Chapter 4

When I Hold You

"You know what I hate?" Valena asked lowly so that only the man directly at her side could hear.

Hawke's lips quirked, replying in the same low tone; "What do you hate?"

"This outfit, this ball and this whole damn charade." The mage woman crossed her arms and frowned, clearly put out by this whole evening.

Gregory bit back the chuckle that threatened. Valena had a point. Their outfits, while not as bad as what some of the Orlesian nobility wore, were stiff and formal, the ball seemed an odd route to go for peace talks, since a mask was the easiest way for an assassin to infiltrate and the charade, or The Game, as the Orlesians liked to refer to it as was tiresome. Valena, for the most part, was a pretty straight forward woman and had a low tolerance level for bullshit like this. Hawke was used to the dance that accompanied high stake politicking, having only very narrowly escaped being thrown in the circle on multiple occasions, simply because he was Kirkwall's champion. "Well, you know, my lady, Josephine wanted you in a gown. Perhaps that would have been more to your liking," Gregory teased.

The scowl she shot him was icy. "Don't even joke about that."

It wasn't that Valena was especially opposed to wearing dresses - indeed, she even wore some more casual dresses around the hold - but when Josie had presented Valena with a corseted, cage-skirted monstrosity of a gown in gold, no less, Valena had promptly shut that fancy down and had decided to wear what everyone else was wearing. Tugging at the collar that was too snug around her throat was infinitely preferable to that blasted gown.

The two moved around the floor together, surreptitiously listening in on any conversation that they could manage. So far, they'd found out about a couple affairs and at least one planned assassination, aside from the one on Celene, that Valena would be sure to report to Leliana. The spymaster could decide whether or not the assassination was in their best interest to stop or not. Valena liked to stay as true to her morals as was feasible but she knew that the Inquisition, if it were to be an effective tool, couldn't always operate according to what best suited her conscience. There had been and would be tough decisions and Valena had accepted that it would fall on her shoulders to make those decisions.

Hawke wanted to ask her to dance. Even though Josie had been unable to coax her into the gown for this event, the ambassador did manage to convince her to wear her hair in a "more fashionable" style and had even convinced the elf to let her dab just a little bit of makeup on her. Valena was always beautiful, of course, but the lining around her eyes made them appear twice as large, her face was framed by pretty red tendrils and the red lacquer spread across her lips made them so inviting...

Valena hummed along softly to the music, slightly out of time. "Perhaps we should go see how Dorian is doing," Valena suggested offhandedly, making her way around another ginormous skirt.

Hawke did most certainly not want to see how Dorian was doing, but he nodded, unable to think of a good reason that wouldn't invite too many questions from his companion. Instead, he grabbed a wine glass off of a nearby servant, making sure to thank the elf as he did so and slip her a gold piece as thanks, and followed after the lovely Inquisitor.

Dorian was out in the garden, holding onto a goblet of wine - probably not his first, Hawke thought. Dorian, as always, looked like a statue that had been carved with great care. His hair was neatly coiffed, his mustache curled impeccably above his full lips, his eyes sharp and intelligent and that wasn't even mentioning the beauty of his body. He had no right, in Hawke's opinion, to be that deliciously muscular while also having grown up with such privilege and talent. Tonight, though, he looked like a very annoyed statue. When he spotted them, a little relief washed over the Tevinter man's face, quickly hidden behind an arrogant mask. "Ah, thought you two had left me to the wolves," he remarked dryly, raising a goblet to them in greeting.

Valena turned large, guileless eyes on the man, the very picture of innocence. "Now don't tell me you aren't having fun, Dorian."

The Altus rolled his eyes, his lip raising in scorn. "It's all very familiar," he replied, "I half expect my mother to materialize from the crowd and criticize my manners."

"What if your mother were actually here? Where would we be then?" Valena asked curiously.

Dorian scoffed. "Short one mage, after he's dragged out by his earlobe."

Hawke snorted, ignoring the disgusted side-eye that garnered from a nearby gaggle of Orlesians. "Sounds like my mother, Maker rest her spirit."

Valena lightly elbowed Hawke, casually asserting, "And you'd deserve it. Your manners do need work, Gregory."

"Says the woman who grew up in a forest," he shot back teasingly.

