Chapter Text
The Denerim Palace was always eerily quiet at night, and there was no way Naelis could possibly get used to it. The long halls could carry an echo, but there was hardly anyone save for the occasional guard or servant to make a noise.
On the nights that the palace was filled to the brim, it was full of a mirth and laughter that she could understand, but still felt like an outsider to. Sure - she was a revered hero to the people of Ferelden for slaying the Archdemon over a year prior, but this wasn’t her world even if she pretended it to be. Stone walls and remaining in one place just wasn’t what she was made for.
And yet, Naelis was there in one of the several smaller rooms, keeping a careful eye on Alistair as he was instructed yet again for the proper foot placement to lead an Orlesian dance. She was unceremoniously draped on one of the lounges watching as his teacher let out a frustrated (and overly dramatic) sigh when Alistair stepped on his foot again.
“Your Majesty,” came his huffy Orlesian accent that Naelis had nearly picked apart within an hour of boredom, “With all due respect, the Empress of Orlais will not take kindly to losing a toe.”
“She’s lucky I have no intention of trying to take one off of her. I have plenty.”
The instructor shook his head in a sigh. “Again. Carefully this time.”
Empress Celene of Orlais had invited the both of them to Halamshiral to commemorate the end of the Fifth Blight. She invited more than just the two of them, but all of their friends had politely declined for various reasons, some of which had Naelis absolutely envious. Zevran was dismantling the Crows, Sten was doing whatever Qunari do that they can share, Leliana was busy with assisting the Divine - all plausible reasons and not even the tip of the iceberg with all of her companions. Even Barkspawn was away and wouldn’t be back for some time.
“No slouching,” the instructor sniped. Naelis refrained from scowling but continued to watch from her horizontal position on the lounge.
“To be fair, you haven’t exactly given her anything to do,” Alistair remarked from his odd dancing posture. A smirk rose on her face when their eyes met and he winked.
“Lady Mahariel will have the important role of observing the dancing. She is the reason that the Empress has thrown the soiree, and for her to participate would be an insult.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Naelis sighed with an edge of frustration. “None of what you say makes any sense.”
“I do not make the rules, my lady. I simply relay them to those who do not understand.”
Alistair met her look again, and it was very apparent that he felt somewhat sorry for her by giving her a sheepish smile. She returned it half-heartedly. She didn’t exactly want to dance, but she was bored and restless. It would only be a few short weeks until they decided to stick her in either a dress or armor, and shipped her off to a country that would insult her based off if she spoke too much or too little, and deem her insufferable if she didn’t speak at all.
A few more attempts later and the instructor bid the pair of them a good evening, hobbling out of the room to surely prop his feet up after Alistair stepped on them almost on purpose. It amused her somewhat - she knew he had gotten the dance down completely, but to rile up someone who annoyed the both of them was just a perk.
Naelis got up after the man left and shoot her head, a ghost of a smile on her lips. “You just like to be difficult.”
“Me? Difficult?” He feigned insult. “Why, I’m hurt you think that, my lady.”
She rolled her eyes. “Of course, how foolish of me. Please accept my apologies, your Majesty. I am but a humble woman, who knows not what she says.”
He was grinning now. “You looked about ready to show me the proper dance if he was here any longer.”
“Maybe I was,” she remarked as she made her way over to his side, a careful hand running down his arm. “I’m sure it wasn’t that difficult.”
“I could show you.”
She cocked an eyebrow at him, searching his face for any sign that it was a joke. He looked serious enough however. “Very funny.”
“I’m serious!” His face broke out into his classical, charming grin again as he grasped her hands. There was a sense of alarm as she was positioned and stepped towards with no hesitation on his part.
“Don’t step on my foot.” She tried to be stern with him, but it was apparent he refused to listen. She was forced to take a step back to accompany his dance, and he led her through the steps at his own pace.
She scowled, earning a cheeky smirk from her lover. The steps were easy enough even for an Orlesian dance, and the smooth waltz had almost a calming effect.
It wasn’t long before she found her head against his chest, each step unplanned as they danced around the room to their own harmony. She could feel his thumb running over her knuckles as he wound her around again, and she found herself smiling.
“A shame they won’t let you dance,” Alistair murmured. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
“I have the only dance partner I need right here.”