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Chapter Text

The afternoon light slants through the stained-glass windows of the reception chamber of the Imperial Palace. Celine sits with a practiced boredom on her throne. I suspect that she is anxious about the coming guest.

I can guarantee that she is less anxious than I am.

The mitre and cowl sit heavily around my head and neck. I am still unused to the weight, and wonder, not for the first time, what she will think about it. About me. It will be the first time we have seen each other in over three years, and I will be so very different than she remembered.

I wish it didn’t have to happen this way. In a perfect world, I would have met her in private, put my arms around her, and spoken frankly about the coming days. We would have met as lovers and equals, not whatever is about to happen. We still haven’t gotten the opportunity to discuss what my ascension to Divine means for us. What I want it to mean for us. Our letters have remained constant: declarations of love and longing befitting our long love affair. But we have been too afraid to address the hazy future. I wish she hadn’t been delayed. Had we been able to meet just once before my coronation, I would be able to relax.

Briala slips into the room like a shadow. Celine’s shoulders relax slightly, and I feel a pang at the comfort a lover’s presence brings. Briala nods to Celine and retreats into her favorite corner to observe. Several other courtiers are hiding nearby, poorly masking their curiosity. The air in the room changes, crackling with anticipation. She must be here. It’s amazing how every place comes to life as soon as she steps across the threshold. My mouth has gone dry, and my vestments are suddenly uncomfortably tight.

Tonight. Tonight, we will see each other in private and finally speak truths to one another. And more. This is just another bit of political theater that Celine somehow roped me into. Celine wished to meet the Hero of Ferelden finally after so many years, and I was an easy way to facilitate the meeting. I was too lovesick to resist her suggestion. Elissa had intended to arrive before my coronation, but was delayed for several weeks, so Celine asked me to track her down to set up an audience. It has been difficult to communicate freely, but I was able to send my love a coded note with one clear message: impress her. The postscript set up our private meeting tonight in her chambers.

The herald enters the room, followed by two lines of uniformed and helmeted Grey Warden warriors, who march toward Celine, salute her in unison and flank the aisle. Together, they recite the Grey Warden creed: “In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice.” They clasp their fists over their breastplates. The sound rings out throughout the vast reception hall.

An honor guard. Clever, my love. I do not hide my smile.

The herald clears his throat. Celine leans forward in anticipation. I try to prevent myself from doing the same.

“Presenting The Hero of Ferelden. Vanquisher of the Old God Urthemiel at the Battle of Denerim. Veteran of the Fifth Blight. Champion of Redcliffe. Arlessa of Amaranthine. Former Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. Sister to Teryn Fergus Cousland of Highever and daughter of the late Teryn Bryce Cousland and Teryna Eleanor Cousland. Warden-Commander Elissa Cousland of The Order of Grey Wardens.”

Elissa bursts through the doors like the winds native to her home near the Storm Coast. She marches down the aisle with her eyes locked on Celine and kneels before her. The court waits in anticipation for the next move as the Grey Warden honor guard files out of the room.

Maker, she has always looked so good in blue.

My heart starts to beat again for the first time in over three years.

Her blue and gray rogue armor looks new. The plating on her chest piece is buffed cleanly and the griffin emblem lacks a single scratch or scuff. The leather is too bright, telling me it was recently dyed. I wonder about the state of her real armor. Why would she hide it? Sometimes the better thing to do is to show royalty the signs of battle. Celine would protest, but she wants to see the blood stains on the leather and twisted chainmail. Elissa is a known dual-weapon fighter. Her leathers always look a mess. Even her boots are now new and clean.

Elissa’s face is carefully arranged. Her storm-grey eyes look bluer against the bright blue of her armor. I see the signs of yellowing around her nose and forehead from the healing of bruises. A recent fight? I look hungrily at her face, taking in the details. Her noble face is thinner than normal, her cheekbones too pronounced. Has she been eating? Her dark hair is loose and long, not practical for fighting but more presentable for court. She is still so beautiful.

She flicks her eyes to me for one second, and immediately looks away. I want her to look at me again, but it’s smarter not to do so yet.

“Please rise, Warden-Commander Cousland, and be welcome in Our court. We have wanted to meet you for many years now and regret the delay Our own troubles brought.”

Elissa rises and squares herself against Celine, ever so slightly shifting her weight onto her back foot. It makes me smile again. She rightfully considers Empress Celine to be a threat equivalent to the vilest ogre.

