Prompt: Briala/fTrevelyan/Celene; both Celene and Briala fall for the inquisitor; everyone except the Inquisitor notices

Requested by N.L.F.C. u/2904605/

[spoilers for Dragon Age Inquisition]

A/N: this is silly, way longer than I intended, and doesn't make much sense. It was a challenge to write something about these characters, but I hope that at least some part of this story is good enough.

Celene lived, and the future of Orlais was safe.

After her speech, once they were away from prying eyes Celene put her hand on the Inquisitor's shoulder and squeezed it gently. Her face was as emotionless as the mask she wore, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Confused, Trevelyan didn't say a word. It probably didn't mean anything.

Once she was free from Celene, Trevelyan found herself in a room with Briala. There were so many rooms in the Winter Palace, it was hard to say where they went exactly.

"I'd like to thank you again," the elf said with a warm smile.

She's pretty when she smiles, Trevelyan thought, quite surprised that she even noticed.

"If I can help you in any way, don't hesitate to ask."

Briala leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, and Trevelyan was so stunned she couldn't say anything.

Later Trevelyan didn't pay much attention to any of that. Josephine gave her a funny look, but Trevelyan was so tired she decided to ignore it completely. She needed to get back to Skyhold and sleep for as long as she could.

Little did she know she wasn't done with Orlais yet.

Precisely one week later the Empress sent a letter to Skyhold, once again stating how grateful she is for all the help she got from the Inquisition.

"I think Celene likes you," Leliana said, surprise painted on her face. "I never thought she would be so… kind."

Trevelyan smiled. How funny to see the usually stoic and calm spymaster so shocked.

"I'd say it's a diplomatic victory for the Inquisition. I'm glad we have Orlais on our side," she pointed out. "It's obvious she's being nice to me because she wants me, the mighty Inquisitor, as her ally. She rules Orlais freely now, but Corypheus is still a threat."

"Yes, but…" Leliana let out a sigh, her eyes scanning the letter once again as if searching for a hidden meaning.

"Could you please write a reply? Tell her I'm always happy to help and all that. You're better with words than me, and you certainly know more about the Orlesian way of thinking than I do."

"Of course," Leliana nodded.

She seemed a bit worried, but Trevelyan decided it was best to ignore it because really, the spymaster had no reason to worry about Celene's intentions. Or so the Inquisitor thought.

Trevelyan hummed to herself as she grabbed a piece of bread from the kitchen table. There should be a jar of marmalade nearby. And a jug of milk if she was lucky.

She knew she shouldn't come to the kitchen in the middle of the night. But she was the Inquisitor, dammit. If she wanted to go to the Skyhold's kitchen after midnight and get something to eat, then she sure as hell could do it.

"Inquisitor Trevelyan."

The Inquisitor jumped, bread falling on the floor. She turned, ready to face whatever horror wanted to attack her.

It was just a petite elven woman wearing servant's clothes.

"Maker's balls, who the hell are you?! And why do you scare me like that?"

The woman blinked, faint blush colouring her face. "I'm terribly sorry, Inquisitor. Briala sends me. She'd like to know if there's anything you need that she can help you with."

"It's past midnight and I'm wearing a nightdress!"

"As I said, I'm terribly – "

Trevelyan cursed. "You know what, I get it, Briala's weird." She took a deep breath. The elf stared at her with a hint of panic in her big brown eyes. "Please tell her that as much as I appreciate her offer, I don't wish to be disturbed in the middle of the night. She should contact me or better, Leliana, and we'll be more than happy to speak to her or you, or her other agents, someplace else because we're in the kitchen, and the Inquisitor should not make any important decisions in a place that smells like onion soup."

She reached for the bread that fell on the floor, her hunger completely gone. Andraste's ass, being the Inquisitor sure was exhausting sometimes.

"Understood," the woman nodded. "If I may, there's one more thing…"

"I'm listening…" Trevelyan groaned. She had only herself to blame since it was her fault she came here for the midnight snack. She should be in bed. Warm, soft bed, and she could deal with problems like this one in the morning.

"She'd like to give you this."

