Because It's Right

"No," Ennaly said apprehensively. Really, the corset she could live with, as well as the low neckline and narrow waist, and even the white colour was fine, but these ridiculous heeled narrow-toed shoes, she could not.

"Try them," Josephine urged. "They really do finish the outfit."

So, she pulled the silk stockings over her feet and calves, tied the garters below her knees to keep them from rolling down, and slid her feet into the offending white shoes. Finished, she looked up in the mirror. The woman who blinked back was unfamiliar to her. The figure was clad in a white floor-length gown with long sleeves of beautiful white velvet material, trimmed at the cuff and too-low neckline with white fur. It was the last thing a Dalish Elf should wear.

Humans did all things opposite. With her Dalish outfit, the shape of her legs was always visible in the breeches and foot wrappings, while her chest was always covered, for protection, if not modesty. But somewhere, Humans had decided that the sight of a leg was scandalous for ladies, but breasts could be put upon display, lifted higher than their natural position.

Her hair fell in soft curls to her waist, with just two braids at her temples connecting in the back to keep out of her face. She so rarely had her hair loose that it felt strange seeing herself like this. The Dalish certainly didn't have any mirrors large enough to see yourself fully.

She tried to take a step. All normal grace had left her stride, and she could hardly remain upright. If the edge of the sofa hadn't been nearby to grip, she would have plummeted down.

"Not going to happen," Ennaly grunted as she kicked the shoes off. "And really, you don't even see my feet anyway. My toes need to be able to wiggle. I don't know how you can walk."

Josephine understood she had to concede. "Leliana will be devastated."

"About what?" the red-haired woman asked, just entering the room while holding a large, wrapped object. Cassandra followed closely after, the left and right hand of the Divine together.

"Human shoes," Ennaly grunted. She sat down and wrapped her ankles and heels with straps of leather, but the corset made it harder to bend forward. "Can't do it."

"But they were such precious things," Leliana cooed as she picked the abandoned shoes from the floor. "Too small to be my size, what a shame. I remember having a pair just like these, but in soft green." Affectionately, she placed them back in their box.

Ennaly rose, now wearing her preferred footwear. She saw Leliana's eyes dart towards her cleavage. Josephine had done the same when she helped her get dressed. She had never been aware of just how much of their breasts Human women put on display, when she saw the purple lines peeking out above the fur-trimmed neckline. Her Vallaslin was so distinctly non-Human and unexpected that it would likely draw the eye of all.

She remembered the first time she'd set out with Cassandra, Varric and Solas to the Hinterlands. One night, they'd made camp near a small lake, deciding that it was the perfect place to bathe. It was cold, but Ennaly hadn't cared. They had made their fire, tied the horses to the trees, and busied themselves with their own packs.

Ennaly had carefully undressed. The spot where she had put her bedroll was farthest from the lake, so when she was done undressing, she had to pass the others. And then suddenly, three pairs of eyes had been staring at her.

"What?" she'd asked, as confused with their dressed state as they were with her undressed state. "Surely you don't bathe with your clothes on."

"As far as I am aware, it is a rather Dalish custom to bathe together," Solas had said, averting his eyes.

"Oh," she'd replied. Self-conscious about her body for the first time in a setting like this, she'd grabbed a blanket to cover up. "It's just skin. We all have it." Then she realised this might have been the first time Varric or Cassandra had ever seen a naked Elf. Come to think of it, she'd never seen a naked Human woman or Dwarf before either.

"I wasn't aware the marking on your face would also be... elsewhere," Varric had mentioned, but he seemed rather unfazed by her exposure.

"They can be added anywhere, really," Ennaly had replied.

"I believe most Dalish clans limit it to just their face," Solas had said, still looking in the other direction. It was in the time when her Vallaslin still made him frown, and seeing it on her body likely didn't help.

After that moment, she had never just undressed publicly again, and over time, had developed the same shyness over her body that Humans often seemed to have. Only Cassandra had seen her after that, because Humans were weird in that regard. But even when she was dressed, some Humans had a way to objectify her more with clothes on, than other Dalish did without.

And now everybody could see the top of the lines in this gown, and they'd all wonder where they would end. She also understood it was too late to do much about it. There was nothing to it but endure.

