I had the briefest glimpse of Alistair, wearing a red and maroon suit with white fur trim, before the crowd shifted, blocking my view of the entire party.

"I hate being short." I muttered to Varric, turning away from something I couldn't see anyway. "Everyone's always blocking our view."

He snorted, "I'd make a joke, but I'm sure we're both sick to death of them."

"True enough." A glance to my side showed that Hawke and Carver had moved a few steps away, speaking quietly to one another while they watched the King of Ferelden and the Grand Cleric go past. I lowered my voice further, leaning in. "Sorry I've been so busy."

"You're helping rebuild a small city, and practicing constantly for a dueling competition." Varric replied. "Kind of expected you to be absent for a while, Buzz."

"Still, sorry." I sighed. "How's business with the Guild?"

"I think I've finally gotten them off my back for a while. Maker knows how long that'll last though" He sipped some of his wine, shaking his head. "It's really the other matter that's driving me up the walls right now. How many are you up to?"

I grimaced, taking a fortifying sip of my own drink. "Fifty-four marriage requests in total. Twenty seven from the Alienage, three from Starkhaven, and twenty one from Ostwick on the Elven side of things. For the Humans, add three local Knights and one fat Baron who thought I should be honored to lay under his equally fat son."

Varric chuckled though there wasn't much actual humor in his voice. "You're still a few by hundred behind me, but not bad for just a few months worth of work."

A bit of motion drew my eyes up to see Hawke returning, her easy grin on her lips. "This sounds like venting about marriage proposals, am I right?"

"You are." I replied, trying not to frown when Carver slipped away as casually as someone his size could manage. That it is to say he was only slightly more subtle that a charging bull, if only because he was polite about stepping past the wealthy dwarves all around us. "How many are you at?"

Her fingers snapped together, "I knew I should have been keeping track. I had no idea that was proper bragging material at parties."

"Hawke." Varric chided playfully, "You're not a proper noble until you've refused at least fifty marriages and stood up someone you hate at the altar."

"Pretty sure I'm close then." Hawke chuckled. "And I managed the last one already."

I perked up, already interested in the gossip. "You can't not tell us the full story, not when you led it like that."

"Not much to tell. Loghain tried to break our little rebellion by offering all kinds of favors, and when that didn't work he tried to arrange marriages for us. Then he had them done by proxy when his people failed miserably at abducting us." She thought about it for a moment. "I think he had me wed some southern Bann who ended up getting eaten by the Darkspawn on their way to Denerim."

I eyed her when she stopped there. "Wait. That's it?"

Brilliant blue eyes blinked, her confidence visibly faltering. "Was it not supposed to be?"

"Not epic enough." I said flatly. There was no way that anything Hawke had done in Ferelden could be so... bland. Thedas was screwed up enough, I was not going to tolerate a bland backstory for one of my favorite characters. "You're Hawke, a Hero of the Blight. Your fake proxy wedding arranged by a regicidal maniac needs to be equally as awesome when I tell the Alienage about it. Varric? We need to fix this."

Varric's grin widened, "Damned right we do. A daring escape you think?"

I hummed in thought, "Definitely. You're a legendary archer, right?"

Hawke looked baffled, glancing between us. "It's been said. What are you-"

"Good. You have to work that in." I told Varric seriously. "And a comedic end to it. How about... oooh, a stand-in after she leaves. Mabari?"

"Too stereotypical." He replied.

"A seal then." I suggested, "We move the wedding to the coast."

"Cliffs are good for dramatic exits.. no. A chase." He threw back more of his wine, "And we can't have it be a creepy old goat she was marrying either. Need a good moralizing moment to puff up her image a bit."

"But it was-"

I shushed Hawke, "Let the man work."

"I think... yeah, I've got it. Buzz? Hold this." I took his his wine, letting him crack his fingers and shake his hands out. He looked Hawke up and down one more time, nodded once, and we were fucking off.

"No shit, there she was, the legendary Hawke of Ferelden." His raised voice made the Guild members around us stop pretending to talk to each other, all of them turning to listen. "Captured by Loghain's men, stolen away in the dead of night from the Wardens camp. She could hear her brother and sister shouting, the song of battle as the others tried to fight their way to her."

