A/N: I wish someone has told me before that Cole's fun to write because damn it, he's so fun to write. Another thing— I forgot the name of the guy who's with Dagna in the undercroft, but this is as far as memory can remember. If it's wrong, please tell me! uwu;;

The Halamshiral ball will take up three chapters, and I still write really, really long, so forgive me if the Halamshiral chapters are a lot longer than usual. ;;

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Varric can't just read through a paragraph of Song of Seasons, as much as he tries to force himself to read it.

In the end, he just politely returns the thing to the library, and just swears to himself to never ever return in that place, as much as he enjoys watching people pick out his novels from the bookshelf. Even though it had been his only hobby for the last few hours, after he felt like he had been tortured out of his wits until he's left half-silly with that meeting, no, the library won't be the place for him to spend his time.

For the first time ever, the inquisitor will have the inner circle head out in their own to do the usual influence-establishing expeditions, while she stays behind in Skyhold to discuss with the advisors about their move in Halamshiral and the ball. She had a 5-hour meeting with all of them, told them that there would be two teams for the next month to head out on their own to Orlais and Ferelden, and announced that Cassandra and Blackwall would be the leaders of the respective teams.

And of course, he had to be in Cassandra's team. Obviously, most of the time in that meeting was spent complaining about their assignments, but in the end Lavellan was able to adjust it so everyone won't suffer so badly in their team assignments. Vivienne, Cole and Solas were also in Cassandra's team, while Blackwall's team got readjusted and finally had Sera, Dorian, and Iron Bull.

At the very least, Cole will be a welcome distraction.

Also, not only were they planning their move in the ball, but they've also planned on what they will wear in the event. All Lavellan told them is that the inner circle would have their clothes customized, since it is pretty likely that they will encounter a fight while they investigate, while the three of them will be just fine in Josephine's old gowns and coats from the Montilyet family — as much as they wanted to get new coats and dresses, Cullen thought it was a waste of gold for an outfit they'd only wear once.

They were dismissed, asked to prepare for tomorrow's expeditions. But Varric decided to do a small detour to return the book, and to ask Leliana about other details that Lavellan won't spit out about the Inquisition's plans in Halamshiral. He climbs up to the rookery to find the spymaster and he walked closer to her as she was tending to a crow.

"Got a designer for the ball?" Varric asks the spymaster, who was in the middle of fitting an identification ring on one of the messenger crows with an old letter opener. "Formal Orlesian clothing that is suitable for fighting is hard to make, you know."

"A designer?" Leliana repeats, like it's a silly question. She was able to fit the identification ring to the crow she had in hand, and throws the bird up for it to return to its cage. "We already have one."

"And who could that—"

And Mithiin suddenly runs up the stairs to the rookery, with a journal in hand and a stack of loose sheets with sketches on them. "Leliana! There you are." Mithiin grabs the loose sheets and hands them to Leliana. "I was wondering if I could distribute these designs to the inner circle already."

Leliana places the letter opener on her desk and flips through the individual loose sheets with a smile. "Wow, this is amazing!" Varric could see Leliana's inner fashion side surface as her smile goes from ear to ear, flipping through the other designs. "Your work is gorgeous, as always. I can't wait to see this in its actuality!"

Wait... what?

"Did I hear that right?" Varric walks nearer to the two ladies, as Mithiin flips through the journal, looking for something. "You're the designer?"

Mithiin didn't reply with anything but an excited nod.

Damn. You learn something about this lady everyday. Instead of spitting out a sarcastic reply, Varric tried to peer on the designs. "Can I see them, at the least?"

"Sure!" She plucks out a handful of sheets from Leliana's hands, and passes it to Varric's. "We were just about to distribute these, anyway. Here's the one also for Cass, Vivienne, Cole, aaaand Solas." She hands him more sheets of paper. "I labeled them and all that."

