Author's Note: I'm fairly certain this would be the inevitable sequel to the excruciatingly awkward scene where you turn down Josephine (seriously, I had to put the remote down and lay on the couch with a pillow over my head for ten minutes, wallowing in my own guilt).

Struck by a moment of nauseating unease, the Inquisitor hesitated before a large, bolted door, with one closed fist raised and resting upon its wood. With a frown, the Inquisitor breathed in deeply - the air was cold and damp - and proceeded to knock. The heavy door swung open barely after the second rap, releasing warm air and the faint aroma of salt, and revealing Leliana, who stood in the doorway with an indecipherable expression. The spymaster was dressed in her usual garb, and her eyes widened as she took in the Inquisitor.

"Inquisitor, what a pleasant surprise!" she exclaimed, placing her hands behind her back. "I thought you were too busy to dine with me this evening."

"Well, you know, it's the strangest thing," replied the Inquisitor, raising a brow at Leliana. "As you might recall, I was forced to decline the invitation you issued me this afternoon, on account of a previous engagement."

"Oh yes," Leliana smiled, tilting her head. "If I remember correctly, you were to attend a soirée at the Thibault's."

"Yes, exactly. However, just a few minutes ago, I received word that the soirée had been cancelled. Apparently, the entire family has been overcome with illness."

"How terrible!"

"Indeed. They suspect food poisoning."

"Well," Leliana turned slightly, enough so that her hood obscured the Inquisitor's view of her face, "that is not so strange. Even ignoring the chaos of the civil war, the life of an Orlesian noble is a dangerous one. Assassination is rarely an open and violent matter; food and poison provide a more subtle approach, and ensure one's hands are not bloodied."

As if she could feel the scrutiny of the Inquisitor's gaze, Leliana turned back with a friendly smile. "But surely there are lighter topics of conversation. Please, come and take a seat. We have much to discuss over dinner."

"I'd never realised how eerie this wing is at night. In fact, where is everyone? I don't think there's anyone else here, aside from you and I."

"I hadn't noticed. Aren't you going to eat something, Your Worship?"

"Hmm?" replied the Inquisitor, glancing down at an empty plate. Noticing that Leliana's plate was also devoid of food, the Inquisitor cast a wary glance around the dinner table. Surrounding a central candlestick were a variety of colourful platters, containing all manner of food.

"Having trouble deciding?" inquired Leliana.

The Inquisitor laughed. "You read my mind."

The spymaster reached toward a large pot and picked up the ladle lying at its side. While scooping two spoonfuls of steaming soup into a bowl, she suggested, "Then might I recommend the soup. I am told that it is a blend of Antivan and Ferelden spices, balancing rich heartiness with a bold, refreshing flavour. Our chefs inform me that it is simply to die for."

The Inquisitor responded with a tight smile. "Thank you."

A nearby servant stepped forward to attend to the request. The pot, which was currently out of the Inquisitor's reach, was brought down to the opposite side of the table. The servant filled a bowl with the soup, and placed it near the Inquisitor.

"I still can't believe all this was prepared so quickly," said the Inquisitor, watching the servant warily, and with a laugh, continued, "Why, it's almost as if you knew I was coming, and prepared the meal in advance."

"The men and women under our command are most eager to serve you, Inquisitor. Their speed and dedication is a reflection upon your leadership, I'm sure."

"It's as the mistress says, Your Worship," said the servant, chiming in.

After a pause, the Inquisitor murmured, "You're too kind."

"Thank you, Gelsi," Leliana said. "You can leave us now."

Gelsi nodded politely and turned to leave the room.

The Inquisitor listened as the door shut, and the muffled footsteps thereafter grew faint. When all was quiet, and the pair were truly alone, the feeling of nauseating unease began to sweep over the Inquisitor once more. A glance at Leliana's face did little to ease the Inquisitor's concerns.

The lone candlestick in the centre of their dining table was struggling to even light up the surrounding food, and did not quite reach Leliana's face. Every so often, however, a persistent flicker would illuminate Leliana's eyes, revealing a frosty and watchful expression. After a few moments of silence, the Inquisitor picked up a spoon and began twirling it.

"So... you and I get along well, don't we, Leliana?"

Leliana lifted her spoon and dipped it delicately into her soup. "Quite well, Inquisitor."

"And you consider me a friend?"

Leliana leaned forward into the dim light and, holding the Inquisitor's gaze, blew lightly on the spoonful.

"I do," she finally replied, and placed the spoon in her mouth.

The Inquisitor breathed out silently, and, following the spymaster's example, took a spoonful of the soup. As soon as the liquid had reached the Inquisitor's lips, Leliana continued, "Is there a point to this line of questioning, Your Worship?"

"Well, I consider you a friend, too. And as a friend, I... wanted you to know, that I would never let any harm befall you. I was wondering if we felt similarly."

"Ah, I see. You wanted to know if your affection was reciprocated. In the appropriate platonic manner, of course."

