Dragon Age
"The Relic"

Chapter Seven: Shindig

Bree's birthday showed up the same way it had for 16 years; with breakfast in bed. Dorian doted on his daughter. Bought her gifts, horses, trinkets, and clothes but on her birthday as it had been for years before today she was delivered her favorite breakfast by her parents. Khrys actually took over the kitchen to prepare it as well. Bree had grown up knowing that her family wasn't anything like those of Malcolm's or even Cullen's brats, her family was different, she'd always known that. When she got older she was made to understand that Daddy wasn't married to Mommy and even share her bed. She didn't understand fully until Balian and Dorian had begun their relationship, but by then it wasn't an issue. Before Balian there was Bull so it didn't factor for her, it never had, and it never would. On her birthday though, it was the one time that it actually felt like they were the traditional family not the 'blended extended mess' Malcolm called it.

One look at Khrys and Dorian together and even a halfwit could tell that they loved each other deeply but the love wasn't sexual or intimate. Oh, sure, they flirted and teased each other until they were blue in the face but that was the extent of it. When she was five months pregnant her mother got so sick she nearly died of the fever, as the story went, Dorian never left her side for nearly three days as Anders proved his worth as a healer and saved her life.

As much as Bree loved Michel and Balian, it was nice to have it just be the three of them, and every year on her birthday she got just that; Mama and Daddy and breakfast. Michel and Balian knew better than to pitch a fit so both of them honored Bree's wishes and weren't offended.


Skyhold was busy, really busy, the last time the Fortress saw this much activity was during the War, since then it had been fairly quiet even with Council Meetings. This was the first time a meeting landed in disguise, or by simpler terms, coincided with another event. Members of the Council mixed in with people invited to Bree's 'Debutant Ball' made for a madhouse.

To make matters worse, this was a formal event. Josephine took the plans and ran with it creating a formal gathering to make this not only proper but tastefully elegant, as only she could deliver. If Dorian had his way, his daughter would be locked away in a tower so no one could come calling. 'If they don't know she exists, no one will show up.' He liked to say but that only got him dirty looks from Khrys and his daughter.

Everyone was in their finest clothes. Dorian was in a tasteful and dashing highever weave and silk get up that really made him look good. It didn't matter which company he preferred, Dorian's appeal worked on woman as well as men. Fenris was another one people drooled over, his official position next to top agent was Khrys' personal guard, and he was in an all-black tunic with intricate silver Elven patterns on the collar and sleeves. His right hand was also encased in a silverite gauntlet, the whole thing was lyrium infused and crafted like his spiked armor so when he engaged his unique talent he didn't faze right out of his clothes. Black was Fenris' color, even Dorian couldn't help but stare sometimes. The sharp black and the silver pattern contrasted nicely with his sun-kissed skin, lyrium lines, and white hair. He may have been in formal attire but he wasn't there to mingle, he was there to protect Khrys. Unarmed, but Fenris didn't need a weapon to do damage.

Khrys nervously smoothed the waist of her gown as she made her way down the steps from her chambers. She'd elected to dress it up this time rather than wear her usual Inquisition tunic that she wore to the Council Meetings. This was a formal party after all so she kept up the appearance. It felt nice to glam it up on occasion. Sometimes she felt like all she ever did was fight and bark orders, hopefully tonight was going to be peacefully boring.

As she was making her way down Michel was heading up and they met in the hall between the two doors. He froze in mid step and felt his heart started to race. She was gorgeous to put it mildly. Her gown was simple with a flowing skirt and long sleeves. The color was appealing too, a pretty gold color with a lace up bodice; it had white laces and tasteful elven embroidery that matched the white of the laces. Her hair was gathered up into some kind of bun and secured in a way Michel didn't know. She had a lot of long, thick hair, how she managed to get all of it into a bun was something he'd never understand. It left her neck and shoulders bare, he liked that. The only jewelry she wore was the silver necklace that had the Lover's Knot on it, hers to match his, and it settled just under the low rounded collar of the dress.

Michel gulped as he stared at her for a few long, lingering moments. Khrys giggled and the sound made him blink and come back to his senses. "What?" he heard her ask as he continued to look at her unable to figure out how to speak.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Khrystabel," he said recovering well enough from his dumbfounded look.

Khrys' face tinged red as she blushed at his words, her smile was bright and she giggled a little trying not to feel embarrassed by the fact that they weren't alone. Her Templars could hear every word. She couldn't help but examine him in the same manner. He seemed somewhat underdressed as he wore the Inquisition tunic but it didn't diminish the Chevalier one bit. Black looked good on him and he was always a head turner. Women swooned to his blonde hair, kind heart, the accent, even to his scars…the souvenirs from Gaspard. But it Khrys the best of it all…Michel was all hers. She purred in approval as he offered her his hand. "My handsome Chevalier, black suits you, Vhenan," she praised and he snorted as she hooked her arm around his left.

"You are the fifth person to say that this evening," he replied, "and the only one I care to hear it from."

Khrys nearly melted but she straightened herself as they walked down the steps together. "Only five?" she asked and heard him snort.

The door to the hall opened and revealed the totally decked out Main Hall. There was no way Skyhold could match anything that Orlais could produce or even Fereldan, this was a Fortress after all not a parlor. Rustic and grand and there was already a considerable amount of people.

