When Aeric called the party together again to investigate the Royal Quarters, they once more found the area swarming with Venatori. After his dance with the Grand Duchess, Aeric had been convinced that she was hiding something. Even Dorian had to agree that so many fingers pointing at Gaspard meant he had to be the only one they could rule out as the assassin, despite his machinations for the Imperial Throne. Finding Gaspard's agent tied up and naked in Celene's quarters was good for a laugh, but also cemented the fact that everyone had out-maneuvered Gaspard and was playing him for a fool.

It wasn't any wonder, then, that when they found Gaspard's mercenary captain, Florianne herself was the one who laid the trap for them. Aeric glared up at her, almost seeming bored of her threats and self-aggrandizing blather. Demons poured out of a rift even as Venatori zealots attacked from all sides in the tiny courtyard. But demons and Venatori were Dorian and Aeric's first real dance together, long ago in Redcliffe, and they knew the steps by heart now. With Cassandra and Iron Bull beside them, they made short work of their attackers and hurried to catch up to the Grand Duchess.

When they entered the ballroom, Cullen spotted them and hurried over, with Leliana and Josephine close behind. "Thank the Maker you're back!" the Commander said. "The Empress will begin her speech soon. What should we do?"

Aeric handed his bow and arrows to Leliana, who held out the coat to his uniform. "Everyone wait here," he ordered as he tugged the coat over his light leather armor. "I'm going to have a word with the Grand Duchess." As soon as the buttons were done and his sash was tied, he turned and sauntered toward the middle of the ballroom.

"Where is he going?" Cullen hissed at no one in particular. "The Empress will begin her speech any moment!"

They were joined by the other members of the Inquisition, Livia among them. They approached the railing to look out at the landing where Florianne, Gaspard, and Briala stood in preparation for the Empress' speech.

"We owe the court one more show, Your Grace," Aeric's voice rang out across the grand ballroom, freezing the Duchess where she stood. All of the guests took a collective gasp at his boldness. "You've been beaten."

Dorian heard a soft gasp from beside him. "Maker's balls," Livia whispered. "Is he really confronting her before the entire court?"

Aeric strode up the steps to face Florianne. "Your plan to assassinate the Empress has failed," he said smoothly.

"He's not exactly subtle, no," Dorian whispered back with a smile. Aeric made accusation after accusation, the court crying out in shock and awe as if watching a play at the theatre.

"Publically humiliating a noble like that… he'd be murdered if this were Tevinter." Livia sounded impressed.

"Good thing this isn't Tevinter." Dorian watched Aeric circle Florianne, the elf's hands held behind his back with ease. With a gesture, he had the guards arrest the Duchess and haul her away. As soon as she was gone, Aeric, Empress Celene, Gaspard, and Briala all stepped out onto one of the balconies to decide on the fate of Orlais.

Everyone in the ballroom - nobles and Inquisition members, all of them - expected the discussion to go on for a while, and went back to drinking and eating and dancing. Only a few minutes later, however, the three Orlesian leaders entered the ballroom again, Aeric following behind them.

"They couldn't have reached an agreement already…" Livia murmured.

Empress Celene and Grand Duke Gaspard stood at the platform overlooking the guests of the ball. After a moment, all fell quiet as they stopped to listen. "Lords and Ladies of the court, we are pleased to announce that an accord has been reached," Empress Celene declared, her voice ringing across the ballroom. "Our cousin Gaspard will now hold a place of honor in our cabinet."

The crowd erupted in nervous and excited chatter. Dorian himself almost let his mouth fall open in shock. "But they were at each other's throats only moments ago!" he whispered excitedly. Other members of the Inquisition, those who had not been bred for politics like he and Livia had been, only seemed mildly surprised. But the two Tevinters, they knew how difficult it was to get rivals to work together. Easier to pit them against each other, to tear them apart, to sow seeds of discord between them. True cooperation, they had been told, was the dream of fools.

"Friends," Gaspard was declaring before the court, "we assembled are the leaders of the Empire. We must set the example for all of Thedas."

Here were the Empress and the Grand Duke, two people who had lived and breathed politics their entire lives. Rivals since Celene took the throne in her sixteenth year - rivals still, decades later. Add in Briala, spymaster for just as many decades, and there you had three people with the most reason to distrust one another. And yet there they were, the three of them working as a unit to end the civil war and unite against Corypheus and the Breach. All because of a single Dalish elf who had never been to a formal ball before, had never played at politics before a mere few months prior, had indeed never received a formal education beyond the stories told by a clan elder and the passion for learning in his own heart.

