This is the next story of my little Morrigan/Leliana-series, making it the sequel to 'An exception to the Rules' and 'Speak the words', which you should have read to really make much sense of this one...

It's set in 9:37, months after the events of DA2, but before Inquisition and 'Asunder'/'The Masked Empire'.

A fair warning though (to prevent from potential disappointment): This one is fairly different from the other two as it is the first one that does not focus on romance. It's essentially Morrigan's solo-play, telling the story (or my take on it) of how she came to become Celene's advisor. Thus it is a story about court intrigue, schemes - and the Orlesian game and how Morrigan settles in. The Morrigan/Leliana-romance is frequently referenced, but Leliana's presence is mainly reduced to thoughts and memories in Morrigan's head. Don't worry: I will naturally return to writing more romantic stories with them as well, but I decided to leave this path for now for as a change of pace.

I hope you'll give it a chance anyway :-)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of this characters (they all belong to Bioware, which is a good thing) and I don't profit in any way from this story – it's just a little fan fantasy.

Entrée

Silence.

Well, not utter silence, of course. The day Val Royeaux fell into absolute silence would be the day after it had been burnt down – and there were doubts about even that.

Yet, the night over the garden of the Imperial Palace did have an aura of little known serenity and calmness. Not the faintest breeze that might have set the leaves of the trees rustling. The music that had filled the actual palace building hours ago had now long died away. Even the single bird sitting on the massive wall around the building seemed unwilling to disturb the silence with as much as a caw.

And so the full moon graciously offered a dim light to illumine the pompous palace garden where exotic flowers and plants were spending their fairly short lives in bloom before dying in a maybe a fortnight or so – for they obviously weren't made for a climate such as this despite the nobility's effort to make it appear so.

That statues and busts of long dead rulers were another matter. Not only would they endure, no, just in case someone might not get the message they also had their fair share of counterparts in front of the palace as well as on the inside – depicting the very same rulers if only in a slightly different pose or wearing a different mask or outfit. Because Maker forbid, that any of Empress Merise's dresses might have been lost in the mists of history – or the fact that Kordillus Drakon II. did look just as glorious when raising his right hand as he did when raising his left.

Yet another display of Orlesian decadence – expensive, arrogant and pointless.

It would have been considered a curious maybe even scandalous thought, had it come from the woman promenading through the garden. After all, even on a lonely stroll in the middle of the night a certain dignity and respect for her own cultural heritage was what one might expect from the Celene, Empress of Orlais, first of her name. Even thinking such inappropriate thoughts could be a dangerous game.

Luckily for Celene, these musings were not hers.

They belonged to the bird.

Or, more precisely, they belonged to the woman who currently was that bird.

This is a place designed to manifest Orlesian hubris. A place of immense wealth, foolish ignorance and delusions of grandeur.

Morrigan would have smiled if her current form had any lips.

'tis perfect.

And so, as the Empress of the Orlesian Empire finally reached the part of the garden lined by the statues of Celene's oh-so-important predecessors – the part of the garden, which would take her out of the view of those guards at the balcony – the bird finally decided to leave its position.

Her descend was timed perfectly, of course, going down at a non-threatening distance, yet close enough that Celene would under no circumstances miss the moment Morrigan shifted.

"Well, well, 'tis a nice night for a little stroll alone, is it not?" She was satisfied with the casualness of her voice. Less so with the effect on the woman in front of her: if the Empress was surprised – and she had to be – she did not show in the least.

"Not as alone as one might think," Celene sighed, her eyes fixed on Morrigan intently, "With all these guards around the place there hardly seems much pricacy, don't you think?"

Morrigan smiled.

You do feel very safe, do you not? Well, let us see what happens when I take that away.

"Oh, the ones hiding behind the statues? Do not worry, Your Radiance, they shall not disturb us for a while. Miraculously, they all fell asleep at the same moment."

"How unfortunate."

