Dorian levered himself up on one arm, and looked at the man sleeping beside him. Asleep and at peace, those freckles made him look very young. A brief frown came to Dorian's face when he realized he didn't know how old Matril actually was. He imagined the man could pass from anywhere between sixteen and forty with little effort. Come to think of it, he probably had. And his hair had fallen into his face again. Dorian refrained from brushing aside the offending strands.

"Go ahead."

He blinked at the sound of Matril's voice. "Pardon?"

"My hair is irritating you." The man didn't even open his eyes.

"I am starting to suspect..." He soothed the hair back. "You do it on purpose."

"Now why would I tempt you to such an intimate touch?" His lips curled back in a smile. A frown came to Dorian's face. Matril must have sensed it, because he opened his eyes and looked up. "Dorian?"

"It is on purpose. A young, vulnerable look that invites touching, creating a false intimacy." Dorian sighed. "How many have you lured in with those careless locks?"

"Do you really want me to answer that, Dorian?" Matril sighed.

"No." He laid back. "I suppose I don't. No more than I want to think about..." He took a deep breath. "How you may have acquired the skills I enjoyed during the night."

"The only part that matters in the here and now, Dorian, is that we both enjoyed ourselves." Matril intertwined his fingers with Dorian's. "And nothing caught fire."

"Tell me something true." He ran his thumb across the back of Matril's hand. "A good part of your life."

"There was Bridget." His smile was both fond and sad.

"How did you meet this Bridget?" Dorian made himself more comfortable.

"Bridget and I were sent to collect funds from a particular merchant. I had never met her before, I knew only that she was Tan's niece. For that reason alone, I was on guard and prepared to hate her." Matril lay back on the bed. "We handled the job successfully. It was just after the hand-off that things went horribly, horribly wrong. Our contact's people picked that moment to betray him. Things happened, and well, Bridget and I ended up fleeing through the storm drains, with me wearing nothing more than a stolen altar cloth, and -"

"How, exactly, did you end up wearing nothing more than a stolen altar cloth?"

"If you interrupt, I am not going to tell the story."

"My apologies, Amatus. Do go on."

#

"Inquisitor..."

He turned to see both Leliana and Brehan standing there with concerned faces. "Yes?"

"We may have a problem." Leliana sighed. "Regarding the truth of your identity."

"How large a problem?" Matril folded his arms.

"Josephine had received two inquiries from members of House Trevelyan inquiring as to your specific place within the family tree. Someone, it seems, has been asking questions." Leliana shook her head. "Other than us."

"Ben'Hassrath?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We don't think so." Brehan shook his head. "Iron Bull not withstanding, they do know how to be subtle. Someone is trying to draw attention to the questions."

"Josephine has managed to smooth things over without direct answers, but if they keep pushing..." She sighed. "We may have to go with the bastard story. Find a deceased member who cannot deny the accusation. It is to the advantage of the Trevelyans to accept the story and claim you."

"The trouble in part stems from exactly that. Whichever branch does claim you gains prestige from your status as Andraste's Herald." Brehan chuckled. "We could probably pick a living member and they'd eagerly report how the sun shone upon your birth."

"Wycome may be the best choice then." The further away from Lukas, the better. Matril nodded to his spymasters. "They have long been outshone by the Ostwick branch. And they have many templars among their ranks as well. Templars siring bastards is common enough."

"What do you think?" Leliana turned toward Brehan. "Servant, or tavern wench?"

"Leliana." Brehan shook his head. "This is history we are creating." He smiled. "Grateful peasant girl rescued from a wicked maleficar."

"Ah, the hero angle." Leliana smiled. "Potential. A sweet and romantic love story cute tragically short by the valiant death of said templar before he could learn of his son and make good on his promise to marry our heroine?"

"Leaving behind a tragic keepsake." Brehan tilted his head, then shrugged. "I'm sure we can steal something appropriate."

"Why mess with a classic?" Leliana waved a hand. "Engraved Andrastian amulet."

"Well..." Matril chuckled. "You two have fun and tell me the story later. I'm eager to learn my past."

"Let's go over names." Leliana started walking away.

"Those do tend to be the problematic part when setting a tale to verse." Brehan nodded as he followed.

"Ugh. Remember how hard it was finding a good rhyme to pair with Brosca?"

#

"What..." Cassandra narrowed her eyes. "Do you want?"

"A peace offering." Matril sank to his knees, and held the book out in front of him as though presenting her with a crown.