Aeric stepped forward to speak before the court, his head still held high and proud, as if every noble hadn't directed some sort of slur in his direction that night. And as Dorian watched him, his heart pounded with excitement and pride. Aeric hadn't accomplished all of this because he was the Maker's Chosen. Not a shred of the night's events happened because of the Anchor or his walk through the Fade. Tonight, he had only been Aeric. He was the leader of the Inquisition, surely, but still just a man, one who had come from practically nothing, as far as the courts were concerned. How, then, could Dorian think himself so limited, when he had been given all the privileges that money and influence could offer? How could he be constrained only by what the Magisterium could offer, when he had received the finest education his parents could afford? If Aeric could change an entire nation without ancient bloodlines or a powerful family name, then Dorian could as well, couldn't he?

I can still reform Tevinter. Dorian had always thought so before, but now was the first time the thought came without doubt trailing behind it. He could do it, with or without the strength of his own family behind him. He had his own potential, his own strength. He'd always had it. The difference now was that he knew it was there.

On the tail of that realization came another: he didn't have to choose between Aeric and Tevinter. For the first time in his life, he felt that his future was truly his own, and the possibilities it held were limitless.

Celene and Gaspard ended their speech to grand applause, and Aeric walked away from the platform. "Livia," Dorian said, grinning. "I must speak with Aeric."

Livia frowned, following along as he tugged her away from the railing. "Is everything all right?"

"Couldn't be better!" Off to the side of the ballroom, Dorian spotted Blackwall standing next to some ostentatious statues. "Here, you haven't had much chance to speak this evening, have you?" As he guided her towards the Grey Warden, Livia hissed at Dorian in unintelligible whispers. "Blackwall! Could you do me a favor? Keep my dear wife company for a while, would you? These Orlesians are savages, and I'm afraid they'd badger her while I attend to other matters. You saw how they were with Cullen, didn't you?"

Blackwall gave a rumbling hum of agreement, his whiskers twitching. "Aye, I did." The Warden turned to Livia, his face turning pink. "I doubt I'll be entertaining company, my lady, but I'll make certain you aren't bothered."

Livia smiled. "Do not be so hard on yourself, Warden. I am certain we will find something to speak about between us." Despite the smile on her lips, there was a hardness in her eyes as she glanced at Dorian that told him he'd hear about this later.

Dorian walked away, leaving them to the awkward beginnings of conversation. He thought he saw Aeric go out to a balcony at the far end of the ballroom. Very few people went by here, Celene's ladies in waiting mostly, as the area had been reserved for the Empress' talks. As he approached the balcony, a woman was just leaving - Lady Morrigan, Celene's occult advisor, Dorian believed. He glanced around as he stepped outside, drawing the doors closed behind him.

Aeric was leaning on the railing of the spacious balcony, staring at the gardens below, not seeming to notice Dorian's presence. "Quite a show you gave us in there tonight, amatus," Dorian mused as he joined Aeric, leaning on the railing as he did. "I am now utterly convinced you can bridge any rift, between people or realities. Your pick."

Aeric looked up at Dorian and smiled. "I've had quite enough of closing rifts for one night, thank you."

"And here I was going to suggest you try your hand at my parents' marriage," Dorian quipped. "Now there would be a challenge for you. They make Orlais' civil war look like a minor skirmish." When Aeric replied with nothing more than a small quirk of his lips, the smile on his own face faltered. "You look lost in thought. Something on your mind?"

"I'm just worn out," Aeric said with a sigh. "Tonight has been very… long."

Though the ball had taken Aeric's mind off of it, Dorian knew he was still in the midst of mourning for his sister. Dorian wanted to do something for him, to make him happy if only for a moment. "It does seem a bit unfair, you running around saving lives, and everyone else at least got the opportunity to enjoy themselves." Dorian glanced at the windows on either side of the balcony doors. Anyone would be able to look out at them, but his excitement made him bold. "What you need is a distraction. I have just the thing: let's dance." He stepped to the side and gave a small bow, offering his hand with a flourish.

Aeric's smile reappeared, and Dorian's heart skipped a beat. "I was hoping you would ask." Aeric took Dorian's hand, and Dorian pulled him into his arms, his hand firm on the elf's back. The tips of Aeric's ears turned pink, but his eyes wandered toward the windows. "Is this… all right?"

Dorian smiled softly, moving them in time to the distant music drifting out from the ballroom. "It is. More than all right, actually." Butterfly wings flapped against the insides of his stomach even as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. "I came out here to tell you something. And as terribly talkative as you are-" Aeric gave a soft chuckle, "-I'm going to ask you not to say anything. I detest confessions, and I fear I might not get it all out otherwise."

Aeric said nothing, but nodded instead.