Tragically they couldn't reach her, of course. Hawke herself just gaped as Varric invented an entire tale on the spot, detailing how she'd been drugged, bundled away to Ferelden's eastern coastline to be forced into a marriage.

He had to pause there, the announcer belting out that Dumar was walking in, listing off his titles. Then adding that his son was present, and that a handful of Kirkwall's more elite knights were attending to them. Meaning they'd paid a small fortune to simply have their names shouted out while they walked behind the Viscount.

The way nobles that weren't Varric spent money baffled me. It really did.

As soon as the crowd quieted Varric was back at it.

He described how Hawke picked the lock of her own cell, jumping a guard from behind to steal his bow. The utterly ridiculous trick shots she began pulling off in order to escape; everything from shooting daggers out of men's hands to cutting distance ropes to drop things on them. How she mercifully stayed her hand when she encountered her would-be husband, finding him a mere boy wrapped up in plots beyond him.

And finally a frantic race on horseback along the cliffs, ending when she put an arrow through the heart of the wicked agent of Loghain's who led the raid to abduct her. Her joyous reunion with her brother and sister, and a final note that boy found himself forced to kiss a seal stood in for her by the evil Arl... though he sent a secret letter to Hawke, asking for a real kiss when he was old enough.

"Ha!" One of the older Guild members chortled at the end, "Finally new material, Tethras! A good one at that."

"Should definitely print that one." A woman in green nodded. "A compendium of such stories on the Heroes of the Blight, while it's still fresh in mind. You'd make excellent sales with everyone so eager to hear what actually happened in that backwater kingdom."

Varric started to wave her off, paused, then rubbed his chin in thought. "Huh. A compendium of the tavern stories isn't a bad idea really. I'll have to talk with my editor about that."

The woman beamed, and before he could defend himself she was upon him. One arm threaded through his, already steering him toward a crowd ready to pounce. "You can use my salon, I've always wanted to meet the most feared woman in Kirkwall. I was hoping to speak to her about..."

He gave me a somewhat desperate look for help... and I drank some of his wine before turning to a rattled looking Hawke. Leaving him to be devoured by the Guild, who promptly swarmed their wealthiest member when he was vulnerable.

I didn't really feel bad. I'd owed him one for entering me into the damned Dueling Tournament.

And besides, I'd rescue him later.

...maybe.

"See? Much more epic." I told Hawke. "Next someone asks you about what happened, you tell them that whole thing."

"That... was not even close to what happened." She blinked, turning to look at me. "How did he manage to spin that up on the spot?"

I shrugged. "It's his talent. I'd call it magical if he wasn't a dwarf. Get a bit of alcohol in him, give him a good pitch, and he can turn a trip to the baker into a swashbuckling adventure, complete with a duel with a dragon on the side."

"Huh." Hawke sipped form her glass, then that damnably playful smirk returned. "So. What grand tales has he spun about you? Besides your little adventure together in the Deep Roads."

My weight shifted as she turned it around on me. "I think he's still telling the one where I'm a bard on the run from Orlais, even after I stabbed in the book for it."

"...you mean in the back?"

"No, the book." I paused, then sheepishly admitted. "I was very drunk that night, and it was the first valuable thing of his I could grab."

Hawke's snickers were swallowed by an eager rumble from the crowd, drawing our attention to the far end. I was finally able to see Dumar when he ascended a small platform, Alistair walking up beside him. Even from the far side of the hall it was tell to tell that the King was clearly uncomfortable. He looked more than ready to get the speeches over with.

Fortunately Dumar wasn't one for long-winded monologues. "Welcome, lords and ladies, to Kirkwall. We greet you in the name of the Bride of our Blessed Maker, the Most Holy Andraste. May her grace and mercy bless us all, and the arms of the competitors in the Grand Tourney!"

A general cheer went up, plenty of glasses and mugs rising at the religious invocation. I lifted both of mine, then finished off Varric's.

"It is our further pleasure to welcome King Alistair Theirin of Ferelden, and raise a toast in salute to the Gray Wardens who defeated the Archdemon of the Fifth Blight! May the Sixth and Seventh perish even more swiftly!"

