"Ah HA, suck it dwarf."
Aarien slammed her cards on the table, an irrepressible grin smeared across her face. Varric looked down at her cards, back to his own hand, then threw his down with a huff.
"I never lost this much in Kirkwall."
She reached forward and scooped the winnings towards her, giggling. Winking at the passing elf she'd startled with her outburst, Aarien set about counting the coins – very slowly, very deliberately.
"Well, when you're locked in a tower for most of you life, you find things to do."
Varric glared at her and muttered under his breath, the mains words being 'Anders' and 'shit'. Lighting his pipe, he sucked it while gathering up the cards with his free hand. They were sat at his usual table in the Grand Hall, but the room was quiet, just a few servants and officials wandering past now and again.
Varric held his pipe in his mouth, freeing his hands to shuffle the deck.
"I'm not letting you get away that easy" he forced through clenched teeth, beginning to deal out once again. Aarien chuckled, picking up a coin and spinning it on the table.
"If you're that desperate to lose more money, who am I to stop you."
He picked up his hand, giving her a sly look once he'd examined his cards. Aarien shook her head and slid hers off the table into her hand, propping her elbows up as she sorted through them. Afternoons like this were bliss – no responsibilities, good company, and fun. Now all that nonsense was through with the big bad Magister, she found herself with more spare time to squander away on card games and such. Albeit that was only sorted a few weeks ago, but she was enjoying the stress-free days and sleep-filled nights. Maker be damned if anyone tried to stop her.
Squinting at him over the top of her cards, she chose two to discard, and picked up replacements. She smirked as Varric watched her closely, still trying to work out her tells and bluffs. Of course he thought he was unreadable, but she'd noticed he chewed his pipe when the hand was good, and put it down when it was bad. Not that she'd ever tell him of course, she liked winning.
"I thought mages were all in each others pants at the Circles, not playing cards."
He discarded one and took another, raising an eyebrow that was too blatantly an attempt at misdirection. His pipe went down on the table. Aarien rolled her eyes.
"Of course, giant orgies every day. It was the down time between sessions that we played cards."
Scrutinising her hand, she decided to stick, sliding half of the coins she had across the table to rest between them. Varric whistled, then glared at her. Fishing more gold from his pocket, he matched her bet. He spread his cards out face-up, grinning.
"I'll take my money back now."
Aarien leant forward, nodding appreciatively before sitting back again. She put on the farce of looking worried, before slamming her hand down once again.
"Read 'em and weep."
Varric looked at her cards, before groaning and dropping his forehead onto the table. Pushing her chair back, Aarien jumped up and did a jig on the spot, clapping her hands with glee. The guards stationed by the door tried hard not to laugh as she did so, staring very intently forward. One of them still managed to snort.
"I'm never playing cards with you again."
Reaching for his ale, he swallowed it in one as he watched her grab the coins by the fistful, placing them into a pouch. Aarien reached an arm round him, half-hugging as she kissed him on the head. Grumbling he waved her away.
"Don't worry, I'll buy you lots of drinks later."
She held up the full purse and jangled it in front of him, waggling her eyebrows.
"You mean I'll be buying myself lots of drinks later."
Shaking his head, he winked at her and cracked a smile. He then stood, stretched, and picked up his tankard.
"I'll go lick my wounds. Looks like you're wanted elsewhere."
He gestured behind her. Turning, she saw Josephine walking towards them from the direction of her chamber. There was a purpose to her step, and a determined expression on her face.
"Crap." Aarien mumbled under her breath. Josie only got that look when she was planning something. Turning back to Varric, she found him already disappearing through the library door. Bastard. Tucking the bulging pouch into her waistband, she faced Josephine with a smile.
"Inquisitor, there you are. I'm calling everyone together for a meeting in the war room."
Josephine halted in front of her, holding her board and candle up as she continued to write notes, not looking up at all. That thing was glued to her hand, Aarien just knew it. Sera had put something on the back of it for sure.
"Do you think it should still be called a war room? Now the war part is over? How about 'mild skirmish room'? 'Slight misdeed room'? Ooo, or 'bad decision room'? Multiple meaning, that one."
The glare over the top of the board answered that question.
"How about 'political nonsense room'?"
Cullen appeared beside them. Aarien turned to grin at him, who, smirking back, had the slight flush in his cheeks of someone who had run over from his tower. Chuckling, she leant over to peck him on the cheek, deepening his colour even further. He coughed, and looked embarrassed.