Morrigan had hoped for a little twitch at the corner of Celene's mouth. Again she was disappointed. Maybe it was that fancy mask, but the Empress' face remained utterly composed, as if a woman suddenly appearing in front of her in the middle of a night and telling her that all her protectors were currently incapacitated was no more surprising or threatening than a servant offering her wine. Maybe even less than that.

'They say that even the Empress herself has undergone bard training in her youth', Leliana had once told her, not without a certain highly confusing sense of pride echoing in those words. Morrigan had always wondered why people would do that: almost boasting when talking about how some famous person had one tiny little detail in common with them. Did they think this somehow formed a secret bond between the person in question and themselves? Did they consider their own status elevated by approximation? It all seemed so foolish. Then again: Leliana could be quite the fool every now and then. Or at least seem like one. Even after all these years, it was hard to tell from time to time...

Morrigan brushed the thought away. Thinking about her lover was prone to distract her from the current situation. Thoughts about Leliana being a fool would lead to thoughts about Leliana being so much more – and that would irresistibly leading to thoughts about other things. A touch, a kiss, a gentle...

Enough. Focus, you fool! Concentrate on the matter at hand.

And the matter at hand happened to be a decidedly underwhelmed Empress in front of her. "So?", Celene inquired raising an eyebrow.

For a moment, Morrigan was lost. "So...what?"

"That is what I am asking you, mysterious stranger. After all, you were the one suggesting that my faithful, yet untimely tired guards shall not disturb us for a while. Disturb us from what, I wonder?"

...and suddenly she is in charge of the conversation. Blasted, she is good! I underestimated her despite the warnings. Better not make that mistake twice.

"Well, most likely you would be aware that there are certain..." Morrigan began, leaving a pause for effect, "...rumors. Rumors, suggesting that you might have taken an interest in knowledge not obtained easily."

She deliberately left out the words 'arcane', 'forbidden' and 'dangerous'. No need to be this blunt with an Orlesian, especially not with this one. Celene would know what she was talking about.

Of course she wouldn't admit to that openly: "Interesting. I wonder where such rumors might come from?"

She could easily have told the Empress that she had heard them on more than one occasion, all around the city. But for a moment Morrigan was tempted to speak of the other source – just out of curiosity if it would finally invoke any reaction on that stony face. 'Because the Left Hand of the Divine happens to be my lover. And yes: I am what you most likely would call maleficar. How is that for a scandal?' was bound to be something even the Empress would not hear frequently, was it not? After a moment of contemplation, Morrigan decided that the look on Celene's face would not be worth the potential trouble.

How unfortunate.

"'tis of no importance. What is, however, is whether there might be some truth in these rumors?"

"Of no importance? I might object. Sometimes the messenger might be just as important as the message itself." The faintest hint of a smile showed on Celene's facial features. Self-satisfaction? Arrogance? "A lesson you might want to learn."

Definitely self-satisfaction then. She thinks she has the upper hand. Good. Useful.

Morrigan intended to leave her the illusion and nodded: "Yes, Your Radiance. 'tis true. I shall remember that."

The Empress seemed satisfied with that and went on: "At least you have mastered a bit of etiquette. And your entrance was impressive." Morrigan would have to take Celene's word on that. If the Empress had been impressed, well, her composure did not give away any of it. "So, let us, for the moment, assume that these shocking rumors – while, most likely, being twisted and distorted versions of the truth – might not be completely wrong: Would that entail that you could provide such deeper knowledge?"

Morrigan suppressed a smile.

I got her.

"Indeed 'twould be my honor to serve in such a way, Your Radiance."

"Let us, for the moment, assume that I might be interested in such services. Naturally, it would not be befitting to bestow any official position on someone who entered my palace uncalled and unofficial in the middle of the night – even if such a 'visit' was non-violent due to the conveniently absent guards. Would you not agree?"

"Yes, Your Radiance. 'twould certainly not be...befitting."

"Good. If, however, this little 'visit' never happened and if, let us say, the day after tomorrow a woman of minor rank going by the name of...?" She made a gesture with her hands towards the witch.

"Morrigan, Your Radiance."