Valena rolled her eyes. "Yes, and now I deal with humans, noble and otherwise, on a daily basis - hourly, even," she replied coolly. Hawke had to conceded that she had him there. Even though he'd also frequently rubbed elbows with the higher ups in Kirkwall, he couldn't say he'd been even half as diplomatic as she managed, even with her Dalish upbringing arguably putting her at a disadvantage when it came to human social customs. Sensing her victory, Valena beamed triumphantly at her companion before turning back to Dorian, who had been glancing between the two with interest as they bantered. "Don't wear yourself out mingling. I expect a dance before this is over," she declared.

"Dancing with the evil Magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking," Dorian replied in a mock scandalized voice.

"They'll live," Valena shrugged, unconcerned. She'd already offended the nobles by being an elf. Dancing with Dorian, even if he was considered "evil" by some of the other attendees, couldn't do too much more damage.

"You say that now," Dorian said. "If you can find me ten silk scarves, I've got a dance that will really shock them."

Valena rolled her eyes yet again, gently touching the other mage on his arm as she passed by. "See you later, Dorian," she said in farewell, half amused and half exasperated.

As Grey followed after the redhead, a little pang of envy went through him. He wasn't jealous of Dorian - he knew Valena and he were just good friends, an idea which was reinforced by Dorian making his interest in the former Champion pretty well known throughout the first few months Grey had spent with the Inquisition, making advances Grey had only turned down because he wasn't intending on staying long. No, he was jealous because he wanted to dance with her but couldn't find the right moment to ask her.

Hawke groaned when the young woman eyed a trellis and looked up at him with bright green eyes that announced, even before she did, "I'm going to climb it." Of course she was going to climb it. Why wouldn't the Herald of Andraste and Inquisitor climb the bloody trellis? That wouldn't invite any questions at all. "Watch my back?" she asked playfully, already heading to the lattice that hung off the wall with a little skip in her step.

Hawke rolled his eyes but followed. "Always, my lady," he replied, a low note in his voice that bordered on flirtatious. As she began her ascent, Hawke turned around and eyed the party-goers, looking for anyone who might try to interfere. Aside from an odd glance or two, no one said anything about the Inquisitor scaling the walls.

It was suspiciously quiet once Valena was out of sight. He didn't so much as hear her boots scuffling up on the balcony. Grey was just thinking maybe he should give up his post and go check on her when her face suddenly appeared at the top of the wall, red hair tumbling forward and hanging down like a crimson waterfall. "Grey!" she whisper-shouted, glee clear in her voice. "Come up here!" The former Champion obliged, scaling the lattice with little difficulty. When he made it to the top he immediately saw why she was so excited. Starting on the balcony and heading inside were blood spatters. Valena hopped with excitement at his side. "We get to ditch the party for a while!" she sang happily. "I just need to find out where Leliana hid our weapons."

"Orrr," Grey drew out, giving her a mischievous look, "we could break into the vault."

Valena's mouth popped into a little 'O' shape before a grin overtook her face. "You're my favorite person in all of Thedas right now. I hope you understand that."

Grey indulged in the little flutter his heart gave. "What are friends for?"

Surprising him, Valena stood on tip toe and laid a loud kiss on his cheek. "Let's go!" she exclaimed, already heading back down the lattice. Grey froze in place for a moment, his hand touching his cheek where she'd kissed him but her impatient exclamation of, "Grey!" brought him back to himself. He followed her down, still reeling from the unusual display of affection and overjoyed by it as well.

That joy carried through the rest of the evening. It warmed him as they stalked the halls, trying to be gone in short bursts so that their absences weren't noted all the way through preventing Celene's assassination and seeing to Florianne's death.

It may have even lasted him all throughout the next week if he hadn't found Valena on one of the many balconies later that evening, leaning over the railing and looking out at the horizon pensively. He'd thought she'd be happy. They'd done what they'd set out to do in preventing the Empress' murder and she'd seemed in good spirit earlier. "You know," he began, coming to lean on the balcony at her side, "if you keep making that face, it will stick like that."

One side of her mouth ticked up in a half smile. "I'm pretty sure that's an old wive's tale," she replied.

Hawke turned towards her, resting his back on the railing and folding his arms over his chest. "I can't believe you're willing to risk your beautiful face to test that theory." When she didn't respond beyond a tired, forced smile, Hawke's eyebrows drew together in concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, serious this time.

