Dessert was some Orlesian thing that only Josephine, Leliana and Vivienne could pronounce. It was custard, Trevelyan knew. She ended up stirring it and not really eating it. Surana noticed her distraction. "You can go after him, you know. I'll cover with your ambassador."
"Are you sure?" Trevelyan replied. "I don't want to abandon you."
"Abandon me? Because of you I'm having dinner with some of my closest friends. Don't worry about me."
Trevelyan glanced at Josephine before she agreed, but Blackwall was making her laugh and if she was going, now was the time. "Thanks!" she said, before slipping carefully out of the hall.
Sera and Isabela were molding their custard into more and more obscene shapes and giggling together, while Aveline complained bitterly about Orlesians and their delicacies.
Varric was remembering the last time he had had custard, how Hawke had flicked a spoonful of it into his chest hair, and the way she had laughed…
"Sunlight shines in her hair. She smiles, reaches to brush the custard off. Laughs, her laugh reaches out, tangles with yours, bringing it out of you more than anything else ever does. Without her laugh yours is quieter, soft, strained, strangled. Her absence weighs on your chest-"
"Kid," Varric said, quiet but firm. "That's enough." Everyone around him was staring, but he looked down at his hands. His glass was empty. "I'm going to get something more to drink," he announced, and left. Chase growled at Solas again before following him.
"Cole," Solas said. "I would not suggest you abandon your purpose, but perhaps, just for tonight…."
"You want me to stop trying to help them?"
"I do not think they appreciate having their feelings on Hawke announced to each other," Solas said gently.
"What is that...spirit?" Bethany asked.
"He is compassion," Solas explained.
"More like creepy," Sera argued.
"Compassion! But that's so rare!" Merrill exclaimed.
"Rare like Justice?" Aveline asked warily. Sebastian seemed uneasy as well.
"Cole is a spirit, he has possessed no one," Solas said.
"Not yet," Aveline replied.
"I won't possess anyone!" Cole argued.
Isabela shrugged. "Varric seemed fine with him, as long as he stays out of my head and keeps to himself, what's the harm?"
Aveline sighed. "You are far too easy to please…"
Isabela laughed. "We all know that."
Inquisitor Trevelyan found Cullen in his office, pacing. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Why did you leave like that?"
"I was wrong," he said, putting his hands on his desk.
"Wrong? About what?"
"About her, about Rhea."
Trevelyan stared, at a loss for words. "About...about what I asked you?"
Cullen looked at her. "She admitted to me she uses blood magic."
"Oh."
"Oh? That's it? You learn the Hero of Fereldan is a blood mage and all you say is 'oh'?" Cullen demanded.
"What do you want me to say?" Trevelyan replied heatedly. "'Let's make her tranquil'? She's a Grey Warden, and she saved Fereldan. What is there to say?"
"Something! We could make her leave Skyhold, at least!"
"Why? Did she hurt someone here?" Trevelyan asked. "Has she used blood magic inside our walls?"
"Well...no, but you want the Inquisition to harbour a blood mage?"
The Inquisitor laughed. "Harbour a blood mage from whom, exactly? The Templars? The Chantry? We are the only authority left."
"This is exactly why we should take a stand on such matters."
"By making an enemy out of the Hero of Fereldan? After just recently allying with the Grey Wardens, who also used blood magic? What exactly did she say to you?" Cullen looked down. "Cullen," Trevelyan said gently, "is it possible you're just upset that she isn't who you thought she was?"
He met her eyes. "Blood mages tortured me, and she rescued me from them. I said horrible things to her...and always wanted to take them back, but then to find out she is a blood mage as well…."
Trevelyan hugged him. "I'm sorry. If it makes you feel any better, I expected her to be taller." Cullen laughed into her neck.
Varric was not looking for Fenris, but apparently there were a limited number of battlements in Skyhold. Stupid massive castle.
The elf snapped, "I don't want to be comforted, Isabela!" without turning around.
"Well, that's good," Varric replied. "Because the Rivaini seems to have made a new friend and I don't see her leaving the party anytime soon." Fenris turned to look at him. "Anyway, I didn't come out here looking for you. I'll be on my way."
He made it almost to the stairs when Fenris said, "Wait, dwarf."
Varric sighed, and Chase whined. "It's a good thing I brought more alcohol," Varric said, producing the bottle of wine he had grabbed on his way out here.
He patted the mabari and approached Fenris. "This is where Hawke met the Inquisitor," Varric told him. "When I introduced them... Stupid thing to do, in hindsight." He took a drink from the bottle, and passed it to Fenris.
"Hawke insisted, I assume," Fenris replied, taking a drink.
"That she did. Stubborn woman."
Fenris eyed Varric out of the corner of his vision. "Varric…."
"Elf," Varric warned, "if your next words are about me and Hawke, I swear to Andraste Bianca and I will-"
"I was going to say," Fenris said with a faint smirk, passing Varric back the bottle, "it's a real nice night for an evening."
Varric chuckled, and took a drink. "You're so full of shit."
"Perhaps," Fenris replied, "but I enjoy my organs where they are."
Varric sighed. "Alright elf, tell me about you and Hawke. Hawke never told me why you two didn't get back together. It was the one plot hole when I wrote my book."
"'The one'?" Fenris repeated doubtfully.
"Shut up and answer the question."
Fenris took the bottle back. "She didn't tell me, either," he said.
"Oh."
"Eventually I figured out she had feelings for you."
"She...said that?" Varric asked.
"No, but it was obvious."
"Obvious," Varric repeated. "Right."