"Stop being ridicu..." Her eyes abruptly widened, and she stared at the item in his hands. "Is that?"

"An advance copy of the latest issue of Swords and Shields."

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, started to step forward, stepped back, then stepped forward and snatched it out of his hand. "How did you...?"

"Varric is not cheap..." He rose. "But he can be bought." He took a deep breath. "All joking aside, Cassandra..." He sighed. "I do hope that you can forgive me for how thoroughly I have disappointed you, and that you can find it in your heart to give me a second chance."

"That's the..." She glared. "I don't know what is more infuriating. That I know you are manipulating me, or that it is working."

"I am being truthful here, Cassandra. I respect you more than I have anyone in a long time. You are a woman of deep honor and nobility, and I did not realize how much I valued your good opinion of me until I lost it." He bowed. "Please give me another chance."

"I..." She took a deep breath. "One. Exactly one."

"I thank you." He smiled.

Cassandra nodded, then looked down at the book in her hand. "I wonder if I have time to read the first part?"

#

"You want them to be proud of you, so that you can be proud of you." Cole frowned at him.

"I want them to..." Matril sighed. "It's complicated Cole. I am not sure I know how to explain it to you."

"But you are you regardless of whether they like you or not." Cole tilted his head. "You choose your mask, not them."

"There is no me without them, Cole." He leaned against the wall, then sank down to sit against it.

"The weight of them is heavy. You are theirs, but you must be you. There is no one else for you to be." Cole sat across from him. "You kept the name she gave you."

"There was no other keepsake she could give me." Matril shook his head.

"It was wrong of her to ask."

"Cole, stop." Matril's voice was sharp. He sighed when Cole shrank away, then drew his knees up and rested his arms atop them. "Sometimes the cruel cut is the only kindness left one can give. I would have thought you would understand."

"But there were others who would have done it. It didn't have to be you." Cole shifted. "I would have done it for you."

"You weren't there, Cole."

"Wishing, washing, weeping. So many lives taken but it's her blood you see on your hands."

"I drove a dagger into her heart. That's not..." He closed his eyes, then reopened them. "Tell me. Was there anything else I could have done to save her?"

"I can make you forget."

"No." Matril shook his head. "No, Cole that you must..." He met Cole's eyes. "That you must never do."

"If you lose the thread it all comes unraveled." Cole frowned. "If you don't want me to cut it away, you should tie it in knots." He shook his head. "You made a mask of iron so it wasn't you he was hurting, and she wore a mask of silk so that she wouldn't see."

"It is the Game, Cole. Not all aspects of it are pleasant."

"If she had killed him for what he did, she wouldn't have lost."

"Shut." He rose, staring down at Cole. "Up."

Cole crawled backwards, staring at him with wide eyed terror. The spirit scrambled to his feet and vanished into the darkness.

#

He gave the dress uniform a critical look. "Red?" He raised an eyebrow at Josephine.

"We thought it would stand out better in the crowd." Josephine nodded.

"It's really not the best color for everyone though. Pure white would have been a better option, and have the same effect."

"Red won't show bloodstains." Cullen frowned as he looked down at a report.

"Josephine, make a note." Matril shook his head. "In future questions of fashion, Captain Practical over there does not get a vote."

"Yes, Inquisitor." Josephine smiled.

"I..." Cullen shook his head. "Wanted formal armor."

#

Matril nodded at the gate ahead of them. "I am laying claim to the Antivan bathhouse, effective immediately."

Varric blinked. "How'd you know my estate had an Antiva bathhouse?"

"This particular estate was acquired in a card game."

"Yeah, while we were in..." Varric buried his face in the palm of his hand. "Andraste's ass. That was you?" He blinked. "How the hell did you..." He stared up at Matril. "Lose playing Diamondback with Fenris?"

"Intentionally." Matril grinned.

"You know the previous owners actually sent assassins after Hawke?" Varric shook his head. "He had to kill almost three dozen of them."

"Josephine..." Matril turned toward her. "When we get back to Skyhold remind me to send Hawke a fruit basket and a thank you note."

#

"Relax, Commander." Matril chuckled.

"I have things I really should be doing." Cullen shook his head.

"We need one of these for Skyhold." Iron Bull laid back, relaxing in the steaming bath.

"Surely we have enough builders to manage something of this sort." Dorian sounded half-asleep.

"I should check on the..." Cullen started to reach for a towel.

