Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for her thoughtful betaing and support!
Gaspard had excused himself to greet other guests. In the moment after Thule was left alone by Gaspard and before Lady Monfische swooped down on him, no doubt anxious to add a dwarf to the collection of exotic ex-lovers she claimed, Leliana caught him lightly by the sleeve and drew him away. She enjoyed the momentary disconcertion on Lady Monfische's face; a true player of the Game would have been able to carry off that moment as though she had not intended to approach the Inquisitor at all. Point to Leliana, points lost by her ladyship.
Ah, there really was nothing like the Game.
Josephine joined them as well; an uncharacteristically nervous Josephine. Normally, she enjoyed the Game as Leliana did, the two of them together practically unbeatable, but this Lord Otranto her mother wished her to marry had her totally off-kilter. Leliana hoped he would crawl out of whatever hole he came from soon, be dealt with and sent back, and be out of their lives, ceasing to be a distraction, very soon.
In the meanwhile, she would make do with what she had. She had won with weaker cards than these before.
"Please remember, Inquisitor, that how you speak to the Court is a matter of life and death," Josephine was saying.
"Sticks and stones, Josephine," Thule said, smiling at her.
"Ah, not here, Inquisitor. Here the sticks and the stones are what you hope they will use to avoid the way they can flay you with their words. Trust me," Leliana said to him, wishing her earnestness didn't show through so thoroughly.
"Every word, every gesture is evaluated for weakness," Josephine agreed. "It is no simple matter of etiquette and protocol."
"You ladies know we've been over this already, right? Many times," Thule reminded them both.
"It does no harm to go over it again."
"I'm not intimidated by stuffy Orlesian nobles," he said rather stiffly.
Leliana looked down at him sharply. "No one is suggesting that you are. However, you must take them seriously. Orlais is arguably the most powerful nation in Thedas … and they will argue it, at any chance they get. But they feel that power slipping, and they are desperate to retain it. You represent another powerful entity, perched directly on their border, and your power is growing. They admire the mystery about you, the strangeness, but they fear and despise it at the same time."
"These people burn cities as a diversionary tactic and assassinate one another as a feint," Josephine added. "The Game is like Wicked Grace played to the death. You must never reveal your cards."
"Well, first, I'd like to point out that even you, my lady Montilyet, can't beat me at Wicked Grace, and second, that both of you love this Game you're so anxious to warn me about more than you do a pair of finely crafted shoes."
Leliana smiled at the Inquisitor, liking his confidence and his incisiveness, even while she found them worrying. "You are not wrong. There is really nothing like this. Nonetheless … you must remember that when you meet the Empress, the eyes of the entire court will be upon you." She allowed her smile to deepen and warm and become genuine humor for a moment. "You were safer in the Fade with the Fear demon."
Thule rolled his eyes at her. "Aren't you both just full of joy and light this evening."
"We do our best." Josephine straightened her jacket. "If you will excuse me, I see le Chevalier du Chelle, and I promised to speak to him." She winked at Leliana. "He wants to know about the Iron Bull."
"Tell him to come find out for himself," Leliana called after her. She looked down at Thule. "Everything will be fine, Inquisitor. I will see to that."
"And I trust you."
Leliana was momentarily startled by the sincerity in his voice. "You do, don't you? Has no one warned you of the danger of trusting spies?"
"I'm from the Carta; I've been thoroughly warned about the danger of trusting anyone. But the danger of not trusting can be as great. You have earned my trust, over and over again." He smiled at someone across the courtyard. "Is it me, or is that woman wearing a rooster on her shoulder?"
Leliana didn't even have to turn to see who he meant. "Lady Dellamore. She affects to be 'rural', but the bird is imported. She's never set foot outside a city." She smiled. "Be prepared for many terrible and off-color jokes about her cock."
"Am I permitted to joke about mine?"
"Very carefully, Inquisitor. Do try not to accidentally betroth yourself in the process." Leliana let her eyes twinkle at him, and then, very carefully, she let him out into the waters of the Imperial court.
Lilias was glad that Alistair seemed determined not to leave her side. For all that the beautiful gown Varric had sent made her feel grand and imposing, she also felt a bit like an impostor, and the whispers about her past were beginning to wear her down. That they were intended to do so, she knew perfectly well … but they were hitting their mark, all the same.
"They're whispering about everyone," Alistair assured her. "You, me, the Inquisitor, Cullen …"
"They mostly seem to want to sleep with Cullen."
"Apparently everyone does." He looked at her sideways, and she caught the unspoken question.
"Can't say that I ever did, but he was very different in Kirkwall."
"So you might think differently now?" There was surprise and, yes, jealousy on Alistair's face—a flattering emotion, until Lilias remembered that Cullen had also been involved with her cousin.
"Is that any of your concern?" she asked him coldly.
"I'm sorry," he said, instantly contrite. "That was out of line."
"Thank you."
They joined Cassandra, who was standing at the top of the stairs waiting for the doors into the grand ballroom to open. She looked distinctly, and purposefully, unhappy to be there. "This dress uniform is preposterous," she snapped. "Formal armor would have been better."
