"You did what!?" Alexius hisses, slamming his palms into his desk.

Taking a breath, Dorian replies, "Told Danarius that Cecilia was your niece."

The magister seethes, staring down his apprentice. With a sheepish shrug, Dorian continues, "It was the only thing I could think of. Now, I know it might seem a disgrace to have a non-mage in the family, but-"

Alexius interrupts, "What could possibly be the upside to that?"

Dorian smirks, "You've piqued interest. Specifically, Danarius'. His knowledge of lyrium is rivaled by none; he literally branded it into a living being. I think we need that knowledge, if we want to further our research."

"Hmm… You may be right. But you will be responsible for making her presentable. No niece of mine doesn't know how to act in polite society. Even if she is Orlesian."

"You won't be disappointed." Dorian promises.

"We shall see." With that, Alexius waves his hand in dismissal.

Bowing, Dorian turns toward the door, beckoning Cecilia as he goes. She curtsies quickly, then follows the young mage. Once the door closes, he quips, "I told you he wouldn't be mad!"

Raising an eyebrow, she remarks, "I'm surprised he didn't kill you."

Looking over his shoulder, Dorian responds, "Oh, because of that glare he was giving me? No, that's just how he says 'I love you'."

"If that's love, I wonder what hate looks like."

"Just imagine fire. That's a pretty good image of it."

She chuckles, "If you say so."

A few minutes later, the two arrive at a pair of double doors. Grinning mischievously, Dorian turns and instructs, "Close your eyes. Don't open them until I tell you."

Cecilia rolls her eyes, but acquiesces. The mage grabs her hands, guiding her through the door. He lets go of her hands, and she stands expectantly. She hears the whoosh of - curtains? - then Dorian's command of, "Open."

She opens her eyes to find herself in the middle of a grand library. Books lined the walls, floor to ceiling, of two stories. A staircase lays directly in front of her, leading to the second floor. To her right, a large fireplace, surrounded by plush armchairs, beckons. Cecilia spins slowly in circles, taking in the sight of the library. Grinning, she stops in Dorian's direction. "You were hiding this the entire time."

He shrugs, "I didn't think it was important."

Walking toward him, she swats him on the arm. "You didn't it was important!? What with me begging for more books to read every day?"

"It slipped my mind." he smirks.

"You are evil." she mock glares.

"I try." he replies. Becoming serious, says, "We have a lot to do in two weeks. You must learn how to act in polite society, if you're going to come out of Danarius' estate unscathed."

Frowning, she realizes, "I'm in a lot of trouble, aren't I?"

Cheerfully, Dorian replies, "Yes. But don't worry, you'll be fine as long as you do as I say."

Looking once again around the library, she thinks, There's no telling when I'll be able to go home. I guess it's either sink or swim at this point. Bracing her hands on her hips, she announces, "We'd better get started then, right?"

She hears her father's laughter from deep within the house. And then there's the piano, notes wafting through the air; weightless. She reaches, fingers empty as they fall into the sky. A drop of water on her neck. Rain. Tugging on her shirt. Fabric bunched in chubby fingers. Tag, you're it. Into the woods; brambles biting at knees. A clearing. Where did she go? Burning at her back. She turns. Yellow eyes gleam.

Cecilia blinks awake. Her neck is sore, and her face is plastered to parchment. Sitting up, she rubs her neck, glancing about the library. Moon beams float through the open window. Groaning, she looks at the mass of papers below her on the low lying table. Maybe it was a mistake to tell Dorian that I could learn a language in two weeks. It helps that Tevene resembles Latin. She may have taken French for eight years, but the patterns are still similar. Thank you, romance languages. Still, it's harder than she thought. Trying to cram 19 years of education into two weeks is impossible. She has to try, though. Otherwise...well, she'd rather not think of otherwise. Again, she massages her neck, standing from the ground and making her way to the window. She stares at the moon, just as bright and cratered as the one back home. She crosses her arms and sits in the cushioned seat of the bay window. That dream… It was the first she'd dreamt of home since she'd come to Thedas. She hadn't allowed herself to think of it, because if she did, she might have a breakdown. I missed Alana's recital… Cecilia hugs herself tightly, willing the ache in her chest to leave. She needs to be strong if she wants to get home. Dorian said Danarius may have knowledge that will help me get home, so I have to play nice. Shaking her head, she stands, pushing herself to the small mound of books on and around the coffee table by the fireplace; home to a fire that has since dwindled to embers. She stokes the embers, fanning the small flames and placing a new log in them. Then she picks up In Pursuit of Knowledge: Travels of a Chantry Scholar from the pile of books behind her. She mutters, "Brother Genitivi strikes again."

