Thank you all for reading! Special thanks to suilven for everything she does!
Lilias should have felt nervous, here on the arm of the King of Ferelden, about to meet the Empress of Orlais … but she wasn't. Instead, she found it all so unbelievable: that here she was, a penniless apostate's daughter, standing in the midst of the most powerful people in Thedas. Carver would have enjoyed this, she thought, imagining her giant brother standing here, trying to be polite. The thought made her smile involuntarily, and that drew the attention of the Empress.
"The former Champion of Kirkwall," Celene said in her mannered tone. Lilias wondered if she ever got tired of speaking that way. "What a surprise to have you here."
"It was a bit of a surprise to me, as well, Your Grace."
"How … generous of His Majesty King Alistair to invite you." Celene's eyes moved to Alistair's face, studying him. "You look well, Alistair."
"As do you," he replied, giving her as much of a courtly bow as he could without letting go of Lilias. The message he was sending was clear, Lilias thought with some misgivings. He was making an open avowal of affection, if not of intentions, in front of the entire court. She wished she had realized that sooner. Then again, what did she have to lose? She was already disgraced. If he wound up with egg on his face because he couldn't let go of his former lover's memory, it was his reputation that hung in the balance.
Behind them, Lilias heard the Inquisition's names being announced. Over her shoulder she glimpsed Thule making his way across the floor with Grand Duke Gaspard, and she exhaled in relief, knowing her time under Celene's direct scrutiny was almost at an end.
Celene and Alistair had been exchanging barbed pleasantries on topics regarding their shared border.
"So interesting to see you here with the Inquisition, Alistair," Celene cooed. "Such excellent work they're doing."
"They are. Good work, necessary work. They've already solved the mystery of the Conclave, and I support their fight against Corypheus."
"As do I. On that, at least, we can all agree."
Next to Celene, a sharp-featured blonde woman with a dramatic and shocking haircut drew in a breath. As far as Lilias could tell, she was the only one who had heard it, and she watched the blonde clearly consider interjecting herself into the conversation and then think better of it. Her glittering eyes settled on Alistair, contemplatively at first, and then with an avid gleam that had Lilias clinging more tightly to his arm.
Celene turned her gaze on Lilias again. "You must have so many entertaining stories, Champion. I have always wanted to visit Kirkwall, but alas, the affairs of state …" She gave a tiny but exaggerated shrug and an accompanying smile meant to hint at her own importance and Lilias's lack of any. "Later tonight, perhaps we can sit together and you can tell me about your experiences." Her eyes darted to Alistair, as well, her meaning clear.
Lilias smiled. "Many of my stories end badly, Your Grace, but if you wish to weep, I can tell them to you."
"Weeping is merely the other face of laughter, my dear," Celene told her. "We must do both on a regular basis."
It was the most human Celene had seemed thus far, and Lilias bowed slightly, recognizing the truth of the words. Laughter had been decidedly missing from her life of late, drowned by too much weeping. Perhaps it was time to turn that on its head for a while.
She and Alistair moved out of the way as Thule and the others came up the steps.
Thule, also, found it amusing to be standing in front of the Empress of Orlais, thinking that less than a year ago, his only interest in attending such an affair would have been in what he could steal. He had looked at countless pieces of jewelry and other objects of art tonight, and his fingers hadn't itched once. He wondered if that meant he was reformed, or if some innate drive in him had been erased. Had he lost his edge? Well, he supposed tonight would tell that tale.
Gaspard bowed to Celene and the lady who stood partially in the shadows behind her. "Cousin. My dear sister."
"Grand Duke," Celene said, with what sounded like genuine warmth in her voice. "We are always honored when your presence graces our court."
"Don't waste my time with pleasantries," Gaspard snapped. "We have business to conclude."
"Always so hasty, Gaspard. Enjoy the party! We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests."
Gaspard made a complicated—and in Thule's opinion, rather silly—bow that involved flapping his arms like a goose's wings, and stepped aside, and then the eyes of the Empress of Orlais were on Thule. The eyes of the most powerful woman in the world. When had she last looked on a tattooed dwarf? Had she ever done so when the dwarf was neither a sideshow nor a criminal? Certainly, none had ever stood before her in a position of authority to match her own. Thule squared his shoulders and stood his tallest, throwing back his head and meeting her gaze squarely, to let her know that he was not intimidated.
"Lord Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present our cousin, the Grand Duchess of Lydes, without whom this gathering would not have been possible."
The second lady moved forward into the light. Half her head was shaved, her blonde hair falling dramatically over her face, nearly concealing one eye. The visible eye looked Thule over coolly. "What an unexpected pleasure," she said emotionlessly. Certainly without any hint of real pleasure. "I was not aware that the Inquisition would be part of our festivities." She injected a certain amount of naked flirtation into her gaze, which Thule found disquieting. He had been the recipient of female attention often enough to see when it was genuine and when it was put-on, and this was decidedly the latter. Melting back into the shadows, the Grand Duchess promised, "We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor."
