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"Dorian?" Cole breaks the silence he'd let them fall into. He'd gone to Dorian's room, but hadn't asked for anything beyond entrance. It trailed into awkward silence and Dorian returning to his book after assuming the boy was only after company. Now that proves to be incorrect. Cole stands in front of Dorian, hands fidgeting together, picking at a stray string dangling from his abused gloves.
"Yes?"
"How do I be handsome?"
If Dorian had wine he would have likely spat it out. Both fortunate and unfortunate. It's been a long time since Cole asked if he was handsome and Dorian hadn't expected the boy to go any further into the subject.
Cole seems to pick up some of the thoughts and sways on his feet. "It's about the ball." The ball the Empress arranged to celebrate the sucess of the Inquisition and to thank the Inquisitor. The ball that is the reason they're in Val Royeaux. "Revas wants to ask me to go, but is afraid to. I want to go with her, but I don't know how to look handsome." He lets his hands fall to his sides.
Dorian sighs, grasping some understanding of where he was going with this. "And you thought to come to be for fashion advice? I should be offended!" Only half joking.
Cole visibly shrinks into himself. "Sorry... Vivienne doesn't like me so she won't help... I didn't know who else. You say you're handsome so I wanted to be handsome like you. For her."
Dorian laughs. "You don't want to be handsome like me."
"Why not?"
It's a very long discussion.
----
Somehow Dorian convinces Vivienne to help.
"My dear, I am not fond of you, but you have proven to be an ally to the Inquisition." She's taken the day to have Cole cleaned up by her staff, first was a bath while cleaning his clothes, now it's trimming his mop of hair. "I do not approve of your... relationship with the Inquisitor, but she is a dear friend and I consider this a favor for her and not you."
"You're still afraid of me, Vivienne?" Cole looks up at her as his hair is combed out of his eyes. It's more a statement than a question. He knows she's still afraid of him.
"You are a demon, after all." Some of the people hear and glance worryingly at Vivienne. She offers them a placating smile. "Just an expression, darling."
"Will I be able to wear one of those hats?" He points to the small collection of Orlesian style head-wear in the corner.
Vivienne furrows her brows, glances from the hats to Cole and back again as if trying to decide if he's worth one. "If you must."
"I like that one." He wrenches himself forward to point at the one in particular and the person trimming his hair fumbles to avoid an accident.
"Stay still, dear," Vivienne's firm tone makes him sit back into place. She takes a few long strides, heels clacking against the marble flooring, approaching the hats. "Do you mean this one?" She gestures to it.
"No, the one next to it."
It has a large brim, just like the hats Cole usually wears, but the fabric is much finer than the mottled leather of his. Intricate floral embroidery against the forest green of the fabric, with a band of golden trim braided together at the base. Of the collection, it was one of the more simple and unassuming. "That is a women's hat, I'm afraid."
Cole blinks at her. "Why does that matter?"
Vivienne's brows twitch together before she sighs. "I suppose it doesn't."
It is a long afternoon.
---
Revas Lavellan is pacing in the parlor when Vivienne finds her.
"Vivienne! I thought you'd left already," the Inquisitor steps towards her with a smile. Vivienne had made good on her past promise to introduce the Inquisitor to her seamstress and set her up with the fanciful attire for the ball. They had collaborated to design something that satisfied formal attire and the Inquisitor's modest, Dalish fashion sense.
Vivienne offers her a smile in return. "Of course not, dear, arriving fashionable late is the norm here. I am here to present you with your date for this fine evening."
The Inquisitor looks baffled. "Date? But I didn't..." Her eyes widen and mouth goes slack as she sees Cole in the doorway. Fitted and clean clothes, washed and combed hair. He shuffles nervous on his feet, approaching slowing.
"Don't slouch." Vivienne hisses to him as he passes and he straightens up, forces his hands to his sides. The Inquisitor beams and Vivienne smiles, crosses her arms over her chest, proud with her work.
"Did you cut your hair? And where did you get those clothes!" The Inquisitor's smile stretches across her face as she looks him over.
Cole cheeks are noticeably red and he nervously glances around the room, fighting the urge to hunch over and tug at his cuffs. "Vivienne helped."
"Vivienne? Really?" She looks past Cole to the mage. "Did you really...?"
"I did indeed," Vivienne nods her head. "This is a gift for you, darling. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. I will see you at the ball." With that she leaves the two alone.
They barely notice her exit, the Inquisitor too busy taking in Cole's appearance.
She's full of questions, but most of all she asks, "Why?" Cole ducks his head and she quickly adds, "Not that I'm not glad, but..."
"You wanted me to come, but you were afraid to ask. I wanted to be handsome for you, but didn't know how. I asked Dorian, he asked Vivienne. They helped. Vivienne most of all. She didn't want to, but she did anyway."
"I just... I know the Winter Palace was overwhelming for you and I didn't want to put you through that again for my sake... and I know you're still kind of frightened of people being able to see you now and-"
"I wanted to come with you. With so many people it might be scary, but if you're there then I'm safe. I'm happy." A small smile tugs at his lips.
----
The Inquisitor is nearly overrun by people wishing to meet and congratulate her at the ball. She's set up in a corner of the main ballroom, with Cole at her side. She greets those wishing to meet her with a smile and guarded wit that made many question if she was, in fact, Dalish and not a long-time player of the Game. The only thing that belies her mask of calm is the tight, shaking grip she has on Cole's hand throughout the evening.
