Author's Note: Hi guys! I haven't written much, especially fanfiction, for a looong time. So comments and critiques welcome!

Also - Remember in Dragon Age Inquisition after you try to close the Breach the first time? Then you wake up later in Haven, and this lady elf comes in for a cut scene? Well, I've decided to name that elf Marna for the sake of this story, as I never caught a name for her. This should become clear on its own in the story, though! (I hope...)

And - The Inquisitor here is based on the character I played in the game - female Dalish elf Lavellan.

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age 3 - Bioware does. I'm not making any money from writing this story. I'm just a fan of the game and wanted to express my love through writing! (Does this work for a disclaimer? I'm totally rusty on this stuff...)

Skyhold was relatively quiet, with the majority of the Inquisition's forces still returning from the Arbor Wilds. Having fewer mouths to feed did little to improve the cook's mood, however.

"Marna! Stop your dallying and get on with it! The Inquisitor is waiting!" the cook scolded. She waved at a tray with one hand, the other on her hip as she gave Marna a disapproving glare. "Why she ever requested you specifically I'll never understand."

"Oh-of course, Cook," the elf with short, reddish-brown hair stammered. She hastily picked up the tray and left the heat of the kitchen. Dawn was rising outside, and it was her duty to take breakfast to Inquisitor Lavellan every morning. Marna carefully made her way up the stairs to the Inquisitor's private quarters, sure not to drop the tray of fruit, bread, and cheese. The Herald of Andraste preferred simple fare for her morning meal.

Marna remembered the first time she met the Herald. It had been just after she had stopped the Breach from growing, back in Haven. Marna was slightly embarrassed, looking back. She had already been afraid when Adan the healer had sent her to store the small crate of herbs in the storage cabin, which was serving as makeshift quarters for Lavellan as she healed from her attempt to close the Breach. How could she risk disturbing the rest of the one trying to save them, the one whom Andraste herself had saved? She was too meek to express her concerns, though, and so had entered the cabin as quietly as possible. She planned to be quick, and leave before anything could happen.

She had been so frightened when Lavellan sat up and stared at her. This was the Herald of Andraste, their hero! And she, little servant Marna, had awoken her! She had fallen to her knees, bowing, babbling, trying to answer Lavellan's questions. She tried not to stare at the dark green, leafy tattoos that branched below her eyes.

"Is this… another prison?" Lavellan had asked, dread in her voice. Marna felt anxious, worried, that Lavellan thought they would imprison a hero. She had been a prisoner at first, yes, but that had been wrong! It was before they understood. Even Seeker Cassandra had said so. Thinking this, tongue-tied Marna had remembered the Seeker telling Adan she was to be informed right away when the Herald awoke. She told Lavellan this, her voice shaking, and she stumbled back out of the cabin. She's awake! Marna had told the guards outside, then ran for the Chantry.

Marna shook the memory as she reached the door leading directly into the Inquisitor's quarters. Once she had been made Inquisitor, Lavellan had asked specifically for her to serve as her personal maidservant. Such an honor! When the cook had asked why (how could she question the Inquisitor?!) she wanted such a clumsy elf, Lavellan had laughed lightly, smiling past the cook, directly at Marna. "Well, honestly, she was the first friendly face I had seen since stepping out of the rift!" Lavellan had said. Marna was not used to such kindness, as growing up in the Alienage orphanage had provided little of it. Since then, she had eagerly served the Inquisitor, bringing her meals, delivering messages, anything she might need. She could not fight, but Marna was proud of the part she could play, in doing her best to help the Inquisitor.

Marna knocked on the door, two soft and two loud so the Inquisitor would know it was her.

"Come in, Marna!" Lavellan called.

Marna entered, closing the door carefully behind her. She walked up the last of the stairs leading into Lavellan's quarters. The Inquisitor was already dressed, though barefoot. She held a large tome in her hands, pacing absently as she read from it. She looked up, smiling at Marna.

"Good morning, Marna. Perfect timing as always! I was just starting to feel hungry," she said, closing the tome and placing it on her desk. She plopped down in the chair behind her desk, running a hand through her short brown hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

Marna brought the tray to the desk, careful to avoid staring at Lavellan's face, from which her vallaslin had disappeared a week ago. She had not asked, and Lavellan had not shared.

"Did you sleep well, Lady Inquisitor?" Marna asked as she poured water from pitcher into a goblet.

"Ah, a bit," Lavellan replied, opening her eyes. She smiled as she took the goblet and drank. Marna stepped back, glancing over her shoulder as Lavellan drank. The bed was still perfectly made, which would explain the dark splotches beneath Lavellan's eyes. Marna was worried – Lavellan had slept little since returning from the Arbor Wilds. She had heard of the battle and the temple. Exactly what had happened in the temple was never said, and Marna was sure she was better off not knowing. Whatever it was, though, was costing the Inquisitor restful sleep.

