It was such a relief to be alone together again, but the repeated applications of her healing, the last one in particular having been done with such desperate force, was pushing her exhaustion into almost unbearable levels. Cullen groaned contentedly in her ear while she held him, and after countless minutes of resting within the oasis of his arms she felt her alertness flag, drifting away into what could easily have become a deep sleep if she hadn't sat up suddenly in an attempt to jolt herself awake. Cullen only watched her with amusement as she shook her head, trying to wipe the bleary drowsiness from her eyes. Halfway through the motion she cringed, remembering the kohl. Cullen laughed at her, a warm and relaxed laugh that had her joining in reflexively.
"Shit," she laughed, "Did I smear it?"
"Yes, you certainly did." He reached up to gently wipe his thumb under the lashes of her lower lid, apparently attempting to smooth things back into place for her. Maker, she was definitely not used to wearing makeup.
"Hold still, love," he whispered, his lips curling affectionately into his little half smile. She couldn't help herself, and despite his attempts to correct whatever mess she'd made, she came in closer, drawn inexorably to the enticing curve of his lips, the rugged quirk of his scar.
"No… that's… this is the opposite of holding still-" he grumbled with audible affection, but she quieted him with her kiss. It was a gentle brush at first, lips bumping and breezing against the other, and then moving to a deeper suckle, first the bottom lip, and then pulling in the top, pressing and nibbling, wanting to experience the plumpness, the lush textures and beautiful lines that arched and swelled with pink, satiny skin. He laughed under his breath as he lowered his hand and gave over to it, taking a breath and diving in, merging fully with her. Her hands found his cheek and caressed gently, cradling his head while pouring all the love filling her body into her touch, into the joining of their lips and the slow delving of her tongue. She sighed, savoring the tender moment, the adorable grumbling of his deep voice about the interruption as it faded into submission to her exploring mouth.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensual experience of him, the coarseness of the stubble coating his jaw and neck, present again despite starting the evening clean-shaven. The softness of velvety flesh pulled over sharp cheekbones and angled brows, the smooth fibers of his hair, pulling like curled silk between her fingers. The distinctive natural fragrance of him, woodsy and musky and the most delicious thing she'd ever breathed. His heart thudded against hers, the chill of his hands on her waist like heavy blocks of ice resting on the off-side of her dress, but she didn't mind.
How many more ways could she tell him that she loved him? It seemed that all the things she thought up, all the ways she tried to express it were paltry, insufficient tokens that barely lessened the need to keep trying. There was still so much of it dammed up inside that felt like it needed to come out, an ocean's worth of adulation that only lost a drop or two with each attempt at expression. There was no option but to continue trying, no way she could hold it all in without continuing to seek some measure of relief. His head fell back, surrendered to the worship in her hands and lips. She breathed him in reverently, bringing the air he expelled deeply into her lungs, wanting to pull him inside her and hold him there until the overwhelming need to bathe him in love had been satisfied.
There was a vow in her heart, a soulful promise to be anything he needed, at any time, in any place, consequences and Inquisition be damned. To be his partner, his defender, his servant, his lover, to fight beside him in whatever battles life brought. She'd known it was there since the beginning, and had acted the part without trying, but faced with such a sickening prospect as forcing him unwillingly back into addiction, the vow became a mantra, cried loudly into her cells with every heartbeat. Whatever she could do would be done, and if she failed — Maker be damned — she would nurse him through the aftermath, until he was whole and well again. Cullen was life. He was love and strength and endurance and devotion, determination over hardship, evolution and growth, steadfastness through time and space, and every good thing that Avery cherished and needed to see preserved, so that one day he could pass what he was into their children.
The kiss came to a quiet end with a squeeze of the arms and a gentle sigh.
"How long have we been here now?" he asked in a whisper.
"I have no idea. Quite a while, I think."
He sighed again, a resigned, reluctant purging of breath, and he barely needed to say what it meant.
She pressed down the disappointment and climbed off of him, seeing the black sky out the towering windows behind them, a darkness that she hoped meant the night would be drawing to a close soon. If they'd hadn't already wasted so much time in an unexpectedly sleepy embrace, she would be trying to make love to him right then, trying to join with his body to release the pressure of the overbearing love she contained. But a stolen half hour of rest in his arms, or however long it had been, would have to do.
