Chapter Text
Dragon 9:34, Vigil’s Keep.
The Keep was fully restored. Ferelden, grateful to the Wardens for saving their country from the Blight and then ousting the warring darkspawn from Amaranthine, had finally been extremely generous in financially supporting the Order. Gold had poured into the Wardens’ coffers like a river, and Elissa had told the dwarven engineers to reinforce everything that they could. The Keep, already very ancient, should hold for another thousand years.
In fact, she thought, Ferelden’s own recovery mirrored that of the Keep. Well, somewhat mirrors, she corrected herself in thought. Barely a quarter of the refugees had repatriated. But that was better than nothing, and for the past three years, there had been a surge of weddings and births throughout the country, as often happened after a war. This included noble holdings. Delilah Howe had given birth to a son, Byron, named for a hero in the family during the Rebellion. She was said to be pregnant again. The Brylands had two small children, securing South Reach’s succession without the need for Habren.
Elissa smothered a smirk at the thought of Habren. She had seen her old rival, who was still invited to noble gatherings such as the Landsmeet as a courtesy, and it was hard not to smirk in public at the sight of her in dowdy Chantry robes, her hair pulled into an unflattering and severe bun. No more would she be making outrageous demands of merchants to lower their prices on account of her identity, or purchasing tiaras that no one lower in rank than an arlessa really should be wearing. Her father and stepmother reported that she did not, thank the Maker, want to be a priest, but that she actually seemed to have changed under the discipline of Mother Boann. Evidently the priest made Habren go along on her ministries to the Alienage, making her assist and be polite for Andrastian namings, weddings, and funerals for the elves. Elissa had even heard that Mother Boann had begun a ministry near the Pearl, Denerim’s brothel, and that Habren had been jolted out of her illusions upon seeing the number of noblemen who visited that place and hearing the crudity with which they spoke of the employees and the contempt with which they regarded their wives for supposedly not knowing of their excursions.
Some parts of southern Ferelden seemed to be too Tainted to be inhabitable for the foreseeable future. Lothering was at the top of this list beside Ostagar. West Hills was in rough shape too, but it did not seem quite as dire. But other areas of the south, including the Hinterlands, were recovering well. After she had settled the Architect and Mother, Elissa had directed the Grey Wardens to travel south and burn as much of the Blighted land as they could. Fire destroyed the Taint. It was unclear why this was less effective in Ostagar and Lothering, and she wondered if mass death had a magical effect to make it more resistant to fire. The Taint was a particularly foul, unique form of blood magic, after all. For now, she—or, rather, Loghain, who was situated closest to the affected areas after moving back to Gwaren—had established patrols around the worst sites to keep out everyone but Grey Wardens. They didn’t need reckless loot-hunters causing a renewed panic about Blight disease.
Elissa was trying to snuff out Blight residue in the arling of Amaranthine too. For that, she had the aid of her own Wardens at Vigil’s Keep as well as the—mostly—mages at Soldier’s Peak. They had made far more headway at the surface, though many underground sites remained full of still-infectious Taint.
Elissa never would have imagined, especially after that darkest of nights four years ago, that the ancient seat of the Howe family could become home to her—yet here it was. Delilah Howe had replaced Esmerelle after that traitorous woman had taken her own life, and she was proving to be a good city bann, whose experience as a merchant’s wife gave her a deeper understanding of common life, while respecting the authority of the arling and its Arlessa. Nathaniel was a good Warden. Elissa had no trouble from the two Howes.
Velanna had finally made peace with the death of her sister. Elissa had been determined to find Seranni for her own reasons, to give her a merciful death and stop a Broodmother from breeding more darkspawn. She also wanted to give Velanna closure. At last, the party of Wardens had found the remains of a female elf, far under Drake’s Fall. Seranni had not transformed into a Broodmother; she had died as a ghoul. Velanna had insisted on going along on that expedition, even knowing that she might see her sister in a horrendous form. Considering how badly Anders had reacted to even the thought of it, Elissa—once burned, twice shy—had not thought it a good idea, but the elf had been determined. However, burying her sister’s body under a new sapling had finally brought her some peace, and she could devote herself to imparting the lore of her people to Amethyne and Ellandrion.
Seranni’s fate had been unaccountable, at first. She had not even been a Grey Warden, as Utha had been. Avernus discovered the answers. The Architect had done things that Elissa had forbidden Avernus to do, but he had done them, so it could not be undone. Might as well see what he had learned.
Avernus had studied the materials and had concluded that the Architect had devised a potion to prevent Tainted women from transforming into broodmothers. They would progress no farther than ghouls. Elissa’s response to that had been anger—that, even with this knowledge, the Architect had created the Mother; and she felt vindicated in her choice to slay him. They had his notes and they had Avernus; they didn’t need the creature himself. Avernus was horrible, but he had a brilliant mind. Unlike the Architect, he wished to improve the lives of Wardens, not darkspawn. From the discovery that the decline could be arrested even in non-Warden women, Avernus’s own work using blood-based potions to arrest his Warden corruption, and the Architect’s work in ending the compulsion of darkspawn to follow the Old Gods, Avernus had developed a precise formula for a potion that would prevent the Calling.