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty.” Elissa says, her voice echoing through the audience chamber. “I apologize for the delay. I had hoped to arrive two weeks ago.”

Celine rises and approaches Elissa, who holds her ground admirably. I move to flank them so I can see both of their expressions. It’s an old habit to want to help Elissa. Despite her noble roots, Elissa has never enjoyed politics. I remember the early days of the Blight after Elissa had realized I was no mere lay sister of the Chantry. I promised to assist her with the political aspects of her new position. She didn’t trust me yet, but an undeniable tension grew between us. In spite of the blinding terror of the darkspawn, and the confusion and frustration of solving seemingly all the problems across Ferelden, I miss those days. Falling in love with her made even the blighted earth seem warm and welcoming.

“We are happy you have come to Val Royeaux. We hope you enjoy Our hospitality and We are delighted to meet a true Grey Warden hero. An exemplar that the rest of your order should follow. We have heard much about your accomplishments. In fact, We once sent the captain of our personal guard to assist your squad when you first arrived in Orlais soon after the Blight. Chevalier Lucas LeRoux. You may remember him. He said you led them into a shallow section of the Deep Roads near Sahrnia. He claimed that you were rude and coarse. A brutish Ferelden fit to fight only monsters.”

What are you doing Celine?

Elissa remains composed and nods her head once. “I remember Ser LeRoux, Your Majesty. He was a fool. He had no idea how to fight darkspawn and didn’t want to listen to me or accept my ultimate authority over the matter. He kept swinging his greatsword, trying to break their ranks as if they were conscripted soldiers. I suspect he thought I was too young to lead. Several of his men came close to being tainted because of his lack of care. So, I treated him with the kindness and respect he deserved. I think his men would have been better served had I left him at Valeska’s Watch.”

The room holds its breath waiting for Celine to respond. The mask hides her face, but her eyes are twinkling. She is baiting Elissa, circling the periphery before she reaches her point. It frustrates me to no end, but I have to trust my love’s way of responding to the Game. It would be dangerous for the Divine to interject, even given our history.

“How frank, Warden-Commander Cousland. Very Fereldan of you.” Elissa squared her jaw. Celine continues. “We too know the assumptions people make about coming into power at an early age. But yes. He was a fool. And far too fond of swinging his greatsword. Despite his distaste toward your bluntness, he was most impressed. He reported that you fought like a bereskarn, your knives extensions of your arms. Each strike was a fatal blow to the darkspawn. You cut through the heart of the corruption and dispatched their leader as if cutting through air, trusting your men to clean up the stragglers.”

“More than that, he claimed that you inspired a fanatical devotion in your troops, the likes of which has not been seen since Garahel himself. He said that each of your men would have gladly marched into the Black City itself if you gave the order. He had to restrain a few of his own guards from joining the Wardens. The legend of your inspiration is apparently well-earned.”

Elissa doesn’t trust this. Nor should she. Even if Celine is complimenting her, another intent is waiting in the wings. A comparison to Sophia Dryden perhaps? Regardless, I allow myself to feel a surge of pride about my beloved’s reputation. The world should know how wonderful she is, not just for slaying the Archdemon.

“Thank you, Your Majesty. In fact, a few men and women did approach me requesting to join. I, well, denied their requests.”

“You did not want Orlesians in your ranks?” Celine pokes at an old wound.

“Not at all, Your Majesty. Some of the best wardens I’ve met have been Orlesian. I no longer administer the Joining. I have not accepted a recruit in years.”

With good reason. I watched Elissa grow disenchanted with her lot in life, the sad duty of a warden. I know that it’s partly because of me. Had we not fallen in love, I sometimes worry she would not have accepted Morrigan’s offer all those years ago. Now she lives on borrowed time, with poisoned blood which is slowly killing her. She does not want anyone else to have to live with the taint. I am eager to discuss her findings from the West.

“Hmm. Did you know Warden-Commander Clarel? We wonder your thoughts about the recent failures of the Grey Wardens in Our borders. We also wonder if your strong voice may have quelled much of the impetuosity of the Order in Orlais. It is a shame that you were so far from the South during such an important time.”

To the Void with that. I thank the Maker every day that He kept Elissa far from that nightmare. Had she heard the false Calling and been vulnerable to Corypheus, I would not have been able to bear it. This must be what Celine was working toward. Elissa’s eyes flash dangerously; she is starting to look annoyed.