She relished the quiet understanding between them, words becoming superfluous and clunky compared to the appreciation shown in the sparkle of an eye, the soft caress of a hand or pair of lips, the renewal in his demeanor as he slipped out the door, ready to tackle another hour or two of activities he despised. He left her with a smile that was as warm as a kiss and a last attempt to fix her smudged eyeliner, before giving up with a laugh and an apologetic shrug, and rushing away to resume his post.
Leliana found her quickly.
"So Mahanon was trying to find Cullen, after a very enlightening encounter he had with the Grand Duchess, but Cullen was no where to be found. And then along came the duke's brother, wandering dangerously close to Mahanon, so I began looking for you, and you too were no where to be found. And then I see you both magically reappearing from the same general location within about five minutes of each other. Interesting coincidence."
"Yes. Very interesting," Avery agreed.
"And your eyeliner is smudged," she said.
"I'm tired and I accidentally rubbed my eyes."
"I actually believe that one. You do look tired," said Leliana.
Avery snorted, "Well, good, I think. And yes, Cullen and I did sneak away, but nobody saw us."
Leliana stopped short and turned to look at Avery with a barely hidden grimace. "Please don't do that again," she asked firmly. "You know how bad it will look if anyone even suspects. Rumors about you and Mahanon have already been dominating most of the conversation and it's becoming a bit of a nuisance. I can only imagine how much worse it would get."
"What are the rumors?"
"Nothing too unexpected… just that you made the Inquisition late because you two were too busy having sex in the bushes, that you've cast some dark love spell on him so you could secretly manipulate the Inquisition, that he's only with you because you're the Champion and he idolizes you, or that he's a mage sympathizer, or because you have a fetish for elves… take your pick on that one. There are several others as well, some far less flattering due to Mahanon being Dalish, and all a bunch of nonsense of course. But that doesn't stop anyone."
Avery laughed, feeling almost honored that anyone might give her credit for the Inquisition, even if due to spells and manipulation. She snagged a glass of champagne off a passing tray and downed it quickly, setting the empty flute back onto the next passing tray. Another set of familiar elf eyes landed on her, but they quickly looked away, seemingly afraid to acknowledge her familiarity. Kicked puppies indeed.
"Yes, it's all very hilarious," Leliana said in an unamused deadpan. They reached the ballroom and Leliana slowed as they approached, watching Mahanon and Cullen talk quietly between themselves. Cullen's groupies remained close, whispering to each other as they cast hidden glances toward the two men, and Avery distinctly heard the words "knife-ear" buried within the susurration of voices. She bristled on Mahanon's behalf and couldn't help but glower, searching for the shiny little doll eyes hidden beneath the masks. Were these people truly so shallow?
She almost laughed at her own absurd question. One need only to look at the efforts they put into their costumes for an answer.
"When Mahanon and the Commander are done speaking you need to get him out of here," Leliana warned. "Or at least distract him until William is gone. Please."
"Question. Does William know that the clan he helped slaughter was Anon's? There can only be so many Lavellan clans around, right?" Avery asked.
"My little birds say he doesn't know. I find that hard to believe, but his behavior here suggests that he truly doesn't, so as unlikely as it may be, it is possible they are correct."
"He's not very smart then, huh?"
"Apparently not," Leliana confirmed.
Avery nodded and grabbed another glass of champagne. It wasn't helping the tiredness, but it was making all the tedium a bit easier to bear. Leliana raised an eyebrow.
"What? I don't have to do anything or talk to anyone here, besides you and Mahanon. I'm just supposed to be here for fun." Leliana gave a little shrug and looked away, casting her eyes toward the dancers down on the ballroom floor.
Eventually, after what felt to her tired mind like an exceedingly long stretch of time, Anon joined them at the balustrade. She felt him before she heard or saw him, the first indication of his presence being his hand sliding into place at the small of Avery's back. She stiffened instinctively, and after a warning glance from Leliana, forced herself to loosen up again, trying to ignore the fact that Cullen was only several paces behind them. Leliana gave a nod and moved away, joining Cullen for a quick exchange of hushed whispers, before floating off into the crowd.