"Lady Inquisitor Khrystabel Lavellan and Ser Michel de Chevin," the herald announced.

For a moment Michel's thoughts dwelled on her last name, what he wouldn't give for her to introduced as Khrystabel de Chevin, he didn't ask because it made her uncomfortable but he clung to the hope that one day she'd be more receptive.

"You're tense," she commented quietly so only he could hear. "are you okay?"

He was tense but not only because he was thinking of asking her to marry him again, Gaspard was supposed to be in attendance, and that made him tense. Yes, Gaspard pardoned him. Yes, his secret was still kept from the Chevaliers, but it unnerved him all the same. Gaspard could destroy him with a word, it nagged at him and although he knew the Emperor wouldn't betray his promise to him it was still a gambit with a high price. If the Chevaliers knew who he really was they'd strip his name from the ranks and execute him. "Never did like attending parties." Not entirely a lie but Khrys seemed to accept it as face value.

Khrys turned her head to his ear and drew dangerously close to the point he could feel her breath tickling him. "Relax, Vhenan, you'll be rewarded later for your patience."

Michel almost said something to that when the undertones of her sentence caught up and he closed his mouth with a sharp single nod. The promise of that was enough to make him do just about anything; he'd learned a lot over the years especially how to handle soirees. He didn't like all the people but he did like that Khrys seemed to have fun at them and she did look beautiful in those gowns.

Michel had never shaken the bodyguard in him, just as he did with Celene; he always surveyed the room looking for dangers, suspicious people, anything that might pose a threat. He wasn't Khrys' bodyguard but he would die to protect her. The duties of the bodyguard fell to Fenris when he wasn't out on a mission. The Elf was a fine guard at that, absolutely deadly with or without a weapon, Michel liked him. As his eyes scanned the crowd he found Fenris keeping his distance but evidently vigilant.

"The gold dress, excellent choice, my Dear," Dorian greeted and she smiled at his greeting as Michel snapped back to his job as escort for the beauty on his arm. "You look lovely."

"Thank you," she replied sweetly. "so do you."

Dorian laughed smirking as he did. "I always look lovely, my Dear," he chuckled as Michel barely tried to hide his eye roll. "Ser Michel, a pleasure as always." He winked and this time he made no attempt to hide the eye roll but only succeeded in making Dorian chuckle. "Now, if you don't mind, I wish to steal your lovely lady for a few moments."

It wasn't really a request; it was more of a statement. Dorian knew that Michel would have a watchful eye on the Inquisitor as did Fenris from the sidelines. Security was so tight and there were so many guards present that someone would have to be extremely stupid or Zevran to get in and pull off a hit, and Zevran was in Antiva.


Fenris watched as Dorian took Khrys over to the Fereldan royal family. He bristled again at Lydia, Blood Mage…and the fucking Queen of Fereldan. That offended him to no end but he remained on his best behavior. Years spent in the Inquisition, surrounded by more mages than he could shake a stick at and working with mages taught him to be a little more accepting but his hate of them still burned bright. A mage turned him into what he was now, angry, reclusive, and a nearly unstoppable killer. The markings may have served him well but it was still unsettling. On more than one occasion he'd thought about outing Lydia's well-kept secret, what would happen to her kingdom if they knew just what type of mage they had sitting on their throne? Alistair would have him killed on the spot that was for certain. Despite the thoughts he entertained he kept them to himself, but if Lydia ever stepped out of line he'd be there to make sure she never did it again.

He watched them closely, mainly Lydia, she didn't need to be armed to be dangerous but the beautiful flame haired Warden-Queen had a relaxed air about her, she laughed at something Dorian said and proceeded to compliment Khrys' gown and vice versa. Fenris observed the Queen's purple corset gown and imagined what Khrys would look like in that color. He snapped from his daydream and focused; Alistair carried himself like a soldier but didn't seem to be armed. Duncan, however, the kid had a knife up his left sleeve. Likely a small carving knife tucked far enough under the cuff in a forearm sheath that it couldn't be seen. Fenris allowed a small smile at that, smart Prince.


So far guests were arriving and everything was proceeding without a hitch, the environment was relaxed and friendly with only a handful of people not present yet. Gaspard was fashionably late, although Dorian would have been thrilled if he didn't show up at all, Cassandra was on her way in, and Varric had just arrived.

"Varric," Khrys greeted with a broad, happy grin, "welcome back."

Varric strolled toward her with the swagger that only that dwarf could master. He looked like he owned the place and raised a finger toward her. "What have they done to you, Little One?" he asked and she giggled at his nickname for her. "I leave and they turn you into the pompous nobility, holding Balls and Masquerades…tell me who to shoot."

"Did you bring Bianca with you? I'm sure she'd love the party," Khrys replied and Varric snorted shaking his head.

"Nah, she hates all the frilly dresses and stuffed shirts," he said as they continued their little game.

"Well, it's good that at least you came," she nodded, satisfied with that.

"For Bree's 16th? Wouldn't miss it. I heard about all the hoopla with people asking for her hand, if nothing else I came to watch Sparkles lose his mind," Varric answered and the pair laughed again.

"Well, he hasn't lost it yet but then again Gaspard hasn't arrived, so there's still time," she informed as Varric gave her an exaggerated gleeful expression.

