Under a bright sun that belied how cold it was, Ten made her way to the Orlesian quarter. This time, she was half bearing the unfortunate guardsman's weight, though he was little more than skin and bones at this point.

"It's that one," he said, "Red door. Stained glass above it."

Ten looked up at what was, though cramped between a printer's shop and a tavern, quite a large estate. Four stories, and each floor boasted pristine glass windows with fine brocade curtains.

A boy, maybe thirteen or fourteen, answered her knock. He was lighter in coloring than either of his older brothers, though his skin was tanned from the outside and he had the same marble-green eyes. As he squinted into the sunlight, though, the same line that graced his half brothers' faces worked its way between his brows.

"Yes?" he said, his eyes falling on Ten, and she braced herself for being told to fuck off, "How may I help you, Miss?"

"Is this Albertine Villais' home?" she asked.

The boy nodded, and then saw for the first time who was standing next to her and let loose a cry. "Anton!" he exclaimed, and rushed to him, "You're here! You're alive!"

"Alban," crooned Anton and embraced the boy, "Yes I'm here. I'm all right. Go fetch Maman, please."

"We thought the worst," the boy exclaimed, not letting him go, the telltale creak in his voice saying he was about to burst into tears, "Oh, thank the Maker!"

"I'm all right," he said again.

Madame Villais did not require fetching, she had heard the commotion and rushed to the door. Ten had a vague memory of her from seeing her stick her head out of his window all those weeks before, but she was still impressed with her appearance. She was quite possibly the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on. Somehow, even in her own home, in the middle of the day, she was done up like she was about to attend the finest ball in town, her dark hair piled atop her head, her face painted tastefully, and her dress laced up to about halfway up her ample bosom.

"Anton!" she exclaimed, "Maker's breath, both of you come in off the street this instant."

She ushered them in, and as Ten passed her, she got a noseful of very expensive perfume.

"What did they do to you, my boy?" she asked, seizing her son by his shoulders, taking in the blackened eyes, the livid burns, "My poor child."

Ten kept her eyes on the ground.

"I'm all right, Maman," said Anton, "I'll heal. Let me stay here a few days, get Airon to pack up my flat. I'll be leaving within the week."

Albertine nodded, ruefully, "I suppose it would be for the best. What will you do until then?"

"Hide, obviously," he said, "Stay away from the windows."

"Alban, call on Clothilde, tell her to come here and patch your brother up," said Madame Villais, "I will let you say your goodbyes. I will be in my parlor, through those glass doors there."

Alban, evidently the name of the teenage brother, took off.

"I don't suppose we'll be seeing each other again." said Anton, "I'm… sorry for my part in all this. It wasn't my intention to hurt you."

"I don't suppose I can criticize you for being underhanded," she said, "It's rather my middle name at this point."

"I hope you'll remember me fondly."

"Bit of a tall order at the moment, but I might get there one day," said Ten, "I hope you'll do the same for me."

"I definitely will," he said. He stooped, kissed her on the forehead, and turned to go upstairs.

She paused for a moment, let the wave of hurt break over her and abate. Teneira, you fucking idiot. You dupe. You stupid fucking slut. She turned and went through the glass doors into the parlor, where Madame Hirondelle was stood in the corner, pretending to examine one of the many bookshelves that lined the walls.

"Well, Madame," said Ten, "I've returned him to you. A little worse for wear, and I am sorry for that. But I must take my leave."

"You will do no such thing, Arlessa," Albertine said, "You will sit over there on the divan, and you and I are going to drink a glass of wine, and have a long overdue conversation."

"Little early for wine, isn't it?"

"It's never too early for wine," she said.

Ugh. Orlesians.

Sat on the very soft divan, sipping a fine cabernet, Ten found herself gawking at all the things. Little ornaments. Paintings on the walls. Madame Villais sat regally across a gilded coffee table in an armchair that would have put the thrones of lesser nations to shame. She sipped her wine daintily, and was fanning herself with a red silk folding fan.