"I look forward to it," he said, bowing slightly, as he imagined he was expected to do.
Celene smiled at him. "Your arrival at court is like a cool wind on a summer's day. Most refreshing."
"I am delighted to be here, Your Majesty."
"We have heard much of your exploits—they have made grand tales for long evenings. How do you find Halamshiral?"
"I have no words, Your Majesty. Halamshiral has many beauties, and I couldn't do them justice." He didn't add that of them all, the one he found most beautiful was the woman at his side, standing there in her impeccably tailored uniform, bristling with hostility at being forced to attend the event. He hoped Cassandra knew who he meant, but he rather imagined she didn't.
That his words had pleased Celene was evident from the easing of tension in Josephine on his other side.
Celene nodded. "Your modesty does you credit, Inquisitor, and speaks well for the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom. We look forward to watching you dance."
"I'm afraid that's one delight I may have to ask you to forego, Your Majesty. I believe the figure I would cut on the dance floor would be … rather unseemly." He regretted not being able to dance with Cassandra—surely the prince she dreamed of would sweep her off her feet by moving her around the room. He could dance, and dance well, but it was difficult to avoid looking like a fool dancing with someone two feet taller than you were.
"A pity, but understandable, indeed. My lady Pentaghast, my lady Montilyet, certainly you will grace my ballroom?"
Josephine uttered an immediate assent, but Cassandra merely glowered, and to judge from the actual mirth in Celene's laugh, she had expected as much.
Thule led the others away from the Empress and up the steps to the main floor again, where they all scattered according to their interests. He noticed with some amusement that Cullen had already attracted a following, a gaggle of young ladies and gentlemen fanning themselves and making not-particularly-discreet comments about Cullen's many assets. Cullen's ears were as red as his uniform.
Sera was in the corner, giggling with an elven servant. The elf looked nervous, and was relieved when Sera disappeared, mincing her way through the crowd in imitation of a woman in exceptionally high-heeled shoes.
Next to him, Vivienne murmured, "You didn't embarrass yourself as much as I feared. Well done, my dear."
"Thank you. Enjoying yourself?"
She laughed. "Why, of course! This is the Game. If I didn't enjoy it, I'd be dead by now." She tipped him a wink and moved off through the crowd, greeting most of the revelers by name.
Leliana tugged lightly at Thule's sleeve, and he followed her onto one of the balconies. She took a glass from a passing tray and handed it to him. "Pretend to sip. It's best not to trust anything you didn't pour for yourself."
"Ah, just like the Carta." He smiled.
"Indeed." She took a seat on a low bench, which put her close enough to Thule to whisper, "What did the Duke say?"
"His finger points at Briala."
Leliana nodded, having expected as much. "She is up to something, certainly, but she can't be our focus. The best place to strike at Celene is from her side, and there we may run into a challenge. You see, the empress is fascinated by mysticism. Foreseeing the future, speaking with the dead … all that sort of rubbish."
"Not uncommon amongst the nobility."
"No, that is true. But at the moment, it has made Celene uniquely vulnerable to … someone potentially quite dangerous." Leliana could see Morrigan in her mind's eye, dark and beautiful and dangerous, and always so sure that she knew more than anyone else. And she remembered those cool, drawling tones late at night, sibilantly hissing promises and lies in Leyden's ear. Would the cost have been too high? Leliana wondered in despair. Had Leyden taken Morrigan's bargain, would they all have lived to regret it? Certainly, they had lived to regret the fact that she hadn't.
"Who?" Thule asked, bringing Leliana back to the present.
"Her 'occult advisor'. An apostate who charmed the empress and key members of the court, as if by magic."
Thule's eyebrows rose, altering the lines of his tattoo. "How can Celene openly keep an apostate in the Imperial court?"
Leliana shrugged. "She is Celene. She can do much as she likes. And there has always been a position for a mage in the Imperial Court. Vivienne held it last, and she made it into a tool of political power. Before that, those who held it were little more than court jesters."
"Are you saying you think this 'occult advisor' is controlling the minds of the court? That's powerful blood magic."
She felt a faint hint of guilt at implying that Morrigan was a blood mage. Morrigan had always been openly contemptuous of blood magic as the resource of those who weren't intelligent enough to succeed by any other means. But how better to make Thule understand appropriately how intelligent and cunning and deceitful and dangerous Morrigan was? It was imperative that Leliana be certain he was on his toes, prepared for whatever wiles she might turn in his direction. She was not above trying to seduce him … and Leliana wanted to prevent that for an entire constellation of reasons. Chiefly to save the world, yes, from whatever Morrigan might have in mind—but she also thought of Cassandra, and how devastated her friend would be to lose the Inquisitor's regard.
"She's worth investigating," she said now, not committing herself to any specific implication. "We cannot be sure of anything here."