"Are you ready?" Cassandra asked with sympathetic apprehension. Out of all the women here, Cassandra seemed least likely to appreciate dressing up.

Posturing is necessary, Solas had said. Well, wasn't that what she was doing here? She doubted if this was what he had in mind, but she might as well play along with the Humans.

She took a last glance at herself in the mirror. The white was supposed to symbolize the snow in Haven, the Avalanche that had enabled their escape, and the purity of mind of an Inquisitor, or so Leliana had proclaimed, but there was another thought gnawing at Ennaly's mind. With her honey-blonde locks loose like this, clad in a white gown, she was reminded of the paintings of Andraste that always hung in Chantries. Her facial features and Vallaslin were certainly Elven, but take those away and she roughly resembled her namesake.

She could only assume it was part of Leliana's plan, and hoped it had the effect she had intended, rather than brand her any more heretical. It was a small consolation that those around here believed in their cause, and believed in her, for she would never have shown this image of herself outside of the castle.

"Ready," Ennaly declared, turning to follow the three Human women.

Soon, she'd be officially named Inquisitor.

It had been a few weeks since they arrived at Skyhold. In the beginning, all they could do was clear rubble and clean to slowly transform the place into a new home. Everyone was eager to help, and the presence of mages greatly sped up the heavy work. Leliana sent out scouts to clear the paths to open trade for desperately needed supplies and get the word around. It was only now that more people trickled in, seeking refuge with the castle, or visiting the destination as a pilgrimage. It could only house so many people, and it wasn't long before the valley outside of the castle was turned into an encampment. Slowly but surely, the castle turned into a grand hub of operations, and the towers gained purpose.

Ennaly had been busy all days and everywhere where she met new people, she had to endure expressions of awe and thanks for how she had saved them at Haven. The story of what truly happened seemed to have grown with a life of its own, so much that she hardly recognized the truth in it. Uncertain at first of how to react, she'd managed to come up with a sort of semi-official nod of the head, paired with a moderately friendly yet dignified smile.

Then, Cassandra approached her and offered her the position of Inquisitor. And what could she do, really? It wasn't all false modesty. Regardless of how she had gained the Anchor, she had used it well. It had managed to close the Breach, and she had faced off with Corypheus and survived. It would be foolish to deny it all, modesty or not, and so she accepted.

The way that Josephine could conjure up a halfway-decent feast could almost be called magical. The Ambassador had also commissioned this tailored outfit, and if Ennaly was to believe it, some seamstresses worked overtime on it to complete it. Ennaly didn't think it necessary, but she trusted those around her.

Glancing at her reflection a final time, she accepted that this was the moment, and she exited the room.

Cullen awaited them near the door and turned around at the sound of it opening. Surprise overtook him as his eyes darted over her figure. "Ennaly, you look..." He was surprised enough to use her real name, instead of whatever epitaph she went by these days.

Ennaly wished the ground would open up and swallow her. Why had she agreed to this parade? It was ridiculous. Once, she might have been thrilled to have Cullen looking at her like he did now, but that time had passed. But would she ever have been comfortable with someone looking at her like that, with some kind of admiration, when she felt so unlike herself?

She almost felt sorry for him. How much easier would it have been, if instead of growing affection for Solas, she had grown affection for Cullen? She couldn't lie to herself, for the look Cullen gave her now showed his feelings. It was cruel that whatever she might have felt for him, had passed.

And now both she and Cullen had to deal with their affection being unrequited.

She had come so close to kissing Solas. She had embraced him, put her damned hand on his cheek, and if he'd only leaned forwards instead of away... He was sharp and observant and must have seen her intention, even if he acted like nothing had happened. Since that moment, he had grown a little more distanced from her, a little more formal, and he'd certainly stopped making wicked remarks. The message was clear.

She'd get over it, eventually. Cullen would too.

"Like the Inquisitor, hopefully," she replied to him as she conjured a smile on her face.

"Uh, yes. Yes, you do," he said, clearing his throat. Leliana released a small titter behind them while Cassandra shot her a sharp look. "Onwards, then?"