"Where did you find him?" she asked, "What on earth ever happened? My poor child…"

"The guards learned his parentage," Ten said, "I don't know how, but they beat him and shut him up in the Alienage. And then… well there was some more unsavory business. That goes all the way to the top."

"What do you mean by 'the top'?" asked Madame Hirondelle.

"The palace." Ten said, "And its… current occupant."

"The 'regent,' yes," she said, "We are not terribly fond of him."

"Well he's not terribly fond of you either," said Ten, "Or me. Especially not me, though when he's done with the elves I can't imagine expatriates are that far behind. Especially those of your persuasion."

"What unsavory business was he up to with the elves?"

"Well," said Ten, and she laid the paperwork down on the coffee table, "You want to know who messed up your boy's pretty face? Right there."

She watched Madame Hirondelle's eyes dart over the ship's manifest, the documents authorizing the docking, "This is what he was looking into!"

Ten nodded, "I don't know what happened with the guard. I don't understand how they could have known, after all of these years. But once they did, it was only a matter of putting him where the Tevinters would take him, along with members of my own family."

"Yes I see that. Your father and cousin, yes? The charming young man with the russet hair?"

"Yes," said Ten, narrowing her eyes, wondering how she knew Soris.

"This cannot stand," she said.

"It cannot."

"Was this the… flaming ghost ship that sailed downriver last night?"

"The same," said Ten.

"I see," she observed, "And this Caladrius, what did you do with him?"

Ten glanced down at the bundle at the top of her pack, "Would you, perhaps, like to make a delivery? To the palace?"

"Of what?"

"Well, I have his head here," she said, "I was going to have one of my people take it, but it's yours if you would like it. Your son killed him, after all."

Madame Hirondelle snapped the fan shut, "You are far more ruthless than my dear Anton led me to believe."

"I am far more ruthless than I ever let him know," said Ten, "He's not like us, is he?"

"No," Madame Hirondelle said shortly, "He is not."

"You and I, I believe, are cut from the same cloth. And so, would you like to do the honors? A token of respect, from the Arlessa of the Alienage to her esteemed colleague, Madame Hirondelle? Un petit cadeau for the Teyrn of Gwaren?"

"Give it here," she said, "It will make a fine gift."

Ten carefully lifted the linen-wrapped head, and placed it on the table.

"Audin!" Madame cried.

"What do you need, Maman?" there was a shuffle in the back room and a young man in his late teens arrived at the door. He had jet black hair cropped close to his head and gazed at the two women through the same light green eyes above a regal hawk's beak of a nose.

"Please take that package there. Don't look inside. But I need you to wrap it further in something nice, perhaps that bolt of silk I keep upstairs, place it in a leather satchel, there is a spare in the sitting room on the third floor. Clip a black rose from the garden and put it on top. Then ask Réjean to have one of his couriers bring it to Elphège Brisson of the Palace Guard."

"Yes Maman," the boy said. He snapped to, picked up the package carefully, and went presumably to do his mother's bidding.

As soon as he had left, Albertine sighed and put her head in her hands, "I told Anton to leave well enough alone. No good comes from trying to be the hero. Especially with his… well, you know." She fingered one of her own ears, "But he was determined to figure out what was going on. Asked one too many questions. Set off one to many alarm bells among the guard. I imagine that got him the beating."

"I'm afraid his time in the guard is at an end," said Ten.

"I wish it had never begun," she said, putting one thumb in her mouth as though she were about to bite at the nail, but corrected herself, and went back to fanning, "The guard would have been one thing, but getting him sent to the Alienage... I should have known better."

"You probably should have," asked Ten, "What do you think I would have done to him if I had found out before he told me himself?"

"Was seducing him and turning him into a double agent not enough for you?"

"Is that what you think happened! He informed me that the seduction was your idea."

