Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Dragon Age Universe. I will, however, lay claim to several original characters that show up.

Notes: This is a bit of a tester chapter - to get a feel for the characters and audience interest. As such, comments and reviews will be especially helpful. Thank you!

M is for language and adult themes.

Act I

The Grand Cathedral of Orlais was everything the Chantry could represent to everyone. The pristine white walls embodied purity and strength. Its mighty twin towers, visible for miles in every direction of Val Royeaux, were beacons for the faithful. The beautiful architecture and luxurious decor praised the Maker by embodying him and his beloved in a fittingly glorious abode. Once everything was combined, however, the overall impression seemed to become one massive 'Fuck You Tevinter.'

Inquisitor Trevelyan had never been to Minrathous but Dorian had once confessed that the Argent Spire – home of the Black Divine – didn't have a stitch on the Grand Cathedral. 'You see, silvery metal and obsidian are all well and good on armor but don't really inspire thoughts of peace and heavenly reward. I was put more in the mind of your typical mad warlord fortress, or perhaps a high end bondage brothel.' The Tevinter mage's words repeated in her mind and she forced herself to NOT remember the rest of that conversation. The debate of what exactly constituted bondage had been an entertaining subject to pass the time on the road but she was reasonably certain it wasn't appropriate in the halls of the seat of the Divine. Even thinking the word was probably a damning offense.

To distract herself she studied the massive murals and paintings that adorned the walls they were passing. Andraste escaping slavery (in Tevinter). Her rise as Prophet of the Maker. Andraste leading the first Exalted March (on Tevinter). The burning pyre of her martyred death (once again, in Tevinter). Yes, definitely detecting a theme. Eve's eyebrow twitched in amusement as she wondered if there wasn't a final painting being stored somewhere that depicted the Maker's thumb coming down to squash the Imperium like a bug. No, that one was probably in the Most Holy's private quarters.

"Skyhold really should commission some artwork." The Inquisitor commented aloud as she continued onto the murals that were less 'Fuck Tevinter' and more 'Kill all Darkspawn.' Every so often there'd be a beatific depiction of one of the Divines engaging in some heartwarming act of mercy or wisdom but then the swords appeared again.

Cassandra, who'd been walking silently at her side, followed Trevelyan's eyes and quickly surmised her line of thought.

"Perhaps a series of paintings depicting the victories and conquests of the Inquisition?" the Nevarran posited in the clipped cadences of her native tongue, delicately softened from many years of service in Orlais.

"Just what I was thinking. But I don't know if any artist could do you justice naked." Eve let her eyes slide towards the Seeker, doing her damnedest not to smile too soon. Cassandra was so much easier to fluster when she thought her lover was being serious. Sadly, she'd quickly learned to not take anything the Inquisitor said seriously.

"I shudder to think of such a painting existing. You would likely hang it in your quarters." The brunette easily shot back, refusing to rise to the bait.

Eve nodded thoughtfully at the argument. Maker's breath, it's getting harder and harder to make her blush these days! She allowed herself the mental complaint. It wasn't so much that she cared about making the woman uncomfortable or enjoyed torturing her (much) but the way the color spread across her face was Eve's favorite sight. It was so reminiscent of the flush that consumed her face during other, more private activities.

"Only because I would have to kill anyone else that saw it. You could be the undoing of the entire Inquisition." Trevelyan caught the Seeker's hand and used it to pull the warrior closer to her side as they walked. Scrupulously discreet anytime they were in public it felt indulgent even to touch.

"Careful, Inquisitor. The walls have eyes." Cassandra cautioned but the gravity of her words couldn't disguise the affectionate tolerance in her tone. Or the subtle, lingering caress of her thumb along the back of Eve's hand.

"If they didn't before they do now. Leliana probably has a legion of spies peering out through each of these paintings." Trevelyan agreed, squinting at the oil and canvas as though she might see still eyes blink back.

"That would be shrewd. She will be an excellent Divine. I am glad we're here for the enthronement." Sincerity warmed the words. The Seeker might have also been nominated for the sunburst throne but there wasn't even a trace of jealousy or resentment in her expression when she'd congratulated the future Divine Victoria.

Eve hummed a quiet agreement, recalling the many hours she'd spent trying to find out if Cassandra was disappointed in anyway to be passed over. She'd asked many times; shortly after the appointment was announced, again when she found out the Right Hand would no longer be needed, then before Leliana left for Val Royeaux, and after . . .By the sixth time the Inquisitor worriedly asked if the woman was really ok with losing the opportunity to shape the Chantry's future Cassandra had lost her patience. She'd tossed Eve to the wood floor of her quarters over the forge, pinning her down and explaining very clearly that she was perfectly happy with her fate and thankful for the future she'd been given. She then made Eve thankful too – thoroughly and noisily.