Varric excused himself, saying that he needs to prepare for the expedition, and forced himself not to look at the designs until he has reached the second floor of the quartermaster's building, their designated meeting place. Cassandra has busied herself with her pack; while Cole had deemed it entertaining to help Vivienne and Solas pack their rather volatile potion bottles by wrapping them with black cloth to avoid them from clattering to each other. All Solas did was arrange some pocket books. Well, sounds like Solas's plan for the expedition is to read his way through every argument that comes up.

"Wishes wanted me to hand you these." Varric passes around the sketches, making sure that they got the sheets designated to them, and sure enough, Varric easily catches Cassandra's confused frown on the sketches, as the seeker tries to figure them out.

"What... is this, exactly?"

"Ball outfit schematics." Varric grins. "She'll have our outfits customized, like she said in the meeting. Weren't you listening?"

"We could have just worn formal armor." She muses, but she did not sound annoyed or disappointed; rather, she looks over the designs with a somewhat satisfied smile. "But this will do."

He remembered the seeker complaining about the customized dresses, saying that it would be far more practical — and cheap — to wear formal armor instead. But Mithiin turned her down, saying that not only the whole of Halamshiral will see the Hero of Orlais with their own eyes, she was also excited to see Cassandra in something that's not armor. Not to mention that there was mail underneath the dress, so she didn't have to worry about dying, anyway. In the end, the seeker relented and agreed. Varric knew she'd give up trying. It's the Inquisitor, her closest friend, that's asking her to ease off the armor for once.

He knew that Cassandra can't argue with Lavellan's large, bright puppy eyes.

"It looks like me, but it isn't me." Cole murmurs as he looked closer to the sketches like they're storybook illustrations. "This Cole dons a different hat, with roses and tulips that scream of beauty and secrets on them."

"That they do." Varric smiles, silently thanking Lavellan for the designs. "Do you like it, kid?"

Cole pauses, looking at the sketches once again, before smiling. "Yes."

"Kindly excuse me, darlings," Vivienne suddenly stood up and turned to leave, all with a rather genuine smile. "I need to talk to our dear Inquisitor." She's stepped down the stairs and was out of earshot when they have finally deemed it safe to look at each other with confusion.

"Did she not like her persona in the paper?" Cole asks, still in his awkward sitting position on his chair, papers in hand, as if he'd find answers in it. "Did it lack flowers and jewels and her fancy silks that match her tastes?"

All Varric did was shrug, because honestly, he doesn't know, and it surprises him that Cole doesn't know, either. Varric turns to Solas, who had been surprisingly silent for the entire conversation — Varric did think at one point that Solas had a grudge against fashion, seeing the usual state of his clothes, but all he had been doing is looking at the sketches, as if searching for words to say or mulling over his own opinion.

The dwarf walks closer to Solas and peers in his version of the designs which was a set with a dark blue-green trench coat and pale green embroideries, which was distinctively Orlesian in origin, but was obviously suited to Solas's tastes. He couldn't make out the designs much, mainly because there were a lot more notes than it should be on the sides. Things like "inside will be made out of fur, but if you're against that, just do tell" and "this will be ideal but you can wear any pair of boots you want" were scattered around the borders.

In the bottom of the paper was written "We're equals in this night's ballroom. ~ML"

Solas glanced at Varric as if he just saw him come nearer. He raises the papers. "This... This is Mithiin's work?" Solas's voice sounded like he could not believe the fact.

"That's what Nightingale and Wishes said." Varric grins sheepishly. "I know. Never knew her as a designer."

The elf merely flashes the smallest smile he could manage. "Knowing her, she must have planned this for a long time. I could have seen it sooner."

Varric was about to respond with a quip when Cole beat him to it, all in his same odd, prophetic tone. "He sees ruffles and dreams plucked out of a hazy world, sewn to his tastes and decorated in his persona in the paper. He sees the love that will be sewn in the hem and stitches and every inch of it. And it was made by her hands, the one he holds the most against his fingers."

Solas just turns to Cole as if that wasn't supposed to be said out loud, and the boy merely shrunk in his seat like he was supposed to disappear in it. What is he going on about—

...oh.

