Vivienne and I leave for Orlais in the morning; the rest of our party departs in three days.
But rather than prepare, check, double-check, and triple check that everything is in place, as it should be, and - for once - right in the world, Josephine and Vivienne have Cassandra, Cullen, Varric, Dorian, Blackwall, Scout Harding, and myself all occupied.
Next to me, Cassandra growls, "This is ridiculous."
"Shut-up." I elbow her. "At least you're wearing pants."
It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that dancing is a definite part of Orlesian society, and one that cannot be forsaken simply because an Empress's life is in danger. Josephine made it clear that we were all expected to take part in at least one dance while at Halamshiral, unless we felt like slighting the entire Orlesian court.
So in the interest of avoiding war - "Blood feuds have started over less at the Winter Palace" - I donned the blue dress I hadn't worn since my graceful tumble off the courtyard wall, the grand hall was cleared, my companions were corralled, and Harding was conscripted as a partner for Varric.
The small orchestra Josephine had cobbled together for this impromptu lesson starts playing a tune that is so familiar by now, I can predict each crescendo, decrescendo, and rest.
My skirt rustles against the floor, weighed down by a petticoat beneath as I stride to meet Cullen in the center. In total, we make four couples - Cassandra with Dorian, Harding with Varric, Josephine with Blackwall, and Cullen and myself - moving in perfect synchronization as we meet in the middle of the hall. Cullen looks uncomfortable, like he has all night, and the blush he hides on his cheeks expands when our hands touch and we circle one another for six counts.
"Cullen." I frown, whispering to him softly. Dancing is obviously not his strong suit - he isn't horrible by any means, he merely needs to loosen his carriage a bit - and I resolve to at least make him look me in the eye. "Cullen, we've been at this for nearly an hour now. Won't you relax?"
"I doubt it." He mutters, more to himself than me. "I don't know how you manage to appear so comfortable."
"To tell you the truth, I'm not." I confess, finally catching his golden gaze. "Graceful does not always constitute comfort. But perhaps we should try and have some fun while we can?"
Finally, with a sigh of relief, Cullen's posture becomes less rigid. "We can certainly try." He smirks. "Come here."
That is, in fact, the next phase of our dance - a freeform waltz that requires us to close the distance between our bodies. So I do have to - and willingly - go to him.
But the cause for my sudden lack of air is found more in the way he says 'Come here.'. The timbre is lovely, deep, private and warm; if I was delusional, I would think it manifested from his lips solely for my benefit. Hands hesitate to draw me in, as if unsure he is really allowed to touch, regardless of if contact is required or not. The slight weight on my hip, and the gentle grip of my hand lies in such stark contrast, I wonder if he even noticed his tone. The way Cullen smiles at me says he didn't as we begin to waltz, carefully, guiding one another through the steps.
I laugh, breathless. "You're doing much better this time."
"Thanks to the unfathomable patience of my partner...perhaps." He acquiesces, allowing himself this praise.
"Focus-ow!" I hiss, biting my lip as a slight misstep causes our toes to collide. Blackwall chuckles as he and Josephine pass us, throwing me a wink.
Cullen blushes, apparently having missed the Warden's tease. "Sorry, sorry! Um...sorry."
There isn't a way in the world I could be mad at how his cheeks mottle, or his brow creases, so concerned is he for the well being of my toes. Biting my lower lip, I lean my head on his shoulder, quietly laughing. "Maker, we're a mess, aren't we?"
"You'd be much more graceful without me." Cullen whispers close to my ear, sounding serious, but I can feel a grin spread through his inflection. I 'shush' him - we both know it's true - and curl inward, searching for the sound of his heartbeat and more of that soothing warmth. He tenses, but continues carrying our feet through the dance.
Everything outside of Cullen's arms seems distant, unimportant. The dance moves in a 1-2-3 rhythm, but I follow the beat of Cullen's heart more closely, wondering if maybe it isn't what the music was set to long ago. Preposterous, but an endearing thought all the same considering that a few days ago I wouldn't have allowed myself to think it, much less be here, doing this.
I don't notice the music has stopped until Cullen loosens his grip on my waist. Sighing contentedly, I look up at him. "You're a very good dancer, Commander."
"Thank-you, Inquisitor." Cullen murmurs, taking a step back and bowing low. "You were magnificent."
