[ politely, even a touch ashamed: ] If you are too busy to allow for this frivolity of mine, there is no need to allow me to impose upon your time.

[ she speaks, and then he thinks, ah, and his tone is still remorseful as he address her. ]

I think... that there has been some level of misunderstanding. Very little of that would be appropriate. That level of festival would be appropriate for a noble wedding. To force the whole of the city to participate would be to place what is being done before them, to force them to watch.

[ and the truth: ] I am only being allowed this for a handful of reasons, chiefest among them that I am considered a Rifter by the Chantry authorities, and not an elf. Marriages of this sort are not legal, and to ask the nobles who have declined invitations, let alone the elves to witness that would not do anything for the Inquisition's reputation.

This event cannot have a hint of foreignness to it, and only enough pageantry to flatter Gwenaelle's father's nobility, and the standing of the Inquisition. We could manage, perhaps, some bards, and the distribution of uneaten food to Lowtown, but there is a line here.