Just FYI, this is not back on any sort of regular schedule, but I am going to try to start moving it along again. I promise it will get finished! I've never left a story unfinished before and I'm not going to start now. Thank you for sticking with me!

Celene watched her cousin being dragged away, her face impassive. Bridget's heart went out to the Empress, who surely must be hurt by Florianne's betrayal.

Then the Empress turned her attention to Bridget. "Perhaps you will join us for the talks, Inquisitor."

"It would be my honor."

They walked together out onto the balcony where Gaspard and Briala were awaiting them, deep in a heated squabble about Florianne and her motivations.

"I knew nothing of Florianne's plans!" Gaspard was insisting. He gestured at Briala. "But you—you must have known all of it, and yet you did nothing."

Briala gazed at him coolly. "I don't know which is more amusing—that you are trying to pretend innocence so vehemently, or that you believe I am all-seeing."

"Enough!"

They turned toward Celene, both looking fairly sheepish.

"We will not bicker while Tevinter plots against our nation," Celene told them sharply. "For the safety of the Empire, I will have answers."

"Florianne appeared to have acted alone," Bridget said, before either of the others could speak. "She was seduced by Corypheus's promises—he told her she could have all of Thedas to rule."

All three of the Orlesians expressed a certain amount of scorn at that, and Bridget kept her face impassive to avoid seeming to criticize Florianne herself. She was still kin to Gaspard and Celene, after all.

"So Gaspard and Briala were innocent?"

Bridget took a deep breath, wishing very much not to be involved in all of this. She rather liked both Gaspard and Briala. But, after all, part of why she was here was to help end the civil war in Orlais, and that meant denouncing Gaspard. There was no other way that she could see to get him to back down. And if, in the process, she could improve relations between Celene and Briala, that would be better for the Orlesian elves, and that was a good thing across the board. No, there was nothing for it. "Briala assisted me in determining Florianne's plot. Gaspard … Gaspard was attempting a coup. He had it planned for tonight."

Briala's eyes widened in surprise, briefly, and then she nodded a grave thanks.

Gaspard blustered and complained, but ultimately, couldn't pretend that Bridget's information was wrong. Celene studied him with disappointment, but little surprise. "We have no choice but to declare you an enemy of the Empire, Gaspard. You are hereby sentenced to death."

Bridget drew in a swift breath. Perhaps she should have been prepared for the finality of the sentence, perhaps had she more political savvy she would have known was was coming, but she had not expected that Celene would put Gaspard to death.

Her breath must have been audible, because Celene turned to look at her inquiringly.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but is it necessary to take his life? You have enough proof of his activities to dissolve his support for the throne."

Celene looked at her even more closely, studying her face. Bridget knew she had overstepped, and she held her breath, waiting.

"As a favor to you, Inquisitor," Celene said at last, "I will let him live."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Bridget knew Josephine, and probably Leliana, too, would be furious at her for squandering a favor on Gaspard's life—and Gaspard himself looked none too pleased with her. But she couldn't stand by and let him be killed.

Celene nodded at her, then turned to Gaspard. "You are hereby banished from the Empire on pain of death."

"Is that all?" he said sourly. "You are too kind, Celene."

She ignored him, gesturing to her guards, who came forward and led him away. He went unprotesting, his head held high, his bearing as correct and military as it had been at the beginning of the night.

When he was gone, Celene said, "Thank you, Inquisitor. For all your efforts tonight. I owe you my life. And Orlais owes you its future."

"I am glad I could help, Your Majesty."

Bridget noticed that Briala was gone; no doubt she and Celene would come to some understanding privately. Whether that was a personal understanding or merely one between the Empress of Orlais and the elves of the Empire Bridget didn't speculate. After all, it was really none of her business.

"Come," Celene said. "Walk with me."

They made their way back inside the building, toward the ballroom. "My friend, you have done a service for the Empire this night that will never be forgotten. The peace we have just brokered was your doing. Truly, you are the instrument of Andraste." Celene stopped and took one of Bridget's hands in hers. "Orlais will never forget your part in this. Nor will I."

The realities of the Game had been drummed into Bridget too thoroughly for her to take the Empress's protestations at face value. Still, it was a nice step forward.

They stood together at the top of the ballroom, looking down on the assembled guests, while Celene addressed the court. "The civil war which has plagued us is at an end! The Orlesian Empire is whole again! We have all lost enough. No more! Now we can move forward to healing and restoration." She gestured toward Bridget. "In our hour of need, the Inquisition has faced these dangers beside us. It is the honor of Orlais to stand with the Herald of Andraste to end this crisis."

There were gasps and whispers amongst the assemblage as they realized that Celene had just formally recognized a mage as the leader of the Inquisition.

"In ages to come," Celene continued, "our children and grandchildren can say that we left them a brighter world."

Bridget winced at the sudden and unexpected mention of children, thinking of Declan, and what it would mean if he were here and she could show him what his mother had done. But she covered it quickly as Celene turned to her and asked her to address the court.

Straightening, she looked out over the guests, drawing the moment out but not so long as to make it seem as though she didn't know what to say. "Ending the war was the first step. Our final goal must be peace for all Thedas."

That would please some and anger others, depending on where they made their money, she thought, hearing Leliana's voice in her head explaining the complexities.