That cheer was louder, Alistair looking beyond relieved when Dumar went on without asking him to speak.

"And now we ask you all to feast, dance, and be merry in our glorious hall!" Dumar's arms spread wide, "Let us celebrate the Grand Tourney of the Free Marches!"

And with the third roar of approval, the party officially started.

"So," I said before she could try to ask more questions about me. "Your King didn't look terribly happy up there."

"I doubt he was. He was excited to get out of Denerim, at least until he remembered he'd still have to act the part." She watched as he headed off the stage, apparently listening as Dumar said something into his ear. "I really should go save him before he makes a fool of the entire kingdom. I don't suppose you'd be willing to come along?"

Meet Alistair, finally get some stories on the Fifth Blight?

"Happy to." I said with total honesty. "Just don't be surprised if I have to duel someone on the way. I've been told that my ears have been out of fashion for a few thousand years."

She grinned, offering me an arm, "At least you've got a sense of humor about it. I'm told it makes it easier to bear."

"It doesn't." I carefully slid the hand holding Varric's empty glass around her elbow, Hawke keeping her strides short enough for me to easily keep up. "But it lets me retaliate in kind. If I'm going to be upset and insulted, I'd rather everyone around me be just as displeased."

"Hard to argue with that." Her voice lowered as we cleared the corner that the Guild had claimed, turning a bit more serious. "Huh. You weren't kidding. There's already three men and a woman who look ready to run you through."

I'd only spotted two of them, finding the woman after a longer look. I missed the last one entirely. Not great. When I replied it was with my wine glass up, making sure no one could read my lips.

"Welcome to being an Elven noble." I whispered. "Everyone wants to kill me or rape me. Either way my line ends without another elf to replace me, and the knife-ears are put back in their place. I'm sure it's no different for the ones your King elevated in Denerim. Or those Dalish he gave land to."

Hawke closed her eyes for a moment, shaking her head. "I want to say it is, to say it's not that bad in Ferelden, but I'm afraid it isn't."

I shrugged, the pair of moving a bit aside, walking through the open space closer to the wall. "People hate what's different. Nobles always resent newcomers, no mater the race, and the commons hate the idea that the few people below them might not be inferior after all. Elevating an Elf just brings the two into alignment in their hatreds for once."

She glanced at me, then quickly turned to glare off a Chevalier who'd started to approach. "I've got to say, you're the most educated sounding Elf I've ever met. And I've met quite a few over the past two years. You sure you're not really an Orlesian bard?"

I snorted, tugging her to a halt when we neared an Elven woman holding a tray. "Just a lost elf of the north. Good evening, Divera."

"Good evening, Lady Maeve." She held out her platter, letting me set Varric's old glass on it. "Were you told of the Madame?"

"I was. Sarand has my orders."

The young woman bowed, slipping away as we moved on. Hawke barely waited for the girl to depart before chuckling, "You sneaky bitch. All of the servants here are what, your spies?"

"Something like that."

"And suddenly I see why everyone thinks you're a bard. You've certainly got the spycraft of one, and you definitely have the looks of one." Her smirk did not made my heart skip a beat when she directed it at me. That was just the wine going to my head already.

"And you are far too flattering." I replied, fighting the urge to lick my lips. "It's less spycraft and more survival. You'll find that we elves pay far more attention than most give us credit for. It helps us avoid problems. Most days, at least... it's been getting harder since we were titled, even if the preparation for the Tourney's been distracting everyone."

Her smirk faded, pace slowing further when we finally got a good look at the King just ahead. The younger Dumar was apparently questioning him intently while Cullen stood nearby, the three men drinking from heavy mugs of ale while a few serious looking men and women in Mabari-themed suits and dresses stood guard nearby.

"Let me see if I can pull him away." She murmured, "Will you be all right on your own?"

"I did survive quite a while without you in my life, messere."

She had a good fake-gasp, "And here I thought we were already inseparable, bonded by love and friendship at first sight."

"I'm sorry Hawke." I said, bowing my head regretfully. "It's not me. It's you."

