"Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven escorting Lady Aralynn Hawke of house Amell, Champion of Kirkwall."

Hawke audibly groaned, and Sebastian gave her a warning look, though no one else was close enough to have heard it.

"Sorry," she said quietly, then followed as Sebastian led her through the wide, grand doorway and into the ballroom, past the stuffy-looking man who had announced their arrival. Far too many heads for Hawke's liking turned toward them to watch their entrance. Sebastian slid gracefully down the white marble stairs that led into the enormous recessed room while Hawke did her best to not trip and roll the rest of the way down with the poor man in tow. The tiny, heeled shoes Aveline had supplied her with were truly a travesty.

They made it to the bottom of the steps without incident and she tucked herself tightly into the relative safety of Sebastian's bent arm, letting him lead her toward a cluster of eager looking nobles.

"My Lady Champion," a tall, boisterous man with a receding hairline boomed, amusing Hawke with which parts of her title he chose to include. He stepped forward to greet them, taking her hand in his as Sebastian offered it forward. Hawke was annoyed equally by the groveling way the man proceeded to kiss her hand as by the way her escort had so ritualistically offered it up.

"Lady Aralynn, meet Lord Rickard Maeston," Sebastian stated the formal introduction, smiling toward the man in a way that implied previous familiarity.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lord Maeston," she said, bowing into a small and surprisingly graceful curtsy, "Thank you so much for inviting me, your home is truly splendid."

Hawke was instantly disgusted by her own performance - had a more artificial and clearly rehearsed line ever been delivered? Covert operations weren't turning out to be her forte.

"Of course my lady, the pleasure is entirely my own. Your presence truly delights us all," he replied, seeming genuine.

"Prince Sebastian, it's such a pleasure to see you again. I heard what happened with your family, such a travesty. Please accept my sincerest condolences," Lord Maeston said, nodding his head slightly in deference. Hawke tried not to glare at the man, doubting very much that his condolences were anything but self-serving.

"Thank you, Lord Maeston, your consolation is much appreciated," Sebastian replied as they were approached by a tall, thin man with striking blue eyes and a thick, neatly trimmed beard.

"Ah - let me introduce my brother, Federic," Lord Maeston said. Sebastian seemed a bit surprised to see the man, but greeted him with a formal, if curt, nod. An attendant trailed behind Federic with a despondent but patient look, never raising his gaze above the floor. Hawke would recognize that look anywhere, the man was his slave.

"Lovely to meet you, Champion," Federic said, lifting her hand to kiss it formally, but not moving his eyes from hers. Though the man seemed relatively harmless, his gaze was unnerving.

"Sebastian, I'm surprised to see you here. I thought you'd have more important matters to attend," Federic said. His meaning wasn't subtle - like reclaiming the throne of Starkhaven or avenging his family's murders.

"I trust Cousin Goran to manage things in my absence," he replied, then changed topics, "How do you find Val Royeaux, Federic?"

By Federic's reaction, Hawke would have thought he had called him a filthy nug eater.

The man recovered however and said, "It's the most beautiful city in all of Thedas. The wine and women are unmatched as well."

The men laughed affectedly as Hawke tried not to gag.

"Save this lovely Ferelden specimen," Federic said suddenly, turning back to Hawke, "You look positively radiant, Lady Hawke."

"You're too kind," she said, trying her best not to grit her teeth. Specimen? Was this guy for real?

"I apologize, Rickard, but I must take my leave early, we sail at first light," Federic announced.

"Of course, safe journey brother," Lord Maeston said, gripping the man on the shoulder cordially.

Federic turned to give them each a deferential nod, "Pleasure to meet you Champion. Sebastian."

Hawke sighed, realizing this was going to be how the night would go - formal introductions to people whose names she would likely forget instantly and small talk with an underlying current of contempt. She felt like she could be in more danger here than she ever was in Darktown.

Hawke tried not to panic as she was swarmed by nearby noblewomen along with an onslaught of questions about her hair, dress and makeup. She watched, horrified, as Sebastian stepped away with Lord Maeston, tossing an apologetic look back over his shoulder.

After half an agonizing hour, Hawke managed to escape the throng of women and return to Sebastian's side near a table of drinks and food. He was looking across the ballroom past her, but was able to hand Hawke a much needed goblet of wine without breaking his stare. She did her best to chug the drink in a lady-like manner, then set the empty glass down and took up another. She felt a modicum of relief as the liquid warmed her belly and loosened her nerves. She turned to see what Sebastian was looking at.

Far across the enormous ballroom, Varric stood with an attractive pair of female servants. After passing off Fenris and Merrill, he had apparently changed into formal attire, though with his chest hair hanging out and gold chain shining, he still managed to look entirely Varric. He offered the women a couple glasses and a bottle of wine, which they took and then walked toward the back corner of the room, likely on their way to either knowingly or unknowingly drug a handful of Lord Maeston's guards. The dwarf turned and flashed her and Sebastian a none-too-sly thumbs up.

"Have a good chat with Lord Maeston, traitor?" Hawke asked Sebastian, receiving a level look as he turned back toward her.

"You'd rather I offend our host?"

"No, I want you to not have abandoned me to that pack of wolves. Which is being cruel to wolves," Hawke replied glumly.

"You want some appetizers to go with that whine?" he asked. The look Hawke gave him could have killed, but he only smiled endearingly back at her as he took a bite out of a fancy, rolled-up delicacy of some kind.

"Seems risky," Sebastian said, changing the subject, "Why doesn't Varric just deliver it himself?"

"I don't know about you, but I was suspicious the first time Varric offered me a drink," Hawke explained, "And then he can't be directly implicated, should things go awry."

Sebastian nodded in comprehension, though Hawke barely noticed as she caught a glimpse of Anders. He was standing with his date, Lady Eloise, and a cluster of other couples on the opposite side of the dance floor. The woman was extremely beautiful, long golden locks of hair curled up into intricate designs on top of her head. She was very young, almost indecently so to have been escorted by a man of Anders's age. She hung off the mage's shoulder in a pandering manner, giggling as he spoke to the group of young nobles around him.

"Hawke, we're not to give one another away, yes?" Sebastian said under his breath as a gaggle of nobility sauntered past on their way to the dance floor.

"Sorry?" she asked absentmindedly.

"You're just staring a bit is all," Sebastian said, seeming concerned.

"Sorry - I… I didn't realize," she said truthfully, pulling her eyes away to turn and look at the archer. Sebastian's look was unreadable, but it caused Hawke to feel like she had been caught in something, even though she didn't know what.

"Let's dance," he suggested. It surprised her, but she assented, setting down her wine glass and taking his hand, allowing him to lead her toward the dance floor. After practicing with him every night over the last week, this was one part of aristocracy she had actually come to feel comfortable with.

It had been a mess at first, but she had it down in a matter of hours as soon as Sebastian had offered up the helpful, though born of frustration, suggestion of approaching it as fighting style. And it was, in a lot of ways. The particular dance type was a tactic, each step a reaction that became instinctual, playing off your foe's strategy. Just turn your assailant into your dance partner, and eliminate the weapons and deadly force. Same thing, really.