"I'm just saying, Buzz." Varric settled back in his chair, watching three of the final four duelists warming up. "Merrill said you and Hawke looked real cozy in front of the fireplace together. You sure there isn't something you want to tell us?"

"By us," Isabella leaned in on my other side, "He mostly means me. Is there something you want to tell me, sweet thing?"

I sighed, wishing I was surprised at the subject. "Only that we spent an hour or two complaining about our families while we drank one of Varric's expensive bottles from Antiva. And no, I was not the one to steal it this time. That was all on Hawke, she was good way into it before I even arrived."

He grunted, "Not sure why I bother with locks in that damned estate. It was bad enough with just you and Rivaini around, but Hawke's worse than either of you. Been here for a week and I'm pretty sure she already knows more about what Bartrand hid away in the place than I do."

"She's an artist." Isabella agreed, nudging me with an elbow. "But you know what I meant, sweet thing. Did you get naked?"

"No." I groaned. "I'm still unspoiled as far as Thedas is concerned."

"Good. I'm not about to lose those bets, especially not to Hawke."

That earned a quiet snort out of me, "You're going to lose to Zatris eventually. He's the sane one who believes me when I say I'm not getting involved with anyone until I get back home."

Isabella's patted my thigh. "I'm perfectly confident I can change your mind on something skin-deep before that happens, sweet thing."

"Yeah, I was confident about that once too." I mumbled, turning a little as my last opponent finally arrived. Barthet was limping a little, but looked steady and confident when she walked out to join the others. "I won't say that was my worst relationship, but... hm. No, no. It probably was my worst one come to think of it."

She sobered up slightly, reaching up to help pull my mane out of my face and behind one of my long ears. "That bad?"

I shrugged, "Bad break up with my first boyfriend led me to my best friend's bed. She thought it was a friends with benefits kind of thing until we found nicer men. I... brought feelings into it, and she told me she wasn't interested in the slightest. I had a real meltdown, and my follow-up rebound saw me having the same problem."

"Ah." Isabella sighed, pulling her hand back. "I remember now. You told me that you make strings."

"I did?" I asked. "I don't remember that, to be honest."

"Pretty sure. " A finger tapped her chin, "We were probably drunk during one of Varric's card nights. That sounds right."

I could only shrug. I'd been drunk far more often in Thedas than I ever had back on Earth. I blamed both a family history of it, and the fact that I'd spent far too many months extremely poor here. Ale had been far safer than water, and there really weren't all that many other options besides cheap wine when it came to drinks. Not when you were either living on the run, or in the Alienage.

Sure, these days I could afford it, and I'd helped make those filters in the Alienage, but... drinking ale and wine had become a habit that had led to drinking too much liquor. I really wasn't doing well in that regard, and the constant emotional impacts of life in Kirkwall didn't help either.

Knowing my coping mechanism was unhealthy as hell was one thing, but doing anything about it was turning out to be a problem.

Varric cleared his throat, "Speaking of-"

"Yes, I'm turning into an alcoholic." I interrupted him with a sigh. "I know."

"Do you?" He asked quietly, the three of watching the referee walk out, checking over the grounds. Evidently they didn't want a repeat of what had happened to Barthet during our match; he started using his boots to stomp down every rock he could find. While the duelists themselves warmed up in the corners.

"You're getting worse instead of better." Varric went on. "Maker knows you've got plenty of reasons. Between being torn from your home, the crap that happened to you on the road, then the crap that's happened to you here, I kind of expect you to have a few problems... but you're kind of going past that line, Buzz."

"I know." I said.

My tone was flat enough that he grimaced, but kept going, "Look, not saying you can't drink. Maker knows Rivaini and I put down as much as you do, but you're a bitty little thing at the best of times. We don't want to see you turn out like those men that look three decades older. The ones that spend every copper they've got on cheap swill from dusk till dawn."

"Merrill wouldn't let that happen." I paused, sighed, and added more quietly. "She really lost her temper with me yesterday. Lost it with Hawke too. She's been getting on me about how much I drink for a while now, but yesterday was apparently the last straw."

Isabella glanced at me, "How'd Hawke take being yelled at by the little kitten?"