"I'm sure that's not how that cliché goes." Hawke huffed, sliding her arm free of mine. "So much for my warm welcome. I'll have to lodge a complaint about the hospitality of this city."

I shrugged carelessly, bringing my wine up to sip. "It's not my fault Isabella's smirk is more wicked than yours."

"That's not-wait." Her head shook, eyes blinking rapidly. "Isabella. Captain Isabella? Rivaini, constantly falling out of her shirt, nearly as beautiful as myself?"

"Yes, yes, and a nine and a half to your nine."

Hawke pouted at once. "What am I missing that she has?"

"You're not dressed like a pirate." I supplied. "Also, you're failing miserably to let me meet a King."

That got me a boisterous laugh, "I suppose I can't argue with either of those. I'll be back with one rather awkward King who will be thrilled to have someone interesting to banter with for a while."

I lifted my glass in salute, got another too-pleasant smile in reply, and then she was slipping past the guards to approach the chatting men. I watched, interested, as she greeted Cullen first with a slap on the back. He twitched sharply at the touch, whirling to scowl at her...

...then he grinned, stepping up and embraced her in a fierce hug that made Alistair throw his head back in laughter.

Huh. Now that was interesting.

I was musing on that when a quiet clatter of armor drew my attention in time to see little Trevalyan awkwardly stepping around a pair of knights from Starkhaven who'd been doing their best to pretend I didn't exist. "Messere."

"Evelyn." I nodded to her, "Does the Knight-Commander need something?"

"Yes, messere." She shifted her weight nervously, "It's confidential."

Great. Exactly what I didn't need right now. Fighting the urge to scowl, I motioned the girl to come over, moving until my back was against the wall. Only then did she step in, moving to whisper into my ear.

"She said only I could tell you this. But, um..."

I exhaled heavily when she stalled, "Evelyn, just tell me what it-"

Her hand abruptly yanked my wine glass out of my fingers, the squire dancing back before I could grab after it.

"Hey!" I snapped, definitely glaring at her. "What are you doing?"

The possible-Inquisitor flushed, but stood her ground. "The Knight-Commander gave me explicit orders. You are not to have more than one half glass of wine per hour tonight, and I am to ensure that you don't over indulge."

My fingers twitched. "How much I drink is none of her business."

"Um, she is the Knight-Commander. And... um, well, the entire city knows you have a drinking problem." Her armor creaked a bit more, weight shifting from foot to foot. "You can have this back at the next bell, messere."

"Evelyn."

She swallowed nervously. "Lady Elowen agrees, don't... oh."

I felt my attention sharpen at once when the teen looked around, clearly having expected the other Elven noble to be present.

A woman with a cultured accent caught my ear, speaking loudly enough to carry. "-truly fought Maleficar, darling?"

...shit.

I found Elowen standing awkwardly just past the men from Starkhaven, Madame de Fer right beside her.

Vivienne wore an elaborate dress, the colors a a mix of icy blues and purest white. Above a silver mask inlaid with sapphires, she had a full head of curly hair filled with ribbons of the same. The hairstyles that looked so ridiculous on others looking refined on her.

And the stuck up, beautiful bitch was at least as tall as Hawk, with close to a foot of height over even Elowen when she stepped closer.

"Yes, we fought several." Elowen saw me coming, slumping at once in relief.

It was far too obvious a tell for this kind of ball. Vivienne followed her gaze, cocking her head a little to one side as I approached.

"Good evening, darling. You must be the Dame Maeve I have heard so much about?" She greeted, voice still just loud enough to make sure everyone nearby turned to look, to witness the display. "Knight and Lady of Kirkwall?"

I tipped my head, using the motion to glance over to Hawke to find her gone. A longer, more panicked look revealed her storming off in another direction, Alistair hurrying alongside her as if she was the royal and he the subordinate trying to stop her from doing something politically unwise.

Shit. That probably wasn't good on its own, and it cost me my backup.

"I am Maeve Anderson, yes, and a Knight." I replied. I wasn't predisposed to like Vivienne at the best of times, and from her opening salvo she already had an ax to grind with me.

At a minimum, I could run interference for Elowen.

