CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

The journey to Halamshiral was an easy trip for Myra's party and Leliana's agents. It only took 3 days to reach Lydes, where they would wait for Cullen's armies and Josephine's carriage to arrive. There, they would regroup and travel with Duchess Caralina and her husband to the Winter Palace. They would arrive as Duke Gaspard's guests. Surely the Duke saw the value of the Inquisition's influence.

Myra had heard much of the Game from Josephine and Leliana, but to actually become immersed in it…

She began practicing for the ball early on. Josephine called in a dance instructor from Val Royeaux to help familiarize her with the movements and rhythms of the ball room. With the instructor returning to home, Myra worried she might lose what knowledge she had acquired.

So, it was on the first night in Duchess Caralina's estate that Myra knocked on the door to Solas's quarters to request a favor.

Solas opened the door and gave a small smile. "My Lady Inquisitor," he teased.

Myra rolled her eyes. "You're not my 'servant' yet, Solas."

"I am always a servant to your desire."

"Really?" Myra smirked. "I figured I was a servant to yours."

"It appears we serve each other well them." He drew her into his room and closed the door. Myra looked around the room with its silk bed sheets and lavish furnishings and was grateful she'd asked to keep her "servant" close to her rather than stay with the other servants.

"Your room seems as comfortable as mine," Myra said.

"It is surely not meant for 'servants'," Solas teased and kissed her neck.

"That is surley not meant for servants either."

Solas chuckled against her skin. "I suppose not."

"I have a request for my 'servant'," Myra caressed his face.

"Then it is my responsibility to grant it." Solas kissed her.

"I need a dance partner. I want to practice before the ball."

Solas's smile widened. "I would be happy to oblige. Let us change into something more suitable shall we? You will not be dancing in armor."

Cullen and Josephine arrived in Lydes under cover of nightfall. Duchess Caralina met them and while she and Josephine exchanged pleasantries, Cullen saw the troops to their camp for the night. They'd only brought a small force with them, knowing anything large could be viewed as a threat. Cullen had handpicked soldiers for the ball. It was imperative that they stood ready to stop Corypheus's plot to assassinate Empress Celene.

Or Orlais falls into chaos, Cullen thought. So much rests on the Inquisitor. But did he ever doubt a word from those wine-stained lips? Did that hazel gaze ever lie to him? The stumbling of her early days had been replaced with assured steps: a drive for better, a drive for compassion. Cullen had heard about how she listened to other people's problems, had experienced her caring nature first-hand…

He regrouped with Josephine. Leliana met them at the entrance to the estate.

"The Inquisitor is not in her quarters," the Spymaster said, "but I believe I know her location."

"We should get her," Cullen said. "There's not much time before the ball tomorrow."

"Agreed," Josephine said.

Leliana led them inside the estate. It displayed the typical lavishness of all Orlesian nobles' dwellings. Cullen was not impressed by the vivid portraits, exquisite furnishings, plush cushions, or velvet curtains. He just wanted to see the Inquisitor again. His insomnia had been nearly unbearable without their nightly talks, and his thoughts on the journey to Lydes had not drifted far from Myra.

They approached the foyer in the center of the estate. Mid-way to the door, they heard a minstrel's song.

"Once we were

In our peace

With our lives assured

Once we were

Not afraid of the dark."

Leliana opened the door. They entered to find a couple dancing by the light of the full moon: Solas and Myra.

"One we sat in our kingdom

With hope and pride

Once we ran through

The fields in great strides."

Cullen watched Solas walk Myra across the dance floor. She had a small smile on her face and held herself with pride and grace. Solas looked at her and guided her closer to him. She obliged, resting her hand on his shoulder, other hand in his. They stepped in time to the music.

"We held the Fade

And the demon's flight

So far from our children

And from our lives."

Myra smiled at Solas. A whole, genuine smile, not the wry ones she so often wore. She looked at him, entranced, following his every step perfectly. Solas's hands snuck around her back, pulling her even closer.

