WARNINGS: NSFW in the form of sexual harassment, canon-typical prejudice/racism and depicted non-con (touching)


CULLEN

As the carriage lurched for what felt like the thousandth time, my eyes found Meira's again. My heart jumped into my throat and not because of the carriage. Beautiful was not the right word to describe her as she sat across from me. Striking? Captivating? With a chuckle to myself, I thought of Varric's word for her: bewitching. Tonight, I dared to agree with him.

Her ebony hair was free of the wig, styled exactly as Ellana's had been. A combination of braids and loose hair pulled together at the back of her neck and held in place by a jeweled comb fashioned after the Inquisition's symbol. She, Ellana and Josephine all wore the same hairstyle as they had the longest hair and to show uniformity. A few of her curls were loose around her face, my fingers itching to wrap one around her ear just to feel her real hair. Even more, I wanted to pluck the comb out to see her curls tumble free before sinking my fingers into them and kissing her soundly.

A light layer of makeup dusted her face, accentuating her features hidden as they were beneath the sprawling vallaslin. The heaviest amount was on her full lips which were painted and glossed, meant to pull attention to them as they would be the only part of her face not hidden behind her mask. If not for her eyes, I would've thought I was looking at Ellana. Because of that, it was tempting to wipe the makeup and paint away.

Instead, bemusedly, I watched as she kept adjusting the cape sitting upon her shoulders. Her hands smoothing the silver sash across her chest, fiddling with the buttons on her white coat and fidgeting with its skirt spilling over the seat. Her legs kept crossing and uncrossing, the tight-fitting fabric rippling with the muscles of her thighs as she twitched nervously.
Heat lanced through me as my mind went to that evening on her bed, the feel of her thigh in my hand. Her body arched against mine. The taste of her lips, the way her floral and citrus scent had been intoxicating, her moan enough to drive me mad.

Sweet Maker. It was my turn to fidget as I shifted on the seat, my skin prickling at the base of my neck as I scratched at it. What were you thinking, Rutherford?

"What is it?" She questioned, a dark brow quirked.

Do you know how mad you drive me? I cleared my throat, pushing the thoughts away before I did something impulsive and called down Josephine's wrath upon me. 'Not a hair out of place, Cullen.' Then why did you let us ride together alone? We were alone; Ellana, Josephine and Leliana were in another carriage, the others split between another two.
As her fingers bunched into her skirts, I reached over and took her hand to still it, "I'm nervous too."

She smiled bashfully. "Was it that obvious?"

"Considering you haven't been able to sit still since we left," I gently teased.

She laughed. "And you're as stoic as ever."

"It's pretense, love," I assured, "Just think of it all as a massive game of chess."

She mulled that over a moment. "Actually, that helps a lot. Josephine compared it to Wicked Grace, which I know next to nothing about. But chess? That I know." She met my eyes, smiling. "Thanks to you."

I gave her a small smile in return. "I suppose it's really a combination of the two," I clarified, "The charade of Wicked Grace with the planning of chess. You can never reveal your true motives until you've already won. Being five steps ahead while feigning ignorance." I chuckled darkly. "Solas is a rather apt player. He had me before I even realized."

Her brows rose. "Really? When did you play against him?"

"While the Iron Lady had us all separated," I grumbled making her chuckle, "We males had a tournament between our scheduled…activities. Dorian, Bull, Solas and I were the finalists. I beat Dorian, Solas beat Bull—the culmination of an ongoing game they'd been playing mentally."

Really the entirety of our time separated consisted of the other males bombarding me with unsolicited advice. From wooing to bedding. I tried to remind myself that they were genuinely wanting to help in their own way. They were unaware of our history. When I'd had enough, I suggested chess as a distraction, knowing competition and betting always pulled their attention.

"How did he beat you?" She questioned, calling me from my thoughts.

"He was willing to sacrifice his queen," I shrugged. "He sacrificed so many pieces, I thought it impossible for him to win. Instead, he trapped me within my own pieces using her. I believed I had the winning move until he sacrificed her as well. Her fate allowed his king to escape the trap I had made and checkmate my own.
"A brilliant plan, the lynchpin being the queen. His advice to me was to be more willing to make the sacrifices necessary to win. He says I am too protective of my pieces."

"You do tend to try and win with the least amount of loss to yourself," she agreed, "Forcing your opponent to sacrifice more. Solas used that to his advantage it would seem."

"I should not have underestimated him," I sighed, "The others tried to warn me."

"Did you lose something more than the game?"

"Only some of my pride," I chortled, "And a decent bit of gold."

She laughed before we fell silent again, both of us fidgeting now. I looked out the carriage window, night beginning to fall as we neared the palace. I was glad for her sake that the storm had finally passed, the night clear and weather mild.
The fabric of her attire rustled and I looked back to find her leaning towards me. Her hand had come to rest on my knee, a blush on her cheeks, but her silver eyes were intent upon me as I met them. I swallowed hard.

"You look very dashing," she murmured, "It's going to be hard to focus on anything else."

I cleared my throat. "I could—I would—say the same of you. Though 'dashing' isn't the right word for you."
She smiled brightly as she let out a breathy laugh. Before I thought better of it, I slipped my glove off and took one of those loose curls between my fingers. Rubbing the silky end, I curled it over her ear, my fingers brushing along the arch. Her eyes closed briefly before she met my gaze. I took her hand and pressed her gloved knuckles to my lips.
"Mesmerizing," I murmured.

Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks flushing. "Thank you."

"You have nothing to be nervous about, love," I assured.

"I just have to charm some prejudiced nobles, stop an assassin and possibly save Orlais," she sighed as she leaned back, "All while pretending to be something I'm not, praying to the Maker I don't trip and wanting nothing more than to spend the evening dancing with you."

"I think you'd find it a rather dull evening in comparison," I said, "I'm not one for dancing, really. Templars never attended balls."

She met my eyes. "There's nothing dull about being in your arms."

