Usually, Sera just snuck in through the window. It was simpler to get to Herah's rooms that way, letting her bypass all the boring tits who liked to flock around the main hall of Skyhold and get straight to the better parts of her visit. Like tits. This time, though, Herah had promised her that if she took the stairs, she'd have a surprise waiting for her when she arrived.

Unfortunately, however, the sexy qunari was nowhere to be seen. "Buckles?", she called out, "You here?"

She was trying to decide if this was the start of a really lame prank or maybe a really good one when, from behind a closed door, she heard the sound of her lover's frustrated grunt. "Sera? Sorry, I'll just be a minute. I thought I'd be ready by now but this thing is way too complicated. Totally ruining my plan to make a smooth entrance."

Sera scrunched her nose up in confusion and hopped on the large bed, amusing herself by seeing how high she could toss one of the pillows without actually hitting the ceiling. "You know, if you're naked, you don't have to worry about all that entrance stuff," she offered. "You could tumble in here falling on your horns and you'd still look bloody great."

"I appreciate the compliment, but naked gymnastics weren't exactly what I had in mind," Herah replied, her words followed by a satisfied snort. "There. Got it."

The door opened and Sera's jaw dropped, the pillow landing on her head with a soft thud and then falling on the floor as she starred. Instead of her usual tan outfit, the Inquisitor was wearing a uniform of bright red and dull yellow, with a striking blue sash cutting diagonally across her chest and wrapping around her waist. "Uh, wow," the elf mumbled, "That's, um, yeah, real nice…"

Herah smiled mischievously. "You like it? And here I was worried you'd tell me I look like one of those noble pricks you always love to complain about."

"Well, um, you do, sort of," she said, hemming and hawing furiously, "But it's different, yeah? Because you're you, and not one of them, and uh, because you look much better than they would."

"I'm glad you feel that way, because I have one of these for you too."

"Oh, no," she protested. "Okay for you, all right, cause you're the bleeding Herald and such, but not for me. No way."

"Hey, it was that or the dresses."

Her expression dropped even further. "Dresses?"

"Yup, dresses. Listen, Sera, we have to fit in at the Winter Palace, and according to Leliana, who ought to know, that gives us two choices. We either wear the uniforms, or we have to go full Orleasian high fashion: dresses, masks, jewelry, all of it. Do you want that?"

She slumped her shoulders, admitting defeat. "Hell no."

"Then it's the uniform for you. It's not that bad really, at least once you get the hang of the sash. That thing's a bitch and a half. Unless…" The Inquisitor bit her lip, a small gesture Sera found she could never take her eyes off of. "Unless you think you could pass for one of the palace servants. It could have its advantages having someone working for us behind the scenes."

She shook her head. "Wouldn't work. Big people don't see the servants, but they all see each other. Never pass if I didn't belong. Plus, I'd have to curtsy and bow and act like I liked all those stupid tits. Not going to do that, so uniforms it is."

"You don't have to come, you know."

"Bugger that," she declared. "Not leaving you alone with those people."

Her lover leaned down and gave her a long kiss. "Aw, thanks. Besides, look on the bright side. Vivian and Dorian have both been begging me to make you do something with your hair." Her eyes widened, but Herah assured her, "Don't worry, I told them no way. They may make us dress like nobles, but we have to draw the line somewhere Otherwise, next thing you know, we'll be worrying about lace pattern or some other nonsense like that."

"Can't have that, Buckles," she agreed. "Now come on. That uniform makes me want to get you right back out of it."

"Sounds like fun. But Sera," Herah cautioned her, "Please be careful when you do. Josephine will kill us both if you rip anything."

"Well, don't you look darling, Josie?"

The Antivan beauty gave her friend an rueful smile. "You are too kind, Leliana, but I really don't think the uniform suits me very well. I am much more comfortable in a dress."

Once, she might have shared that sentiment, but long years and myriad duties had taught Leliana to make the best of a dizzying variety of garbs. "It will be fine," she reassured Josephine, before adding, "Besides, did you really want to have to find court clothes for some of the members of our little group?"