"I don't think I've ever seen a woman that tall cower quite like that before." The memory made me smile for a brief moment, then the expression faded. "Merrill was serious though. I'm pretty sure she's giving away all of my wine to members of the Watch right now. I think that's why she didn't come with to watch today."

Varric grimaced. "Ouch."

"Yeah." It was my turn to give Isabella a look, "I know that you were the one who gave her that idea."

The pirate held both her hands up in mock surrender. "I had to give her something when you just started drinking Varric's hidden stock instead of the wine we watered down for you. She had that horribly depressed look on her face, you know I can't resist it. Besides, it's probably overdue to happen considering your..."

She trailed off, a rare guilty look crossing her face.

I felt a low pulse of anger, "Hawke told you about my family?"

"...she told Varric and I, yeah. it was after you vanished to wherever you dragged your squire after sunset. Hawke does like you." Isabella said at once. "Says you've grown on her. She felt terrible for bringing it up the way she did, and for letting you get three sheets to the wind before lunch. She just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything else she should avoid mentioning."

My jaw clenched all the same, eyes turning back to the arena in time to see Meredith, Alistair, and Dumar all arriving at the main stage. Hawke was with the king's party, Alistair had apparently begged her not to leave him alone with the other VIP's for once. Cousland was with them as well, though I noted that the King was staying between the two women at all times.

The trumpet call had everyone standing until they'd seated themselves, then we settled back down as the crier started going on about everyone who got to sit up there, then going on about honor and glory and all that crap.

I glowered at Hawke from a distance, leaning in to whisper to Isabella. "It wasn't her place to tell you that story."

"You never told us." She whispered in reply. "I'd have tried harder to stop you from indulging so much if I'd known everyone in your family is trying to drink themselves to death too."

"You never asked." I hissed back, "Only Merrill did, and Merrill doesn't share that kind of thing without permission."

"Fine, fine. I'll talk to Hawke about sharing in the future." She murmured. "I do want to point out that you're not exactly the kind to pry into people's lives either."

I snorted, leaning back once again. "Yes I am. The only reason I don't seem to is because I already know everyone's history apart from yours, even Anders finally told me about his. I'd have asked you but we both know you'd just lie about it."

"So does Varric." She countered.

"Yeah, but everyone in the city already knows his life's story, so his lies are just for fun and everyone knows it."

"She's got you there, Rivaini." Varric noted. "The last time Blondie tried to ask where you got your ship from you told him his eyes would look lovely on a necklace. Not exactly welcoming people to ask about anything besides your adventures on the high seas, and everyone knows most of those tales are bullshit."

"Fun bullshit." I agreed, "but still bullshit."

Isabella grumbled something under her breath, but I patted her knee all the same. "You're still the sexiest woman alive, and my very good friend. I don't need to know whatever awful details led you to a career in piracy to like having you around. Just don't go talking to other people about my past behind my back again, all right? Ask me up front next time, like you do about my sex life."

She gave me a look that was somewhere between gratitude that I wasn't asking about her own past, and wariness for the same reason, but any further conversation had to wait as the first of three duels began.

It wasn't a terribly long one, even by the rapid-fire nature of these duels. A man and woman, both from Antiva, went at each other from the opening mark without hesitation. The fight couldn't have lasted more than a minute before the man scored his third cut, winning three points to two. That apparently wasn't enough for either of them, and the referee had to physically shove them both back when they tried to go at it again.

"Bad blood there." Varric confided, shaking his head amid muted applause in the aftermath. The rest of the crowd apparently sharing our indifferent opinion of what we'd just seen.

"Same last name." I noted. "Inheritance fight?"

He nodded, "I think they're second and third in line to some merchant house, and she's not happy about being third."

I hummed, watching as two Guards had to come out and restrain the woman, pulling her back while her apparent brother strutted around, earning just a few cheers from the nobles from Antiva and Rivain. "Nothing like fratricide to bright up a morning. Speaking of families, pasts, and fratricide, any leads on your wonderful brother?"

"Still nothing." Varric sighed. "Got a rumor out of Nevarra that came out to nothing when I asked an old friend to check, but I've got people who owe me favors in every March keeping an eye out for him. He'll have to show up in one of them at some point."

"True. Any chance he found a ship?" I asked.

Isabella shook her head at once, "Not outside of a port. Not on this coastline. He either walked, or he snuck into Kirkwall to buy passage."

