Hail to the Emperor (Dragon Age: Inquisition)

Lavellan's Resolve

Gaspard had become the Emperor of Orlais. The title was his and his alone. He intended to usher in a new age of glory for the empire. And he had the tools and power to do so much more than that.

Yet he couldn't have done it himself. Without the Inquisitor at his side, either Briala would have reigned from the shadows with him only as a puppet monarch or Celene would have still reigned with total power in his place. The Grand Game had it's rules and in this case they all had to be followed, whatever his opinion of it was. Above all else the emperor, on whom eyes were on at all times, was a thrall to such noble deceit and treachery. But despite his open proclamations of hating the courtly game of prestige and betrayal, he was all too adept a player of it.

Such that he was able to convince the Inquisitor would have throw in with him at all. The Inquisitor herself was a dark skinned elven woman, her curly locks of black hair all the more unusual for one of her kind. Yet she showed favor to a warmonger and racist who as part of his initiation ritual to become a chevalier, had killed elves. There were so many things whispered by her allies and the other nobles of what might have inspired her to make such a decision.

So it was now that the Inquisitor was with Gaspard in what was Celene's bedroom. Within the comfort of the courtly walls and away from the other nobility, he could be himself. No mask to wear at parties, and no need to wear any courtly armor as much a matter of station as much as it was a uniform much as the court ladies wore their dresses. Instead he was only clad in his shimmering bloodred robes, something fine as would be expected from a nobleman yet also a sign of his martial prowess.

He had requested the Inquisitor also come in something not expected from the party. He had picked out a selection of similar robes for her to wear, stark white ones that even the most racist of the Orlesian court would find her beautiful in. She was prepared to do it, she had already swallowed her pride in making someone like this an ally in the name of helping the Inquisition. As much as she knew what sort of person he was, she at least knew what depths this devil was capable of.

On the other hand, Briala and Celene made the court their home and the Inquisitor had learned so many things about them. The depths of their hypocrisy, of their wickedness. And those were only the things she did know about. People like them were good at hiding the daggers in their courtly attire so it only followed they were doubly deadly, the types who would also kill you by a friendly handshake with a glove laced in poison. As strange as it was, out of the three candidates to the throne, she could trust him the most.

Gaspard was ever so grateful too. He had made sure the other members of the Orlesian court recognized his new friend. He had no doubts more than a few of them hated it, he knew their kind could barely tolerate Briala. He chuckled to himself at what a similar situation to Celene that he was now in.

All the more so he had that freedom because he was the emperor in word and deed. As much as the raiment of royalty could be a giant's robe that would weigh down and break those too weak to bear it's responsibilities, even the most ill fitted to wear the imperial crown still sat upon the throne and commanded so much power from the royal sceptre, as if they were the greatest of wizards. Such was his position now as the emperor of Orlais.

In only this bedroom attire, they were both barefoot. The carpet adorning the floor of the bedroom was so comfortable, for the Inquisitor. And the mattress and comforters of the bed felt great on Gaspard's feet too. Even two hardened warriors like them would be hard pressed to ignore such luxuries.

He looked at her and smiled. "I must thank you Mistress Lavellan," he said. "For choosing the rightful heir to the throne, a man who will see the empire of Orlais to glory."

"So long as you keep your promise," the Inquisitor said. "You gave your word that you would help the Inquisition in return for my aid in handing you the throne. If you do not, then I'll make sure you regret it."