"Bree's 16th and all aside, I did come for another reason," he said his tone serious now and Khrys gave him her full attention. "It's about Kirkwall and that pious Prince you call an ally." Khrys nearly groaned, over the last 15 years the subject of Varric, Sebastian, and Kirkwall has been the bane of her existence. Varric hated Sebastian and Sebastian had occupied Kirkwall for 15 years. "Now, I know you're gonna take his side because you think you owe him for saving your Clan but damn it, Khrys, the only reason he's still there is because of what Anders did. Anders. Not Kirkwall. We ask him to leave he says no, we fight him, he pushes back."

Khrys had been through this a few times over the years and it all boiled down to the same thing. "Kirkwall doesn't have a stable government, Varric, that's why Starkhaven is still there. Every time he tries to leave it descends back into chaos," she stated, it was the same line Varric had heard over and over again. "Like it or not, we need to Free Marches stable…if Sebastian and his forces bring that stability, fine."

"Oh, come on, Khrys, he's one step off from being a tyrant," Varric stressed, his tone a little more harsh. "He controls over half of the Free Marches…Wycome I get, but Markham…Kirkwall?"

This frustrated her, this topic always frustrated her. She owed Sebastian a huge debt, he never asked for anything in return. She owed Varric; the man saved her life on more than one occasion. The Inquisitor had to remain neutral. "Varric, this is not the time or place to talk about this. Save it for the Council."

Varric scoffed. "Remember the last Council meeting, pirated by Blondie and Choir Boy going at it…the topic of Kirkwall fell by the wayside."

Khrys grumbled, she remembered that. That meeting had been a mess from top to bottom and she hoped against hope that didn't repeat this time. "Varric, look, I know you're upset but please table it for later. Try to relax and have a good time, see the old faces. Anders and Tess are here and I know Tess would love to see you," she offered trying the velvet touch.

Varric scoffed. Tess he'd love to see again, she was a great friend and decent Wicked Grace player and her son Malcolm was a good kid, but Anders…there were lots of things he could call Anders but a friend really wasn't one of them. Not anymore. "Oh, swell, Choir Boy and Blondie in the same room together again, because that won't bite you in the ass," he said sarcastically. "Not to mention Broody and Curly…oh and the Seeker…Khrys, at the end of the night you're either going to have one hell of a story to tell or a huge bloodbath as half the room is going to kill the other half."

"Varric!" Khrys scolded trying to keep her voice down.

"Alright, alright, I'll mingle…but don't say I didn't warn you. When you see Blondie tell him he might want to consider running."


Malcolm cleaned up well, most of the time he ran around in shades of black or brown leather or cloth and a dingy hooded cloak. He spiffed up for this, Bree was his friend and it was her birthday so if formal attire was required then it was formal attire he wore. He opted out of the Inquisition tunic given that he wasn't officially a member yet, that and no one had spoken to his father yet. Khrys only wanted to put out one fire at a time and Anders was going to create more than one during this event.

His hair was slicked back, still wet from the bath, and out of his face, his face was clean with a little stubble growing back and he wore fine clothes provided by Dorian. He selected the outfit with Dorian's help but stuck to his safe colors; he had black trousers, supple black tall boots, a burgundy silk shirt, and a black leather and cloth tunic over top of that. He looked official but not overdressed. Dorian was exasperated when he chose mostly black but Malcolm didn't like the other colors in his wardrobe so he just dealt with it. 'At least you don't look like a servant.' Dorian had commented.

He tapped on the door to Bree's room and heard the response allowing him to enter. Malcolm blinked at the sight of her and looked her up and down. He'd known Bree since they were kids but this was the first time he'd ever felt his heart race like this.

Bree wore a silver and blue silk dress, the dominate color being silver but the bodice and a large swath down the front was royal blue. The gown was from Orlais and was probably a gift but she easily looked ten times better in it than anyone else. Her thick black hair was pulled into a tight side braid that hung down to the middle of her chest.

She turned to face him and there was only one way to describe what he was seeing. She was beautiful. It was like someone opened his eyes for the first time and he cleared his throat trying to figure out what to say. "I uhhh…," he cleared his throat again and she looked at him stumbling over his words with a furrowed brow, "you look…you look beautiful, Bree."

She smiled, blushing at his expression and reaction to her appearance. Malcolm was always Malcolm, she never looked at him the way he was looking at her right now but she found herself not offended by it. Malcolm looked good in what he was wearing; he looked just like his father.

"Thank you," she replied. "You look handsome too…finally out of those dingy clothes."

Malcolm stammered and his normally cool demeanor faltered. "Uhh, yeah…," he blushed and ducked his head trying to hide it. "Your father's…I didn't have anything formal," he admitted, sounding almost embarrassed about it.

Bree's smile put him at ease and she stepped up to him smoothing his tunic. "You look great," she smiled. It was a blessing that Malcolm and her father were close to the same build even if Malcolm wasn't quite as filled out as Dorian.

He gave her a half smile and remembered why he had been sent. "I believe they are waiting for you," he said and her face brightened.

"You get to escort me?" she asked sounding overjoyed about that as Malcolm offered her his right arm.

The feelings that were coursing through him right now actually unnerved him a little, this was Bree…she wasn't a girl she was just Bree. He quashed it and focused. "I believe I do, My Lady," he replied with a smile.