"No, you are right," Josephine conceded. "It was hard enough getting the shoulders on Iron Bull's uniform to fit properly; I hate to think what would've been involved in decking him out more fully. We're fortunate that even the uniforms could be delivered before we had to depart for the Winter Palace. Still, it has been some time since I attended a grand fete such as this one. I would have liked to go in style."

Leliana tugged on the sleeves of her own uniform, adjusting the fit to cover for a deeper discomfort. "I know what you mean. The thought of attending a masquerade at Halamshiral does make me feel a bit like an innocent young bard once more, thrilled by the glamour of it all."

A knowing smile appeared on Josephine's face. "Then why do I hear a hint of regret in your voice?"

"Because," she explained, silently chastising herself for failing to keep her emotions better concealed, "It reminds me of other things as well. Affairs that did not go as I wished them to,"

The Landsmeet might have been a gathering of nobles, but its proceedings were far removed from the elegant dance of Orlesian court intrigue, What had begun as a cacophony of raised voices and angry accusations was now ending as a duel. Nissa of the Grey Wardens and Teyrn Loghain of Gwaren starred daggers at each other, waiting for the signal to begin their battle.

Under other circumstances, it might have been an inspiring sight, one worthy of song. The two combatants were garbed more similarly than most would have expected, given that one of them was a mage and the other a renowned swordsman. Of late her beloved had been studying some arcane battle art they had learned of in an elven ruin and Nissa had exchanged her robes for a glittering suit of Juggernaut armor, a fair match for Loghain's own plate mail. Leliana, however, was far too nervous to appreciate the spectacle. It always tried the nerves to go into battle beside the one she loved, but this, being forced to watch but unable to help, was nearly unbearable.

Josephine placed a hand on the bard's shoulder. "You're thinking of the warden again, aren't you? You always get that same, distant look in your eyes when you do."

"You must think me a fool," she told her friend. "To hold onto the dream of her, when she has been gone for so long does not exactly demonstrate the realism my job requires."

The Antivan smiled. "No, I think you are a romantic. The hardened spymaster waiting for her lost love to return to her… It would make a fine tale for any bard to spin."

She shook her head. "The Inquisitor and I sent her a letter after Adamant Fortress, warning her of Corypheus' designs on the order, but I still have heard nothing in return. My agents assure me that they delivered the message to her wardens, but they cannot guarantee that she will receive it. Or that she is even still alive." Her voice was calm as she said the words, but her demeanor hid her fear. As hard as it had been to watch Nissa fight Loghain, this, waiting without knowing anything, was even worse.

"I believe she will come back to you," Josephine offered, at least trying to project certainty. "Surely, the Maker cannot mean for a story such as yours to have such a dismal ending."

"Don't leave like this," she urged Alistair, her hand taking hold of an armored sleeve before he could complete his exodus from the hall. Nissa was too busy dealing with Anonra and the rest of the Landsmeet to run after him, and too proud even if she had the time, but Leliana had to make one last attempt. For months, he had been an integral part of their band of warriors, Nissa's friend even before Leliana met her, and she couldn't bear to see him leave like this.

"No," he snapped, rage filling his normally friendly voice, "Nissa made her choice and she chose that murdering asshole over me. She's going to let him become a warden when she should've cut his damned head off."

"She was condemned once too" she pleaded, trying to make him see things from her beloved's perspective, "And Duncan gave her another chance."

"And Loghain killed Duncan. How can she let him walk away from that?"

"She's not. This is not a pardon. It is…"

Alistair did not let her say more, violently wrenching his arm out of her grasp and storming out of the hall without so much as another word. The bastard boy with royal blood in his veins hadn't become king, but instead a worthless drunk, at least if the reports she'd received were to be believed. Life was not one of those stories that another, far more naïve girl had delighted in telling her lover around their campfires at night, and there was no guarantee that there would be a happy ending for her and her warden any more than there had been for Alistair.

Leliana removed Josephine's hand from her shoulder gently but firmly. "The Maker will do as He wills," she told her, "And I have far too much work of my own to do before the ball to waste time speculating about what that might be."

No smut this time, but if you're interested, I did recently post a very dirty Celene/Briala story, "I Bet the Hate Made It Feel Real Good." Otherwise, hope you liked this; plenty more to come before the end.