Fae set out for the guest wing, looking to find elven servants still serving drinks and hors d'oeuvres. She found one, who stopped, it seemed, more out of surprise than for a desire to chat.

"Ah, excuse me," Fae started apologetically. "I'm looking for the elven ambassador."

The girl stepped closer, offering her tray of champagne glasses.

Fae accepted one and lowered her voice. "I have a message for her, do you know where she is?"

The girl bit her lip anxiously, then looked away. "The ballroom," she said quietly. "One of the balconies, most likely. She cannot stay inside with the nobles for long without drawing too much attention."

"Thank you," Fae whispered gratefully.

The servant kept her face turned away. "You are with the Inquisition, non? Might there be need for another servant?"

Fae pretended to be very interested in the contents of her glass. "We don't make a habit of turning away help when it's offered. But what we are doing is dangerous, you should know that if you want to follow us to Skyhold."

"If you had seen the servants' quarters tonight, you would see that it is more dangerous to work in the Winter Palace of late," the girl whispered, and Fae felt a rush of guilt and sympathy.

"Lady Pentaghast is in the vestibule, short dark hair, Inquisition uniform," Fae whispered back quickly. "Tell her the Lady Seer sent you personally. She'll go to Sister Nightingale and have everything arranged."

"You are the Lady Seer?" the servant said, not hiding the surprise in her voice. "That explains… that is, thank you, my lady."

"You're welcome. We are going in the same direction, then. Shall we?"

The servant walked behind Fae through the guest wing, and they parted ways in the ballroom without further comment.

Fae ducked her head through the archway of each balcony until she found Briala, unmistakeable in her unusual gown. Anxiety wrapped itself around Fae like a vice. No pressure, only the fate of thousands, if not all of Thedas, resting on the outcome of this conversation. She cleared her throat, unwilling to trust her voice not to falter from the outset.

"You are welcome to join me, Inquisitor," Briala said, turning away from her view of the gardens.
"Oh. I see she has sent a representative instead. No doubt the Inquisitor has more important potential allies to speak with. Go on, then, tell me what it is you want."

Sorry to disappoint. "You already know we seek an end to this civil war," Fae said steadily. "That's also why you're here, officially. For the peace talks."

Briala leaned over the balustrade. "I want a voice for our people. We live in the lowest ranks of society. No one hears us. No one sees us. If the elves of Halamshiral were elevated… if we had an elven noble at court? We'd have recognition, legitimacy. I will do whatever is necessary to make that happen, whatever the price."

"And I assume you'd be this ascended elven noble, who changes everything?" Fae joined Briala at the balustrade, lowering her voice. "As you say, every aspect of human society is designed to keep elves down. It would take much more than an elf in a position of power in court to change things. Look at me, look at the Inquisitor. People out there think she's the Herald chosen by Andraste Herself and yet we're little more than curiosities to these people."

"Speaking of which…" Briala regarded Fae out of the corner of her eye. "I would have thought the self-proclaimed ancient Tevinter magister, a progenitor of the darkspawn who has singled out your Inquisitor personally, would have been the more pressing issue than the outcome of a foreign power's civil war."

"You're right, it is. That's why we're here. And that's why we need your help."

"My help?" Briala said doubtfully, keeping her gaze on the palace grounds below. "I'm honoured, although I fail to see why I would, if I will be very busy changing everything single-handedly."

"Because if you don't, the bright elven future you hope will emerge from a collapsed Orlesian empire will never happen."

"Hm. I heard you have the power of foresight. Did you see this future for yourself?" Briala's tone hadn't changed, but Fae could practically feel Briala's focus on her, even as her mask still stared straight ahead.

"That is not how my…speciality, works," Fae said hesitantly, kicking herself internally for being taken off-guard by such a predictable question. "And no, I didn't. But the Inquisitor did, in Redcliffe. A Tevinter magister, allied with Corypheus, attempted to magically manipulate time. He meant to make it so that the Inquisitor never existed, but his former protégé, Lord Pavus, interfered, and the spell was miscast. The magister unintentionally sent both the Inquisitor and Lord Pavus forward in time by just one year. Corypheus had won, all had been lost. They fought their way back to us, and now our job is to ensure that future never comes to pass."

Briala tsked. "And you believe her? She might have a habit of being in the right place at the right time, but Dalish mages are no more inclined to greatness than any other."

"She has never pretended otherwise, not really. People see and hear what they want," Fae admitted. "But I saw her disappear with Lord Pavus myself, and reappear bloody and bruised less than a minute later. Even if that wasn't enough to convince me, I did manage to see something. An arrow caught by Lord Pavus' shoulder as they fled was all I needed. Just a glimpse, but it was enough."

"Ah. So I must take your word for it?"

Fae hesitated again, considering, and Briala scoffed. "You Inquisition zealots give away your emotions so easily, it is embarrassing. Perhaps you should have worn masks."

"I'm aware that we're out of our element in this place," Fae said, her irritation plain, "But that doesn't make what I've told you less true. I have waited fourteen years to give this to you. Sound familiar?"