She and Cassandra followed Leliana, while Josephine and Cullen remained behind. The spymaster led them up the stairs, and the entire view of the courtyard expanded below them. It was packed with the inhabitants of the castle and Ennaly realised they were looking up towards her. She told herself not to look, and besides, it wasn't easy ascending the stairs with the heavy gown. Not wanting to fall down, she lifted the hem high enough to see the steps.

The sight of her bare toes brought joy and a sense of grounding to her mind. No matter how she was dressed, there was still something Dalish about her.

And as she stood to listen to Leliana's and Cassandra's speeches, a sense of confidence and serenity fell over her. The faces that gazed up at her were all filled with brazen devotion instead of ridicule about her current look. Dorian, Bull, Varric, Solas, and now the strange boy Cole, who had warned them in Haven, stood together and Dorian flashed her his largest grin of encouragement yet.

Ennaly found herself grinning back. And when Leliana offered her the symbolic sword, she found that she didn't mind. She did carry the Anchor on her hand, and she had faced off against Corypheus. And she would do it again, because she cared. To this crowd, it didn't matter that she was Dalish, that she was an Elf and a mage. She was a symbol of hope, and Ennaly would do everything in her power to earn up to that trust.

The sword was mercifully light as she thrust it up towards the skies. "We'll do it because it's right!" she exclaimed, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through her veins. "The Inquisition will fight for all of us!"

And below her, the entire courtyard erupted in cheers.

The dinner that followed was better than anyone had thought possible. Ennaly was placed in a seat of honour, flanked by Leliana and Cassandra at one side, and Cullen and Josephine at the other. The hall was filled to the brim, those having survived Haven getting priority. The others, those that had arrived later, were placed outside between the bonfires. It was a celebration of survival, of new hope, but also of a new goal, a new focus.

After dinner, minstrels sang songs of happiness, of memory of those who hadn't managed to reach Haven, and of hope for a better future. The mages performed a show with magic, recreating the fall of Haven with the Elder One made of fire, being doused by icy magic as the avalanche. Ennaly thought they made it out a lot more heroic than it actually was.

The constant memory of her confrontation with Corypheus wasn't pleasant to Ennaly. She thought she died that night, and it wasn't a feeling she wanted to revisit. The longer the celebration lasted, the more she wished it was over. She was locked in this place of honour, but desired nothing more retreating back to the grand quarters waiting for her upstairs.

But she wanted to meet her friends before that moment, and at the earliest opportunity, she left her seat.

"And there she is, our Lady Inquisitor!" Varric proclaimed when she managed to find her way through the crowd.

Dorian, dressed in an elaborate new suit, held his arms outstretched to enclose her in a hug. "Look at you, you look wonderful!"

"I disagree," Ennaly replied unabashed, but accepted his hug. "No Elf should wear something like this."

"Nonsense, you look pretty," Dorian continued as he parted and observed her. "I know many women back home would kill for a waist like yours."

It was the wrong thing to say to an Elf. She couldn't blame him, for he didn't know, or didn't quite realize the entire problem. Perhaps it was because he didn't see it as attractive, not fancying women himself. Yes, Elves were slimmer than Humans. That made them perversely interesting to them, too, as if she was an exotic replica of a Human instead of being regarded for what she was.

And this dress only made it worse. Josephine and Leliana might have intended her to fit in, but instead, she only stood out, a jarring contrast to the Human body she would never have. She knew there were some who fantasized about being able to wrap their large, manly hands around an Elven waist and see if their fingers would meet. It's been said to her. It'd been done to her.

But it wasn't as if anybody forced her into this dress, even if she came to regret it. Leliana had sketched this image in her mind, and it had entranced Ennaly. It sounded like something from a fairytale with the symbolism of white snow. She'd wanted to be this figure. And when the dress was ready and Josephine helped into it, it was too late to reconsider.

Uncomfortable, she sorely wished she was wearing her own clothes again.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw Solas looking at her. He was the only other Elf among her friends. Surely, he would understand? She turned to him and indeed, the look in his eyes was very different than that in the Human's. There was… something appraising in them, but it was delicate.