"And Bartrand isn't one for sneaking. Or buying anything." I noted. "Could he be trying to make for Orzammar?

Varric rubbed at his broad chin, considering. "Maybe. I've thought about it, but I don't see how he'd manage it. He'd have to take a ship or the long way around the sea to even get close, and it's not like they'd let him in once he got there."

"Point." I admitted. "Let me know if you do hear anything."

"I remember." A heavy hand patted my arm, "You're new friend is up."

I was already leaning forward, watching with interest as the Lady Barthet strode out to meet her semi-final opponent; a lean, whip-cord of a man from Tevinter. Just as she had with me, she strode up, offering a hand, and to my vague surprise the 'Vint took it. Bowed over it and kissed her knuckles even. Huh. Interesting.

At the referee's signal they back offed with a few more murmured words to each other, swords coming to guard positions.

It was amazing how fast the damned fights were when you weren't participating. The pair of them flew at one another the second the spear was raised, blades glistening in the early morning sun.

Barthet was better technically, but her leg was clearly not fully recovered even with magical assistance. She scored her first two touches quickly, but then the 'Vint caught his balance and counter-attacked, forcing her to keep her weight on that leg. He caught her on the ribs, then the sternum, and seemed poised for a winning third when she stumbled.

"Ha!" I shouted the word when she nimbly spun away from his lunge, whipping her sword across his back. "Baited him!"

General applause rang out, heaviest from the Ferelden sections, and I brought my own hands together as loudly as I could.

"That was clever." Varric said as the cheering died out, the referee calling that there would a half hour break before the final to give both fighters a chance to rest. "But she's still limping out there."

I nodded, watching her salute Alistair before trudging out of the arena. "Yeah. Shame we couldn't have Anders here to take care of that for her yesterday. Whatever mage they had for healing must be a cheap hack."

He snorted, "It's the dueling tourney, Buzz. All the good healers work the tilts, or are being saved for the melee tomorrow. Those are always a real mess."

I was about to reply when a rustle behind us had me turn around to see Fiolya poking her head into the booth. The teenager's expression was annoyed, looking more so thanks to the deep circles under her eyes. "Lady. There's a pair of Wardens that wants to talk with you."

"Not really interested in talking to a Warden." I told her.

"That's what I said." She groaned, "They're insisting, and they want to talk to you alone."

Varric turned as well, "Not a chance. They want to talk to her? They can do it in front of us, but she's not going anywhere alone. Not after what Smith tired to pull when he got her off by herself. One of them can come in, but that's it."

My squire nodded, ducking back. I heard her say something, a deep masculine voice answering her, followed up by her saying something far more hot. I was half ready to get up in case a brawl started when the flap jerked open again to reveal Warden Velanna, the Dalish scowling over her shoulder at a Dwarven man wearing a dark gray cloak.

"Enough, Brosca." She snapped. "They're not going to assassinate a Warden in the middle of a duel. Go tell the Commander that I'm handling it."

I had the briefest glimpse of a wild black beard below dark eyes, his voice gruff. "You'd better."

The Dalish Warden hissed something in Elvish that sounded impolite, and I made yet another note to have Merrill teach me as much of the language as she could once we had an apartment to ourselves again. At least enough for me to understand the nuance of the swearing.

"Maeve." Velanna greeted me rather politely, even if she didn't bother with the titles.

"Velanna." I replied, doing the same. "Do we really have to talk, or can we skip to the part where I tell Cousland to fuck off, and the two of us can go about our days less annoyed than we're about to be?"

She didn't look amused. "I wouldn't be here if this could be resolved so simply. While I may not, the Commander believes absolutely in the shem's visions of what is to come, and what has passed. If you act against what they believe needs to happen to safeguard the world then there are going to be problems."

I glared at her for several long seconds before speaking. "Isabella? Move over so she can sit down. This is going to be a long conversation."

"I'll do her one better." Isabella replied, standing and motioning for the other elf to take her place. "Sit, and know I'm going to be right behind you with a knife in my hands the entire time."

"You're... the pirate?" Velanna asked, looking her up and down. "Isabella, was it? I was told of you."

Isabella narrowed her eyes. "Your point?"

"I don't care for shems threatening me." She replied. "Get out."