She reads: "To those outside of the Tevinter Imperium it is easy to imagine a society filled with mages and elven slaves and little else. In truth, there are three different Tevinters, each of them a world completely separated from the others…"

Hours later, the sun filtering through the same window that once held the moon, the doors to the library burst open. Startled, Cecilia looks up from her studying to see Dorian gliding through the door, fresh faced and smiling, shadowed by a gaggle of servants. The mage stops directly in front of her, frowning. "You look awful."

Yawning, Cecilia replies, "You'd look awful too if you'd spent the majority of the last week in a library trying to retain information that anyone else would have had years to learn."

Dorian purses his lips. "Doubtful. But I digress. Put down the books. You are going to bathe, and then we are going to do a little roleplaying."

She stares at him blankly, taking a moment to register what he's saying. Dorian, misunderstanding her hesitation, exclaims with a slight reddening of his cheeks, "No! Not that kind of role playing. Get your mind of out the gutter. You're hardly my type."

Finally catching up to what the young man is saying, Cecilia sputters, "That's not what I-"

With a wave of his arms, Dorian cuts her off, "No time to discuss. Go with Jorina here to the baths. Once you're clean, meet me here."

Giving up, Cecilia stands and follows the wisp of a girl that comes forward when Dorian mentions her name. Surprisingly, the girl is human. Cecilia follows the girl through the labyrinth that is Alexius' estate, one that hasn't become any easier to navigate despite the three weeks Cecilia has lived here. They pass numerous rooms, and the kitchens, before stopping at a door that opens into what Cecilia assumes are the baths. There are high vaulted ceilings held aloft by columns that ring a deep stone pool. Stained glass windows allow light to dapple the floor in different colors. Wordlessly, Jorina steps towards a roaring dragon's head, pulling a lever beside it to let water fall from its gaping mouth into the pool. As the pool fills, steam fills the air, and the servant pours salts and oils into the water. Inhaling, Cecilia smells roses. Finished, Jorina returns to Cecilia, beginning to unlace her dress. Shyly, Cecilia undresses, stepping out of the dress and shuffles toward the bath, dipping a foot into the water. Warm. She lowers herself into the water, pleased to find a ledge that allowed her to sit comfortably. Jorina brings a basket of soaps, placing them beside Cecilia at the edge of the pool. As the blonde girl stands to exit, Cecilia call, "Jorina?"

The girl turns, "Yes, milady?"

Cecilia regards the girl's face, masked in concern. Thinking better of bothering her, Cecilia smiles, "Never mind. Thank you for your help."

"Alright, milady. I'll be back within a half hour to help you."

"Thank you."

Alone, Cecilia submerges under the water, kicking of the side of the pool toward the middle, wading for a bit before returning her previous position. She begins to peruse the contents of the basket, sniffing the various soaps. Satisfied with her choices, Cecilia washes her body, relishing the smoothness of her skin as the sweat and grime is washed away. Then, she lathers her hair, carefully pulling her fingers through knots. Thirty minutes pass in no time at all, marked by the return of Jorina bearing freshly folded clothes. Placing the clothes on a wooden bench, the servant offers Cecilia a plush towel. Drying herself, Cecilia reaches for the clothes. She dons each layer quickly, ending with a simple wine colored dress that flows effortlessly to the floor. At Jorina's insistence, her hair is partially swept back by two gilded combs, leaving the rest to tumble freely down her back. The two exit, and on their return to the library, find Dorian orchestrating the servants he'd arrived with. Upon noticing their arrival, Dorian claps his hands and strides over to Cecilia, grabbing her by the arm and pulling her toward a middle aged servant, armed with measuring tape. Placing her directly in front of the seamstress, Dorian commands, "Stand still."