Ohh.

Varric merely grins, finally understanding the implication of it. "Well Chuckles, it seems like you're going to have a lot more fun than most of us in the ball." He claps him on the back and Solas just looks at the dwarf like he's gone mad. "Tell us about it, okay?"

"I'm not obliged to tell you anything." He straightens up his chair in an attempt to regain his composure. "This is private."

"But you always wished for—" Cole got cut off by something, and he stood up suddenly. "Where did they go?"

"Cole, no." Solas glares at the boy like he was about to shoot out a fireball. "This is something that you should not meddle in."

The boy just returned to his seat and hugged his legs closer to his chest than dear life, just at the very moment that Vivienne returns and plops herself to her seat, schematics still in hand and a huge smile on her face.

Turns out, she just left to praise Lavellan on her designing skills, and apologized that she does not need it for the ball, because she already have her usual clothes that will work as both a ball outfit and mage robes. "She just asked for my enchanter dress," Vivienne said, "since it needs to be modified so that I would not look like a sore thumb out of the inner circle. She's such a dear designer; I'd love to see more of her works."

That actually said a lot about Lavellan's designing skills.

After everyone had stopped their murmurs about the outfits, Varric finally looked on his own copy of the schematics. The first thing he saw was a note in Mithiin's cursive scribble. "I'm not really accustomed to designing things for dwarves. Tell me if this is not for your tastes. ~ML"

But looking at it, it was actually... pretty amazing. He hated Orlesian fashion, probably more than Solas, and he's going to die first before anyone asks him to wear any puffed-sleeved-shirt. He was pretty relieved to see that not only was a puffed sleeve nowhere in this design, it also didn't look too different from his usual outfit. The only difference is that the breastplate underneath his coat was a little more hidden than it used to be, and that his coat had more color on it than usual. Varric actually liked it. He's excited to try it on as soon as it's made.

At least there's something to look forward to as the expeditions go on for the rest of the month.

..

Two weeks in the month, and it turns out that travelling without Lavellan to pry him off Cassandra's teeth wasn't such a terrible experience.

Not only was the seeker surprisingly pleasant during the expeditions, she was way too busy leading them all to their destination, that there was not enough time for her to spit back or to even acknowledge him beside her. He has made it a habit to stay close to Cassandra — it's not anything bad, sometimes he just feel a little safer in that place. Also, he does a pretty good job shooting an enemy from his position beside her. After the fight is done, she'd smile to him, but no words are spoken between them.

He actually missed her talking, but Cole, Vivienne and Solas were the ones filling in the silence in the group as they hike. Cole would often speak out thoughts from the group, and Solas would make short work of it by asking him to stop, or by commenting. He was a lot more talkative than usual, and oftentimes, he would even engage in enemies with whatever brute force magic can do, all while reading one of the pocket books he had brought. Sometimes Varric is confused with what sort of talent he has.

And after a week is done, they would return to Skyhold and stay there for a day or two, before they head out again. Varric looks forward to the weekends where he could just drink and be merry until he could no longer care about anything. But oftentimes, Cassandra would catch him drinking, and she'd pull him out of bar and tell him to stop.

"There's the end of the month. Actually, after the ball. After that, you can drink all you want, but for now, we need you with as much sense in your head as possible."

"The seeker just doesn't want to have fun." He raises the bottle that was still in his hand, and Cassandra knocks it off his stubby fingers, sending it flying to the ground. It's broken to pieces, and Varric looks at it like it's the last bottle in his lifetime that Cassandra just threw away.

"I know how to entertain myself," she said, "and it does not involve making a fool out of myself. Now go to bed. We'll leave early tomorrow. It's unfair for Mithiin to work so hard while we slack around like thugs waiting for their victims."

So that's what this is all about?

