It was a dark night in Denerim. The streets of the Market District were quiet, their people long gone home to rest.

However, in a particularly black corner, two men spoke in whispered tones, cloaks held over their faces.

"Are you sure this will work?" one asked in a strong Antivan accent.

The other nodded. "It has taken many years, but Celene finally trusts me more than any other. I'll be able to deliver her to you easily."

"But the Grey Wardens…"

"The Grey Wardens won't know until it's too late," the other man said calmly. "Besides, I intend for them to serve us a special purpose."

"Very well." The Antivan crossed his arms and bowed. "I shall see you when the day comes."

The other man bowed as well. "Maker watch over our ambitions."

With a silent nod, the two men parted into the night, their dark promise hanging in the air.

Rowena blew the hair out of her face, arms held out to her side.

"How much longer?" she whined, trying to scratch the end of her nose by just wriggling it.

"Oh, hold still," Leliana said impatiently. She was busy sticking pins into the gown being molded around Rowena's body. One accidentally poked through the cloth and jabbed into Rowena's flesh.

"OUCH!" Rowena jumped off the stool, shooting her friend a nasty look.

"Well, if you hadn't moved around so much…"

Rowena stuck her tongue out at her. "It's not like I wanted this dress to begin with," she mumbled, flapping her arms uselessly in a sea of fabric. "Remind me why I need it again?"

Wynne, who had been standing at the other side of the room, sighed. "You're the Queen of Ferelden now, Rowena," she said tiredly. "You're expected to make a favorable impression on foreign heads of state."

"Well, then, why can't I just greet Empress Celene with my armor on and a bloodied sword in hand?" Rowena smiled. "I bet that'd impress something on her."

Leliana clutched her head in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you this, Rowena? In Orlais, a female fighter—especially a royal female fighter—is unheard of. The Empress probably never held a sword in her life. She'd never expect you to greet her like that."

"In case you've forgotten, Leli," Rowena said irritably, "I killed an Archdemon about, what, a year ago? I think Celene knows I like to fight by this point."

Leliana blanched. "Do not call her Celene!" she whispered quickly. "You must always refer to her as Her Imperial Majesty!"

Rowena rolled her eyes. "And will she call me My Royal Majesty? Please. The instant I start calling her that, she'll start thinking I feel inferior to her—which, by the way, I most certainly do not."

Leliana opened her mouth to say something, but was promptly cut off by a loud knock on the door.

"Who is it?" Rowena called, thankful for a distraction.

"It's us," a familiar voice sounded back.

"Oh, come in!" Rowena said delightedly.

Wynne and Leliana both gasped loudly. "NO!" they cried, jumping to their feet.

"You can't allow men inside your dressing chamber!" Wynne said indignantly.

"Especially like this!" Leliana said in horror, pointing at the loosely draped silk wrapping around Rowena's body.

"Bah!" Rowena said crossly, gathering up the collected cloth. "It's only Alistair and Eruestan!"

"That doesn't change anything!" Wynne said. "Think about what the Orlesian ladies would say!"

Oh, come off it!" Rowena snapped. "Alistair is my husband—he's seen me in far less clothing than this! And besides, who didn't see each other changing during the Blight? I swear," she said, shaking her head, "one Orlesian says she's coming to visit and both of you up and lose your minds!" She crossed the room and threw open the door irritably, to have a brightly colored costume shoved in her face.

"Well, good morning to you too," she said sardonically, brushing the clothes aside.

Alistair stared at her irritably. "I see Leliana got to you too."

Rowena sighed. "She's in here, don't worry. Morning, Eruestan."

The mage grimaced at her, holding a bundle of brilliant cloth as well.

Alistair stomped over to Leliana and held the outfit under her nose. "Leliana, what is this?" he said hotly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that a trick question?"

He shook the cloth a little. "It has bows, Leliana. The tunic you gave me has bows."

"And ribbons," Eruestan piped up. "Don't forget the ribbons."

"At least you don't have to be a huma—er, a living pincushion," Rowena said, giving an apologetic look to Eruestan. The elf waved it off.

Leliana stared at all of them coolly. "So what if it has bows, and ribbons? It is the height of Orlesian fashion."

"I don't care about Orlesian fashion, Leliana!" Alistair snapped. "I look like a girl in this!"

"Wynne, help me," Leliana said wearily.

Wynne sighed. "Alistair, you've been king for less than a year now. You're 19 years old, you've had no formal training in politics, and your country has just started rebuilding from a terrible Blight. Empress Celene is 30, rules the most powerful nation in Thedas, and has lived and breathed politics since she was a little girl. It's important that you make a good first impression."

He stared at her. "And I'm going to achieve that with bows?"

"Will you leave the bows alone already?" Leliana snapped. "It's not like yours is pink or anything!"

"No, love," Eruestan said calmly, "that's because mine is."

Leliana instantly blushed and suddenly became very interested in the view outside the window.

Eruestan cleared his throat. "I, uh, noticed that the clothes you gave me, along with being a slightly violent shade of pink, have bells sewn into them. Leli, why's that?"

"Oh, look, there's a very cute little bird eating grain out in the courtyard," Leliana said quickly. "Oh, isn't that sweet!"

Rowena stared curiously at the clothes Eruestan held. "Hang on…I think I've seen outfits like those before! Yeah, at Highever, when my father entertained an Orlesian lord! Those were the clothes the…" (she suddenly broke into a very broad, very wicked grin) "…dancers…wore…"

"WHAT?" Eruestan spun around towards Leliana, who was now pressing her face so hard against the glass her skin was becoming distorted. "Explain, please!"

"Oh, don't get so excited," Leliana said loudly over Rowena and Alistair's shouts of laughter. "It's just that Empress Celene probably hasn't seen very many elves outside of her court entertainers, so I thought…"

"Leli," Eruestan said, teeth clenched, "I am not just a servant. I am the Chancellor to the King of Ferelden. I am a mage. I am a Grey Warden. Maker, I killed an Archdemon! I think I rank a little bit higher than a dancer at this point!"

"Oh, pff," she said dismissively, picking up a pin once more; with a sigh, Rowena assumed her position. "You're not actually going to sing or anything. I just don't want to confuse the Empress, that's all."

"Darling, I love you very, very much," Eruestan said sweetly, "but I'm afraid that if you make me wear this I might be forced to kill you."

She smiled. "You're cute."

He crossed his arms.

She sighed. "Fine. Just…wear something appropriate, alright?"

Alistair perked up. "Does that mean…?"

"Fine! Just wear your nice blue tunic!" Leliana snapped.

"Ooo, that makes his eyes stand out so beautifully!" Wynne said appreciatively.

"I know, right?"

"His eyes are always beautiful," Rowena said, a little hurt. Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. "Wait, if they can go, does that mean..."

"NO," Leliana and Wynne said firmly. Leliana picked up another pin and jabbed it through the silk once more, perhaps a little more forcefully than need be.

Rowena sulked, eyebrows furrowed. Being a woman was so unfair sometimes.