At the end of the corridor they found an open door with the evening's herald on the other side. As soon as he saw he was going to announce their presence and Bree felt nervous all of the sudden, this wasn't the biggest party she'd ever been too but it was the only one that centered on her. This was her party. No pressure.

"Lady Gabriella, scion of House Pavus and escort Malcolm Hawke," the herald announced and suddenly Bree felt out of place with all the eyes that were on her. She gulped and her wide eyed expression was hard to miss. Lucky for her Malcolm was as cool as they came; he didn't like all those eyes on him but kept his cool.

"Oh, I do not like all these eyes on me," she muttered and clutched his arm tighter. "I feel like there's a stain on my dress or something in my teeth."

Malcolm looked down and gave her a half smile before returning his attention to the eyes on them both. "You look beautiful, Bree, you always do," he said and she blushed.

"Aww…you like me, Mal, I saw the look on your face earlier," she teased and Malcolm cleared his throat trying to hide his embarrassment from what she obviously saw. "That's why you wanted to escort me."

"Don't flatter yourself," he commented. "your mother sent me to get you."

Bree giggled as they waded through the people all oohing and ahhing over her dress and hair and Malcolm on her arm. They weren't just looking at Bree; Malcolm was as handsome as they came, tall, well-dressed, and looking like he belonged on her arm.

"You look stunning, my dear," Dorian greeted and kissed his daughter's cheek then looked at Malcolm. "And you…alright fine…you're right, the black and red looks good on you."

Malcolm smiled smugly satisfied that he was right about his fashion sense as they were joined by two very familiar faces. Anders had cleaned up too didn't put on the same finery his son chose. While he, Malcolm, and Dorian all shared the same height and build Anders didn't like going too fancy. His hair was tied back as it usually was and he wore a brown tunic with a white under shirt. For as simple as it was he was still as dashing as he ever. Tess had seen enough noble parties trying to keep up appearances in Kirkwall, the Champion was invited to all the best parties and she succeeded in dragging Anders to one or two before things blew up in Kirkwall, literally. Anders the social butterfly liked the attention but Anders the mage hated it. In Kirkwall he had the protection of the Champion and one or two Templars that hadn't lost their damn minds, but strolling around alone was dangerous, going to a party was worse. Regardless, when Tess asked him, he accompanied her until things in Kirkwall got too dangerous for him. Tess was a sight that made Anders' mouth go dry. She may have come from humble origins but she cleaned up like a princess and carried herself like a Queen. She wore a light blue dress with an empire waist that was simple but elegant. The brunette Force mage was beautiful and he couldn't believe his luck.

"I thought we were done with parties after I blew up Kirkwall." Anders muttered and Tess simply gave him a scowl and Anders snorted. "Too soon…?" he snorted. "Sorry."

Tess half chuckled at his comment and he grinned in return as he acknowledged the presence of one of many people who wanted him dead at this party. "Fenris," he said simply using the Elf's name has a hello.

Fenris eyed him coldly, he'd had to get used to a lot of things over the years, and the fact that he couldn't kill that bastard apostate on sight was the hardest one to swallow. His expression was enough to convey his feelings toward the mage and Anders simply chuckled at it. Fenris shifted his eyes to Tess and nodded at her, whatever else that took place in Kirkwall he did trust Tess, he even followed her in the defense of the mages simply because she asked him to help. "Tess," he nodded in his typical greeting of her.

Khrys looked from Fenris to Anders and could still feel Fenris' lingering anger toward him. Maybe Varric was right, this many people in one place all with one thing in common: kill Anders. Perhaps not one of her most solid plans. "If I have to I'll put the same warning on the two of you that I did Sebastian. No fighting."

Anders held up his hands like an innocent child. "I didn't say anything," he replied, his tone as sincere as he could make it.

"Pish," Khrys commented not believing his innocent act. "I know you, Anders."

Once again Anders defended his innocence. "I didn't say anything." Now it was just funny.

Khrys snorted, she didn't believe him at all, Malcolm was just like him and she'd spent enough time with Anders to know that he liked to antagonize anyone he could get a rise out of. "Maybe not yet," she snorted. "You like to antagonize just as much as he likes to glare," she added gesturing pointedly to Fenris.

Fenris' brow furrowed deeply as he looked down at Khrys. "I didn't say anything," both Fenris and Anders chorused. At that moment they glared at each other simply for the crime of speaking in unison.

Tess giggled along with Bree at the glare exchange between Fenris and Anders. "She's right, you know," Tess agreed and Anders feigned a glare. "Where do you think he gets it from?"

Malcolm hadn't said word one to his parents so far and gave the same innocent expression his father had, if there was any doubt of his parentage, it was set straight right then. "Don't bring me into this," he replied and Bree laughed at the mirror image of Anders. "I didn't piss off half of Thedas."

Bree chortled mischievously from his left. "Not yet," she added and Malcolm lightly shoved her right shoulder only to be punched his left by her.

Dorian groaned, childish behavior…all of them, he tried to raise a lady and only partly succeeded. Malcolm was like a brother to her and when they were together they acted like childish, immature siblings.


Bree began to mingle, she was very outgoing and friendly and she knew most of the people at this party so she was comfortable as she moved around to say hello and came to Duncan with a bright smile. Duncan looked sharp in black, tan, and white; he had on tall back boots, black trousers, a tan shirt, and a clean white tunic over that. It was a clean look, and strikingly handsome.