Valena sighed deeply, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I'm just worn out. Tonight has been... very long."

Grey nodded. "It has," he agreed, "but I think we deserve a little bit of fun. Celene is alive, Orlais is in one piece. We need to celebrate the little victories."

"The little victories," she repeated softly to herself. A moment later, her face softened and she nodded, straightening up to her full height. "You're right," she agreed, another smile gracing her beautiful lips, still tired but genuine. "We do need to have a bit of fun. What do you suggest?"

"Perhaps we should find Dorian those scarves for that dance," Hawke joked, reaching out to escort her back into the ball room.

Valena looked at the proffered hand curiously for a moment, not reaching out to take it like she had a half dozen other times this evening. Hawke was about to ask what was wrong now when she met his eyes and asked, "What about you?"

Grey blinked, confused. "What? I don't know anything about dancing with scar-"

Valena giggled, cutting him off with a wave of her hands. "No, I don't mean the scarf dance. I mean... just a dance. With you. And me."

Grey's eyebrows shot to his hairline and a blush rose in his cheeks. "I- err- well..." Valena stared at him expectantly as he stumbled over himself, looking a little amused. Grey took a deep breath to steady himself before trying again; "What I mean is, yes, Valena. I would love to dance with you."

The elvhen woman beamed, now gracefully accepting the hand that he offered her. He bowed and she dipped into a little curtsy, before drawing closer into the dance formation. Grey was grateful he was wearing gloves otherwise she would have felt how sweaty his palms had become. Their clasped hands were raised into the dancer's frame his mother ha drilled into him after they'd regained their noble status in Kirkwall and his hand wrapped around her waist, gently resting on her lower back. They were beginning mid-song but Grey picked up the beat easily and began to lead her around the balcony.

Valena followed effortlessly, light on her feet and, surprisingly, even seeming familiar with the dance. She met his gaze, anticipated his lead and never faltered. After a few moments, Grey grew ambitious and spun her out. Valena's laugh was surprised and exuberant as she spun out and then back in, ending up wrapped in Grey's arms. The feeling of her back pressed to his chest did things to Grey's nerves, sending little shocks of warmth and ecstasy all over. He would have held her all night if he could have.

But, eventually he did have to spin her back out, returning to the stiff, formal frame of the waltz they'd begun in. Grey would have done anything to know what she'd do if he leaned down and kissed her right then. He stared into her eyes, looking for the answer, for some hint of what he was feeling in her. But he didn't see it. She stared back, seemingly innocent and unaware of the passion that roiled just beneath the former Champion's calm facade. The song changed to one slower. Grey saw this as his moment - he could pull back, excuse himself and run off to regain control of his bubbling emotions, but as was her way, she foiled him yet again. She stepped closer instead of separating for the slower number, keeping their hands clasped and surging forward to lay her head on his chest. Grey truly wished she wouldn't because there was no way she wouldn't hear his heartbeat thundering away.

If she did hear it, she gave no indication. They gently swayed to the soft tune, Grey eventually relaxing into the dance, even so much as to gently lay his cheek atop her head.

"You're an excellent dancer," she commented after a long stretch of silence.

"I could say the same of you," he replied, and after a second's contemplation, tacking on, "Where did you learn to waltz?"

"A magician never reveals her secrets," she teased, smiling into his chest.

Gregory sighed but smiled. Sometimes it felt like there was nothing but secrets between them. She did not speak of her past and he did not speak of his present nor dare contemplate the future. "As you wish, my lady."

The two continued to saw for quite some time, entirely unaware of the eyes that were on them. Varric and Dorian stood in the doorway to the balcony, having been sent to retrieve the Inquisitor and the Champion for a quick debriefing and for plans to be made for the return to Skyhold but neither had wanted to interrupt the two as they swayed, lost in their own little world.

"Do you think he knows yet?" Varric asked the mage, trying to keep his voice low so as not to be noticed yet.

Dorian shook his head. "No. Handsome though he may be, he seems to be quite dense when it comes to flirting - and her more than anyone."