Briala's curiosity was piqued. She examined Fae properly now, exposed lips pursed, looking for something in the girl's expression. "Will you indulge my curiosity? Tell me how these visions really work?"

"My visions only show me what has already happened. That's as much as I can tell you, in the spirit of being honest with each other."

"You still haven't told me why my help is needed."

"Because we need you to help us keep Celene alive, and Orlais intact, at least for a little while longer."

Briala straightened her posture. "And why would I do this?"

"Because if you don't, in one year's time there will be nothing and no one left to save, elven or otherwise." Fae met her gaze through the mask. "Corypheus' victory begins with Celene's assassination, here, tonight, by his Venatori followers. We'll do what we can to stop that from happening, but we also suspect someone with great influence may be assisting him." She let the unspoken accusation hang in the air.

Briala acknowledged Fae's request with a humourless laugh. "And you believe I would ally with Corypheus? Even the most unworldly elf knows how the Tevinters of today view elves, let alone ancient magisters."

"I know that whatever you want, you want it very badly. You said yourself you will do whatever is necessary, no matter the price," Fae pointed out.

"And I will pay that price but I am no fool. I will not be used, by anyone, especially not by a magister," Briala snapped. Her mask slipped, and she tightened the ribbons securing it with a sharp yank.

"Then Celene must survive tonight, and every night, at least until Corypheus is gone for good. You say you would pay the price? This is the price," Fae insisted. "You must convince her she is forgiven, and return to her side so you can protect her."

Briala scoffed. "Celene is beyond forgiveness, and she knows it."

"We're not asking you to actually forgive her," Fae snapped back. "I've seen some of what she has done to your—our, people, and I hate her for it, but it doesn't change what we need to do to stop Corypheus. We're asking you to keep her alive, and you can do that by convincing her she is forgiven."

"She will not believe me."

"Of course she will. Because she will want to believe you." Fae held out the wooden locket. "I saw what this meant to her, and what it meant to you."

Briala accepted it, and ran her thumb over the intricate swirls carved into the wood.

"The Inquisitor is, at present, charming Celene and speaking about love lost and the empress will think about you. She'll run into your arms and if for no one else but the sake of our people, you have to let her," Fae pleaded. "Do that, and you can have the alliance with the Inquisition you want. We know you have a powerful weapon of some kind, and we would make use of it against Corypheus, rather than risk it falling into his hands."

Briala looked up, a bitter smile crossing her lips. "This was my mother's. Carved from vhenadahl wood. I gave it to Celene for her coronation- fourteen years late, as you said correctly. I did not know then that she had bought her throne with treason, and to keep that treason a secret, she had ordered the deaths of her entire household, including my own family. I alone was given the opportunity to escape the assassins."

"…Ah," Fae said, putting the missing context together. "That's why you were running away. I'm sorry."

Briala nodded her acknowledgment, still thinking. "I will do what you ask, on one condition."

Fae's relief was palpable. "Name it."

"Grand Duke Gaspard will die in disgrace before the Inquisition leaves Halamshiral."

The Seer's expression faltered. Cullen's men were currently stopping Gaspard's military coup, or convincing Gaspard to make a truce with Celene for the sake of defeating Corypheus, hopefully both.

"Why? Revenge for the Purge of Halamshiral? We've heard Celene blames him for it, even though she led the march herself."

"If the civil war is to end, there must be a decisive winner, and if the winner must be Celene, Gaspard must die," Briala explained firmly. "He will not accept a war lost while he yet lives."

"Alright, but why in disgrace?"

"An assassination would make him a martyr in the eyes of the chevaliers and what few noble families still loyal to him, and the war would go on even without him. He must be formally executed by the Crown."

Fae considered. "With Gaspard dead, only Florianne will be in direct line for the throne. The empire won't truly be stable with a single heir."

Briala said nothing.

"…But that's what you want, isn't it?"

"If I am the only one who can stay close enough to keep Celene alive, which I am, you cannot afford to refuse me. Do you have enough proof of his guilt to defeat him? It must be irrefutable; his supporters will accept nothing less."

"We do. And the army of elven spies?"

"Will be at the Inquisition's disposal."

"Are you certain?" Fae raised an eyebrow. "We've heard whispers among the servants that you were sleeping with the empress when she led the Purge, can you still guarantee their loyalty to you?"

"They have as much to lose if this Corypheus succeeds as I do, so yes."

"Good. I'll see you when the peace talks commence, then. Bring that locket with you." Fae made to leave, but she only got as far as the balcony entrance before Briala got her last word in.

"Oh, and by the way, I heard that the King of Ferelden is a personal acquaintance of yours, Seer."

Fae regarded her warily, but didn't speak.

"How does the nobility treat Ferelden's elves these days, since Maric's bastard took the throne?" Briala asked innocently. "Does your family still slum in an alienage?"

The Seer hesitated once more. Her mouth was dry, the hair pulled back from her face felt heavy, pulling at her scalp, and the constant hum of the ballroom gossip felt like it was closing in on her. "I don't know," she admitted finally. "I'll see you at the peace talks, ambassador."