With Aeric's undivided attention upon him now, Dorian hesitated. He wondered if Aeric could feel the tremor of Dorian's hand on his back. "I… I love you, Aeric. And please do not think I say those words lightly, because I doubt I have said them to anyone before in my entire life." He swallowed. "I love you," Dorian said again, feeling a freeing elation at the words, and he spun them around the balcony as if to emphasize the sensation. "More than anything, more than anyone. And I choose to be with you, Aeric. Amatus. I have never wanted anything so much as I want to be with you, with all that it entails. I've never…" Dorian trailed off. Aeric's eyes were bright. Too bright. "Fasta vass, are you crying?"

Aeric laughed. The tears didn't fall from his eyes, but he didn't try to wipe them away either. "It really has been a very long night, ma'nehn," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "A very long few weeks, actually. And… I wasn't certain…"

"That I would choose you?" Dorian finished for him. He slowed their waltz to the barest of steps so he could bend and kiss Aeric's forehead easily. "You needn't have worried. Have you met you? You are magnificent, amatus, and I have fallen for you unequivocally." He ended their dance then, stopping beside the stone columns just past the door. Unable to stand even the few inches between them any longer, he pulled Aeric into a hungry kiss, urgent and needy. Lips kneading, tugging, caressing. Tongues meeting again and again in long swipes. And then it had to stop, had to end before he lost himself to his wanting. "Sweet Maker," Dorian breathed. "I want this so badly."

"When can we start?" Aeric asked, grinning. The tears were gone from his eyes, but they were no less bright. Dorian's heart felt full to bursting from the look of utter excitement plain on the elf's face. It was so good to see him smile again.

"Let me talk to Livia," Dorian murmured, tracing Aeric's tattoos with the tip of his thumb. "We'll work something out between us. I got her into this mess. I owe it to her to get her out of it." He sighed. "And then I have to inform my father…" Dorian felt a chill run up his spine and a clawing dread in his innards.

"He won't be pleased, I take it," Aeric said, the smile falling from his face into an expression of concern.

Dorian barked out a mirthless laugh. "To put it lightly. The last time I caused a scandal like this, my father had our family retainers invade a nobleman's estate in an effort to get me back. Not sure what he'll do when I tell him about you." His arms tightened around Aeric. The young man he had been with that time, Dorian had barely even liked him. He had been a diversion, like all the other men had been diversions in one way or another. None of them had been serious, not like this. Not like Aeric. Dorian gave an uneasy chuckle. "It's not too late to bow out now."

Aeric shook his head. "Not a chance. I love you, ma'nehn."

Dorian smiled, though a bit shakily. "You do keep saying that."

"Is there anything I can do?"

Dorian tucked a stray strand of hair behind Aeric's long ear. "Just wait for me. A few days, perhaps, to get everything in order. I will speak to my father in Val Royeaux. Not here in the palace… too public." Dorian stepped back from him then, afraid he had already stayed too long.

As if on cue, the heavy balcony doors opened, and Livia poked her head around. She glanced from Dorian to Aeric and back again. She scowled. "Oh, for fuck's sake, Dorian!" she hissed.

Aeric's eyes widened; Dorian was certain the elf had never heard Livia swear before. Dorian blushed, taking another step away from him. "Apologies, I was just leaving."

Livia took a deep breath, resuming her demure and proper persona. "I humbly beg your pardon, Inquisitor," she said, her voice still a tad strained. "His father is looking for him."

Dorian gave Aeric one last smile before following Livia through the doors.

As soon as they were both inside, Livia slipped her arm around one of his. "Venhedis, what kind of idiot are you?" she said under her breath as they walked, even as she smiled sweetly at the other nobles who went by. "What if someone had seen you?"

"It matters little now," Dorian replied, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. When she looked up at him questioningly, he shook his head. "I'll speak to you about it later."

"I'll take the short version now, thank you." Even in a whisper, her voice was hard and brooked no argument.

Dorian sighed. "I'm going to need that annulment, Livia."

She stopped in her tracks, drawing him up short. The fake smile dropped from her face, and she stared up at him, her brow furrowed. "Kaffas!" she cursed under her breath. "Damn it, Dorian! Festis bei umo canavarum…"

"I know," he told her, a touch of regret in his voice. "I'm sorry."

After a few breaths, she tugged him again, continuing their stroll along the ballroom. "Well, I can't say I'm terribly surprised." She put on her smile again. "As you say, we will discuss it later. Your father is coming."

Making his way through a crowd of nobles, Father approached with an expressionless face, his hands held behind his back. "Dorian, there you are."

"Livia said you were looking for me?"

