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Slow Burning Dreamer	By : Breathing2nd Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3692 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Age, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-Nine
- 10-Ten
- 11-Eleven
- 12-Twelve
- 13-Thirteen
- 14-Fourteen
- 15-Fifteen
- 16-Sixteen
- 17-Seventeen
- 9
- 10
- 11
“Oh Inquisitor, it’s simply stunning.” Josephine was smiling wistfully. Like she was watching some epic romance play out in front of her eyes.
"Isala. Josephine, please, at least for tonight, can we have names and not titles between us?” The Dalish elf corrected for what felt like the thousandth time.
“Ah, very well. As you wish, Isala.” The Antivan enunciated her name with perfect clarity. She was sitting at the foot of her bed along with Leliana while Vivienne fretted at the bustle of the gown. The dress had needed only minor adjustments and the seamstress had made quick work of the changes during the day. Isala was almost glad Vivienne had insisted she try the garment on that morning. It fit like a glove now.
"I still believe we could take it in a bit more at the hip.” Vivienne critiqued as she smoothed out the folds of rich fabric.
Isala glanced down at the garment and smiled. “I believe if it were taken in any further, it would be stitched to my body.” As it was, the gown looked to be a marvel of both Orlesian and elven ingenuity. The main body of the dress was white, but there was so little of the pale fabric exposed to plain view it was difficult to tell. The skirts were cut in a handkerchief style with a shorter portion ending at the middle of the Inquisitor’s thigh, while the longest hem came to a point between the slopes of her calves. The bodice scalloped up and around her neck in a mock collar that framed the slender column of her throat. There was a bustle made of two layers. Crafted in dales loden wool, the first ended just above her knees and the second trailed behind her like a whimsical train. Embroidery in rich blue had been stitched by hand into the body of the gown in a pattern that was decidedly Dalish. Gems of opal and mother of pearl and the occasional sapphire sparkled and glinted in almost any light the dress encountered. They had been woven directly into the intricate embroidery and made the gown a work of pure art.
“Are you pleased with the shoes?” Leliana asked of the elven design. Isala glanced down and wiggled her exposed toes. Apparently, her Spymaster was rather fond of shoes herself and had been in charge of acquiring the lavish footwear. The pale, almost white leather was buttery soft and wrapped smoothly around the whole of her calves. It was simple and modeled after some of the elven armor her hunters wore. There was a very small sole at the arch of the foot that collected the shoe, but otherwise left the ball of the foot and heel exposed.
“Oh, very much, thank you Leliana.” The Inquisitor glanced around the room at all the ladies that had been so instrumental in getting her ready for the ball. “Thank all of you. If it had been up to me I might have shown up in pajamas.”
“We know dear. Why do you think we went to so much trouble to ensure you didn’t dress yourself?” Vivienne teased.
Josephine stood. “And now for the final touch.” She said, picking up a colorfully wrapped box that had been sitting next to her. The Ambassador brought the gift to the elven mage and placed it in her gloved hands. Isala stared down at the box she held. It felt strange with the gloves on. Normally, she wouldn’t have been comfortable covering her fingers. It was as foreign to her as covering her toes, but the gloves were full and made of the softest material she’d ever felt. They were light and delicately embroidered to match, covering the length of her arm up past her elbows.
“What’s this? Another gift? Really, the gown and shoes and the ball, it’s really more than enough.” The Inquisitor hadn’t even wanted to celebrate, let alone do something so lavish, but it seemed to make so many happy and Josephine had seen it as a chance to make more allies among the nobility. Isala couldn’t argue with the Antivan’s logic. Still, she wasn’t used to getting gifts and they had already done too much.
Josephine smiled. “Consider it an extension of your gown then. It would be incomplete without this.”
The Dalish elf looked down at the box once more and made a face. This was not an argument she was likely to win and she knew it. Isala pulled at one of the silken ribbons and slid the cover free from the gift. She gasped as the contents came fully into view.
A mask lay nestled in a fold of velvet within the box. It stared back up at the Inquisitor and Isala found herself nervous to touch the delicate accessory. It looked to only be a half mask. Meant to mostly cover the eyes and a hint of the nose. The mask seemed cut from metal yet was as pale and luminous as a pearl. The swirls and etching matched that of the embroidery on her dress and she could make out the shimmer of similar jewels around the eyes and curling into what appeared to be twisting horns winding back into the head of the mask.
She reached in and removed the mask, finding it was light yet sturdy, even if it had the appearance of supple lace. She stared at it for several heartbeats, marveling at its intricate design when Leliana spoke up.
“A halla.” She had moved from her position at the foot of the bed. “We thought it an appropriate match for your vallaslin.”
“Yes, thank you. It’s beautiful.” Isala murmured. It was true, her vallaslin, though a ghost of a thing across her chin and forehead, marked the mother of the halla, Ghilan’nain as her patron.
“Well let’s put it on.” Vivienne suggested, gently taking the mask from the elf’s hand. Isala felt the cool, smooth material caress her skin as the accessory was tied into place around her face. She blinked a few times, checking her peripheral vision through the large eye holes. Josephine and Leliana were grinning like a couple of little girls as they stood in front of her. She felt Vivienne moving back in front of her and even she was smiling. Even the two elven servants near the door were positively beaming.
“Perfection.” Vivienne approved and Isala couldn’t wait anymore. She spun to look at her silhouette in the free standing mirror that had been brought in. For a moment she simple stood there with her lips parted in disbelief. She almost didn’t recognize herself staring back. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done something so intricate with her hair. The little pins and gems woven into the braids at her temples sparkling like a circlet, revealing her pointed ears in all their glory. She certainly had never worn a gown so lovely or possibly at all. She couldn’t even remember if there had ever been an opportunity for such finery among her people. Now she looked like some sort of elven royalty come to life. Like something out of a dream.
“Now then, the guests will all be wearing masks as well. Of course, it is a masquerade. However, we have made sure to remind them that this is something of a celebration and not grounds for political boasting.” Josephine instructed. Isala was still staring into the mirror. “We will of course, do everything in our power to field those conversations, Inquisitor.”
“Yes, our goal is for you to enjoy your evening above all else.” Leliana chimed in. “We do not want you to get stuck talking to some overzealous Bann or Chevalier all night.”
“Oh that shouldn’t be too hard. I shall help to diffuse any distracting socialites myself.” Vivienne offered and both the Spymaster and the Ambassador turned to the enchanter in surprise, though it was Josephine who spoke up.
“Madame de Fer, you are too kind.” Vivienne smiled smugly and gave the Antivan a gentle nod of consideration.
"Are you ready, Inquisitor?” Leliana asked.
The Dalish mage was staring into the mirror. Trying to decide who it was staring back at her. She’d spent so much time fighting, surviving and trying to save the world, she wasn’t sure she could just be a lady for one evening. Creators watch over her. She’d been asking them to call her by her name and not her title but she wasn’t altogether certain she could just be Isala.
She was staring at her gloved hand. The faint green light of the anchor the only indication that could give her away as the Inquisitor. Tonight was for her. Tonight was for Isala. She could just be a woman tonight. She didn’t have to save the world tonight. She felt a kind of giddy delight in that idea. Even as it scared her to death.
“Ready.” She breathed.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Slow Burning Dreamer