“No, Your Majesty. Not well, at least. We met once at Weisshaupt. I try to be understanding, but she seemed smarter than all that. Perhaps she was better suited for study at the White Spire than command. As I’m sure Your Majesty knows, it is much easier to talk about action than to act.” Elissa looks briefly pained as if she can’t believe she said it. A gasp echoes throughout the chamber, and everyone is still. I watch Celine. She is silent and still. Elissa continues. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. I’m afraid I’m too much of a soldier these days, and no longer a respectable courtier. My social graces have gotten a bit too rusty.”

Celine pauses for a moment longer before smiling broadly. “You must find Orlais to be a pit of vipers in comparison to the Order.”

“No, Your Majesty. I know it’s a den of lions.” Elissa smiles back. It’s tight and forced.

Celine laughs and the scattered courtiers follow suit.

“See. That famous silver tongue may be a bit tarnished, but is still effective. We find you to be very charming. And perhaps you are correct. It is easier to think than to act. We find planning to be most effective alongside a seasoned commander. So, again, Warden-Commander. Why were you not in Ferelden when your fellow wardens needed you most?”

What does Celine want out of this? Did Morrigan tell her something? What does she hope to gain from this line of questioning?

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I was on a secret mission for the Wardens. It took me to the very edges of Thedas and beyond. I am not able to reveal my mission just yet. It’s too sensitive. I hope Your Majesty understands. Our order carries its secrets closely.”

“Of course. We understand the need for secrecy. And We are sorry that the Order has lost good will recently.” Celine’s smile does not waver, but she lowers her voice slightly. “You know, I met you once before, although I am sure you do not remember it. It was well before you joined the Grey Wardens.”

Discarding the royal plural is an interesting strategy to mimic intimacy. I hope Elissa isn’t taken in by it.

“I don’t recall, Your Majesty. I had only traveled to Orlais once before becoming a Grey Warden. It was shortly after the war ended. My parents came for the peace summit, and brought Fergus and me. I was 14.”

She sounds wistful. Elissa told me about this encounter. Celine invited the major families of Ferelden to a peace summit soon after she was crowned empress. Elissa talked about how her parents fought for a week about whether to bring their children but decided that the stronger move would be to come as a family and show no fear. Eleanor had briefed her for days about the dangers of Orlesian politics, including a rather in-depth primer about bards, which included more than a few inaccuracies but plenty of unpleasant truths. Elissa told me that Eleanor warned her from speaking to any man or woman who seemed unduly interested in her. The more beautiful and clever, the more dangerous.

Indeed, Elissa initially mistrusted me because she believed that I was everything that her mother warned her against. With enough distance from the past, I can understand that it was smart. At the time, I was so earnest, so desperate to flee my past and think of myself as good that her mistrust hurt me. I wonder what she thinks of me now, knowing all that I have done, all that I will do.

The summit occurred before I began training in earnest with Marjolaine. I sometimes fantasize about another life where I was a fledgling bard and met Elissa at the summit. Where I could have left the life earlier and run off with Elissa instead of becoming yet another victim of the Grand Game. But I would not have found the Maker that way. Perhaps everything truly happened for a reason. A teenage fling with her would not have compared to what we have now.

“Yes, I had recently taken the throne, and was not much older than you were. But I remember the Couslands. Orlesians often speak so poorly of Fereldans, but I am fond of your roughness. The blunt honesty is refreshing, if strange. Your father was a good man. He was kind to me when I was overwhelmed. Your mother was stronger. More mistrustful, but in a wonderful, Fereldan she-wolf way. I was saddened to hear of their fate. They did not deserve such betrayal. But you and your brother. Surely the very finest that Ferelden has to offer. No offense to King Alistair, but he has half the charm and twice the clumsiness of your social graces.”

Elissa smiles and almost looks at me. She catches herself. It’s the right move, but right now, I miss the intensity of her gaze. Tonight. Tonight, I will sate myself with her gaze, her touch, her words. As much as we can give to one another. I shiver in anticipation.

Celine continues. “Your brother, Fergus Cousland. So bold and brave. He attempted to play the Game admirably, but ultimately toothlessly. He was very noble and quite adept at politicking overall, though. He is a boon to Highever and Ferelden.”

“But you.” Celine takes another step forward. Elissa looks uncomfortable. “You were something else entirely. I remember you came to the opening ball in leathers as if straight from a hunt. You said nothing of substance to anyone, but somehow managed to steal the hearts of a Duke’s son, a young marquise, and two of my handmaidens. The youngest Cousland was an irredeemable rake and scoundrel. I remember. You were very dashing for one so young.”

