Thanks for reading, and Happy New Year!

I'm so sorry for the huge lapse of time! My free time is pretty much fully dedicated to another writing project. I've been working as scriptwriter for a visual novel, which I'm quite excited about, but it has been time-consuming like hell. Between that and school, I can't find the time to come back to this story, even though I do plan on finishing it eventually. So, let's wrap the winter palace up, and beware, some lemons coming at the end!

Aelia considered the current situation. Well, all troubles seemed to have been avoided for tonight, the Commander deserved another break from the nobles…Damn, these guys were gnats. Omnipresent, crawling gnats. Once more she stepped out of the shadows and walked towards the Commander. She cleared her throat, happy to have a better excuse this time.

"Commander, Ser, the Inquisitor required your presence outside to help the guards dealing with the prisoners." An adamant look took his eyes and he didn't bother to spare some excuses to the nobles. She pointed a door on their right, the one Mahariel came back from after her confrontation with Florianne in the Royal Wing. He nodded and took a quick soldier-style pace. She stayed surprised few seconds before catching up. Damn, either he had better drama skills than she thought or – He asked skeptical as he stepped outside.

"Where are they?" She babbled the answer, feeling suddenly that it was not such a great idea.

"Er, I really didn't think you would buy it. I just made up the excuse to get them off your back…" He looked at her few seconds with surprise before feeling particularly stupid. He looked elsewhere, rubbing his neck.

"Oh, er, yes it actually makes sense they, er, didn't go this way. I …Thank you, Warden-Commander, I appreciate the thought." He was seriously going to keep up with the title.

"You are welcome, Commander." They remained silent a bit before he looked down at her hands. She had two glasses in it. "Oh, eh, yes, I took them discreetly on our way out. I figured you could use a drink." He laughed slightly as she handed him the glass.

"Once more, I appreciate the thought."

"That was a long night. I'd rather face a dragon than doing it again. And, we actually did not do much."

"Indeed, the Inquisitor was the one to handle things tonight."

"I envy her somehow. Her night must have been harassing but she had chances to escape the ballroom. Fenedhis, I still don't know why I was here." He rubbed his neck nervously again.

"That…er, was actually my fault." She raised an eyebrow. "I…er, I pointed out that having one of the remaining sane ranked Warden with us was a powerful image for the Inquisition, I did not realize you were not supposed to attend the Ball and… I'm sorry for that, Aelia." She considered his words and shrugged, hiding her satisfaction to the use of her name.

"At least, it makes sense." She laughed with a fake chastising tone. "Just be nice, do not volunteer me for any Orlesian Grand Ball without warning in the future."

"Maker, I hope there will not be another one…" More comfortable, she teased a bit.

"So, I'm here because of you and I saved you twice from the nobles and got you a drink. You'd better have save me a dance." He answered without thinking.

"No thank you." Her face dropped a bit. Oh. Okay that's said, stop speaking before you make a fool of yourself again…He realized his words and resumed in a rush. "No! I didn't mean to – Maker's breath! I've answered this question so many time I'm rejecting it automatically. I'm not one for dancing. Templars never attended Balls." She waved his concerns but a bit of hurt remained in her eyes.

"It's fine Cullen, I was joking."

He opened his mouth and closed it, afraid of saying even worst. Of course, she is offended you idiot! Find something intelligent to say, now! He noticed the music which was reaching the balcony. He suddenly smirked. He took her glass from her hand and put both of the guardrail. Then he bowed a little, handing her his hand under two surprised sunrise eyes.

"May I have this dance, my Lady?" She smiled genuinely at the gesture but pointed out.

"You just said you didn't dance." Still smirking, he reached her hand and dragged her closer.

"For you, I'll try."

Mahariel had not put her mask – literal one – back after the events of the Royal wing, deciding that enough was enough with the damn thing.

"Do you tire so quickly of their congratulations, Inquisitor? 'Tis most fickle, after all your efforts on their behalf."

"I would have stayed, but the punch ran dry."

Morrigan explained her Celene has commanded her to join Skyhold as Liaison to the Inquisition. She soon left her alone, the fact she had sneaked out here being enough of a hint.