Varric nodded thoughtfully. Truthfully, this shouldn't come as a surprise. Though Hawke generally came off as smooth and witty, he'd never been good at reading flirting. Varric didn't think that Hawke had ever caught on to Fenris' interest in him in the ten years they'd spent together and he'd only caught onto Isabela's because she was about as subtle as a stampeding druffalo. And then she'd stampeded right over his heart when she stole the Qunari relic and took off, never to be seen again. The dwarf had always thought Hawke had avoided seeking another relationship afterwards but perhaps he had genuinely not realized there were others who fancied him? That certainly seemed to be the case now as he observed the two of them.

"Do you think we should start dropping him hints?" Varric asked, only half joking. Valena was already dropping hints - her asking him to dance being only the most recent and boldest in a string of thinly veiled invitations to pursue her - but Hawke clearly wasn't picking any of them up, if his tortured pining was anything to go by.

Dorian chuckled, clapping the dwarf on the shoulder companionably. "Now, my friend, where would be the fun in that?" the Tevinter man asked. "What do you think the odds are he tells her before the end of the year?"

Varric thought about it, looking the two of them over. The closeness of the dance was good progress, but Hawke, despite his intelligence, had also proven to be dumb as a door nail when it came to this woman. "Probably not by the end of this year," Varric sighed. "I'd say... give it another 8 months or so. Late spring or summer of next year."

"I say in winter of this one. Our dear Inquisitor does seem to be getting quite impatient with him."

That did seem to be the case, but Varric had also been around for Isabela and Hawke's three year long cloud of sexual tension and Isabela was a woman of far less tact. If this took less than two years, Varric would be utterly thrilled and it would be worth shelling out the coin to Dorian. "You've got a bet, Sparkler." The two men shook hands before slowly turning a fading back into the party. Giving them a moment longer wouldn't hurt anything.

Valena couldn't even recall the last time she had been this soused, she realized as she staggered away from the table and towards the roaring hearth of the fireplace. Probably before Miri had been born. Josephine and Leliana had conspired to find out her birthday, writing her clan behind her back and had surprised her with a party after she'd put the littles down for the evening. It was her own doing, not realizing Sera was up to something when she asked her to come down to the Herald's rest for a pint and a chat about the Jennies. When she'd arrived, she'd found the tavern full of people, all of which yelled "SURPRISE!" when she came through the door.

Luckily for them, she didn't end up burning down the tavern in her alarm, though she had raised a hand in defense. Also lucky for them, Hawke knew her pretty well by now and had stood directly behind the door, catching her arm before she could have done any damage. And then he'd gone toe to toe with her, matching her drink for drink as pretty much the whole tavern bought her a round.

It was nice to have a party, a night dedicated to her, she thought. The Dalish didn't celebrate birthdays. Her former keeper had probably thought Leliana was batty when she sent a letter asking which day, specifically, the Inquisitor was born. Still she was grateful to the two women. It felt good to unwind.

Valena basked on the floor in front of the fire, slouched against a post until someone yelled, "WATCH'ER!" and a pillow flew through the air, smacking her on the side of the head. The offending projectile fell to the floor with a little 'fwump', having been entirely ineffectual. As Valena expected, when she looked up to see who'd thrown the pillow, Sera was standing there, doubled over she was snickering so hard. Valena just smiled, grabbing the pillow and stuffing it behind her so she could lean back against it.

"The room's spinning, but it's like a dance, not like drowning. So warm. Full of love and warmth. And happy, too. Can't remember the last time my heart bubbled this way-"

"Whoa, Cole!" Valena exclaimed turning around to face the young man, startling him. "Sorry," she apologized, paying special attention to her s's. "Please leave my thoughts in my brain, okay?"

Cole nodded. "You... look happy," he tried instead.

Valena smiled warmly at the young man. "I am, Cole. I am." At that moment, Varric came to retrieve the two of them for a round of Wicked Grace, but Valena waved him off. "Go on and play a round without me. I couldn't win against you or Josie right now if my life depended on it."

"That's true when you're sober too, Val," Varric teased with a chuckle, but grasped Cole on the shoulder. "Alright, kid, why don't you come join us. Just... don't talk to the face cards again, please."