It was blood magic. But then, so was the Joining itself. The Grey Wardens relied on blood magic for their very existence and all their unique abilities. It made a twisted kind of sense that stopping the Calling would require it too.
Severing the link with the Old Gods’ song unfortunately had the side effect of making potion drinkers more suggestible to the mental will of beings such as the Architect, just as Elissa suspected and feared it would. Avernus confirmed it: So long as the Taint existed, it would be drawn to other Wardens, ghouls, and darkspawn. Only an Archdemon had the power to accelerate the Taint’s progression, but even after Avernus’s great breakthrough, those who bore it could still hear lesser Tainted voices through it, and the strongest among those voices could use the power of command. Elissa recalled the handful of darkspawn “generals” that had organized the teeming horde in the siege of Denerim. Some Tainted creatures had much more willpower than others.
But for now, the awful, dreaded burden of the Calling—or a suicide to avoid it—was lifted. Avernus was now at work on potions to deal with Warden infertility. Alistair needed that, and Cauthrien, who was now the ruling Teyrna of Gwaren and married to Loghain, wished it.
Unfortunately, Elissa reflected with some annoyance, people were again whispering about Queen Anora’s womb. Her thirtieth birthday was this year. It was especially frustrating since the royal couple, Fergus, and all the Grey Wardens knew that the infertile party was actually Alistair. But the King had insisted that it was a Warden secret and was not to be made public.
Alistair had not taken Avernus’s anti-Calling potion after being told of its side effect. As King of Ferelden, he felt that he could not accept the risk of being influenced by a malevolent ancient magister, no matter how small that risk was. It was a noble, sacrificial gesture, and Elissa wanted him to have the joy of a child in his life to compensate. Avernus believed that the King’s adamant refusal to take this potion had made his own task in developing a fertility treatment for him more difficult, and had suggested that perhaps the anti-Calling potion could be slipped into the King’s drink. But Elissa had absolutely refused. Avernus was at least saying, now, that he thought there would be an effective fertility treatment in a year or so. That was something.
But Elissa had chosen to risk the side effects. She wasn’t a queen, and the Calling was such a hideous thing. She wasn’t thrilled at the idea that she and all her Wardens who took the potion—which was most of them, including the one overseas—could be suggestible to the whispers of another like the Architect, but hopefully there were no such others in the world anymore.
It had been a beautiful three years for the two women personally. Leliana had not had to go to Orlais that much, and had been free to spend her time in Ferelden with her partner. Their relationship had blossomed after their reconciliation, and all of Elissa’s lingering doubts—those gremlins that occasionally popped up like moles in a garden—had vanished some time ago.
Leliana had spent much of her time at Vigil’s Keep with Elissa and their adopted children, providing song and story for their family and those Grey Wardens who chose to partake. There had been many fun evenings of bonhomie in the Keep’s expanded refectory, seated at the head table with Elissa, her senior Wardens, and the children as a blazing fire roared behind them in the grand hearth—lute and song for a hall of cheerful Wardens at the end of meals. There had been many more cozy, intimate evenings of family closeness in their private quarters. Velanna might be teaching the elven children of their own people’s history and lore, but Leliana was teaching them about the songs, stories, and folklore of their adoptive parents.
Elissa exulted in her family. Rendon Howe’s massacre had destroyed and broken the family she had known all her life, but they had rebuilt, adding new pieces to create a new extended family. She had always known she would not have children of her body—at least not by her own choice—and becoming a Grey Warden had seemed to carve that decision in stone. She had contented herself with the idea of being an aunt to Fergus’s children. Fergus and Alfstanna were a couple now, and Elissa expected to hear of their engagement any day now. They had needed a lot of time to mourn their losses and recover to a place where they felt they could permit themselves happiness and romantic love again. Elissa was happy for her old friend, who had carried a torch for him for years. As she understood it, when they did make their betrothal official, they would also announce that Alfstanna would retain her title of ruling Bann of the Waking Sea. The bannorn marched with Highever, but they were not going to subsume it into Highever. Each of them would be both a regnant—either of a teyrnir or a bannorn—and a consort. It was an equitable arrangement that Elissa approved, and she hoped they would have children soon.
But she also had a family of her own formed from love, choice, and adoption, connected to her brother’s but also separate. Amethyne, who had very clear memories of her birth mother—and some of her birth father—called her adoptive parents “Mama Elissa” and “Mama Leliana.” Ellandrion had been separated from his birth parents as an infant and had no memories whatever of them. For him, his parents were “Mama” and “Mama Leliana.”
Elissa had been particularly touched—and convinced once again of Leliana’s commitment to her alone—when her lover confided to her what it meant to receive that appellation.
“Caitlyn’s son never did call me that,” she had said. “It hurt me more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t angry at her that she didn’t tell him to do so—and certainly not at him, since he was only two—but it did seem another example of how I was not truly hers.” She had smiled. “It is heartwarming that our little ones do call me that.”
Elissa had agreed wholeheartedly. The little ones might be elves rather than humans, and she and Leliana might not be married in the Chantry—though she wondered if that might be something that the newly elected Divine could reform in addition to her other plans, since the Chantry did not oppose same-sex love in its doctrine—but they were a family.
