13 Wintersend, 9:42
Antonia looked in the mirror with dissatisfaction. While she yielded to the logic of Josephine and Leliana's decision, this uniform did nothing for her. With her short hair and narrow build, she looked vaguely masculine, and the uniform wasn't tailored to her frame as well as it might have been, leaving her looking bulky in all the wrong places. She had taken care with her makeup, but that only went so far. She reminded herself that this was a working ball, and it didn't matter if she didn't look pretty ... but she'd be in a ballroom with a number of women whose job was to be beautiful and feminine and attractive. And so would Cullen.
"Argh," she said softly to the Antonia in the mirror, who appeared to agree with that assessment. There was nothing for it, though—Leliana had timed their entrance precisely, so she had to go right now.
In the foyer, Antonia was perversely pleased to see that the uniform didn't do much for Josephine, either, fitting the ambassador's curves as awkwardly as it fit Antonia's angles. And Varric looked downright silly. Dorian carried it off with panache, as he did everything he wore, and Cassandra was suited to the severe look and appeared almost comfortable. Leliana, when she entered the room, seemed to have used a different tailor, because the uniform actually seemed to accentuate her curves. Or perhaps that was an effect of the unusual sparkle in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks. This was Leliana's element, and she looked it.
Although right now what she mostly looked was irritated, as they were all waiting for Cullen. Just as she was about to go upstairs, he appeared through the front door.
"Are you all ready? I've been checking the carriages; all seems to be in order." All eyes turned to him, and Antonia's jaw dropped. "What?" he said, faintly defensively. "Yes, I know, the jacket's too tight, and I look ridiculous. Must you all stare?"
"Ridiculous?" Antonia said faintly. "Oh, yes, that's the word I was going for. Josephine, would you have said ridiculous?"
"Oh, absolutely. Ridiculous. So ridiculous women will be fainting in the aisles." Josephine fanned herself.
He looked bloody gorgeous, was how he looked. His uniform was tailored just a shade too tight to be impeccable, but tight in all the right places—across the shoulders, and around the curve of his rear end, and along his muscular legs, making him look even bigger and more powerfully built than he was. His natural military bearing only increased the impression. Antonia had to tip her hat to Leliana, who had to be behind this. Cullen would draw the eye of women used to the effete fops of Orlais like a brilliant flower drew bees.
Antonia wanted to kill them all already.
Meanwhile, Cullen was looking at her and at Josephine like they were crazy.
"My dear Commander," Dorian said, ogling in his turn, "you actually meant the word 'ridiculous', in its standard definition. I believe what the ladies mean by 'ridiculous' is that the women at the ball are going to want to rip that uniform right off you. With their teeth. Don't you think so, Antonia dear?"
"Something like that, Dorian, my sweet," she bit off. This was going to be an exceptionally long night.
"Oh." Cullen wasn't entirely sure how to take that, she could tell, but there was a certain lift to his shoulders that said he didn't mind the attention.
"And you will be charming, won't you, Cullen?" Leliana said.
"As charming as I can be, Leliana. I promise."
She looked him up and down. "Or you could simply stand there and not talk. That might work, too."
He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, avoiding Antonia's eyes altogether. "I really am not going to enjoy this, am I?"
"We are not here for enjoyment," Cassandra snapped. "Can we go?"
"Indeed."
Leliana led the way, taking Josephine and Antonia and Cassandra in her carriage and leaving the three men to come after them. Neatly keeping Antonia away from Cullen in the process, which was probably a good idea, Antonia had to admit, because she would have been strongly tempted to attack him right there in the carriage.
They were an instant sensation at the Winter Palace, everyone staring at them as they came in. Duke Gaspard, who was attempting to wrest the throne from Empress Celene, was particularly attentive to Antonia, and she found him amusing, so a modest bit of flirting was easy. She was glad to see that the years she had spent at these types of events in the Free Marches hadn't been wasted—she was able to slip back into the role of Bann Trevelyan's daughter without too much trouble, with the added fillip of the authority of the Inquisition behind her.
She entered the ballroom on the Duke's arm, making a commotion amongst the assemblage. And then came the interminable introductions, although she had to admit that they all sounded quite impressive. She was glad she had brought the people she had—there were gasps and whispers at each fresh name, and together they made the Inquisition sound both Thedas-wide and quite powerful.
Celene made a gracious speech, and then it was off to the real business of the ball—the Game. Antonia didn't expect to excel at the Game, but then, no one else really expected her to, either, so anything she did in that line was likely to pay off.
She made her rounds dutifully, listening more than she talked. It was what she was good at, listening to people, but here there was so much being said that wasn't actually said ... it was exhausting. And the sheer number of intrigues! Antonia hoped Leliana was on top of things, because she herself felt utterly lost in a sea of glittering masks and hidden faces.
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A Candle in the Darkness (A Dragon Age: Inquisition fanfiction)
FanficNo one can save the world alone. As Antonia Trevelyan struggles to find the courage to be the hero the Inquisition needs, Cullen fights the darkness of his past and present. Together, can they be the light against the shadow that threatens to swallo...