It was my turn to blush. "I…uh…" I cleared my throat again as my mind wandered to thoughts of us dancing.
Her hand in mine, my arm around her, music playing softly as we took the time to just be. Then came the intrusive picture of me tripping or trodding on her feet as I'd done time and again during Vivienne's dancing lessons. During a lesson at Vivienne's apartment, Bull had forcibly made me his dance partner.

The Qunari made a point of showing that size difference and being a warrior had nothing to do with skill as a dancer. It wasn't until he'd instructed that I stop thinking of it as a dance but as a duel that it had finally come together. When taking the lead, you move your partner as you do your weapon—as an extension of yourself.

Then Blackwall had added to think of it like riding a horse—'Since, let's face it, boy, we all know you've never been with a woman'. How you had to read the horse's body and follow with your own all while maintaining control so that horse and rider were one. 'It's all in the hips,' he said with a teasing chuckle.

My blood running hotter, I thought of how Meira and I had moved together before I'd sensed a shift in her mana, her skin growing cold despite her moan of pleasure. It had been her calm melody, but as our ardor had grown it'd changed to dissonant chords. The blush on her face, the want in her eyes as they sparkled had caused my mind to become muddled, but her mana had only stilled when sense had reasserted itself.

I looked at her. 'My struggle has nothing to do with you. It is my own memories I must fight against'. She smiled at me. Maker, you cannot get swept up in it again, you fool. Her smile turned impish as her gaze flicked over me. I narrowed my eyes at her, even as my lips twitched into a grin.
"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?"

"You said you were nervous," she shrugged, feigning innocence, "I'm just trying to take your mind off things."

"You've succeeded…for the moment," I grumbled, making her chuckle, "Though I still think you'd find me a poor dance partner."

"Let me be the judge of that," she ordered.

"Maker's breath," I swore as we exited the carriage, the great palace stretching towards the heavens, "Orlesians."

Meira chuckled as she took my offered hand, holding her skirts up as she exited the carriage. "It is rather ostentatious, isn't it?"

"It's superfluous, that's what it is," I grumbled.

Her knuckles rapped my chest as she stood next to me. "You have to admit it's beautiful though." I looked to her, her confidence building as she straightened, an appreciative smile on her face as she took it all in, silver eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Those eyes flicked to me. "What?"

"Not as beautiful as you," I breathed.

She blushed, looking at me through her lashes. "Thank you."

At that, I took the mask from her hand. Circling her, she held the mask in place as I tied the velvet ribbon to secure it. My fingers brushed the arches of her ears as I pulled the ribbon back, hearing as she inhaled sharply.
That done, it took every ounce of my self-control not to press a kiss to the back of her neck. Before I could, she turned. It was strange to look her in the face, her likeness having been carved into the surface, but not really see it. To have her eyes hidden where I could not read them.

"The sooner this is over, the better," I growled, "As soon as it is, I'm taking that off you."

A smirk pulled her glossed mouth. "I assume you're talking about the mask?"

"What else would I me—" Heat pooled into my face as I realized what she meant. "—Maker's breath," I swore, rolling my eyes, "Yes, I meant the mask. Not your…clothes."
She laughed gaily as she circled me, her heeled boots bringing her closer to my height. I held my mask in place as she secured it.
As she finished and came around to face me, my lips twitched before I said, "I'll save that for our wedding night."

She tripped at those words, but I caught her elbow before she fell. "Maker, take these heels!" She hissed.

"I don't think that was the heels, mi cara," Dorian's voice chuckled, "I'd fall over too if someone used that line on me." I glared at the mage, the effect lost behind the mask.
"Careful, Cullen, you may very well melt that mask off your face in your attempt to silently scold me for eavesdropping. Who'll save you from the mob then?" Meira laughed.
"Not that it matters when you look like that." His grey eyes roved over me appreciatively before they shifted to Meira.
"Honestly, what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I'd like to be distracted from the danger of the evening by having something nice to look at," Meira teased.

Dorian chuckled. "You've certainly accomplished that," he winked at me as my lips pulled into a scowl, "But you could've just looked at me if you needed distracting, you know."

"We all know no one compares to you, Dorian," Ellana teased as she looped her arm through his, "But I'm afraid when it comes to the two of them, they've only eyes for each other. Try not to let it get to you, lest your tears stain your jacket."

"You're my only true friend," he pouted, "But alas, a mage can dream, can't he?" Dorian sighed.

"And keep dreaming," I growled earning an impish grin from the man.

"I know when I am beaten," Dorian inclined his head to us, "I shall drown my sorrows away with the Empress's finest selection of reds."

"Are we talkin' wine or hair?" Bull questioned as he lumbered into view, pulling on his jacket's collar as irritation flickered on his face.

"A fair question, my friend," Dorian mused.

"Why not both?" Blackwall interjected, his blue eyes flicking to the palace. "At the same time?"

"That sounds like my kind of party," Bull grunted.

"We are here to stop an assassination," Josephine hissed as she and Leliana joined the rest of us, "Not partake in debauchery."

"And now you've ruined it for me," Dorian whined.

"I'll nick a few of those reds for you, Vinty," Sera promised, "We'll have our own debauchery at Vivvy's house."

"And leave my furniture forever haunted?" Vivienne questioned, "I think not."

"You're no fun," Sera stuck her tongue out at Vivienne who only smiled in response.

"There's always Wicked Grace, Buttercup?" Varric offered, "We still haven't convinced Cullen to play."

"All he wants to play is that game with the twit pieces," Sera scoffed.

"Exactly. Leaving me in need of recouping some gold," Varric grumbled.

"If you chose to place your bets on more optimal candidates and outcomes, Master Tethras, perhaps you'd be less prone to losing your gold?" Solas questioned, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" Varric waved a hand dismissively. "Everyone likes an underdog. And every so often, it pays off."

"Fair enough," Solas inclined his head.

"Speaking of," Varric chuckled, "Final wagers?"

"What are you betting on now?" Cassandra asked, exasperated.

"Never you mind, Seeker," Varric flashed a rogue grin as gold was passed to him. "Just try not to disappoint this time, Curly."

"Please do," Dorian argued.

"No hints as to what it is?" Meira questioned.

