"How do I look?"

Sera always knew she had a thing for formalwear, but she can admit that she has rarely ogled a woman this hard. She really appreciates watching Cassandra pretend to try and murder the Inquisitor in Skyhold's courtyard with all that sweat and gleaming moisture, but this is definitely a nice change.

"Fuck." It's not often that Sera is left speechless, but this is one of those moments. She should have Josephine arrange for all of Adaar's clothes to be tailored.

"You like it, I assume?" Adaar is having the same idea. She'll place the orders as soon as they get back.

"Yeah, yeah." As much as she does like it, Sera has more pressing concerns to voice. Maybe not many have noticed, but she certainly saw the lag in the qunari's movements. "Is your side fine?"

"Yeah."

Sera isn't convinced. She crosses her arms, not moving.

"Okay, okay." Adaar surrenders without even a hint of putting up a fight. She's not in any shape to do it, anyway. It's not an easy thing to admit. "I... This night had better not have a massive epic battle break out in the middle of the ballroom." She frowns. "We've had too many epic battles for the weekend, don't you think?"

Sera's too used to how things usually turn out to hope that things will be resolved properly tonight. Deciding whether an army of demons will plague Ferelden or not isn't an issue Corypheus will be content to sit down and negotiate with. "If shit gets real, stay out, I mean it." She's been counting her arrows and her fingers have been twitching for the last hour. She'll be ready. "Please."

She wishes she could, but everyone knows it's not possible. "You know I can't promise that, Sera."

The elf knows it too. "Fine, but stay back. Work some barriers or whatever. We're all here, we'll handle it." She can't stress her point enough. "I'll handle it, you got that?"

"Yes, boss." Adaar chuckles, feeling the stitches pull with every huff of air. It's a very real possibility that they'll reopen if she so much as gets knocked down with enough force. The sword at her side will have to remain a decoration for tonight.

She hopes so, at least.

"You better mean it." Sera puts on her best strict face. It's surprisingly good, considering how rarely she ever uses the expression. "I'm not hauling you back to bed tonight. You're gonna be fine and gorgeous and not covered in blood."

"Only if you are too."

Sera tugs on Adaar's collar as she rises to the tips of her toes. "I'm always careful. That's how my arse is still in one piece after everything. You're the one who needs to put on another plate of iron on you." However, when Adaar bends down to meet her lips, she begins to have second thought. "Or maybe you need to cut down on the heavy stuff so you can run circles around 'em." She whipers in between the smooth caresses of her lips, but that doesn't seem right either. "But the heavy stuff's real sexy."

"Well, I told Josephine I wanted to wear it tonight, but she said no." Adaar rolls her eyes. "She said it would make me look unfriendly."

"You won't need it." Sera confidently offers. "I'll make sure of it."

"That reminds me," Adaar remembers. "Did Solas' solution work?"

"What, putting that glowy green thing in the box so he can give it to the Empress?" She never was fond of the elven artifacts they often found during their travels. Granted, it wasn't very often, but it was much too often for her.

"Yeah. It's a good idea if it can keep random objects from floating around when you're around. The Empress is also a big fan of elven artifacts. It will win her over to our side."

"Oh, save the Inquisitoring for later." Sera crosses her arms and cheekily looks down at the outfit she was forced to wear. Josephine was perfectly aware that they might run into a few undesirable confrontations tonight, and so she requested that the tailor refrain from designing the usual elaborate ballgowns that this kind of event usually calls for.

Hey, at least she looks good in burgundy and her outfit doesn't require heels. Heels aren't good for fighting, and one sick pebble in her head won't stop insisting that she'll need to do quite a bit of that tonight.

It's time, and the sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach is only falling even further. The moment the cart pulls to a stop, she knows she has to put a lid on her mouth and walk like how Leliana taught her too, look no one in the eye unless it's necessary, smile like nothing is wrong with the world and stay on Adaar's arm at all times. Most importantly, let the Inquisitor do all the talking.

The door opens and suddenly her chest feels tighter than the corset around her waist. With a reassuring squeeze of her arm and a nod, Adaar leads her outside.

It's like leaving an old life behind, for a moment. It feels so wrong and so different, but she can't back down. Not now. Sera feels like the caricature of herself that many often speak of. She hangs off the Inquisitor's arm like a pretty accessory in her meticulously made clothes, which are obviously more feminine than the sharp garb Adaar dons, because that's all she's doing tonight—looking nice.

Everyone knows about what happened in Adamant Fortress and she's as much in the spotlight as Adaar is. She can afford to fuck up, she always has, but the Inquisitor can't. She never thought her incessant bragging about them would backfire like this. Then again, she hears that the mage can't stop talking about her, so perhaps the fault is equally shared.