Little ones indeed, she thought. Amethyne is soon going to be twelve, quite the young lady now. At least, she would say so if you asked her!
Leliana had been in Val Royeaux assisting the newly anointed Divine Justinia V, who was none other than her own longtime mentor, Dorothea. Elissa was glad of Justinia’s election and hoped it heralded an era of reform in the Chantry, but she dreaded what it might mean for her and Leliana personally. It was certainly going to change things for them. They had enjoyed three blissful years of domesticity and comfort. The children had had the benefit of two parents living with them. She just hoped, now, that Justinia’s election wasn’t going to divide them too much.
Of course, they were not going to let this come between them, not after all that they had been through together, but it did seem that they might be seeing less of each other.
Or I could travel more, Elissa thought, tossing and turning in her bed. Things are stable and settled enough here, and I have trusted lieutenants now.
Finn Aldebrant, a Healer of the Circle, had joined the Order back in 9:32 Dragon. Elissa had wanted him in the Wardens at the end of the Blight, when he had been her Healer during the recovery, but it was unfortunate how it finally happened. Cauthrien had not had a problem with the existence of Morrigan’s son, but she had wanted Loghain to meet his child. She had insisted on it before agreeing to marry him. The two of them, the Healer, and a Dalish warrior had gone looking for Morrigan—finding her in the still-Tainted lair of the Mother. There, Finn had become ill, and had required the Joining to save his life. He was overseeing the Wardens—mostly mages—at Soldier’s Peak, his Dalish sweetheart beside him whenever she wasn’t traveling.
Loghain was setting up a southern post of Wardens in Gwaren so that he could be beside his wife the Teyrna. Elissa’s worries about whether this marriage would prevent the Crown from naming Cauthrien to the post had evaporated after Anora made her father take an oath to keep out of Gwaren’s governance. He was a teyrn again, but Teyrn-Consort. The irony of it tickled Elissa. But his energies were now dedicated to establishing a Gwaren post of Wardens. Many nations had multiple posts of Wardens; so should Ferelden.
And here at the Keep, her old friends from the days of the Architect—plus another pair of gifted Wardens, Carver Hawke and Darrian Tabris, the elf who had been locked in the Arl of Denerim’s deepest dungeon—kept the junior recruits in line. Even Oghren... well, wasn’t drunk all the time.
The Grey Wardens would be fine if she traveled to be with Leliana, Elissa realized. She didn’t have to step down entirely, but she could leave others in command at times and not have to worry about returning to a bonfire.
Val Royeaux it is, then, Elissa resolved. If duty compels me to be here, I will bear the temporary separation, but there is no reason why I cannot defer to a lieutenant sometimes and be with Leliana.
That was a comforting thought with which to fall asleep.
Elissa had told the staff to awaken her, no matter the hour, if Leliana returned at night.
After musing on Leliana’s trip to Val Royeaux, she had sunk into a strange dream that was not about darkspawn, rarely for a Grey Warden. Instead, Leliana had figured prominently in it. She looked sad, and, in the strange world of the Fade, she seemed to be simultaneously very close to Elissa and infinitely far away. Elissa could not comfort her. They were separated by some sort of invisible barrier. Elissa herself was stuck on a Fade-island in the midst of a sea that was reddish-black. It should have been ominous and disturbing, but somehow Elissa knew that this sea of blood was not of her making. Overhead in the Fade, a green gash rippled with light.
A quiet knock on the door disturbed her rest, blessedly pulling her from the dream.
“Warden-Commander?” called her maid. “Leliana has arrived at the Keep.”
Elissa sighed in relief as the unsettling dream left her immediate memories and faded to ambiguity quickly. She hurried out of bed and into some suitable lounge wear.
“I’m so glad you made it back safely,” Elissa said, kissing her lover.
Leliana smiled and turned her face to accept another kiss on the opposite cheek. The two women settled side by side on a two-seat sofa in a small, cozy room. “Your brother’s ships are well-built,” she said, “and the north is quite secure and safe for travel now.” She had sailed from Val Royeaux to Kirkwall to Highever and then traveled the rest of the way on horseback.
Elissa felt a moment of pride at that, but it was rapidly overtaken by curiosity about her lover’s travels. Leliana had sent letters to her when she was in Orlais, including one about her plans to visit Kirkwall and speak to her old friend Caitlyn Hawke, who had requested a meeting. Elissa herself had occasional letters from Anders, but they were really more reports, for the most part—reports of darkspawn activity in the area, mostly. Anders was officially an active-duty Grey Warden, but Elissa suspected that would not be the case for much longer. Hawke was now married to him, independently wealthy, and they didn’t need the Warden stipend. There also didn’t appear to be that much to do in that area after—a bit more than a year ago, the start of 9:33 Dragon—another ancient magister was found in a Vimmark prison. The magister, named Corypheus, had had some Grey Wardens in his thrall who had sent Tainted dwarves after Caitlyn and Carver Hawke—even launching an ill-fated attack on Vigil’s Keep, in the case of those sent for the brother. The dwarven ghouls had broken like waves against it. But Corypheus was slain, and darkspawn activity there was decreasing. Leliana had stopped in Kirkwall for something else.
