Fabric whispered as Vanawyn shook out the skirt of her ball gown, inspecting the damage. A good tailor could probably salvage it, thanks to the fact that it wasn't dragged through the gardens while chasing down those assassins. Leliana had the brilliant idea of making the apple green skirt detachable, and it was a good thing, too; there was no way she would have made it through the night with volumes of silk chiffon pulling at her.
The only real problem now was figuring out how to get the skirt back on.
After she discovered the duchess's true intentions, Vanawyn had managed to rip the skirt off instead of detach it, and the buckle seemed to have been lost in the ensuing fight at the rift. Maybe there was a way to tie the fabric around her waist…
"There you are! Everyone's been looking for you."
The relief in Cullen's voice was a balm to her frazzled nerves. She smiled and turned, holding out the remains of her torn, dirty skirt. "I've been trying to get this thing back on."
He reached to take the cloth from her, brow furrowing. "Are you sure you want to bother? It's fair well destroyed."
"I know, but…" Vanawyn let a soft chuckle escape her throat. "Josephine advised me several times over that it would be best to wear the dress that was nearly destroyed in the process of defending the Empress. A reminder to all that I was willing to sacrifice even my fancy clothes for Orlais."
Brown eyes caught her blue-purple gaze, no small amount of hesitation radiating from him. "Did she really?"
"Yes, really." They shared an amused, exasperated look before Cullen breathed a laugh.
"I'll never understand Orlesians. Would you mind turning around? I think I can use my sutures to sew the waist back into place."
Vanawyn spun back around, self-indulgently enjoying the fluttering of butterflies in her stomach as Cullen billowed the skirt around her and snugly secured it.
"Could you hold it in place? I admit I'm not the best at stitching; I haven't done this in years." Distraction laced through his voice.
She reached back to grasp the fabric, fingers tingling as they met his. What would people say if they saw the Commander of the Inquisition sewing a torn gown back on to the Inquisitor? She couldn't help but smile; the two of them were quite the pair. "Thank you."
"You're welcome." The smile in his voice nearly caused a giggle to bubble up, but she managed to clamp down on it. There was something about him that made her feel like a besotted kid.
Music softly wafted through the midnight air, a serene calm washing over Vanawyn as she patiently stood still, letting Cullen repair her skirt. It was better not to speak, in case she distracted him; he kept making thoughtful noises through his nose while he worked on repairing the torn silk, and she didn't want him to prick himself by accident.
A gentle breeze rustled through the nearby trees several minutes later. "There, that should take care of it. Things have calmed down for the moment. Are you all right?"
"I'm just worn out." Vanawyn sighed, exhaustion settling into her limbs as she lowered her arms; tomorrow she was going to feel jumping from that balcony. "Tonight has been…very long."
"For all of us. I'm just glad it's over." A jolt ran up her back as warm skin suddenly pressed against both of her upper arms; apparently he took his gloves off. "I know it's foolish, but I was worried for you tonight."
His concern was touching. She smiled and leaned back against him, nestling her temple against his neck. "I'm just happy I managed to come across that locket."
Arms encircled her from behind, a chin nuzzling against her hair. "What locket?"
"Oh, right! You don't know." Neither of them cared much for gossip, but thinking about the sheer romanticism of bringing two lovers back together instantly reinvigorated Vanawyn's spirit. She carefully spun in his embrace, eyes shining with excitement.
"I stumbled into a random room while trying to find evidence, and instead found an elven locket. I immediately recognized it as the kind of locket you would craft for someone to whom you want to pledge yourself."
Cullen's eyebrows rose, surprised. "Briala?"
"Yes! I immediately went to ask Celene what it was, to check if it was planted. She denied directly naming Briala, but did say it was hers and deigned to tell me that she had 'failed her,' and that she should have been bolder."
Vanawyn, already swept away in the moment, whirled to watch the moon as she continued, hands slowly moving to clasp under her chin. "Briala didn't outright confirm it, either, but it was clear they both still really did love one another. How could I not try to reunite them? It's so romantic: an Empress's secret ex-lover helps thwart an attack on her life – in the process, they realize they still have that bond, and end up publicly declaring their love, despite all the odds."
His voice was quiet, arms lightly tightening around her in a brief hug. "That was a big gamble, Vanawyn. It could have gone very wrong if one of them didn't still feel the same."
"Yes, but it didn't! How could it have? What could be more important than bringing two people back together? Love prevailed in the end, as it should."
"You are…" The fond chuckle rumbling against her ear sent shivers down her spine.
The giggle she had managed to suppress earlier finally saw its chance and escaped, echoing across the balcony. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very Inquisitor-like, was it?"
"No, but it was very you." Lips pressed against her bare shoulder, completely stealing her breath away. "I…may never have another chance like this, so I must ask."
Vanawyn twisted and watched Cullen take a step back, offering her his hand.
"May I have this dance, my lady?"
She couldn't help but stare at him in a haze of longing confusion for a few moments as she recalled a conversation they had earlier that night.
"You have quite the set of admirers watching us. Enjoying the attention?"
"Not in the slightest. Anyway, yours is the only attention worth having."
"In that case, I don't suppose you'd mind saving a dance for me?"
"No, thank you."
"…Oh. …Okay."
"No, I didn't mean to… Maker's breath! I've answered that question so many times I'm rejecting it automatically. I'm sorry, but I'm not one for dancing. The templars never attended balls and I'd have no idea what I'm doing."
"I thought you didn't dance?" Despite the surprise, her hand easily found its way to clasp his. Warmth blossomed in her chest as he gently pulled her against him, letting her guide his hands to the proper spots.
"For you, I'll try."