Anon pulled Avery by the waist and she glanced up at him to see a smear of blood behind his ear. Instinctively she reached up to wipe it away, rubbing hard at the stubborn dried streak, and then glanced over his face and throat for more splatter and seeing a few random spots, but nothing too noticeable. He raised an eyebrow and watched her quietly, seemingly amused.
"Got to go have a little fun, did you?" she asked.
He nodded, his lips curling in a pleased confirmation.
"I did. There are some very interesting things afoot…" he said. "I would tell you more, but we are running out of time, and I'm pretty sure this man over there is talking about something that I need to know."
He pulled her directly toward the man, keeping his gait leisurely and slow, and then settled them nonchalantly between two groups of people who were also watching the dancers over the balustrade. The man in question wore an Orlesian military uniform, and talked in a thick accent that Avery didn't have the energy to try to decipher, and she tuned him out almost immediately. Her interest in the political machinations of the court had long since dissolved anyway, and instead she glanced around the room to try to find the duke's brother. The familiar blue coat loitered in the far end of the room, with his back turned, apparently flirting with the frilly, doll-like Orlesian before him. Avery took a deep breath, and another sip of champagne. The warmth of Anon's body spread over her right side as he rested against her, a ticklish touch streaming up and down the bare skin of her back as his fingertips lightly caressed. She turned her head to look at him pointedly.
"We've got to make this look believable, right?" he asked with a smirk and a small shrug.
"Whatever happened to that whole 'make the other ladies jealous and throw themselves at you' business that I was supposed to be doing… after which I could go away and do whatever I want? You do remember that part of ordering me to be your date, don't you?"
Anon snorted. "I failed to consider the masks." She looked at him quietly and waited for him to continue. "How am I to know if I even want any of these women to throw themselves at me? You can't even tell their ages, unless you can see their hands. But many are wearing gloves. It's like a game of Antivan roulette, except you could end up accidentally bedding a golem."
She shook her head and snorted a laugh.
"Do you think the true reason for all the masks is because of how hideous they are?" he asked. "I bet some of the nobles just want to cover up the obvious signs of inbreeding." She laughed a little more loudly that time, and his smile widened while his fingertips slowed, running up and down the hem of her dress until shivers traveled up her spine. Her laugh was cut short, with the memory that Cullen was probably watching them and she squirmed a little under his touch. But he didn't stop, continuing to grow bolder and bolder with his attentions.
"Are you that anxious to be rid of me? I thought we were sort of… bonding," he asked. She sighed tiredly and looked down onto the dancefloor, watching a woman in a pink dress dance with the straightest, most rigid looking back she'd ever seen.
"Aren't you supposed to be paying attention to them?" she asked, nodding toward the man in the military suit. He stopped a moment and went still, not moving a muscle for several long seconds. Then he shook his head.
"Not yet," he whispered. "I'm sure they'll come back around to Gaspard though, if we just wait."
She felt the tip of his finger slip just under the hem of her dress and wriggled away from it, trying to make it look like she was just shifting her weight. She was about to ask exactly how 'believable' he intended for them to look, when a neatly manicured hand flitted around the military man and toward Anon, trying to get his attention.
"Champagne," the woman barked at Anon, beginning to snap her fingers. The military man took a half step out of the way to allow the woman to speak more directly, standing aside as though it was something he was used to doing. Avery glanced around Anon to see a gilded mask, encrusted with jewels and set above a ridiculously high collar that almost obscured painted, medicinally pink lips. Avery looked at her in disbelief, but Anon only raised an eyebrow, completely unsurprised. He was quiet, his jaw clenching noticeably while the woman continued. "No, nevermind, not champagne. The '38 Antivan white. I don't want any from an already open bottle, so go fetch a fresh one."
Avery leaned deeply over the balustrade to get a better look, her ears still trying to process the haughty entitlement that dripped from the words. Anon flashed her a glance that said "I told you."
She unfurled her fists and took a deep breath, inexplicably feeling as though the insulting condescension had been directed at her. Forcing a smile, Avery spoke through gritted teeth at the woman.
"The Inquisitor is not a dog. He does not fetch."
The woman's gaze snapped over to Avery, her lips parted in a retort that she was clearly reconsidering. Instead she stood up straight while the man came forward, returning to his place with a sharp glance over his shoulder.
