There was a sense of renewed purpose about Skyhold. The keep was a flurry of activity; Leliana's ravens flew back and forth at all hours, it seemed; bearing messages to and from the spymaster. Scouts returned daily with reports for Cullen, dispatched the following day with new orders as the Inquisition's Commander leaned on the War table and studied the placement of small metal figures. Messengers arrived daily, bringing reports and letters to Josephine from potential allies expressing interest in the Inquisition; several requested audiences with the Inquisitor, and Anders found himself having to endure several long, tedious meetings with various Orlesian, Antivan and Nevarran nobles, presided over by Josephine and sometimes Leliana. The Orlesian First Enchanter, Madame de Fer, invited herself along to one meeting with a particularly troublesome and demanding Orlesian noble and soon demonstrated her familiarity with courtly manners and politics; after that, Anders made sure Vivienne was included in all meetings where he had to deal with nobles.

He found Vivienne's attitude towards him began to thaw after that. It seemed she was flattered and pleased to be included.

Anders disliked these petitioners' meetings; for a start, he was very uncomfortable with the whole idea of the throne which Josephine had insisted upon. He had made sure they opted for as plain and simple a throne as possible. It consisted of a very high-backed wooden chair of dark Ferelden oak, the armrests carved into lion's-heads and the flaming eye symbol of the Inquisition carved and gilded, set into the seat back above Anders' head. It was upholstered in dark red velvet that didn't seem to make it any more comfortable to sit in - or perhaps that was simply down to Anders' unease at having to sit in it. He felt wrong, ill at ease, out of place - as though he were a naughty apprentice sitting in the First Enchanter's chair and certain one of the templars would be by any minute to catch him at it and punish him. He tried to sit still and at least appear attentive; Cassandra's looming presence nearby did little to reassure him; she glared at him briefly whenever he fidgeted uncomfortably in the seat. Worse still, Ser Pounce-a-lot was banished from such sessions. Anders would have found them more tolerable and less stressful if he'd had a lapful of cat to stroke, but both Cassandra and Josephine had been firm on that point - no cats during the petitioning sessions.

He couldn't wait to escape at the end of each meeting; they seemed interminably long, almost torturously so. He'd had no idea that being made Inquisitor would be so tedious. If he'd known just what was in store for him when Cassandra had sent for him, he thought he likely would have run out of the gates and not stopped running until he reached the little cabin where he and Hawke had been so happy together for a while. Maker, even hunting up Fenris would have been better than this - though Anders dreaded to think what the elf would have to say to him.

It was after the fifth meeting with the Orlesian ambassador that Vivienne laid her hand upon his arm as they were leaving the Great Hall where they conducted most of their meetings with petitioners; and as Vivienne detained him with that elegant dark hand upon his arm he paused, surprised.

"Inquisitor, are you free this afternoon?" she inquired.

"This afternoon?" Anders echoed, frowning a little. He racked his mind; Josephine had said nothing of any further meetings today, they weren't due another session in the War Room until tomorrow. He'd pondered browsing the library; there'd been a new shipment of books, but he supposed he could drop by later on. "Yes, I... I think I am," he replied finally, aware Vivienne was regarding him expectantly.

"Excellent!" she purred. "Perhaps you would do me the honour of joining me in my quarters for wine and refreshments? I much desire to speak with you."

"You do?" said Anders, staring at her more intently. There was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite fathom. She was after something, though what, he wasn't sure. "I'd be glad to join you, Madame, and discuss whatever you wish - within reason," he added with a lopsided smile.

"But of course," she smiled back. She leaned a little closer, and Anders was suddenly acutely aware of the rich heady scent of roses and violets from the scent she wore. "I very much look forward to getting to know you... Trevelyan."

"And I you... Vivienne," he replied. Her smile widened.

"Then I shall see you at the second bell after noon?" she suggested.

"I shall look forward to it, Madame," replied Anders as he drew away and inclined his head towards her with a small bow.

"As shall I," she promised before she swept away with another enigmatic smile.

"I'd watch out if I were you, Blondie," remarked Varric quietly from his side. "You're walking into trouble there; best keep your wits about you."

"I concur," said Dorian quietly as he came up just behind Anders' shoulder on the other side. "Madame de Fer is far too used to the politics of the Game; I don't know how the Ostwick Circle handles such things, but I dare say facing off against her would be playing with fire. If you walk into the viper's den, you'd best not go unprepared."

"The Ostwick Circle doesn't play such games," replied Anders, though his thoughts were on Kinloch as he spoke. Politics there were strictly between the senior enchanters as they jockeyed for position, and between the First Enchanter and Gregoir, leader of the templars. Anders had been far too lowly to be involved in such things, and all his energies had been focused on escaping. One didn't see much of politics whilst languishing in a cell, after all. "And I was... usually preoccupied with other things."