"We held together

The fragile sky

To keep our way of life."

Josephine sighed romantically at the sight. Myra's ears perked and she stopped to find the noise's source, but Solas guided her gaze back to him and shook his head. He kissed her deeply. Cullen watched Myra's entirety relax at his touch. His heart caught in his throat. He shifted uncomfortably.

Immediately, he derided himself for his discomfort at the sight. She's with Solas.

"I hope we're not interrupting," Leliana said, smiling coyly.

Solas, Solas, Solas…

Myra flushed. "I was preparing for the ball."

"Don't let us interrupt," Josephine said and turned to leave, but Leliana grabbed her arm. She eyed Cullen. He didn't know what to do, so he simply nodded. The Spymaster turned back to Myra.

"You'll have plenty of dancing at the ball, my lady," Leliana said. "Perhaps we should prepare in other ways, considering the arrival of the Commander and our Lady Ambassador?"

Myra looked to Solas. How could such innocent doe eyes taunt the Commander like a Desire Demon? How could they possibly look to Cullen for anything? The spark between her and Cullen was nothing compared to how she lit up with Solas.

"Go, da'len," Solas said. "We will dance again." He kissed her good night and departed.

The minstrel left shortly after Solas, leaving the Inquisitor and her Advisors to create a makeshift War Room. Leliana seemed to eye Cullen suspiciously as they prepared, but Cullen ignored her.

"Forgive me for asking, Your Worship," Josephine began, "but I was wondering… 'Da'len,' is it an elvish word?"

"Correct, Lady Ambassador."

"What does it mean?"

"It's a term of endearment. The literal translation would be 'little person,' I suppose. It's typically used for children." Myra paused. "I…call him 'hahren', which is a term of respect, typically reserved for elders." She flushed, looking down as she shuffled her feet. "He's certainly wise."

"You and Solas have been together since Haven," Leliana said suddenly.

Myra blinked. "We've always had a connection."

"Still, rather quick to commit to someone, no?"

"There were no obstacles," Myra said.

"There were no obstacles to be had," Leliana said.

The air changed after Leliana's comment. Cullen shifted uneasily. Myra's entire stature changed. Josephine flipped through some papers. Leliana's eyes twinkled with mischief, and suddenly, Myra's smile became coy.

"What obstacles are there to be had?" Myra asked.

"Perhaps you should answer that, Lady Inquisitor."

Myra took a few graceful steps away from Leliana, as if dancing to the minstrel's music once more. She floated to the makeshift War Table, where Josephine had already laid out a map of the Winter Palace.

Josephine laid out one of the Inquisition uniforms for the ball on the table.

"They look wonderful, Josie!" Myra said. "Excellent job."

She changed the subject, Cullen noted.

"I gave everyone's measurements to the tailor, so they should fit right, but if everyone can try them on tonight and tell me if they fit, I can take them to a tailor tomorrow before the ball and have them fixed."

"It's important to keep up appearances," Myra said. "Do the others have their uniforms?"

"Yes, the one on the table is yours."

"Should I go try it on then?"

"If you would."

Myra left the room. Upon leaving, Leliana turned to Josephine.

"She entered the Game for a moment," the Spymaster said.

"I felt it too," Josephine said.

"Is that what that exchange was?" Cullen asked. "The Inquisitor looked so…different."

"Were you looking, Commander?" Leliana asked.

"The Inquisitor and I are friends and nothing more."

Leliana smirked. "I never said you were. But you two are rather close, no?"

"Am I next on your list for scrutiny?"

Josephine cut between the two. "Myra would never leave Solas."

"That is true."

Leliana's gaze did not stop twinkling. She was still in the Game.

"Besides, they are so endearing of a couple. Perish the thought of them ever—"

The door opened and Myra re-entered the room. "Josie, how is this supposed to look?"