Anon only shook his head and sneered a quiet, bitter laugh. "See? We're bonding. Varric said that you were protective of your friends."
He sighed and wrapped his arm around her waist again.
"I guess this means we're friends, then? Despite the whole lyrium business. Which, I have to ask, are you sure you're stuck on Cullen? Could you imagine how legendary it would be if the Inquisitor and the Champion really were to-"
Avery groaned, squirming quickly out of his grasp and walking away. Clearly he wasn't going to get anything out of military man anyway, not after he and his companion had learned who they were standing beside. Avery hesitated in the middle of the floor for a moment, not entirely sure where she should go from there. Anon came up from behind, taking her newly emptied champagne flute out of her hand and passing her a fresh one. She scowled as she took it.
"I'll fetch for you," he purred teasingly. Avery rolled her eyes, her gaze landing momentarily on an exceedingly displeased looking Cullen.
"Well thanks, but don't," she hissed.
"Oh lighten up, Hawke."
After another moment of waiting, he snatched the flute of fresh champagne, downing the sparkling liquid himself in a single gulp. He set both empty glasses down at a nearby table, grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the rear of the room. She winced inwardly as they made their way straight for the the corner that held the duke's brother. Another glance behind her revealed Cullen's lips pulled into a tight line and his amber eyes following them around the room. He shifted uncomfortably while snapping a curt response to one of his persistent admirers. She wanted to call out to him, to throw her hands up in exasperation, to yank away from Anon and go stand by herself somewhere for a while, but Cullen wasn't the only one watching. Like the glowing eyes of a forest full of predators, the holes of masks were turned toward her, shimmering and ravenous for more meat for the slaughter. As she glanced from porcelain face to porcelain face she saw gears turning behind the glassy eyes, lips murmuring almost imperceptibly as they commented to their companions. With a frustrated sigh Avery relented, turning to step into sync with Anon as they made their way deeper into the ballroom.
She bit her tongue against all the admonishments streaming through her mind. She wanted to tell him he shouldn't be drinking, even if it was just champagne. That all the extra touches and caresses were crossing the line, that there were plenty of other couples present who didn't need feel the need to fawn all over each other in that manner, that she was beginning to suspect he was just antagonizing Cullen again. Her annoyance only grew as she lingered on that last point. After the conversation they'd had so recently, she admittedly had softened a little bit toward him, unable to help herself from relating to his situation, simply because it was a fact that she definitely could. But a quiet little voice began to ask if Anon might have it in him to try entice Cullen into an incident via casually inflicted stress, in an attempt perhaps to end the stalemate on the issue of lyrium so that it could just be finished and no longer a distraction.
But she didn't have enough information yet to support that conclusion, and she certainly wasn't sure that's what he was trying to do here in full view of everyone. It seemed much more likely that he was simply behaving as any young adult does, rebelling against figures of authority and flaunting his freedom, led by a surplus of confidence and libido. Cullen might not have technically been in Command of Anon, but he had the authoritative bearing, the deference and respect of everyone else Anon worked with, earning him the automatic assumption of superiority from onlookers not directly in the know. There was no question that someone younger might view Cullen as an authority to be defied, even if his actual role was only to share his wisdom and direct a separate legion of men.
Anon pulled her back to the balustrade, tilting his head slightly as he listened to a small group of men behind him. Cullen was well out of earshot, but a glance in his direction revealed that he was still in full view of her and Anon. And even closer, on the other side of them, was William, the duke of Wycome's brother. He at least seemed to have been seeing some success with his female target, as she smiled brightly and fluttered nervous fingers over her dress while she giggled.
Avery collapsed against the rail, wishing for the millionth time that the night just bloody end already. Slipping once again over her bared back was Anon's hand as his body lingered close, leaning in now to whisper in her ear.
"Not much longer, and then you'll be free to go ravish our Commander for the rest of the night," he said as out of nowhere he presented another full champagne flute. She eyed it and then him, seeing the elven servant retreating from her peripheral vision.
"They're taking very good care of me," Anon remarked as his eye flitted to the disappearing elven girl. "I found them a little while ago and apologized, and you wouldn't believe the information they had to share. The servants always know way more than their masters expect," Anon motioned again for Avery to take the champagne.