Solas had his mind clearer – Hawke had managed to pour a little extra in his last glass in order to get that effect. He walked on the balcony once the witch was away. As Mahariel, he rested his elbows on the guardrail, close to her.

"I'm not surprised to find you out here." He tried to look at her face but she seemed lost in her thoughts. And unnerved. "Thoughts?" He put a comforting hand on her back. She shook her head.

"Long night. Nothing more." She paused and finally looked at him with mischievous eyes and smile. "More interestingly, I crossed path with Varric. You crashed a glass. In your fist. Do I want to know?" He laughed slightly bitterly.

"It was either my fist or the head of a noble. I figured you would be more pleased with the first option."

"Well, me, I'm not sure. Josephine, clearly." He was not saying why but Varric had already told her what happened, the hungry eyes of the nobles on her. She smiled and leaned closer to press her lips against his before whispering. "Still, I appreciate the thought." She slid into his arms.

After the night he had, it put his heart at ease to see how naturally she found her place in his embrace. His hand around her shoulder stroked her gently, pulling her discreetly closer in doing so. He smiled and kissed the top of her head. They remained quiet for a moment before he stepped back with a grin.

"Come, before the band stops playing, dance with me." He presented her his hand with an elegant bow. She returned a bright smile and put her hand gracefully in his.

"I'd love to." He pulled her closer, his other hand reaching her waist as hers came on his shoulder. Their gazes were deep in each other while they moved with the tune. "So, jealous hum?" He replied in a low voice.

"I am not jealous. But it is true I cannot stand people looking at a wonderful and unique soul and seeing no more than flesh to bed." She blushed a bit, always amazed but the way his compliments sounded, as an undeniable statement. He resumed, slightly bitter. "I, however, admit myself impressed by your mastery of the Game. You did display attentions with talent." She raised an amused eyebrow.

"Second thought about not being jealous?" His nose wrinkled a bit as he declared reluctantly.

"Perhaps." Her hand moved to skim his jawline.

"Tel'isala, vhenan'ara." Her eyes lowered shyly as she added. "Sa'ma emma mir elghar."

He considered few seconds her sentence. The warmth it brought in his chest and the smile that reached his lips were a thing but, beside…He began seriously to reconsider his position about the knowledge of their long-lost language the Dalishs had. Their elven was broken – Fenedhis was he craving to teach it to her properly! – but maybe not as much as he thought. He cupped her chin to draw her eyes back to his.

"Ar lath ma, vhenan." He did not wait for any answer and kissed her, but stayed aware of the intention she put in the kiss, wanting to discover if she actually understood. He wanted her to understand these words. He probably didn't the first time he said it but now…

This time at least, she wasn't as flustered as the first time. She kissed him back tenderly, trying as much as she could to make him feel what she was unable to put in words. She knew. She knew she loved him but – The best she could manage now was this languish soft gentle kiss. Apparently, he understood her well enough as she felt his earnest smile against her lips. They resumed skillfully the dance. He made her spin several times with surprising ease. When the waltz came to an end, he tilted her backward as a finale and smirked.

He suddenly straightened her up vigorously and sent her in a last spin. He pulled her back in his arms and she landed, hands on his chest, with a gasp. He pressed her slightly against the guardrail, his lips finding hers fiercely. She was about to open her mouth to him when whistles interrupted them. He stepped back, hiding poorly the disappointment and irritation on his face. She composed herself before tilting on her side to see the trespassers – not that she really needed to do so to know exactly who was standing near to the door, cackling. A triumphant Hawke commented.

"I just knew we would catch you at some point!" Varric took over from her.

"And I just knew you didn't notice us." Mahariel sighed and tried to figure the extent of the damage.

"How long exactly have you been here?" Hawke winked.

"Here, here only few secs, we didn't want to ruin the moment." Solas growled louder than he wanted.

"Does not look to bother you that much." His intent was not to be heard by anyone except Mahariel but, considering the resurgence of laughter, it obviously didn't go that well. Hawke resumed with waggling eyebrows.