"Not this time, Iris," Varric shook his head, "Or you'll cheat us out of our gold."

"But you've betted against him, Dorian?" Meira probed.

"Not at all," he huffed, "I'm a sap when it comes to star-crossed lovers, I'm afraid."

"Why is that?" She quirked a brow.

"Because it allows me to live vicariously through you," he hummed, "For all my entanglements have been ill-fated, I'm afraid. To see yours succeed…well, it would do my debauched heart wonders."

"Then I hope we may provide some amusement," she stated, her mouth twitching and I had a feeling this was all some prank being pulled on me—on us really, but Meira was playing along.

As Dorian opened his mouth to say something, his mustache pulling and mischief glittering in his eyes, I grabbed Meira's hand. "Alright, enough." Dorian laughed behind us. "Must you egg him on?"

She took my elbow as she chuckled, the soldiers of her honor guard coming to surround us. "Dorian is a flirt and uses wit as a guard. A wit that I must admit is rather sharp and amusing—not that I'd tell him that. But I assure you, he means it all in good fun."

"Why must everyone make jests at my expense?" I grumbled before looking at her. "At our expense?"

"Because you get so riled up about them," she chuckled, "Your nose gets all scrunched up and its adorable."

"'Adorable' is not the word I would have you describe me by," I pouted.

"It's just one of many, my knight," she murmured.

"Why are you unbothered?" I probed.

"Because their jesting about us is a reminder that we're together—that there's something to jest about," she murmured.

A lightness eased the tension in my chest at those words, causing me to smile at her. But as we grew closer to the gate, that tension built anew as she released my elbow. I turned and offered her a bow, a hand on my chest in salute before heading inside.

I looked back, she and the soldiers waiting for their cue from Josephine. We were all to enter the palace ahead of the Inquisitor as her true escort was Duke Gaspard. The two of them were to enter together as she was his guest.
Though I had told her she had nothing to be nervous about, worry for her crawled up my spine. 'Servant'. 'Beast'. 'The rabbit? You must be joking'. 'Has it ever bothered you that I'm an elf?' 'I am less than you'.

I looked to the palace looming overhead. And now we're sending her into a pit of vipers, praying she isn't devoured. And there's nothing I can do to protect her.

"She'll be alright, Cullen," Ellana's voice came from my side, her free hand now in the crook of my elbow.

"I don't doubt her ability to succeed," I stated, "I worry what she'll have to face in order to do so."

"I know," she murmured, "But she has us all for support."

"But we cannot directly act lest we influence The Court in doing so," I growled.

"You may not be able to," she agreed, her glossed mouth pulling into a grin, "But I can."

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

We'd entered the courtyard before the palace, the gate groaning closed behind us. Dozens of masks turned as if in unison. A hush fell over the crowd of people loitering around the large fountain set before a grand staircase.
My heart thundered in my chest, suddenly feeling like a bird in a cage—trapped for the amusement of others. 'Look at him tremble!' 'Not so brave now are you, templar?'

Ellana gently pulled me down to whisper in my ear, "Did you really think I would feed her to the vipers?"

Whispers spread like wildfire through the spectating crowd. Fans snapping open, glittering lace catching the moonlight as their owners hid behind them to gossip. Eyes set in masks looked at us, already trying to size us up.

"I still don't understand what you're trying to say," I whispered back.

She merely offered a smile as she went to stand opposite me. We lined up just inside the gate. Ellana and I at the heads of our lines, the others standing alongside us. We stood at attention, hands on our chests, waiting for Meira to enter.
The soldiers marched in first, their dress uniforms a less opulent version of my own absent the furred cape. They moved in unison, stopping past Ellana and I. Their boots pounded upon the ground as they took their places, saluting Meira as they called even more attention to us. Meira walked through the center of us, back straight, stride commanding the long skirt of her jacket flowing to emulate a dress.

At the end of the line stood a man whom I assumed was Gaspard. He was in formal armor, his mask simple, but fine as it was colored for the de Chalons family. A few guards stood behind him, their faces unmasked, but their armor bore his house crest and colors indicating their allegiance. As Meira approached, the man walked forward.

"It is a great pleasure to meet you, Inquisitor Lavellan," he greeted, "The tales of your feats have spread through these gilded halls, growing more elaborate with each retelling."

"I assure you, it's only to the best effect," Meira offered.

Gaspard chuckled as he inclined his head, "Indeed, my lady. But no matter the embellishments, you've led well. Brining the rebel mages into the ranks of your army was brilliant. And the templars? Not just a sound military move, but a clever political ploy as well. Imagine what the Inquisition could accomplish with the full support of the rightful emperor of Orlais!"

"And which one was the rightful one again?" Meira chuckled. "I keep getting them confused."

Gaspard bowed to her as he said, "The handsome, charming one of course, my lady." They shared a laugh and I felt an odd pang at it. Gaspard straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "I am not a man who forgets his friends, Inquisitor. You help me, I'll help you."

He waved for her to follow, leading her towards the fountain where they continued their conversation in hushed tones.

"It's time for you all to head inside," Josephine instructed, "The Inquisitor will remain out here to wait on Duke Gaspard's lead. I will wait for her. Stay within the vestibule until the Duke enters so that we may be announced."

I nodded, turning to the captain overseeing our escort. "Captain."

"Commander," she saluted.

"Stay within the courtyard," I instructed, "to ensure the Inquisitor's safety, but move in behind her when she and the Grand Duke enter the palace. Take posts within the vestibule and ballroom. Stay alert and await further instructions. If you see anything, send word."

"Aye, sir," she saluted before leading the others to stand at attention in an empty portion of the courtyard.

I left them to follow the others through the courtyard to the staircase leading up to the palace entrance. Gaspard and Meira were still speaking near the fountain, it impossible to hear their conversation over the water pouring from the lions' mouths. Instead, I had to listen to the insults being thrown at the female I loved because of the shape of her ears.

"Is that the Inquisitor?!" A woman exclaimed, not bothering to quiet her voice.