"Well that's very nice," she answered honestly. "I am sure they appreciated the apology." He shook his head and thrust the glass into her hand, all but forcing her to take it.
She raised a disapproving eyebrow. "Are you trying to get me drunk, Inquisitor?"
He laughed lightly, "well it would make things a lot more pleasant if you weren't so tense. Besides it'd be nice not to be the only drunk one here." She frowned. It had been at least ninety minutes, if not a full two hours since she'd had to stick her fingers down his throat. A normal person would be close to sober by now.
"You're still drunk?"
"Well, I might have had a glass or two of these. Maybe a little more, when no one was looking."
"Well that explains a few things. But, honestly, why in the Void would you do that?" she asked, not trying to hide her frown. She had no choice but to whisper back in his ear with as crowded a section as they were in, and his cheek hovered mere inches from her mouth, tendrils of shiny dark blonde hair tickling against her shoulder and neck. She couldn't deny that the man smelled good, sort of summery and green, like a blossoming Dalish field, which she realized was how she imagined most Dalish probably smelled. And his touch, as much as she wished there was less of it, was sensuous and warm and continued to give her the shivers. She'd even had to stand with her arms strategically placed a few times in order to hide the straining points of her nipples, from him as much as anyone else. That all changed absolutely nothing of course, other than make her wish that he was a little less charismatic, so that it might be easier for her to keep her defensive wall high and strong. But she supposed it was better than constantly recoiling in horror.
"Because. I already told you earlier. Fuck these people. Celene will stay on the throne, with Briala's help… and I don't really give a shit what happens from there. And it's all practically done anyway. Once the would-be assassin is taken care of, then it's finished. "
"And you're so confident that you've got the approval of the court for that move? A Dalish who's already been insulted repeatedly and mistaken for a servant just has all the nobility sitting pretty under his thumb?" she asked. He gave a cocky shrug. "I don't need everyone's approval. Only a few of the most important people. And that I have. All those times you were sneaking away and disappearing, I was actually getting things done," he said. "Like I always do."
She tried to resist rolling her eyes again, more conscious than ever of how closely they were being watched. She only hoped that no one nearby was a lip reader.
"I think you do need everyone's approval. Isn't that the whole point of the Game?"
He shrugged again. "I'm never going to have anyone's no matter what I do, thanks to these," he said as he gestured up at his ears.
He turned to face her, his eyes shining warmly as he kept his lips curled into an ever-present smirk. She pulled away and looked down to the dancefloor, trying to keep her face a placid and serene. With a sigh, she sipped the last of the champagne, feeling her head grow all the more lighter, her body looser. Anon took the empty flute from her hands and almost immediately a servant materialized at his side.
"Ma serannas," he whispered, sending the petite girl away with a wink.
She cast a quick glance up at him and froze, seeing the duke's brother not only walking straight toward them, but slowing as he and his female friend aimed themselves directly toward the new gap of space immediately on the other side of Mahanon. So much for eavesdropping, she realized. He hadn't even noticed the men he was supposedly listening in on had left. An icy chill ran down her back as William boomed a loud laugh, and Anon began to turn toward him, wanting apparently to get a good look at his new neighbor. With a jolt Avery jumped into action, wrapping her arm around Anon's waist and pulling him this time, pasting a smile onto her face as she looked at him reassuringly. She glanced around. They could dance some more? They could just walk? But where to? Nearby were a set of towering blue doors, and she went straight for them.
"I… need some air… if that's okay?" she asked. He raised an eyebrow, stopping the same servant girl and acquiring yet more champagne. Avery kept her face perfectly still, trying not to frown, not to groan, not to give any sign of her abject disapproval at his continued pursuit for intoxication. Instead she took the new flute, vowing quietly that it would be her last even if she had to sip the same damn one for the rest of the night, and pulled him toward the balcony doors. His smile grew wider as they got closer, his hand around her waist pulling her tight against him and the bristle of anxiety morphed, becoming a worry that he was reading wrongly into her suggestion. And Cullen, from however short a distance, was seeing it all too. There could be no mistaking Anon's smoldering eyes as he pawed at her like a teenager, pressing his body into her side and retreating toward greater privacy with a lascivious smile. She glanced at Cullen, trying to plead for understanding with her eyes. His face in return was as cold as stone and he looked away before they even reached the door.