"Difficult to dance in formal armor," Alistair suggested.
She froze him with a single look from her grey eyes. "We are not here for entertainment, Your Majesty."
He shrugged, unperturbed by her. "I am."
"How fortunate for you."
"Oh, now, you wouldn't want to be here for pure enjoyment anyway. You vastly prefer being here on business."
Cassandra gave a very small nod. "Perhaps so. Nonetheless, must they keep us standing here half the night? These formalities are enough to drive a person mad."
Lilias frowned. "Aren't you a princess? Surely you grew up with this kind of thing."
"Yes. I did. Which is precisely why I have so little patience for it now. I am well aware of how empty it is underneath." She looked around, clucking her tongue in disapproval. "All these people, spending a year's food allowance for many families on a single gown, to disport themselves at an event they will not enjoy because they are too busy trying to score points in an imaginary game that no one ever wins, and yet they think themselves important? Important people are the ones who are out there every day fighting with their two hands, making a real difference."
She stopped, her cheeks pink from the force of her emotion, and from the sudden realization that they both knew she was talking about the Inquisitor.
Alistair smiled. "Of course," he pointed out, "anyone not born a princess had better be very careful how vehemently they rant about all these trappings."
"A good point," Cassandra agreed. "And perhaps I was too hasty in my comments. This … is not my idea of a pleasant evening."
Lilias smiled. "It isn't really mine, either, although I intend to enjoy it while I can." She squeezed Alistair's arm, glad she was here with him. In truth, she couldn't think of anyone she would rather attend a ball with, which was probably a dangerous feeling, but at the moment, she couldn't bring herself to put it aside.
Cullen was standing as far from the gaggle of giggling young women who were staring at him as he could, with his arms folded across his chest forbiddingly, hoping that would deter them. Thus far, it only seemed to have offered encouragement, which was the last thing he had intended.
Out of nowhere, he felt a pair of slender fingers pinch his rear, and the surprise was complete enough that he couldn't suppress a very undignified yelp as he leaped away from the offending digits. He turned to see Sera, her red uniform already disheveled, giggling at him.
"What were you thinking?" he demanded.
"Thinking it was funny. You've got a stick up there, you know. Might want to look into taking it out someday."
"Sera, could you, please, just for once, attempt not to be ridiculous?"
She frowned at him as though he was some variety of simpleton. "No."
"Of course. What was I thinking?"
"Dunno. Weren't, I suppose. You want to know?"
"Know what?"
"What my friends are saying?"
"Oh. Yes, I do." He was still waiting for the signal that would say the Inquisition's people were all in place, and was a little bit frightened and a little bit impressed that Sera's network was apparently already in operation.
"Watch the elves. Shifty."
"Shifty?" he echoed. That wasn't much of a report.
"Yeah. Nervous. Dropping things. Walking off in the middle of tasks." She very definitely thought he was a simpleton now. "Like you could get whipped, or worse, for doing at the Empress's mucky-muck mess."
Cullen looked at her, understanding. "I see. That is … interesting indeed. Are your friends going to keep us posted?"
"Yeah. I'll check in again in a bit. Got to be introduced first." She tipped her head toward the doors of the ballroom, which were opening now.
Inside the ballroom, the majordomo intoned, "Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden, Hero of the Fifth Blight. Lilias Amell Hawke, former Champion of Kirkwall."
Whispers rippled across the ballroom, but Lilias held her head high as Alistair led her down the steps and across the dance floor to be formally presented to the Empress.
Gaspard was introduced next, and then it was the Inquisition's turn. "Lord Inquisitor Thule Cadash. Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of the Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful."
Well, that hurt, Cullen reflected. As if the Templars needed a rogue dwarf from the Carta to shepherd them and hold the ends of their leash. It hurt even more to admit that they had, that he had abandoned his own order and left it to another to save it.
Thule and Celene were bowing to each other across the ballroom now, as the presenter's voice continued above the din, which had grown significantly in volume after the Inquisitor was announced.
"Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena …"
The list of names seemed to go on and on until Cassandra's voice rose fiercely, piercing the ballroom. "Get on with it."
The presenter did so, seemingly unperturbed.
"Pentaghast," he finished. "Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed."
Cassandra shook her head at him as he continued to heap titles on her, but she moved forward.
They announced Vivienne next, and Sera, who had given some ridiculous name that she giggled at and no one else did, and then it was Cullen's turn. As he straightened his jacket and walked across the ballroom, not even hearing the announcements for Josephine, Leliana, and Nathaniel, he tried to forget that was just a farmer's son from Honnleath in Ferelden, just a broken down ex-Templar lyrium addict, and remember that he was here representing the Inquisition, an organization that was going to save Thedas from ruin and hopefully make a few people's lives better in the process. He was the Commander of that organization, and as such, had every right to be here. So why did he feel like such an impostor?
He felt a headache coming on, beginning to tighten his temples, and he surreptitiously touched the little vial of liquid Dagna had given him, grateful for the reminder of her understanding and her support. Strengthened, he moved on to the dais and made his bow to the Empress of Orlais.
Maybe he would actually find a moment to write his sister. She might enjoy reading about this.