"But if you really want to know, long enough to witness both cute and harsh part. I should have known you were of the rough kind…" She looked with delight at the red color drowning Mahariel's face. Varric decided to play nice with the elves.

"C'mon Hawke, we have to go back to watch Broody before someone calls him a servant."

"Right, imagine the disaster of blood on the carpet! Oh, Maker I cannot even think of such catastrophe!"

Mahariel looked at them turning away as she was trying once more to figure out how to stop the blush which had spread on her face. Once they were gone, she sighed and rubbed her temples.

"Sorry about – "She gasped as his tongue interrupted her, eager to resume their latest activity. He tilted her body, wanting to be her only support as he deepened the kiss, tasting her. A soft moan of delight escaped her as he held her tight. Her hand came on the back of his neck, keeping him as close as she could. When he broke the kiss for breath, he rested his forehead against her, his voice a whisper.

"Come with me." She gave a soft smile.

"Where?"

"Somewhere without an audience." Her lips parted slightly as she could not help but try to figure where he was going with that. She blushed slightly and felt ridiculous to do so. Yet, her teeth worried over her bottom lip.

"I can't. The Empress, Briala, the nobles…I am not supposed to sneak out…"

"The Inquisition cannot hope to retire before an hour at least." He pleaded, his hand skimming her jaw. "You will be there for a proper exit." She glanced from him to the door of the ballroom. He had a point.

"Ma nuvenin." She finally declared. He grinned and took her thin hand back in his own. He led her discreetly through the ballroom, staying near the walls, afraid to have someone trying to take her attention again. They slipped through the door and toward the guest wing. With all the fuss that happened with the Duchess custody, the place had been deserted. Yet, he did not stop, going through stairs leading down. She chuckled as they went through the corridors.

"You did investigate the place, did you not?" He echoed her small laugh.

"I had to stay busy while you ran through the entire castle."

The lower gardens were a peaceful area, absolutely empty of any guests now. The smoke had left the fumoir as the smokers were gone. He spotted a small bench in front of the fountain and invited her to sit. She smiled and proceeded. His smile was utterly tender as he sat face to her. He did not say a word and cleaned her forehead from a strand, contemplating her. She blushed under his gaze.

"You were ravishing tonight." Commented he. Her features softened as a most genuine smile reclaimed her lips. He scanned her reaction, intrigued. "I'm fairly certain you heard that a thousand times tonight. One has to be blind not to notice."

"I did not care for their opinions." She muttered, sheepishly. He smiled in earnest.

"How unlucky they are."

He was amazed to see her almost shy there. She was such master of the Game, one would not guess how the woman behind the mask could be discreet and hesitant. His hand came back in her hair, carefully taking away the pins holding it up. She appeared about to protest but finally decided it did not matter. And truth be told, the complicated hairstyle was aching, tugging her scalp. A flow of long waving white hair fell graciously around her face, not without a sigh of relief from her. He untangled carefully the small braids, freeing fully her snowy mane. Seeing she was peacefully letting him do as he pleased, he put gently his hands on her waist. He made her slid closer to him. She giggled faintly.

"What are you doing?"

"I said you were ravishing tonight. But I've seen you more beautiful."

She raised a brow as he reached for a piece of fabric in the pocket of his formal attire. He put his gloves away and soaked it in the fountain. His hand emanated with warmth for it to be at a pleasant temperature when he brought it to her face. She had but the time to close her eyes as he gently took the layer of make-up away from her features.

"I'm starting to doubt the part where you promised me I will be able to perform a proper exit." She pointed out, fakely chastising. Truth is, amusement was palpable in her voice.

A shudder went through her spine as his hands gently lowered the fabric of the dress down her shoulders. Lagoon eyes peered at him with an indescribable mix of emotions. Though, he did not bring it lower than the shoulders themselves. He did not look at her eyes, unable to face the gleam of lust and hope in them. He gathered her hair in his hand to wipe the impressive amount of foundation which had been used on top of her tattoos. He had to clean the handkerchief and add more water twice before overcoming it. He put the piece of fabric besides them and contemplated her once more. He placed light kisses where laid the inks, mouth loitering over the lines in her neck. She closed her eyes at the feeling, his warm mouth against the soft skin, accepting what this tattoo once meant, what she had done. He came back at eyes level. His voice was soft velvet.