Immediately, the woman proceeds to measure every inch of Cecilia's body, dictating measurements to her assistants as she goes. Once finished, Dorian waves her away, calling, "Use those to alter the dress I had delivered to you. We need it in three days."

Whirling back toward Cecilia, Dorian finally takes a breath. "Alright. Now that you're here, I have only one question. How is your dancing?"

Confused, Cecilia repeats, "My dancing?"

He reiterates, "Your dancing. It isn't nearly as important here as it is in Orlais, but you still need to know how. Though honestly, high society gatherings are mostly gossip and conspiracy. And murder. No evening is complete without murder."

At her horrified expression, Dorian laughs. After calming himself, he comments, "I don't think I've seen a face like that since my mother learned news of Maevaris' scandal."

Glaring, Cecilia huffs, "Well, any decent human being would be horrified at the idea of murder."

"Don't let anyone hear you say that. It's a sign of weakness." he gives her a pitying look.

Cecilia opens her mouth to speak, but Dorian stops her, changing the subject. "Where was I? Right. Dancing. Come here."

She shuffles closer to him, glancing up at him with a wary eye. He pulls her close, one hand on her hip, and the grasping her opposite hand. He places her free hand on his shoulder. From this close, she has to tilt her head back more than usual to maintain eye contact. He notes, with a shiteating grin, "I'd forgotten you were so short. You barely pass my shoulders."

Glaring at him with hooded eyes and a set jaw, she silently dares the mage to keep pushing his luck. Dorian mockingly throws his hands in surrender, exclaiming, "That's the exact look you should show the magisters; they'll run from you with tails between their legs."

"I thought Fereldans were the dog people?" she asks, a half smile tugging at a corner of her lips.

Somewhat impressed, Dorian replies, "That's both clever and insulting. Well done."

"I learned from the best." she states with a wink.

He replaces his hands to their former positions. Eyes sparkling, he asks, "Shall we dance?"

"Let's."

The carriage ride to Danarius' estate is smooth, despite the erratic pace of her heart. She sits across from Alexius and his wife, who regards her kindly. Returning the gaze with a nervous smile, Cecilia brushes away an errant wisp of hair. She turns to the window, looking out over the moon washed fields of endless green. The stars seem brighter than she's ever seen them, mocking her from light years away. Resisting the urge to lick her rouged lips, she twists her hands in her lap, wishing she'd ignored Dorian's suggestion of no gloves - her hands were clammy. An eternity later, Cecilia is stepping from the carriage with the help of a liveried footman. She gasps at the sheer size of the estate; it's nearly double Alexius', all soaring arches and sentinel dragons. Lifting her skirts, Cecilia follows her companions through a marble archway and into the main entrance. Before her lies a grand staircase with glistening banisters and marble stairs. To her right, her eyes are caught by crisp white and china blue. Snow white roses, resting daintily in a vase. Elegant. Danarius has good taste. Throughout the hall, men and women - presumably magisters- greet each other in a flurry of dark colors. Red, purple, silver, and the occasional blue form the majority, accompanied by the ever present black. Cecilia herself wears a graceful off-the-shoulder black gown, embroidered in gilded leaf that shimmers in the torchlight as she moves. Its simple silhouette is in stark contrast to the rigid angles and flowing veils of others in the room. Her unruly hair has been tamed into elegant twists atop her head; small gold coins are hidden throughout them, peeking out at the faintest illumination. Ahead of her, she hears a familiar boisterous laugh. Excusing herself from Alexius and his wife, she makes her way toward the laugh, exiting the main hall and entering a ballroom with mirrored walls. Weaving through the scattered guests, Cecilia reaches her destination. Relief settles over her as she sees Dorian entrenched in conversation with older mages. She sidles up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He turns his head to her, and upon recognition, his eyes crinkle in welcome. Pulling her into the circle, Dorian waits until the current speaker finishes. At the lull in conversation, Dorian clears his throat, announcing in smooth Tevene, "Mother, Father. Lord Titus. May I present Lady Cecilia Baudier, of Orlais?"

Smoothing her face into a polite smile, Cecilia curtsies. I understood most of that. Maybe it won't be so bad. The man directly in front of her steps forward and takes her hand, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of it as he bows. Without skipping a beat, he adds in Orlesian, "It is an honor to meet you, my lady. I am Aurelian Titus."