The image of his hand on her waist flashed before her eyes, him guiding her in a strange dance around a fire under a star-encrusted sky. All too quickly was it replaced by the image of him pushing her away, just as she was reaching out to kiss him. Why did he look at her now with that appraising look if he didn't like her?

"You, as an Elf, must agree that this is quite ridiculous," she said in his direction, her voice rather sharp.

His eyes darted up to hers, almost alarmed at her suddenly addressing him. "I am unsure if ridiculous is the right word," he said. He almost, but only almost, appeared flustered.

"Oh? Then what word would you use?" Dorian asked him with his eyebrows raised.

Solas raised his eyebrows as well and turned to him, but his expression was unafraid as he was once again his calm and collected self. Then his lip curled in amusement. "Unfashionable," he declared.

Ennaly could do nothing more but laugh at Dorian's perturbed look. "Unfashionable?" the man exclaimed, as if he heard no higher insult. "Do you even know what that word means, Elf, when you're dressed like that?"

Solas was wearing a clean new tunic in his usual style, and unassuming as it was, Ennaly thought he looked more regal than Dorian in his richly decorated coat. She would never let Dorian know, however.

"Please speak up, I cannot hear you over your outfit," Solas said dryly.

Ennaly couldn't stop her laughter. "Nobody told me laughing in a corset hurts. Oh, I needed this. I do feel unfashionable."

Solas turned to her, still a remnant of amusement on his face. "I doubt you needed to be. The symbolics, however, are clear," he continued, ignoring the japes at his own outfit. Ennaly wished she was dressed like him, comfortable and Elf-like.

But she understood the symbolism Solas spoke of and posed herself like Andraste was depicted on the walls of Haven's now-destroyed Chantry. She stood with her back straight, strands of hair before her shoulders and hands slightly extended to the sides, palms forward. "The Herald of Andraste," she declared.

They all looked at her, momentarily speechless. Varric's expression slowly transformed into awe and reverence. "It's... eerily similar, really."

Ennaly shrugged. "If I didn't have my Elven ears and Vallaslin, perhaps."

Bull cleared his throat and pointed at her chest. "So, about that, Boss. What's with those lines? I thought they were only on your face."

With those words, all of their eyes were drawn to her cleavage.

Ennaly sighed with resignation. "Some Dalish clans also apply Vallaslin on our bodies. But sure, why not, let's all stare at my breasts. It's not like everybody's been doing that today."

"Isn't that the point of being dressed like that?" Dorian said, not averting his eyes. "I don't mind people looking at me."

Ennaly sighed again. She supposed Dorian was right. Why else would a woman want to put her assets on display like this? If only she'd realised.

Bull kept staring unapologetically, but Varric and Solas averted their eyes. Then again, they'd already seen everything, so the lines on her body were no mystery to them. "Where does it end?" Bull asked curiously.

As if appearing out of nowhere, Cole started talking. Suddenly, he stood next to Ennaly, in the centre of their little circle, yet none of them had seen him approaching or moved to let him through. How was he here? "In the centre is a knot and the lines fan out, like those framing her face, a facet of faith," he stated.

Everyone turned their eyes to him, unsure if they were startled, intrigued, or irritated. The looks made him shrink, as if he wasn't used to this much attention. "You were all wondering, so I thought to share. Sorry."

Ennaly didn't mind him, but it was a little… disconcerting how he knew exactly how he could describe her Vallaslin. "Can you see through clothing?" she asked apprehensively.

"No, that is impossible," Cole said quietly. "You were thinking about the lines. They give you comfort. You like them. It is like I just... see them there. Does it not work for you like that?"

"Creepy," Bull noted, but Ennaly regarded him fondly. The quiet boy meant well. How can you not be endeared by his compassion? It was certainly a trait she valued, in herself and others alike. Sure, Cole was a little strange, but he reminded her of herself in those early days of the Inquisition, where she still had to learn how to navigate a Human-oriented world. With time, he'd get better, just as she had.

"I'll... I'll be back," Cole said, and with a blink of an eye, he disappeared.

Ennay turned back to the others, and her eyes crossed Solas. He liked Cole too, she knew. She wished she had Cole's ability to understand the emotions of those around him, so she could understand Solas better. She wanted to say something to him, but an unexpected intensity in his eyes made her falter.

