A Night for Dancing

A thousand shining lights dotted a still, night sky overhead. Beneath the shimmering expanse, Inquisitor Herah Adaar strode towards a magnificent palace that shone like a beacon against the night. The ornate structure of the Winter Palace was a striking construct of Orlesian style, drowning out the dark countryside for miles around. Gold and marble and a myriad of other fine materials seemed to glisten from every surface.

In spite of its crass decadence, Herah couldn't deny that it was an impressive sight to behold.

Although she was dressed in fine military regalia herself, the Inquisitor felt almost shabby in comparison. The members of the Inquisition were far more functionally dressed than any of the Orlesian nobles they passed on the path leading up to the palace. Herah, Josephine and their guard of honour seemed to stand out vividly against the assembled nobility of Orlais and the elaborate beacon of wealth and status before them. Still, at least she wasn't wearing a dress. Not that Herah inherently minded, she had no love for these sorts of affairs. It was only out of necessity that she was here at all. With the sheer amount of lives that were potentially at stake, how could she do any less? So here she was, suffering under the gaze of a hundred onlookers who had come to gawk at the qunari Inquisitor.

Attempting to ignore the stares, the qunari furrowed her brow as she adjusted her formal attire. She readily accepted that she didn't have an eye for such things, but the bright red uniform and blue sash around her torso seemed to clash in her view. Herah scowled as she tried to make her sash sit right. It just didn't feel right to her. She idly thought how telling it was that she found being covered in silk and ribbons less comfortable than being covered in sweat and blood.

Josephine, the Inquisition's Ambassador, glanced over from the qunari's side, "I do wish you'd stop fussing. It's perfectly fine as it is and you can't walk into the grand hall playing about with your attire so." She hissed in a frantic whisper, hidden by an easy smile as she waved cordially to the gathered nobility.

"It doesn't feel right, none of it does." Herah moaned with a sigh, desperately wishing she was back in her armour. "You know I'm no good with this Josephine, all of … this." She motioned broadly to everything in the vicinity and beyond.

The Antivan sighed, "Inquisitor, you must be more patient, we have not even entered the palace yet. You must show a bit more decorum if we are to stop the assassination of the Empress." She admonished calmly with something of a steely undercurrent to her voice. The Ambassador was in full diplomacy mode now.

Herah sighed deeply and tried her best to ignore the ever present feeling of vulnerability. She really wished that they did not have to go through with this farce. Fancy balls and parties were alien to her, as was the so called 'Game' of politics, backstabbing and fake smiles that the nobility liked to play. She'd take the bloodiest, muddiest battlefield in all of Thedas over this, and a few dragons. Still, she knew what was at stake here. So, for the good of Thedas, she'd attempt to put aside her ever present feelings of discomfort and weakness.

When they finally reached the decorative front gates to the palace proper, Herah knew there was no turning back. She gulped audibly as the ornate entrance swung open.

Josephine silently prayed to the Maker.

xxx

Marian quietly sashayed through the heavy throngs of Orlesians. Maker, there seemed to be so many of them. All of them idiot nobles, all of them claiming to be on first name terms with either the Inquisitor, the Empress, the late Divine even or anyone else deemed suitably important.

And all of them masked, the Champion thought with an idle smirk.

A long standing fashion in the Empire, absolutely anyone and everyone of note wore an elaborate mask denoting their wealth and their standing in society. The Orlesians had many strange and bizarre fashions, but this one was actually quite useful for Marian's purposes.

She reached up to idly adjust her own alabaster mask as it slipped a little from her face. Her mask was a simple fare, made to resemble the styles of the surrounding nobility but not copy any one exactly. Orlesians could be finicky and possessive about their precious masks. As with the rest of her attire, Marian had made to blend in to the backdrop of Orlesian high society. She wore a rich burgundy dress, slim enough to highlight her rather fetching figure yet roomy enough to give her the ability to move quickly if the need arose. An old relic from Kirkwall some suitor had gifted to her. She couldn't even remember his name, the man was rather dull and entirely the wrong sex for Marian, but he had an eye for dresses it seemed.