“What did Hawke—or is it Lady Hawke?—want from you?” Elissa asked.
“I think her mother is Lady Hawke, and she is Lady Caitlyn Hawke. You know how disorganized these things are in Kirkwall, though.”
Elissa chuckled. It was true. The ruler of Kirkwall was a Viscount or Viscountess, even though in Orlais—where the title originated—that was not a particularly high-ranking noble, and indeed, there was no real structure to Kirkwall titles of nobility. There was a Comte de Launcet, who was exiled from Orlais—or was he? Elissa wasn’t sure—and who technically should be higher-ranked than a viscount or vicomte, but was still a subject. And what exactly were the Hawkes, or the Amells as they had once been? Just Lords and Ladies? The disorganization of Kirkwall’s aristocratic structure, with everyone claiming whatever they pleased even if it appeared to impose upon the authority of their ruler, was a perfect reflection of the disorganization of the city itself. Elissa knew she could not live in Kirkwall. It would drive her mad.
“I do know,” Elissa said through chuckles. “Did she want to know about Justinia’s ascent?”
“She did. I explained to her Justinia’s beliefs and plans for the Chantry and the Circles, as well as the obstacles that lie in the new Divine’s path.”
Elissa thought about that. “She would want to know, of course, as a mage—who’s had a child with another mage.” She strongly suspected, from the tone of some of Carver Hawke’s remarks, that the little boy had already performed magic, but it was none of her affair and she had no intention of hurting this family. They were mages themselves; they could train him safely. It would not be Redcliffe redux. The child should have his parents. Maker knew she would do almost anything to have hers back again. The pain never went away fully.
Leliana agreed—but there was something else in her eyes, Elissa noticed. “She wanted to know as a mage and the spouse and... well, parent of mages.”
Aha! I knew it, Elissa thought.
“But,” Leliana continued, “I think she wanted to know for another reason as well. This must go no further, my love....”
“I promise,” Elissa said at once. Whatever Leliana needed to tell her, she would keep it between them. She didn’t even need to know what it was first. She trusted Leliana utterly now.
Leliana lowered her voice. She was reluctant to speak for a moment, then decided abruptly to begin. “I think she means to become Viscountess.”
Elissa gaped, taking that in. “But—but she’s a mage,” she said. “And there is a Viscount of Kirkwall. Doesn’t he also have an heir?”
“Yes, yes, and yes,” Leliana said. “I do not know all the details, but I gather there is strong discontent with Viscount Dumar, and I have heard that his son is being courted by the Qunari to convert. If he does, he is disqualified.”
Elissa glowered. The Arishok of the Qunari, a military head of state, had set up with a garrison in Kirkwall for three years, occupying a very defensible building there and not even explaining himself or his purposes. The Qunari had ruled and tyrannized Kirkwall a couple of ages ago, forcing their philosophy and way of life upon everyone, and it was astonishing to Elissa that a leader would permit this after such a history. It would be like—well, she thought wryly, like a king of Ferelden allowing the Empress to leave a legion of chevaliers indefinitely. Rather like what King Cailan intended to do to force us to accept a marriage with Celene, she thought. What is going on in Kirkwall? Could the Viscount be scheming? Or is he just too trusting and appeasing? It was still foreign business that didn’t concern Ferelden, but Kirkwall was very close, and Elissa had a nasty suspicion it would concern them someday. She hoped that Sten had not carried back too much useful intelligence.
“As for Caitlyn being a mage... well, it couldn’t happen here in Ferelden, and it certainly could not happen in Orlais. It could not happen in most nations of Thedas, save for Tevinter, of course. But... she has a plan, and I think I have guessed what it is. If I am right, and if her plan—assuming that I am right—succeeds, then it may be that a mage can rule in Kirkwall. Especially since Justinia now sits the Sunburst Throne.”
“What plan do you think she has?” Elissa asked, curious.
“I think she plans to get the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall replaced with some priestly ally or other and then call upon that ally to support her bid. She did not say it outright, but I made deductions. She thinks very ill of the Grand Cleric.”
Elissa leaned back, contemplating this. Kirkwall was a turbulent place. It did not have long traditions of stable monarchical rule, nor did it have vast tracts of land held by freeholders and landowning nobles. Its nobility was, in fact, rather weak, many of them with no holdings other than their own city homes, gold, and financial shares in trade companies. They might not have the strength to oppose a bold, charismatic mage who had noble blood. If she had a friendly Grand Cleric.... It was strange for Elissa to consider, and unthinkable in Ferelden, but perhaps in Kirkwall, it was just possible.
“If the current Grand Cleric of Kirkwall is the same one who imprisoned the previous Viscount when he fought Emperor Florian’s improper use of the Chantry, then I think ill of her too,” she finally said instead.
“It’s the same one,” Leliana confirmed.