"Is something wrong, Marna?" Lavellan asked. "You're frowning."

Marna started. "Ah, I was just… thinking. Wou- would you like me to bring you herbal tea tonight?" At Lavellan's questioning look, she continued. "To help you sleep…better..."

Lavellan made a face.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Inquisitor, I just thought…" Marna stammered, again reminded of her first meeting with the Herald.

"Oh, don't trouble yourself so, Marna," Lavellan said with a laugh. "You know I'm not fond of tea." Her gaze grew distant, looking past Marna. "There's just so much to think about, so much to do…"

Marna looked at the floor, fidgeting slightly. Moments passed, before the Inquisitor came back to herself.

"Ah, sorry," she said, sitting up straighter in her chair and clearing her throat. She smiled at Marna. "Would you mind asking my advisers to meet me in the war room, in an hour? And deliver this note to the Horse Master?"

"Of course, Inquisitor. Is there anything else?"

Lavellan snapped her fingers, then began shuffling through the papers on her desk. "Ah, thank you for reminding me. Would you mind picking up these books for me, as well?" She found the right paper, a short list of titles, and handed it to Marna.

"Yes, Inquisitor, of course," Marna answered eagerly, taking the list. The folded the paper gingerly and placed it in her pocket.

"Great, thank you, Marna," Lavellan said, turning her attention to her meal. Marna paused a moment, in case Lavellan thought of anything else – a habit borne from her years as a servant. She stepped quietly over to the side table, taking the empty tray from last night. It wasn't like Lavellan to take the evening meals alone in her quarters as she had done for the last several nights. Another thing that worried Marna.

"Oh, Marna, before you go," Lavellan said. Marna turned back to face her, tray in hand. Lavellan continued. "You… you know I appreciate your help, yes?"

Marna felt herself blush. "Of course, Inquisitor. I… I know it isn't much, but anything I can do to help…"

"I'm completely serious," Lavellan said, smiling slightly. "I can see that you worry for me, and I'm touched. I just want you to know that I truly appreciate everything you do for me, it really helps having someone I trust. And you don't need to worry." Lavellan was sitting straight, smiling slightly, her head held high. She looked enough like her usual strong Inquisitor-self that Marna believed her as she continued. "I will be fine, and we will win this fight."

Marna felt a rush of warmth and pride. The Inquisitor trusted her! "Yes, Inquisitor. Th-thank you," she managed to say, though it came out little more than a whisper.

"Thank you, Marna," Lavellan said, still smiling slightly.

With a bow, Marna left the Inquisitor's quarters. She didn't see Lavellan sigh and slump forward to rest her head in her hand, elbow propped up on the desk. After a moment, the elf shook her head and stood. She picked up an apple and a sheaf of papers, pacing slowly again as she read the report. The pacing helped keep her awake. As if the worries and weight of the world were not enough on their own.

Several men were unloading supplies from the cart and carrying them up the stairs into the kitchen. One paid particularly close attention to the happenings around him. He heard the cook yell at a young elven woman. At the mention of the Inquisitor, he looked up from the sack of flour he had just slung into place. Realizing this woman must serve the Inquisitor directly, he quickly memorized her features. As she left the kitchen he took a step forward to follow her. One of the other men called to him, telling him there was still more in the cart to unload, and he better not be running off. The man grit his teeth. He would bide his time.

Varric sat at the table by the fire in the Great Hall. It was a nice spot, easy to see the comings and goings of the castle. He sat back with his mug, watching the castle come to life. He chuckled lightly, seeing the elf Marna emerge from Lavellan's quarters. The usually timid elf was beaming, a bounce in her step as she headed for the kitchen.

"Something amusing, Child of the Stone?" asked Solas, standing in the doorway that led to his rotunda.

Varric nodded toward Marna. "She's awful chipper for once, isn't she?"

"It appears so," Solas agreed with a nod.

"She just came from the Inquisitor's room. She must have something to do with it," Verric said, glancing sideways at Solas as he took a drink.

"Perhaps. The Inquisitor is certainly a kind woman," Solas said, his tone betraying nothing.

Varric nodded in agreement, placing the mug on the table. "Say, you're up pretty early, Chuckles. Don't you need to sleep to do your Fade walking thing?"

"Yes. I find myself restless today, though."

Varric waved a hand at the chair beside him. "Take a seat then." Noticing Solas's hesitation, Varric decided he wouldn't bring up the Inquisitor again. He had noticed the the stark difference in their relationship, and had his suspicions as to what had happened, but decided now was not the time to discuss it with either of them. "I could use your help with something, actually," he said, indicating the papers, pen, and inkwell before him. Several pages were covered in Verric's neat script, lines here and there crossed out and notes written in the margins.