Unlike the rest of Inquisition party, Marian was here incognito. Well, the prominent members of the Inquisition at least were here as honoured guests, but Marian knew that the royal guards had already been infiltrated by Leliana's agents. She had already spotted a few faces she recognised milling about, subtly keeping an eye on affairs whilst posing as waiters, royal guards and whatnot. Such was Marian's role for the moment, to watch and wait. Her task was simply to be on hand just in case the plot to assassinate Celene bore fruit. It was not a role she was particularly used to in these sorts of grand plans, but the Champion was nothing if not eager for the challenge. She'd done well so far, no one had recognised her, or at least if they had, they said nothing. Not even the other members of the Inquisition knew she was here in the heart of the Winter Palace. Well, no one except for Leliana of course.

The redheaded Spymaster had in fact been the one instrumental in getting Marian inside the palace. She had first approached the Champion back at Skyhold and proposed the plan. It seemed so bizarre at first – That Leliana would go to Marian when she had a host of spy's, assassins and saboteurs at her disposal. Regardless of the redhead's reasons, Marian had considered it for all of five seconds before jumping at the idea. It was not the first time Marian had infiltrated a high society Orlesian soiree, and she'd found the last time to be such raucous fun. Even if she had been imprisoned and almost eaten alive by a wyvern.

Putting fond memories to rest, Marian rounded yet another marble decked corner. Every room, every corridor and seemingly everything else within the palace was so richly decorated, from the grandest dining rooms, right down to the servant's door handles. She felt that she was getting lost, though that could just be a result of all the false smiles, ridiculous outfits and the stench of sweat and sweet perfumes that seemed to wash over her.

"Would you care for some ham, Madame?" Marian turned to see a young elven servant offering a plate laden with ham, the slices all intricately layered over each other in a precise, symmetrical circle. The centre of the display was raised with a small wooden rod to make a ham tent, like one would see at a circus or fair. It even had a small piece of shaped ham serving as a flag, wafting in the imaginary wind. Even the food was pretentious here.

"Thanks." Marian took a slice quickly, making to fit in with the crowd.

The stunned expression on the elven girl's face told her otherwise.

The Champion froze for a second before belatedly remembering that it wasn't proper in Orlais to thank the servants. Or anyone else for that matter.

She raised her slice of ham as one might a finger and opened her mouth to say something suitable to explain her momentary forgetfulness of courtly protocol. Then she thought better of it, and flashed the elven girl a cheeky smile before speeding off into the crowd.

Apart from her distinct lack of Orlesian manners, everything was going so smoothly that she could hardly imagine an assassination taking place. Maybe she should expect one simply because everything was going smoothly. This was Orlais after all. A people who could make ham taste of despair were capable of anything. It was certainly a far cry from life in Kirkwall, where everything seemed to be going wrong even if it wasn't.

Her keen gaze caught sight of Commander Cullen, sweating nervously as he tried in vain to ward off a gaggle of Orlesian ladies. All of whom seemed to have taken quite the interest in the former templar. Marian chuckled at his predicament, she considered going to his aid for a moment, he had helped her greatly back in Kirkwall after all, but then she decided she was having too much fun watching him squirm. She could rescue him later, if he survived long enough.

She reminded herself to focus on her mission, which at that moment was to observe and be on watch for any potential trouble. If her gut was leading her right, which it usually was, then it was the Inquisitor she should be watching closest tonight. Marian hadn't been able to catch a glimpse of the horned woman so far and idly wondered what the qunari would be wearing to the ball.

Her train of thought veered off into a slideshow of images, Herah Adaar in a series of dresses: glamourous, regal and even scant. Marian smirked at each and every one of the delicious thoughts.

"Enjoying the party, Champion?" Marian's thoughts were unwillingly dragged back to reality by the accented voice of Leliana, leaning lightly against a table as she looked over to the Champion with a soft, sly smile and a knowing eye.

Marian approached the Spymaster cautiously, "It's alright I suppose, not enough beheadings for my taste though."