All Varric has heard is that Mithiin has been hard at work with Dagna, the smiths, and the tailors with making the inner circle's clothes as comfortable and practical as possible for everyone once the ball rolls in. It's the Game, he remembered her saying, and we won't win if we don't look our best while still being able to beat them. Dagna was excited for the project, saying that it's amazing that all of them are working on something so interesting and gorgeous at the same time, and actually made doubly sure that the plates and mail are augmented and enchanted as neatly and as lightly as possible.

He couldn't rest, so Varric decided to where they were working — in the undercroft obviously, and it was like a studio where a group of artists would camp in and cram their paintings a day or two before their exhibits. It was far away from the neat and tidy workshop he usually sees, and Lavellan was running up and down the stairs, supervising everything and making sure that they fit. On top of the stairs, the customized dress frames where the armor and the coats and dresses were made, to make sure that it makes sense and that it would fit and not fall off.

There was a note on the floor, and Varric goes to pick it up. It was obviously on Mithiin's elegant scrawl, the one she'd use if her thoughts are too muddled with things to do.

"There would be three types of clothing that we'll make here. One's for Cass, Blackwall and the Bull. They're going to need legitimate plate armor, so we'll have to get some iron and lazurite and some other metals for enchanting, and some more hammers to make sure that the armor is slim enough. Leliana's scouts have already gathered some ores, just get them at the quartermaster.

Then Varric, Cole and Sera would have to go with chainmail or leather mail, either works. Varric can go with just a breastplate hidden underneath the shirt. Since Sera's pretty fine with something like her regular clothes, we can pattern it to look the same. Plus, she can't jump around with a huge skirt.

Solas and Dorian would be okay with just enchanted garments. Unless mail would be fine to sew in there, but I honestly don't think they'd need it. I've got Vivienne's clothes ready, they're enchanted and all that. We just need to modify it so she won't look like a sore thumb from us.

(And for Creator's sake, don't hand me a bunch of rags and consider it Solas's garments. I'll bash your head in in the smithing hammer.)

Drafts and sketches are in the table in the middle of the room, all posted up. Good luck. Maker be with you. And work safe, some things do tend to explode when you're not careful.

~ML"

All Varric noticed was that it did not say anything about Mithiin's clothes. Are they going to make that too, or she had something ready? Just as he was about to conclude some sort of hypothesis, Mithiin runs up the stairs to greet him, all with a proud smile on her face, despite the dirt and the evident fatigue. She had a workshop apron on, but it looked like she did not need to bother because the dirt and... glitter was everywhere her person. "Hello, Varric!" She beams. "Wanted to see your clothes for the ball?"

"Of course." Varric grins. "So I could already imagine how dashing I would look."

Mithiin giggles as she takes off her dirty gloves and stuffs them in her work apron, and pulls the set of body frames that were Varric's size to her direction, so they'd be in clearer view. So far, all they have done is his plate armor and the shirt, but the coat seems like an easy job considering the dedication Mithiin is pouring on it.

"Wow." Varric's surprised look turned to a satisfied smile. "It looks just like the sketch. You're amazing, Wishes."

"Thank you!" She giggles. "We're going to have a test fit next week, so we could fix anything if you happen to get fat while we're working." The ear-to-ear smile shows itself before she knew it. "Also to see if we need to secure anything else. Don't want anything to fall off, do we?"

"You're terribly dedicated about this, Wishes." Varric steps closer to the body frames and inspects the garments closer. He never found himself a fan of fashion, but damn, these are fine clothes. The Inquisition is putting all of its funds to good use. "Did this artistic side of yours come with the first-meeting childishness, or did I just miss this completely?"

"Oh, Varric, you don't know." She winks. "A little crazy is needed for the artistic stuff to surface, you know."

..

Varric came in way too early, it seems.

He's waited for one week, and dealt through Cassandra's screams of command and Cole's odd rambling, but it's the weekend and its test fit day, and damn, he's excited. He had headed to the undercroft to pick up his set, and was about to announce his presence, when he saw three figures on the other end of the room.