Likewise, she replies, "The honor is mine, my lord."

The magister tilts his head inquisitively. "Your accent is quite unique. From where do you hail?"

"From a village just outside Val Fermin, Lord Titus."

"Ah. I have never had the pleasure of going so far south. I hear it is quite beautiful."

Cecilia nods. "It is. Especially during spring."

"I see. Well, I must take the time to visit one day." he looks away to the sound of his name. Returning his attention to Cecilia, he says with a curt bow, "If you'll excuse me. It was a pleasure."

Silence falls over the group before Dorian's mother, a beautiful woman with chestnut hair, introduces herself. Taking a sip of her wine, and passing it to her husband she intones, turning the conversation to Common, and "You'll have to forgive Lord Titus. He was only recently admitted to the Magisterium. Though he may be an upstart, he is a good friend of the Archon."

Dorian's father cuts a sharp glance to his wife. "Careful, Aquinea. Titus is well connected. His ear extends far."

Aquinea sniffs. "I see no sense in flocking to appease a man who until a month ago, no one had heard of. There hasn't been a Titus in the Magisterium since the Black Age." Her voice lowers, "He's a fraud, Halward."

The lord frowns, "Regardless, he has the Archon's favor, and so should have ours."

"Well, whatever you say, dear." she replies with another sip of wine. Cecilia stares helplessly between the two, her polite smile still plastered to her face. She feels a small throb begin at her temples. It's going to be a long night. She feels a hand at the small of her back. Dorian bends down to whisper in her ear, "Would you care to dance?"

Grateful, she nods. Excusing them from his parents, Dorian takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor. As the next song starts, they move. Making sure they've left his parents' earshot, Dorian apologizes, "Mother is terribly fond of drinking. And Father isn't the best at handling her."

Cecilia smiles. "She wasn't so bad."

Dorian shakes his head. "Yet. The key word is yet. Another glass of wine, only Andraste knows what she'd say."

"And here I thought that Pavus Family Embarrassment was your title." she teases.

He snorts. "It is. But I've been on much better behaviour as of late, so who knows how much longer I'll have it."

"Your father seems pleased, at least."

"Yes, he is. I'm fulfilling his hopes and dreams."

Cecilia raises an eyebrow. "Your enthusiasm is boundless, Dorian."

"There's nothing I want more than to be the man my father wants me to be." he drawls.

She laughs, "That's the spirit!"

They dance through another song before Cecilia sees a man hovering behind Dorian's shoulder, his face shadowed. As he steps into the light to tap Dorian on the shoulder, she realizes that it is their host, draped in black and red. Breaking from her, Dorian bows. She follows suit with a curtsy. With a bob of his head, Danarius asks, "May I cut in?"

Flashing Dorian a reassuring smile, Cecilia answers, "Yes, of course. How could I deny our gracious host?"

The magister smiles; it is not unlike a viper baring its fangs. He steps closer to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and her hand in his. Warily, Dorian backs away, slinking his way back into the crowd ringing the dancefloor. A moment later, in molten silver, Danarius says, "You look ravishing, my dear."

"Thank you, my lord. You look well as well."

He laughs. "I thank you. But I know well enough that I am past my prime. How do you find the festivities?"

"It's the most fun I've had since I came to Tevinter." she responds truthfully.

"I am glad. Though the night has barely begun. I would hold on to that most until the night is done."

"That sounds ominous, my lord."

He lets loose a chuckle. "Orlais has the peril of the Game to keep its gentry busy. We put it to shame."

The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, and she comes to an abrupt halt. Dropping into a deep curtsy, she says, "If you'll excuse me, I need something to drink."

He bows just as deeply, a near mocking twist to his lips as he answers, "Of course."

