His voice sounded dull. Leliana looked up, but the Warden stood with her back, looking at the rising flames. In the turn of his shoulders and the landing of the head she seemed to have some kind of uncomfortable stiffness - but a moment later, when he removed the cauldron from the fire and turned to her with an even smile, in his movements he saw the same smoothness of spilled mercury.

“And when your last step is a feldden mutton chowder with peas, the desire to look around disappears by itself.”

“You know how to seduce a girl,” Leliana replied.

She did not expect that he would believe in the carelessness in her voice.

***

The flames in the wide hearth burned even higher than before, throwing sparks high up and brightening up the carved walls with bizarre shadows. The two sat side by side - Leliana’s legs crossed, the Sentinel - pressing them under herself - and sipping wine from silver cups.

“And you became silent,” the Guardian finally remarked.

“Who would say,” with just a little bit of taut irony, Leliana snorted. “Maybe I'm just balancing the bill for that year that I chatted incessantly, and you only did what you listened to?”

“What can you do,” the Guardian shrugged with a smile. - I always liked the sound of your voice. Just now he seems to be in short supply.

- Talking about it! - Leliana turned to the Guard and slightly tilted her head to the side. - You know, this is very curious: when we broke up, after a few weeks I caught myself thinking that I could not remember the sound of your voice. I remembered everything you said to me, to the last word - but not how it sounded. Strange, right?

"Damn it, now I transfer the conversation to him!"

“I am inclined to believe,” the Guardian sipped his wine and squinted slyly, “that my words found their way straight to your heart, bypassing your ears.” You know how your music is. Or songs. Or stories.

“Flatterer,” Leliana dismissed, but the smile seemed unconvincing even to her.

She stretched out her free hand to the fire, putting up an open palm with stinging tingles, and sat silently for a while.

“Do you know why I loved stories so much?”

The guard looked up and shook his head.

- A good story is built according to the rules. Even at the very beginning you already know the final. Alindra will be reunited with his soldier, the Black Fox will outwit the villains at the last moment and leave them with his nose, and the masters will be expelled from the Golden City and thrown into the bowels of the earth. - Leliana took her hand off the fire and, with an unconscious gesture, laid her hair behind her ear. - Predictability soothes, understand? Stories give confidence.

Finishing her last sip of wine, she raised the goblet in front of her at eye level. Even in polished silver, the reflection was mercifully blurred. There was neither deadly tired blue eyes, nor the fact that the hair lost its former fiercely golden sheen and now seemed just red, no wrinkles that lay between eyebrows years ago and have not disappeared from there. With the due effort of imagination, one could even believe that the smooth girl was reflected in the girl she was ten years ago.

“That must be why I joined the Church.” The Song of Light, the greatest story of all time. "The righteous will stand before the darkness, and the Creator will direct their hand." Much clearer.

Leliana put the cup aside and bowed her head slightly.

“So I joined you.” Wandering heroes that challenge the ancient evil, fulfilling the will of the Creator and doing good along the way - a great story. I never felt more confident.

Red head bent even lower, almost buried his chin in the chest.

- And then, after the Archdemona, everything went apart at the seams. That part of the story that was about you moved on its way - first to Amarantin, then even further, and that part about the Creator ... - Leliana ran her fingers through her hair. “I served the Holy One for years, devoted all my powers and all my faith to this — and the world was falling apart. As if someone else was writing my story now, and with each step it became worse. War, the Inquisition ... And I could only look and ask: is it your will? Do you want this from us? Suffering? Damage? Of death?

The tongues of fire were still dancing in the hearth, but the crackling of the logs became quieter, as if emphasizing every word.

“At first, I tried to understand how the Creator, whom I carry in my heart, could bring it all down to the world, then scourged myself for weakness in faith, and then everything repeated. I could not give up the faith that had led me for so many years, and could not remain in a story that promises only pain and fear. And when it was all over, others may say that I left, but in fact I ran away. Ran to the last story in which she felt confident. Yours

Leliana gripped her palms together so that her knuckles whitened.

- Scandal, right? The hand of the Holy believes in her lover more than in the Creator.

“The fact that I am dear to you does not mean that your faith is weak,” the Guardian carefully noted.

- No, you do not understand! - Leliana threw up. “This ... This is like that demonic nightmare in the Circle bache!” When all my faith, all my piety, everything that led me year after year - everything turns out to be just self-deception, a fantasy of a proud girl, invented to feel better than others! And there is neither a vision from the Creator, nor his wise and good will - there is only this narcissistic girl who wants to believe that she is more than just a spy and a murderer! ..

The established silence was broken only by the sounds of a burning flame and the distant echoes of the wind outside. Finally, the Guardian spoke smoothly and forcefully:

- At one time you said that I was a gift from the Creator. That you walked him dear, and he rewarded you for your faith. You oppose me to the Creator, although you yourself believed that I was only a continuation of His will ...

"Trying to belittle myself so that I feel better."

—... but what if everything is different? What if I am not the end of the journey, but its beginning? What if the Creator did not lead you to me, but should I help you come to the Creator? How did you lead to Sacred Ashes in your time?

“There is no more dust,” Leliana said dully. - You did not hear?

“The creator is still there,” the Guardian replied calmly and confidently. “Your story is not over yet, Leliana, and your road still leads you.” You just need to take a few more steps.

“That's the point,” Leliana shook her head. Her voice sounded fragile, like spring ice. - I do not think that I have the strength to walk.

“Stayed,” the Guardian answered confidently.

- How would you know?! Snapped Leliana.

It seemed to her that her exclamation should have sounded angry and desirable, but instead treacherous notes of hope were cut through him. She looked up to look into the Guardian’s face - and was surprised to find not the expected compassion on him, but a calm, confident smile — like that of a teacher who is not able to believe in the stupidity of a usually smart student.

- Today, when I went down the gorge, it was easy for me. My legs themselves carried me downhill, and the wind was blowing in my back, as if helping to walk. And then I saw you. You clambered up, fought for every step, and the wind that strove to knock you down, met your breasts. But when we stood up in front of each other - it was you who stepped towards me.

Leliana's eyes flashed suspiciously.

“You think that you are deceiving yourself by trying to appear better than you are, while your real self-deception is to consider yourself weaker than it really is.” A weak person would have thrown off his faith without a moment's hesitation, rather than trying to save her year after year. A weak person would not have moved half the world for the sake of someone who would help ... Read more →