"Opinions differ on whether or not I'm a lady." I injected the quote from Martin to buy myself some time to think, following it with another stalling effort. "I do not believe we've been introduced."

Vivienne's smile was fake in a way that Hawke's hadn't been, her eyes clearly noting how I took those few extra steps to stand partially between her and my baroness. "Enchanter Vivienne, Court Mage to the Empire of Orlais."

"Lovely titles." I told her, casually resting both hands on the hilt of my sword, hoping the pose looked appropriately martial. "What brings the rare Mage loose from the Circles over to talk to my lady?"

"The Baroness was being accosted most shamefully by some Nevarran fool." Vivienne purred, tipping her head to Elowen. "I could not abide witnessing such low behavior."

Elowen cleared her throat, "And I thanked you for sparing me from his attention."

"Think nothing of it my dear."

I tipped my head to her again, "Thank you, Enchanter. I am certain we shall see you at the tilts during the tourney."

Vivienne's smile became a pointed smirk when she denied my attempt to retreat. "Come now, darling. Let us not waste this fortuitous chance to get to know one another. The Imperial Court is simply bursting with curiosity. It is not every day that one hears that Elves have been Knighted, much less ennobled."

"I'm sure they are." I replied, unable to stop the sour tones to my voice. "I'm equally sure they had plenty of things to say about a city that would let Elves earn titles."

"Of course they did." She waved a dismissive hand, as if such comments weren't worth repeating. "But the true questions are what you did to earn such rewards. I was just asking the Baroness about the supposed Maleficar attack on your alienage."

I was ready to reply when Trevalyan stepped up from where she'd been lurking, chin raised. "There was nothing supposed about it. They led the defense of the Kirkwall Alienage against an attack by maleficar and mercenaries. Lady Elowen held the shield wall against three times their number, and the Lady Maeve killed a maleficar in single combat."

"Ser Thrask struck the killing blow." I corrected mildly, noticing that we'd begun to draw a crowd just as when I'd dueled outside.

"Only after you had already run him through." The girl insisted. "He was already falling when the Knight-Lieutenant relieved him of his head."

Vivienne glanced at the girl, an eyebrow rising elegantly. "The Knight-Commander's very own squire defends you? Most impressive darling. I would not have expected such astute playing of the Game from someone so new to it."

I snorted. "I could care less about your Orlesian nonsense. I did what I had to do to survive, and to help my people. That the Knight-Commander rewarded me for it was entirely incidental."

"I'm sure." Younger she may have been, but Vivienne had probably perfected her poker face more than a decade ago. Her expression gave me nothing when she went on, "I merely find it most odd that such a... common woman was able to so quickly rise. I hear that you train the Knight-Commander's squire, write to her regularly. That you are a confidant of a Deshyr of great wealth, and have even advised the Viscount himself."

...well. Shit. She was well informed, I'd give her that much.

"And your accent is most intriguing, as is your speech." Vivienne went on, smiling at me once again. "I can hardly believe that you are one of those barbarians from the Donarks."

"I never claimed to be from the Donarks." I fought the urge to flex and fidget my fingers. "I'm from beyond the edges of your maps, as far North as Ferelden is South."

One of her thin eyebrows rose once more. "So that is the true tale? I find that rather hard to believe, darling. That you were a would-be Bard who failed her training in Orlais may not be the most flattering tale, but you must admit it is far more likely."

"Truth is stranger than fiction." I quoted back at her.

She let out a tiny huff, a false-laugh maybe. "Spoken like a true bard, who knows the best way to hide the truth is to bury it beneath an ocean of lies. Come now, my dear. We are all in good company here, and you have already been awarded title. Who was the mentor who broke convention to train an Elven woman in the ways of the bard?"

Elowen cleared her throat, stepping up a little to defend me. "No one. She's from the north, Enchanter."

"She is." Trevelyan added, hesitating for just a moment before offering me my wine glass again. I took it while she went on, "The Knight-Commander knows the truth of it."

Vivienne glanced between them. The hand she'd kept hidden in the sleeves of her dress rose, revealing itself to be holding a glass of her own. She sipped at hers just as I did the same to mine, speaking only when I'd forced myself to not down the entire thing.

