Chapter 31! Woop!

The fluff is strong in this one. Enjoy xD

Disclaimer: Not mine, y'all!

-o-

Chapter 31 – 9032 Years, and Still Going Strong!

"We are taking a day off," the Inquisitor said one morning at the War Table. "and tonight will be Wicked Grace, mead, wine, and friends, for those who want to come."

"That sounds perfect, in fact," Hermione replied as she gave Trevelyan a happy smile.

-o-

"Well, this will cost me, I suspect," Hermione said later that night as she picked up her cards. "Since this is the first time I play Wicked Grace."

Varric chuckled. "Remember, cheating is allowed...as long as you don't get caught. Getting caught means you lose the hand by default."

"Cheating is allowed; check. Are there any cheating-guidelines? Are there limits?"

"Your limit is where your creativity ends," Varric replied, smirking at her. "In other words; get creative."

Challenge accepted, Hermione thought, giving Varric an amused smile.

-o-

Dorian is using magic! Hermione thought a while later. Is that allowed?

Everything is allowed, that was the rule, wasn't it?

It would have been so easy. So easy, using Legilimency on her opponents. She could easily slip into anyone's mind without them noticing. A mere brush of the surface, and she would know what cards the person had.

It would be boring, though.

Should I bust Dorian? was her next thought. No. I'll put focus on the whole cheating-with-magic-thing then.

-o-

Hermione played rather safe for the first hour or so, wanting to actually learn the game before 'getting creative' as Varric suggested.

Learn the rules carefully, so you can break them properly, Hermione thought as she folded yet another hand. Well, the game isn't exactly rocket science. Nor are the rules. Let's see if I can break them properly, then.

Hermione was pleased as punch – she didn't let it show, though – to see that her next hand was a rather good one. Let's break some rules, she thought, and placed a bet on the table.

"Oh you daredevil, you! I'm in."

Hermione gave Dorian an amused smile just as she brushed the surface of his mind. Not so deep that she would know what cards he had, but so she could get a faint sense of how he was feeling.

Confident. He felt confident. He had a decent hand, at least, then.

Varric joined in as well, and eventually the three of them was faced with the final round of betting. Hermione brushed the surface of Varric's mind. He was…less confident than he looked.

He probably had a good hand to begin with, she thought, but then he didn't get any of the cards he needed.

Varric was bluffing. For the most part, at least.

Hermione glanced at her cards. Her hand was a good one. It had begun as a good hand, and then she got two more cards she needed, resulting in a hand that had potential to win this round. And the pot, not to forget. They'd had several rounds of betting, and the pot was rather excessive at this point.

That was why Varric hesitated to fold, wasn't it? Because he had already invested so much of his gold into this pot that folding now would be rather bitter.

He didn't fold, and Hermione inwardly smirked.

She brushed over Dorian's mind. He had already declared that he was in until the end, and was sitting leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed as ever.

His mind, however, his mind told a completely different story. Dorian was bluffing. Probably on a whole new level.

Hermione strongly suspected that her hand was the best hand, and after pretending to contemplate whether she should bet or not, she sighed. "Alright, I'm in."

A minute or two later, Hermione had something that looked like a small pirate-treasure in front of her on the table.

It was actually a decent sum of money, she realised as she looked at it. Not that she needed money, because the content of her Gringotts vault was rather excessive, and since she was in the process of moving her fortune to a new, bigger vault – the goblins had to lift the heavy enchantments, and then place them on her new vault, something that would take two days, and Hermione had just decided to carry her fortune with her for those two days, instead of it lying in an unprotected vault.

Breaking into Gringotts was possible, after all. She knew from personal experience.

Before she could return her fortune to Gringotts however, she had landed herself in Thedas.

She had no idea how much gold she had, but she would probably be able to buy the Winter Palace, if she should wish.

"Lethallan," Solas said, nudging her with his elbow, "your turn."

"Oh, sorry, I was lost in thought," she said, picking up her cards. Another good hand.

-o-

"You're cheating, I know you are," Varric said an hour or so later. "But how?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," Hermione replied as she collected her small pile of coins, adding them to the rather vast amount she already had.