“My parents were very concerned when that happened. It reminded them too much of the Rebellion. Divines, Templars, and Grand Clerics shouldn’t be involving themselves in secular trade disputes between nations.” She scowled. “Just like they shouldn’t have been siding with Meghren during the Occupation. Orlais doesn’t have a monopoly on Andraste. In fact, she was one of us!”
Leliana laughed lightly. “I should sing a rousing rendition of the Fereldan national anthem now!” she teased.
Elissa chuckled, only mildly abashed. “Well, anyway, a toast to the health and success of Divine Justinia, Fifth of Her Name, and good riddance to priests who make a mockery of their vows to serve the Maker.”
Leliana laughed harder, but it did not last. Her musical laughter faded with her smile.
“What’s wrong?” Elissa asked as she pressed against Leliana’s side.
“Would that it could be that simple—if Hawke succeeds,” she said quietly. “But if she does, you and I both know that it won’t be simple at all.”
Elissa’s smile faded as well as she considered the import of that. A mage ruling a great city would be explosive, even if—perhaps especially if—the new Divine permitted it. And then something else occurred to Elissa, something that she wondered at not having thought of before. “Why does she even want to do it?” she asked.
Leliana took in a heavy breath. “She intends to reform the Kirkwall Circle—rather radically, I gather, if she can. I did tell her that Justinia would like to see a push for change come from the ‘ground’ up, rather than forcing reforms herself, but I think Caitlyn took that as approval to move very fast indeed if she succeeds at her ambition. And of course, she has a personal interest in it.”
“And Anders will be no moderating influence,” Elissa mumbled, recalling how he could be on the subject. She did not know Caitlyn, just what Carver and others said about her—that she was fiery and a bit scary sometimes. But, while Anders’ kind and funny side might be a calming thing, he had an even bigger grievance than she did, having not met his son for three years.
Leliana’s thoughts, however, had quickly shifted elsewhere. On the way back from Kirkwall, with Caitlyn’s plans to mull over, she had reflected once again on the dark riddle of Vasilia in the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The entire pilgrimage was a subject about which she and Elissa had thought often over the years. At the time, she thought the riddle of Vasilia related to both Marjolaine and Caitlyn in different ways, though she had not known how. Since taking Marjolaine’s life had not worked out the way she had thought, she was quite sure that she now understood its real meaning for Marjolaine: a prediction, via metaphor, for what Marjolaine would say and do.
“I made him swear that she would die publicly, with her war leaders, that all would know the Imperium’s strength.”
At the end of her life, after claiming that the slimy Great Game of a newer Empire was the most honest vocation in life, and also as an act of spite to hurt Leliana and vengeance against the Chantry and Prophet that had taken Leliana from her grasp, Marjolaine had blasphemed Andraste and slandered her allies and army. It had killed Leliana’s faith for a time. Leliana was convinced that this was what the riddle had meant—at least as a metaphor about Marjolaine.
But she had also, in the Gauntlet, had the overpowering conviction that it had a metaphorical meaning for Caitlyn too. That conviction had only become stronger as events unfolded.
It seems all too apparent what justice and vengeance mean for Caitlyn. And if she does become a head of state.... Leliana shivered. Will “vengeance” ask “the Archon” to do some dark public deed against the Chantry as a show of strength? Or as payback for blood that will someday be spilled?
She forced this dark trail of speculative thought from her mind. She and Elissa would do what they could to make the world a better place, but they could not control everything. As Justinia had once said—when she was still Mother Dorothea—not everything was for Leliana to do.
She forced herself to respond to Elissa. “I only just met him. I defer to you on that.”
“He won’t be, trust me.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to think. Seeing the Circle in the Blight, getting to know mages as friends rather than servants, made me understand very well why mages like Hawke and Anders feel as they do. And you and Justinia agree with their goals too, more or less.”
Leliana nodded.
“But... if they push too hard too fast....” She sighed again. “Hawke has to know she’ll need more allies, and she has Fereldan ties. She’s going to want Fereldan support. And Alistair and Anora are rather friendly to the issue themselves, so if she gets her crown—and then asks—then they’ll support her. Ferelden will get drawn into whatever conflict erupts from it. I hope nothing too serious does erupt, but... some places won’t take that well at all. Tantervale, for instance. It’s essentially ruled by the Chantry.”
Leliana nodded again. “And I have heard that many in the Tantervale Chantry already disapprove of Justinia, and likely voted against her election. Starkhaven, too. And even in Orlais, there is broad disagreement between reform-minded people and traditionalists... as well as those who liked Divine Beatrix’s close alignment with Imperial interests and those who thought it unseemly and impious. Like you,” she said with a wink.
Elissa sighed. “Ferelden just managed to heal from the Blight. We don’t need to be pulled into someone else’s war this soon.”
“I agree,” Leliana said quietly, “but we may be drawn into it regardless. This is the Dragon Age rather than the Sun Age, after all.”
“The ‘Sun Age’ was supposed to mean adulation of the Orlesian Empire, which was inappropriate for the Chantry, but nevertheless, curse it all that Divine Faustine’s reading of the age’s omen has so far proven accurate.” She chuckled darkly. “Why couldn’t the omen have been something like a wolf in Val Royeaux? The Wolf Age.”