"Lady Bree," he nodded kindly with a smile, "you look lovely…and happy birthday."

She blushed and giggled, Duncan was charming in a subtle way, not like her bold as brass father, more like how she observed Michel. "Thank you," she curtsied. "You enjoying yourself?"

Duncan shrugged, he liked the party for what it was but he didn't like all the posturing. "This is supposed to be a birthday party?" he asked and she chuckled understanding his meaning. "I've never had this many people show up for any of my birthdays."

Bree laughed and he offered her his arm so he could walk with her. "No offense but I'm prettier than you," she sniped and Duncan let out a good laugh.

"That is very true, My Lady," he replied still chuckling. "Would you care to dance, Bree?"

Bree's smile was lovely and she nodded quickly. If she though there were a lot of eyes on her when she and Malcolm were announced there were even more now, she was currently dancing with the heir to the Fereldan Kingdom, the man that was offered to her as a husband. She still didn't know how she felt about that but Duncan was nice, he was much better than what she initially thought a Prince would be like.


Dorian regarded them as he quietly moved around the dance floor; it was still unsettling to think about his daughter potentially getting married. Duncan was a good young man, quiet and kind who's potential hadn't been realized yet. He was curious to know just what kind of King he would be when he ascended to the throne. As unsettling as it was to admit, they did make a cute couple.

"Careful about where you're going," a familiar voice said jogging him out of his observations, "might walk into a wall…or someone."

Dorian turned to see Balian in full armor and standing just far enough out of the way to be inconspicuous. He wasn't there to mingle or enjoy the party; he was working, keeping an eye on Sebastian. He swallowed and welcomed Balian as a distraction. "Into you?"

Balian smiled and chuckled as Dorian stood close to him. "You look good," he complimented looking Dorian up and down with approval. "Khrys is right…you do look good in red."

He could always count on Balian to take his mind off of what was bugging him, however, with Balian there was something else on his mind. Their fight the night before, Dorian's frustration got the better of him and pissed Balian off. "I would like to apologize again about last night," he said sincerely and Balian shook his head, he'd already forgiven his little tantrum.

"No apology necessary," he assured with a charming smile and Dorian sighed, damn that Elf's kindness and charm.

"We do need to talk about this, Bail," he said his tone gentler than last night but still serious.

Balian sighed and nodded slightly looking past Dorian to keep an eye on Sebastian currently talking to Khrys and a few other people. So far Anders had kept his distance from the Prince which was a blessing at the moment, when the meeting started all bets were off. Sebastian was a very reserved man who fought when he had to, but when it came to Anders he'd set fire to Thedas if he could. "I know," he sighed resigning himself to the fact that Dorian was right. "We will."

Dorian smiled at him, he did love that man. "Save a dance for me, Amatus," he smirked and Balian scoffed as Dorian was expecting.

Balian had never learned to dance and wasn't about to start now. He would jump into pitched battle or volunteer to Champion someone he'd never met, but the idea of 'dancing' scared the hell out of him. "I do not dance…sorry," he replied knowing that Dorian knew that. The mage was teasing him and had walked off chuckling at his lover's predictable reply.


Bree still hand a hold of Duncan's right hand as they stepped away from their dance and approached Anders and Malcolm. Malcolm snatched a glass of wine from a server's tray and downed it in one gulp earning a raised eyebrow from his father. Malcolm shrugged innocently and Anders chuckled softly, a distinct feeling of déjà vu. It was almost like looking at a mirror from when he was in Kirkwall and dragged to noble events by the love of his life.

"I think I got shorter," Bree complained as she fiddled with the bottom of the gown. "I keep stepping on my dress."

Malcolm scoffed looking down at her as she used Duncan's right had to steady herself. "You get any shorter and you're gonna be a Dwarf," he teased hearing Duncan barely stifle a snort as Bree didn't hesitate and punched the tall mage in the abdomen causing him to grunt from the impact.

Anders patted his son's left shoulder and shook his head with a sigh. "Never say things like that to short women, my boy," Anders advised in his best fatherly tone.

Malcolm rubbed the impact site and glanced up at his father who was barely able to keep from laughing. "Couldn't you have said that 10 seconds ago?"

Anders chuckled and shrugged at his offspring. "I would have figured that would be obvious."

"Even I know that," Duncan chimed in and Malcolm gave him a sardonic glare and matching smile.

Bree was playing with him; she'd grown up with the damn short jokes from him. "You want another one, Mal?" she hissed as she stood ready for another strike. Duncan noticed that she may have been little but she wasn't afraid.

Malcolm held up his hands in surrender. "Peace, peace, peace…would hate for you to jump up and bite my ankles," he sniped again knowing she'd hit him again. She did, Bree slapped his arm and his chest in sequence as he laughed at successfully getting a rise out of her. Duncan bellowed laughter at the comment.

He blocked the next few slaps as the black haired birthday girl huffed at his teasing. "You have my permission, Bree, kill him," Anders added shaking his head at all the childish behavior between them. Having one child was all that he and Tess could manage while hiding from half of Thedas, Malcolm spent a lot of his childhood alone until he was 8 when he met Bree in Skyhold. He knew a few Chasind children and spent a little bit of time with them before that but for the most part Malcolm never had kids his own age to play with. Anders was forever grateful to Bree for providing that.

"Thanks for the support, Dad," Malcolm chuckled pretending to be hurt.