He understood, she told herself. They bloody well both needed to understand. Anon had to know, somewhere inside that hazy brain of his, that she wasn't actually having a split-second change of heart about his advances. And Cullen had to have been informed by Leliana of her task at directing Anon away from William, and the woman damned well better have included her explanation of insisting upon whatever means necessary. And the fact was that Avery hadn't actually truly done anything, other than pull him away and suggest some air. Still the guilt weighed heavily, and she was sure it wouldn't look nearly as questionable had Anon not been attached to her physically at every opportunity. She groaned under her breath as she slipped through the door, her mind reeling as her chest fluttered with the frantic thumping of her heart. She immediately released Anon and pulled away, walking over to the farthest railing and taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Anon joined her, his hands on her again, on her waist, her back, her elbow, her upper arm, all places that should have been reserved for Cullen, but she blocked it out. As long as his hands didn't wander too far, as long as he wasn't kissing her or trying to burrow under her clothing, she wasn't sure there was much she could do other than occasionally pull away.
"Anon," she began and he was immediately looking into her face, hovering close despite the lack of observers on the balcony. "Can you just… ease up a little please? And control those roving fucking fingers, would you?" Without moving his smirk, he took a step away, acquiescing with a slight bow. She breathed a thank you and tried to roll some of the tension out of her neck. He was right that she was tense. Of course she was fucking tense.
"You love him very much," he commented. She looked at him with barely concealed confusion and nodded.
"You both definitely seem happy," he said.
"We are," she sighed.
He nodded as he watched her, and Avery wanted to relax, but she didn't trust this new line of commentary. It was such a quick turn from the pawing hands even moments earlier. Maker, the kid had a talent for keeping her completely off balance.
"I'm sorry I'm coming on too strong. The fact is, you're a beautiful woman and you look breathtaking tonight. Plus, you may have heard from Varric that I have been an admirer of yours for a long time."
Avery let herself relax a little then, watching him warily. "To be honest, I'm still finding it a little surreal that I got to have the Champion of Kirkwall as my date at all. I should probably be thanking Cullen, huh?"
"Or you could thank, you know… me," she said with a shake of her head.
"Yeah, but if Cullen had actually wanted to come with you, then you'd be here with him."
"It's not that Cullen didn't want….." She sighed. She was too tired to rehash that argument. "Fuck it. Look, you're welcome."
Anon laughed quietly at her, his dark eyes glinting. A soft breeze rustled through the trees around them and she heard the latch on the blue door turn. The music of the ballroom trickled out onto the balcony, and peeking between the growing gap in the doors came a smiling, mustached face over a blue coat. Avery groaned as a shot of anxiety sparked through her stomach. Exactly the man they had been trying to avoid. Anon cast an uninterested glimpse at the man, and then turned away again, and Avery straightened up, searching her mind for a reason to pull him right back out of there again. Already got enough air. Sorry I need to use the washroom. Lets go get some more champagne (despite the full glass in her hand). She sighed. She supposed any of those would work. Maker this only continued to get more tedious.
"Pardon me," came a familiar voice. "My apologies, but I need to have a private conversation with these two out here if you wouldn't mind coming back in a little while?"
The mustache man looked confused for a moment, and turned to glance at his companion.
"I believe the balcony on that side of the room is free."
The blue coat turned away, and with a grateful nod, Cullen emerged, closing the large doors behind him. Avery couldn't help the smile that crept over her face as she watched him approach. His eyes met hers with golden smolder as he walked calmly across the balcony, and for a moment Avery forgot that Anon was even present. At least until the slender man slid in beside her, grasping her once again by the waist. She turned to look pointedly at him.
"What? There are windows… people can still see us. And the way you look at Cullen, people will wonder…" Anon explained with a shrug.
Cullen stopped before them, not taking his burning eyes off Avery, and she tried to suppress her grin. There was truth in Anon's words, that she knew. She looked away, down to her feet, over to the trees, up into the stars, but her eyes found their way right back to Cullen as though they had a mind of their own. He'd yet to even acknowledge Anon. She was glad he seemed not to have any worries about them after all.
"Unless you're worried I'm really trying to steal you from him," Anon added.