Leliana chuckled in amusement as Líadan and Oscar looked up and barked, the direwolf in approval, the mabari in indignation.
Elissa gazed ahead, her smile vanishing. “You’re right, though. Isolationism is not a viable strategy when war threatens. Better to take a side from a position of strength and have some influence in how the situation develops, rather than having the consequences of other people’s conflicts foisted upon us later. Better to be proactive than reactive. And the right and logical side to take is that of Justinia. I’ve thought for a while that the Chantry needed to reform itself, or else it would be discredited in the eyes of Thedas as hopelessly mired in worldly politics and repressive orthodoxy. And it would be bad for the faith to be associated with that. Further associated with it.” She recalled the Temple of Sacred Ashes. “It isn’t what Andraste stood for.”
Leliana smiled, her blue eyes gleaming. “That is exactly what I have thought for years.”
“I know.” Elissa smiled back at her.
Leliana looked away uncomfortably and cleared her throat. Elissa suddenly felt uneasy, unsure and a bit fearful of what her lover might say next.
“You’re correct. I fear conflict is coming over what my friend wants to do... over what Divine Justinia wants to do, for that matter, even if my friend had been born without her gift, had a different life, and was indifferent to mages. Or even opposed Justinia’s goals. But she’s aggrieved and ambitious enough that I think she is going to put the Divine under pressure, unless I can talk her down from that degree of aggressiveness. But Justinia wants to effect changes too, and there will be resistance to that just as there was to Our Lady Andraste in her time. The Age will continue to earn its name.” She gazed ahead, clasping her hands. “In any case, I will need to be in Val Royeaux more often than I have been the past three years, so that I can help her.”
Elissa sighed. It was as she had feared and expected. “I was afraid of that,” she said quietly.
“She has named me her Left Hand, the one who operates in shadows and does what must be done... but which might harm her reputation.”
Elissa scowled. “I know how much she means to you, but don’t let anyone, even her, pressure you into doing something that severely violates your personal code. I know we have to make compromises sometimes and do things that we don’t like for the greater good... but it adds up, and lines that we once thought were firm can grow fuzzier with time if we don’t reinforce them.”
Leliana nodded. “I know. I am one of her closest confidantes, so she will ask my opinion—particularly for something with which I would be involved. I will definitely express reservations to her when I have them.” Her voice faltered. “I don’t want to fall again into the darkness that I did three years ago.”
Elissa gave her a hug, patting her lover on the back and feeling the warmth of Leliana’s body against her own. A lump seemed to form in her throat. Maker, don’t let her lose the best part of her again, she prayed. A fragment of her unsettling dream filled her mind. She shuddered and forced it away.
“I had a thought about this, too,” Leliana continued as the women broke their embrace and faced each other again. “You have several Grey Warden lieutenants whom you trust, honest and experienced administrators under Seneschal Varel, and a good city bann in Delilah Howe. In terms of overseeing the arling and the Wardens, you do not have to be here all the time, doing all these things yourself.”
Elissa’s heart thumped. She knew where Leliana was leading with this. It was exactly what she herself had thought before Leliana arrived.
“The children are a concern... and of course, if I thought I would need to be in Orlais for a lengthy period of time, you would probably want to stay, or to return home before me, rather than leaving them here by themselves for all that time,” Leliana continued. “They don’t need to think that their parents have abandoned them!”
“Not after what they went through,” Elissa agreed quietly. “But for visits in the warm season, when sailing is smoother, I could bring them with me. They would probably love the sights of Val Royeaux. And it isn’t as if they would be left at this castle alone, anyway. Velanna and the other Wardens would care for them. Even with the hahren watching out for them—even with their own parents alive—they were in far greater danger in the alienage.”
“True,” Leliana agreed. She gave Elissa a shrewd, knowing look. “I also have a secure means for exchanging messages with the Divine that will reduce some of my need to travel to speak with her. Not all, but some.”
Elissa was intrigued. Keeping confidential letters secure was a challenge. A great many people knew how to ever-so-slightly melt wax seals, open and read correspondence, and then reseal it leaving no evidence that they had tampered with it. Bards knew to make note of the way that bindings and strings around parcels were wrapped, as the recipient and sender might have an agreed-upon pattern to look for.
“Oh?” she asked Leliana. “A cipher that only you two know?” That was often a solution for top-secret correspondence... but it too was vulnerable to an insider threat if sender or recipient wrote down the code, and vulnerable to being guessed by an unscrupulous messenger—or thief—if it was too simple.
“We do use one, yes, but our strategy is, in our view, even more secure.”
“How, then?” Elissa demanded. Leliana was beginning to smile in amusement at the reaction that she was getting from her partner.
“I prefer to show you rather than tell you, but that must wait until tomorrow. My... means... are not here right now. They will be delivered.”
“Leliana!” Elissa exclaimed in loving exasperation.
Leliana smiled coyly. “I will give you a hint. You inspired me to think of it by being a ranger. And that is all that I will say tonight.”
Elissa’s eyes widened as her dog and wolf looked up in interest. They were so intelligent that they understood that word. “You have an animal—”
Leliana put her fingers to Elissa’s lips. “I said I will say no more tonight.”
