A/N: Josephine has to deal with two unwilling recipients of Orlesian finery.
...-...
"Is this a joke?"
Josephine looked up from her papers to see that Finley was holding up one of the gowns they had started for her—getting her to sit still for measurements had been a nightmare, and so they'd put as much of it together as possible without her present, so as to expedite the process. Thus, she was seeing many of these outfits for the first time when most would have had a little bit better of an idea as to what was being made for them.
Lowering her quill so that she could give Finley her full attention, Josephine called out to her as innocently as she could. "There is no problem with the gown, I hope?"
"This is a joke, right?" Finley finally tore her gaze away from the delicate gown she'd been holding as though it were some sort of poisonous snake—granted, she'd probably hold a poisonous snake a little more lovingly—and met Josephine's, brow scrunched together in disbelief. "I am going there to stop an assassination. This will be…"
"You are also going to be meeting in private with several other nobles, and they were saying the ball might go for three nights. Should you thwart the assassination on the first night, you could wear something fashionable the next two. It is a tad ridiculous, but the court will judge us on our presentation. To see you wearing the latest styles will help."
Finley abruptly darted over to Josephine's desk, leaning against it, ignoring the way she was wrinkling the fabric of the new garment where her hand pressed it into the wood. "For what purpose must I drown in cloth? Do the nobles fear I shall have too much range of motion if I dress practically?"
Josephine and Leliana had thought she might fight them on this, but that was fine. Josephine was prepared. Lightly resting her quill in her inkwell, she gathered up a few papers that were ready to be sent off, rising from her seat slowly. "You know, I do understand where you are coming from. It will be quite hard to fend off assassins in a dress. Once the official uniform is completed, I will call you back for that fitting."
Finley stood a little straighter, nodding.
As Josephine slipped out from behind her desk, she sighed. "It is a shame, though. Our dear commander was so looking forward to seeing you in a dress. He said he thought you would look quite lovely."
When she reached her door, she glanced back to see that Finley was staring down at the outfit she'd previously belittled, that earlier resolve wavering. "I guess I could try it on."
…~…
"You're joking."
Josephine fought the urge to smile at the déjà vu, instead looking up innocently to see Cullen inspecting the uniform that had been laid out, as well as a few other formal outfits. Leliana had been reviewing a few reports with Josephine, and her gaze wandered toward the clothes she'd helped commission. Their dear spymaster did have an amazing eye for fashion.
Cullen had already set the formalwear down, a heavy frown in place. "It is an Orlesian court."
"The Orlesian Court," Leliana corrected.
"And you expect us to walk around without armor?" He crossed his arms across his chest, the tuft of fur around the neck of his surcoat seeming to bristle from the action. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't backstabbing the national Orlesian pastime?"
"It's mostly metaphorical, you know," Josephine teased. "Armor can not protect from that."
Cullen simply let out a humph in response to that, glaring back down at the offending cloth.
"Commander," Leliana said, her voice a little too sweet, as was custom when she was dealing with the man. "Trust is important. Should they feel we do not trust them, they will be quite offended. In the face of such an offense, they will likely plot against us."
"So your logic is that since people will plot against us regardless, we should try to placate some."
"The right noble in our corner could make for an entirely different experience at Halamshiral."
With a scoff, Cullen shook his head. "The fact that we're there to stop an assassination should draw those loyal to the crown to us, regardless." He motioned with one hand toward the outfits laid out for him. "These are completely impractical. We could be clothing an entire orphanage with this—"
"Finley was excited to see you in the uniform," Josephine interrupted, head dipped toward her latest letter, though she angled herself just so, so that she could peer up through her lashes at Cullen to see his response.
He'd stiffened at the mere mention of their Herald, a light dusting of red on his cheeks.
"She thought it would be fun for the two of you to match," Leliana added, leaning toward Josephine as though her attention wasn't on the commander. "She is a such a sweet girl, always excited by such simple things."
"I…" Cullen's words were failing him.
Smile looking almost wistful, Leliana sighed. "And you should have seen her twirling in that dress earlier." With a shake of her head, she pushed herself away from Josephine's desk. "I'll go let her know that we won't be wearing any finery in favor of more armor."
As Leliana sauntered toward the door, her pace just a hair slower than she would usually use, Cullen's shoulders slumped in defeat. "Wait…I…maybe I can work with these…" He straightened up a little, resuming his earlier frown. "I'm still wearing my sword."
"Oh, of course."