"Or what?" Said pirate purred, her fighting-smirk appearing, a hand caressing her knife. "Going to attack me in the middle of the duel?"

Velanna's next words came with a sneer, "Smith told us about what you did on the Venefication Sea. Does your companion know that disgusting tale?"

My friend locked up, eyes widening. I had no idea what the reference was, but it couldn't be a good one from the way she went still. The way she sent a terrified glance my way, met my baffled stare for a brief second, then jerked her eyes back to the Warden.

"Out." Velanna repeated, thumping her staff once on the wooden deck. "Or we discuss that instead."

Varric narrowed his eyes, pushing himself to his feet before Isabella could react. His thick arms crossed his chest as he glowered at Vellana, his voice low. "We don't like our friends being threatened here either, Warden. How about you sit down, stop throwing out insults, or else we skip to the part where you leave."

"... fine, but only so long as the shem keeps her mouth shut." Velanna said, pulling on her magic. I tensed before realizing that the turquoise sparks were merely swirling around her into a subtle barrier. I felt the cool touch of grass under my fingers, the smell of fresh pine filling my nose... and heard the quiet rock and roll that gave away a Warden to my enormous ears.

She walked past without another word, taking Isabella's seat. Apparently feeling the need to surround her, Varric stepped past me to lean on the railing just between my seat and Vellana's. I watched him move, gave Isabella another worried look as she visibly worked to calm herself down, then turned back when Varric opened our interrogation.

"All right." He said, voice hard. "You're going to need to explain just what you mean by visions, and why you Wardens seem obsessed with Buzz here. It's getting old and you haven't even been here a week."

"I am hardly obsessed. That is entirely Smith and Cousland, and they have not explained why she is so important." Velanna shrugged. "All I was told was that they believe her to be critical to managing the situation in Kirkwall moving forward."

He frowned. "And Smith's the one with these visions?"

"Supposedly."

"And he sees her in them?" He asked.

Another shrug from the Dalish. "I don't know if all of this is because he's seen her, or if it's because he can't see her at all. Hawke banished him before he could be clear on the matter."

That drew a quiet snort from him, "Immune to even a seer's sight? Definitely adding that to your list of accomplishments."

"He's not a seer." I countered, "Just an asshole."

Another shrug from Velanna, "As I said, I don't particularly believe him either. He seems a typical shem to me, but the Commander puts great value in what he claims to see. She has an offer for you as a result."

I felt my eyebrows go up. "An offer? Here I thought she'd be trying to give me orders like he was."

"That would be Brosca." She replied, voice a bit dry. "The Commander believes in offering everyone a choice first."

"You had to ruin it by adding 'first' at the end." My scowl returned. "What's her request then?"

Velanna settled back into her seat. "That you assist the Wardens regarding the Qunari's presence within this city. If you do that, she will overlook everything else and remain aloof from affairs in Kirkwall after this Tourney. She further offers equivalent exchange of information between yourself and her, with no input from Smith, and will ensure he does not bother you again. She will even go so far as to ensure no other Warden branches interfere with any plans you have, will not attempt to force Anders to return to the fold, and will offer you refuge at the Warden fortress in Ferelden if you ever have need of it."

Huh. Wow. That was... not a bad deal at all really. It was, in fact, a really good deal. Cousland was offering me more than an olive branch; she was offering me exactly what I'd been hoping to get out of Greg's presence here. An exchange of information, a working agreement on future canon, and she was even tossing in the Wardens castle down there as an emergency shelter. I wasn't sure I trusted the last, but still. The first two would be a massive help. It would give me another contact to pull information about the Fifth Blight. Help me put together all of the little details for events that the others hadn't been present for, or hadn't wanted to be involved in. Keeping the Wardens out of Kirkwall so long as I was in it, and keeping Greg away from me as well, seemed like a nice set of wins as well.

And her promising to leave Anders be was a nice cherry on top.

It was everything I'd been hoping for, without even having to deal with Greg, or her, in person.

There was just one Titanic sized problem: I'd have to give the book to the Arishok rather than Isabella, which I never did in game, and would especially never do in real life. Doing that would destroy our friendship permanently, just like it would destroy my relationship with Petrice when she found out that I'd had a priceless Qunari tome and simply given it back to them. Even if I'd wanted to, even if I hadn't been dead-set against doing anything to help the Qunari, it would have been extremely hard for me to go through with that kind of deal without causing far more problems than Cousland's help could solve.