"Yes," the older man said. "I have grown tired of the party and will be retiring to my quarters shortly." He paused, hesitating before continuing. "However, I wanted you to extend my congratulations to the Inquisition on a successful evening."

Dorian's eyebrows rose. "Is that a fact?"

Father nodded. "The Inquisitor is not what I expected. For an elf… for anyone, perhaps, he handles himself well. I would not have predicted the outcome for Orlais tonight."

Frowning, Dorian studied his father for a moment. "You wanted Gaspard out of the picture. Executed, possibly. Why?"

"A weaker Orlais means more opportunities for Tevinter advancement," Father said simply, as if talking about a pair of shoes or whether it was raining. "All of Orlais would not rally behind Celene alone. Gaspard was the far more capable leader. Thus, it would only be a matter of time before the empire fell to ruin once more under Celene's rule." He gave a slight shrug. "I was not heavily invested in the endeavor, however. All well and good that the Inquisitor has united Orlais, as impossible as that seemed."

Dorian blinked at his father then laughed, unsure whether he was amused or somewhat appalled. "You sent out seeds of doubt about a friend of yours, to get him arrested or possibly executed for treason… what, just to see what would come of it? For shits and giggles?"

Father smiled. "I would not have put it so crudely."

"Orlesian parties are a bore, aren't they?" Dorian said with a grin.

Livia, who had been listening and smiling politely, spoke up. "My lord, will you be returning to Val Royeaux? I know you mentioned that you would be leaving for Qarinus soon."

"Yes, I leave for Val Royeaux in the morning," Dorian's father replied. "I must take care of a few final arrangements before I leave Orlais."

"We'll come visit you before you go," Dorian put in, feeling uneasy with the idea of the impending conversation they would have there. "We've hardly seen you the entire time you've been here, after all."

"I would like that," his father said with a slow nod, though his eyes narrowed. "Dorian, I could not help but notice your birthright is missing. It has been absent the last few times I have seen you as well."

Dorian shifted uncomfortably. "I knew I would be doing some fighting tonight, Father. It wouldn't do to lose the damned thing, would it?"

Frowning, Father didn't respond right away. Instead he gave Dorian a long, appraising look before he inclined his head by way of a goodbye. "Until your visit, then, Dorian. Livia." Without another word, Father turned and walked away.

Dorian watched him go, feeling that his father had not actually believed the excuse he gave for the lost amulet. If the truth came out about it, it would only be the start of the disappointment his father would feel in him. Despite his desire to be with Aeric, Dorian did still want his father to be happy, somehow. Yet he was no longer certain he was the person who could make that happen.

ooo

To the Revered Father Telemachus,

About a year ago, you performed the rite of marriage between myself and Lady Livia of House Herathinos. It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that this marriage is no longer viable, and both Lady Livia and I request an annulment. The union has never been consummated, even despite the length of our marriage thus far, and therefore cannot be considered valid.

The dissolution of the marriage is entirely my fault, and I take full responsibility for the burden this has caused both House Pavus and House Herathinos. Lady Livia has done everything in her power to uphold the terms of our marriage contract, and has gone above and beyond the duties of a devoted wife. Unfortunately, I do not have that same devotion to the union, and have never been able to fully commit to the arrangement. I, Dorian Pavus, am in breach of contract, and restitution for the loss of time and energy and, possibly, of reputation because of this folly shall be paid entirely from House Pavus to House Herathinos.

Revered Father, under the light of the Maker, I implore you to assist Lady Livia in whatever way the Chantry is capable in order to expedite the annulment, so that she may return to the life from which I have stolen her. I sincerely apologize for the utter inconvenience of this breach of contract, to Lady Livia and House Herathinos most of all.

With sincerest regrets,

Dorian of House Pavus

It was early morning when Dorian finished the letter, the sky still dark. Weak moonlight trickled in through the gauzy curtains of their quarters in Halamshiral. Livia lay in the bed, sleeping with a satin mask over her eyes as she snored softly, her mouth hanging open. When they had returned to their rooms hours earlier, she decided to go straight to bed instead of discussing the impending annulment. Despite the lure of silk sheets and the ache of fatigue at the back of his neck, Dorian couldn't sleep, his mind racing with anticipation and excitement in equal measure.

With Aeric as inspiration, Dorian now knew he could still work toward a reformed Tevinter, even if the task would be more difficult without the backing of the title of 'magister'. However, one thing was clear now: the Pavus legacy would end with him. If Dorian was honest with himself, he probably understood that fact long before he even agreed to marry, the marriage itself a desperate and foolhardy last-ditch effort at preserving what was already lost. The guilt weighed heavily upon him, just as he knew that his father's disappointment would weigh on him. His mother would be disappointed as well, of course, but she hadn't been a Pavus by birth. Her family, House Thalrassian, was not the one about to die out after countless generations.