Quicker than anyone expected, Cole reappeared in their midst, holding a length of purple material that turned out to be a large scarf. "You don't like the staring eyes, not when you feel so far from yourself," he said. "But you do like purple."

Ennaly had no idea where he had gotten in from, but she accepted the scarf gratefully. "Cole, you are the best, thank you," she said sincerely, and wrapped it around herself. It had the benefit of covering both the neckline, and thus hiding her Vallaslin, and hiding the shape of her waist, so accentuated by the flaring skirts. She'd no longer have to endure staring eyes.

"I am glad to help," Cole said.

Ennaly decided to stay half an hour longer. She was a lot less self-conscious with the scarf wrapped around her, allowing herself to relax and laugh with her friends. She knew she needed this moment. Being named the figurehead of an organization like the Inquisition meant she would be busy, and moments of relaxation might soon become rare.

In the two weeks following the ceremony, as expected, Inquisitor Ennaly Lavellan did not have a lot of time to spare. Befitting her new title, she was given the large room in the highest tower, with many, many steps to lead up but with a magnificent view over the snowy mountains.

If she did have time to spare, she'd often wander to the library to peruse the books. Not in a thousand years could she imagine the knowledge that was written in these, all available for her to read. She only used to have a few books with her clan, as most information was told to her by her Keeper Deshanna, and she in turn would repeat it to her First when she was Keeper, if ever she would be. This treasure trove of knowledge was more than she could dream of, and she would be a fool if she didn't utilise it. When she would return to her clan, the least she could do was bring new tales.

It wasn't perfect, though. She missed the forest and the serenity of a canopy of leaves overhead. But over time, she finally started to understand the concept of a castle. It was another one of those things where Humans did everything opposite. In a Dalish camp, the living area was always busy, people around everywhere, and all faces familiar. If you desired solitude, you had but to step outside of the camp's boundaries, and there would be nobody around, in sight or ear.

But in the castle, it was the other way around. There were people everywhere, too many to be familiar, new faces every day, and the only place you could enjoy solitude, was your private room. She was lucky that hers was spacious enough that she could dance around without prying eyes or the need to sneak off.

She was given a new, beautiful long white dragonskin coat for travelling, but it remained unused. Instead, her most-used clothing were the more formal outfits, though none of those were quite as Human as the silly white dress that was now stuffed at the back of her wardrobe, vowed never to be touched again.

Which did pose a problem. In several weeks, Grand Duchess Florianne would host a grand Ball with the purpose of discussing the end of the civil war. The Empress would be there, together with every Orlesian person of importance. It would be perfect for assassins to strike and perform what she and Dorian had overheard in the cursed future they'd witnessed at Redcliffe, and so Josephine tried to arrange invitations.

And to prepare, Josephine ordered dance lessons and etiquette training, the former of which Ennaly didn't mind too much, the latter of which she despised. But Josephine and Leliana pressed the importance upon her, so she'd comply. Cullen, who had to endure the trainings as well, despised both. At least she had an ally during the lessons where a richly dressed Orlesian taught them how to hold a spoon or the proper way to address a Duke.

Varric left after a few days, claiming he was going to bring back a surprise. Whatever that would be, Cassandra seemed angry in advance. That wasn't as surprising, seeing how those two always seemed to get on each other's back.

Soon, Ennaly longed to get out there again as well, if just to escape from the lessons, the crowded castle, or the visiting nobles wanting her attention. They'd received a letter with an offer of trade from a certain Fairbanks, information in exchange for help. He was situated in the Dales, and that excited Ennaly more than anything else. The offer of information was the perfect excuse to get out again.

She hadn't had much free time to talk to her friends lately, with lessons and duties occupying most of her time. She knew she would find Dorian in the library, but the moment she opened the door to the rotunda, she faltered in her steps.

Solas sat high up on his scaffold, surrounded by paints. Next to his image of the creation of the Breach, he was working on a new one. Central to the new section was a larger-than-life image of a woman in a white dress, one hand outstretched to the side, with green lines in the palm. Still outlined were rays of light emerging from the mark. The other hand held a sword raised up with the Inquisition's eye on the hilt. The face was slightly tilted upwards, still without features, and long strands of hair framing the face, fanning out like sun rays. At the sides of the head, slender Elven ears peeked through the strands of hair.

