Chapter Text
Skyrim’s Bathhouse was one of the eldest parts in the castle. Massive stone blocks covered with faded paint broken by unobtrusive slits for fresh air and scattered mosaics on the floor. Generous alcoves for those who required privacy with water filled stone basins and little fireplaces to warm it. The real treasures were two enormous bathtubs made out of stone which could easily hold ten persons each without breaking Andrastian decency. The levity those tubs must have seen through the ages.
Dorian was soaked to his waist and hot, steaming water in one of the big tubs. It was the second morning in a row that he stubbed his toe waking in an instant fully up; his favourite yellow tunic had still a horrible wine stain (certainly not his fault) on it and he was kind of homesick, not the people he missed but the mild nights and the various scents of Minrathous. The city smelled like ancient vellum slowly decaying but the scent of the many spice markets covered it quite well. Spices from all over the world one could get there, scented oils for the body, essences to bath in and a myriad of flowers.
If he felt homesick he searched out the quiet, steamy warmth of the bathhouse. It was easy here to imagine he was still back in Tevinter where such baths were more common than in the south. There were dozens in every city for every social class but they were more used for establishing new allies or plotting the demise of old ones. Playing The Game, in water and vapour, Tevinter Style.
His musings were broken by the opening of the door and a disgruntled, in honey covered Solas.
“Again, Solas? What have you done to earn you Seras Sticky Nightmare twice? Would the encounter yesterday morning not teach you to beware if you open doors?”, Dorian smirked, “I hope your spare robes are already clean, I may be swayed to borrow you one of mine if you prefer the wine to honey.”
The look he earned for this quip could have left him in ashes.
“You may want to check your heating spell; I think your brain is overcooked. I came back yesterday afternoon from Val Royeaux with the Inquisitor, Cole and The Iron Bull.”
Shedding his sweater Solas moved out of sight to one of the alcoves, missing the flabbergasted look on Dorians face.
“Kaffas!”
oOo
“Okay, this is not funny. Get a grip, Rasha. They are looking at you and getting this worried-for-my-sanity faces, obviously this is no prank. Make the dream test. Concentrate and try to let your shoes vanish.”
Her eyes closed and breathing heavily from the effort to contain her laughter, Rasha Lavellan, current Inquisitor really hoped this for a dream.
“Well, I tried. Let’s go with this is reality. Ask for a break.”
“Excuse me please, I find myself in desperate need for more tea. I’ll be right back with another cup and we can get serious work done. I promise.”
Smiling and simultaneously moving to the door, the urge to laugh still simmered near the surface.
“Very good, change the setting. This could still be a dream. A very realistic one, albeit not your first, right? The last one ended rather well, no?”
Exiting the War Room she nearly was run over by Dorian with a look on his face that let the laughter bubbling back up.
“You too? Who did come up with this scheme? I really am intrigued. You took advantage of my tea addiction and the effort alone to bring all into this. Bravo! How did you get Solas to get honeyed twice?” she was laughing wholehearted, deep from the belly.
Dorian took Lavellan’s shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.
“Rasha, I hate to break this to you but I need you to stop laughing and I need you to look into my eyes. Yes... you remember this look? And the one occasion that you saw this peculiar one?”
Tears of laughter were in her eyes but slowly as she centred her green eyes on Dorians brown ones she whispered:” This is no prank?” He shook his head.
“No dream?” Another shake.
Time travel? Again?!” A nod of Dorians head, never leaving her gaze.
“Do you remember our little experiment yesterday?”
“On the battlements... Creators, we travelled a day back in time? You said it was safe!” groaned Lavellan and closed her eyes.
“It is, is it? We are not dead.”
“Well, you have me here. But what do we do?” she fell into the chair by Josephine’s fireplace.
“I think it matters more what we don’t do. What else do you remember?” Dorian reached into his pocket and out came Alexius’ amulet.
Pinching her nose Rasha said:” My arm felt weird and I was late for Viviennes lunch. I dozed off in the garden after dancing lessons and woke up sitting besides Varric, a cup of tea in my hand. Why can you remember yesterday? And no one else?”
“Maybe because I stood near you as you casted the rift; we do nothing with the amulet and nothing should happen. I calculate the odds again but I think it is the best we can do. Speaking of which my last memory yesterday was in the library reading and I thought I should eat something but I have no memory of eating or getting to bed. I just woke up fully as I stabbed my toe. Curious.”
“So we continue this day as nothing would be amiss?”
Dorian nodded and said nothing and this was a serious sign that he was already off in calculations.
“Dorian, they thought I lost my mind in there. After I made Cullens report about troop movements on The Stormcoast including my best imitation of his voice and posture. What can I possibly say?”
“You need more tea?”
oOo
Lucky for her it was not unusual that she behaved odd when lacking tea. Word had travelled fast after her very first encounter with Josephine and she made instantly a silent court protocol that the Inquisitor may not be approached if in one of her hands was a cup.
Lavellan apologized contritely and was after a quick errand in the kitchen equipped with enough tea to wake a dragon. They made good work and as yesterday, by midday they were finished.
Like yesterday she had an appointment with Madame de Fer for lunch.