"No." I said firmly. "I'm not helping the Qunari with anything."

The Warden narrowed her eyes, "It is the only offer she will make. Are you certain to reject it? Refusal could mean your conscription."

"I don't recognize her right to conscript me." I said, voice lowering. "I never signed any treaty with her order, nor did my homeland. She has no right."

She huffed, "She said you would claim that. You accepted a shem title in the Marches, that is enough as far as the old treaties are concerned."

"I accepted jack and shit." I spat. "Meredith gave it to me despite my very clear wishes to not be given any kind of title. Cousland can shove her threats up her uptight ass."

It was her turn to lower her voice. "I will tell her you said as much."

"Good. If that's everything, then-"

She interrupted me. "It is not. Commander Cousland's orders for you are as follows. First, you will find what brought the Arishok here and return it to him. Second, you will assist in placing the correct Guard Captain in power. Third, you will order the return of the deserter Anders to Ferelden. Fourth, you will provide reports all future events of note within the city to the Warden-Commander, and you shall do so promptly."

Varric was shaking his head before she got to three. "...Maker's balls, and here I thought my brother was the most arrogant man I'd ever met. No wonder you and Hawke can't stand this lot."

"I know right?" I snorted, turning a little so that I could sit sideways. The better to look her in the eye when I enunciated why I'd be doing exactly none of what Smith and Cousland apparently wanted me to do.

"First of all," I began, holding up one finger. The middle one, to make my opinion clear, and going out of order just to annoy her further. "Anders is not my subordinate, slave, or pet. I don't order him to do anything, nor will I order anyone else to assist in abducting him for you. Your precious Commander already forced him to join her Order until false pretenses, lying to him just for kicks when she could have just conscripted him. If he doesn't want to go back, I entirely applaud his decision, and I'll support his efforts to remain a free man."

Velanna scowled. "That-"

I interrupted her to repay that insult as well, "Second of all, I'm not going to be Cousland or Greg's little spy in Kirkwall. We both know he just wants someone here to help fake visions about what's going on, and I'm not going to have any part of that either. Cousland can get her information the old fashioned way."

More scowling, but she'd taken the hint and kept her mouth shut.

"Third of all," I went on, starting to enjoy myself. "If Cousland thinks that I'm going to help the Arishok do anything besides commit suicide, she clearly has no idea what the hell is actually going on in this city. No one wants to deal with the Qunari, and I am very much included in that no one. They can find whatever they're looking for on their own."

She hit about an eight-point-oh on the Petrice scowl meter.

"And finally, the Guard Captain is a very good friend of mine, who I encouraged to take the job she now holds, so why the actual fuck would I want to replace her?" I asked, making sure not to sound like I knew what they were talking about. "She's doing a much better job than either of her predecessors, and a far better one than any of the options who could take that post. I don't know and don't care who they want in her place, so fuck the hell off with that too."

Velanna waited a few seconds, then asked icily, "Is that all?"

I tapped my chin in mock thought. "That about sums it up, yeah."

"The Commander asked of you when she spoke with those in power in this city. She expected you would refuse both her orders and mock her threat of conscription." Velanna said. "In such a case, I was told to tell you the following. You will follow the Golden Route, or there will be consequences. Deliver the Tome to the Arishok forthwith."

My eyes narrowed to slits. What the hell was she thinking, just blurting out what the Qunari were here for?

"Tome?" I asked, a hard edge to my voice. "What Tome?"

Her staff thumped the ground beside her chair. "Do not play dumb, flat-ear. Find it, return it, and the Warden-Commander will allow you a pass on the remainder of her orders, along with peace between your plans and hers. If you do not... as I said. She promises consequences."

Isabella stepped closer, glaring down at her as she found her voice again, steel glinting in both hands as her daggers appeared. "I think that's enough from you."

"Agreed." Varric added, his voice hard as steel. "I think it's time for you to leave, and tell the Warden Commander she's worn out her welcome in our city. I'll make sure everyone knows that by the time the sun sets."