"What, there's no one here. Josie's making love to her notes, Varric's gone, the guards already saw me dance today, they're good -"
Cullen chuckled and shook his head, stifling a laugh as Josephine turned his glare on him. Rubbing his hand over his stubble, he turned to Aarien, questioning look on his face.
"Varric was here?"
"Oh ho yes, and I took all his money."
She patted the pouch on her hip, jangling slightly. He looked to the bulge in her waistband and nodded approvingly. The way his eyes lingered on her body, and dragged unashamedly over her form made her distinctly try to remember that she had, indeed, put clothes on this morning. Their gaze met, his honey eyes with a mischievous glint, and she felt herself reddening slightly.
"I'm surprised he even plays with you any more, he won't go anywhere near Josephine."
Ah yes, that glorious evening where Cullen had run off stark naked to the barracks, the candle-light glinting on his -
"Stop that, I know what you're thinking about, and no, it's not happening again."
Aarien, broken from dreamy reverie, bit her lip as she smiled at him, noticing how he was suddenly a lot closer. Josephine continued to scribble, completely oblivious.
"Hmm, if you say so. In the case of Varric, well, no one else will play with him. He gets to practice, I get his money"
Their arms were touching now, and she could smell the sharp metal tang of his armour. Those lips, that scar, curling into a coy smile that seemed to fill up her vision. Words sounded in the distance. Someone was talking. Cullen was talking.
"Hmm?"
Aarien broke herself from the trance, raising her eyebrows questioningly as she dragged her eyes up from his mouth to his amused gaze. Not that that was much better. Cullen softly chuckled, and pointed.
"I said, we should follow Josephine."
"Wha -"
Turning, she saw Josie striding away, already halfway across the the room. Letting out a small cough and with an apologetic smile, she reluctantly stepped away from him, following in the ambassador's wake. She heard the creak of leather and straps as Cullen walked behind her, and could pretty much feel his eyes watching her ass. Was this the time to channel her inner Vivienne? About to start swaying her hips in a ridiculous fashion, she stopped when she saw Josephine's expression as she held open the door. Instead she moved quickly, slipping through the opening, walking past Josie's desk up to the war room.
Leliana was lounging against the door, examining her nails in boredom.
"I thought you said it was urgent."
Aarien just shrugged as Josephine surged up the steps past her, casting a sidelong glare her way. Leliana side-stepped as she pushed open the large door to the room. They all filed in after her, taking up the familiar positions around the large table map. There were fewer counters on it now, less trouble for her to sort out. In fact it had been a couple of weeks since Aarien had left Skyhold, and she felt her feet getting itchy. As much as she love lounging about, playing cards, nothing was like exploring new places, finding treasures, battling dragons. Maybe not so much the dragons.
"These two were making eyes at each other, you know how it is."
Josephine finally put down her her writing board, and smiled sweetly across at her. Leliana snorted, and crossed her arms. Cullen, bless him, was returning to the colour he was before. Aarien just shook her head and picked up a counter to examine, in detail.
"We're all here, what's the news?"
The Antivan's eyes narrowed at her, before she adopted an air of excitement. She was even fidgeting on the spot, hands clasped together like she was about to burst.
"The nobility around Thedas have been harassing us for weeks now to come and meet their saviour, the Herald of Andraste."
Aarien rolled her eyes, and placed the piece back onto the map. Catching Cullen's eye, he rolled his too. She had to place a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
"Now that we know Corypheus is gone for good, and have cleaned up all but a few of his remaining supporters, I propose...a ball. Here at Skyhold."
Her face broke into such a big, happy grin, that Aarien had to bite back the very unsavoury word about to pop out of her mouth. Instead she just stood there, with look of disgust, a frown creasing her brow. Leliana clapped her hands, mirroring Josephine's excitement. Aarien just looked at her like she had stabbed her in the back. Which she had.
"A ball? What? So you can parade me around like the prize hog at a fete? No. No, no, no."
She shook her head and her hands, conveying as much 'no' as possible.
"I agree with Inquisitor – despite what you say, I don't think it's safe to expose her to that many people. Especially since so many will try a power grab."
Thank you, you beautiful man you. Aarien looked to Cullen, undisguised gratitude painted across her face. She knew she could count on him to back her up. Leliana groaned, placing her hands on the table to lean forward.
"She was fine in Halamshiral. And you don't like nobles, or balls, or politics, so you don't get a say."