Dorian sighed, folding up the letter. His decision was made, and he had no desire to change it, despite the conflict within him. Father might disown him, he knew. That's what any good Tevinter would do, and his father was one of the best Tevinters. Dorian hoped that he wouldn't, that his parents loved him enough to forgive his fumbling fight for happiness. The fact that he didn't know which it would be - disownment or forgiveness - made his heart ache.

Yet Dorian would not be deterred. He would forge a life of his own, and he would be proud of it.

"So you're done with your incessant scribbling, then?"

Looking up from the folded paper in front of him, Dorian glanced over at the bed. Livia was sitting up, glaring at him with bleary eyes, her mask pushed up to her forehead. He realized he hadn't heard her snoring for several minutes. "Yes, all done with the scribbling," he replied.

Livia pulled the mask off completely and dropped it onto her lap. "What are you even doing up so late?" she asked with a long yawn.

"Too much thinking. The curse of an active mind." Dorian picked up the letter and waved it in the air to show her. "I've written an affidavit for you. For the annulment. Hopefully it will negate some of the nastier tricks my mother might try when settling the breach of contract. We can get it notarized by a magistrate when we arrive in Val Royeaux tomorrow."

"So… we're really going through with it, then," Livia said, rubbing her eyes until her gaze was as sharp as ever.

Dorian's brow furrowed. "Did I misunderstand? I thought…"

She shook her head and smiled. "I have no intention of keeping you prisoner in a marriage you no longer want. I just…" For a moment, she floundered for words, looking out the window as she gathered her thoughts. "I'm going to be honest," she said, bringing her eyes back to him. "I'm a little terrified. And by 'a little terrified', I really mean 'fucking shitting myself'. Aren't you?"

"I am shitting myself as we speak, my dear," Dorian replied with a rueful smile.

"Good! You should be!" She exhaled sharply. "I've never even heard of anyone getting an annulment. It's so rarely done. You?"

"Most people have their spouse killed when they want out of a marriage," Dorian said with a shrug. "So, no. Well, perhaps a distant cousin on my mother's side, but no one ever speaks of him."

Livia said nothing, staring out the window again at the dark sky. "I wonder what my parents will say. They'll likely be furious." She gave a small smile. "Not at me. At you, on my behalf."

Dorian nodded. "As they have every right to be." He paused. "I wouldn't blame you if you were angry too."

Livia shook her head. "Angry at you for what? For falling in love? For finally getting yourself out from under your father's thumb?" As her eyes met his, she gritted her teeth and huffed. "Fasta vass, I know what he's like with you, Dorian. I kept seeing it, all last night. He treats you like he fucking owns you, and I'm part of it." She shook her head again, biting her lip. "It makes me so angry. Not at you. At him. At least I wanted this. I don't imagine you did."

"I thought this was what I wanted," Dorian murmured, picking up the quill from the desk and turning it over in his hands. "I just wanted to make my parents happy. Father especially. I had grown tired of being a disappointment."

Livia muttered something under her breath that Dorian could not hear, but he guessed it was laden with profanities. After she had finished cursing, she was silent for a moment, drawing her knees close to her chest. "Weeks ago, I asked you to be certain that you loved him… Aeric. Are you?"

Picturing the damned elf's serious face, Dorian smiled. "I am."

Livia returned the smile with one of her own. "I'm glad. You deserve to be happy for once." She gave a long sigh. "I guess this means I have to head back to Qarinus right away. Once we tell your father, he'll try to stop us."

"Undoubtedly," Dorian agreed. "Do you need to stop by Skyhold for your things?"

"No, just send along whatever I've left behind," Livia replied. "I have enough to get by for the journey. I'll let my handmaidens know what's happening. We can trust them." She paused. "I'll miss you," she said, almost shyly.

"And I, you. You remind me of home, and of what it could be one day." Dorian gave a sad little smile. "No one else I'd rather be in a sham marriage with."

Livia laughed. "Nobody else would put up with you, you little shit."

"Of that I have no doubt, my lady," Dorian replied with a chuckle.

Yawning, Livia beckoned him to the bed as she lay back down. "Come. Get some sleep. It will be a long journey later if you don't get some rest at least."

With a nod, Dorian got up from his chair and crossed the room. Filled with sudden affection for her, he pulled her into an awkward embrace. "Thank you, for everything," he told her before slipping under the covers beside her.

"Fucking sentimental fool," she whispered with a sniff, her voice muffled against her pillow.

"I know."