Elissa smiles and blushes for the first time. “A misspent youth, Your Majesty.”

I do wish we had met then.

“Not at all. In fact, I was inspired by your boldness. That night, I switched outfits and masks with another handmaiden so I could speak with you openly. You were delightful. You mocked the food, the music, the fashion, all seemingly without a single care, but with such magnetism and levity that it stopped short of rudeness. I had hoped that our circles would entwine again. I was glad that you and your brother were able to escape the horrible fate of your parents.”

Elissa is bemused by where this is going. “You are too kind, Your Majesty.”

“Not at all. In fact, the Marquise of the Dales and I were conversing recently. We have heard many tales about the legendary stamina and prowess of the Grey Wardens. It would be fascinating for us to see a private demonstration of your abilities. If you are willing.”

What are you doing, Celine?

Elissa is tongue-tied and stammers a bit over her words as she very pointedly does not look at me. “Oh, that is too kind, Your Majesty. I’m not sure what my duties here in Val Royeaux will require of me. I’m not sure I will be able to, um.”

Celine watches Elissa flounder like a great cat playing with her food. Murmuring whispers and gasps fill the rest of the reception hall, as the courtiers perform shock over Celine's boldness. She has grown complacent with Briala as of late. Or the goal of this inquiry is more fruitful than any potential political loss. Briala has moved closer and is openly watching my reaction. Despite the scrutiny, I can no longer hold my tongue.

“I am sure Warden-Commander Cousland will be too busy for a private demonstration. But perhaps a public display of agility and weapon play would be satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory, Divine Victoria, but less thrilling. But where are my manners? You two know each other. You should be given the chance to catch up.” Celine’s laugh sounds like the bells children play with on the solstice.

For the first time since I last saw her three years, four months, and thirteen days ago, Elissa looks at me. And, Maker, have I missed how she looks at me. A shimmer of sadness hits her eyes before they are overtaken with something more raw and powerful. It makes me weak in the knees. I hold her gaze as long as I can, and practically hold my breath as she walks to me and kneels before me. I know that Celine is doing this on purpose as a show for the court. Perhaps this was her true purpose in bringing Elissa here. The nobles gathered here will all notice our closeness and that will affect how they view me. However, Celine does not yet understand one simple fact about me: I don’t care.

“Your Perfection.” Elissa says, her voice holding emotion as thick as honey, and twice as sweet.

She takes my hand and holds it for an interminable moment before she kisses my knuckle where my Chantry ring of office should be. I’m not wearing it, but she does not seem to notice or care. Her lips are soft and warm, and I find myself sighing. The kiss goes on far too long for propriety’s sake, and I cannot resist extending my little finger to stroke her cheek as gently and discreetly as I can manage. I feel the ghost of a smile in response before Elissa releases me and stands, her eyes still on my face.

I want to put my mouth on her.

Celine and Briala both watch us with glimmering eyes.

Celine clears her throat, and Elissa nearly jumps at the sound and returns her attention to the empress.

“We are sure you will have plenty of time later to make full use of your reunion. And We look forward to speaking with you more, Warden-Commander, at the banquet two days hence. Now the practicalities. Warden-Commander, we are afraid that Our Fereldan suite is unsuitable for guests at the moment. We apologize for the inconvenience. We have prepared Our Ander suite, which should be an appropriate substitute. It is, regrettably, at the far end of the guest wing. Far removed from any other guest. A most discreet location. Please let Our servants know if you require anything further as a most honored guest.”

Well. Thank you, Celine.

Elissa sensed the dismissal and bowed again to Celine. She turned and nodded to me with a meaningful look in her eye.

Tonight, my love. Tonight.

Briala and Celine exchange looks from behind their glittering masks. I suspect that all of us will be having forthright conversations tonight in various states of undress. I watch Elissa leave through the double doors and began planning my route to the suite.

Chapter Text

I cannot stop pacing the length of this Maker-forsaken room. Despite Celine’s horrible trap-laden audience, I had actually believed that she was doing Leliana and me a favor by giving me this room far removed from the rest of the guest suites. Now, the eyes of hundreds of Andrastes follow me across the length of the suite, peering out from the grimmest Ander portraits that I have ever been so unlucky to see. A particularly gruesome depiction of Andraste’s immolation is eye level with the bed. What I wouldn’t give for a few mabari carvings and Alamarri sculptures.