"An elf savage?" A man gasped, equally loud, "Maker forbid!"

"This is Gaspard's idea of a joke," another woman sneered, "A stab at Celene, no doubt."

Another pair hissed their vile:

"Is that the Inquisitor?"

"A Dalish?! No, that cannot be."

"You there! Rabbit! Have you seen a ring anywhere?" Yet another called, speaking directly to Meira as if calling her—the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste—"rabbit" was not impertinence of the acutest kind.

Anger burned in my chest at the prejudice. I wanted nothing more than to be at her side, to comfort her as she no doubt heard their cutting remarks. Instead, I had to leave her to them as we swept inside. Passing through a small inner courtyard, palace guards stationed on both sides, Josephine had us stop just outside the palace doors.

"Tonight, you must all be on your best behavior," she warned, "How the Inquisitor is perceived will be influenced by how you are perceived. How you speak, how you act, how you look—one misstep could mean ruination for her. For the Inquisition. In order to defeat our true enemy, we must succeed here. Do not fail her."

"Alright, mother," Sera grumbled.

"If we misbehave, will you drag us out by our ears?" Dorian questioned.

"Please do," Bull grunted.

"Enough!" Josephine snapped, her dark eyes flashing, "This is not a joke. Despite its name, 'The Game' is anything but. These people burn cities as a diversionary tactic and assassinate one another as a feint. You have been prepared, put what you've learned into practice."

"We'll be on our best behavior," Sera promised, though I still did not believe her.

The final warning given, the palace guards opened the doors for us as Josephine stayed in the smaller courtyard. Within, an even grander staircase awaited us. Gilded ceilings, great chandeliers, gold statues, marble columns and all manner of finery surrounded us.

More nobles were within, loitering upon the stairs or looking over the balustrade to spy on the other guests. The walls began to press in on me, the feel of numerous eyes upon me making my collar feel as if it were choking me. My clothes felt too tight, the mask itched and I wanted to flee.

Another hand took my elbow. "You're marching, Cullen," Cassandra's voice spoke quietly.

"So I am." I'd been in the steady rhythm, picking my feet up more than I needed to without realizing it. A habit when walking into danger. I took a deep breath in and released it slowly. "I just pray this is over quickly."

"As do I," she grumbled, "But for now, remember to breathe." I nodded and together we climbed the steps. I felt her squirm a little. "This dress uniform is preposterous. Formal armor would have been better." Whispers began to spread through the watching nobles once more.

I tugged discreetly on the bottom of my jacket. "I need to have this jacket let out a little."

"You and me both, Curly," Varric grumbled at my other side. "But seriously, did you look at these steps? I think they're gilded."

Cassandra gave an amused snort. Nobles lingered upon the stairs, whispers between them as we passed and their stares followed. A group of young ladies stood at the top of the stairs, giggling behind their fans as we climbed the last step.

She tugged my elbow discreetly and led us to the opposite side. "You'll have a good view of her from here."

"Thank you," I murmured.

"We best observe what we can as we wait," she advised.

Resting my hands on my sword pommel beneath the cape, I began to scan the room for any obvious threats or clues. Human and elven servants flitted about, carrying trays of food and drinks. Nobles were scattered everywhere, gossiping.

"Have you heard any reports on the casualties in the Dales?"

"I wish there was more news coming from the Grand Cathedral."
"Good news is becoming an increasingly rare commodity."

"Can Gaspard take the throne without the backing of the Council of Heralds?"
"He plans to take it by force. If the council won't recognize him, he'll march against them."

"Why are there so many elves here?"
"The empress invited them. Be polite."

"I can hardly believe Gaspard and Celene are in the same room."
"Grand Duchess Florianne must have worked a miracle to get them here!"

"I hear the Grand Duke invited the Inquisition here."
"Gaspard never struck me as pious. He must think he gains a military advantage with the Inquisition."
"If nothing else, the Inquisition backing Gaspard will make Celene nervous. You know how pious she is."

"How can they call this a vestibule? It's a foyer!"
"Please, it's barely half the size of the foyer in the Imperial Palace! It's obviously just a vestibule."
"I'd call it more of an antechamber, myself."
"No one asked you."

There was a group of dwarves near a set of twin staircases at the opposite side of the room speaking amongst themselves. All over the room there were also elves that did not appear to be servants, instead haughty eyes looked at the nobles with indignation as they whispered and observed. While drama was abundant, within the vestibule there were no obvious signs of danger. The others spread through the room, Bull unsurprisingly amassing the most attention—seconded only by Ellana and her staff.

"Crap," Varric hissed, "I just saw two dwarves from the Merchants Guild go inside. If anyone asks, I'm not here."

"I think that'll take some convincing as you'll be announced before the entire Court momentarily," I stated.

"You just had to remind me, didn't you Curly?"

"I'm nothing if not a realist, Varric," I smirked.

"I think you mean pessimist," Varric corrected.

"They're not the same thing?"

Varric barked a laugh. "You see? It's not that hard to loosen up every so often."

I felt a light pressure run along my upper back, causing me to jerk before I could stop myself. Giggles sounded as the group of women I'd spotted before looked over their shoulders at me. One of them had a smirk on her lips, a brow raised in sensual challenge beneath her relatively open mask.

"Disgusting," Cassandra growled, "To think they can touch whomever they please." I looked away to find Cassandra's mask staring after them. "Do not wander the palace, Cullen."

"Why?" I dared to ask.

"Because it would be your word against their's," she began, "And all they would need is witnesses to corroborate their story. You'd be forced into marriage before you even knew what had happened."

"Witnesses? Story?" I asked, bewildered.

"I've seen it before," she hissed, "A young woman with little prospects elevates her status by luring a nobleman to a secluded area. Her friends claim the man took advantage of her. Her family forces him into marriage." She turned to me, the etched eyes of her mask without feeling. "Stay amongst the crowd and go nowhere alone."

"Duly noted," I bit, dread dripping down my spine.

The doors opened once more and to my relief it was Meira. My relief evaporated as jealousy took its place when I saw that she was walking arm-in-arm with Gaspard. The man speaking to her in a low voice, earning chuckles from Meira.

