Not too many men wanted a fat girl. The ones that did were crude and stupid. What did your old man say about that? I asked. I never told him. She said. I couldnt break his heart. He died in a car accident my sophomore year. I couldnt even go to the funeral. Do I look like him? I asked. Not looking to be a replacement for what she had lost. Not at all you are taller, stronger, and with much darker hair. I like the beard too. She smiled roguishly. Its you I want, not him. I want you to fuck me like the dirty girl I am. You are beautiful. I said. A little rough around the edges right now, but beautiful and it could be a mistake but I want you too. Xenia laughed and looked at me with wonder and a little fear. I believe you mean that. I dont know why but I believe you. Enough talk for now. Its just a short dash to my back door. I said. Join me in a shower then talk more and do something about some clothes for you. She giggled, I have a valise sitting outside your shop door with. What had appeared to be little more than a strange blob, on first glance, resolved itself into a tiny, surprisingly detailed... Maker preserve us, it’s a nug.Laughing, I tore open the envelope and read the letter I knew could be from no one other than Leliana herself. And it was; she had sent two pages of elegantly swooping calligraphy – embarrassing me with the contrast to my ugly, clunky scrawl – detailing her travels for the past months. She’d gone to Haven initially, with a gaggle of Chantry scholars including Brother Genitivi; when they’d discovered that, as I’d predicted, the ruins were empty, the guardian and urn missing, she’d left the confused group under the guidance of some self-important, political figure named Roderick – a rising star within the Chantry, she’d written, who’d irritated as many people as he’d impressed – and had then gone to Val Royeaux, where she’d commissioned the dress and shoes for me. I smiled down at the smooth fabric draped around me, both amused.