It’ll be worth it, though, right?

I stop in front of the vanity and check my appearance for the fifth time this hour. Freshly bathed and scented to mask the smell of many months of grueling travel. I adjust how my blue tunic falls over my breeches, and experiment with the right amount of cleavage to show.

Three years is too long.

Next, my gaze falls to my face. The bruises are healing nicely, but I can’t think that Leliana did not notice them. The new scar will be harder to explain, but I have a plan for that. I’ve gotten too thin, and I am always exhausted since my time in the West. But I was doing it for her. Maker, I want a life with her. I am seized with a sudden panic.

What if it’s not enough anymore?

What if I’m not enough anymore?

She’s the Divine. You are a monster.

I silence the thoughts and return to pacing. Leliana’s message said that she would come to me tonight, after her evening prayers and ablutions with her assistants. I don’t like having to share her; I never have. But this is worse. Now it’s not just Justinia and I fighting over her. She belongs to all of Thedas.

I think of her note requesting the meeting, including her pointed comment about taking a room at the Imperial Palace before the Grand Apartments were ready for her. It seemed so innocent at the time. But now I can’t help but wonder whether she is planning on finally ending our long and limping relationship. She would almost have to be. The Divine is chaste. Married to the Maker, and all that. I would get in the way. She’s not the type to take a secret lover. She wouldn’t pick me. I wouldn’t pick me.

Shit. Fuck. She’s going to end this.

A sudden sharp rapping on the door stirs me from my thoughts.

I fix my hair one last time, and move toward the door. As I start to open it, a hooded figure pushes the door the rest of the way open and launches at me. I barely manage to say “hi,” before Leliana is kissing me with more fervor than I imagined, pushing me back into the room. I can smell the incense in her hair. She closes the door behind her with her other hand.

Three years was way too fucking long.

I soon regain control of the situation, and without breaking the precious kiss, I stop her momentum and push her back onto the wall next to the door, dislodging a howling wooden carving of Maferath, which clatters to the floor. We are kissing violently now, and begin moving against one another in a desperate pattern like hormone-addled teenagers. I temporarily lose control of my faculties, and press my right knee into the space between her legs. Oh, Maker, the moan that leaves her lips.

Shit shit shit.

Somehow, I manage to wrench myself away from Leliana, and as we catch our breath, I watch her warily.

“What’s wrong, dearest?” Leliana looks at me with the most loving concern. This is harder than I thought.

“This isn’t, I don’t know, sullying you or anything, is it?” I am embarrassed about the dismay that has snuck into my voice. She has a way of undoing me.

Leliana laughs musically, and looks at me with such a loving expression that I forget to breathe. Her expression then becomes serious, and she wraps her arms around my shoulders, bringing our faces close together again.

“After so long, you are still so adorably Fereldan.”

“What does that mean?” I cannot keep the pout out of my voice.

“Do you think that I would go to the lengths I have to see you, after such a horribly awkward meeting with Celine, if I didn’t want to feel your body against mine? Why did you think I came? To pray with you?” Her voice is light but firm. She knows where this is going but wants me to say it.

“I just thought that—I thought that this was a respectful goodbye.”

Leliana watches me closely, treating what I said with dignity. “I’m sick of saying goodbye to you. I would rather never say goodbye to you again. And before you ask, I want to continue our relationship. You mean too much to me to give up on our love just because I’ve had a change of occupation.”

Change of occupation? Maker, I love her for being the master of understatement.

“Unless you want to end it?” She sounds unsure for the first time.

“No. No, no, no.” I respond. “I don’t want that. Not even a little.”

“Good.” Leliana smiles and turns us, taking my hands and leading me to the bed. “For the record, you could never sully me.”

My mood is vastly improving.

“Well, that sounds like a challenge.”

I track her movement onto the bed where she props herself up on her elbows. She giggles and beckons me to her, reminding me of the days when we first fell in love in that dank little tent. Our affair annoyed the void out of Morrigan and Alistair, who were united for once by their disapproval of our enthusiastic lovemaking. Jealousy, of course. I crawl over her and resume our kiss. Wasting no time, we clumsily undress each other and both gasp at the sudden shock of skin contact.

Her hands roam over my stomach, mapping the planes of muscle. The sensation is almost too much after so long a drought. She falters briefly when she reaches my ribs. They are more pronounced than they used to be. I don’t want her to explore higher yet, so change tactics and move to her neck, one of her favorite spots to be kissed. She responds as expected.