"Well, one certainly cannot argue with the wisdom of a Knight-Commander." That fake smile returned. "How good to see that she has created such a rapport with the Elves of the city."

Elowen frowned at her, "We respect her greatly."

"Of course you do, darling. She played the Game well by working with your people as she has. I must say I never expected it from a woman with her reputation, but it was most cleverly done."

"...she's not manipulating us." Elowen shook her head. "This isn't your Orlesian Game thing."

A bit of condescension finally broke into Vivienne's voice. "Everything is the Game, Baroness. One plays or is played, whether you be in the court of Val Royeaux, or live in this charming little city. It is no wonder your Knight rode to your rescue. She clearly knows that truth."

I felt my temper start to fray. "Such disdain for one of the great Marches, Enchanter. How quickly you forget your origins, turning your loyalty to the Empire."

She opened her mouth to reply when I paused, then closed it when I cut her off. "And to call everything the Game as well? One would think you were a noble after all, rather than a common girl from Wycome."

"I earned my place in Court." Vivienne countered, voice going softer. A definite warning that I was pushing it. "As I earned my place in Orlais."

A long pull from my glass of wine stopped me from sniping that she'd earned it on her back. I was a bitch, but not that much of one. For all of her faults, and holy fuck did she have a lot of them, I knew that she really did love the old Duke she'd taken up with.

I'd happily attack her over her politics, superiority complex, and immense arrogant hypocrisy, but I'd forgo attacking her love life.

"Which I actually respect you for." I told her, meaning it. "You came from nothing, and elevated yourself spectacularly. Such ambition and talent is extremely respected among my people."

"Thank you, darling." The words were grateful, but her eyes were narrow. She knew I wasn't done.

And I wasn't. Her one virtue was ruined by her complete wasting of the position she'd achieved, and I told her as much. "That's why it's such a shame you don't actually do anything with that power. I'm told you throw fabulous parties, entertain the court. Yet I've never heard of a charity you run, neither for your fellow mages, nor for the Templars you claim to respect."

Her lips increasingly thinned as I went on. "You really have gone native, haven't you? You equate waste and frivolity with influence and power, just like those foolish Orlesians the Marchers drove off centuries ago. I am quite glad that my accident led me to live in the Free Marches. Those of wealth and talent are far more sensible here."

I'd aimed the last one at the crowd to my right; there were several men and women who looked to be of Kirkwall, and not of the old aristocracy. They grinned, offering me salutes of their cups and a loud murmur of agreement.

"You will find that I have done a great deal to improve the lives of my fellow mages, from my place at court." Vivienne replied, the affability in her voice increasingly brittle. She must not have expected me to go on the attack like that, or to play to those few people in the crowd who didn't loathe me.

Sorry, Viv. I wasn't an uneducated city elf for you to poke and toy with to make yourself feel better about the slights Kirkwall had offered you.

"I'm sure you have." I said, as patronizingly as possible. "Then perhaps you'd be interested in a charity I intend to organize? I'm helping pay for a retirement home for old Templars outside of the city you see."

Vivienne's fingers finally twitched around her glass. Proof that I'd well and truly gotten under her skin. "How could I refuse such a worthy cause? I will ensure a proper donation is set aside."

"Thank you, darling." I smiled, rising my glass before drinking down the last of it.

I think it was the 'darling' that drove her over the edge, inspired her to go on the attack in return instead of withdrawing.

"Darling, you simply must learn to pace yourself." She gave my empty glass a pointed look, "Two cups of wine already? One simply cannot begin one's nobility with such a... common failing for her people."

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, not sure how she'd known I'd polished off Varic's wine. Beside me Elowen openly bristled, "What are you implying?"

"Only that your people are most vulnerable to the effects of liquor." Vivienne said, as if baffled at Elowen's anger. "It has been proven by the University in Orlais, my dear. Your sleight forms cannot tolerate it well, and become addicted all too easily. I would think that Elves as knowledgeable as yourselves would know better than to overindulge so early in the evening. It hasn't been a full bell yet."