Anders scoffed in kind. "I didn't raise you to be a fool; she's a fire mage for Maker's sake. One thing the circle taught me that was useful: Don't make a fire mage angry."

Duncan joined the fray. "Come on…someone her size…what kind of damage could she do?" he joked and the laugh from Malcolm carried through the hall. Never in a million years did he expect Duncan to join the friendly ribbing so early.

Bree closed her mouth and gave up when Duncan joined in. "Oh, not you too!" she exclaimed but she wasn't angry, it was impossible to be angry right now. Malcolm and Duncan were both laughing; well at least they had bonded. She liked Duncan; he had a sense of humor. She looked over at Anders who had been chuckling as well until he saw her looking at him. He cleared his throat and stood up straight.

"Allow me to rescue you, my Lady Bree, would you honor me with a dance?" he asked properly and offered her his right hand. Bree accepted with a smile and they headed for the dance floor.


The Orlesian entourage wasn't just fashionably late but just plain late. Gaspard hadn't expected the trip to be delayed as much as it was but he had arrived. Of all the monarchs that were in attendance, he had the biggest contingent with him. Orlais over did everything and letting their Emperor go from the Winter Palace to Skyhold without enough people to occupy a village was not done.

"Emperor Gaspard de Chalons of Orlais, accompanied by Prince Jean-Fredric, of Verchiel," the herald announced causing everyone present to turn and look. The people parted and most of them bowed to the royal presence.

Khrys could pick Gaspard out of crowd of masked men. He had an air about him, a confident but tempered swagger. When they met at the Winter Palace Gaspard was nothing like she thought he'd be. He was charming and didn't treat her like a second class citizen despite her being an Elf, worse a Dalish Elf. He treated her like an equal but she wasn't entirely sure it if it was her status as Inquisitor, if he was trying to get her on his side, or if he was really just a nice guy. The pair just clicked, they worked well during the plot to destabilize the Orlesian Empire, she liked his charm and honesty and he liked everything about her. They flirted heavily and still did to a point but when she declined his offer of marriage he ceased his pursuit. His pursuit of a Elf mage was a bad idea all around but it was the one time he let his affections get in the way of the honor code that ruled his life. Gaspard was still handsome even with the ever present and irritating Orlesian mask. The man to his right had nearly an identical build, tall and broad, and looked like a capable fighter.

"Your majesty," Khrys greeted bowing her head; she'd never master the curtsy and had no plans to do so.

Michel was tense on the inside but what he projected to the outside world was an element of calm that no one could question. He still found their past relationship a bit strange and couldn't help be a little jealous, he wasn't entirely sure just how far their 'flirting' went. It was indecent of him to ask but the question nagged.

Gaspard returned her bow casually looking her up and down; she was still beautiful and sweet. "No need for such formalities, My Dear Lady," he said charmingly and took her hand, lightly kissing the back of it.

Michel's calm was broken slightly as he nearly growled to the Emperor the minute he touched her. Khrys ignored the shift his manner. "Welcome to Skyhold, Gaspard," she replied formally with a blushing smile, and Gaspard let go of her hand knowing she was no longer available and that her lover was practically growling at him then gave Michel a respectful nod. He respected Michel and would never try to take another man's woman especially that of a Chevalier he respected as much as he did Michel.

"Always a pleasure to be here, Khrystabel," he replied with a flirty smile. "May I introduce my son Jean-Fredric."

The tall Prince bowed respectfully to the little Elf. "An honor to meet you, Lady Inquisitor." Khrys was probably the only Elf to receive such treatment by Orlesian royalty.

"I apologize for our lateness, Lady Inquisitor; there were unexpected troubles on the journey here." Gaspard apologized and Khrys shook her head at him.


Malcolm and Duncan clearly hit it off, fast friends, and it showed. At the party they hung out cracking jokes and making all kinds of short jokes toward Bree. Malcolm was a little more careful about them so he didn't get punched harder than he already had been.

"Well, Orlais has arrived?" Duncan commented looking over the entourage that had arrived. "Prince Jean-Fredric."

"You know him?" Malcolm asked as he observed the Orlesians talk to Khrys and Dorian.

Duncan nodded. "Tournament a few years ago, he's a hell of a horseman…perfect jousting technique."

"You sound like you want to marry him," Malcolm teased and Duncan made a face.

"So not my type, Messer Hawke, but thank you for the match making attempt," he replied in kind as Malcolm only raised a glass to him letting the joke carry on. "I mean this in the best way possible: do not quit your day job," Malcolm kept chuckling as Duncan took a swig from his goblet. "I would like to beat him in the joust this year."

Malcolm was unsure of what he was talking about, of course he knew what a tournament was but had never really been a fan of them. He'd never seen one. He wasn't present for the one held at the bottom of the mountain several years ago or the one at Denerim which was the most recent. "A joust? The man is your competition for Bree…not a tournament purse."

Duncan shrugged. "Have you seen the man joust? He doesn't lose."

Malcolm cleared his throat. "Who won the last tournament?" he asked and Duncan answered quickly like he had the scores memorized.

"That would be Captain Rainier," he informed.

Malcolm's point was made. Thom won the Denerim tournament, the last grand tourney, and Jean-Fredric had also competed in it. "Apparently he lost."

Duncan shook his head. "No, he scratched."