This time, Leliana pushes back suddenly. I worry that I’m being too much.

“Wait, wait.” She gasps. “Look at me. Please, look at me.”

I have never been able to resist her. I look at her face, and she locks eyes with me.

Ever since the Joining, I’ve learned that people don’t generally enjoy eye contact with me. I’ve heard many theories about it, but the leading one is that the taint makes Grey Wardens predators among normal men and women, and, thus, eye contact is an unspoken threat display. Even Fergus becomes uncomfortable by looking me in the eye these days. Leliana is the exception to that rule. She has never once wavered. I think that it’s because she understands. She understands what it’s like to become something that terrifies normal people. She won’t treat me like that. Just as I won’t treat her differently for what she has had to do to survive.

“I have missed you so much.” Her voice drops to a whisper and her eyes grow soft. “I’ve missed your smell, your touch, but most of all, my love, I’ve missed how you look at me. You see only me. Not someone that you can use to get what you want. I’m enough for you. I’ve missed that. I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you."

The emotion in her voice is overwhelming. I don’t trust myself not to weep, but somehow find the composure to respond. “I missed you too. So. Fucking. Much. Now, please, please, will you finally let me show you?”

“Oh, Maker, yes.” She sounds breathless. I chuckle, happy to be back in control for a brief moment.

“Language.” I nip her ear. I begin a slow descent down her body, kissing and sucking every bit of skin that I can find. I want to put my tongue on every square inch of her. She begins writhing, and it’s a challenge to hold her in place. She is strong, and her lean muscles are still so well-developed. I try to pace myself, but it’s getting harder to remain steady.

I move to the end of the bed and tuck her thighs over my shoulders. She is breathing very shallowly, her chest juddering with each breath. Right before I put my mouth on her, I lock eyes with her again. She is fighting a losing battle with herself, and it is so damn beautiful to see her come unraveled.

“I love you.” I whisper before finally placing my mouth on her, tasting her for the first time in years. She moans, louder than before and scrambles to clutch at my hands. I slowly begin to explore her with my tongue, trying to make her last as long as possible, given the impossible circumstances.

“Maker, how could this be wrong?” She stutters out from above me. “Andraste herself had a mortal husband. The Maker wants us to love and be loved. This is a holy act.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to tell that to Sanga next time I’m near The Pearl. And, hang on, am I Maferath in this scenario?” Leliana shoots me a look that can only mean I didn’t tell you to stop. I resume my ministrations dutifully.

“Oh, Elissa, you are so good at this.” She moans again. “Three years of longing. Three years of loneliness. Oh. You feel so good. Our love, oh, our love only brings us closer to the Maker, especially now.”

Well, I’m obviously not working hard enough if she can still form complete sentences about the bloody Maker. In response, I swirl my tongue roughly around her clit, and suck it into my mouth. She cries out, and her legs begin to shake. Better.

From then, it doesn’t take much to make her come unspooled like the finest golden thread. I savor every twitch, every moan, every shudder, until her thighs clamp roughly around my neck, and she comes loudly and messily. We used to know how to be quiet. Right now, I don’t give a damn whether Celine herself is listening. I have never been so turned on. I manage to slow myself so that I can ease her down from her orgasm, guiding her gently through the aftershocks. Eventually, she stops twitching and I wipe my mouth and move back up to face her.

Leliana’s freckled cheeks match the color of her beautifully mussed hair. She pulls me in for another searing kiss, and for the first time, I feel how wet I am against her leg. I hover over her and smile down.

“You look extremely pleased with yourself,” Leliana says, slightly slurring her words.

“Oh, I am. You make the most wonderful sounds when you come, Your Eminence.”

She shoots me another dirty look over the use of the title, and trails a finger down my neck to my heart. She places her hand over it, causing me to sharply inhale from the contact. The nearby skin is puckered and pink. The recent scar from the hurlock’s bolt is ugly. She traces it with a frown.

“An arrow? I don’t like how close this is to your heart. Were you going to tell me about this? What happened?”

"A mistake, love. I’m fine. The healer got to me with plenty of time. It was an ambush near Weisshaupt. The very best place to get injured.” I try to sound reassuring. In truth, it was frightening, and I lost way too much blood before the healers arrived. Leliana doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t want to chastise me further.

Instead, she moves her hand lower and lower, until she is cupping me gently. She watches me carefully, and it is increasingly difficult to breathe normally. She leans forward and whispers in my ear. “We must test your legendary strength and stamina. Let’s hear what kinds of sounds the Hero of Ferelden makes.”