"Cullen Stanton Rutherford." Matril sat up, making his voice a sharp bark. "Sit down, and commence relaxing at once. That is an order."

Cullen laughed. "Yes, Inquisitor."

"I think the Inquisitor has to be the one lying," Krem said.

"Nope." Varric snickered. "Me that time. Hawke has never actually torn a door off the hinges."

"I saw the door." Cullen started shaking his head.

"And you've also met Aveline." Varric grinned.

"In that case, I must ask..." Solas tilted his head at Matril. "How does one acquire a great bear while in a quiet Antivan village?"

"An excellent lead into round four." Matril smiled.

#

Dorian was just reading up to fix that errant lock of hair again when several men approached. He reached for his staff instead, and saw Cassandra's hand go to the hilt of her sword. "Herald of Andraste..." The man in the lead smirked.

Matril squared his shoulders. "To what do I owe the pleasure, sir...?"

"I am Lord Myron Trevelyan, of Wycome." The man flicked his eyes. "I see your Tevinter handler has accompanied you. How dare you embroil my family's good name in this farce?"

A chill went through him. The man's shouting was drawing entirely too many eyes. "Lord Myron..." Matril shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"That mark on your hand is Tevinter blood magic." The man pointed at Dorian. "Proof stands right behind you. And you dare claim my family name?" He jutted out his chin.

"I see someone has been filling your head with tall tales, cousin." Matril smiled, and held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Come, let me buy you a drink."

"The man is calling you a liar, Inquisitor." One of the men behind Lord Myron spoke up, smiling. "Are you truly going to let such an insult pass?"

"We live in a world of rumors." Matril kept his voice calm, even managing to inject a note of good humor. He shook his head. "I cannot be angry at someone who merely wishes to ensure our family name is treated with respect."

"I denounce you." Lord Myron glared. "If you are a man of honor, you will answer the charge." He laid a hand on his sword hilt.

He glanced at Matril. The man knew his way around a dagger and was one of the finest archers he'd ever seen, but a sword duel was another matter entirely. Cassandra stepped up. Apparently he wasn't the only one with such concerns. "If it is a duel you wish -" She moved to stand in front of Matril. At the top of a nearby set of stairs, Iron Bull and Blackwall began moving in their direction.

"This does not concern you, Seeker, only the bastard behind you." Lord Myron sneered at her.

"So unless you are going to try to claim to be secretly a Trevelyan, Lady Pentaghast..." The man behind Lord Myron's smile widened. "I suggest you step aside. This is strictly a family affair."

"Well, then..." A new voice spoke from somewhere to their left. Dorian turned to see a well-dressed man with dark red hair coming toward them. His walk put Dorian somewhat in mind of a stalking cat, and his smile was pure arrogance. He glanced at Matril, and noted with some concern that the man had gone pale at the sight of the newcomer. "I suppose that makes this my concern."

Lord Myron took a step back, his face startled. "Bann Lukas, I..."

The newcomer spared a glance for Matril as he moved to stand between Lord Myron and Cassandra. "It appears someone has been misusing my family's name."

The smile returned to Lord Myron's face. "It does indeed, my lord, I..."

"Lord Myron, family matters are to be discussed privately, not shouted before the whole of Orlais." Bann Trevelyan put a hand on his sword hilt. "And my little brother may be a bastard, but I am the only one that gets to call him that."

#

He stared at Lukas, not quite believing what the man had just said. From the look on his face, neither did Lord Myron. "My lord, I..." Lord Myron shook his head.

"You've issued a challenge." Lukas bowed. "As head of house Trevalyan..." He drew his sword. "I accept."

Matril saw realization on the faces of the men who were obviously Venatori. Lukas's presence had effectively gutted their plan. The man who had spoken made a growling sound, and then made the fatal mistake of drawing his blade. As did the others. He went for his bow as Cassandra and Lukas spun into the fray back to back as though they had done it a thousand time.

And it was over before either he or Dorian could bring their talents to bear. Iron Bull and Blackwall hadn't even made it to the base of the stairs. Lukas kicked a corpse off the end of his blade, then pointed the tip of it at Lord Myron. "My father had an affair with a serving woman, resulting in the birth of a bastard to the Trevelyan line. Lord Josef Trevelyan has always considered the man to be his son, and wishes it be known that he carries the family name with our blessing. This is my father's word, and I will not allow my family's honor to be questioned." He narrowed his eyes. "Least of all by a grasping little sycophant who would sell his soul to the Venatori to pay off his gambling debts."