Celene, at least, seemed to appreciate the sentiment. She inclined her head. "Well said, Inquisitor." Turning back to the crowd, she added, "We of the Court must use our resources. Not every battle is won on the field. But that is tomorrow. Tonight—feast, my friends! Enjoy our victory. There will be many more to come."

The crowd was too well-bred to cheer at the Empress's words, but the babble that rose after she finished speaking was subtly less controlled, louder, freer than it had been before.

Despite her relief at how things had ended this evening, Bridget was no longer in the mood for a party. Too tired, too ready to be done with all the politics and the posturing and go home. She excused herself and found a quiet balcony where she could stand and enjoy the night air and the brief solitude.

All too brief, as it turned out. She heard the clicking of heels on the flagstones and turned her head to see Morrigan standing next to her.

"You have left the Orlesian nobility making drunken toasts to your victory, Inquisitor. Are you not afraid they will find you ill-mannered and ungrateful? They will accuse you of being fickle, tiring so quickly of their congratulations."

Bridget smiled, recognizing that Morrigan was trying to needle her. "My advisors will accept the congratulations … and I'm certain those few who notice my absence will be relieved not to have to pretend to be comfortable with a mage in power."

"Indeed. A most intriguing outcome of the evening, and one few had anticipated. More had been looking forward to seeing Celene send you out on your ear."

"But not you."

"No, that would have accomplished nothing." Morrigan tilted her head, studying Bridget with curiosity. "I have news; I wonder how you will take it." When Bridget didn't respond, she went on, "By Imperial decree, I have been named liaison to the Inquisition."

Bridget was not entirely surprised. Morrigan had seemed too interested in the Inquisition to imagine this was the last they would see of her. "Was this your idea, or Celene's?"

"Celene's … officially. She knows you face an opponent who wields great magical power, and that you will require my knowledge if you are to defeat such magic. And as we all know, Corypheus is a threat to Thedas—and thus to myself. Therefore I am not opposed to the appointment."

There would be time enough back at Skyhold to examine what knowledge Morrigan possessed that would be so useful—after Bridget had had time to consult with Leliana on this turn of events. "Welcome to the Inquisition, then, Morrigan," she said.

Morrigan seemed surprised by the reply, but she covered it well. "A most gracious response. In that case, I shall see you at Skyhold."

She left the balcony, leaving Bridget alone again. This was a new twist, and one she should have seen coming. She wondered how it would affect the course of events going forward. Just what she'd needed, one more concern to carry home with her.

Blackwall had been at loose ends since the fight had ended. He didn't want to be drawn into any of the various conversations about the Inquisitor and her actions, laudatory or otherwise. He didn't want Josephine or Leliana to put him to work spying. He just wanted Bridget. To be in her arms, feeling her breath on his face, reminding himself that he was no longer the greedy wastrel he had once been.

But he knew that she needed time, and space, after an extremely difficult evening—even from him. So he waited near the balcony where she had taken refuge, keeping off almost everyone who tried to disturb her. Except for the Empress's pet apostate, whose cool presumption that she was an exception carried an indefinable threat that Blackwall had no doubt she would be more than willing to carry out if he got in her way.

At last she exited the balcony, nodding at Blackwall as she passed him. In thanks? In acknowledgement of his presence? He had no idea, and he didn't care. This jacket was itchy, this uniform was too tight, and he wanted to get the Void out of Orlais and forget that there ever had been such a man as Thom Rainier.

Even as he stepped onto the balcony, a tiny voice was whispering in the back of his head that he couldn't forget, that a man's life hung in the balance, but he hushed it. At least for now.

Bridget was leaning on the railing, looking up at the moon. He leaned next to her, closing his eyes as she automatically shifted nearer to him, pressing her shoulder against his.

"You know, there are dozens of young lords and ladies in there hoping for some time with the hero of the night," he told her, as if she didn't know.

She gave a weary sigh. "Haven't I done enough for the cause tonight?"

Blackwall put his arm around her shoulders. "That you have. More than anyone could have imagined could be accomplished in a single night … even at an Orlesian ball. You are extraordinary."

"I don't know about that."

"You work too hard. I wish—I wish I could take you away from it all, just for a little while, so you could rest." He imagined it, the two of them sneaking out of Halamshiral in the middle of the night, riding away into the darkness, finding a little place they could stay together. Just them, no Inquisition or advisors or anyone. Then he looked at the glove over her left hand that still couldn't quite hide the green glow of the mark, and knew that there would be no rest for her, not until Corypheus was dead. He had to stay with her, didn't he, until that happened? To keep her safe, to help her save Thedas. He had to, he thought, the words almost a plea to a Maker he didn't even know if he believed in, to let it be the truth.

From inside, he heard the strains of the music, a slower song than they had been playing since the Empress's speech, and he stepped back from the railing, holding out his hand to her. "May I have this dance, Lady Trevelyan?"

She smiled, taking his hand and coming into his arms. "With great pleasure, Warden Blackwall. As always."

Blackwall looked down into her face, so pale and delicate, such a contrast to himself. But she was the strong one, inside, where it counted. She would never have run like a coward. She would never leave someone else to die in her place.

And even as he gathered her closer, he knew with a bitter despair what he would have to do.