"Oh dear." Josephine ran to Myra. The Inquisitor's trousers dragged on the ground underneath her feet.

"They must have thought the Inquisitor was taller!" Josephine lamented.

Myra laughed. "Hush, Josie. Your tailor can fix it."

"They must!" Josephine cried.

"Otherwise, it seems to fit fine."

"Let me have a look."

Cullen watched as Myra twisted and turned for Josephine's examination. He watched her laugh lightly as she bantered with the Lady Ambassador…watched as her ears perked as she listened to Josephine's advice. He watched her expressive face change with each emotion, so telling of her honest character.

And yet, his relationship with her was nothing but confusing to him. The insomnia had been worse when she was gone, and there was not a single night during his week apart from her he hadn't longed to be at her side, hear her voice, see her face…

That moment, he realized something: Perhaps there was something more between himself and the Lady Inquisitor.

Cullen rubbed his temples amidst the throng of ladies that had congregated around him. They giggled and fanned themselves, which, knowing Orlesians and the Game, could be some sort of secret marriage proposal. He wouldn't be surprised with how they flaunted and preened themselves around him.

It exasperated him. The same scenario happened with each noblewoman who joined the throng. She would say something like, "Would you join me on the dance floor, Commander?" To which he would reply, "No, thank you." Each polite decline of an invitation only seemed to come across as a challenge to them as they teased and taunted him.

"Desire Demons give up sooner than this lot," he muttered under his breath as he gulped down his wine and signaled a servant. "Get me something strong, please" he said. "It's going to be a long night…"

"Yes, serah," the elven servant bade and bowed her head before hurrying off to take other drink orders. Endless moments dragged on as the ball continued and the damn noblewomen continued to flock around their "prized stallion." (He wasn't kidding, one of the women had really called him her "prized stallion." Maker's breath.) The Commander was so preoccupied looking for the servant to come with his drink that he hadn't noticed the Inquisitor slip beside him until she had snaked her arm around him.

"Inquisitor!" He jumped a bit, blushing at her proximity.

"Oh, Cullen, darling, no need to use such formal titles here. I have been looking everywhere for you." She placed a hand on his chest before she looked around, seeming to notice the women surrounding him for the first time.

"Oh, darling, I see you've made so many friends while I was gone." The look she gave them could have chilled the most seasoned soldier to the bone. The noblewomen fanned themselves and looked to each other nervously.

"My Lady Inquisitor, we hadn't the slightest idea that you and the Commander were so...close," one said.

"Oh, darlings, don't fret. I'm sure none of you would enter where you are not welcome. Etiquette would not permit, no?"

"No, no, no!" The ladies chorused. They gave their sincerest apologies and left to different corners of the ballroom.

"You owe me a dance," Myra said.

"I don't dance," Cullen said quickly.

"Neither do I, but Josephine had me take lessons." She was already leading him to the dance floor. Andraste help him, the Inquisitor was leading him to the dance floor.

"Wouldn't you rather dance with Solas?" He asked quickly. Maker's Breath, could he sound any pettier?

Myra looked back at him to frown as she continued to lead them onward. Cullen regretted his words immediately.

She pulled him close, resting her hand on his shoulder. Couples twirled around them and Myra followed their lead. Even inebriated, her every move still seemed methodical, if not a tad clumsier. Wait a second…Damn it, when had they reached the dance floor?

But it was too late for second guessing or to pull back. It felt to Cullen as though the eyes of every attendee rested upon them. His face flashed bright red as Myra pulled herself into his grasp: tight, close.

"For the record, I did ask Solas," Myra said. She swayed to the music and Cullen found himself instinctually follow in suit. Maker's Breath, she was even more beautiful up-close; he could hardly focus on what she was actually saying. Her red suit only seemed to bring out the blue tones to her black hair, tightly wrapped in a bun, as always. Her tattoos, a dark blue, partially hid the dark circles under her eyes, not entirely, but her hazel eyes sparked with life.