The redhead chuckled at that. "Hang around dear Champion, the night is young yet." She smirked with a twinkle in her eyes. Even with an offhand joke, Marian found it hard to read the other woman. Though she supposed the Orlesian would make a poor spymaster otherwise.

"What about you? You seem happy enough here."

Leliana inhaled deeply before answering, gazing out over the multitude of couples dancing on the floor below. "This is the Winter Palace, the host of the court of the most powerful nation in Thedas, the beating heart of the Game. Here, deals and alliances are brokered that will change the entire world, for better or worse." She turned to look directly into Marian's eyes with intense fire. "So yes, I am happy enough here."

"Right … fair enough then." Marian wasn't sure if she'd ever understand the redhead.

Leliana laughed softly once more and all of a sudden the fire was gone, "Ah, forgive me, I forget that you too are not a fan of such things. Though you do have a habit for shaping important events otherwise, don't you Champion?"

Marian rubbed at the back of her neck awkwardly as she let loose a weary chuckle, "Not that I try to."

"No? Well, you've certainly had an impact on the world regardless. Perhaps there's more to come from you yet?"

"Maker I hope not," Marian muttered, "all the troubles I had in Kirkwall were enough for a lifetime."

The redhead laughed again at that. "I suppose you are right, though you appear to have picked a poor path if that is the case." At Marian's quirked brow, Leliana continued, "Have you not joined the Inquisition? Have you not pledged to help save the world from Corypheus, an old adversary of yours?"

The Champion sighed heavily, she wanted to take off her mask and rub at her eyes, but was mindful to keep her disguise up.

"It's the Inquisitor's fight now," She murmured softly, more to herself than the Spymaster, "It is my fault after all, that he walks free. I'm just here to … to try and help make things right. Maker knows I can't solve this one on my own." The admission came surprisingly easy to her lips with a smile.

Leliana regarded her carefully for a few moments before replying, "You know, I believe you're more alike than you think. The Inquisitor and yourself I mean." At Marian's confused look the redhead continued with a smile, "You mean to tell me you haven't noticed it yourself? Maker, you are hopeless Champion. Well, the Inquisitor too is here to 'make things right', and seems to be willing to do whatever it takes. Even putting herself aside for the greater good, even doing the impossible, to make it so."

The Spymaster sauntered over to the railing that overlooked the dance floor, after a moment Marian joined her.

"Take tonight for instance, the Inquisitor is woefully unprepared for this dragon's den we call a court. Yet here she is anyway, she throws herself headfirst into danger because it is necessary, because she must." The redhead indicated to the other side of the room with a quirk of her head. "And, rather like yourself, she manages to succeed, excel even, time after time. It is remarkable."

Marian followed Leliana's gaze and found the Inquisitor across the hall. Marian scowled involuntary at seeing the Inquisitor clad in the same bright red and blue ensemble that the rest of the Inquisition leadership wore. She had been looking forward to seeing the qunari in a dress. Oh well, maybe the next time there was a ball or banquet.

The grey skinned woman seemed at a cursory glance to be coping just fine amongst the finely dressed vultures that encircled her. Still, Marian could tell that Herah was feeling her nerves, there was something forced about her smile, her posture was a little too straight, straighter than normal. There was a slight involuntary twitch to the qunari's right hand, as if yearning to be reunited with her sword.

How am I noticing all of that? Maker, I really need to stop watching her so much.

Despite those minor tells that no one but a lovesick Champion or the most observant of spies could see, the Inquisitor's head seemed to stand proud on her shoulders. Her gaze was assured and confident as she regarded those around her and was engaged in conversation. No doubt the horned woman was on edge in this foreign battlefield. It was more than likely that thinly veiled barbs and jeers were finding their way to her ears, but in spite of all that, Herah seemed to be impervious. She was pure strength even when surrounded by vultures and harpies. Marian suddenly became incensed. These people all around them were the very ones that Herah and the rest of the Inquisition were working so hard to save. Yet here and now all they could do was look down on the Inquisitor and ridicule all that she had accomplished. Yet in spite of that, Herah still fought to keep them all safe. Marian's admiration for her rose only further.