"Skyhold must be quiet with so many of us here. How long will it take?" Trevelyan eyed the massive double doors at the end of the hall, finally within sight. How long did these corridors need to be? Were they using them for horse races?

"The initial rite is brief, followed by the reading of the Chant of Light and then the full enthronement ceremony. I imagine many of our friends will only be present for a portion." The Seeker shrugged noncommittally.

"That depends – is there a buffet? You know our people and food." Eve chuckled. While Iron Bull and Varric could put a distillery out of business they weren't half as bad as Sera. The elf seemed to be on a constant mission to make herself sick yet had never once succeeded. Perhaps the riotously offensive burps were a preventative measure? Then there was Cole. Eve had actually caught him pocketing sweet biscuits at the last banquet. Cole! Who had never eaten or drank in his life up to a few months ago. The spirit-turned-flesh undoubtedly had a very solid, absolutely brilliant and completely bizarre reason for his hoarding but she'd simply stopped asking. It was easier to just trust him. Sera, on the other hand, was now carefully watched. She'd eaten a pearl necklace, for Maker's sake! Just because it happened to have been on the dessert table . . .

They reached the doors to the grand hall/throne room and Trevelyan reached for the handle but a gentle pressure on her other hand stopped her short. She turned in askance, perplexed by the sudden hesitation. Was there resentment after all? Some doubt that Cassandra hadn't confessed? The various flashing emotions in her hazel eyes were still a challenge for the Inquisitor to read and she cursed every time she faced the fathomless confusion of that gaze. Before she could launch into a hundred worried questions a tiny smirk graced the Nevarran beauty's lips and she leaned in to press a quick but tender kiss to her cheek. Instinctively, the Inquisitor lifted a hand to touch the tingling skin of her face, surprised by the unexpected display of affection.

"The first time I kissed anyone was here in the Grand Cathedral. I would prefer to remember such a moment with you." The Seeker casually explained. The twitch of her fingers – straining to keep from clenching too tight – confessed her unease.

Eve's mind filled with a dozen reactions. From total shock that Cassandra had been bold enough to kiss anyone in this holy a place to horror that her first kiss had been in so sterile an environment to a momentary jealousy that she'd kissed someone else. The thoughts all begged for access to her tongue but ultimately there was only one that deserved to be expressed.

"Cassandra," the Inquisitor shook her head in quiet wonder before quickly grabbing the other warrior and pulling her close, "That doesn't count as a kiss."

The Seeker's mouth was claimed before she could object. The touch of luxuriant softness against her lips erased any arguments and all too easily she molded herself to the familiar embrace. The trade of caresses was silent but for the occasional, gentle sigh until Eve finally pulled back, mournfully brushing her thumb over a plush lower lip.

"NOW you've had a kiss in the Grand Cathedral." She smirked, noting the color that had subtly risen on the other woman's cheeks. Maybe that could be her new favorite look.

In the Divine Chamber of the cathedral, at the far end of the room, stands the Sunburst Throne. On its raised dais, the seat of the Divine is at once magnificent and humble. Towering twice as tall as a man, the rich, dark wood radiates strength and power yet is unadorned. No jewels or rich ore, no elaborate inscriptions or florid designs. Only one large symbol, the golden sun, is carved upon it as a crest.

This divine seat has stood empty since the death of Justinia V, shrouded in black and mourning the tragedy. The crowd that now filled the room deliberately avoided stealing glances at the soon to be occupied throne. The dark shrouds of sadness had been stripped off and the wood gleamed with fresh polishing, nearly glowing in anticipation. Leliana watched with a hint of amusement as each successive ambassador, noble and cleric that greeted her furtively eyed the seat. She had deliberately not even set a foot on the dais, staying on the same level as the many visitors and dignitaries that had come for the ceremony. Small gestures could become powerful symbols.

The doors of the chamber were daily oiled into silence but Sister Nightingale could always feel the subtle stir of air that meant they'd opened to admit more guests. A quick darting glance brought a genuine smile to her lips; the Inquisitor had arrived, at last. That meant her special invitees were all assembled.

"Marquis, a pleasure as always." Leliana easily greeted the latest noble to stand before her, a man who looked as oily as the silent hinges. The tiniest movement of her eyebrow was enough to tell the initiate at her side what to do. The young sister slipped through the crowd of subdued noise and garish color to intercept Eve and Cassandra before anyone could even notice their presence. They were whisked away through an almost invisible door in the far corner, assured that the Most Holy-to-be had more specific plans for them.

With her allies safely gathered Leliana could feel invisible weight slipping from her shoulders. Not much – not with the whole of the Chantry about to be put in her hands – but enough that she could bear to continue smiling at strangers a little longer.