She smells freshly watered flowers and expensive perfume and her vision consists of an array of colors, from the brightest lilac purple to the most striking gold and everything else she can imagine. It's nothing like the dull and dirty shades she's used to see, but the whispers are the worst. They're so many that she can't hear one individual sentence, but it's not like she doesn't know what they're thinking.

According to Leliana and Josephine's sources, they thought she was the first ever successful attempt of turning a common elf into a mage. Official Inquisition statements have been released, but all it's done is deny that but confirm that she is a walking Fade Rift and no one knows what might happen to her.

That's exactly why Empress Celene wants to see her. Josephine had a brief talk about how the Empress seemed hesitant at first, but was glad to request their company after Solas' gift. She thinks the mysterious magical counsel that's rumored to reside in the palace knows much, if she's able to give the most important political figure in Orlais a go after inspecting the artifact sent to them.

Adaar drapes her arm loosely around her waist, uttering a simple question. "Fantastic night for a ball, don't you think?"

They even rehearsed it, for shit's sake. "Certainly." The word tastes like bile in her mouth.

The mage says nothing, but she smiles although her eyes don't seem to follow. They connect with the elf's, as if promising to make this as short as it needs to be. She hears Dorian and Bull conversing shortly behind them, natural as ever. The qunari warrior is obviously not his usual casual self, but no one who hasn't personally spoken to him would be able to tell. It's very fitting of a spy. Blackwall is too quiet, but he doesn't have to be in the center of everyone's sights tonight, not like her.

"Inquisitor Adaar!"

Here it comes, the first of the many curious nobles who will ask them about Inquisition business tonight. They're a pair that consists of two very colorfully dressed aristocrats, puffy sleeves and polished smiles and all. Sera doesn't even bother trying to pick out any details. It's not like there's a shortage of them tonight.

"Sir, madame." Adaar politely nods. "Nice evening for a ball, isn't it?" She smiles as if balls are just another walk in the park for her.

"Oh, definitely. I hear that the queen will be serving her best spirits tonight." The man gives them a suble grin that seems to have been practiced a thousand times.

These people really have no idea what's going on tonight.

Adaar responds without missing a beat. "Ah, yes. I think I saw a servant carrying bottles of-" And this is the exact moment Sera loses interest. She doesn't like this Adaar, even though it's not the first time she's seen the qunari go into what she calls "Inquisitor mode".

She turns her attention elsewhere, scanning through the crowds for anything she has to know. It's hard to spot suspicious faces where everyone looks like they're hiding families of skeletons under their basements.

"-isn't it?"

Sera leaves the question hanging before she realizes that Adaar is looking at her in expectation. Crap, the thinks.

"For one, I do think you look stunning in your dress." Adaar gives her a hint, although it really is true that she finds it hard not to stare.

Blush, look down. Look coy, like a nice little fuck toy. "Thank you." Say something about it. "I'll definitely requisition several more outfits from this tailor." A sigh of relief. She didn't mess up yet.

"You are the Inquisitor's lady, are you not?" The man inquires casually.

"I am." She scours her head for anything to say that won't land Adaar in hot water. A second passes and she's starting to feel her chest race. "It's a real pleasure."

The small twinkle in Adaar's eye tells her that she's just dying to make a dirty joke out of that. "I enjoy your company greatly as well."

That sounded so very wrong, not Adaar at all. It's too much to hope for these two to stop asking them questions that will inevitably lead to Sera having to talk and probably add to the list of apologies and explanations poor Josephine will have to write after the ball is over.

Or not.

Two marching soldiers with cold helmets approach them, drawing the stares of many. The thumps of their boots are solid on the ground and they halt at the exact same time in front of them. "Inquisitor Adaar. The ambassador has requested the presence of you and your lady."

The stare both women exchange with each other speaks volumes about their confusion, but there's no room to show that. Not here. "Very well." Adaar nods. "Take us to her."

Without a word, they walk. The guards take position around them like bodyguards with too much affinity for fancy armor. The two Inquisition members don't break eye contact. They're having the same thought: What's going on? Leliana ran this through with them, at no point did she mention them being called over by guards.

Sera feels Adaar's arm tense under her fingers. She gives her bicep a light squeeze. She tries to ignore the stares she feels at the back of her neck like nocked arrows waiting to be released. She begins to feel her palms sweat when the guards open the gates because everyone is still outside, no guests have entered the palace yet, but there they are.

"Right this way." A guard says, leading them through a flight of marble stairs.

The sparkling chandelier and the intricate paintings go unnoticed like the gleaming floors and the gilded pillars, because once they've reached their destination, everything seems a bit more clear.

The Ambassador is in a green dress that fits the rusty red of her hair. She is shorter than Adaar thought she would be, and then she sees the pointed ears. She's an elf, and even through the mask, she is looking at them with a stare that's excited, almost happy.

"I'm glad you received my invitation."

Do I have to apologize because college is swamping me?