"My publisher keeps sending me threatening letters, demanding something new," Varric started, as Solas took a seat. "I'm thinking about starting a new serial. Courtly intrigue, assassins, spies, traitors, that sort of thing."

"Would this happen to be inspired by our time at the Winter Palace?" Solas asked, slightly amused.

"You got it, Chuckles," Varric said with a nod and smile. " I think I'll leave out the whole rifts, demons, and the influence of an evil ancient magister, though. Too unbelievable," he said with a wink.

"I would be glad to help. What do you need?"

"Well, I'm trying to describe a noble's face when he learns that the princess he's betrothed to is actually a Qunari spy. Human of course, but working with the Qunari."

"Ah, an interesting situation." Solas remarked, a slight smile playing on his lips. The two settled in to their discussion.

Marna had already returned the tray to the kitchen, and informed Cullen, Josephine, and Leliana that the Inquisitor wished to meet with them. She was in the library, holding three books as the archivist searched for the last title on Lavellan's list.

"It's on ancient elven herbal treatments, and prayers for health… it should be here… oh I remember now, the surgeon borrowed it!" the high-strung archivist exclaimed. "I told her to be sure not to get blood on it, and she laughed at me! You'll have to get it from her. If there's a speck of blood on it, the spymaster will have my skin," he huffed, waving his hands as he marched away from Marna.

She stood there a moment, considering. Should she leave these books here while she achieved the last one? Or take these to the Inquisitor first? No, she decided, she didn't want to risk someone else taking them, or interrupting Lavellan. She would have to carry the large tomes over to the infirmary.

After explaining to the surgeon that it was the Inquisitor who had requested the book, she turned it over the Marna. She was relieved to see there was no blood on it. Moving back toward the Great Hall with all four books in hand, she was stopped by Seeker Cassandra who was exiting the tavern.

"Marna, have you seen Varric this morning? I expected to find him passed out in the tavern after all his drinking last night, but it seems I was mistaken." Marna couldn't tell if the Seeker was upset or amused.

"Um, yes, Seeker Pentaghast. He's in the Great Hall. At least, he was earlier," Marna answered, shifting the books in her arms.

"Thank you. Do you need help with those?"

"Oh, no, thank you, Seeker," Marna replied. She couldn't let someone as important as the Seeker assist her in such a task.

"Alright, have a good day," Cassandra said, turning away. She paused turning back to Marna. "Would you tell the cook to keep a close eye on the supplies just delivered? The men who brought them in are in the tavern, and Sera seemed very interested in the details of their delivery. I imagine she is planning a prank of some kind." Her voice was definitely disapproving this time.

"Yes, Seeker," Marna said, nodding. Cook would certainly be upset. Cassandra thanked her, and left.

Marna began to follow, when she remembered the note for Horse Master Dennett. She berated herself for forgetting such a thing. The Inquisitor trusted her, and she must not let her down. She shifted the books again, heading down the stone stairs toward the stables.

The man had slipped out of the tavern, away from the others. He had established himself as a loner on the trip, and the others were wary of him, so they said nothing when he left. There was just enough chill in the air for him to keep his hood up, for which he was grateful. He was glad of his luck again when he spotted the elven servant from before, this time carrying books and speaking with a human woman in armor. After a moment the two women separated. Making sure no one was paying attention, and stepping quietly, he followed the elven woman.

"Good morning, Seeker. How can this humble dwarf be of service this fine day?" Varric asked as Cassandra approached him and Solas.

Cassandra scowled. "You, humble? I have met kings with more humility than you."

Varric shrugged. "Well, you are a Seeker of Truth, so that must be true."

Cassandra cleared her throat. "I was hoping to speak to you in private, Varric."

"Well, Chuckles here can keep a secret. So take a seat and lets have this little heart to heart you want," Varric said, amused at Cassandra's answering scowl. She shifted in place, but did not sit.

"It is about your serial… Swords and Shields. The final chapter was… more than adequate," Cassandra said, avoiding meeting Varric's eyes.

Solas smiled slightly, and Varric chuckled. "Just adequate, Seeker? Is that the truth?"

Cassandra crossed her arms. "Fine. It was… wonderful. I enjoyed it."

"Well, it's nice to hear from a fan. I'm working on a new serial, in fact." Varric swept a hand over the papers scattered before him and Solas.

Cassandra took a seat. "May I… may I see it?"

Varric hesitated, seeming to consider. "Alright, I suppose you can help. As long as you don't go telling all your friends about it." Cassandra scowled in response, but the look disappeared as Varric handed her the first page.

Marna berated herself again for forgetting to deliver the note to Dennett earlier. Her arms were quickly tiring of carrying the books. Dennett had read the note, then waved her off when she asked if she should wait for his reply.