"…so then I asked Leliana and Josephine what they thought, and as you can tell by their giggling on the upper deck of the ballroom, you can only imagine they wholeheartedly supported any effort to embarrass you further."

Cullen jerked back into reality by the smile of those deep red lips. They look so soft…

"Distracted, Commander?"

"Y-yes, I mean, n-no, of course not, but perhaps a bit…"

"Hush," Myra said.

"Yes, Inquisitor."

"Myra," she said.

"I—yes, Myra."

Myra smirked a bit at that. "I don't think I've ever seen you so flustered, Commander."

"Cullen," he said, flushing further. Could his face get any redder?

"Cullen." The name rolled off her tongue. "Yes, I like that better."

They waltzed around the dance floor, eventually making their way to the center. Surely, nobles whispered about the Inquisitor dancing with her Commander, but Cullen could not hear them over the sound of his own pounding heart. Here she was, so close to him, her chest flush with his, her hand in his. He found his footing, beginning to lead her. She grinned at this change of pace and followed him eagerly. He twirled her around, watching her lithe frame as he pulled her back into him. Their eyes were only for each other, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two on the entire dance floor.

What game was she playing at? He searched her eyes for some sort of clue, but all he could see was that familiar spark. Could that spark mean something…something more?

The band stopped playing and their dance naturally came to a halt. The two did not break gaze. Something about her eyes…drew him in…

…

Applause from the nobles. He stopped himself and drew back, clearing his throat. Myra blinked a few times before giving a smile, but something seemed off about that smile…as though it wasn't wholly genuine. Myra bowed and Cullen bowed back.

I can't believe what I almost did. His eyes flitted about the crowd, searching for sign of anyone catching onto his intention, but the Orlesians revealed nothing behind their masks. Maker's breath, I can't believe what I almost did.

Duchess Florianne approached the pair and curtseyed. "Greetings, Commander and Lady Inquisitor." She turned to Myra. "Might I have this dance?"

Myra looked to Cullen, but her expression was unreadable and polite. She had delved into the Game once more, or had she ever left?

"It would be my pleasure, Duchess." Myra bowed and took the Duchess's hand, beginning to dance. Cullen saw his way off the dance floor, head spinning with more questions than there were would ever be answers.

"Inquis—Myra?"

Myra did not turn to address the Commander. She stood on the balcony she'd discussed the fate of Orlais with its leaders a mere hour prior. Now, it acted not as a stage to decide Orlais's leader, but a quiet place of reprieve from the ball's festivities. She was smoking from her pipe, blowing perfect smoke o's. The night had drained much from her physically, mentally, and emotionally.

"Sorry for intruding," Cullen said, "but the damned noblewomen won't leave me alone."

Nevertheless, she welcomed the Commander's company. "I needed a break from the ball as well." She held out the pipe to him. He took it and toked.

"Nothing like a pipe of spindleweed after a long night," Myra said.

Cullen sighed. "The longest night I can remember…"

Myra chuckled, the smoke jutting clumsily from her lips. Cullen smiled at her. Then, he turned to the distance Frostbacks.

"It'll be nice to finally be back at Skyhold," he said.

"Agreed," Myra said. "Though it's a shame."

"Why?"

"I won't have an excuse to dance with you again."

"I'm sure Solas would be happy to—"

"I'm sure he would."

Yes, Solas, of course. Briefly, Myra wondered if her motives for dancing with the Commander really were an innocent teasing between friends or something more. She couldn't tell; the Game convoluted everything.

"Myra," Cullen looked to her. She could see him wringing his hands around the railing of the balcony. Was this it? Would he finally confess his feelings for her?

Her heart pounded in her chest. She waited for his next words, ready to brand them into her memory.

Footsteps approached. Myra turned around to find Solas standing behind them. He nodded his greetings.

"Commander, if I might have a moment with the Inquisitor?"

Why is he asking? She looked to Cullen, but he refused to meet her gaze. He seemed ashamed.