The qunari was speaking with a noble woman with short blonde hair on the edge of the dance floor. This stranger was striking and appeared to move with the precise yet delicate grace of a highly trained bard. Barely a few moments later, the qunari and human were making their way onto the dance floor. Some indiscreet gasps and murmurs seemed to echo around the room as all eyes fell on the two women. The band began to play and right on que, the Inquisitor was dancing with the stranger.

"That is the Grand Duchess, Florianne de Chalons." Leliana provided the answer to the unspoken question, watching the dance idly as though she were barely interested at all, Marian suspected otherwise. "The Empresses' cousin, a dangerous woman by all accounts."

"Or a potential source of information." Marian put forth, narrowing her eyes slightly at the dancers below. "Or both even."

Leliana laughed softly and drew Marian's attention again, "My dear Champion, I do believe you're beginning to learn the Game."

Marian had to chuckle at that, "Hopefully not too much."

The Spymaster shook her head with a soft, humoured smile, "What is it they say? You can take the woman out of Ferelden, but you can't take Ferelden out of the woman." She chuckled again at her joke, "Always a pleasure, Champion." She turned and paced away, leaving the Champion alone to gaze down at the strikingly mismatched pair.

While she couldn't help but feel the annoying sensation of envy as she watched the dance, she also had to admire the way the pair moved together on the floor. While the Grand Duchess had generations of breeding and training for such occasions, the Inquisitor was acting on instinct and a handful of hasty lessons. Yet, there was something purposeful about the way Herah moved, it was just the same when the qunari was in a battle. Leliana was right, Herah had a knack for throwing herself into these alien situations, and more often than not, she thrived.

It was certainly something to behold, and Marian took the time to behold it.

Marian found herself wondering what Herah might have done with her life in different circumstances, if the sky hadn't opened or if she hadn't been born into a world of humans. The Champion couldn't really imagine the Inquisitor as anything else, other than a warrior-hero that is. As quiet and stern and standoffish as Herah could be at times, Marian felt that the grey skinned woman genuinely relished her work.

Marian mentally shook herself, crisply plucking a fresh wine glass from a passing servant's tray to help. She really needed to take her gaze away from the Inquisitor before she went completely insane. There was no chance of the attack happening right then and there, not with all these royal guards and Inquisition members littered about the hall. As the music wound up to its end, the dancers bowed to each other and exited the floor. Herah among them, walking away hand in hand with the Grand Duchess as new dancers took to the floor. She knew it was probably just childish jealously, but Marian couldn't help but feel a distinct dislike for the blonde noblewoman.

An outbreak of shrill laughter drew her attention. Looking over her shoulder, Marian caught sight of Cullen, desperately trying to edge away from the apparently very determined ladies he had "acquired". Chuckling to herself, Marian finally decided to take pity. Downing her glass she sauntered over to save the hopeless Commander.

"Commander Cullen," She began with easy confidence as she strode right through the gaggle, all of the brightly decorated women scowled her way. They each looked gravely affronted that another 'challenger' had joined the fray. They shot Marian vicious scowls and glares as the Champion walked right up to the former templar. "I do believe you owe me a dance, Messere." She offered her hand with a smirk.

Cullen looked up with a grimace at the latest lady to demand his attentions, after a moment, his face changed dramatically as he recognised Marian. He spent a whole five seconds silently gauging his chances with the gaggle of Orlesian noblewomen, or with the Champion. Eventually, his arm jumped forward and grasped Marian's hand, leaving the Orlesian ladies behind. A collective disappointed groan filled the air.

"Thank you," the Commander murmured with no small amount of fatigue when they were clear, "Maker's breath. I thought they'd never leave me alone." He half glanced back over his shoulder with something of a fearful look.

Marian chuckled as she led him away and to relative safety, "They seemed quite taken with you. You sure you don't want me to leave you to it?" She quizzed with an amused, raised eyebrow.

The look on Cullen's face was priceless. "Champion! No, please!" He beseeched in a horrified whisper, eyes darting about for more Orlesian ladies ready to pounce on him.