"I understand, Lord Trevelyan." Lord Myron started bowing as he backed away. Titters from the crowd made him go crimson before he finally abandoned dignity altogether and just started running.

Slowly, the crowd began to clear. He swallowed as Lukas turned around and walked toward him. "Thank -"

He was cut off by Lukas grabbing him by the front of his coat, and yanking him both forward and up until their faces were inches away from each other. "My little sister died on that mountain." Lukas's voice was little more than a growl. "You will find the thing responsible, and you will end him."

"Yes." Matril nodded.

Lukas released him. "Good enough." He shook his head. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the tavern." He stalked away. The remains of the crowd parted to let him through.

#

"What happened?" Josephine came towards them, Cullen a step behind her. Leliana and Brehan followed a few moments later. "We heard there was a duel?"

"Duel may be overstating the matter." Cassandra folded her arms and glanced at Matril.

Matril swallowed. "Lukas Trevelyan is here."

"Alright, I can..." Josephine started gesturing with her pen. "I can think of..."

"He has publicly acknowledged me as his illegitimate little brother." Matril gave a small laugh. "Then he humiliated the shit out of the guy who brought the subject up."

"I assume you two are previously acquainted?" Dorian raised an eyebrow.

He winced. "Yes."

"We should find him." Cullen shook his head. "Did he say where he was going?"

"To the tavern." Cassandra shook her head.

"That's less than helpful." Josephine sighed. "Do you have any idea how many taverns there are in Halamshiral?"

"A hundred and twelve." Leliana, Brehan, and Matril answered simultaneously.

Josephine just stared at them as Cullen snickered. Brehan shook his head. "I'll go track him down." He nodded, and left the room.

"Amatus..." Dorian scratched his head. "Didn't you say you were using the name Otwin Trevelyan at the Conclave itself?"

"Yes." Matril sighed.

"As I recall, Otwin is an actual person."

"Yes."

"Lukas's actual younger brother."

Matril winced again. "Yes."

"Do you think he knows that you were..."

"Oh sweet Maker." Matril rubbed his face. "I hope not."

#

"I want to buy you a drink." Iron Bull seated himself on the stool next to the nobleman.

Lukas shrugged. "Won't turn down a pint. You'd be the Iron Bull?"

"Yep. And you'd be Lord Trevelyan. Appreciate what you did back there." Iron Bull shrugged. "Thought for a minute shit was about to get really bad. Take it you and the Inquisitor know each other?"

"I once threw him out of my estate."

"Ah."

"From a third-floor window." Lukas drank from his mug. "The man's survival ability is rather impressive, I'll give him that." He looked around the bar. "Thought about starting a brawl, but this place doesn't have enough furniture worth breaking."

"Could find a better class place."

"Those are full of nobles."

"Yeah, be fun to see them all scatter when we start throwing tables."

"Tomorrow is going to be busy." Lukas gave Iron Bull an appraising look. "Why don't we cut to the chase and go break a bed?"

Iron Bull laughed. "Sounds good to me."

#

"How do you and Bann Trevelyan know each other?"

"You really want to know?" Matril raised an eyebrow at Cassandra.

"I do not want to know. I am concerned I may need to."

Matril sighed. "We..." He shrugged. "Had a thing."

"A..." Cassandra folded her arms. "Thing?"

"He won a grand melee, had gold to spend. I was happy to let him spend it on me, and we spent some time in bed together. Then I robbed him of some family heirlooms."

Cassandra ran a hand down her face. "Does he know you robbed him of some family heirlooms?"

"Possibly. Maybe. Yes." Matril sighed. "He confronted me. I tried threatening him into silence. He threw me out a window." Matril rubbed the back of his neck. "A third-floor window. I got really lucky on the landing, and got the hell out of Ostwick."

"And then you decided to use his brother's name as your alias?" Cassandra gave him a disbelieving look.

"He threw me out a window."

"Well, let's be fair now." Brehan shrugged as he entered. "Who hasn't thought about throwing you out a window?"

"Where is he now?" Cassandra asked.

"Iron Bull found the right tavern before I did."

"And?"

"They got a room. In the interest of preserving my fragile remnants of sanity, I decided not to pursue the investigation any further tonight." Brehan shrugged. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go drink away the mental images."

"Lukas and..." Matril stared. "There is absolutely no way that is going to end well."