A/N: set during blackwall's reveal/judgement

It was selfish, acting as she had. Believing as she did, forgiving as she did.

Learning about Blackwall – and Rainier – had been nothing but a relief for Aubrie, and it hadn't been for his sake.

He'd lied. So had she.

He'd murdered. So had she.

He had a past he'd wanted to leave behind. So did she.

And none of that mattered. Aubrie had once been no more than a young mage playing with fire – both literal and figurative – and committing herself to a life of ambition that ended more lives and careers than she dared to remember. And now, standing on a balcony overlooking Skyhold, gazing out across all the men and women who blindly followed her commands, Aubrie couldn't even consider condemning Rainier's actions.

She knew she should – that she should be furious, question him and make him earn her trust again and force him to prove himself.

But he only thing on her mind – the only thing that had been on her mind since learning the truth – was the Calling. Now that she knew the darkspawn wouldn't be taking him from her, she sure as hell wasn't going to let the Orlesian nobles take him.

Aubrie descended the steps to the main hall slowly, hands clasped behind her back and eyes thoughtful. Cullen would object, she was certain, but Leliana would no doubt already have a solution in mind, and Josephine could easily clean up the political mess that was sure to follow.

"Josephine," she called as she entered the ambassador's office, "call a meeting. We have business to discuss."

"Of course. You understand, this will be difficult." Josephine shooed away the girl standing beside her desk, a young mage who frequented her office for advice. "Not to do, but… the Inquisition's reputation will suffer."

"I don't care," Aubrie insisted, already headed for the war room. "I'll drag him out of prison myself, if that's what it takes."

It wasn't like Aubrie to leave the door to her quarters wide open.

Then again, it wasn't like Aubrie to be holed up in her quarters in the middle of the day.

Then again, it wasn't a normal day.

Tucking the book he was carrying under his arm, Dorian cleared his throat and began up the stairs, calling out in a deliberately light voice, "Apparently, there are three extremely powerful magisters currently in power that I had no idea about." Scoffing, he added, "You know, for such an illustrious organization, you'd think the Inquisition would fill its library with books that are factually correct."

Dorian rounded the corner into the Inquisitor's bedroom, hesitating at the sight of Aubrie – normally so stoic and certain – sitting helplessly at the edge of her bed, head in her hands, staring blankly at the rug on her floor.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, voice quieter. "I spoke to Josephine – she said the judgement would be any minute now. Whenever you're ready, I assumed."

"I don't want to judge him," Aubrie sighed, voice hoarse. She wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath before admitting, "I just want this to be over."

"Well, none of us are particularly excited about the turn of events." He sat beside her, turning the book over in his hands and staring down at the leather bindings. "This… it won't be easy. Is there anything I can do to help?"

She cracked a humorless smile, not taking her eyes from the floor. "Tell me what to do. That would be a huge help."

Dorian hesitated. "It's admirable, what he did – trying to fix everything."

"But is that enough? Does it justify…" Trailing off, Aubrie let out a long, frustrated sigh before sitting up and clasping her hands together. "Do you know what my first thought was? Bringing him back to Skyhold – that was impulse. But after that?" Dorian said nothing, so Aubrie continued. "Give him to the Wardens. He wants to make things better by being a Warden? Let him. The Orlesians will calm down because he's not just walking free, and we prove to the Wardens that the Inquisition trusts and respects them, something they desperately need after everything that happened at Adamant." She stared blankly out one of the windows. "It's the best option for the Inquisition."

"And that's not what you want?" Dorian guessed.

"I want to let him walk free," Aubrie admitted, voice filled with shame. "But… I can't. It's been… what, twenty years since my Harrowing? Twenty years since I've allowed myself to do what I want rather than what's best."

"That's certainly admir–"

Aubrie shook her head and cut him off with a sharp No. "It's not. It wasn't best for… for the greater good," she explained, "it was best for me. Survival was my only priority for so long, and the best way to survive is to rise to the top. Apprentices are beaten and raped every day, and no one bats an eye if they go missing. If a First Enchanter goes missing, someone will notice."

Again, Dorian hesitated; he was hardly the person to offer comfort when it came to the southern Circles. Either way, he could hardly fault Aubrie – or anyone, for that matter – for wanting to escape the horrors he'd heard all about.

"Some mages use blood magic to gain influence, or power, but they always get caught, in the end," Aubrie continued, opening up in a way that was uncharacteristic of her. "The templars are always looking for blood magic, and… with the right rumors, they'll always find it even when it isn't there. And that's what I had to do," she exclaimed angrily. "I watched an enchanter get beat to death because I told the templars she was a blood mage, and when they threatened her with Tranquility, she fought for her life." Aubrie paused, then added quietly, "They were going to promote an enchanter, and she had more experience than I did. There was no other way to ensure I was the one they chose."

They sat in silence after that – Aubrie nearly shaking at the weight of her confessions, and Dorian conflicted because the whole thing was uncomfortably reminiscent of his homeland.

"Just… be there. Please."

"What is it that Varric said?" Dorian mused, tone deceptively light, searching for any bit of comfort he could provide. "Good men know when they've done wrong? Blackwall has done a lot of good with the Wardens, and you've done a lot of good for the mages with the Inquisition. I'll be there at the judgement," he promised. "But keep that in mind."

Aubrie nodded. As Dorian began to leave, she stopped him. "That book. You said something about it being incorrect? I'll talk to Leliana and see if we can get either an updated copy or something with the correct information."

"Back to business, then?" Dorian tossed the book onto the couch, knowing that the distraction of work was exactly what Aubrie needed. "And, you know," he continued, "half your books on the Imperium are… well, I'm not certain if they're fiction or just Chantry propaganda, but they're far from accurate. I've got a list of all the errors – it's practically a novel itself."

Grabbing the book, Aubrie made her way over to her desk and scribbled down a note on a spare piece of paper. "Good. Send me the names of the books you want replaced. I'll get on it right away. Oh, and," she paused for a moment, looking up, "tell Josephine to get… everything ready. I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Of course." Dorian was positive that Aubrie's sudden shift in mood was more theatrical than it was genuine, but that was who Aubrie was; she put on the face people needed to see, spoke words that people wanted to hear. Fake it 'till you make it – another line stolen from Varric. It did work, to an extent; convince enough people that you're tough and confident, and eventually you'd begin to believe it, too.

It was, after all, a concept Dorian was familiar with.