"An interesting name." The Empress made a pause, which left unsaid whether the name was indeed interesting to her for any specific reason...or just in terms of the mere sound of it. "I think 'Lady Rione d'Alyons' would make a better fit, would you not?"

"You expect me to change my name?"

"For the time being. Neither you nor I would benefit from giving your real name until I have decided to actually make you part of the court."

The message was clear.

She has not decided yet. Better not test her patience. At least not for now...

"I see," Morrigan replied, not happy at all. "But why d'Alyons?"

"A minor Marquisate in the far west. Real enough to not raise any suspicions, unimportant enough to not justify the need for any further inquiries."

In case my background story should have any inconsistencies. I see. She certainly is a smart one.

"Now, " Celene continued, "Let us assume that Lady Rione d'Alyons would indeed appear in front of the palace the day after tomorrow and request an audience: It would only be suitable to grant her hospitality for a few days, given her long journey in these dangerous times. During these days, she and I might get the chances for a few conversations and get to know each other better than during a midnight walk in the garden. Should I be content with what I learn about her by then, there might be a good chance that – in a few weeks' time – I might present a new arcane advisor, Lady Morrigan, to the court. Now, does that sound agreeable?"

Even through the eyes of the mask, Celene's eyes looked questioning – a tiny bit. It was a rhetorical question, of course. It would have to happen like this...or not at all. Morrigan had expected more, but in retrospect she could not justify why.

What did you expect? That she'd just take you in because of that little trick with the shape-shifting? She didn't get that throne for being gullible.

"'tis agreeable, Your Radiance." Despite all the training beforehand, the title still did not roll over her tongue smoothly – but she hoped it would be enough that it was there at the end of every other sentence. That was how nobility worked in Orlais, right?

"Splendid. Now let us end this conversation, which never happened, shall we?"

"That would be wise, Your Radiance."

Just as Morrigan was about to turn around, Celene's voice spoke up once more. "Lady Morrigan? I certainly expect that Lady Rione d'Alyons will also be suitably dressed when appearing."

Morrigan suppressed a grunt, certain that it wouldn't be the last one in the upcoming days. "Yes, Your Radiance," she replied, "She most certainly will be."

She shifted again well before a sigh escaped her lips. 'Suitably dressed' – that, too, was how nobility worked in Orlais. And as the night became calm and quite again, a single bird took to the sky above the Imperial Palace, flying away from a conversation that never happened.

The door did, as always, open without any sound, yet Celene noticed it noneteless. As always. She did not bother to look up from the desk in her personal chamber when the full-length mirror, which conveniently covered the hidden door, moved aside.

"It took you a while," she muttered while concentrating on making the quill pour the words on the paper in her delicate handwriting.

"I am sorry for that, but it was that young servant again. We just keep running into each other 'accidently'."

Celene smiled and put the quill away as she looked up to the woman approaching her: "He must be quite inventive to arrange that."

In truth, there was no way that the young man would be able to 'accidentally run' into Briala if she didn't allow him to, no matter how inventive he might be. The reason Briala let him was simply because it might have been more suspicious if she actively avoided him.

"Should I be worried now? Jealous?" The Empress' voice was warm and gentle – and only Briala would have spotted the suppressed chuckle in that statement. It almost turned into a giggle when Briala planted a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Only if you wish so, Your Radiance."

They had talked about this before. It might be necessary for her beloved Bria to have a little crush on someone again. After all, the last time the Empress' handmaid had officially been seen with someone was suspiciously long ago. Some might already start to wonder what the pretty, young elf girl was waiting for so long. The young man might be able to put an end to any suspicions. Even if it would – of course – in the end turn out to be an unfulfilled love affair. Probably because one day the handsome servant would simply vanish, being called home to attend to his sick mother or being discreetly let go for some mistake he had made the day before. Something like that. Poor Briala would of course be left behind heartbroken, unable to 'ever love again'. And the other servants would turn their attention towards some new, more fruitful gossip. There was always gossip in the Imperial Palace.

And she will be mine forever.

