Rowena fumed at Celene as the empress browsed through the wares at a silk-stand in the Denerim Market District.
It had been a week since the ill-fated Complaint's Court, and to her great dismay Rowena discovered that Celene had yet to spontaneously combust. Her groping incident had crossed a definite boundary, no matter how many times Wynne and Leliana tried to convince her that touching was encouraged in Orlais. Fortunately for Celene's sake, the empress seemed to realize that she had gone too far and appeared to be trying to make amends. It had been she who had suggested this visit to the marketplace so the two monarchs (along with a few select members of their entourages) could "connect." Rowena begrudgingly agreed, despite the fact that the most "connecting" she wanted to do with Celene was with a sword to the imperial small intestine.
However, here she was, standing in the shade with Leliana, Wynne, and two of the highest ranking ladies in Orlais.
"This country is always so cold," Lady Dantine said irritably, pulling her cloak tightly around herself. She was a tiny woman with pinched-in features—she also happened to be extremely wealthy. "In Orlais, the springtime is warm and accommodating—not like this icebox in Ferelden."
"And the smells!" Lady Lisolette said, eyes wide. "It smells horribly like wet dog—not like you, of course, my Frou-Frou," she said sweetly, burying her face in the little lap-dog she was carrying.
Rowena sighed. With her curly blonde hair and baby blue eyes, Lady Lisolette was as pretty as a porcelain doll—unfortunately, she was about as intelligent as one as well.
"Ferelden does fairly well for itself," she said coolly, gazing across the market at a sword merchant's stall. "I think we have much to offer that you can't find in Orlais."
"Evidently, so does Her Imperial Majesty," Lady Dantine murmured to Lisolette, who promptly began laughing so hard she had to bury her face in Frou-Frou's fur.
Rowena frowned—she had to be missing something. The day Lady Lisolette got a joke that she didn't was the day that she considered herself an utter failure. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said icily.
"Oh, I was just talking about Her Majesty's interest in Ferelden silks!" Lady Dantine said in a far-too-innocent tone. "Look how intrigued she is!"
Rowena raised an eyebrow—Celene was staring at the stall the way most people stared at Oghren. "The empress must be very good at hiding her desires," she said dryly.
"Oh, believe me, she is," Dantine said, eyes sparkling; Lisolette snorted and pushed her head so far into her dog Rowena was surprised it hadn't been crushed.
Leliana smiled sweetly. "Well, at least Her Imperial Majesty won't expose herself to ridicule that way," she said innocently. "When I was in Orlais, I remember there was a horrible incident involving a lady and a horse—very messy and very humiliating."
Lady Dantine blushed furiously and turned away, muttering something about a stable. Rowena smiled gratefully at Leliana, who gave her a sly glance back before returning to her conversation with Wynne.
Bored, Rowena began looking once more around the marketplace. Wade's Emporium, one of the finest armories in the country, seemed to call out to her…but, yet again, to buy some armor would be "unladylike", and Maker forbid should that happen.
Suddenly, someone coughed near her ear. "Perhaps this would be a good time to have a conversation with Celene," Wynne whispered. "Smooth over some rough patches?"
Rowena put on what she hoped was a pleading face. "Or maybe I could just stay here and imagine that Celene has to face down a Hurlock."
"Nice try. Now go."
With a groan, Rowena stepped out of the shade into the sunlight. All around her, people bowed respectfully; she smiled kindly and reluctantly walked up to Celene.
"Ah, there you are, Your Majesty," the empress said calmly. "I was just looking at these fine Fereldan wares."
"Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty," the merchant said graciously. "We are honored to—"
"Queen Rowena, what do you think of this silk?" Celene asked, rudely cutting the poor man off.
Rowena froze; fashion was not her strong point. "Erm…it's nice?"
"Eh, it is poorly woven and will be hard to work with," the empress said disdainfully. "However, it is a very pretty shade of violet…yes, I think I will buy it."
Celene turned to her servant boy, who reached inside his cloak and pulled out a large bag of money. He handed it to his mistress, who then faced the merchant once more.
All of a sudden, a young man dressed in white burst out of nowhere, knife bared. Fast as sin, he cut off a lock of Celene's hair, and then, almost as an afterthought, grabbed her purse as well. He then raced off towards the alleys of Denerim.
"Gardes! Arretez cet home!" the empress shrieked. Rowena, however, was two steps ahead of her. Racing forward, she leapt onto a horse and began to gallop after the criminal.
The alleys in Denerim were dark and confusing—many times, Rowena thought she lost her target, only to see a flash of white turn a corner out of the corner of her eye. It soon became an elaborate game of high risk cat-and-mouse.
Then, suddenly it was over. Rowena rode out onto a straight lane with no side alleys; the thief was right in front of her. With a grim smile, she urged the horse forward, racing with break-neck speed at the hapless thief.
She furrowed her forehead, concentrating on her speed and timing. She knew that she had one shot at taking out this man—if her jumped was mistimed by a few seconds, her skirts meant that she wouldn't be able to catch up to him.
A few more seconds…she began to tense her legs…the young man looked up in horror, seeing his fate in her eyes…
With a WHAM!, someone collided into Rowena knocking her off the horse. She struggled to flip her assailant on his back—however, he was nimble, and she wasn't able to get a hold on him. He quickly leapt off her and slashed down with a dagger, slicing off a lock of her hair. He then sped off with his friend.
Rowena sat up in fury, rendered useless by a sea of silk. Suddenly, something sailed through the air and landed with a thud next to her hand. She picked it up curiously—it was Celene's money pouch, still full of sovereigns.
"What in the name of the Maker…?"
She heard footsteps running up behind her. Rising to her feet, she saw Wynne and Leliana lead a horde of guards that had surrounded themselves around the empress and her two friends.
"Did you catch that villain?" Lady Dantine shrieked, clutching her cloak about her as if afraid she was going to be attacked as well. "Will he but put behind bars?"
"Oh, get over yourself! No one cares enough about you to have you assassinated!" Wynne snapped, rushing forward protectively towards Rowena. She gave her a very concerned glance. "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm fine," Rowena said, still a little frustrated. "The only thing they damaged was my pride."
"Did they cut a lock of your hair?" Leliana asked sharply, looking observantly at her bangs. "Those bastards—I spent a lot of time getting it to look just right this morning!" She then gasped. "Oh, Rowena, look at your hand!"
Rowena looked down. To her dismay, an ugly purple bruise was already beginning to form.
"Lovely," she muttered disgustedly.
Wynne tsked and began to cast a minor healing spell; as she did so, Celene coughed and said, "So, did you or did you not manage to capture this scélérat?"
"Yes," Rowena said irritably, pulling her hand away from the magical aura. "I captured the thief, and then turned him invisible. He's now standing right behind you and is planning on giving you an Antivan massage."
"There is no need for sarcasm," the empress said coolly. "I see you have my porte-monnaie. Unless you are planning on taking it for yourself, I suggest you release it back into my custody."
Rowena stared at her in fury. "I assure you, Celene, if I ever need money from you, you'll be the first to know." With as much contempt as she could muster, she tossed the full sack back to the empress, who caught it with distaste. With a few murmured words, Celene haughtily motioned for her entourage to leave.
Hidden in the shadows in the distance, the thin, sallow man watched with satisfaction as the queen stood stiff with fury, watching the Imperial train leave for the palace. Beside him, the two young men placed the two locks of hair in his hand—one brown, one red.
He smiled. Everything was just the way he planned.