Cullen bristled at that, and opened his mouth to argue. Josephine interrupted him.
"We will give you the guest list to approve – if there's anyone there you think would be a danger, they won't be invited."
He closed his mouth, and contemplated for a moment.
"Fine, but expect a lot to be cut."
Bastard. Traitor. Aarien glared at him.
"You just said it wouldn't be safe. Now it's fine." Shaking her head, she scowled at each of them.
"Don't I get a say in this?"
Leliana and Josephine laughed, while Cullen looked a little ashamed. And you should, damn you. Huffing, she crossed her arms over her chest, and waited for the usual attempt to convince her to play along. As they always did. About everything. Why was she even here, when they seemed to just do what they wanted anyway?
"Look, this will placate the nobility for the next age – they can tell stories of how they met the legendary Herald."
"And I get to tell stories of how a bunch perfumed pricks harassed me for an evening."
Cullen snorted. Too late, pretty boy.
Leliana sidled around the table to sling an arm around her shoulders.
"We'll do all the planning and preparation, you won't have to do a thing. Just turn up on the evening, smile at people, drink some wine, eat some cake." Aarien's nose twitched.
"Cake?"
"Yes, there will be tables of cakes, the little ones with berries that you love so much."
She pulled the cake card. Aarien grumbled, reluctantly nodding. Something that sounded like a squeak emanated from Josephine as she picked up her board again, gleeful giggling following soon after as she started to scribble more notes. Leliana squeezed her shoulders then released her, returning to her place at the head of the map.
Cullen looked at her, mouthing a silent 'sorry' as he shrugged. Sticking her tongue out at him, she rubbed at the scar on her hand. Surely it wouldn't be too bad? Just an evening, then she can return to ...whatever she did now. Sighing, she perched herself on the edge of the table, turning to look at Leliana.
"Is there anything else to discuss? Any bandits I can burn to a crisp?"
She fingered a sword counter, pushing it in circles around the map, feeling hopeful. Leliana chuckled softly.
"I'm sorry Inquisitor, but everything is quiet, for the moment. My agents are currently still trying to wheedle out the remaining Venatori, but they've disappeared deep into Tevinter, making it difficult."
Aarien grunted, and moved the piece north to sit on the Imperium, looking at it longingly. Too quiet, no rifts, nobody to save...what use was she now? She turned her attention fully to the spy master, crossing her legs, bracing her weight on her hands as she leant back.
"Aren't you supposed to be off sorting out the chantry, your Divine-ness?"
Leliana shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, fingering the the edge of her gloves, gaze not meeting Aarien's.
"I...wanted to make sure everything was sorted here first. My...arrival in Val Royeaux is not expected for a few months."
Aarien just nodded, leaving it there. She wasn't going to press for her true feelings on the matter – it was obvious she had reservations, but if she wanted to talk about it, she would. For now, Aarien was actually relieved that she'd decided to stay, for however long that might be. Hopping off the table, she bowed to them all with a flourish.
"If that is all, I'm off to spend Varric's gold in the tavern."
Leliana laughed, while Josephine completely ignored her, still frantically writing, lost to the world of lists and letters. Cullen crossed around the table to stand beside her, before proffering his arm with a smile.
"I'll join you, if that's acceptable m'lady?"
Aarien fluttered her eyelashes and adopted her best nasal Orlesian accent as she slid her arm through his, resting a palm on his cold iron gauntlet.
"Why you iz too kind, Zir Coolloon."
He snorted and led her out of the door, Leliana following behind, shaking her head, an amused smile on her lips. They traipsed through Josephine's chamber (who they'd left behind) and out into the hall.
The warmth seeping through her arm from being sandwiched between Cullen's bicep and chest was causing the rest of her to heat up, and not in entirely temperature related ways. Especially as he held her tightly to him, his other hand placed gently over hers on his arm. Damn this infernal armour. She trembled slightly at the thought of skin touching skin, swallowing hard when they paused, allowing for Leliana to address them.
"Enjoy your drink, see you later."
"Sure you don't want to join us, plenty of coin to go around."
"No, I have a few messages to send, thank you."
With that she sauntered off towards the library door, head bowed in thought. Shrugging, Aarien pulled Cullen onwards, heading out of the large doors into the mountain air. The wall of cold hit her in the face and she shivered, releasing a cloud of foggy breath. Cold shadows were cast across the courtyard, the sun sinking below the towering ramparts of the hold, darkness heralding in a frosty evening.