"Relax," Marian chuckling once more at his plight as she waved away his fears with a vague hand gesture, "consider this my repayment for what you did for me back in Kirkwall."

The Commander was silent for a few moments more, "Maker, that all seems a lifetime ago now." He sounded so solemn all of a sudden, much older.

"I don't think I ever thanked you did I?" Marian quirked her head to the side in thought. "Maker, it was all such a blur back then."

"It was only the right thing to do." Cullen murmured, waving away her concern. "Meredith had gone beyond the pale by that point. Perhaps I should have acted sooner than I did."

"You did what you had to do when it counted. I can't imagine it was an easy thing to do, going against your commanding officer like that." Marian offered.

The Commander chuckled at that. "Easier than taking on the Champion of Kirkwall, I imagine."

Marian laughed as well, "I would have gone easy on you." She teased.

"Oh no you wouldn't, I've seen you fight before. I've fought alongside you, remember?"

Marian couldn't help but smirk. "Well, I'm glad we're allies in this war at least."

"As am I, though I hope this one has a cleaner resolution."

The band picked up a new song and a plethora of new dancers swiftly switched places with the old ones. A wicked smirk crossed Marian's face and she held onto the Commander. They soon reached the dance floor, whereupon Cullen realised her intent and started to pull back.

"Wait, Champion! I thought you were just using that as an excuse! I can't dance!" He managed to pull his hand free but he did not run.

Marian half sighed, half chuckled at his expense. This was a man who had fought countless demons, abominations and Maker only knows what.

"Commander, if those lady friends of yours see you walking about without a dance partner, you'll likely never be free of company ever again." Marian put to him with a humoured smile and an open hand.

She could see the cogs turning in his logical mind. He gulped once. Then he took her hand again with a grimace.

Marian simply chuckled as she led the way.

xxx

Herah had not had much experience of courtly intrigue before this night, and after this night she resolved to have as little to do with it as possible. It shouldn't be that difficult to avoid, she was a qunari after all, the feared and maligned race of butchers and heretics. For once, she was glad of that label. Such monsters were never consulted on political matters, or invited to fancy balls. Not that it helped her much tonight it seemed, her being the Inquisitor obviously overrode her 'bestial' nature in the eyes of the aristocracy, at least enough for them to speak to her in false tones and behind those ostentatious masks.

She'd even been invited to dance, that was more terrifying than taking on a pair of dragons with nothing but a bread knife. She was certain that it had just been a ploy to ridicule her in front of the assembled court. Despite her instincts screaming at her to run, she'd heard her Ambassador's remonstrations still ringing in her ears and had accepted the Grand Duchess' invitation with what she hoped was a graceful smile. Somehow she'd managed to manoeuvre through the dancing without loss of limb, which was a victory in and of itself.

So for now at least, she was free of the dance floor. She had managed to find a moment of solitude, simply watching the crowd as the ball wound along at a leisurely pace.

"Inquisitor." The clipped greeting of Cassandra drew her attention to a welcome, familiar face. Even if that face was scowling in deep annoyance.

Herah moved closer and whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "You look just how I feel about all of this."

The Seeker chuckled, her face softening for a brief moment. "I'm glad at least one other person here retains their sanity." She gazed out at the ballroom and shook her head a little in disbelief. "How anyone can enjoy this farce while thousands of men and women are fighting beyond these walls is beyond me."

Herah hummed in agreement, "I'd much rather take Corypheus over fancy balls any day."

"Be careful what you wish for. You might inadvertently summon him here." Cassandra warned with a slight smile. "Though I must admit, I share your sentiments." Her face scrunched up in casual disgust again as she caught sight of something that was apparently particularly offensive to her.

Herah followed suit, squinting slightly in confusion as she struggled to find what had drawn the Seekers attention. The pair peered out onto the dance floor as the dancers glided around in rhythm. She caught sight of bold red and blue, and Herah suddenly realised with surprise that Commander Cullen was one of the figures flitting back and forth. Though she was no expert, the qunari thought that he was surprisingly good at the dance. Sashaying along arm in arm with the former templar was a woman who looked strikingly familiar.