Malcolm shook his head with an amused snort. "You nobles and your tourneys."

"Have you ever been to one?" Duncan asked as Malcolm said nothing but shook his head. "You should come to the Starkhaven one…it's in a few months."

Malcolm nearly laughed; the idea of him being welcomed into Starkhaven was almost laughable. Sebastian would kick him out just because of his parentage. "One, I don't know how to joust and two, I'm a mage and mages aren't allowed to compete."

Duncan shook his head, he knew the rules but that's not what he was getting at. "Didn't say you had to compete, it's fun to watch."

Whether he wanted to go or not was a moot point. There were places in Thedas that he wasn't welcome because of others and Starkhaven was one of them. "I'm not welcome in Starkhaven," he stated quietly and Duncan paused, he understood and didn't press the matter further.


Dorian looked like he was ready to explode; Gaspard had arrived and brought with him his only son and heir. The arrogant ass fawned over Khrys but he kept his distance now since Michel came into the picture. That was the only redeeming quality about the Emperor; he knew when to stop, when his affections were no longer welcome. His glower softened a little when he saw Bree, his daughter was beautiful, she looked more beautiful than a Queen and there was in fact a queen present. He allowed a smile to replace his bitter scowl, he was proud of the woman his daughter was growing up to be. She was well spoken, elegant, and spirited…just like her mother.

His smile vanished like smoke in the wind when he watched Bree join her mother, being presented to Gaspard and his son like a broodmare. He blinked to his own thought, even he thought that was unworthy of him, Khrys would never treat their daughter like that but Dorian's spite was getting the better of him.

"Gaspard, you remember my daughter Bree?" Khrys asked and Dorian blinked out of his spiteful trance.

The Emperor stepped closer and took Bree's right hand kissing the back of it. "My Lady, Bree, you have grown into a fine young lady…it is a pleasure to see you again." He smiled formally.

Bree remembered Gaspard well; she'd met him on several occasions over the years. Her first trip to Halamshiral was 7 years ago, Gaspard laughed as all she wanted to do was go riding. He approved of her independence and lack of interest of dithering with court ladies. Dorian had taught Bree well when it came to handling nobles and royals and she never missed a beat no matter how fake anything felt. She curtsied to the Orlesian monarch and smiled. "Thank you, your Majesty."

Gaspard turned slightly and gestured to the man standing a few paces back from him. "Allow me to introduce my son, Prince Jean-Fredric of Verchiel."

There was awkwardness about all this and everyone present in the group could feel it. Dorian's scowl was hard to ignore and really didn't help matters much. It was all the Magister could do not to lay into Gaspard right then and there. The nerve he had to offer his son to 'strengthen their alliance'…that burned Dorian hotter than any fire ever could.

Jean was quiet as he bowed to her like an enigmatic figure hidden behind a mask. Bree felt her heart speed up to his soft blue eyes, the only thing she could see behind that gold half mask. His smile was roguish but charming and she actually liked the fact that he didn't follow suit and kiss her hand. "Call me Jean, my Lady." He said and she felt her throat go dry.

She smiled to him and nodded. "Welcome to Skyhold, Highness," she said and he acknowledged Dorian.

"Lord Dorian," he nodded his tone respectful to the man whose daughter he had an opportunity to marry. He read the mage's expression and understood it; he had a young sister and would probably be acting the same. "I thank you for your hospitality."

Dorian looked him up and down, he was a battle tested warrior, a Chevalier and that made it worse. Chevalier's were like the Templars, once noble and honorable but time had all but destroyed the Orders' good name. Templars were all but shattered by the Mage-Templar War and then Corypheus; it took almost a decade to rebuild it. Chevaliers, however, had always had a tarnished reputation; they took what they wanted no matter what. He'd seen enough of what Chevalier's were capable of…they didn't deserve the esteem that obliviously Orlais held them to.

It would be bad manners for him to snub him and tactically bad as well. "You're quite welcome, Highness," Dorian replied but his tone was hard to ignore. He could bullshit just like the rest of them and make it sound convincing.

With Orlais there the party gained an extra layer of pomp. Gaspard danced with Lydia and stifled snickers floated through the room, the man still couldn't dance very well. He was a soldier not a princess. Khrys was the one who had danced with him at the Winter Palace all those years ago so she knew very well that he wasn't the best dancer in the world. She didn't dance much anymore, she didn't really like it to begin with, she didn't turn it down when people asked and Michel did ask her to save a dance for him. Her toes curled when he did that, so dashing and handsome like the fairy tale romances. Dorian would be one who would ask her for a dance but so far he was too wrapped up in Bree, Duncan, and Jean to even notice a party going on.


Jean downed what was left in his wine glass and took in the room, the saw the king and queen of Fereldan; the Queen dancing with his father and saw the dark haired young man standing near another dark haired young man. The shorter one he identified as Prince Duncan, a young man he'd met a few years ago at the Denerim Tournament. He didn't know who the taller one was but he carried himself with a cold confidence, an almost unsettling confidence. He next looked at Sebastian Vael, the Starkhaven Prince and the best archer in all of Thedas. That man had conquered more lands over the last decade than anyone else in recent memory. Half of the Free Marches were under his control and it was staggering to think that someone of his tactical prowess was a former Chantry brother. Of course with him, as always, was Balian Lavellan, his loyal bodyguard and Champion. The Elf was famous for being masterful with a sword and had never lost in single combat. Adding to the heady group was the infamous Cullen Rutherford, the leader of the Inquisition's military arm. He'd met him on several occasions, his father gave him high praise and Jean had actually learned a lot from him.