"Well," said Madam Hirondelle, "As to that. Perhaps he got you into bed, but you got him out of his damned mind." She snarled this last bit. Paused. Composed herself, "He was doing your bidding, not mine, most of the time. I imagine, while investigating the Tevinters, he was doing it because it is what he thought you would have wanted. To please you."

"That is not on my head," said Ten, "I arrived back in town not a week ago."

"I suppose I cannot blame you. I would have done the same in your shoes, if you had sent one of yours into my territory."

"Oh… you think I knew that he was yours!" she exclaimed, "Alas, I am not as observant as you give me credit for. I figured him for what he stated he was, a sergeant of the guard, able to do for me what others have in the past. That was all I ever asked of him. You really thought any of that was making a play against you?"

"I suppose I took it rather personally," she said, "He is my boy, after all. You mean to tell me you had no idea?"

"I genuinely did not. To me, he was another passing halfbreed playing with fire until this very morning, to my own chagrin. I am far too occupied with other things, and I always have been. I have never once had either the energy or the intention ever to do anything to you or your people. It appears that you think about me quite a bit more than I think about you."

Madame Hirondelle shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She was not used to being wrong.

"So I admit I am at a disadvantage here," Ten continued, "While you and I do not know each other personally, I have never considered you an enemy. So I really just do not understand why you felt the need to do any of that."

"Enemy!" Albertine exclaimed, snapping her fan shut, "Absurd! I have never been your enemy, ma petite. En fait, I see now that you and I have very much in common, and we may help each other in ways even you might not have predicted. I simply wished to know about the Alienage. After all, your little mice scurry into every fine house in this city, bringing you secrets I could only dream of."

"You could have sent a message. I would have met with you. Told you what you need to know. I'm not a thug like Boss Guilder or the Captain, I don't do this for coin or power or infamy, the only thing I truly care for is the safety and dignity of my people. I simply do not care what you do with or for your people, so long it's not at the expense of mine."

Albertine stared at her for a long moment before speaking, "At the end of the day, you have brought my favorite son back to me," she said, "And we have discovered a mutual hatred for this pretender to the throne. For that, you deserve my utmost respect and gratitude...and don't look at me like that, all parents have their favorites."

"I'm an only child," she said, "And I'm still not my father's favorite, so there's that."

"Anton's father was the only man I've ever truly loved," she sighed, "Poor man. I don't blame him for taking off for the Dales. I'm a dangerous woman to know."

"That makes two of us."

"Exactement!" Albertine declared, "So you understand that sometimes, in our efforts to secure the best outcome, those closest to us get hurt!"

Nelaros's dying face came before her. Shianni's smile, now and forevermore a little broken. Her father's show of bravery when he came to visit her on death row. At least Anton had survived both of the dangerous women in his life. So far, anyway.

"Better than you know," Ten said.

"And I apologize for my little game here," she said, "I sometimes forget that things are different here. You Fereldans are so… brash. So obvious. You're right, I should have come to you directly. And so, from now on, that is what I shall do. Though it pains my very soul."

"For now, you can find me at the estate of the Arl of Redcliffe. If I'm not there, you can get a message to one of my cousins, Shianni Alurani or Soris Tabris, they will pass it to me when they can. I am, as always, occupied with other things. The Arlessa has been… temporarily deposed, a story which I am sure you have heard."

"Deposed is such a vulgar word," Madame Villais said, "I was cheering for you, you know. I do quite admire you, I always have. And so, I know that you will do what is best for this nation. However it has treated you, you have done your duty admirably. I dare say the greatest strike against the Blight was taken when you were recruited from your cell."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence," said Ten, "Now, as to the little problem of Teyrn Loghain… I am going to call a Commoner's Council. Can I count on your voice in support of… nipping this little problem in the bud?"

"Why, what do you suggest?"

"I have heard that there is to be a Landsmeet. The day has not been set, but it will be before the winter is out and the banns return to their lands," said Ten, "There are, perhaps, fifty noble families in this nation, nearly all of whom keep residences here."

