Halamshiral was a beautiful palace all in all. Alistair had to give Celene the credit for that. As the Empress entered from the balcony where she had spoken at length with Inquisitor Bethany, Fereldan's King felt an aire of ease come over him. The Empress almost immediately approached a slight, unassuming female elf to the side of the door and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. It was brief, but the exchange was an open book to Alistair as it might not be to others. It was love.

Alistair squeezed his wife's hand and felt her turn to smile at him. He then let his eyes dart to the dance floor. The song was slow, sweet even, and delightful. Morrigan followed his gaze and nodded slightly, feeling him edge them to the floor. They had both danced often, their motions serving to solidify the solidarity they were known to possess. Now, however, it would be legend even in Orlais. They turned together in perfect harmony of motion, each with a serenity that seemed intrinsic.

"I could get used to Orlesian fashion," Morrigan noted, pressing closer against her partner.

Alistair followed the next motion, briefly letting his gaze fall. The dress was certainly not as low cut as many of her favorites, but it boosted her bosom much better than most. "Think we can get better trade agreements if you do? I mean- is that the dress or the corseting? You know what, let's have it a surprise for later."

Morrigan gave her beautiful, low chuckle. Alistair let the dance take them to a full spin, then pulled her near. As he did, he noticed another couple take the center of the floor...

Marian shook her head, the intricate braiding that ran through her hair giving way to simple loose strands as Nathaniel ran his fingers through before wrapping an arm at her waist and taking her opposing hand. She shuddered at the contact as the hand at her waist raised, the plunged back of her dress meaning he touched her bare skin. It was electric.

The entire night they had stayed removed, a bit aloof and apart from each other. The ruse had been necessary, claiming to be at odds with each other to facilitate the plan. In the end it had succeeded; Marian had been able to get close to Gaspard, finding the nature of his betrayal, and shortly after he had a strong need to extricate himself from the Palace quite quickly.

Mari had been clear that he would not pose any additional concerns.

"Marian." She stayed quietly resting on Nathaniel's shoulder, glad to finally be able to simply be near him and affectionate after the day's events. When he called her name again Mari murmured from her spot, still incoherent but at least listening. "Are you upset at Carver?"

That finally got her to lift her head, eyes glimmering mischievously. "Goodness no. You forget, I'm not responsible for the family name anymore. I suppose technically Bethany is the head of household now since she is the highest rank."

At that she chuckled. "She will have to deal with his mess."

Nathaniel pursed his lips a bit, amused. "So let her handle your brother's wives?"

"Precisely."

As they swirled around the floor again, Marian reached up for a kiss. In her mind, in spite of what she had said, she still was thinking of how best to shield Carver from any wrath- including Bethany should the need arise.

Meanwhile, in the garden, Carver himself was peeking around to ensure nobody was watching before moving to scramble up the trellis onto the upper patio. One hand held onto his needed locale, the other was clutching a bottle. He did a flourish as he jumped the last short distance, looking up at the two women who awaited him.

Merrill was a vision in luxurious silk, dark green like the deepest places of the forest. It swirled around her like a vine, hugging her curves and swishing as she moved towards him. She reached for his hand, which Carver happily took. Isabella stepped just behind her, the moonlight catching in the deep scarlet that clung to her before being slit up both sides dramatically to her thigh, a cunning miniature feathered cap adorning her head to complete the vision. She reached out as well, though she took the bottle. "Pup, you brought wine. How thoughtful." With that she took off a shoe, pulling a small blade from the extensive heel to open the cork. She took a long draught before passing the drink to Merrill, who pleasantly drank deeply as well.

Carver was pleased to see Isabella so calm. Earlier she had been shaking, mostly due to the introductions. It had been a big step, letting all Orlais know that she was in fact Admiral Naishe Hawke, not some nobody pirate.

Not that the wedded name was new. She had been a Hawke for a year now, the small ceremony performed by a Chantry brother who was traveling on one of the ships they commandeered at the time. He had been happy to earn his safe passage to their next port by marrying the two. Merrill had married Carver shortly after in a Dalish ritual, the Keeper involved having no qualms about multiple spouses and the Chantry not particularly interested in sharing records with the People.

So Carver was able to call them both wife. And so they were announced that night, in front of all Orlais.

At that precise moment, it was as though Carver could FEEL the approval of the court go down, even as Varric started notes. The ploy had gone over well, and allowed their quartet to inspect the darkest areas. That was how they found Briala and learned the truth. Yes the spymistress had been ruthless, but most were.

Carver watched the two women he loved share the wine bottle, his mind darting to thoughts of them. They were his perfect ending, his happiness. If Anders hadn't stepped in, he would have devastated them.

Something he truly owed the mage for, more than he could ever repay.

His thoughts were then completely derailed by Bella handing Carver the wine bottle and grabbing Merrill. The two started swaying in the evening, dancing pleasantly under the stars, and Carver leaned back to enjoy this moment. Taking a swig of the drink, he watched the captivating image of Bella leading Merrill in the dance, knowing that shortly he would be pulled in and wondering which he would be with first.

Not far off on a balcony, Inquisitor Bethany Hawke was leaning on the railing pensively. The evening had been fiendishly frustrating. There was far too much to remember about Orlesian politics and she simply did not have the stomach for it. Not to mention Carver's little surprise for the family...

As Bethany stood near to pouting, she heard the light footsteps approach. She turned her head, seeing the blaze of red above Inquisition blue, and found an unanticipated smile cross her face. "My dear Nightingale."

"If you perform this well in court we shall need a nickname for you as well. I'm thinking something graceful. Dove maybe?"

Bethany shook her head vigorously. "No thank you. I don't suppose I can just send you or Josey next time... actually, every time... these events come up."

Leliana softened slightly. "Sorry. Your job is a bit more than closing rifts and defeating Corypheus. You actually have to be diplomatic on occasion."

"Not my strong suit." Bethany leaned hard against the edge, looking over the edge. "Marian has always been the one meant for that. Though it could be worse I suppose. I could have Carver's way with people."

Leliana's chuckle was lyrical, musical. "He does have a way of missing the best laid plans. At least we were able to use it this time."

"He should have told me."

"Probably just didn't want you worried.

Bethany sighed. "That is the problem, Leliana." With that, she straightened and met her companion's eyes. "When I was very small our father would speak of magic, and it was always with such a strong sadness I could sense it. I misunderstood it, thought he hated his gift... Then, one day, a little sparrow flew into my closed window and hurt himself. I was so worried I threw it open, and before I knew it there was a little spark flying over to heal him. The bird hurried away whole again, and I was shaking. Petrified. And what did I do? I went to my brother. I trusted him. And now he won't trust me."

"He does. He also sees this as his issue, not yours. Talk to him. Try not to be upset."

Bethany nodded, smiling. "You're sure I'll have to do this again?"

"Unfortunately."

"Can I bribe you to always be at my side during these events if I get you new shoes each time?"

Leliana shook her head, though the mirth stayed in her voice. "Sadly not my little dove, but you might bribe me with a dance."

"A dance?" Before her confusion could fully manifest the bard had Bethany by the waist and guided her in a dance. The mage relaxed in Leliana's hold, finding the sensation too good to pass up. Tomorrow there would be judgement. For tonight, all was well.