Wait, is that … Marian?

Cassandra made a disgusted sound, "Honestly, the Commander is the last person I would have pictured on a dance floor. I thought he had more sense than that." She shook her head in mild disbelief.

Herah murmured a mild grunt in agreement, though she was paying far more attention to his partner than the Commander himself. Perhaps the Seeker didn't recognise the Champion. Not surprising really, Marian had never presented herself in such an elegant and sophisticated way as she did now. Even masked and dressed in finery, Herah could identify Marian at little more than a glance. The simple white mask swept down to a point over the tip of her nose, fittingly putting to mind the beak of a hawk. The angular slits for her vision somehow seemed to highlight her clear blue eyes. Her short, jet black hair was styled in a smooth wave, a sharp contrast to the usual mess of spiky bangs. The Champion was clad in a rich burgundy dress that accentuated the femininity of the human's toned figure.

Femininity was perhaps the last word that Herah would have normally associated with Marian Hawke, but here she was, dancing away with all the grace and elegance of an elven empress from a storybook. How could someone so brash and brutish just drop all of that and suddenly appear so stylish and refined? Wait, that wasn't quite right. Herah could still see the warrior within the human woman dancing merely several feet away. It was in the toned muscle underneath the soft fabric. The sharp, precise placement of foot and body, almost as if she were on the battlefield. The warrior was certainly still there, striking and proud as she tamed the dance to her will. Seeing the human warrior putting her skills to work on a dance floor was somehow mesmerising. It was a side to the Champion that the Inquisitor had certainly not expected to see. She had been surprised by Marian on a few occasions before now, and each time Herah had been increasingly impressed. This was no exception. She was also suitably impressed by just how good the Champion looked in a dress. Herah wondered curiously what Marian would look like without-

Maker! What in Thedas am I thinking? Herah mentally cursed as she belatedly realised just how much attention she was giving to the Champion's 'femininity'.

As the Champion and Commander spun round and round in a lazy circle, Marian's eyes left her partner for a moment and found the Inquisitor. Her smile deepened into a familiar smirk and she winked with a fiery look, before the dance carried on and she was swept deeper into the crowd.

Herah was frozen in place as her cheeks burned and she continued to watch the dance, dumbfounded. She felt a sudden, bizarre urge to be the one partnering Marian, not Cullen. Her collar felt increasingly tight, more so than it should have been. She craned her neck as she tried to keep Marian in sight among the plethora of dancing nobles. A thought she never dreamed she would think came to her.

Maker, do I-

"Inquisitor?" Leliana's voice startled the qunari and almost made her jump a full ten feet. "Is … something amiss?" She quizzed with a furrowed expression. Cassandra was still at her side as well. The pair of them gazed at the Inquisitor in silent appraisal with narrowed eyes.

"Yes? No- I mean, no, everything is fine." Herah managed to get out, her voice somewhat hoarse all of a sudden.

Leliana and Cassandra shared a look for a second. Then they returned to business, probably writing off Herah's sudden lack of composure as nerves. They weren't entirely wrong.

"Inquisitor, we need to move. There is no telling how much time we have before the main event." Leliana purred in a low voice to avoid oversharing with any of the nearby guests.

"Yes, of course." Herah made to follow the Spymaster as she led the qunari from the ballroom.

Herah again found herself glancing back over to the dance floor where Marian still worked her magic. The qunari's cheeks flared a little again as that thought re-emerged once more.

Maker, I think I do.

If nothing else happened that night, it had been revealing at the very least. Though Herah would be surprised if that was all the night had in store for her.

xxx

A few hours later and Herah was utterly exhausted, and that was probably an understatement. What a night it had been, not content with all the dancing, alcohol and heady conversation, fate had thrown in an attempted assassination in the qunari's lap. She'd managed to prevent the Grand Duchess from carrying out her scheme, foiling her and exposing her plans to overthrow the Empress and subject the Empire to Corypheus' will in front of the entire assembled court.