She enters me slowly, first with one finger, but soon adds another. I moan softly and tip my head back, enjoying the purity of sensations that rip through me. I know she is watching me. I want her to know how good she already makes me feel.

Leliana slowly begins stroking me, and it feels so wonderful that I can barely hold myself upright. She is looking at my face, adjusting her movements by watching my reactions. She continues her pace, slowly drawing the pleasure out of me bit by bit. Soon, I am grinding against her hand, and she quickens her pace to bring me closer and closer to the edge.

Right before I break, she leans forward and whispers in my ear again. “Je t’aime, mon cœur. Je veux te faire gémir mon nom.” I absolutely lose my focus at Leliana speaking Orlesian, and cry out into her shoulder as the climax shudders through me. We’re kissing again, slow and deep as my orgasm subsides. She doesn’t remove her hand until I’m completely spent.

“Not fair using Orlesian. You know what that does to me.” I laugh with not even a hint of malice.

She smiles into another kiss, and I lose control of my arms, tipping us back onto the bed. She rearranges us so that she is resting on my chest and sighs contentedly.

“For a Fereldan who hates Orlais so much, you seem to finish so much more strongly when I speak to you in Orlesian.”

“Well,” I say. “You’re basically the only Orlesian I like. You could tell me that you found a rat in the bed, and I would react the same way. I can’t help it that you’re so irresistible. And, speaking of rats, did Celine invite me to a threesome with her and Briala? Did I make that up?”

Leliana laughs and kisses my chest. “Yes, she did. Although, I think that was mostly for my benefit. She wanted to gauge my reaction to see whether we were still together. She got her answer, but I don’t think it will mean what she thinks.”

“Well, I’m almost disappointed. The threat of a threesome being a mere chess piece moved about in the Grand Game. We used to have more serious propositions there.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I do think Celine is interested in you. Since their reunion, she and Briala are normally exclusive, whatever that means for them. But rumor has it they sometimes invite honored guests into their bed. She probably was serious about wanting a display of Grey Warden stamina.”

“She can find another Grey Warden. The days of sharing our bed are done.” The euphoria of the sex is starting to wear off, and the reality of the situation comes crashing back down upon me. “So. Listen. If we want to do this, I can make some changes. I’ll buy a house in Val Royeaux, and we can work out some sort of secret schedule so that we can see each other. I can’t promise that I’ll be around all the time, but I can find a way to meet with you away from prying eyes as much as I can. I’m willing to do that.”

Leliana looks up at me with smoldering eyes and kisses me softly, stroking my face with her hand. “I am not going to hide you like a shameful secret, my love. I plan on being very open about our relationship. If you are comfortable with being known as the lover of the Divine.”

Wait, what?

“But you’re the Divine. Last I checked, Divines don’t take lovers. Well, openly acknowledged lovers. It’s basically the main rule.”

“I don’t care. I meant what I said. Our love is righteous and holy. I know it is. The Maker wouldn’t have brought us together if it was wrong. He wants us to love. I plan on allowing all the clergy to pursue romance if they desire. It’s ridiculous that the Chantry requires chastity from its most devout when true love is His greatest blessing. We are only following the Maker’s will.”

“When did you decide this?”

“Just now, when you had your tongue inside me. I’ve told you before, I have my best ideas with you between my legs.”

Leliana smiles openly and my heart clenches. It’s hard not to be overwhelmed by a woman telling you that she will change hundreds of years of Chantry tradition so that we can stay together. It’s a terrible idea, and people will fight her on it. I can’t find it in me to argue the point just now.

“Poor Inquisitor Lavellan. Bereft of your wisest counsel.”

Leliana rolls fully on top of me and begins round two.

***

“Maker, what is that painting?”

A few rounds later, Leliana and I have ended up on opposite ends of the bed. She is looking warily at the scene of Andraste’s death, but I can’t take my eyes off her.

“Haunting, isn’t it? I think the painter captured the true essence of melting flesh.” I respond, happier than I’ve been in over three years.

Leliana looks put off, and bends over to rummage under the bed, delighting me with the full display of her backside. She removes my ration bag from where I stowed it earlier today and brings it to the bed where she begins to search through it.

“A loaf of stale bread, two wedges of tasteless Ander cheese, and several cured Antivan sausages, which smell slightly off. Hardly worthy field rations, dearest. I can ask the chefs here to prepare healthier stable meals that will keep you well-fed on the road.” She doesn’t sound surprised. She’s used to my lack of care for myself.