It wasn't like she was always winning. She was wrong sometimes, and every time she found herself faced with The Dread Wolf, she was in trouble. She didn't dare enter his mind, because there was a slight chance he would feel it, and then her game would be up. She tried to read his body language instead, she did know him rather well by now, after all, but found it practically impossible.

The fact that she'd had four glasses of wine and one oversized mug of mead did nothing to help.

She had just folded, and realised the two still remaining was Solas and Josephine.

Hermione could see the moment when Solas turned on his smooth-switch.

Josephine didn't. Not right away. She was focused on her cards, but when she looked up, meeting Solas' fixed gaze - fixed on her nonetheless - she almost hiccupped a breath.

"Now, Lady Montilyet," The Dread Wolf said in a voice that made Lady Montilyet forget how to breathe from the looks of it, "are you bluffing this time, hmm?"

Hermione looked around, and realised the table had gone quiet. Everyone was looking at Solas.

Merlin, he could create a new religion when he does that, Hermione thought. He would have the masses worshipping him, just by giving them that look - the one where he tilts his head down slightly, and narrows his eyes so that his eyebrows looks all dangerous and ridiculously sexy.

How apt, was her next thought. If he created a new religion. He is a god, after all. Why not worship The Dread Wolf?

Dorian would definitely convert, she thought as she looked at Dorian. The man was looking at Solas like he wanted to eat him. Or be eaten by The Dread Wolf, quite possibly. He would volunteer for the role of blood sacrifice, in this new religion. There would be a line of willing blood sacrifices.

Josephine had definitely forgotten the whole concept of breathing. "She isn't breathing, da'harel," Hermione said in elven. "She will probably faint if you continue like that."

"Is that even possible, Lethallan?" The Dread Wolf replied in elven, still looking at Josephine. "Curious, I must say."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Look at her, Solas. She is practically dying. Also, the whole table is fixed on you. You will accidentally create a new cult if you continue this. A new cult consisting of the inner circle of the Inquisition. Wouldn't that be just lovely?"

Solas gazed at Josephine for a long moment. "Breathe, da'hellathen," he said almost softly, resulting in Josephine not breathing at all.

"Solas!" Hermione said in a mirthful voice, especially when hearing what he called her. "Your Dread Wolf is showing, Solas!" She leaned over, gazing at his cards. "Also, Josephine wins this round. Solas' cards are remarkably terrible."

Dorian smiled wryly. "Don't you mean remarkably…dreadful?"

Hermione couldn't help it, she broke down in a complete laughing fit.

When she finally managed to stop laughing, she looked up and found Solas looking at her with one eyebrow raised. "You lost me my round."

Hermione gave him a mirthful look. "Well, considering how your victory may or may not have ended in death for your opponent, I think I made the right decision."

"What did he call her?"

Hermione gave Varric an amused look. "He called her 'little noble struggle'."

Varric thought about it for a moment, but then he burst out laughing. "How…apt."

-o-

"I wonder," Hermione said dreamily, two glasses of wine later, "how it is to be a drunk wolf?"

"I think, vhenan," Solas replied softly, causing Josephine to sigh in the process, "that you would look utterly ridiculous."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I would probably have trouble with the force of my bite, something that might just be unfortunate for you."

"Well, Lethallan," he said, giving her a glittery look, "you would have to catch me first. While drunk."

She narrowed her eyes even more. "I swear I will begin setting out wolf-traps if you don't stop sassing me."

He smirked at her, but then his eyes softened. "Ir abelas, emma lath," he said as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "I blame the wine," he added, giving her a wry smile.

"What, you accidentally got the sass-wine?" Hermione said, giving him a mirthful look. "Also; you are thousands of years and a genuine elven god, Solas. You can't 'blame the wine', because that is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. The excuse 'I blame the wine' was removed from your list of 'believable excuses' approximately three thousand years ago, or so." She paused, thinking a bit. "How old are you, really? I keep choosing a random number every time I refer to your age."

Solas gave her a somewhat jaded look, and she briefly thought she had touched a sensitive subject. Not that she knew why this would be a sensitive subject, but then again, she was not an ancient elven god. Solas' perspective on things like age and time was probably rather different than hers.

Luckily, the small smile he gave her was an amused one. "Old enough for age to mean nothing,"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Your ancient elven god is showing, love, because that sounded like one of those 'words of wisdom' people seem to find inspiring. I like to call them 'vague words of wisdom', and that saying there would be on the front cover." Solas actually chuckled, and Hermione gave him a wry, but genuine, warm smile before continuing. "Alright, if you are to be vague, let's see if I can figure it out myself."

