Chapter Text
It wasn't that Ariadne hated the dresses. She loved trying on clothes and stealing Lanie's gowns, back before she got married off to some handsome noble. It was more that everyone was inspecting her clothes and watching her every move. That tended to sap the joy from things. Too many unfamiliar people whose entire opinions were influenced by the way she looked. Too many judgemental stares which would be applied to the Inquisition.
The Inquisition needed someone better than her. Ariadne wished she had the poise Lanie had. Or Maxwell's sharp intuition. Ophelia would never let her have her confidence either, but she wished for it anyway. She didn't want the twins' magic, that probably wouldn't help her with the whole "I am representing a slightly heretical movement to the Orlesian Nobility and possibly tarnishing my family's relationship to the Chantry" ordeal. Actually, that would benefit her family. Instead the Inquisition was stuck with Ariadne who hated the limelight and struggled with the idea that she had the one thing which could close the Breach. She would just have to make do.
Part of making-do involved selecting a dress for Halamshiral. Such a decision required Dorian, Josephine, and Vivienne, all gathered at her behest, as her selected fashion council. Before the fashion show could commence, the tailor needed to arrive. Her friends arrived a few minutes early, or perhaps the tailor was a few minutes late. "Josephine, we really need to set a dress code. Every time I see a Fereldan noble, I'm convinced a fur rug has risen from the dead to exact its vengeance," complained Dorian, idly kicking his feet over the armrest of a plush seat.
"Dorian, darling, you can comment once you wear something with a sensible amount of buckles," interjected Vivienne, removing a stray hair that had drifted onto her top.
Josephine giggled behind a perfectly manicured hand. Ariadne was greatly intrigued by how she always managed to look calm and in control, even when dealing with stuck-up nobles. Even Mother struggled with that. Today she wore a beautiful teal version of her traditional golden apparel. Its golden accents matched her skin's undertones and made the teal satin look all the richer. A matching teal ribbon held up her hair. It was truly unfair how beautiful Josephine was. Most days she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be Josephine or wished she could kiss her. "My dear Vivienne, if we did that no one would recognise the dread Tevinter mage the Inquisitor keeps in her entourage," Josephine teased.
"Everyone knows I only keep Dorian around for his dashing good looks," Ariadne quipped.
Before Dorian could voice his rebuttal, someone knocked at her door. She raised her voice to welcome them in. It was the tailor with a rack of dresses and boxes of shoes. "So it begins. Get along for the next hour and I'll treat you to lunch," she declared.
Trying on the dresses was fun. Choosing just one was truly difficult work because each was beautifully made. The committee she had assembled helped her identify her best options. The four favourites were floor length dresses, each of a unique cut and style. Many of the previous dresses needed to be rejected for being too subtle, too simple, or just the wrong colour for her dark skin.
The dress she ended up choosing was saved by being one of Josephine’s favourites. She’d be lying if she said she kept it mostly because of how the ambassador looked at her. The perfect dress ended up being a ruffled red dress accompanied by a white chemise and decorative stays. The outer skirts easily came off to facilitate an easy change into her armour. The red fabric would hopefully hide any errant stains that decided to… add new decorations to her dress, so to say.
"Darling, which dress do you feel best to move in? We need you dancing and probably fighting throughout the evening," Vivienne suggested as they were debating the merits of each dress. Of course, this eliminated two of the remaining four. The sage green dress required too many layers, and she wasn't sure she could squeeze her armour over it nor would it come off easily. The lavender one had too few layers, and it would be nigh impossible to hide anything in it. So they were summarily rejected, in favour of the red dress which felt the least restrictive.
Now that she had a dress, she needed to get used to it. Even though she was a noble, she got hand-me-downs because children grew too fast for her parents to really care about her clothing preferences. Ariadne also lacked variety in fashion when her parents finally sent her to the chantry. So having something fine just for herself was novel. As far as the Inquisition was concerned, she was practising for Halamshiral, moving around in a dress. In reality, Ariadne was enjoying feeling pretty and considering that maybe dresses could be nice.
There were also changes in Skyhold. A strange number of soldiers were relocated to places like the Hissing Wastes and the Fallow Mire. It took her a while to get a straight answer out of someone, but eventually Krem explained that soldiers found mocking her femininity were being reassigned. However, she wasn’t able to discern just how Cullen knew who to reassign.
Josephine was also spending more time at Ariadne’s side, instructing her on Orlesian manners and how to navigate the Game. She also spent an inordinate amount of time informing the minor nobility that the Inquisitor wasn’t seeking a partner at this time. Leliana left a dossier of important names and topics on her desk, alongside a draft of a letter from Josephine rejecting a marriage proposal on Ariadne’s behalf. There were many words crossed out, implicating that the Inquisitor was already taken.
Apparently, Josephine’s sister had the same idea. Even though her evening was spent dazzling the nobility at Halamshiral (despite her rough manners), meeting Yvette was the highlight of the evening. Ariadne saw a bit of her younger self, bright-eyed and enamoured of the world. So when she asked about some plan to elope with Josephine to the Anderfels, of course Ariadne told Yvette that the bags were already packed. Yvette also gave Ari a bit of insight into her sister: Josephine still had dolls she played with. The Inquisitor found it sickeningly sweet that Josephine still took the time to ensure her dolls could still live their small lives. That was so terribly Josephine.
After an evening of intrigue, assassinations, and fighting for her life, she placed Celene and Briala on the throne. All she wanted was to get off her feet and rest on her laurels. But she knew that there were still goodbyes to say, and one last dance she wanted to have. Decorated in Inquisition finery, a red coat emblazoned with their golden symbol, Josephine was a vision. Her ruffled white shirt and navy waistcoat made her irresistible. Ariadne led Josephine in a slow dance on the balcony, enjoying the closeness of their bodies. Lady Montilyet’s white velvet gloves were the only thing preventing skin on skin contact.
They started by exchanging pleasantries about the events of the evening. Then, Josephine began complaining about her sister. "You really had to tell Yvette we're running away together," Josephine whined. “She’s going to tell my whole family.”
A smirk weaselled its way across Ari’s face. "Of course. I'm ready to abandon the Inquisition with my most trusted advisor and become a Grey Warden. They won't notice we're missing till we're halfway there," she teased. "She’ll be so inspired by our love that she’ll complete an art piece about us."
Josephine sighed heavily and shook her head. "I pay for her tuition, and for what? I haven't seen a painting, much less a sketch out of her yet," she grumbled. Josephine’s grip on her shoulder tightened, a controlled exhale leaving her lips.
Ari squeezed Josephine's waist. "She’ll get there. If I accidentally became the Herald of Andraste, surely she can manage one painting" she affirmed. If Ari's demeanour didn't upset the court, it seemed there was hope out there for youngest daughters everywhere. Even those who were tossed to the Chantry.
"My dear ambassador, I must excuse myself. I am going to my guest rooms to collapse into my bed dramatically and sleep like the dead," she announced. With a sultry smile, she took the hand she was holding during their dance and kissed Josephine's knuckles. "We should do this again sometime. Rest well."
Ariadne didn't see Lady Montiliyet's blush, nor did she hear the soft argument Josephine had with Leliana about the dance. Instead, she admired her looks in the mirror and carefully folded the dress for tomorrow's return to Skyhold.