Velanna shrugged, already pushing herself to her feet. "You will have no argument from me. I'd have rather not come to this infested city at all, nor deal with flat-ears pretending to be shems. I will carry your messages back to her. Oh? Flat-ear? Smith offered one question before he was forced to leave."

"Not interested." I said, already turning away from her.

Her boots and staff struck the wood as she walked past, her voice carrying over my chair. "If you'd woken up in Ferelden, would you have done things any differently?"

I wouldn't have been in any place to. If he'd been beaten half to death on his arrival, just for stumbling too close to Castle Cousland, a confused as fuck Elven woman would have had far worse done to her.

"Fuck off." I growled, looking back one last time to make sure she saw my glare.

The Dalish woman rolled her eyes, ducking out of the tent without another word. Isabella followed just long enough to whisper something to Fiolya, then padded back inside. She and Varric sat down in their chairs while I put my own scowling face on, glaring furiously out at the dueling arena.

Varric started to ask something, only for Isabella to shush him. Giving me a few minutes to silently fume until Fiolya arrived with some of the most watered down wine I think I'd ever tasted.

Whatever. It still had flavor, so I drank half of it down in heavy gulps before passing it back to her. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, my lady. Should I-"

"Stay, kid." Varric said, "You're going to be in trouble with the rest of us, best to be informed."

"...yes, messere." Fiolya mumbled, awkwardly standing near my seat. "Um... what was that about?"

I grunted, "Nothing good. Give Isabella the flask, the one Hawke gave me. She looks like she needs it."

Fiolya did, quickly pulling the silver canister out and handing it over. The still-rattled looking Isabella promptly took an overly long swig, slumping back far more than she usually did. "Maker's breath. What is going on, Maeve?"

"Nothing good." I repeated darkly. "They're up to something, and apparently I'm supposed to play along. Or else."

"No shit." Her mouth set into a scowl, another quick swig of the liquor going down before she asked, "What was that about a tome?"

I noted that she didn't quite look our way when she said it, and I quickly looked away as I lied right back at her. "Smith says it's what the Qunari are really after, why they're still in the city and no going anywhere. I'm supposed to use my connections in the city to find it soonest, and give it to the Arishok and no one else. Guessing he figured he and his Warden puppets couldn't stay long enough to get the job done themselves."

She glanced my way, frowning a little, but seemed to accept it. Fiolya shifted her weight, then went still when I gave her a flat look, head bobbing as she kept her mouth shut.

Varric missed our exchange, too busy frowning out at the dueling grounds, drumming his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "And he just, what, came out and ordered you do to do that? Told you why the Arishok is, allegedly, really here?"

"...shems." The teenage mutter made the others turn to look at Fiolya, the girl coloring. "Well it's what they're like with Elves. They just tell us what to do, and expect us to do it. Not talk back or ask questions, not to share their secrets."

"Girl's got a point." Isabella noted, making a fist with one hand and resting her cheek on it, looking exactly as worn out as I felt. Whatever had happened on that sea must have been terrible if she was that rattled by even the mention of it. She went on, mumbling tiredly. "Hawke's certain that Smith's fucking Cousland behind her sister's back, and everyone in Ferelden knows that Cousland's got no use for Elves. He probably shares that opinion. That or he's a Viddathari... could explain a lot too."

I could only shrug, and mix truth with lies as I always did. As I ignored the writhing of my guilty soul, as I always did as well. "No idea. Maybe he's a convert, maybe he's not. Maybe my ears are why he thought I'd be an easy agent, maybe not. Doesn't really matter. It's the Wardens and their threats that are a problem now."

"True." She closed her eyes, exhaling. "We should hide you away until they're gone. You and Anders both. Stash you in Fenris' estate maybe?"

Varric huffed. "Broody only comes out to help the kid, not because he ever forgave Buzz or Daisy. I think Blondie should be safe with Scowls for now... hmm. How about this. Brennan's supposed to make it to our dinner tonight, maybe you can crash at her place for the rest of the tourney."

Not a bad idea really. I hadn't expected a demand to put Aveline in power at all, but it left me a little worried about Brennan. Staying with her would let me keep her safe, and hopefully let me lay low for a little while. "I'll ask her tonight."

Our conversation died off there, the Dueling Finals starting up. I tried to get settled, gave up, got up, and pulled my chair closer to Isabella's. That way I could rest my head on her shoulder when I sat back down. She seemed to stiffen, then relax, sliding an arm around me.