My fingers tightened around my glass as the majority of the nobles around us chuckled and sneered, clearly supporting the Enchanter.

"That," The Baroness growled, clearly noticing the reaction. "is both prejudiced and false."

"One cannot deny a truth simply because it is unflattering." Her eyes flicked between us, confidence returning when she realized that it had only been a minority of the nobles who'd saluted my points against her. "On the notion of unflattering, you must tell me the name of your seamstresses. I intend to lodge a complaint at such... gauche colors. And honestly, darling, feathers? One would think you a wild Chasind."

I couldn't help but snort; the first attack had hurt, the second had missed.

"Tell me, Viv," That finger flex came again, and I couldn't stop a smirk, "Why should we give a flying fuck about what's in fashion in Orlais? A nation that hunts our race for sport when they get bored of stabbing one another in the back over which fork was used at dinner."

That patronizing tone returned. "One cannot simply pretend that the great empire does not exist because you do not care for it."

"Great Empire? What's so great about it? It has lost every war its waged with Nevarra, lost control of the Kirkwall, and was thrown out of Ferelden in humiliation barely thirty years past. Their last triumph was against the Qunari as merely one member of a coalition, and even that was close to two centuries ago."

The local nobles snickered and murmured their approval once more, and a few nearby men of Ferelden let out open guffaws at the attack on their ancestral enemy.

"But I think my lady tires of this talk." I said, "Perhaps we shall see you at the tilts, Enchanter."

"Knight." Vivienne's murmur of my title was deadly quiet, promising that she wasn't going to forget tonight anytime soon. "Baroness. Another time."

Elowen and I inclined our heads, Vivienne offering a slight curtsy. She didn't leave however, forcing us to be the ones to back away first, Trevalyan quickly following us as I led a retreat back towards the Guild's corner.

"Wait." I murmured to Elowen, "Until we're back by Varric."

She nodded, though she threw Vivienne a final scowl when the Enchanter finally drifted off, already engaging a woman in a poof green ensemble in conversation.

We slipped along the wall without anyone intercepting us, eventually making it back to the relative safety of the assembled Deshyrs. I kept moving until we were nearly in the very back corner of the Keep, well enough removed from everyone else to be safe from further ambushes. Verbal or otherwise.

Elowen had snatched a mug of ale on the way, and took an enormous gulp. "That was the shem bitch that Meredith has the servants following, right?"

"Yeah." I crossed my arms, hating how badly I wanted a mug or glass of my own right now. "I'm guessing she noticed she was being stalked, and wanted to put us in our place. That or whoever told her about us also knew I'm the one who gave Meredith the idea to stop her from finding lodgings in the city."

She scowled a bit more, "This damned night. Not even a bell and it's been a disaster."

I winced, glancing between her and Trevelyan. "Was it that bad by the Templars?"

The young girl winced. "Um, the mages... weren't very happy to see them. Especially the First Enchanter. The other Templars were though! Happy, I mean."

"True." Elowen allowed, "But they're the only ones here fine with us being dressed up. I had two men try to give me their glasses like I was a servant when I walked past, and the shem-mage stepped in when another grabbed my ear."

That certainly explained her anger.

"The Deshyr's don't care. They like us if only because we set a precedent, and gave them a chance to buy out a lot of the landowners around the Alienage." I noted.

The woman who'd taken the title meant for me didn't look reassured. "I suppose, but their approval costs coin and favors. Ugh. How long are we trapped here for?"

I glanced at Trevelyan, "Evelyn? What's protocol for leaving early at an event like this?"

"Um... well, it would be very insulting to leave before the Viscount." The girl supplied. "At least without his permission."

"Then we get his permission." Elowen said firmly. "Trevelyan? Can you get the men and bring them over? We'll move as a group from now on, or do you think leaving is a bad idea Maeve?"

"After that? I'm partied out." I shook my head. "We should talk to Varric as well though. It would probably be safer to take his coach to his estate and stay there for the night."

She nodded, "Fine. Let's get this over with then."

"I'll be right back." Trevelyan promised, darting off into the crowd, leaving Elowen and I to head off to find Varric.

And hopefully wrap up this evening early.