Prompt: Social occasions are only warfare concealed.

Wrote this one awhile back. Forgot to post until now.


"You're good at this," Cullen remarked as Leliana and Josephine withdrew to their respective corners of the ballroom. As they left, a few titters rose from a few women—and one man—lurking nearby. Elanor measured the distance between herself and her commander, and judged that a half step toward him would send the appropriate message.

At her motion, a few masked eyes glanced her way, fans snapping in surprise. The hovering cloud that had inched nearer with Leliana's and Josephine's exit hesitated, and Elanor smiled behind her mask. Cullen would be besieged again once she left his side, but for now she'd staked her territory and due to her work this evening, only a very few would be willing to breach that invisible wall while she was still there.

"Hmm?"

Cullen made a vague gesture, apparently not noticing the uneasy shuffle of his admirers away from the table. "This... Orlesian stuff. I've never seen you act like this at Skyhold."

Elanor grimaced under her mask. "Because I don't need to there." At least not very often. A few of Josephine's noble allies required a bit of the act, but normally a few pompous sentences and a cordial bow was all that was needed from her. Josephine did the real work in that quarter.

"Well, I'm just surprised, is all. I know you were raised for the Chantry. It's just not what I expected," he said, warmth of admiration in his voice.

"I don't like it," Elanor confessed in a low voice, careful not to be overheard. "But my father had plans for me to become a Revered Mother, eventually, and they must deal with a great variety of people. I had an Oriesan tutor from the time I was able to talk to teach me the intricacies of the Game. But I never enjoyed it, and," she admitted, "I'm actually not as good as you think. I've been getting tips from Vivienne, Leliana, and Josephine all night."

"Still, it is impressive. You've managed to swing the court in your favor," he said, smiling, the scar on his lip stretching with the motion. "Give me a straight, honest battle any day rather than this."

"Social occasions like these are similar to warfare, just concealed," Elanor countered. "The weapons are words and gestures. Even something as simple as accepting a dance sends a message as surely as a riposte does in a duel."

Cullen huffed. "Maybe, but I'd much rather have a sword in hand and a bare face."

Elanor allowed herself to touch his gloved hand with her own. "And I as well, Cullen."

He straightened, looking over her shoulder. "I think Grand Duchess Florianne is coming to speak with you."

Elanor schooled her face, even though it was hidden underneath her mask. "Salute, parry, riposte," she said softly, for Cullen's ear's only, and turned, dipping her head in polite greeting. "Grand Duchess! You honor me with your company..."