This party was an impossible gathering of famous, deadly people. Kings, Queens, warriors, countless mages, Seekers…a volatile group if someone set off the right fuse. The fugitive mage that started it all was present, Anders. He seemed rather ordinary given the hoopla associated with him.

His eyes fell on the Inquisitor, for such a tiny woman her reputation was larger than life. This was the woman his father always spoke of, the woman who put him on the throne and gave Orlais the years of peace and prosperity it enjoyed now. He felt a little awkward knowing how his father felt about her, he asked to marry her a long time ago but there was no way that would ever happen. Still, the fact that his father asked an Elf to marry him was enough to make things a little strange.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" a sweet voice asked causing him to turn to find Bree beside him.

Jean wore blue and gold in a tunic with a typical Orlesian design on it. The gold half mask he wore revealed brown stubble on the lower part of his face and he had short brown hair. His smile was charming and sweet and she liked it. "It is lovely, My Lady," he replied his tone soft and kind.

Bree snorted. "Nothing like your Orlesian parties I'm sure," she giggled and he chuckled in response.

"Thank the Maker for that," he replied making her laugh more. Jean-Fredric was tall, at least as tall as her father. Dorian, Malcolm, Anders, all towered over people and apparently Jean-Fredric was no different. He looked down at Bree and smiled under his half mask. "Happy birthday, Lady Bree," he said smoothly, his voice was deep but his common tongue was nearly perfect, his Orlesian accent was light but unmistakable.

Bree blushed and blinked, this was the Orlesian Prince? Tall and broad with a charming smile and blue eyes she could see under the mask. Speech escaped her and she felt like a buffoon. "Umm…," was her response and she closed her eyes to the embarrassing sound. "No…wait…I'm sorry," she corrected and huffed at the realization that she was making it worse. Jean's smile only broadened. "Thank you, your highness."

"Please…," he began and gently took her right with his left bringing it up to her lips so he could kiss the back of it, "call me Jean."

Bree blushed from her ears to her toes at his words, they were simple words but his tone and manners sparked her internal desire. "Holy crap!" she exclaimed to herself. "Bree," she replied in kind smiling at him.

"Dance, My Lady?"

She giggled softly, he was such a gentleman. "You dance?"

"I'm Orlesian, My Lady, you can't play the great game without mastering the Ballroom," he replied as he held her right hand in his left lightly while he led her to the center of the room.

"Is that what you're doing now, playing the game?" she asked as he took the lead in a Waltz.

"You are very direct," he commented over their deft movements. "I like that; it's refreshing for someone to actually be honest."

"And the answer to my question?" she asked. She'd been warned by pretty much everyone to be wary of Orlesians.

Jean was far from offended and his smile returned. "I detest the game, My Lady," he answered honestly. "It has its uses and can be unavoidable but people are people…not pawns on a chess board."

Bree attempted to determine if he was telling her the truth or not. His eyes were sincere but she couldn't see his face so she took his words with a grain of salt. "You're not just telling me what I want to hear are you, for the simple matter of impressing me?"

They were lost in their conversation but their dance carried on. People paused to watch them but Bree had only looked one place so far; into his blue eyes. "My Lady, you are a true delight," he said. "As you don't know me…my word means nothing to you but if you allow me to show you the type of man I am, I swear on my Chevalier code to tell you nothing but the truth."

Bree felt her stomach flutter, he was nothing like she'd expected. Orlesian's were snobbish and pampered. So far Jean had portrayed himself as anything but. It could have been an act but she decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. "Alright," she replied smiling sweetly.

When the music stopped Jean and Bree did as well. "I thank you for the dance, Lady Bree; perhaps we can do this again." She couldn't hide the blushing that made her cheeks burn bright as he again kissed the back of her hand and bowed to her before turning away. She watched the Orlesian prince walk away and continued blushing beyond what she could hide.

"You're blushing, Da'len," a man said from behind her. No man called her Da'len but Balian and she turned sharply almost embarrassed by being caught staring, blushing, and probably drooling.

"I am not," she defended quickly as nothing but Balian's soft chuckle was heard. "Oh, shush, Balian. Wouldn't you be?"

Balian looked after the tall Orlesian and shrugged. "I can see why," he replied and she blushed more. "Never did care for Orlesian's much though…too arrogant."

Bree's brow furrowed and she gave Balian a scoff. "Balian, have you met my father?" she asked making Balian laugh a little louder.

"Point made," he conceded and noticed people starting to slowly trickle out of the main hall. It was a discreet disappearing act but it meant that the other reason for this gather was about to get underway. "Happy birthday, Bree," he nodded respectfully as he moved away toward Sebastian but turned on his heel to face her. "You look lovely, by the way."

Bree had always liked Balian; she was a kid when she met him in the stables. She'd cut her hand on a nail and he gave her a cloth to stop the bleeding. When she first met him his scarred face scared her a little but she soon realized that the quiet, soft-spoken Elf was funny, loyal, and very protective. He spoke to her in Elvish as he quietly wrapped her hand up in the scarf. She'd never forget that kind memory from the scarred warrior from Starkhaven.