Cullen snorted a laugh as his eyes caressed their way down her neck, to the tops of her shoulders, along the neckline of her dress. She almost shivered at the hunger she saw there, the way he was eating her up. Maker bless this dress.
"Do your worst, Inquisitor," Cullen said with a sultry confidence, still not even glancing at Anon. "I'm not worried."
His scarred lip curled just enough to make Avery's cheeks flush hot and her legs go numb. In almost an instant a roaring fire was raging deep in her belly, radiating out from between her legs. There was, of course, nothing for him to worry about. She was utterly and completely his.
"So, then," began Anon, readjusting his hand and squeezing her waist. "What did you need to discuss, Commander?"
The was a heartbeat's silence as Cullen seemed to come up with a reason for his rerouting of the duke's brother, and Avery wondered if he'd already had anything in mind. The last thing they needed was for Anon to begin to question their efforts.
"That elf servant you sent to me for protection had some disturbing things to say about Briala," Cullen stated without missing a beat. "And yet Bull says you intend to let her stay with Celene regardless? Are you sure that's wise?"
Avery felt her eyes glaze over as she realized she had no idea what they were talking about. She stood quietly and listened.
"Briala's crimes are the least of my worries," Anon said.
"Even despite that correspondence you found mentioning some mysterious weapon she has in her possession?" Cullen continued with a subtle scowl.
Anon laughed derisively, "yeah, correspondence from Gaspard. And who knows if that's true. People can say whatever they want in letters. Besides, none these fools have clean hands. At this point it's just choosing the lesser of three evils."
Cullen's scowl eased away and he gave an accepting nod, clearly seeing he wasn't going to succeed at convincing Anon differently. His eyes flicked back to Avery.
"Is he treating you well, my dear?"
Avery looked over to Anon, who was watching her with great interest, his face and body still hovering entirely too close.
"Aside from being a bit handsy," she commented, nudging a sharp elbow into Anon's ribs..
Anon laughed and gave her another dramatic squeeze. "Aren't you even going to tell him about the kiss?"
Cullen raised an eyebrow, but continued to look unconcerned.
"You thought that was a kiss?" Avery laughed. She looked back to Cullen with a shrug. "It was only to throw off any nosy guards. And he has been informed that with every attempted kiss, I get to hit him. Hard. In the face. While you watch."
With another snort, Cullen's eyes turned warm, holding hers for a long, breathless moment before traveling down her body again.
"Well then. By all means," he smirked approvingly, giving a little bow, before turning to walk out the blue doors.
Anon released her and took a deep breath. Taking several steps away and then spinning around to face her, his face giddy and astonished. He looked her up and down for a moment.
"Gods, even I'm turned on by how he hard he was just eye-fucking you," he gasped. Avery laughed some more and finished the glass of champagne, setting down the empty flute on a small table nearby.
"Has he ever been with a man?" Anon asked. She laughed again and shook her head.
"Fuck, I'll bet the sex you two have is…" he let his words trail off and Avery watched with amusement as he turned away from the windows and adjusted the new bulge at his crotch. He finished and turned again, looking at her with a dark glint in his eye. "What if… I wanted to watch? He wouldn't have to do anything he doesn't normally-"
Avery laughed even louder now, the glass of champagne making her feel light, Cullen's confidence reducing her to a mass of over-stimulated nerves, driven unexpectedly shaky with lust. It suddenly occurred to her that though she'd taken Cullen in her mouth, she'd yet to receive any plundering herself. And now it seemed that was exactly what she desperately needed.
A quick flash of movement in the yard below them caught both of their eye, and they were still for a long moment while they waited, looking deeply into the shadows for the movement to come again. Avery saw nothing, but Anon eventually must have.
"Huh," he said, and then sighed nonchalantly. "More ventatori maybe?" His back straightened, and that look of focus washed over his face. "I suppose it's probably time to end this. Thank you for the pleasure of your company tonight, Hawke, and for putting up with this Dalish pain in the ass. If you and Cullen ever think you want-"
"Not gonna happen, Inquisitor," she cut him off with an apologetic shrug.
He laughed, gave a bow, and was gone.
Avery stood alone, looking dumbly at the blue doors after they'd swung closed. Was it possible that the end really was imminent? And without any further disasters? It almost felt too good to be true.