My curtsy stutters, because there is that tone again, and I'll be damned if he's ignorant of the effect this time; his knowing smirk tells me all I need to know.
We all rise, and I set my hands on my hips, stepping up to Cullen to look him in the eye. "You little-"
The front door to the grand hall flies open with a bang, stalling whatever I was about to say.
"Where is she?!"
"Oh, shit!" I hiss, ducking behind Cullen, hoping to hide before Sera sees me.
As it is, I have no such luck. "You!" The infuriated elf shouts, holding up in either hand what used to be 'her bow'. The real one - a beautiful arch of ironwood and everite - is tucked away, safe in my quarters, but this replica - now in two pieces, as if it had been broken over someone's knee - has apparently done its job as intended.
"Would you do me a favor?" I whisper to Cullen, slowly slinking away despite the fact that everyone has now turned to me in confusion. Vivienne seems annoyed, while Blackwall and Varric take a subtle step towards Sera, prepared to intercept if need be.
Cullen drags his gaze from the far end of the hall, over to my retreating form. "What's that?"
"Meet me back here in five minutes with her bow. It's in my quarters."
"Hollyn!" Sera bolts forward.
I scream, gather my skirts, then sprint for the nearest door, which happens to lead into Josephine's office. The door hits the wall as I barge through, swinging around the threshold and down the steps to the gallery. Fast, angry footfalls follow shortly behind, Sera slinging every known expletive my way as she gives chase.
The gallery is empty, the door to the kitchens thrown open. That becomes my goal.
"Hollyn?" Lily cocks her head to the side, along with Cook and four other servants as I sprint past, towards the exit.
I pause at the door to bow, grinning at them. "Evening, all. Carry on."
A shout from the gallery makes us all jump. I barrel through the door without a backwards glance, flying down the steps to the stables. Dennet barely stumbles as I lead Sera through the building, out the other side, then past the merchant stalls. Horses and Fen'Harel all whinny in our wake, unappreciative of their quiet evening being disturbed.
"You broke my fuckin' bow!" She shouts when I reach the steps to the training courtyard. At a glance back, she's gained a few feet. I take the stairs two at a time, swinging around the wall to the main stairway, back to the grand hall. Now, I can only hope and pray that Cullen had enough time to perform my favor.
Inside, I thank Andraste that he has. Cullen stands there, Sera's bow unharmed in his hands, Varric and Blackwall standing ready assist in whatever may occur. Just as Sera leaps to bring me down, I push forward and swing behind Cullen, cowering behind his tall frame, hands over my head, chest heaving from both laughter and exhaustion.
When silence if the only thing that follows my escape, I slowly open my eyes and peek around Cullen's arm. Sera stands, the broken bow at her feet, regarding the real bow in Cullen's hands as if unsure whether or not this is a joke.
Her calculating gaze shifts to me. "Good one."
She then snatches the bow from Cullen and in one smooth motion, shoves him back. Not expecting this retaliation, he stumbles, tripping over none other than me. We fall, with barely enough time for Cullen to twist us so I land on top of him, the stone of the floor digging into my hands as they brace for impact on either side of Cullen's head.
For a long moment, I keep my eyes closed, merely listening to Sera's laughter as it recedes down the hall. I find that snickering along with her is unavoidable. Quite quickly, though, I become aware of something else: breathing, close to my face and fanning out in gentle, quick breaths like low chuckles.
Gold eyes try to laugh the situation off beneath me. Cullen's hands hover awkwardly in the air, as if unsure where to fall, asking if I need help up, or if he should just wait for me to roll off. Neither of us can quite regain our wits quick enough - we're laughing too hard. But damn his sweet face is so close, what would the harm be in leaning down and-
"Are you alright?" A hand tangles in the back of my dress, lifting me from Cullen and setting me on my feet in one smooth motion. Cassandra releases her grip, then offers Cullen assistance.
"The Commander broke my fall." I explain, running a hand through my hair once I realize what happened. "Commander?"
"I'm fine." He assures us, dusting off his shirt.
"You know," Josephine pipes up, and we all turn to look at her. She sounds amused as Vivienne rolls her eyes and stalks off. "Dancing is this refined, graceful, dignified, serious thing amongst the Orlesian nobility. But that?"
I brace for the scolding.
"That was hilarious."