The elf held out a sword in a sheath decorated with small crystals. Trevelyan scratched her head. She felt so confused she was actually getting dizzy.

"It's for you," the elf clarified before putting it gently on the table. Trevelyan looked at the sword, finding it more and more difficult to believe it wasn't a dream.

"Tell her that I, ah… I'll think of the right way to repay her for this."

"No, no, there's no need. Please accept it as a token of friendship."

"Hm," was all Trevelyan could say.

"Good night, Inquisitor," the elf said before she disappeared Maker knows where.

Trevelyan couldn't remember how she got back to her bedchamber. The next day she gave the sword to Cullen, begging him to 'do something with it'. He looked even more confused than her, but thankfully he didn't ask about anything.

She never went to the kitchen in the middle of the night again.

"Empress Celene?!"

Trevelyan, face smeared with mud and sweat, armour dirty after fighting, stared at Cassandra. The Seeker nodded. "Yes, she's here and she wants to speak with you as soon as possible."

"We are on a battlefield," Trevelyan stated. "I'm glad she sent us her chevaliers, but what's she doing here?"

"It seems Celene's become one of your biggest fans," Dorian chuckled. As the only mage in the group chosen for the final battle he was considerably cleaner than the rest. Or maybe he knew a spell that kept his expensive robes in the best shape no matter what.

"What's that supposed to mean?" the Inquisitor asked, growing more confused with every passing second.

Dorian waved his hand. "Oh, nothing. Don't let her wait."

It wasn't hard to locate the Empress. Surrounded by her handmaidens, she stood near the chevaliers, offering them her blessings and support of the whole Orlais. Trevelyan wondered if Celene had some kind of royal armour created for the occasion, but no. She wore an ornate silver mask, and a deep blue dress. Who even allowed her to come to the battlefield? If anything were to happen, Orlais would surely blame the Inquisition. Trevelyan frowned. She'd need to speak to Briala once the battle is over, providing everyone survives.

With a heavy sigh, she walked to the Empress of Orlais. Seeing her, one of the handmaidens gasped. The Inquisitor curtsied, though she imagined she probably looked comical, considering the state of her clothing. Even if Celene didn't like the way Trevelyan looked, she didn't say a word, greeting her with a smile.

"We are most happy that you managed to find time for us before this important battle," she said, polite as ever.

"The pleasure is all mine," Trevelyan stated, reciting one of the formulas Josephine taught her. Hopefully her voice didn't sound that fake this time.

"Please accept our blessings for the upcoming battle. All Orlais stands behind you."

Trevelyan blinked. "Oh, um…Thank you, Your Radiance. You are most kind."

She stared at her own feet, uncertain what she was supposed to do in this type of situation. Josephine would surely know; Trevelyan cursed herself for never listening when the Ambassador wanted to teach her all that stuff about diplomacy.

Then she remembered the tales about knights her mother used to tell her when Trevelyan was little, and without any hesitation she fell down on one knee in front of the Empress. Perhaps this was the right way to show her gratitude. Knights in tales always kneeled in front of kings and queens.

Trevelyan bowed her head, but there was something missing. Hesitantly, she grasped Celene's hand, hoping she won't smear mud on her splendid dress. When the Empress didn't protest, she pressed her lips to the delicate hand.

She heard the handmaidens gasp in unison. The Inquisitor stood up, releasing Celene's hand.

"We hope that you… return to us," the Empress said after a beat.

There was a faint blush on her face. But Trevelyan probably just imagined that.

She coughed awkwardly. "I should go."

She bowed her head. It was probably the clumsiest goodbye in the diplomatic history of Thedas, and she was sure Josephine would scold her later. Providing they survive the battle with the Elder One, but who would worry about some darkspawn magister when the Inquisitor did something so disrespectful in front of the Empress of Orlais.

It took all her willpower not to run straight to her tent. Once she got there, she let out a long sigh.

Cassandra stared at her, red– faced. Trevelyan gave her a confused look.

"Well," Varric said in an amused voice, "you certainly know how to woo a lady."

"What? I just wanted to thank her for the support. How else are you supposed to thank the Empress of Orlais? I couldn't just say, Hey Celene, thanks for the chevaliers!"