Empress Celene had naturally been most grateful, not only for saving her life and throne, but also her once shattered relationship: The Empress of Orlais and the Elven Ambassador Briala of all the possibilities. Already the scandal was reverberating around the palace and would reach all corners of Orlais before long. Not that Celene seemed to care. She'd proclaimed Briala as the Marquise of the Dales to the assembled court with pride. How all of that had happened, Herah was not entirely certain. Given how crazy the night had been, her head was spinning. To top it all off, she'd somehow gained a new ally, courtesy of the Empress herself. The apostate Morrigan was a curious figure, Herah was yet to decide whether she could truly trust the mysterious woman, but she was loathe to turn down any offer of help, especially when that help had been instrumental in ending the last Blight.

For the first time since arriving at the Winter-Palace many hours ago, Herah found herself blissfully alone. She stood on a secluded balcony, just off from the main ballroom. The rabble of noble guests was beginning to gradually retire for the evening, with the main entertainment of political skulduggery and foiled assassinations over with, many looked forward to a good night's rest. The gentle stirrings of music wafted over her from within the hall, dances still being performed by those few hardy souls not yet spent. Herah deeply inhaled the fresh night air, savouring the relative quiet before surrendering herself to the court once more to make her exit. Maybe she could vault over the balcony and make a break for Skyhold through the forests that surrounded the palace. The idea had promise, but was probably not too wise. Maker only knows what lurked amongst the trees below.

A series of gentle footsteps approached Herah from behind, and she turned her head to see Marian approach her. The Champion had removed her mask and her hair was messier than before, much more like her usual self. Smiling idly, the human said nothing at first, opting to simply join the qunari at the balcony and gaze out into the woods beyond.

"It's been quite the night." Marian stated casually after a while.

"Yes, it has." Herah replied in kind.

Human and qunari turned to each other at the same time. They both smiled and chuckled softly before they again fell into another comfortable silence. Herah eased her eyes shut as she relaxed her posture a little.

"You know," The Champion's voice drew Herah back to the present, the human idly toying with some ribbon decorating the balcony, "I do believe I owe you a dance."

Herah turned to the human with a blush rising on her cheeks, she wasn't expecting this. She didn't know how to react to this. "Y- You do?" She faltered, almost coughing and tripping over those two words alone.

"Well, not really," Marian began with a small smile, "but after everything that's been going on here tonight … I think you deserve one." Her smile grew shy, a rare sight on the Champion. "So how about it Horns, care to dance?" She offered her hand.

Herah swallowed with a distinct lack of grace. "Oh- I, err- would not want you to feel … obligated or anything." She chuckled a little awkwardly.

Then it was the human's turn to chuckle, "I don't offer my dances to just anyone Horns." She smirked with a playful glint in her eye. "Besides, after the night you've had, you could do to let your horns down, so to speak." She winked at the qunari, a different, somewhat fragile looking smile in place.

"I really- well … there is so much yet to do, what with Adamant and all-" Herah stuttered out, more than a little taken aback and unsure.

"Come on Herah," Marian coaxed the qunari gently, "all of that can wait. For now, just let yourself relax, just for once."

There was definitely something about the human's smile that Herah couldn't quite define, but whatever it was, it seemed to keep her from running somehow. Herah stood frozen for a moment. She glanced back towards the ballroom with something of a longing expression. For a fleeting instant, running seemed an adequate option. She felt like a halla, caught under the hunter's gaze. Though she was no halla, and the look in Marian's eyes was nothing like a hunter's.

Summoning her courage, she reached out gingerly and took the Champion's hand. Marian's smile gave way to her full bodied smirk, and she gently pulled the horned woman into a loose hold, bringing their bodies close together.

Unable to say a word, Herah nervously swallowed and numbly followed the human as they began to lazily waltz about the balcony. The qunari was idly aware that they were just out of sync with the music and they weren't dancing in any style that Herah recognised, but it didn't seem to matter. Before long, Marian's moves became ever more exaggerated and ridiculous. Herah couldn't help but laugh, and Marian was laughing with her.

There was the music, the night sky and their laughter, and it was all perfect.