It was somewhat abstract, certainly, but it was very clearly her.

"So that is why you were looking," Ennaly said in wonder before she realized she had spoken out loud. The details were a perfect match to how she had looked on the day she was declared Inquisitor.

Solas looked behind him and downwards upon hearing her words. "Hello," he said.

"I mean," Ennaly quickly added, embarrassed. "It was clear you hadn't suddenly developed an appreciation for Human fashion."

A chuckle escaped him. "I needed a reference, and I considered it unlikely that you were willing to pose in it here." He smiled, but turned back to finish the strand of hair he was working on before the paint dried. Ennaly took in the full effect. It was only now that she noticed toes peeking out from below the hemline. At least he'd given her that.

"You're right, I wouldn't. It's really beautiful, Solas," she said, stepping closer to the fresco. "You even managed to get the colours perfect." Her skin tone and the hue of her hair matched the dried paint perfectly. Did he have such a good memory of her that he could match it this well?

There was something intimate about the painting. His hands had created the angles of the face, the gentle curve from her breasts to her waist to her hip. She could imagine his fingers tracing those lines on her body, and quickly shook away that thought.

"Thank you," Solas said. "This is the next chapter in the Inquisition's story, after all. It should depict the Inquisitor herself."

"It's odd to see yourself like this," Ennaly continued, still in wonder. "It makes me seem so much more grandstanding than I feel. It's good to feel tall for once."

Solas looked down at her from high up on his scaffold and chuckled.

"Yeah yeah, look down on me, very funny," she chastised. "Just because you're tall for an Elf doesn't mean we all are. But you are a good artist, Solas."

"Thank you. And I am glad you like it," Solas continued, amused. He put his paintbrush down and kept an expectant look on Ennaly, noticing her hesitation. She was considering this painting, and everything that Solas told her from his journeys in the Fade. Certainly, she shouldn't...

"Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

"Well..." she started. "In some weeks, there's the ball I have to attend, and I've had enough of Human fashion. I just wonder what the ancient Elves would have worn to such events. You've seen a lot on your journeys in the Fade. Have you ever seen what the Elves used to wear in the times of Arlathan?"

Solas gazed at her for a few moments, his expression conflicted, before he Fade-stepped next to her with a shimmer in the Veil.

"In the times of Arlathan, Elven nobles would dress themselves in gossamer silks and fine velvets woven with Lyrium, crystals and metals. The magic in the air would reflect like stars upon the surface. Sadly, no weaver today can attempt those lost arts."

His tone was mournful. It was sad, wasn't it? The loss of all that had been. Ennaly tried to picture the effect and it conjured beautiful images. "I wish I could have seen that," she said softly. "Even if the fabrics themselves are lost to time, the shapes might be replicated? It certainly would make me feel better than Human garb. Unless it was very scandalous or weird, that doesn't seem like the best idea."

"I do not consider it scandalous or weird," Solas commented.

"Good," Ennaly sighed in relief. "Well. If... If you have time, perhaps you could sketch something? I would greatly appreciate it."

Her wish for non-Human garb was greater than her embarrassment for asking Solas. The Dalish had no fashion of their own that would be suitable for a ball. The outfits reserved for Dalish festivals would be entirely unsuitable. Josephine and Leliana would probably get into a fit if she suggested anything like it, hand-spun linen, colourful embroidery, and beads. But to be dressed like a true Elven noble… That, they might agree to. And besides, now that she was in a position of power, she felt like she owed something to the Elves in Halamshiral.

It took Solas a second before he answered. "I shall see what I can do."

"Thank you," she said with a smile, before she remembered why she was here. "Right, I came to ask you to join me to the Dales, leaving tomorrow," she said. "There's some problem with larger rifts around, and someone requested our help. I'm asking Dorian and Bull too."

"I think I should be able to finish this today," Solas replied. "And it would be good to get out there again."

"It certainly would be. I need more trees to feel alive." Ennaly couldn't suppress the awe she felt at the destination. "The Dales. I've never been. It's exciting, isn't it?"