Dorian patted his shoulder gently. "Come and find me in the library when you've escaped the clutches of dear Vivienne," he suggested. "I have a rather nice Nevarran Red waiting that should help take away the taste of politics that would be just perfect for sharing, if you've a mind? Or perhaps... before visiting dear Vivienne? I could... advise you on how to handle yourself around an experienced player of the Game."

Anders turned slightly towards Dorian and found the Tevinter Altus was standing rather close, his storm-grey eyes regarding Anders intently, a faint smile curving his lips beneath the immaculately-groomed moustache. Anders found his gaze drawn to those lips, then drew his eyes back up to those of Dorian, who regarded him with a knowing smirk.

"And are you, then, such an experienced player of the Game?" asked Anders, his voice dropping to match the conspiratorial tone of the Altus as he cocked his head on one side, still fighting to keep his gaze on Dorian's eyes and not his lips, unconsciously licking his own as he stared into those soft grey depths.

He couldn't miss the way Dorian's pupils suddenly widened as the Altus' gaze dropped to Anders lips very briefly before flicking back up to meet Anders' gaze. Ah. Definite interest there.

"In Tevinter, we play our own version of the Game," replied Dorian quietly. "Equally deadly at times - after all, politics in the Imperium is a cut-throat business at the best of times. Those born to the Alti are raised to the Game practically from birth. I can teach you a little... if you like."

"And are we not playing the game now, then?" murmured Anders, leaning ever so slightly closer to the other mage. This close, he could smell a heady scent of spices and a subtle touch of perfume that hinted at sandalwood; he found himself wanting to draw closer, inhale deeply, kiss -

What are you doing?

He pulled himself away abruptly and wrenched his gaze away sharply. "Maybe later - after lunch," he suggested hastily.

"Later, then," smiled Dorian, seemingly unconcerned by Anders' sudden change in demeanor as he turned away. He cast Anders a last glance over his shoulder then sauntered off in the direction of the library. Anders found his gaze drawn to the Tevinter Altus' rear until Varric elbowed him sharply in the ribs, distracting him. He glanced down at the dwarf.

"You're playing a dangerous game," remarked Varric. "I'd watch your step, kiddo. What would Hawke say? Or Fenris?"

"What?" exclaimed Anders. "I'm not - Varric, there's nothing going on between me and Dorian! He's just - being friendly, is all."

"That looked like more than just being friendly to me," replied Varric. "And you seemed to be enjoying it. That looked like more than innocent flirting to me, Blondie. And if you two keep this up, others will start to notice."

"Was it that obvious?" said Anders, startled. "Varric, that was - I was just flirting! I do it when I'm nervous - I can't help it. I don't mean to, I just -"

"Easy, Blondie," said Varric calmly. "It's none of my business who you flirt with. I just don't want to see you get hurt, is all - and I have the feeling Sparkler comes with a whole pile of baggage all of his own."

"He seems... lonely," said Anders. "I understand that. If you weren't here, Varric, I don't know what I'd do."

"Hey, you'd still have Curly!" pointed out Varric.

"Who drew his sword on me at our first meeting and wanted to slit my throat," Anders reminded him as they headed slowly from the Great Hall towards the rear of the keep.

"Ah, what's a little misunderstanding between friends?" shrugged Varric. Anders snorted.

"I don't think Cullen quite qualifies as a friend, do you?" he replied.

"Maybe not," agreed the dwarf ruefully as they came to a halt at the bottom of the spiral staircase leading up to the Inquisitor's rooms. "Listen, Blondie. The Iron Lady puts on a good show, but that's all it is - an act. Once you get to know her, you'll find she's not so scary, OK? don't sweat it - you'll be fine. You've already laid the groundwork by bringing her in on these discussions. Just keep flattering her and you'll have her eating out of your hand in no time." He grinned. "Flirt with her the way you did with Sparkler and you'll be all set!" Varric paused. "You... do like women too, right?"

Anders snorted. "Varric, trust me - back in my days in the Tower, the gender of a prospective partner was very much the last thing on my mind - well, unless I was specifically looking for -"

"OK, too much information, thank you!" protested Varric laughing as he raised his hands in surrender. "Alright, so you'll have no problems flirting and wooing the Iron Lady. Seriously, Blondie, this'll be a piece of cake."

Anders nodded. "Wish me luck?"

"With the Iron Lady?" asked Varric, then snorted. "Kiddo, if you turn on the heat the way you did with Sparkler, you're not going to need it!"

"Thanks, Varric," murmured Anders. "You're so reassuring." He headed towards the spiral staircase that led up to his rooms.