Dorian was right; Just add a little blood magic and it could have been any party in Tevinter. It made it oddly simple to negotiate, though at all the previous parties Varania had been one of the invisible slave elves, serving drinks and only losing her invisibility when a guest thought it would be amusing to grope her.
It was strange, being a guest of honor instead. She cringed when they were announced, one companion after the other, all with long gracious titles.
"Lady Lavellan, vanquisher of the rebel mages (It made no sense; She'd recruited them to join her), Leader of the Inquisition." The other titles were no less impressive and then, at the end, "The Inquisitor's elven manservant, Solas."
How dare they?
It took all her carefully cultivated self control to prevent turning around and walking out again. But this was important and she knew it. And of course, Solas repeatedly counseled her that what was between them could not get in the way of what needed to be done. That aside, whatever happened tonight, she needed the might of Orlais to help keep the south in one piece while she battled Corypheus. All her righteous indignation would have to wait.
For his part, Solas seemed utterly unperturbed. He gave her an altogether inappropriate smile when she mentioned it, getting his point across without saying a word. He was so languid and comfortable when she finally found him again, lounging in the corner with his glass half empty and his cheeks flushed. Varania couldn't help but be surprised at his attitude.
"I do adore the heady blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeates these events."
Varania wondered if she looked as surprised as she felt. "Have you been to court before?"
He frowned at her. "In the Fade." Varania nodded. In the Fade. Of course. She wondered if he'd ever experienced anything first hand at all. She wanted him to. She wanted to experience things too, besides war and with less deception and intrigue and more sex. But now wasn't the time.
Despite how adorable he looked in that Inquisition uniform and knowing it all should wait even so, she couldn't help but ask. "Dance with me?"
Solas smiled at her, even his expression slow. "Later," he offered. "It won't help you win the favor of the court by dancing with your elf."
"I'm an elf."
Solas shook his head. "Your goal must be to make them forget that."
Varania sighed. He was right.
She left him there, still lounging against the wall and slipping into a comfortable state of intoxication. She was a bit jealous of his ease. He was far from the only one who seemed to be enjoying the evening far more than she would, though her companions were in varying stages of comfort.
She'd brought them all, her entire inner circle, her advisors, even Loghain. She brought everyone who was willing to come as a guest, knowing that was the best way to get as many fighting hands into the building. Gaspard seemed pleased by her massive entourage as did the court. Whatever it took.
Cassandra was stiff and uncomfortable. Varric seemed to be taking notes. Cullen was apparently fending off admirers and Sera was picking pockets. On the other hand, Dorian looked at home and Leliana and Vivienne were clearly in their element. It gave her some hope that they'd manage to pull this off after all.
Even with their help, it was a complete and utter disaster. In the end, Celene was dead, Florianne was dead, Gaspard was blackmailed into submission and Briala was quietly gloating in the shadows. It wasn't the way she wanted to make elves worthy of respect, by making one the shadowy power behind the throne who was just as devious as Celene ever was.
But it was done and there was no going back now. Briala and Gaspard both pledged to support the Inquisition and as long as their alliance held up long enough to defeat Corypheus, Varania could deal with the aftermath later if she managed to survive.
Varania was good at survival, but even she had her doubts they'd all walk away from this in one piece.
Afterward, though a part of her wanted desperately to run away, she knew then it was time for Leliana and her people to work. It was time to be seen. It was time to watch cultured ladies faint all over themselves when Iron Bull swung a flustered looking Dorian out on to the dance floor and absolutely upstaged everyone else. It had been worth staying, for that moment if nothing else.
Varania found herself overwhelmed to the be the focus of so much attention. She extricated herself from a throng of insincere admirers and headed towards the balcony to tuck herself out of view of the door, hoping no one would notice she was missing for a while. The amount of wine imbibed by those around her was helping on that front. She'd carried a glass around herself and imagined she'd only taken a sip or two. But they refilled her glass at every opportunity. Her cheeks were flushed and she knew she'd had more wine than was strictly wise.