"I won't ask." I whispered, watching as the duelists returned to the field.

"...thanks." I felt her give my bare scalp a soft kiss, then her head came to rest on mine. "You're a good friend, sweet thing."

"You're a better one."

That momentary stiffness came and went again, but she said nothing else when the pomp and ceremony got started. Dumar rose, giving another of his quick speeches with the usual references to Andraste, the honor of the competitors, glory to the Free Marches, and so on and so forth.

I tuned him out in favor of watching Lady Barthet warm up, doing extra work to get her right leg loose.

She and her Antivan opponent approached at the call, their squires belting out their titles, though each one now added 'Grand Tourney Finalist' to their accolades. The referee went through his usual routine of checking their weapons, nodded to both, and then Barthet offered to shake his hand as she always did.

I joined the chorus of boos when the Antivan refused to step forward, instead simply bringing his blade up.

Barthet shrugged, stepped back, and settled in to her own stance.

The Antivan lunged at her wounded knee the moment the spear rose, clearly aiming to incapacitate her right out of the gate even if such a blow would earn him no points. It probably would have worked on me, I'd never quite managed to get out of the fencing mindset, but Berthet was a different story.

She did a nimble little sway, body going parallel to his thrust, and slammed the guard of her sword into his nose. He recoiled, taking a sharp cut to his chest in the process, and his flailing defense missed her follow-up that scored a second strike across his stomach.

Apparently not in the mood to draw this out, Barthet proceed to simply grab onto his sword when he managed a parry-riposte, holding it tightly with her off hand and stabbing with the other.

The whole thing had taken a dozen seconds. Twenty at most.

"Champion! Lady Juelina Barthet of-" the Referee stopped yelling, stepped in, and rammed the side of his spear against the Antivan's head when the man yanked his sword back, then tried to thrust it at Barthet's throat.

When he reeled back, the ref brought his weapon up into an overhead strike that broke the spear over the man's skull.

He fell and did not get up.

"-Lady Juelina Barthet of Ferelden, victor of the Dueling Tournament of the Grand Tourney!" He finished, as if nothing of interest had just occurred. "Hail the Champion!"

"Hail!" I added my voice to the chorus, watching as two of Allistair's guards ran out, joining Barhtet's squire and a mage in rushing her. A few distant sparks of magic later and they were hauling her up onto their shoulders, her off-hand now free of blood.

They promptly began parading her around, clearly thrilled that their countrywoman had won, and not caring at all about the mages coming out to pull her opponent off the field. I couldn't tell if he was alive or dead... and for a brief moment, I remembered that I shouldn't have been cheering. That I was celebrating a sanitized blood sport, had participated in one.

"Damn I'm tired." I muttered before quickly putting on my best smile, waving at Barthet when her victory lap brought her past.

She saw me, brightening up and pointing at me with a grin, then a wave of her own. I kept up the waving until she was gone, heading for the royal booth.

"Me as well." Isabella sighed, "Do we really have to talk about the rest of it now?"

"I don't want to." I admitted. "Varric?"

He rose from his seat, stretching out his arms. "No, I think we need more heads on this one. How about we push it off until later, when everyone's together. I'm sure Hawke will have a better idea of what they might be up to, what they might try to do, and Brennan will know what legal crap they might throw at us."

Isabella groaned, "Good. I need a drink and a rest. You're coming with me for both, sweet thing."

I sighed, "Wish I could. Meredith's inspecting the Night's Watch as soon as she's done with the award ceremony, remember? Fiolya and I have to get down there soonest to get ready."

That drew out a longer groan, "Oh fine, but you're coming to my suite at the bar as soon as that's done with, and send Merrill on ahead so the Templars don't see her."

"So long as you're dressed when we get there." I said, slowly extracting myself from her grip. Standing up, I took a tired step over to the railing, watching as Barthet was brought up before the main stage to be given her rewards and accolades...

...and I found Cousland staring at me, Velanna whispering into her ear, Brosca nowhere to be seen.

"...let's get out of here." I told Fiolya, "This tourney can't be over fast enough."

A few goodbyes later we were off, heading home for another of Meredith's fun little inspections, to be followed by one of Varric's grand feasts for all of his friends at our favorite dive.