A/N: I usually don't write fluff. This chapter isn't complete fluff so, yeah.

Leliana sat with Rome on the floor of her bedroom. She was brushing out the long locks of raven hair.

"A masquerade party. You have such lovely ideas, Leliana." Rome murmured, relaxing her eyes. The calming feel of the soft brushing was a nice change from the headaches of office.

"Thank you, my lady. It is nice to have a little glamor in your life every once in a while. Especially when you insist on working yourself to death." Leliana chided softly, her Orlesian accent still prominent.

"There's just so much to do. So many people to take care of. I have to, have to, take a trip to the Free Marches. There's many of our citizens that fled the Blight over there."

"Rome, that is a worry for tomorrow. Just enjoy tonight."

Leliana means it well, and Rome tries, but it is much harder than she expects. Leliana pulls out a dress. A beautiful white dress, with so many embroiders dancing across the dress she can hardly look away. Her fingers trace the designs, and little diamonds sparkle in the candle light.

"Oh Leliana... It looks like a fairy-tale dress." Rome's voice is breathy.

"It is, my lady. This is your fairy-tale. You are the Queen who married her one true love."

Rome smiles.

"My life would be easier if it were a fairy-tale. Wynne could wave her wand and make everything better."

Leliana smiles and helps her into the dress. Two white straps hold the dress up. The dress is flows around her legs. Leliana straps a belt to her waist, a white one that matches the dress.

"There. That is for that beautiful sword of Maric's."

"You thought of everything." Rome says.

"Well, if Orlesians know anything, it is fashion. No details are spared or forgotten."

Leliana presents her the mask, which is as beautiful as the dress. White feathers are at the corner of the right eye. Clear gemstones sparkle. Leliana helps her put the mask on, which covers most of her face. Except for her small nose and mouth.

"Next time, I want armor." She murmurs, twirling slowly in the mirror.

"Not a chance in the Void! We did not camp out in the middle of nowhere for a year to wear armor to balls!" Leliana exclaims.

–

The ball is decorated as beautifully as her dress. The designs that accentuate the ball room are subtle, a word that Rome hadn't been sure Leliana knew the meaning of. There's live music, and everyone is enjoying themselves by the time she is presented.

It is still something she has not gotten used to. It's been three months since her wedding day and she's still paraded about. There's still the charm and status of being the Hero of Ferelden. All the eyes turn towards her. Noble women of lesser importance giggle and flock to each other. It doesn't take a genius to figure out their speaking of her. It's something she's used to.

Rome raises her head proudly. Their words hold no substance and do not affect her at all. She is queen, and she isn't allowed to be anything but cordial. Alistair holds out his hand for her when she approaches. First dance is awarded to the King and Queen. Leliana has planned this down to the last detail.

Alistair smiles, and the noble women are long forgotten. He's wearing a dark armor that contrasts with hers.

Their moves are coordinated. Hers are graceful. She transferred the basics of dueling to dancing. Because in a way, dueling was her deadly dance of choice. It had taken more than a few sessions with a private instructor to achieve grace with Alistair.

"You look beautiful." He tells her as the dance ends.

"Only because I let Lei have free reign."

He kisses her softly.

"Regardless."

Someone steps in Alistair's place for a dance with her. She easily recognizes Fergus, even with the mask on.

"You came." Her voice breaks for a second. "It's so nice to have you here. How long are you staying?" Her excitement rises as they twirl around the floor.

"A couple of days. It's all I could manage."

The dance ends and Rome ends up hugging Fergus tightly. He hugs her back.

"I'm so glad you're here."

"I had to make sure he was taking care of my baby sister." Fergus smiles, at something. "Though I suppose you aren't much of a baby anymore."

"One would think being Queen makes you this unbreakable person." Another dance starts, and she deflects noble women from dancing with her widower brother. She has two days with her brother and she is going to be selfish. "But it doesn't. I'll always need you, Fergus. You are someone I trust and that is a rare thing at Court."

The music stops, along with everyone on the floor. There aren't to many people left. Most of the nobles have quietly left, to tired or drunk to care about the politics of just leaving.

She bade her brother goodnight and let Alistair lead her to their room. He kisses her against the wall, and she feels like a part of the stone.

Her hips rock against his. She couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, or the pure attraction that had brought her so close to him. She was hyper-aware of her surroundings, of the stone digging into her shoulder-blades, into her back. She gripped at his hair, begging.

He went slow, setting her skin on fire. Every touch was a new sensation. His hand rests on her chest, right over her heavily strumming heart. His lips met the smooth skin of her neck. She couldn't help the whimper that escapes her throat. Amusement flicks over his face, amusement over the fact that he has her so riled up. His eyebrow quirks upwards, as if he was trying to figure out something in his mind.

He finally made up his mind and steps backwards, making the young woman try to grasp at the wall for balance.

"Come finish what you started." Rome purrs, gaining her balance quickly, something that didn't surprise him. He gave her a half cocked smile and returned to his spot. She melts heavily into his touch. He slowly worked her dress off, ignoring her pleas for him to hurry because she couldn't stand the wait.

The stone was freezing, and felt good in comparison to her body heat levels, which were steadily rising with every touch. He knew all of her weak spots, and in turn so did she. She knew the place on his shoulder, that if she bit just right, would turn him to putty.

A crash and a scream that resounds through the halls, making her damn the distraction to the Void.

He is still in his light armor. He unsheathes his sword before opening the door. He quietly shuts the door before turning to her.

"The castle is under siege."

"Shit."

–

A/N: That turned out to be much more than a drabble. Part one of two? Thanks for the favorites and putting this story on your alert list. It means a lot to me.