Thanks to the huge amount of tea she drank in the morning, she was reasonably awake and the names of the various cutleries were still fresh in mind. She chose twice wrong but as Vivienne put it:”Two out of six is a remarkable progress and it took less time that I had anticipated.” That was rather civil of her if Rasha thought back on yesterday. Her arm began clenching again but she ignored it because the highlight was being served. Frilly Cakes.
Taking the la pouce-fourche and deftly breaking a tiny piece of the cake, she hummed with pleasure. It was thanks to a huge part of self contain from her side, that she did not took the cake in her hand and pop it whole into her mouth. It was Dark Embrium with berries, her favourite.
“I was wondering my dear, why is it that you can move fast and gracefully through the battlefield handling your staff niftily but as soon as you stand in a dancing pose you have the hand-feet coordination of a frozen nug.”
"Look," she said striving for resigned cheerfulness, "everyone has things that they just can't do. With me, it's dancing. I read books and close rifts. Other people dance." She shrugged taking another fork full of cake, "Why don't we just write this off as a lost cause?"
Vivienne just looked at her and she didn't think that there was annoyance in her eyes; no, it was something closer to... understanding? And then it was gone.
“Absolutely not! You are blessed with the power to count, perfectly functional hearing if enough tea is produced and a fair sense of balance. It is simply a matter of time.”
Mentally seeing herself and Josephine dance in front of Vivienne, seasons passing by in the background, she shuddered.
“I shall say after an hour of rest to let the meal sink in, we should meet at Josephine’s office. There is ample space in there. Until then take as many cakes as you like, but I think Josephine’s toes may thank you if you indulge yourself after the lessons.”
Fighting the urge to grimace and silently thanking the gods that her mouth was full of cake Rasha packed two Frilly Cakes on a patch of cloth and exited Vivienne’s room going to her quiet corner on the Battlements. Vivienne knew how to keep Lavellan on edge.
oOo
From distance she could already see the lithe and lissom figure of Solas. He leaned on the battlements looking thoughtful into space.
After Adamant there were some tensions between Solas and Rasha. The heavy sigh from him after recruiting the Wardens had stung. Lavellan could not shake the feeling that he knew more than he let on after hearing the banter between Solas and Blackwall on road to Skyhold. Later that evening she sought him out and they had talked; she very heated, he more aloof than ever with a tint of steel in his voice which she never heard before. Solas questioned her decision and she did not like it because he gave no real explanation. He just hoped she was right and the Wardens were worth the risk.
Getting no real answer out of him frustrated her immensely and she left the Rotunda that evening in a huff.
Next morning, nursing her tea and silently questioning her own decisions, Solas brushed by her side and took down a frilly cake beside her, never saying a word.
“Chuckles must really like you; it’s unusual that he parts with one of his cakes. This must be one of the last before the next delivery comes.”
“Indeed it was. Public, in addition...”
Smiling softly she took up the cake, bit in it and grinned like a fool. All frustrations were forgotten for the moment.
Walking toward Solas she again had to grin, “You look like you could use one of these,” she brought the cloth with frilly cakes out of her pocket. “Admittedly they are a little crushed but I refrained to take one with honey, I figured you had more than enough in the morning.”
Turning with a slight smile on his lips he said softly: “Here I thought you could use the same and brought you these. I heard you have dancing lessons.”
“Yes, in an hour my clumsy attempts of dancing will certainly amuse Vivienne and Josephine’s toes will get a new shade of bruised blue.”
Somewhere in the exchange they had moved towards each other; never leaving each other’s gazes. Lavellan realised she could feel the warmth from Solas’ body, almost touching hers.
They had not been this near since the Fadekiss each of them keeping the bodily contact at minimum but she could have sworn there had been moments that he was watching her, covertly. She in turn had been trying to observe him without noticing.
The air grew heavy and it was difficult for her to breath. Awkwardly she broke eye contact and dipped her finger in one of his cakes lying on the battlement.
Whether she had seen more than just a reflection of her own desires in Solas eyes or not, she would not summon the ego required to believe it. But something had shown in his eyes.
Looking once more over the mountains Solas said: “Maybe we can save Josephine’s toes from getting too crushed. Skyhold saw a fair share of balls in its history. If you wish, we could visit them.”
Slowly swallowing she looked at his profile and cautiously said: “I certainly will be crushed after the dancing lesson.”
Once again looking at her with his storm grey eyes, Lavellan’s ears coloured red as Mother Giselle’s robes.
“I am certain we will find each other. Enjoy your dessert.” Smiling once again Solas took the Cakes from her hand and left her standing thunderstruck.
oOo
The dancing lessons started and ended not well. The strange clenching in her arm intensified as the afternoon wore on, she could still taste the honey core frilly cakes on her tongue, growing more and more empathic with Josie’s toes as she stepped on them absentminded.
Excusing herself softly, she made the promise to continue the lessons with them tomorrow and walked to her bedroom. Rasha felt rather crushed the whole day already filed away for later because there was this matter of Solas.
A storm was literally building around Skyhold she observed as she closed the curtains.
Yawning she took off her shoes, filled her tea pouch and sat on her couch.
“Just a nap. I have to talk to Dorian he owes me at least a bottle of his Tevinter wine.”
oOo
“So... what’s in the bucket and who’s the target?”
“No.”