Cecilia turns and nearly runs into the silver ghost returning to his master's side. Murmuring a quick apology, she sidesteps the elf and leaves the room as quickly as her skirts will allow. She bursts into a poorly lit hallway, disturbing a couple embracing in a corner. Ignoring them, she continues on, striding out onto an open balcony a few paces on. Once there, she leans heavily on the balustrade, taking a breath of the cool night air. What is wrong with you!? He said nothing Dorian hasn't said before. Now he's going to think you can't handle Tevinter. Stupid…. With an angry puff escaping her, she looks toward the sky. She can finally see the moon, and she smiles to the man within in it. Shaking her head, she scolds, "You know, it would have been nice if you had warned me? For all the years we've been friends, you'd think you would."

The moon, of course, doesn't reply. Continuing on, she says, "I hear there's two of you here. How does that feel?"

"Awful. I couldn't imagine there being two of me."

Cecilia jumps, and turns to see a young man in green robes grinning sheepishly at her. He holds his arms up in surrender. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to startle you. I'm guessing you weren't talking to me."

Embarrassed, she shakes her head. "No."

"Oh. Well, that's a relief." he joins her at the balustrade. "Who were you talking to?"

She shifts uncomfortably for a moment before pointing up. "The moon. Manny. I know it's weird, but I can't help but feel that he looks after me."

He dismisses the thought with a wave of his hand. "It's not really. I've seen weirder." he pauses then continues, "My name is Felix, by the way. I don't know what my parents have told you about me, but I thought I'd formally introduce myself."

Wryly she replies, "That would be helpful, considering we're meant to be cousins. I'm Cecilia."

He holds out a hand. "A pleasure to meet you."

"To you as well." she shakes his hand. Caught by the absurdity of the moment, she laughs until tears come to her eyes. At his concerned look, Cecilia explains, "I'm just laughing at the mess I've found myself in. A world away from home and caught between a war and magisters who are all out for each other."

His mouth quirks up in a half smile. "Welcome to Tevinter."

Deadpan, she replies, "Thanks. I feel oh so welcome."

They fall into a comfortable silence, staring at the moon. A few moments later, Cecilia asks, "How did you get here?"

"By carriage. I was at a tutor's and stayed much later than I ought to have. Otherwise, I would have accompanied you and my parents."

"You spend a lot of time being tutored. I think I've only seen you in passing for the last two weeks."

"Yes. If I barely qualify as a mage, I might as well work hard studying other subjects. I'm particularly fond of mathematics." There's a small hint of pride in his voice.

She smiles warmly. "Your father was telling me about that. Lucky you, I can't make heads or tails of math most of the time."

Surprised, he asks, "Father told you? Really? Grandfather says I'm barely more than a Soporati."

"Yes. It's obvious how much your father cares for you. I wouldn't listen to your grandfather if I were you. Magic isn't everything. I've known plenty of great people who couldn't do magic."

"You weren't born in Tevinter." he accuses.

"No," she acquiesces, "But, contrary to popular belief, Tevinter isn't the center of the universe."

Felix chuckles. "Some of the people here tonight would die if you said that to their faces."

"I have no doubt." She pauses then asks, "How did you find me?"

"Oh!" he exclaims, straightening in remembrance. "I almost forgot. Father sent me to follow you, to ask what happened during your dance with our host."

With a grimace, Cecilia turns and braces herself on the baluster so that she is facing the mansion. "He didn't say anything inappropriate. In fact, he was a gentleman. But he was almost too perfect. Like a cat playing with its prey."

Felix nods. "That's a common feeling in the Magisterium. Still, Danarius is a powerful magister. He's also arguably one of the most intelligent. And you seem to have caught his attention, so it's best to stay on his good side."

Cecilia groans, "Why me?"

"Because you had the gall to scold him for nearly killing a slave." he says, amused.

"Being a decent person is hardly an achievement."

"Decency is relative."

"It really isn't." she rebuts.

"You're right. But that mentality isn't going to change overnight. In the meantime, you should get back to the party. Father will have a conniption if you stay away any longer."

She nods and, smoothing out her dress, returns inside with Felix at her heels. The party is the same as she had left it; small clusters of people stand embroiled in gossip and debate. Cecilia grabs a glass of champagne from the tray of a passing servant. After taking a sip, she enters the fray. With every step, she feels more eyes following her. Upon joining her companions, she is surprised to see that they are conversing with Danarius. Catching Fenris' eye, she gives a slight nod in greeting. She doesn't look to see if it is reciprocated as she enters the loose circle the group makes. She hears the tail end of Aquinea's question, "...that bad, is it?"