Between the breaks where she's alone, she sighs and leans against the wall, fatigued. Fatigued more so than after a fight with the toughest of high dragons. For surely the Orlesian nobility and the Great Game are just as deadly, if not more, than the scalding fire and razor sharp teeth and claws of dragons.
She offers Cole apologetic smiles now and then, even if he cannot hear peoples' thoughts as loudly anymore, he must be overwhelmed by the shear number of people, she thinks. But it's not as bad as the Winter Palace for him. He hears their thoughts, yes, but when the Inquisitor laces their fingers together they melt away. Like wisps, floating freely, pestering presence, yet fleeting and flying away when someone pushes through, like a ripple in water startling stillness.
It's a long evening.
She wants to escape. Countless people ask her for a dance and although it's polite to accept, she doesn't want to dance. Not with them anyway. This must be what Cullen feels like, she wonders more than once.
There's a lull in the music where the crowds are all turned towards the orchestra, offering polite applause. The Inquisitor uses the moment to sneak away, pulls Cole along with her and ducks away into the small garden.
The fresh, cool evening air hits them like a rejuvenation spell. There aren't many people there and those that are are couples too engrossed with themselves to bid them mind. She thinks she spots Krem and Harding (definitely Harding) in the corner.
She plops herself unceremoniously on the nearest stone benches, puts her head in her hands and breathes out a frustrated noise. Cole sits next to her without a word.
"I'm sorry, Cole." Her voice muffled by the heels of her hand. "I'm making you stand around with me and-"
"It's okay," he says simply. He lets his hand rise and come to rest on the back of her neck. Calloused fingers brush against the soft skin and feels a shudder pass through her before his fingers trail up and into her hair. The tension visibly drains from her as his fingers comb through her hair gently. She likes having her hair played with and it feels nice between his fingers. "I would say so if it wasn't what I wanted to do."
She's quiet, lets her hands fall away from her face and leans closer to him. She rests her head on his shoulder, side pressed against his. She's warm and comforting and so silent all he can hear is himself and his beating heart. It was always so loud when he was around her.
They're silent for a long while, simply enjoying the air and each others presence and the distant music from the orchestra.
She shifts when the song changes. Looks up at him with a small smile. "Would you like to dance?"
"Yes."
It's a slow song and she leads, guiding Cole through the steps. It's been a while since she taught him to dance, the over-complicated formal dances from the Grande Masquerade that he's still not good at keeping pace with, but she's not leading anything like that. It's simple and mostly like swaying back and forth and Cole thinks that this is the sort of dancing he could do. She's pressed close to him, their bodies keeping the bite of the chill at bay.
Even when the band switches to a faster tune, they stay in their slow dancing. She has her eyes closed and her lips are curled in soft, content smile, like she couldn't be happier anywhere else, and perhaps that is true. It makes Cole's heart leap and his mind is filled with the utterly selfish thoughts and impulses when he looks at her lips. He's used to having more thoughts of his own by now, that it's part of being human and that it's okay to do things for himself, but he's not so used to having them be so overwhelming as if to feel like a need as powerful as his need to help people.
His feet stop moving and he feels suffocated by indecision. She opens her eyes, full on concern, and the smile slips away in worry. He stares at her, notices how big her eyes are, the glittering green and wide pupils, the subtle scare that trailed above and below her left one and it feels like he's actually seeing her for the first time.
She opens her mouth to speak a question floating in the periphery and that's when the impulse wins over.
He kisses her.
Her words trailing off to a surprised yelp muffled in his lips.
It's chaste and simple, lips pressed together with just a little too much force. He's seen it done countless times, in the Spire, in memories, in the hurts and the needs of others, but doing it is completely different and he feels awkward, movements stilted and frozen with fear.
He's pulls away and offers an apology. His lips are damp from hers and the cool air makes the tingling sensation stronger. "I should have asked..."
But she's smiling up at him, cheeks flushed pink. She lets go of his hand and slides her arms around his neck. "It would have been polite," she jests, a laugh fluttering beneath her words and her smile. "But it would have been needless." She tilts her chin up, a silent invitation and challenge.
He's stands awkwardly, unsure of what to do with his hands before they settle lightly on her waist.
He initiates a second kiss. He's still stiff and awkward, mouth closed against hers. She takes the lead, slow movements that he picks up easily and mimics. It doesn't go beyond that, but that alone feels... nice. Her lips are soft and pleasant in how they press against his and make his body practically thrum.
"Andraste's tits!" Sera's voice breaks them apart and they turn to see the majority of the Inquisition's inner circle standing in the doorway to the gardens.
The Inquisitor's cheeks turn bright red. "I-um, we were just..."
Leliana is at the head of the pack, a light smile on her face. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Empress Celene is ready to address the court with you."
"Why is everyone else here?" The Inquisitor eyes the group.
Leliana giggles quietly, a glint in her eye like when she was scheming at the war table. "They wanted to see what you and Cole were up to, of course."
She pulls away from Cole and gives their audience an indignant stare. "I hate all of you."
---
Despite her skill as a spymaster and secret-keeper, Leliana is forthcoming to the Empress about why the Inquisitor is late.
The way the Empress gives the Inquisitor a knowing smile while pardoning her tardiness, makes her want to fold into herself and disappear from the face of the world.
It is a very long evening.