She slipped out into the night air only to find Celene's once advisor Morrigan already there, engaged in what appeared to be a very intense conversation with Loghain. It looked as if they knew each other, and very well though clearly not on entirely good terms. Varania considered just escaping again before they noticed her, but that wasn't the right thing to do here. Hiding aside, she needed to be the Inquisitor, so instead, she cleared her throat.
Loghain looked up first. He was scowling.
"Ah, Inquisitor," Morrigan said, the soft lilt of her voice dismissing Loghain's fury as if it wasn't there. She smiled broadly but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "We were just speaking of you. I was telling Warden Loghain that I planned on offering my skills to the Inquisition, now that my position at court is no longer required."
Loghain made a grumbling and reluctant reply. "Yes, I must admit, the witch does have a variety of knowledge that could be useful to you."
"That may be the kindest thing you've ever said to me." Morrigan laughed at him.
He didn't justify it with a verbal response, only frowned at her for a moment before turning to Varania. She wondered what this was about, but knew better than to ask now.
"If you'll excuse me," he said, nodding to Varania. "We'll speak more at Skyhold, should circumstances allow for it," he said, directed clearly to Morrigan.
"Perhaps." Morrigan's reply had none of her earlier joviality. Loghain left without another word for either of them. Varania considered asking and Morrigan seemed to recognize it.
"Don't ask, not here and not now, because I won't answer," she said. "For the moment at least, it is immaterial. However, there are many questions I can answer and perhaps even this question, should it become important." She canted her head, a swath of silky black hair falling over one eye. "If you will accept my assistance to the Inquisition."
Varania wasn't sure what to make of her. She had been honest about everything she'd offered thus far, but Leliana had suggested to be wary. But what better place to watch someone than right beside you? It seemed like a wise thought, something from the books Dorian suggested to her from the library. Many times, she'd read late into the night trying desperately to become the leader the Inquisition needed.
Often she read with Solas curled up on her lap and was certain she missed half of it, distracted by the sounds of his breathing and the soft expressions he made as he slept and explored the Fade.
Distracted like now, again. She quickly looked back at Morrigan. She was smiling knowingly.
"Yes," Varania said, trying to act like she hadn't just drifted off. Stupid wine. "The Inquisition would benefit from your knowledge I think."
"Thank you Inquisitor," Morrigan looked behind Varania as she spoke, her knowing expression only solidifying. "I will see you at Skyhold then." She floated past Varania like some exotic bird. Varania watched her go, seeing what Morrigan had as she turned.
Solas stood in the doorway, empty wine glass in one hand. He seemed just slightly disheveled. His ears were pink and his eyes were glassy.
"Hello vhenan," he said, smiling broadly before brushing past Morrigan and coming out to her. His normal graceful gait was different somehow, slower, looser.
"You're drunk." Her voice was both shocked and delighted. He gave her another languid smile.
"Probably," he admitted as he leaned up against the stone railing. "And perhaps not wise, but I found that after the second glass it didn't seem particularly important.
Varania couldn't help but laugh. "This is something I never thought I would see. You always refuse to join us for Wicked Grace and when Bull wants us to try some new terrible Qunari drink."
He shrugged. "Its complicated." Varania heard herself sigh irritably, more than she intended. A little line appeared between Solas's eyebrows and he looked away. She mimicked his stance with her elbows on the railing and leaned her head against him. The faint scent of wine seemed to actually come from his skin.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't want you to behave any differently for my benefit. I only like your company, maybe more than I should." She chuckled. "And for now, I'd certainly hate to ruin this moment of potentially lower inhibitions with a disagreement."
Solas made a little mirthful noise. "Yes, very true. We need must take advantage of these moments. Indeed all the little moments are to be savored." He pushed back from the rail and Varania turned to watch as he gave her an overly dramatic half bow and offered her his hand.
"Before the band stops playing, before...," A wistful expression fluttered across his face like a breeze. "Dance with me." Her heart did a little flip.
"Yes." Varania stepped into his arms. Only the faintest strains of music drifted out on to the balcony, but it enough. She wasn't even particularly interested in the music or even in the dancing. Just being close to him after this terrible night was enough. All those disgusted looks, all those awful choices. Right now, her hand clasped in his, his hand firm on the small of her back, none of it seemed so terrible.
She rested her head on his shoulder. "This was an awful night, until now."