"What is Gaspard up to?" One of the nobles whispered behind me in Common, clearly wanting us to overhear, "It wouldn't surprise me if he brought the Inquisitor here as a prank."

"Whatever gave you that idea?" Another answered, laughter in their voice, "The fact that he commissioned Celene's university to write studies on the knife-ears?"

"It's not as if the information was false," the other snickered, "they are rabbits. Frightful little creatures driven by two instincts: self-preservation and breeding."

"You forgot the best part!"

"What's that?"

"To fornicate with one is as equal an insult to the Maker as laying with beasts! That's after Celene tried to convince them to let an elf in as a student!" Hissing laughter followed and a dark rage burned in my gut. A sensual noise came from one of their throats.
"But that'd be one rabbit I'd be willing to sin for. Do you see those lips? I'd put those to good use." An animalistic snarl dared to tear from me, but I clamped my lips shut.

"I was too busy looking at her other curves," the other grunted, "Maybe Gaspard got himself a rabbit whore just like Celene? Could hardly blame him, looking at that one." To the Void with you, you pigs.

"Are we sure that's true? I know Ramache commissioned the play after he sided with Gaspard and that was the rumor, but don't forget it was the empress that burned down Halamshiral's slums to stop the riots."

"Fair."

"Breathe, Cullen," Cassandra murmured, though her voice held rage, "Breathe."

It took everything I had not to turn around and strike them with my fists. Instead, I watched as the female I loved crest the stairs on the arm of a man that most likely judged her as something she wasn't for her race, but was more than happy to use her as a means to an end. 'Has it ever bothered you that I'm an elf?' Oh, Meira. Josephine trailed behind them, waving for us to follow as the doors to the ballroom were opened for the Duke.

Josephine took my arm as I approached the door. "We will walk behind the Inquisitor—You, Leliana and I." She looked over her shoulder. "The others will be announced, but remain upon the upper walkway. Go to the opposite stair and do not walk until your name has been announced." I nodded. "Once you reach the empress, bow briefly and then climb the stair."

"I remember, Ambassador," I assured. She let out a breath. "We've been preparing for months, don't doubt yourself."

"Thank you, Commander," she breathed before releasing me.

I trailed behind Gaspard and Leliana while Meira and Josephine went to the opposite stair. I spotted Celene on the far side of the room, bedecked in the colors of Orlais. My heart thundering and gut churning, I descended the stairs and stood with the others. Gaspard waited for Meira.

"And now presenting," the announcer boomed, "Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons and accompanying him, Lady Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan." Together they bowed before Gaspard offered his elbow to Meira once more. Slowly, they made their way across the ballroom floor, the entirety of the room focused upon them.

"Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Fereldan, crusher of the vile apostates of the Mage Underground. Shepherd and leash of the wayward Order of Templars, purger of the heretics from the ranks of the faithful. Champion of the Blessed Andraste Herself!" Gaspard laughed as they crossed the dance floor in response to the gasps that had swept through the ballroom.

"Accompanying the Inquisitor: the Lady Inquisitor's elven serving man, Solas. Her Ladyship, Mai Bhalsych of Korse."
I had to force my face to remain neutral at that. Only Sera could have come up with that name and I had to admire the her lack of reverence and ability to make light of anything.

"Lord Dorian Pavus, member of the Circle of Vyrantium, son of Lord Magister Hayward Pavus of Asariel. The Iron Bull, leader of the famed mercenary company The Bull's Chargers, as the name might imply. Renowned author, Varric Tethras, head of noble House Tethras, Deshyr of Kirkwall to the dwarven Merchants Guild.

"Ser Warden Blackwall of Val Chevin, Constable of the Grey, Bearer of the Silverite Wings of Valor. Madame Vivienne, First Enchanter to the Circle of Magi, Enchanter to the Imperial Court, Mistress to the Duke of Ghislain. Lady Talitha, Enchanter to the Circle of Magi, Mage Ambassador to the Inquisition, Lieutenant-Commander of the Mage-Templar Battalion of the Inquisition. Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena—"

"—Get on with it!" Cassandra snapped.

"—Pentaghast, fourteenth cousin to the King of Neverra, nine times removed, Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Late Divine Justinia. Ser Cullen Stanton Rutherford of Honnleath—" At my name, I began my descent down to the ballroom floor. My back itched as I felt the weight of hundreds of stares upon me.

"—Commander of the forces of the Inquisition, former Knight-Commander of Kirkwall."

Whispers spread, fans fluttered, masks glinted in the soft light. The music became too loud, perfume cloyed the air, numerous scents wafted into my nose, my jacket felt stifling. Breathing in and out, I looked to Meira's back and drew comfort from the knowledge that she was here.

"Lady Leliana, Nightingale of the Imperial Court, Veteran of the Fifth Blight, Seneschal of the Inquisition and Left Hand of the Late Divine Justinia. And Lady Josephine Cherette Montilyet of Antiva City, Ambassador of the Inquisition."

The walk across the ballroom seemed to take an eternity, I forcing myself to keep my head up and eyes straight ahead. Though the mask felt confining, I was thankful for the layer of protection it gave from all those observing us. The soles of my boots clapping on the polished marble floor, Leliana, Josephine and I came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs that sat directly beneath Empress Celene. At the top of the stairs, Gaspard released Meira to address the empress.

While Gaspard was a rugged man in his sixties, his chevalier life having kept him in strength, Celene was nearly half his age and to many would be considered beautiful. Pale blonde hair, even paler skin to Gaspard's dark hair and tanned skin. But they both shared bright, blue eyes.

"Cousin," he greeted before nodding to the younger woman at Celene's elbow, "My dear sister."

"Grand Duke," Celene greeted with a slight curtsy, "We are always honored when your presence graces our court."

"Majesty, you're too kind, but I'm afraid my presence is due to business that needs concluding, not pleasure," Gaspard gave a curt nod.