Danarius nods. "Yes, I'll be shipping off to Seheron within the week."

Halward grunts in affirmation. "There was news just last week of another attack, barely five miles outside the city. The casualties were immense."

"Who were the fighters?" Felix pipes up.

"The reports weren't clear. It could have been the Fog Warriors, or the Ben-Hassrath," Alexius cuts in.

Danarius continues, "Regardless, it's imperative that they are stopped at once. Losing Seheron would be unacceptable. We need the port."

Sounds of agreement come ripple through the group. Cecilia just listens as the rest of the conversation follows the intricacies of the politics of the Magisterium; she knows she can't contribute. Every so often, Dorian will shoot her a glance or a yawn, and it takes all she has not to laugh, suddenly, from the corner of her eye, she catches movement along with the flash of steel. The response is instantaneous. Fenris lunges behind his master, a blue blur as he meets the assailant. When he materializes, his arm is elbow deep inside the assassin's chest. In a harsh motion, the elf rips the man's heart from his body. It crumples to the floor. The entire ballroom is awash in stupefied silence. Fenris drops the heart and shakes the blood from his hand. As he returns to Danarius' side, whispers fill the silence. Cecilia feels a touch to her shoulder, and looking at Felix, she realizes her mouth is wide open in shock. Closing it, she tunes into what the magister is saying. "...Yes, my little wolf is quite talented."

At the smugness in his tone, bile rises to her throat. To talk like that about someone who just saved your life… She looks at Fenris. He looks steadily ahead, emerald eyes blank. You wouldn't even know that he'd just killed a man… The rest of the night is over in the blink of an eye, passing hours only marked by the gradual decline of people in attendance. Dorian and his family leave before her and the Alexius clan. She sends them off in vestibule as she waits for Alexius, his wife, and Felix. As she turns from the door, Danarius walks through the archway from the ballroom. She starts, and stepping backwards, knocks over the vase of roses to the right of her. The crash as it breaks echoes through the grand hall. Panicking, she falls to her knees in an effort to pick up pieces of broken sky. Feeling the magister's gaze on her, she abandons the task, and standing, begins to ramble out an apology. "I am so so so so sorry. I can pay you back…"

At the raise of his hand, she stops. Seriously, he states, "That vase was commissioned by my great-grandmother. It is a priceless family heirloom."

Cecilia opens her mouth to speak, only to close it again at his sharp glare. He continues, "Putting a price on such an object is impossible. Nevertheless, I will require payment."

"Of course. Anything."

The magister stalks closer to her. "You will accompany me to Seheron. I am told of you are a quick study in language and are trained in the study of people. You will learn the language and culture of the Qunari, and you will use this information to help Tevinter."

I did tell Alexius that I went to university for Anthropology. Damn it. I saw that thing when I came in, too. It might as well have had a flashing neon arrow over it. Shit. Calming herself, she asks, "And if I refuse?"

"You did say anything."

"Fair enough." Risking my life in Seheron doesn't seem to line up with breaking a vase. Unless… he knows, or suspects that I'm not from here? Is that even possible?

Alexius and his family walk through the door. He demands, "What's going on here?"

Smoothly, Danarius replies, "I was just asking your niece if she would lend me her linguistic and cultural expertise during my time in Seheron. With your permission, of course."

Alexius raises a brow as he remarks, "Seheron is dangerous."

"She would be kept quite safe. I will have a company with me that will guard her."

Her "uncle" regards her for a moment. Seeming to come to a decision, he nods. "Very well. If she consents, I see no reason she shouldn't go."

Danarius looks to her expectantly. With an inward sigh, she replies, "Fine. I'll go."

"Excellent!" he exclaims. "Meet me at the docks - at noon - in three days' time."

Before she can reply, he whisks her cloak from the servant bringing it to her, and drapes it around her shoulders. Staring into her eyes, he states, "It's the opportunity of a lifetime, dear. Smile."

Uncomfortably, she does. It is only after they have been in the carriage for a while that the enormity of what she had agreed to hits her. She looks out the window. The moon, of course, looks down on her in silence. Oh Manny, what did I get myself into?