Pulling her closer still, Cullen led her down the steps and towards the promising warmth of the tavern. Walking in companionable silence, she examined the Commander sneakily from the corner of her eye. A content smile and soft eyes focused on their destination; she let her gaze drop to the scar on his lip and surrounding stubble. She remembered the feel of it ghosting across her skin; her neck, her shoulder, her stomach...
That night spent in his tower, when he'd taken her on his desk, replayed regularly in her mind, not least now. Since then it had all been 'Aaah, kill the evil Corypheus' and they'd not been together since. There had been a...hesitation. The want was definitely there, oh yes, but apart from moments of closeness like this and the odd frantic kiss, they were yet to...be together again. Aarien knew Cullen was confused, but his decency had given her space and time. To be honest, she didn't quite know why she hadn't jumped him as soon as she had returned from killing Corypheus. Something didn't feel quite right however, not quite right with her, and she needed to figure out what.
"Is there something on my face?"
Looking amused, his eyebrows were raised in question. Realising she had been openly staring at him, Aarien blushed and ducked her head.
"Er..no, I was just...thinking."
Smirking, he released her arm and pushed open the tavern door, beckoning her to go first. The smell of ale and tobacco smoke wafted out to assault her senses, but the accompanying warmth made her hurry inside. It was quite busy, a low level of chatter interspersed with the odd raucous laugh. A roaring fire blazed in the hearth.
Spotting Bull in his usual corner, she waved a hand to him, and made her way to the bar. Cullen followed closely, a few off duty soldiers straightening up automatically as he passed. Ignoring them and their incredulous stares at his presence in the tavern, he leaned on the bar next to her.
"Anything in particular?"
Aarien passed a couple of her hard earned coins over to Cabot, who slopped two tankards on the bar in front of them. Flicking a sud off of her arm, she sipped her ale, not looking him in the eye.
"Hmm? No, not really."
Cullen gripped his drink and took a big swig, his manner suddenly tense. Rubbing his neck, he placed a hand on hers, and coughed nervously.
"There's something I want to talk to you about. Though not here, upstairs maybe? Where it's quieter?"
His eyes were hopeful, a small smile curving the corner of his mouth. Crap crap crap. Aarien just nodded and gathered her tankard, feeling his tension pass to her. Yes, she wanted his lips and hands all over her, but she wasn't ready for the heart felt talk just yet. And in the tavern, really? He must be desperate.
They crossed the room and headed up the stairs, as she felt her stomach steadily drop. What do I say? I still love you but some thing's wrong and I don't know what, but it's not your fault. Right, because that sounded reassuring. Reaching the landing, she spied Varric sitting at a table in the corner, Sera perched on one chair next to him, Cole curled in the window behind him. Veering quickly over to them, she slid into a seat next to the elf, trying not to notice the frustrated look on Cullen's face as he sat opposite her.
"See, big boots here will solve. Talk, yeah? Birds twittering, won't shut up."
Gulping a mouthful of ale, she smiled at Sera. Rolling the sentence around her head for a moment, she guessed the question.
"There's going to be a ball in Skyhold. I see word has already gotten out."
She took a quick glance over at Cullen, who was still looking at her rather pointedly. Turning her attention to Varric, she tried to ignore him. Varric, of course, missed none of their exchange.
"Ah, the people of Skyhold, staunch gossipers in the face of adversity."
Chuckling, he put down his quill. It seemed he had come to find a place to write in peace and quiet, but had found Sera and Cole instead. Who was he kidding, she knew he loved company more.
"I see you've already spent some of your winnings, care to share? And maybe tell us more about this ball."
Aarien laughed and dug in her pouch to bring out a few coins. She rose to go and get another round from downstairs, but glanced back when she heard another chair scraping across the floor. Cullen walked around to her and held out his palm.
"I will place the order, I need to return to work anyway."
He said it so quietly, and with the faintest hint of disappointment, that her heart constricted in her chest. Slowly, she slid the coins into his hand, and looked up. Confusion and hurt played across his face, as he turned and marched back down the steps.
Pausing for a moment, she returned to her chair, noticing that Cullen had barely touched his ale. Crap. Rubbing her face, she attempted a smile and laughed as Sera babbled on about what she could do to nobles at balls. With their balls.
Varric noticed the single tear that was quickly brushed away, but said nothing.