The two were Dagna and Harrit, that's for sure. The third has her long creamy silver hair down her shoulder blades and was half-naked, her thin frame shivering from the cold air from the waterfall. Varric walks closer as Dagna hands her a white blouse, but not before Varric saw some scars down her lower back, marring the dark tattoos resembling halla horns—

Oh. Mithiin.

"Inquisitor," Dagna calls out of concern, and wraps her pale blue shirt on her shoulders. Mithiin stands up and slips it on with fumbling hands. She already has her pants on, and was about to slip on her boots, picking up the black leather boot beside her.

"I can come back," Varric calls out. "If this is a wrong time, I could come back."

Shit. That was the wrong decision. He could have just left and pretended that he never saw her, but no, he had to come closer and announced her presence. Dagna turned to him, surprised, while Harrit just pretended to poke through the other frames.

Instead of hiding, Mithiin faced Varric, half-naked and barefoot, with her creamy silver hair covering half her chest and back. She pulls her shirt closer and buttons the rest of it as quick as fingers could manage. It took Varric to realize that this was the first time that he had seen her with her hair down. And from his position, Varric can still see the thin, pale scars from her chest up to her neck, and one huge scar over her collarbone.

"No, no!" She walks past him to the corner with racks of body frames, and pulls out the one with Varric's name on it. "I did ask you to come. Go, try it on. Tell me what you think."

By this point, Harrit helps him in his armor as Dagna helps Mithiin dress back to her usual Skyhold clothes, with their backs facing each other, but the dwarf can't help but steal glances to Mithiin's direction as she dresses. It's not the fact that she's half-naked, it's the fact that he would have expected her to hide or something when Varric came in. But she seems okay with it, and she did not seem to mind.

"Shouldn't we be dressing in different rooms?"

A pause, before she responds. "No," Mithiin said. Varric didn't see it, but he was pretty certain that she smiled. "I want to personally hear what you think."

After an hour, he was finished. The plate was on him, the scarf was around his neck and the white shirt covered whatever signs of armor there is. And the blue-green trench coat did a marvelous job of sealing the deal, and the boots felt like the best pair of footwear he's had so far.

"Run around. Carry Bianca," Dagna suggest "See if it's all good and comfortable."

And he did, picking up Bianca and running around with it like usual. It still felt like his usual outfit. It felt incredible. He picked up Bianca, and he shot a bolt or two, right in the waterfall's direction. He skipped and jumped and it still feels correct. Lavellan, already back in her clothes, tried to do a little spar with him with a blunt, failure sword lying around, just to see if he could fight with it, and sure enough, he was still his huge, elusive self.

Dancing with this would be marvelous.

"We already shot the armor with all the types of crossbow bolts and arrows we could think of, so we're certain that arrows are the least of your problems," Lavellan says. "Glad it's all perfect."

"How about you?" Varric asks, as he brings Bianca down and started to unbutton his cuffs. "Do you have armor underneath your dress?"

He's answered by laughter.

"I'm a mage!" She giggles. "Why would I need plate armor? Plus, enemies never get past you guys, do they?"

He merely nods, as Lavellan turns her back on him, letting him undress. The dwarf thanked her again for her work, and she flashes her trademark smile, saying that it's no big deal and that it's her job to ensure their satisfaction. After he's back on his tunic and pants and his usual, boring hunting boots, they exchanged goodbyes and Varric headed to bed, in the Inquisition's tavern.

But Varric couldn't sleep. He grabbed his nightstand; looking for that Song of Seasons book he tried reading, until he remembered that he returned it three weeks back. Now he wished he have not, as he tossed and turned on the bed, sleep not as elusive as before.

Yes, scars were a common thing — Varric has his fair share, yes. But nothing that many. Mithiin has one on her face, a thin one that's barely noticeable, right across her left brow and eye, marring her vallaslin a little. But the story of how the ones on her body got there will probably scare him. And that thick one across her collarbone will probably give him nightmares.

Varric doesn't know if he wanted to know the story behind that scar, but if he ever did, he's sure words would not be enough to tell it.