Amethyne and Ellandrion were delighted to see their other mama the next morning. Before her return, Elissa had explained to them why Leliana was away, and what had happened in the Chantry. Although they had not met Mother Dorothea, they liked her because she was Mama Leliana’s friend, and they were happy that she was going to be the leader of the Chantry.
Ellandrion was still too young to have an intellectual understanding of any religion, but Amethyne had learned all about the Dalish faith from Velanna as well as those more adult and advanced aspects of Andrastian history, such that would be inappropriate for a younger child. It was adorable to Elissa to observe—secretly—as she sometimes playacted Dalish stories involving the elven gods before returning to her room and devouring a book about Andraste. It appeared that she appreciated the Dalish faith from an artistic and cultural perspective while actually believing in the Maker. It reminded Elissa very much of her own childhood and early adolescent years in which she felt an almost pre-Andrastian Alamarri pull to the earth. Elissa wondered if she would be an elven ranger.
That reminded her of Leliana’s hints the previous night. But surely Leliana would have an animal with her if she had discovered that she was a ranger?
The eager exclamations of the children distracted Elissa’s thoughts for the moment.
“Can we go to Val Royeaux when you have to be with Divine Justinia?” Amethyne pleaded, her eyes wide.
Ellandrion chimed in. “I want to go!”
Leliana laughed, fluffing their hair. “You may come along in the summer,” she said. “The Waking Sea is usually quite choppy in the cool season, and you would get seasick and hate the entire voyage. Besides, Val Royeaux is so much nicer when it is warm. The merchants sell their wares in the open, sunny air... floral scents pervade the street... the gardens are in bloom... people walk about freely.... Things are much more subdued in winter.”
Amethyne nodded importantly. “Mama Elissa took me to Denerim last winter and it was not very nice at all. The market closed early because it got dark and cold. But the hearths in the Wardens’ Denerim house were nice and cozy,” she added after a moment of thought.
Elissa had not insisted on recreating the Wardens’ Compound in the Royal Palace—though she had insisted on everything that had been their property being given into the Wardens’ possession, no matter how damaged—but, like most nobles, the Howe family had owned a townhouse in Denerim for Landsmeets and other gatherings. It was part of the holdings of Amaranthine’s arling, so it had passed to Elissa when she became Arlessa. Delilah Howe and her family owned the Denerim house that had formerly been Bann Esmerelle’s.
Leliana chuckled. “Yes, there is something good about every season,” she agreed, “but the sea during winter is not one of those things. You may go to Val Royeaux, but when it is warm.”
“I don’t want to be seasick,” Ellandrion announced. “I sicked up when I had the stomach bug. It was yucky. It looked like—”
“Ewwww!” Amethyne exclaimed. “Make him stop!”
After four years as a Grey Warden, seeing the vilest things on earth, Elissa had a stomach of iron. A child’s vomit was nothing compared to the flesh of a Broodmother. Leliana had to smother her amusement at this tableau too. But they were having breakfast, and Amethyne did look a bit nauseated. And it was never too early to teach a child good manners.
“Ellandrion, we don’t discuss things like that at meals,” she chided gently.
The elven boy scowled but fell silent. It crossed Elissa’s and Leliana’s minds simultaneously that he might well have meant to disgust his sister... cousin... no, sister by upbringing, Elissa thought. Mischievous little rascal. She too smothered a smile at the children’s antics.
“I think,” Leliana began slowly, “that you two will take Val Royeaux by storm. Let’s certainly plan a family visit as soon as the weather permits.”
“Yay!”
“Hooray!”
When they were alone, Elissa expressed a concern that had arisen in her thoughts at the table. It would have been cruel and inappropriate to express it in front of the children, though.
“If you do want to bring them along, we’ll need to prepare them for the common Orlesian attitude about elves,” she said sadly. “The Fereldan attitude is bad enough. I just don’t want them to be taken for our personal servants, and there’s a decent chance that they will be, even well-dressed: a lady’s maid and a pageboy. And I hope they don’t get unrealistic expectations about being admitted into Justinia’s presence. It would be nice if they were, but I don’t want them to expect it and be disappointed.”
Leliana gave her an equally sad look. “We cannot control how others behave. I can say this, if anyone addresses our children as if they were servants, I will set them right at once, and I’m sure you will do the same.”
“Absolutely.”
“However... it’s become reasonably widely known—in Ferelden generally, and in elite circles elsewhere in Thedas—that the Hero of the Blight adopted two elven children.”
Elissa shook her head. “How odd that that makes such an impression. The previous Hero of the Blight was an elf.”
“But the Grey Wardens have always included elves, dwarves, and mages, and people know that. Adopting elf children and raising them as your own is a far newer and more notable thing.”
“And I suppose Garahel was ‘conveniently’ deceased, so they didn’t have to interact with him. They could honor him, probably in rather supercilious ways, as a ‘credit to his race’ or some such, without having to know him. I survived, and I’m a human noblewoman.” The cynicism dripped from Elissa’s words, but she was actually pleased that she might be able to change people’s minds by setting an example.