Valena made a rude gesture at Varric's back when he turned, dragging Cole back to the table with him but there was no real malice behind it. Cole had been correct - she was happy. And nothing could ruin her good mood. In fact, her mood only improved when her best friend plopped down on the rug next to her and handed her another tankard of ale. Gregory's cheeks were flushed and his hair was just a little mussed. Valena couldn't help the little bit of a blush that rose to her cheeks as she looked him over, wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his thick dark locks...

"Now, now," Hawke admonished mockingly, wagging a finger at her like she'd been very bad indeed, "that's not a gesture polite ladies should make." Unable to even pretend to be serious, he cracked a smile and took another drink from his tankard.

Valena's lips twisted into a sarcastic half smile. "It's a good thing I'm no lady then, huh?"

Hawke rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah, Val. You're the epitome of masculinity. Where's that flower crown you were wearing yesterday?"

"My daughter made that for me. I'm just being a good mom," Valena lied, tipping her own ale to her lips and avoiding eye contact so she didn't have to make eye contact with him, even though she could feel his disbelieving stare boring into the side of her head.

Grey was staring at her but bringing up Miri and her flower crowns had brought something else to the forefront of his mind. And now, he was just drunk enough to not think too much before asking the question that had been on the tip of his tongue for months. "Speaking of your kids..." he hedged, prompting her to look at him with raised eyebrows, "why does Balor look so different from you and Miri?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, clapping a hand over her mouth in surprise and then giggling. "Oh, creators. I can't believe I never told you this. Balor isn't mine."

Hawke's jaw dropped and he nearly spilled his tankard of ale all down his front. Of all the explanations he'd come up with in his head, this never had crossed his mind. "Come again?" he asked, still reeling.

Valena giggled a little more at his expression. "Well, not mine in the sense that I did not carry him or birth him. I will always consider him my son, of course. I've been raising him since he was only a few weeks old." Hawke's shock didn't lessen at her explanation. Really, he looked quite cute, his surprise endearing. Even so, she pressed on, "A hunter in my clan did not return - I believe a bear killed her - and the father was not among us, having been a passing fancy in a different clan we made contact with. The clan took turns caring for him until it was determined that his mother was unlikely to ever return and so the keeper asked for a volunteer to care for the babe. Miri was two at the time and my husband, Aurelis, and I had been discussing having another child of late. It felt like fate that a needy baby was dropped in our laps."

Grey's brain had short circuited. Somewhere down the line, he'd convinced himself that Balor looked like Valena's late husband and that's why he looked different from his mother or sister and that's why she occasionally looked at him sadly. Adoption seemed unthinkable. Even worse, he was really quite too drunk to be processing this sort of information. It was making him feel things. Shock was chief among those feelings, of course, but also admiration, respect and a surge of affection.

"He... has your eyes," Hawke protested weakly, still struggling to process this news.

Her laughter was a like a chime, tinkling and wrapping around him enchantingly. Her face scrunched up adorably. "I hate to break it to you, Grey, but green eyes are exceptionally common in the Dalish clans." That was... fair. Merrill had big green eyes, too, after all. He'd never really paid attention before, but many members of her clan may have possessed green eyes as well. Now that was something he'd be looking for every time he ran across an elf. After her giggles subsided, she looked at him and cocked her head to the side, studying his face. Her cheeks were red, her face relaxed, but her eyes were sharp, despite the alcohol. "Gregory... you know Miri is half human, do you not?" she asked with a raised brow.

Hawke had suspected that for quite some time, yes. Her features were softer, her ears not as pointed and she just seemed... clumsier than elves, even elvhen children generally came across. Hesitantly, he nodded. "I... thought so, yes."

Valena's eyes softened in understanding. "You thought they might have different fathers."

It wasn't a question and he couldn't deny that the thought had crossed his mind a time or two. There was still so much mystery surrounding her life before the Conclave blast and the Inquisition. He didn't know how long ago her husband died - nor how - and he couldn't blame her for seeking comfort after his loss. Grey gulped but nodded, sheepishly stammering, "I-I thought maybe a-after your husband passed..." Grey trailed off, unable to finish the thought for the wave of shame that swept through him, and his head fell, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

Valena's hand was on his arm in the next moment, giving him a reassuring squeeze. Grey looked up, surprised by the softness that still resided in her eyes. "I'm not angry, Grey. I didn't tell you and it's not like you accused me of something horrible. It's alright." She sat back and her grin turned just a touch sarcastic. "I can't believe it took you so long to bring it up, though. The curiosity would have eaten me alive, if I were in your shoes."