Hermione – helped by the Well of Sorrows – tried her best to puzzle the pieces together, and eventually, she looked at Solas with surprised eyes. "Never mind what I said about the excuse 'I blame the wine' being removed from your list of believable excuses approximately three thousand years ago. It was removed from the list at least eight thousand years ago. Am I right?"

"Add one millennia, and I would say yes."

"Merlin's golden knickers," Hermione almost whispered. "Nine thousand years? Well, that's just…completely insane…and ridiculous." She raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you celebrate your birthday any longer? Just imagine the birthday cards; Happy Birthday! 9032 years, and still going strong!" Pausing, she contemplated this for a moment. "That should become a thing, quite frankly. I could write things like; 9032 years, and still, you don't look a day over 8572! Happy Birthday!" She paused again. "That's ridiculous, Solas. Also, I suddenly feel like a toddler. I'm 36 years old, and until just ten seconds ago, I thought I was an adult." She paused again. "How can you honestly find me – or anyone for that matter – interesting? I have lived for 36 years, how can anything I say or do be even remotely interesting to you?"

Solas gave her a soft look. "When I say I am old enough for age to mean nothing, I do mean that. It's just time, Lethallan. It means nothing. Time is the one thing that never changes. It always moves, flows, it is always there, but it means nothing. We measure in time, when in reality time has nothing to do with anything. A tree will grow to a proper size in five years. But the years have nothing to do with its growth. The tree grows because of the nurture in the soil, the sun, the rain, and the air. Time does not grow the tree. As for how I can find anyone interesting? The world constantly changes. There is always something new to experience, something new to learn. You have – in the 36 years you've lived – acquired knowledge and wisdom, not to mention experienced things I know nothing about. Thus, what you say and do is interesting to me."

"That makes a lot of sense, actually," Hermione said softly. "And it makes me feel less inferior. Thank you, love." She paused, and had a sudden realisation. "Solas...is the unnerving silence due to the fact that everyone left, or because everyone is listening?"

He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he sighed. "The latter, I suspect."

"How is it we always end up in these situations?"

"Because you forget your surroundings," Leliana said, dreamily. "Both of you. Nothing else exists. I always thought something like this was just a fantasy in romance books. How remarkable to see that fantasies can be real, no?"

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose before turning to look at their audience. Oh Merlin, she thought. They all look like I did when I watched the Notebook. Even Varric. What is the world coming to?

"I have to say," Dorian said in an amused voice, mixed with the same dreamy tone Leliana had, "it was a real challenge to keep from laughing at the 'you don't look a day over 8572'."

"This is better than the romance novels," Varric declared, and Hermione inwardly groaned when hearing the excitement in his voice. "The forlorn, misunderstood elven god – please don't kill me, Chuckles – wandering the world all alone for thousands of years, until the world is on the verge of complete destruction – the end of the world, quite literally – so he steps in, saves the one person who can actually save the world. And then everything changes as a woman from another world comes along, knows who he is, and accept it, accept him, which leads the rest to accept it as well. The elf doesn't need to hide who he is any longer. And the woman from another world – the woman who spent her whole life searching for purpose, for…something – she finds that purpose in this world a the verge of destruction."

Hermione didn't know whether to be embarrassed or fascinated. She did know, however, that she didn't want to hear the rest of the story, and held up a hand to stop Varric. "Yes, yes. You are in fact quite finished, Varric," she said before switching to elven as she turned to Solas. "Would you like to hear the rest of Varric's epic tale about our adventures, or would you like to leave?"

"The latter. Most definitely the latter."

"Indeed," Hermione said before turning to their audience. "Thank you for a lovely evening, but we are going to leave before Varric's storytelling gets out of hand."

Varric grinned. "But I hadn't even gotten to the best part yet! Oh well, I'll make sure you get a copy of the book after it's published."

The Dread Wolf appeared next to her, sporting a clearly unimpressed expression. "I'll be waiting with bated breath, Child of the Stone."

Hermione burst into laughter, and was still laughing when she left the tavern accompanied by a very amused trickster-god.