Solas just hummed in response, his arm pulling her a little closer. Their feet moved, supposedly in time with the rhythm of the music, but Varania wasn't even sure she could actually hear it. She lifted her head to look up at him.
There was so much in that gaze, this very old soul she realized she hardly knew at all. She wanted to know his so desperately, yet all her questions went unanswered.
Do you have a family?
Yes, but I have not seen them in a very long time.
She didn't even know how old he was. He wouldn't tell her.
Old enough.
Cryptic and yet, did it even matter? He leaned down and kissed her, softly. It didn't matter, not any of it. They all had pasts. If her own sordid past, as a slave, someone who betrayed her own blood, full of mistakes and choices made with animal instincts, if this didn't chase him away from her? What did it matter who he was before they met on the battlefield, when he took her hand and showed her the power of the anchor?
She kissed him back, with more force. She backed him up until he was pressed against the wall next the door, pinned between her body and the stucco. Her breath came fast, her hands with minds of their own exploring along his shoulders and his back, carefully avoiding those spots that she'd discovered were ticklish.
Solas's head lolled back against the wall, pulling away enough to catch his breath. He looked down at her with a lazy smile.
"Let's find somewhere more private to dance," he whispered with a deep tone to his voice.
Varania bit her lip and nodded, pressing the length of herself against him as punctuation. Then, as if they were love addled adolescents and not supposedly wise agents of the Inquisition, they clasped hands and skirted into the ballroom again, along the wall towards the trophy room. She lead him and somewhere behind one of those big statues was going to be good enough. She couldn't wait any longer.
She pulled him through the only slightly ajar door and closed it behind them. She flung her arms around his neck and leaned in towards him.
And then someone giggled. A woman's voice, husky and deep and familiar.
"Cassandra?" Varania pulled away from Solas and peered around the side of one of the pillars.
"And...Commander Cullen," Solas supplied.
He laughed as the two already tucked in between the statues both realized they were not alone and attempted to rearrange themselves into a less inappropriate position. Cullen had Cassandra between him and the wall, and the rosy lip stain she'd been wearing was smeared all over Cullen's face. Cassandra couldn't even look at them, her hand over her face and her head turned away. Thankfully for all four of them, no one had lost any clothing as of yet, but they were both more than a little disheveled.
"Inquisitor, I, I mean we," Cullen stuttered as he yanked down the hem of his red tunic abruptly. The entire scene was beyond comical. He was blushing furiously.
Varania couldn't help but laugh. She held a hand up to stop him before he could continue. "No, you don't have to explain. I'm certain no one on this room..." She laughed again instead of continuing. "We're going to," she pointed back over her shoulder. "We're just going to go now."
Solas looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He was the absolute picture of amusement. Varania looked back at Cullen and wished she had a way to capture this moment. His face, unlike Solas's was the perfect epitome of distress.
"Enjoy yourselves," Solas added helpfully and Cullen's blush actually managed to increase. Varania hadn't thought it would be possible. Cassandra cleared her throat.
"Can we pretend this didn't happen?" she asked.
Varania shook her head. "No, because I think it's wonderful." She grinned. "But we won't tell anyone. That's your choice." Snickering, she added, "As you were."
She took Solas's hand again and they made as graceful an exit as they could, closing the door before both breaking into laughter. All those stuffy Orlesians were just looking at them, the elven Inquisitor with her savage tattoos and her bald elven manservant laughing with tears in the their eyes, drunk in the middle of a ball.
And all without masks; How scandalous.
She looked over at Solas and he looked so happy, happy in a way she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him before. She squeezed his hand. She didn't care who saw them or heard them.
She reached over kissed him, not caring when there were voices whispering when she did it. "I love you."
He smiled back. "As I do you, ma vhenan."
This wasn't at all the moment she expected, but after all this grimness, all the darkness of this day and of all these days, this moment of laughter stood out brilliantly. Varania clutched the feeling tightly inside herself.
Together, they got to be happy for one perfect moment and that was more than some people had in a lifetime. Whatever else she was, Varania was lucky. She was lucky and she was loved and she was alive.
Corypheus didn't stand a chance against her.
