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After exposing the Grand Duchess’s plot to the Orlesian court, an action that immediately sent tongues wagging, the Inquisitor had seemingly disappeared from the ballroom. Cullen couldn’t blame her for doing so; he had disliked the whole affair about as much as she had. She just had the ability to hide it better.
He scanned the crowded ballroom, brushing past nobles with many murmured ‘excuse mes,’ wondering where the Inquisitor could have gone. He finally managed to slip out into the foyer and let out a breath, taking a moment to collect himself. If he recalled correctly, she had been making her way towards the gardens…He allowed his feet to carry him through the palace halls, footfall heavy against the polished surfaces, especially the further he wandered from the ballroom. Cullen turned a corner, starting to wonder if he had done nothing more than manage to get himself lost, but stopped when he spied a flash of turquoise out on the balcony dead ahead. His pace quickened and just as he came to the wide double doors, Morrigan passed him.
The two exchanged stiff nods; the last time they had met had hardly been under pleasant circumstances. Once the witch had disappeared out of view, Cullen turned back towards the balcony.
Enansal had her back facing him, partially bowed over the balustrade with shoulders hunched and mask abandoned on the bench at her side. His heart ached for the woman, recognizing that he had caught her in a rare moment where she allowed the persona of the Inquisitor to fall. In that moment, he saw his lover, exhausted and vulnerable. Cullen let out a breath and slowly approached her, practically tasting her nervous energy in the air.
“Nan?”
She jumped a little and turned to face him. “C-Cullen. I apologize for disappearing so suddenly, but I just needed to get out of there. I felt like I was choking. I just needed a moment to myself. Is Josephine looking for me? I’m sure she is. We still need to finalize our–”
“Shhh, love,” he murmured, reaching out to take her hands in his, silencing her rambling. He frowned a little when he felt their chill even through his gloves, and glanced down where Enansal’s hands had been; swirling patterns of frost spread across the stone.
Continuing in a low, even tone, he continued, “You have a few moments, yet. I don’t believe anyone has noticed your disappearance.” As he spoke, his thumbs rubbed soothing circles in the back of her hands, slowly reaching out with the remnants of his Templar abilities to counteract her magic.
Her shoulders slumped and she exhaled, the breath almost shaky. “Th-thank the Ancestors…”
“Will you be alright?”
“Yes, I should be. This evening has simply been…incredibly…”
“Ridiculous?”
She cracked a small smile. “I was going to say ‘stressful,’ but you’re not wrong.” She shifted her weight and moved to wrap her arms around him. “I am glad you were here, though,” she murmured softly.
Cullen felt heat pool in his cheeks as he returned the embrace. After a few moments of silence, he pulled away from her and gave her a bit of an exaggerated bow, extending his hand out to her. “Might I entertain Your Worship with a dance?”
Enansal let out an unladylike snort and slipped her hand into his. He smiled a little and pulled her closer, the two swaying together to the distant strains of the orchestra in the ballroom.
“I thought you didn’t dance?” the Inquisitor teased, breaking the comfortable silence between them.
“For you, I will try,” he murmured.
She glanced up at him, absolute bliss and joy dancing across her freckled countenance. “I never want this to end.”
“I must admit that I’m disinclined to agree with you. I’ve had enough of Orlesian games to last me a lifetime.”
Enansal laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, I don’t mean the ball. I’ve had my fair share of this nonsense, myself.” She closed her eyes and lay her head against his chest, never losing rhythm. “I meant this. Dancing with you. Not having to worry about the Inquisition or the end of the world for a few moments.”
“Ah, I see.” He kissed the top of her head. “Now that is a sentiment I can share.”