"Just tell Inquisition the mounts are fine. She worries too much," he had said. Marna bowed slightly, paused until he reentered the stables, then headed toward the stairs to the kitchen. She still had to give the cook Seeker Cassandra's warning.

"You, girl," a low voice said. Marna looked around, seeing a hooded figure in the shadow of the stables. She shivered slightly, reminded that she herself should have grabbed her cloak before venturing into the morning chill.

"Ah, yes, sir? Can I… help you?" she asked, approaching the figure.

As soon as she was close enough, the man grabbed her. The books fell from her hands as he pressed her against the stone wall, one hand over her mouth and the other holding a dagger to her throat. Marna's scream was muffled enough that no one heard it over the sounds of the horses and such in the stables.

"Actually, you can," the man growled. He was taller than her, but in the shadow she could not make out his face under the hood. She shivered, wide-eyed and terrified.

"You will take me to the Inquisitor's quarters. I wish to speak with her privately. Scream or run and you won't live to be rescued. Do as I say, and you will live, and no harm will befall anyone else. Blink if you understand." The man spoke with menace, and Marna had no doubt he was dangerous. Her frightened mind could think of nothing but that danger. She blinked.

"Good," the man said, releasing her slowly. If she decided to scream or run, he was close enough to end her. Marna sank to the ground, fear weakening her legs. "Get up. Now," the man growled.

"The… books," Marna managed to whisper, looking at the tomes she had been asked to deliver. "The Inquisitor's… they're for her..."

"Hmph." The man was unimpressed. He seemed to change his mind, though. "Alright, pick them up. That will be our excuse for going to her quarters."

Marna hesitated, but managed to pick up the books and stand again.

"Here," the man said. Marna flinched as he took two of the tomes from her arms. "I'm helping you carry them. Understand?" Marna nodded quickly. If she did as he said, everything would be fine. Right?

"Good. Now go. Remember I am right behind you," the man growled.

Marna nodded again, taking a few shaking steps toward the stairs leading to the kitchen. Her mind slowly began working again. What could this violent man want with the Inquisitor? It couldn't be just to talk, could it? Was he… was he going to hurt her?

She hesitated at the door leading into the kitchen. An angry noise from the man pushed her forward. Maybe someone in the kitchen would notice something was wrong? This was a stranger after all.

Marna's hope sank as she saw the kitchen. Only the cook was present. The others must be serving the morning meal to the few soldiers still at Skyhold. Would cook notice?

The cook turned from her chopping board when the door opened. She sighed. "Marna, what now? Who's this?"

Marna let out a breath, starting to hope. "He's – "

The man cut her off. "One of the delivery men. I'm just helping her carry these books," he said. Marna was surprised how pleasant his voice sounded. Beginning to panic again, Marna was struck by an idea.

"Tea!" she exclaimed. Cook looked at her with exasperation. "F-for the Inquisitor. She wants tea," she added, quieter. Cook knew Lavellan didn't like tea. Surely she would notice this was a strange request…

Cook narrowed her eyes in confusion for a second, then threw her hands up. "What business is it of mine if she wants to start drinking tea. She's the glorious Inquisitor, she can have what she wants!" Cook turned from the two, filling a small kettle with tea. She placed the kettle and a teacup and plate on a tray with more force than necessary. "There, take the blighted thing and get out of my kitchen!"

"You take the tray, Marna," the man said, taking the two books from her arms. She looked up at the man, the kitchen's fire throwing enough light for her to see the snarl on his face. She shivered. She did as he said with her head bowed. Was there nothing she could do?

She glanced behind her as she exited the kitchen. The man was a step behind her. He reached up and pushed his hood back. He knew staying hooded indoors would cause suspicion. She caught a glimpse of dark tan skin before looking away.

In the Great Hall, guests were gathered already. Many sat at the tables being served the morning meal, others milled around throughout the hall. With the majority of the army still in the Arbor Wilds, no guards were posted in here. Marna held out hope someone would see them, someone would say something. Her heart sank as they reached the door leading from the Great Hall to the staircase up to the Inquisitor's quarters. Marna looked down at the tray as the man reached around her and pushed open the door. She thought she saw a tattoo on the arm reaching from beneath his cloak. She stepped through and the man followed, closing the door behind them.

As they climbed the stairs, Marna began to hope again. It had been more than an hour, had it not? The Inquisitor must surely already be meeting with her advisers in the War Room, yes?

Thinking this, Marna knocked on the door into the Inquisitor's quarters. Two soft and two loud, out of habit. She immediately berated herself. She should have knocked differently, so the Inquisitor would at least be more alert! But she wouldn't be there, right?

"Come in, Marna!" came Lavellan's voice. Marna's heart sank, and tears began to well in her eyes.

The Inquisitor trusted her… and she was bringing a dangerous stranger right to her room.