understood the need for him to do it considering the circumstances. He lightly pressed his lips together as he forced himself to the final day of his captivity, back to kneeling on the floor, back to begging the Maker to save him or kill him, anything but surrender to the demons in the tower.

Then suddenly, there was a woman peering down at him, eyes wide with concern and words dripping with kindness- no, another demon, she's a demon- but she wasn't. The whole group of them, they were real. No illusion, not a fantasy come to life. They were there and they were going to help-

She was tall, or perhaps she only seemed tall from his place on the ground. Long dark hair and fair skin both marred with dirt, blood and sweat from cutting her way through the mage tower; sword and shield in either hand as she tried to tell him that she was going to save them all. Him. First Enchanter Irving. The blood mages. All of them. Fool.

"... Cullen?"

The Commander of the Inquisition snapped to attention at the sound of his name, registering the sight of Josephine waving a hand in front of his face. He licked his lips and ignored the warmth flooding to his face.

"Right, sorry," he apologised to the women in the room. "Though I saw her briefly, I must admit she has a striking resemblance to the Grey Warden-"

"So you see it!" Leliana pounced on his admission, the taste of vindication sweet on her tongue. "She is no demon or spirit- Solas has confirmed this all for me. She is human, living, breathing and real-"

"However, Sister Leliana, if my memory is correct and if we are to go by all eye witness accounts, the Hero of Ferelden was not a mage," Cullen countered, the image of her holding a shield embellished with a laurel wreath flashing in his mind.

"And she was also dead. It serves to reason some things could change," she responded straight faced, exasperated that something as miniscule as being a mage could counter everything else she was trying to explain. Someone miraculously comes back to life and they were more concerned that she also had magic within her veins. Daft.

"You don't think there is a chance that you are wishing this is more than it is?" Cullen asked, pleading to her to think objectively. "That it could all be just an unbelievable coincidence?"

Leliana placed her hand on the writ that Cassandra had shown to Roderick two days ago and smiled wistfully at her fellow advisors.

"The Maker once sent me a dream, shortly before Elissa came to Lothering after the battle of Ostagar. Now he sends me Elissa herself, to help us out of this nightmare. I will not doubt him. Or her."

Knowing that they would not take heed of her words as she had hoped, she apologised to them all for taking up their time and bid them a good night. She would find support elsewhere. In Fergus, Zevran and Oghren.

And Alistair.

She sat back at her table and readied her quill, she would write to them all and just like ten years ago, it would be Elissa Cousland who would bring them all together.

Leliana's hand had been cramped for close to an hour and her neck burned as she tried to straighten herself. She had lost track of time in her need to write everything she wanted to say, to those she knew would understand the gravity of Elissa's return. Four letters were completed and ready to be sent out as soon as the pigeons could be spared to make the long treks to Antiva, Highever and Amaranthine- at least that was where Ogrhen had said Alistair was last, perhaps she needed to send another one to the Grey Warden base in Orlais in case there was anyone there taking care of the grounds and communications. Perhaps Alistair would stop off there in his travels, but could she trust that her letter would be unread in the meantime? No, she needed to speak to Varric to confirm if any of his sources had more intel on her old friend's location, and then send his letter to the closest safe havens he'd previously informed her of; he promised he would always check them whenever he was in each area.

Leliana bit back a groan at the loud crack from the base of her neck as she moved her head from side to side, staring down at the sealed envelopes with a sense of reinvigorated pride and purpose, they would believe her. They would come. And Elissa would be okay.

Pocketing the letters before she rose to always keep them on her person, lest prying eyes see them before she was ready; the Spymaster cursed her one track mind as her joints screeched their displeasure at the sudden movement. She promised herself that when she came back to her desk later in the day that she would clean up the mess but first she needed some sleep. She went to blow out the lantern when she noticed an old comb under the array of parchments and maps that decorated her table. Leliana carefully pulled the simple wooden tool and ran her thumb over the modest carvings, smiling to herself at the memories it held. She clicked her tongue at the idea that came to her and she gave herself two seconds to reconsider if what she was doing was right or wrong, before reminding herself that she would not second guess herself again. Throwing the comb in the air and snapping it back up with practised dexterity, she made up her mind and marched to Elissa's cabin.

She took note of how many people were already up and working to get the camp ready for the day and acknowledged them all with a nod and the odd greeting as they passed her. Leliana lightly knocked on her door and when a moment passed by with no answer, she opened the door and allowed herself in. She could feel her annoyance at the scouts who attended to her earlier, obviously putting the sleeping woman straight on the bed and placing a blanket over her, taking no care to change her out of a blood stained shirt or even remove her boots.

She guessed she could not blame them, after all they did not know how fastidious the woman was- she remembered the time that Oghren had thoughtlessly placed his boots on what he thought was his bedroll, only for it to be Elissa's. She had chewed out their new companion for the better part of their trek back to Denerim, the dwarf complaining that he had somehow managed to find himself a new wife with an even worse disposition than Branka.

He had been forced to wash all their dishes for a month for that comment. Leliana had thought it would sour his opinion of their fearless leader, however he did the dishes with a smile and their coarse banter became a source of entertainment to them all.

She watched her long and even breaths, the draught from earlier clearly doing its job as Elissa continued to sleep deeply. Leliana gently pushed the blanket aside and skilfully rid her of her shoes and placed them neatly beside the bed. As she replaced the blanket, Elissa grumbled something and turned on her side to face the wall, her long braid freed from behind her. Leliana despaired at the state of her dearest friend's hair, something she had always loved about her. She spent so many nights at camp brushing out her ebony locks and fixing it up into different braids to keep it clean and away from her face. Would she think it strange if she combed her hair whilst she slept? Would it be an invasion of her privacy?

Leliana looked over her now lightly snoring friend and sighed. Better to apologise than ask for permission.

Pulling over a chair to her bedside, she quickly put herself to work untying the leather band and releasing the dark strands from their confinement. She thanked the Maker that most of her hair fell away from the braid easily with only a couple of knots at the base of her neck. The Sister pushed the heavy curtain of hair away to hang over the top of her pillow so she could observe the tangled strands clearly, only to find a scar between her ear and hairline. Leliana took in a quivering breath and bit her down on her lip. She had been there when she acquired that injury, even fetching the water to help Alistair clean the wound.

There was no convincing her otherwise now, this was her friend reborn; the same Elissa who helped find a single sword in all of Ferelden for a Qunari who was branded a murderer. The one who decided to trust an assassin right after he had tried to murder her. The very woman who fought for mages who were victims of blood magic and possession, risked her life for them even when the rest of the world saw fit to let them die. She was the one who blushed at receiving a rose from the boy she fancied, but didn't blink twice at the chance to have an orgy at a brothel with a pirate.

Leliana didn't know if she was laughing or crying as her fingers and comb worked their way through the last of her locks, finally as smooth and pristine as she always remembered. With the aim of a master marksman, she threw the comb into the empty bowl by the windowsill that she knew she would use to wash herself when she woke.

Reminding herself that she was tired and needed sleep, she stood back up and replaced the chair in the corner of the cabin. She looked around the floor to check that none of her letters had fallen from her pockets and nodded to herself as if she mentally marked things off from her to-do list.

Leliana took one more look at Elissa and smiled, before quietly falling to her knees to cry, truly cry, for the first time in 10 years. Bent over with her forehead to the floor as her sobs wracked her body, hands in her mouth to stop any noise from waking her. She allowed herself this last moment of weakness to succumb to her joy before she followed the difficult path Elissa was bound to lead them down - to reclaim herself and to restore the sky.

Blessed be the Maker.