"You're my best friend," he finally said. He left the balcony quickly, leaving her and Solas alone.

"I'm not surprised to find you here."

"You know me far too well," Myra said, smiling at Solas.

He settled next to her easily, filling the gap Cullen had just left. They rested their elbows on the stone of the balcony, staring at the cold Frostbacks on the horizon, white caps glistening in the moonlight. The winter bluster shook Myra to the bone. She put out her pipe and stuffed it in her pocket. She hunched her shoulders to keep warm.

"Thoughts?" Solas asked.

"Fragile." She answered immediately. "Everything feels…fragile."

"Is this an internal feeling or an external observation?"

"Both."

Solas stared out to the mountains. "Such is to be expected from someone in your position. Many here have lived and breathed the Game since birth. You were thrown into tonight, and played it flawlessly. Not all can boast of such talent."

Myra snorted. "I don't boast."

"No, you are far too modest, and, as usual, not giving yourself due credit."

"I…feel like this victory is only temporary," Myra said.

"There is certainly more trouble to come." Solas jumped back a pace. "Dance with me, quickly, before the band stops playing." He bowed and extended his hand.

Myra stared for a moment, then smiled at his uncharacteristic enthusiasm. How much has he had to drink tonight?

Maybe it was the two glasses of wine she'd indulged in before going outside for some air, or maybe it was the elf's infectious enthusiasm, but Myra abandoned her hesitations. "Okay, but I might be all danced out."

"We'll go slow," Solas promised.

Myra took his hand and he pulled her close, swaying and stepping slowly in time to the music. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck and sighed happily.

Solas's hand trailed down her waist, twitching her hips before settling.

Myra glanced through the open doorway only to meet Cullen's gaze. His expression was pained…Myra glanced away quickly and missed a step, tripping over herself.

"Are you alright?" Solas asked. He reached down and helped her up to the bench. She breathed heavily, recovering from her little fall.

"I'm fine. Ir abelas." She looked back to where Cullen had been staring only to see an Orlesian had taken his place.

"Hmmm…" Solas said, "perhaps a different kind of dance would be more…enjoyable for you?"

Myra got the feeling he didn't mean the vertical kind of dancing. "I…we've never…" Those drinks must have been stronger than she thought. She could barely think straight. "Where?"

"Where no one will see us, of course. We can't have the Lady Inquisitor's good name tarnished, now can we?"

"I'd tarnish it with your company above all else," she replied.

He took her hand and led her back into the ballroom. They slipped quickly past the nobles and fellow companions before reaching the West Wing.

"We're not really gong to—"

Solas cocked a brow. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"I—in the Empress's room?"

"Where better would we find a place thriving with such scandalous sexual energy?" He walked her to the wall, pressing himself against her. "Empress of my heart, you look most ravishing tonight." He sucked hungrily on her neck, making her mewl like a kitten.

"No marks!" she cried. "Careful, don't leave marks."

"Mmm, my apologies," he pressed a glowing hand against her neck. The welt radiated with warmth as he kissed her with the same ferocity.

"Maybe we should partake in the Game more often," Myra said breathlessly.

"Vhenan, you pique my arousal."

"I'm sure I pique something else too."

"Oh, you do." He carried her to the bed and threw her underneath him. "My interest, my curiosity, my sentimentality long lost on all but Spirits…but that wasn't your implication, was it?"

"Smooth talker."

His hands slowly slid up her legs and he began to rub circles into her thighs. Myra flushed. She felt the same as the night she lost her virginity to Trewyn, trembling with nerves and excitement. It had been months since anyone had touched her like this, not since her drunken debacle with Blackwall. She'd saved herself for Solas, never knowing if he'd deliver. Now, she knew he had every intention to.