It was a comforting thought in these troubled times. Bria was always there – and that was all that Celene needed. All it took to make her move on. She inhaled the sweet familiar scent of her beloved as Briala bowed over her shoulder to take a curious look at the parchment paper.

"Filling out the list for the next weeks, I see." Bria noted. Naturally, palace business let little room for surprised. Most audiences were requested long before by letter. Celene would make a list of those that would be welcome in the upcoming days and weeks – and who would receive a polite letter, putting them off for another month...or year. "I imagine Lady Rione is already on it?"

Celene nodded. Of course she was. Neither at the beginning, nor at the end of the list – or in any other position where it would stand out. Just some insignificant name right between other insignificant names.

"You saw her little entrance there." It was not a question, naturally. She knew that Briala had been watching from somewhere, knew that the woman named Morrigan would have been in for a little surprise if she had tried something inappropriate. Well, something more inappropriate than approaching the Empress of Orlais alone in the dark in the middle of the night, anyway. "What do you think? Did she speak true about the guards?"

"Yes, she did. All sound asleep. Otherwise unharmed, though." Briala turned around and took a nip from the glass of wine on the desk that stood right next to Celene's. Already filled, of course. "As far as her performance goes: It was...interesting. Shape-shifting is not exactly something that could be considered ordinaire. Not even something I'd expect Madame de Fer being capable of – otherwise she's have bragged about it already."

Again Celene nodded in agreement. "Indeed. So: Definitely not Circle, this one?"

"Most definitely," Briala confirmed, frowning as if some thought had entered her mind. "The name is interesting. Morrigan."

"It does sound somehow familiar."

"Yes, it does. It appears in some of the stories being told about the Fifth Blight. At least some sources mention a woman named Morrigan – or something alike – among Lady Cousland's followers. Information beyond that is rare, though. Depending on the rumor she was either a powerful Tevinter magister, a witch, a Fereldan bloodmage or an apostate escaped from the Circle in the turmoil of Enchanter Uldred's bloody rebellion."

"Witch seems most likely then, no?"

A frown appeared on Bria's otherwise smooth forehead. "We should not rule out any of the other, to be on the safe side. And it's not really sure if she really is this Morrigan. But I agree: It would fit."

"It would indeed make her useful," Celene said.

"If she is the type that can be used," Briala replied doubtfully.

A laugh escaped Celene – what an increasingly rare sound that had become in the past months. "Yes, indeed. She does not strike me as the kind who would allow that with ease. Yet it is always possible to buy loyalty when offering benefits in return."

She looked up to Briala again and smiled. "You should be glad, no? Your plan worked as efficient as predicted – even more so. We expected the rumors to get me one. Now I got two to choose from."

"Neither of whom you can actually trust, Celene."

The Empress sighed at the barely hidden concern in her voice. This? Again?

Laying the quill aside for good, Celene rose from her chair and turned towards her Beloved. Why would I need to look for someone to trust? I have you.

Tenderly, she cupped Briala's face with her hands, the smooth sensation of the familiar warm skin slowly making her own blood boil. "We have been over this, Bria, no?" she purred, planting a kiss own her lips. "I may need an edge if I want to be ready for the things to come. Gaspard will not be idle for long – and ever since Kirkwall, we both know how important it will become to have a powerful mage ally in the sleeve."

She could feel Briala's pulse racing, yet her voice remained steady. "And you are sure Madame de Fer will not suffice in that regard?"

"Lady Vivienne's resources, considerable as they may be, do have limits when it comes to less...usual kinds of magic. Besides that, she has become fairly comfortable in her position. It might do her some good to learn that the court won't rely on her alone. That she is not indispensable."

Bria's resistance was fading, of course. They had been over this, after all. And there were so much more...enjoyable things to do in the precious little private time they had. "So, now you have two. Any idea, who you will choose yet?" was all she managed between kisses.

"Why, I choose you, Bria," Celene smiled – and she knew the look in her eyes would confirm that. "All else...we shall see about that."

As she gently pushed her beloved into bed, all other thoughts faded. The witch, the other one – that was a decision for another time.

We shall see what the next days will bring.