"We will meet for the negotiations after we have seen to our other guests," Celene scolded. Gaspard gave a flourishing bow in response. Celene turned her attention to Meira.
"Lady Inquisitor, we welcome you to the Winter Palace. Allow us to present the Grand Duchess of Lydes, Florianne de Chalons, without whom this gathering would never have been possible." Celene gestured to the young woman at her side who gave a slight bow.

Florianne and Gaspard could not deny each other as siblings, despite their age difference, but Florianne also shared characteristics with Celene. She had the same blonde hair and pale skin with their blue eyes.
"What an unexpected pleasure," Florianne greeted before looking between her brother and Celene, "I was not aware the Inquisition would be part of our festivities."

"It makes for a wonderful diversion, dear sister," Gaspard stated.

Florianne chuckled. "Of course. We will certainly speak later, Inquisitor." At that, she dismissed herself.

"Inquisitor," Gaspard farewelled Meira as he ascended the stairs to our left.

"Your arrival at Court is like a cool wind on a summer's day," Celene offered Meira.

"I am delighted to be here, Your Majesty," Meira thanked the empress.

"We have heard much of your exploits, Inquisitor," Celene inclined her head, "They have made grand tales for long evenings. But how do you find Halamshiral?"

"I have no words to suffice," Meira shook her head, "Halamshiral has many beauties, and I could not do them justice."

Maker, she's good at this. No wonder Ellana wanted her in her place. Ellana would be giving pleasantries through clenched teeth, if at all. Meira on the other hand makes it sound so natural.

"Your modesty does you credit," Celene gave the barest hint of a smile, "And speaks well for the Inquisition. Feel free to enjoy the pleasures of the ballroom, Inquisitor. We look forward to watching you dance."

Meira gave a deep bow, the three of us following her lead, before ascending the stairs to the left. Josephine followed behind her. I went to the stairs on the right, a flock of nobles blocking the landing. Heat prickled at my neck at their staring, but I forced my hand to stay at my side.

"Pardon us," Leliana's lilting voice said behind me, causing them to slowly part and let us through. "This spot has an excellent view of the dance floor, Commander, and all its delights."
Leliana gestured to a tall table between two couches. A wall would be at my back, windows to either side and I would be able to see the entirety of the room—and therefore watch for threats—without moving. Leliana would know the palace better than any and she was telling me where to stand to best survey the room without alerting listening ears.
"But if you would excuse me, Commander."

"Thank you, Seneschal," I inclined my head before taking the spot she indicated.

Doing a quick sweep of the room, I counted the honor guard before my eyes found Meira across the way speaking with Josephine. They stood with a young woman that I assumed was Josephine's sister whom the Ambassador had feared would attend despite her warnings. At the northernmost part of the ballroom Gaspard, Celene and an elven female I guessed to be Briala were arguing in hushed tones. To my right stood Celene's ladies-in-waiting, obvious by the mask they wore stating their allegiance to House Valmont.

As the liveliness of the masquerade began to grow, the others exited the ballroom, going to spread throughout the open spaces of the palace. Meira bid Josephine farewell before taking a turn about the room. She looked at me as she passed, an almost imperceptible nod before she made for the doors leading back out to the vestibule. Leliana met her, looping their arms as they went out.

"Can I offer you a drink, Commander?" A voice spoke soon after. I turned to find Charter disguised as a servant. She met my eyes, the signal that she was one of ours as employed servants would not make eye contact or they would risk their position. Leliana had spies infiltrate the palace in order for us to be able to communicate without alerting the would-be assassin.
"It's a virgin Benediction, ser. Since you're on duty. Courtesy of Nightingale."

"A what?" I questioned.

I could've sworn Charter's lips twitched as she lowered her gaze. "A Benediction, ser. Non-alcoholic."

"What in the Maker's name is that?" I bit, bewildered.

"A drink, ser," Charter repeated, "to help you blend in."

Eyeing the glass, I cautiously picked it up. "This is her idea of a joke, isn't it?"

Charter's face remained impassive. "Perhaps."

I took the wedge of fruit sat on the rim of the glass and squeezed it over the liquid before taking a sip. Sweet and light with a slight tang finishing with a strange heat. "That's rather good."

"She thought you'd like it," Charter nodded. "I'll return with another after a time."

"Thank you," I lifted the glass.

"Ser," she bowed before disappearing amongst the crowd.

With her departure and Meira gone, I noticed that there were several pairs of eyes upon me, a throng of people had formed a half-circle around where I stood. While they stared, none had yet approached. Heat prickled on the back of my neck as nerves worked their way up from my gut. I looked away, trying to ignore them, but this seemed only to embolden them.

"Bon soir, Commander," a man's voice greeted as he approached. Half of his face was covered by a mask and he stood far too close for my comfort.

"Good evening, ser," I gave a curt nod. I would be polite, but no more.

"We were not expecting the Inquisition to join the festivities," he began, "I must say it is quite the welcome diversion."

"The Grand Duke was so courteous as to extend an invitation," I replied.

"Indeed," he inclined his head, "And we are the more fortunate for it." Wanting to end the conversation, I took a long pull from my glass. "Tell me, Commander," he began again, "What do your duties entail? I'm afraid military life never suited me. But you were first a templar and now a general, such things must be of great interest to you. I find myself curious."

"I'm afraid I must disappoint you," I replied, "While such a life suits me, it's hardly exciting."

"I very much doubt that, Commander Cullen," a lady's voice spoke as she approached, "Why the Inquisition is responsible for so much in the recent months, there must be a new tale everyday."

"Certainly, madam," I inclined my head, "but I'm afraid my exploits are limited to the soldiers I lead."

"And no doubt you've had your fair share of exploits," the man said, his voice husky and suggestive, hinting he meant something I had not in my words. Saying nothing, I took another drink. "I would love to hear about your time in Kirkwall, Commander."

"Another time, perhaps," I declined hoping he would move on, but he seemed undeterred.

I took another drink, a part of me wishing it did contain alcohol to help calm my rapidly fraying nerves. The rest of the group had now stepped closer, pressing in on me.

"Do you enjoy music, Commander?" Another woman asked.