“They’re fine, Leli. Celine will fatten me up soon.”

Leliana doesn’t look satisfied, and removes my ritewine next, wrinkling her nose at the pale yellow color of the contents.

“Warden-Commander Cousland: the first cut is the deepest. What does that mean?” Leliana uncorks the bottle and takes a swig before I can warn her. “Elissa, this is vile.”

“I just liked the sound of it.” I’m smiling at her reaction. It really is vile.

“No, no. I’ll give you a bottle of this lovely Antivan plum brandy that Josie gave me when I was elected Divine. It will mask the strange muskiness of whatever you put in here. Also, I want you to think of me when you drink from this.” She takes another swig, and winces again, before corking the bottle and stowing it back in my bag. I take in the scene. Leliana, naked, drinking from that bottle. My mouth goes dry, and I wonder whether we have time to go again. The sun’s not up yet.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have any trouble doing that.” I hear the hoarseness in my voice. She strokes my side with a toe in response.

“Speaking of Josie,” Leliana says. “She is still upset with me that she hasn’t met you. She requests that we meet her for lunch sometime this week, provided that we, how did she put it, are able to pry ourselves out of bed.”

“I’d love to meet her. It was helpful to me to know that you had someone looking out for you at Skyhold. I really am sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

A sadness hits Leliana’s eyes at the mention of that time. She composes herself quickly. “You were busy. As much as I wanted you with me, I knew what you were doing was more important. For both of us. Can I ask how it went? Did you find something?”

I know what she wants. Am I cured? The Calling has loomed over us since the moment that I struck the killing blow to the Archdemon. It has been the largest shadow obscuring our future together. Thankfully, I haven’t yet started to have the dreams.

“Yes. I found something. I’m not sure yet what it is, but I am hopeful. A sort of blood cleansing rite. The opposite of blood magic. I’ve sent the information to Avernus at Soldier’s Peak. He should be able to write up a report for me within the month, and we can start testing. I should find a way to thank Morrigan for getting me started on that path. Also, I’m sorry I was so delayed, love. I had hoped to meet you before your coronation so I could give you the news. But the Anders made me earn my keep.”

Her eyes move to the scar again. “You don’t need to apologize to me for doing your job. I understand your worth to the world. I just can’t believe that Avernus is still alive. How is that possible?”

“Blood magic. And spite, I suppose.”

She smiles, more sadly this time. I wonder where the misstep was. I move to hold her, and she melts gratefully into my arms. She runs her hands over my shoulders and upper back, and I flex my muscles for her, causing her to giggle again. She’s always very much appreciated my physique.

“You know,” I continue, keeping my voice light. “I overheard some servants whispering about you when I was waiting to be brought before Celine. They are absolutely terrified of you. Something about birds listening to the gossip.”

Leliana sighs into my neck. “I have a bit of a reputation these days. People can’t get close enough to see me underneath the cowl. Things have been this way since before the Inquisition started. Even Josie is put off by my actions occasionally. I don’t care what other people think. Just you. Sometimes it feels as if you are the only person in all of Thedas who sees me anymore.”

“I love being the only person to know that Divine Victoria has the most adorable freckles. And ticklish sides. You don’t scare me, Leliana. You’re not a monster.”

“Neither are you.”

We lie in amiable silence until the sun begins to rise over the trees and the sky lightens. We will have plenty of time in the coming weeks to discuss anything and everything that we missed in each other’s lives over the past three years. But tonight was for us. For the first night in so many years, we actually have time to be together. With the sun, a weight lifts off my chest and a rush of emotion suddenly overtakes me. Soon hot tears are spilling freely from my eyes, and Leliana looks panicked.

“I’m sorry.” I manage. “I really thought you were going to break up with me.”

Leliana shifts up and kisses my forehead tenderly. She leans her forehead against mine, and I feel tears from her eyes as well. “Not unless the nugs have something to say about it.”

I laugh. She continues. “It’s not so easy to be rid of me, mon amour. I meant what I said.”

“I’ve never loved anyone like I love you either. I think you ruined me. But the sun is rising. You should get back to your bedchamber. We can’t scandalize the clerics just yet.”

“A few more minutes, love.”

We lay like that for another hour, before Leliana finally dressed and kissed me goodbye. It felt like something new was starting. My warden duties were far from over, but maybe, just maybe, we could start a real life together one day.