He pulled down the trousers to her formal uniform. Kisses blossomed on her inner thighs before Solas seemed to have other thoughts. He touched her gently through her smallclothes, somehow flicking her clit exactly where it rest. Myra gasped as pleasure jolted through her body, sudden and fleeting. She craved more, but Solas had something else in mind.

He gave her light, tantalizing touches with one hand whilst unbuttoning her shirt with the other. She helped with the more stubborn buttons, but his nimble fingers managed to free most of them. As she squirmed underneath him, he kissed up her navel, past her ribs, then rested his lips over her heart. She felt his breath brush over her skin as he sighed and looked up at her.

His eyes commanded her attention. "Ar lath ma." He continued to brush her clit through her smallclothes. She wriggled and writhed.

"Ar lath ma, hahren." She pleaded. "Please."

"Please?" He worked his kisses further up, sucking on her collarbone briefly. His tongue traveled up her neck, then he nibbled on her ear lobe. "Please what?" He whispered.

Myra flushed. "You know what." She looked away embarrassedly. "By the Dread Wolf, you make me feel like a virgin."

"The Dread Wolf?" He smirked. "An interesting choice." She felt his hand caress her face as he diverted her gaze back to him. "Myra…I do not wish to embarrass you. I merely wish...for the knowledge our desires align tonight." He kissed her gently, but Myra did not have the patience for "gently." Not with his finger still rubbing her clit. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, her tongue delving deep within the cavern behind his lips.

He returned her passion ten-fold, his tongue fluttering against hers. She rubbed her legs together. One of his hands found its way to her breast and his fingers found her nipple. They flicked, squeezed, tugged. He was so methodical in his passion, listening intently to her moans of pleasure and changing his actions to what made her cry the loudest. His other hand slipped inside her smallclothes, his thumb on her clit, his middle finger slipping inside easily.

Myra covered her own mouth, but Solas removed her hand. He must have wanted to hear her every moan just as his hands would feel every quiver of pleasure. His gaze drank in her form as his finger curved within her, wriggling against the spongy tissue deep inside. Myra cried out as his thumb continued to rub her clit. How he had the dexterity to do both, Myra did not know, nor did she care, her mind overloaded by her senses that screamed pleasure and demanded satisfaction.

She felt the tears well in her eyes. She tried to hide them, but Solas was too perceptive for that. He didn't stop. He knew he didn't have to. He wiped them away and kissed her gently, continuing to pleasure her.

"Do you enjoy my touch, vhenan?"

"Yes, yes, yes...!"

"I'd like to pleasure you in other ways, if you are willing."

"Please, yes…"

He took his finger out then slipped it into his mouth. His mouth twisted thoughtfully, as though savoring the taste. Then, he slipped off her smallclothes and lowered his mouth to the lips between her legs. For moments that felt like an eternity, he merely breathed heavily. He made Myra squirm.

Finally, he buried his face between her legs. A few deep licks, as he lapped up the juices, then quick flutters of his tongue over her bulging knob. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked, hungrily. Myra wriggled and writhed, screamed and cried. The pleasure bubbled inside of her, and she felt the legs tighten around his head, trapping him into pleasuring her. She wasn't in control now, her body tightened and relaxed against her bidding, until finally, the pleasure came to a boil.

"Don't stop," Myra said, her voice throaty with pleasure. "Don't stop. Creators' names, don't stop…!" Her jaw dropped as a series of moans escaped her mouth. Her body quaked and quivered, her legs bucked and buckled, Solas's gaze weighed heavily upon her as he watched her orgasm.

Finally, the contractions came to a close. Myra panted heavily, endorphins flooding every fiber of her being as Solas sat up and licked her juices from his lips. When he kissed her, she could taste herself on his lips. She felt her eyes drooping.

She made out the lopsided smile of her lover.

"I love you so much," she said.

"Mmm, vhenan…" He kissed her neck a few times before helping her get dressed, then he kissed her sweetly on the lips. "Come, we should leave before the guards investigate."

And so they slipped out of the Empress's quarters and back to the ballroom.