"Everyone enjoys music, madam," I replied.

The woman laughed, excessively. As if I'd said something humorous instead of a vague response. Thinking we'd shared some sort of joke, she brushed her fingers down my arm.
"True enough, but the Empress's minstrels have been playing so well this evening you simply must join me for a dance when the bell tolls," she urged.

"I'm afraid I must decline, madam," I stated, "I'm on duty, you understand."

She leaned closer to me, her movements too fast and the mask making it difficult to read her intentions. I jumped a little before composing myself, though it would have gone unnoticed by them. Meira was the only one who had gotten this close to me and her movements were almost always measured or preceded by her hands letting me know what she would do.
Until this moment, I had not realized how grateful I'd been for it—nor did I know if she did so consciously.

Swift movements during training—when I had a sword and shield in my hands—were one thing; they were expected and I could defend myself. But here, without armor, without weapons and under the stare of numerous eyes that were pressing closer and closer, I felt immensely vulnerable. And at the realization, the icy touch of fear dripped down my spine.

"It'd just be one dance," she whispered conspiratorially, "You'd be back to your post and the Lady Inquisitor would be none the wiser."

"Thank you, madam, but no," I declined again before going to take another drink as my throat had gone dry. To my dismay, I found it empty.

The woman from before noticed. "Can I get you another drink, Commander Cullen?"

"No, thank you," I shook my head.

"'Cullen'," she began, the silver thread of her fan flashing like a dagger as she snapped it open, causing my skin to crawl, "What an unusual name. However did you come by it?"

"A family name, madam," I informed.

"You must be Fereldan, Commander," another man interjected, "I have an ear for accents. Whereabouts are you from?"

"Near Redcliffe, ser," I replied.

"Do you own any mabari, Commander?" He asked. "Noble beasts prized by your countrymen, are they not?"

"Indeed, but I'm afraid my duties keep me far too busy to care for one properly," I replied.

"The dance bell should ring any moment," he hummed as a new tune began, "Would you care to dance when it does, Commander?"

"No, thank you," I declined.

"Pardon the intrusion, Commander," a familiar voice cut through the others, "but would you be so courteous as to escort me to the gardens? I've heard they're rather lovely." Ellana approached, the flames crackling on her staff, which caused the others to gasp and draw back.

"Of course," I nodded, thanking the Maker for her arrival, "Excuse me." I inclined my head to the growing crowd before stepping to join Ellana. We walked in silence for a few steps, the members of our honor guard saluting as we passed, before I asked in a low voice, "What's going on?"

"I was asked to shield you from the machinations of the nobles if I could," she chuckled, "but beyond that, the Inquisitor has a lead."

"There's no need to worry about me," I grumbled shoving away the fear that had sprung up, "We all must focus on why we're here. What's the lead?"

"The upper guest wing," she stated, "Gaspard pointed her there. However, it will be frowned upon if the Inquisitor and her retinue suddenly disappear for however long it takes to investigate—we cannot afford to rush. But only she can produce weapons and armor from thin air should danger arise, not to mention that she can cloak herself with the Fade to go unnoticed. So, I'm sending her and Cole while I take her place. Our spies will assist as best they can and Sera's 'friends' are helping them procure access to the library which connects to the upper wing."

If she could see my face, she would have seen my brows raise. "Why wasn't I informed that this was the plan?"

"Only Leliana knows as she suggested it," she smiled more broadly before it faltered. "She and Josephine gave me a further briefing of the key players tonight on the ride here. I need her to investigate without bias. It would be impossible to investigate thoroughly and win over the court with the scheming happening beyond where we're allowed, especially if we want to avoid making a mistake. Neither of you would have agreed—you especially would never have agreed to sending her in alone."

"Of course I do not like sending her into danger, but she is more than capable of protecting herself," I argued, "It is a smart plan. A small team means they can be swift and are less likely to be noticed. And given Cole's…abilities, he'll be able to help them avoid trouble."

"I knew I liked you," she smiled at me.

"But what about Talitha? Certainly the nobles will notice her absence?" I questioned.

Her smile turned wolfish. "Luckily, she won't be absent. One of the perks of having a uniquely gifted somniari. While she's investigating in the off limits areas, I will see what I can find out as Inquisitor."

"How will you survive the pompous nobles?" I teased.

A smirk pulled her mouth. "I may have oversold my inability to deal with them. I'll do what I have to. Besides, Josephine needs to remain unaware of what we're doing, otherwise she may faint."

I chuckled. "I doubt she'd faint, but I'd hate to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

"Exactly," she agreed, "Who knows how many dignitaries she'd force me to entertain?"

We both shuddered at the thought as we passed through a hall of marble statues into the guest wing. Trays of food and drinks danced through the throngs of guests mingling or lounging on couches. The great windows were open to the cool night air, the heavy drapes rustling on the breeze as music floated in from the gardens outside.

Solas leaned against a statue, a glass of golden bubbly liquid in his hand that he raised in greeting. I had never seen the male so relaxed and as if reading my thoughts, he flashed a smirk. But as he did, the amount of people pressed in on me and I felt trapped again, my heart strumming faster. Ellana led us out to the garden, the open space giving a reprieve, a fountain trickling nearby as Maryden—who had traveled with us in order to share the Inquisition's tales—introduced herself before playing her selection in Orlesian, her first song dedicated to Empress Celene in thanks as suggested by Josephine and Leliana.

"Impératrice,
C'est ton règne que nous honorons
Par cette chanson, dans tout Orlaïs
Nous glorifions ton nom

Impératrice,
Qu'importe les saisons
Nous te défendrons
Et nos cicatrices
Grâce à toi se tairont

Nous sommes
À jamais tes obligés

Impératrice,
Viens nous délivrer
Vos heures sont comptées
La nation dérive
L'espoir est bafoué

Impératrice,
Ta force est en nous
Nous prenons les armes
Et levons nos dagues
Viens, délecte-toi du sang qui coule

Nous sommes
À jamais tes obligés

Impératrice,
C'est ton règne que nous honorons
Par cette chanson, dans tout Orlaïs
Nous glorifions ton nom

Impératrice,
Qu'importe les saisons
Nous te défendrons
Et nos cicatrices
Grâce à toi se tairont."