"Ina'lan'ehn." He breathed, eyes deep in hers. "One should not cover such perfection." She blushed and smiled in earnest but she could not help bu jest.

"Admit it, 'tis just that the make up had a foul taste." He chuckled.

"There is more than one benefit at having you in all your beauty."

His mouth crashed back against hers with urgency, fingers entangling in her free hair. His second hand came in the small of her back pressing her closer to him. She smiled against his lips and her face step back.

"Wait."

She stood and made to slip out of the heavy skirt of the dress. She did spot the blush on the tip of his ears as his mouth opened to say something. He closed it back at the sight of the trousers under it. Right, she had trousers under it for the fights. He swallowed imperceptibly. Not having his determination fluster was hard enough as it was. She appeared quite glad to slip away from the heavy fabric. He looked at her, her top low on her shoulder, the tigh leggings and leather boots. Her hair wild. She was so beautiful, so much more than with these artifices they made her wear. She came back to him and straddled his laps.

"Was hard to perform with that." She offered as an explanation, voice full of mischief.

Her hands cupped the sides of his face. Her lips captured his again. Her back arched, pressing her chest against his when his hand took back its spot. His fingers gently played at the hem of her tunic, seeking flesh. His knuttles brushed her lower back when they found it. His hand tingled with magic, caressing over her. He titillated her skin, storm magic oh so faintly sent through her body. She gasped as she felt the small charge, warmth in her belly moving dangerously lower. Her knees come further on his side, interlocking their position even more. He groaned inside her mouth when her hips rocked against his. He straightened their position. Her discreet back and forth was intensified by it. Feeling encouraged in the growing heat, she rubbed more boldly, hips rolling against his. His mouth muttered her moan as she felt his arousal rising under her, pushing against the fabric.

She articulated his name between two heavy breathes, sending his mind elsewhere. His eyes were darkened by lust, the sound of her voice while her pleasure was merely building. He was craving for her. His mouth left hers to come down her throat. He tasted the skin, lips meeting roughly the tender flesh. A part of his mind was still clear enough to shout him he had to untrigger the situation. But he had no idea how to do so. He had no strength to do so. Yet he knew he had to. Somehow. He shifted their position to have her back line up with the bench. Carefully, slowly, he settled her supine there. Her hips unwillingly ducked up, yearning for feeling him against her again.

No matter how much he wanted to grant her anything, he could not. He was that close to lose control, and he simply could not do that to her. She could not help the whine that crossed her lips as he broke contact there. He remained above her and kissed her with heat, but would not risk any other part of his body but his chest and face to come too close. Reluctantly and not without lack of understanding, she took what he let her have, drowning into the kiss as he brought them back in a quieter place. He cupped her cheek and felt the skin under his thumb burning. Her lips stepped away from his, but she did not dare open her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, barely audible. His eyes flicked open as he understood she was blushing and feeling ashamed of her behavior. He pressed his forehead against hers and shook his head so she could sense the movement.

"There is no reason to be, vhenan." She opened tentatively her eyes, lagoon pupils scanning his.

"I did not mean to force something upon you…I thought…I'm sorry."

"Mahariel, sathan. There is no reason to be sorry. I simply think…We both indulged in more glasses than good sense recommends. I do not want this to happen this way." He offered, more or less confident in the strength of the argument. But he shall not let her feel ashamed, or worst, think he did not want her.

"Neither do I." She pointed out with urgence. "I got…Carried away, my apologies." He narrowed his eyes and put a playful quick kiss on her lips.

"Stop apologizing. Especially for something like this." He added, mischief and hunger flashing in his eyes. Pink colored once more her cheeks and ears. She gave a warm smile.

"Ma nuvenin."

Tel'isala, vhenan'ara. Sa'ma emma mir elghar. - no need for it, my love. You're the only one on my mind.
Sathan - please