She saw a smile spread slowly over Madame Hirondelle's painted mouth as she saw what Ten was getting at. She continued, "At the last census, there were more than a hundred thousand plain old citizens of Denerim - and that doesn't count the hamlets outside the walls. If we count them, and the foreigners here who have not registered, that's maybe a quarter million torches and pitchforks, all within walking distance of those residences."

"And whom do you suggest take the throne instead? There's a legion of royal bastards, of course," said Madame Hirondelle, "I have one myself."

"You what?"

"Please," she said, "Surely you have heard the legends of Madame Hirondelle. Aurélien - he's between Anton and Audin – is Maric's. He wasn't a regular customer, but curiosity got the better of him after some years."

"Where is Aurélien now?"

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know," Madam Hirondelle scoffed, "He has been safely overseas since all the unpleasantness started, and that is all I will say."

"So you don't want it for him?"

"Of course not! Who would want that for someone they love? It's a disgusting job surrounded by disgusting people. No, let it go to the noble pigs who invented it, they like nothing more than rolling around in their own shit."

"Ironically," said Ten, "Our best bet may be the current queen, once she is found."

"What do you mean, 'once she is found'?"

"A crumb for you, from my little mice," said Ten, "As of yesterday morning, the queen is no longer in the palace, with no notice and no explanation."

"Winter is far too close for her to have removed to the countryside," said Madame Hirondelle.

"And someone would have seen a caravan of that size leaving the city," said Ten, "So we can surmise she remains in Denerim. Just… elsewhere."

"Why would she have done such a thing?"

"I'm entirely sure that it was her idea," said Ten, "Her chambermaids were not made aware, meaning she did not direct them what to pack. I have a theory."

"And what is that?" Albertine asked, leaning closer, her fan over her nose and mouth.

"Someone important thinks she's dangerous," said Ten, "And if she is dangerous to the powers that be, she could prove a useful ally."

"Well, she is a woman, and so already head and shoulders above most of the others," said Madame Hirondelle, "And not related by blood to that son of a bitch."

"Which one?" Ten chuckled.

"Listen, ma petite, I know you have met a few whores in your time. You likely think that what I do and what they do is the same thing. But the thing about operating as a courtesan… the clientele is much, much more vulgar. A sailor might go to a brothel for a tumble he can't get elsewhere, but the ladies and gentlemen of the court - the ones who can afford my company - do so for things they would not dare indulge in with someone who might talk. I have been doing this for nearly thirty years, and, now that he is safely with the demons, I can tell you that the late Maric Theirin was the very worst of them all - made all the worse because of how well he hid his nature in public. An end to that line would be the best thing that could happen to this little nation."

"I have… heard such things about him," said Ten, "So, grant me some small gratification, after all I have done for you this day."

"What would you like to know, ma petite?"

"How exactly did the queen of the Val Royeaux courtesans wind up in Denerim of all places?"

"Oh, I pissed off the wrong viscomte," she said, waving her hand in the air as though she couldn't even remember what scandal she had caused that she had had to flee the country, "Or rather… I pissed on the wrong viscomte. And it wasn't the wrong one, he had paid a good amount of money for it, but didn't bother to tell his daughters to leave the wing for the night. He committed suicide for the shame, poor man. And after that, my discretion was impugned, nobody would take me into their confidences - or their bedchambers - anymore. In Denerim, I am exotic. And the sum I make from my investments back home go much further here."

"I regret everything I have done in my life that has led up to me asking that question," said Ten, "But I suppose I brought it on myself. Now, I believe we have come to some sort of… alliance is such an indelicate word…"

"Our interests are aligned," said Madame Hirondelle, "Tell me what more your little mice learn of the queen, and I will await the call for the Commoner's Council."

"I will do so," Ten said, rising, "And…"

"What is it, ma petite?"

"I was too angry to say it before, but tell Anton I'm sorry for my part in all of this. All three of us did things we shouldn't have, and he is the one paying the highest price."

She nodded, "I will. But do not worry for him. He will likely come out of this with far fewer scars than you will."