Hawke gritted his teeth, deciding not to tell her that it had been eating at him for several months. Grey cleared his throat, deciding that he was going all in tonight - in for a copper, in for a gold - and said, "So... Aurelis?"

A pang of regret shot through Grey when her smile faded and her eyes dropped to her mug. He couldn't let himself take it back, though. Not now. So he waited, as patiently as he was able, for her to be ready to talk about it. Valena didn't raise her eyes, but she did start speaking, gaze still boring into her remaining ale like it held all the answers; "Aurelis and I met when we were children, actually. My clan stopped in the town his father was Bann over every two years or so. Bann Brighton Cathrie was a good man and encouraged peace and trade with us. Aurelis and his older brothers would sometimes come play with us and wrangle the Halla. When we grew older, Aurelis was delighted by my magic and he taught me how to use a bow. We grew close but... I never thought he was serious about me. He was a shem - handsome and kind, but different." A sad smile tugged at her lips as she remembered. "Then, as we were about to pull up the aravels one spring and move on, he showed up and declared that he'd follow me all through Thedas." Hawke smiled at that. A man of good taste, then. "And... he did. We married the next spring and Miri was born a few years after."

A tear slipped down her cheek that Hawke desperately wanted to reach out and wipe away, but he remembered the incident with Miri and how she'd shied from his touch then. Instead, he offered his hand and she took it with a wobbly stretch of her lips that didn't quite resemble mirth. "He died a year after we took in Balor. The clan ran into some darkspawn, there was a scuffle... and he ended up with the taint and died a few days later."

More tears began to stream down her face. Hawke took a quick look around, grateful that the tavern had begun to empty so there were few around to witness her breakdown and most of the remaining occupants were gathered around the table where a round of Wicked Grace was being played - Hawke briefly noticed that Cullen had lost his shirt again already. Hesitantly, he moved closer and reached out for her. She let him gather her smaller frame up and bring her close in a tight embrace, burying her face in his chest. Grey felt her heaving and the tears soaking through his shirt but her sobs were quiet.

Grey rested his chin on her head and she fisted her hand in his shirt. He wished he knew how to comfort her. "I'm sorry, Valena," he whispered to her softly, over and over again, but it was inadequate. He knew it wasn't enough - that it wasn't the right thing to say - but it was all he could think of.

Valena pulled back a short while later with a hiccup. Grey reached out without thinking this time and wiped away her tear tracks with his thumbs. Surprisingly, she let him. Even more surprisingly, she leaned into his touch so that he ended up cupping her cheek. A small smile turned up the corners of her lips, not entirely happy, but... contented. Their gazes were locked and Grey's breath caught in his throat. The urge to kiss her was overpowering, palpable even, and he began to lean forward unconsciously. It might have been his imagination, but he thought he saw her beginning to lean forward, too.

A commotion at the table broke the spell between them. A chair banged on the floor, startling both of them and causing Grey to drop his hand from her cheek. Sera had sprang up from her chair, knocking it back with her momentum, and was currently sprinting out the door with a piece of fabric fluttering out behind her like a banner, cackling.

"Sera!" Cullen exclaimed in rage, springing up himself. "Get back here with my pants!" The Knight Commander ran after the blond elf. This time, at least, he left the table with the dignity of his small clothes.

"You've got no breeches!" Sera screeched in delight.

The table broke out in chuckles and Grey and Valena joined in. The Inquisitor righted herself, combing through her mussed locks with her fingers and straightening her blouse. "I'd better go play a round of Wicked Grace and then head off to bed." She stood and Grey did as well. "And... thank you."

Grey was surprised. He only remembered making her cry. "For what?"

Valena's smile was a little muted but genuine. "It felt good to talk about Aurelis. I've kept him close to my heart for so long... I'll have to tell you more about him one day."

Grey smiled in return, happy that he could relieve some of the burden from her. "He sounds like a great man. I'd love to hear about him."

Valena reached out and gave him a quick hug. Grey returned the squeeze with surprise and was disappointed when it ended so quickly. Valena shyly averted her gaze and tucked a lock behind her ear. "Goodnight, Grey."

"Goodnight, Valena."