"They're completely enthralled," Dorian spoke as he came to stand with us.

"By you?" Ellana questioned.

Dorian chirped a laugh. "Of course, but more in the shocking sort of way. You'd think I smelled of cabbages the way they wrinkle their noses at me. A Tevinter mage? Accompanying the Inquisitor no less? It's just as our dear Mother Giselle feared for you, mi cara—what sort of influence does the Imperium have upon the Inquisition through me? Little do they know I am no more welcome in my homeland than here."

"We appreciate your help all the same, Dorian," Ellana said.

"I know, mi cara, and I appreciate your saying as much to Her Reverence. But I wasn't complaining. I enjoy my pariah status." Dorian smiled at a couple of Orlesians that were pointedly looking at him before he took a sip from his glass of deep red wine. They seemed to gasp and moved away in response, causing Dorian to snort into his glass.
"As for our falsely genteel admirers? Find me ten silk scarves and I'll show you a dance that will really shock them." Ellana laughed. "Anyways, I'm keeping watch for magic. You know Tevinters. We can't cross a room without casting a spell!"

"In more ways than one, or so you tell me," Ellana chuckled.

"Quite right, love," Dorian inclined his head, "But all the same, if there are Tevinter agents here, we'll find them."

As Maryden began a new song, I turned my attention to Meira. I watched as she mingled, the nobles not quite sure what to make of her, but curious enough to engage her in conversation. She was equal parts coy and humorous which only seemed to draw them in as she told of Ellana's adventures. Ellana and I stood, listening to Maryden as we waited for Meira to step away. Someone brushed passed me, bumping my shoulder.

"Apologies, my lord," an elf bowed low before straightening.

"That's—" I realized it was another of Leliana's spies as he too looked me in the eyes briefly.

He held a tray out to me that was decorated with bite-sized foods. Small rounds of bread layered with different toppings. "A fair selection of canapés, my lord. Try the smoked salmon, to the far right. You'll find it quite satisfying."

I looked to the rounds topped with the pink-colored fish. Beneath the first was a small key. I took it, holding the key with my little finger as I ate the canapé. Those his words had indicated the key, the food itself was rather good. I gave a nod. "Thank you."

"Of course, my lord," he bowed again, "Enjoy the evening."

I watched as he slowly made his way to where Meira stood, offering her and her group the tray. He must have said something to her as she looked to where Ellana and I stood. She spoke a few moments longer before excusing herself and joining us.

"Commander," she nodded, "Lieutenant-Commander."

"How do you find the gardens, Inquisitor?" Ellana questioned.

"A little chilly, actually," she stated for the ears that were obviously listening, "Would you accompany me inside?"

"Of course, Inquisitor."

Together we walked back through the crowded guest wing. "Our spies found us a way inside the library," I murmured low enough only their ears would hear. "One of them slipped me a key."

"Good," Ellana whispered, "We'll walk you back to the ballroom."

"What have you been able to find out?" I asked Meira.

"Gaspard points the finger at Briala, citing her want for revenge after Celene betrayed her to cover up a political mistake and burned Halamshiral's elven slums to stop the riots," she began, Ellana stiffening next to me, "He asked for me to see if I could find out what became of his ambassadors. They were to meet with Celene's in the upper guest wing prior to the ball, but he never heard from them.
"Celene's ladies-in-waiting approached me in the garden before you arrived. Celene asked for me to do her dirty work—to find evidence that proves Gaspard the traitor in exchange for her support of the Inquisition. Leliana is concerned about Celene's newly appointed occult advisor that charmed the Council as if by magic. The two seem to have a history, but she did not see her in the ballroom. She asked me to speak with the Council members to see what I could find out. They couldn't offer much beyond Gaspard threatening them." We entered the empty hall of statues. Meira passed something to Ellana.
"One of our spies passed this to me. A message for Briala we intercepted. It's a list of servant names, positions and times they entered the servants' quarters; they're asking Briala for help. The door is locked and the servants are spooked. All that have gone down there so far this evening have not returned. Whomever is responsible is killing any with pointed ears in order to eliminate Briala's agents and killing the human servants to prevent witnesses."

"That's sloppy work," I mused, "Neither Celene nor Briala seem the sloppy type. And Briala wouldn't eliminate her own people, would she?"

"Unlikely as she's been working tirelessly to improve the lives of Orlesian elves by prolonging the Civil War," Ellana murmured.

"Not even to frame someone else?" Meira proposed. "Though such an act would be enough to turn her own people against her, I'd wager."

"No doubt," Ellana nodded. "But who would she be trying to frame? Gaspard?"

"Perhaps. Or he's responsible," I countered, "Maybe even Celene or our infiltrator trying to cut off Briala's information and point the finger at Gaspard."

Meira let out an exasperated breath. "First, I need to find his ambassadors," Meira murmured, "In the meantime, get me access to the servants' quarters."

"I'll get word to Leliana," I assured as we stood before the ballroom doors that were open.

"Start moving our men into the palace as well," Ellana ordered, "If people are disappearing…I fear we may all be in danger. Not just the Empress."

"On your order," I nodded, "But how are you going to—"

"—The faces talk even when they aren't moving," Cole's voice spoke next to me as if he'd been with us the whole time, "Silk on satin on skin, always wanting, chaste but chased. Too many. They have faces inside their faces, lying with a layer that tells the truth. I-I-I don't know how to help them." His voice was worried.

"It's alright, Cole," Meira said gently, "You and I are going to get away from here for a bit."

"I helped until they made me stop," Cole stated dejectedly, "Now they've all forgotten. But I can help you. Too bright, but with dreamer and spirit we can make even them not see."

"Go on inside, Commander," Ellana nodded towards the ballroom, "I'll meet you after a bit."

I looked to Meira. "Good luck and be careful."

She gave me a nod and I returned to my post after speaking with Leliana, only to be swiftly bombarded by the same nobles from before.


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