At this, the Inquisitor began to choke, and was soon blinded by tears. After a moment of spluttering, the Inquisitor choked out, "I suppose so, yes."

Leliana dipped her head forward, and her smile became lost in the shadows.

"Ahem, excuse me. Anyway, didn't you have something you wanted to discuss?"

"I did, in fact. You remember the discussion we had, the other day?"

"Which one?"

"About our Ambassador."

The Inquisitor swallowed thickly.

"Well, yes, I did speak with Josephine after our discussion. And, like I told you, you were reading too much into the whole situation."

"Was I?"

"Yes. She agreed that what you said about us was absolutely ridiculous."

"Is that right?"

"I mean," said the Inquisitor, wiping a brow, "there was a moment where she may have implied... but she said that she never thought my intentions were romantic. Hmm, or did she say 'overly' romantic?"

Leliana leaned back and crossed her arms.

"Anyway," the Inquisitor continued, suddenly feeling quite hot, despite the candelight growing thinner by the moment, "then I asked if we were still friends, and she said she was glad that we had settled everything, and—and everything worked out, and it wasn't awkward in the slightest."

"You turned her down."

"What? No, she never said—"

"Don't be a fool, Inquisitor," Leliana interrupted, leaning forward pointedly. "Josie keeps her cards close to her chest; she never plays the first move if she can help it, as you are well aware."

Each had now finished their meals, and the rest of the food was growing cold. The shadows grew taller and more chaotic as the flame fought for its last few minutes. In the Inquisitor's mind, faces and knives seemed to dance along the walls.

"Leliana," said the Inquisitor, almost whispering, "I never meant any harm."

"Oh, I know that," the spymaster shrugged. "Besides, it is not my place to meddle in your personal affairs."

A pause. "Really?"

"Of course. What," Leliana replied, laughing now, "were you expecting me to seek revenge on you for slighting my dear friend?"

The Inquisitor joined Leliana with a nervous laugh. "Well, I..."

"Did you think I would launch an elaborate scheme, persuade you to dine with me on the night the Inquisition announced free drinks at the tavern — thanking everyone at Skyhold for their hard work and dedication to the cause — and thus ensuring the stronghold would be empty?"

The Inquisitor blinked. "What?"

"And when I discovered you would not be present, instead gallivanting around at some party, have my agents infiltrate the host's estate, where they would slip spider ichor into their food, and ensure your plans would be cancelled?"

"You're not seriously saying..."

"And the last part would be easy: I would tease you, drop hints, even warn you beforehand, just so I could watch you sweat. You would cling to the hope that you could prevent it, because you thought you knew what was coming. You see, my plan worked perfectly, Inquisitor. Every piece of food and drink at this table has been poisoned. I'll wager you're starting to feel the effects now."

"But—but you ate the same thing I did! You would poison yourself, just to punish me!?"

Leliana laughed and stood up from her seat. "You forget: I was a bard for many years. I trained myself, built up immunity to many poisons, dedicated myself to the Game."

The Inquisitor, whose heartbeat was accelerating at an alarming rate, gripped the edges of the seat.

"Otherwise," Leliana continued, stepping silently towards the Inquisitor, "right now, my heart would be beating violently, in an attempt to fight off the toxin. I would be sweating profusely. My throat would be growing tight."

The Inquisitor's eyes widened, and, feeling utterly helpless, rasped, "But... Leliana..."

"I warned you. Josephine is a far better person than you could ever be, yet you slighted her. You thought you were better than her. Now, you will suffer."

With eyes sharper than any dagger, the spymaster leaned over the Inquisitor. The two held each other's gaze for several moments. Time passed, but Leliana made no move; the Inquisitor's pounding heart began to slow, and a hint of an impish smirk began to creep from the corner of the spymaster's mouth.

"You... you're having me on, aren't you?"

Leliana's expression transformed in a heartbeat, and soon, she began to giggle.

"Are you kidding me? Are you—this was a prank!?" the Inquisitor cried, standing up abruptly and pushing away from Leliana, whose giggles were transforming into raucous laughter.

"Did you really think I would kill you, Inquisitor?" Leliana managed between her musical guffaws, while the Inquisitor began circling around the table in large bounds, attempting to shake off the adrenaline.

"Of course I did!" the Inquisitor exclaimed, head buried in sweaty palms. "You're absolutely terrifying!"

"Oh, come now, I just needed to teach you a lesson."

"So there was no poison?"

"Of course not!"

"And the Thibaults?"

"Oh please, Inquisitor, who do you think sent you that letter? It was easy enough to match the penmanship and crest, and our subjects had no reason to distrust a letter which had already been examined by the Inquisition's spymaster."

The Inquisitor began mumbling an incomprehensible string of words, sobs, and outraged cries.

"I told you, Inquisitor: I watch over for my friends. I hope that, for your sake, I will not need to remind you again."