"Of course." There was something in the dwarf's expression Trevelyan couldn't quite understand.

She huffed in annoyance. There was no time for this type of nonsense; the Elder One wouldn't wait for her.

"Let's go," she said, gripping her sword. "It's time to end this."

Trevelyan couldn't tell how much time had passed since the celebration started. Skyhold was full of people, food and drinks as everyone celebrated the Inquisition's victory. She was quite sure nothing can ruin her good mood anymore.

One week later she was proved wrong when yet another letter arrived from Orlais.

"Empress Celene is organising a ball," Josephine said, holding the letter in her hands. "She wants to celebrate the Inquisiton's triumph. You are to be her guest of honour."

Trevelyan groaned, all her happiness gone. Celene would surely remind her about their last meeting, and how the Inquisitor made a fool of herself in front of everyone.

"Do I have to go..?" she asked in a weak voice already knowing the answer.

Josephine merely glanced at her. She had a very smug look on her face.

"I'm not wearing a corset!"

Trevelyan knew her protest was futile yet she still had to try.

Perhaps it was rude but Trevelyan simply couldn't pretend she wants to be here. Her feet were sore, whole body ached because of the rib–crushing corset she had to wear. All around her people were enjoying the party. The Inquisitor, on the other hand, wanted nothing else but to hide from everyone, especially Celene and Briala. They seemed to watch her all the time, their eyes following her everywhere she went.

Eventually Trevelyan was so annoyed with everything she couldn't stand it anymore. She went outside, desperate to hide somewhere in the royal garden. People were busy dancing and gossiping; who could possibly find her here?

"You don't look so good, Inquisitor."

Trevelyan cursed in her thoughts. Briala, the answer was Briala.

"I'm afraid I need to spend some time away from the crowd."

The elf nodded. Trevelyan hoped she would leave her alone. Briala, however, had a different idea.

"Celene and I would like to speak with you in private. Come with me, please."

With a heavy heart, Trevelyan followed Briala to a different part of the palace. Celene was waiting for them in a small room that looked like a study, with portraits on the walls and shelves full of books. She was sitting by a table, drinking tea from a porcelain cup. When the Inquisitor walked in, she gave her a smile.

"Sit down, please," Briala said.

Once they all were seated by the table, Trevelyan wondered if the elf brought her here so she can be their source of amusement. There was something in their eyes she couldn't quite decipher, as if the women made a secret agreement.

"Would you like some tea, Inquisitor?" Celene asked.

Trevelyan nodded, too tired to argue. When the Empress poured hot tea in a cup, the Inquisitor couldn't help but smile. How many people could say that the Empress of Orlais served them tea?

"How do you like the ball?" Briala asked. "You're extremely popular among Orlesian nobles, I noticed. They seem rather… fascinated by your charm, Inquisitor."

"I'm not so sure about that," Trevelyan admitted.

"Oh, but they do like you," the elf insisted, something like mischief glistening in her eyes.

"I'm glad you accepted my invitation," Celene said.

Trevelyan glanced at the Empress, noticing she no longer referred to herself as 'we'. Was it because they were talking in private…?

"You are an extraordinary woman, Inquisitor. If we cooperate, the future of Thedas is in our hands."

Trevelyan twisted her lips bitterly. All that talk about power and changing the fate of the world always made her head hurt.

"Politics, of course," she scowled. "It may come as a surprise but I'm not really interested. You see, fighting is what I do. Political matters don't interest me in the slightest."

Celene and Briala exchanged a look. The elf bit her lower lip, trying not to laugh.

"Politics?" The Empress chuckled. Her hand grasped her mask. "My dear Inquisitor, what we have in mind is more pleasant and satisfying than mere politics."

She carelessly tossed her mask on the floor. Trevelyan watched, transfixed, as she removed pins from her hair one by one, a wave of blond curls falling on her back.

She stood up and offered her hand to Trevelyan. The Inquisitor took a deep breath, accepted Celene's hand and got up on her feet, feeling hot blush on her face.

Celene caressed her face while Briala's skilled fingers helped unlace her corset, and Trevelyan finally understood what they had in mind.