Leliana nodded. “So, I’m not sure there will be too many mistakes among people who know who you are. There might be embarrassment from various Orlesian nobles, who have no frame for relating to elves other than as servants, and might not know how to act, but that is their problem that they will just have to overcome.” She sighed. “I used to see elves in the same manner, and even fancied myself forward-thinking for not abusing and despising them as the worst nobles do.”
Elissa gave her a hug. “It still matters that you were better than those people. But I’ve had to overcome unfortunate priors too. And if my reputation precedes me, I will certainly take advantage of that! What good is influence if it isn’t used?” She winked.
Leliana laughed. “My thoughts exactly! It is certainly something I mean to do with Divine Justinia. And she definitely means to do it.”
“That reminds me. What is this top-secret means of communication that my ranger ability inspired you to create?”
Leliana smiled. “I haven’t forgotten, my love. I think they should have arrived by now, and I will show you.”
She began to lead Elissa up the stairs of the private wing of Vigil’s Keep. Up and up they went, past the parlors and refectories, past the level with their bedrooms and quarters, past the Grey Wardens’ dormitories, to the highest floor of this part of the castle.
Elissa heard the sounds of bird calls before she entered the rather large room. She had not used this room for anything—yet... and she wondered about the sounds. Had a flock of birds gotten inside the castle? Or were they—
Leliana pushed open the doors. A young woman bowed graciously. “They all made it without loss or harm, milady Nightingale,” she reported. “I’ve given them their feed.”
“Thank you so much,” Leliana exclaimed. The woman bowed again and scurried out, closing the door behind her.
Elissa took in the scene before her. Half the room was walled off—well, no, “walled” was not exactly the proper word. A divider of thick wire squares separated the left half from the right. In the middle of this were several cutout doors, also made of wire, locked tightly.
Inside the large wire cage, about a dozen ravens cawed and flapped their wings as they fed on the birdseed that had been placed before them. Each one of them had a leg band made of some kind of lightweight cloth, and the bands were tinted various colors. On the right side of the room stood a long table piled with books and a chart that appeared to match each color to a word.
“They are trained to carry messages,” Leliana explained to the awed Elissa. “The Universities of Orlais and Markham have this knowledge, and I purchased these birds from Orlais’ university. See,” she said, directing Elissa’s attention to the color chart, “this shows what site each one is trained to fly to. We don’t have birds for every site in Thedas where they are trained to fly, as you can see. And the young lady you just saw is a University scholar who is going to help me train the ones with gray ringed bands to fly here, to Vigil’s Keep.”
Elissa gaped. “This is amazing,” she said, eyes wide, taking it in. “Why hasn’t Ferelden ever used these?”
“Don’t be too hard on Ferelden! This is still quite rare knowledge. But I think it is far more secure—not to mention faster—than mounted messengers.”
“Definitely,” Elissa gasped, still awed at the birds. She finally drew her attention away and focused it on her beloved. “Do you feel a personal connection with them? Are you a ranger for these birds?”
Leliana smiled mildly. “I do not think so—not exactly—but I do feel a closer connection with them than with most other animals. Well, nugs excepted,” she said, laughing. “But I do not know if I would have thought of this if I had not met you.”
That warranted a kiss. Elissa took Leliana’s face in her hands and kissed her long and deeply, caressing her soft skin with the battle-callused pads of her fingers, feeling the gentle touch of her lover’s hands around her waist.
At last they had to part. Leliana smiled at her again. Holding her hand, she led Elissa to one of the openings in the wire barrier. Unlocking it carefully, she opened it, sprinkled an extra bit of birdseed on her outstretched palm, and placed it at the entrance, waiting for a raven to land. Elissa then noticed that the birds were subdivided into smaller rooms by their different-colored leg bands, and that there were only four colors.
“The Grand Cathedral, the University of Orlais, the College of Magi in Cumberland, and Vigil’s Keep,” Leliana said quietly. “Though perhaps in time, more may be added if they can be trained. I suspect I will want some for Kirkwall... which doesn’t use them yet either.”
Elissa beamed. “They’re beautiful birds. It’s a shame to keep them caged.”
Leliana nodded. “Which is why I chose the largest unused room for them. But I expect they will see quite a lot of freedom.”
A raven from the opened compartment—a Grand Cathedral one, Elissa noted as she stole a glance at the chart—pecked at the birdseed in Leliana’s hands. Gently she brought the creature out and closed the latch behind it. It was very tame, not trying to get away from her or attack her. That must be part of the domestication too.
Leliana attached a lightweight scroll of vellum to the bird’s leg, tying it securely. She gave Elissa another smile as she walked over to the nearest window.
With an exultant sweeping motion that made Elissa’s heart soar and chills of inexpressible joy run down her back, Leliana threw the casements open and set the raven free. It cawed as if in approval and took wing with a vigor and enthusiasm that the women, with their affinity for animals, were certain they had not imagined. Elissa’s heart pounded with happiness at the sight.
“It was eager for its next journey,” Elissa remarked.
Leliana gave her a meaningful look. “So it was.”
Elissa and Leliana stood side by side and watched until the black shape of the raven vanished from their sight in the sweet, clear spring air.
