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I.
They clearly hadn’t intended to cause a scene, but honestly, that only made it worse.
Leliana put her head in her hands.
"What did you think was going to happen?" she asked. "That people would take it quietly? That the Orlesian nobility would just say, ‘oh, that’s nice,’ and dance on like it wasn’t important?"
"Of course we did, your Effervescent Holiness!" Varric said, smiling mirthlessly. "You know, we woke up this morning and thought, let’s scandalize all of court and make the Inquisition look bad!"
"Not helping," Leliana replied sharply.
Cassandra sighed.
”No, we didn’t,” Varric said, dropping the act and glaring at Leliana. “No one was supposed to notice. We weren’t doing it for some scandal, you know.”
"Then I can’t imagine what you were doing,” Leliana replied. “Or what you were thinking. How could you take that kind of risk?” She breathed out slowly, trying to calm down. “I am doing my best to support the Inquisition and its causes,” she said slowly. “But the Chantry is not willing to trust so easily, and with my pushes for mage independence, my position is precarious enough as it is.”
"I didn’t know defending the Inquisition’s causes meant pulling aside its ambassadors to scold them like small children," Cassandra murmured.
Sometimes, Leliana appreciated that Cassandra’s tongue had gotten sharper with Varric’s influence, but this was not one of those times.
"Perhaps it does when they’re acting like children," Leliana replied, "or at least a pair of adolescents with no sense of consequences."
"Consequences?" Varric said in disbelief. "You think we don’t understand consequences?"
"You know how the damn Game works, Varric, act like it! I guarantee that before the day’s over, word will reach as far as Nevarra that its seventy-eighth candidate for the throne will be sullying the Pentaghast line with a dwarf, and you’ll be the ones seeing the results of it.”
Cassandra rose to her feet, snapping from somewhat bored and sullen to anger in a flash. “You cross a line, Most Holy,” she said quietly.
"I’m not saying that’s what I think," Leliana backtracked. "And it’s not. But that’s going to be the words on everyone’s lips. How could you let this happen?"
"I know that’s not what you think,” Cassandra replied.
"Then what?"
Cassandra opened her mouth, but closed it again, furious, but unable to speak.
"She means, Nightingale, that we know.”
Something tired in Varric’s voice made Leliana pause and give him her attention. He wasn’t sarcastic, he was sincere, looking her dead in the eyes.
"We’ve thought of it every damn day since we first kissed," he said quietly. "They’ve always said, oh, they fight too much, it’s not going to happen. Or, she’s royalty, he's casteless. They’re a fling. An affair. A joke. And you look at us and you tell us don’t understand consequences?"
Leliana felt the breath go out of her like she’d been punched.
Cassandra continued, “We wanted to hold hands. Just because we felt like it. It is unfortunate that somebody spotted it and decided to make a spectacle, but I will not regret this. Any of this.”
"And, you know, maybe we wanted to be caught," Varric said lazily. "Got a little tired of sneaking around anywhere that wasn’t Skyhold. So, you know? Damn the consequences. I don’t think we wanted it to happen like this, but Victoria, you’ve gotta get off your high horse."
Leliana swallowed her pride and hung her head. ”I… I didn’t think,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure what else she could say, but Cassandra put a hand on her shoulder.
"You meant well," she said firmly. "I know you only want to help us, to help the Inquisition, but we need you helping us with damage control, not… this."
"I’ve gone and let it get to me, haven’t I?" Leliana asked. "Sometimes I wonder if I’m fit for this position."
Cassandra smiled. “And the alternative would be who, me? I think you’ve accomplished more with mages than I would have been able to - more than I would have dared, for fear of stepping on toes which you’ve pacified well. With all due respect, Most Holy, I think you were chosen well.”
"You just, you know, need to lighten up a little," Varric contributed, smiling a little. "Take a break from the whole Divine business once in a while. In private company, of course."
"You two have such faith in me, even after I just yelled at you two," Leliana remarked. "I suppose I should strive to have some, as well." She sighed. "Go on. Get back out there; I’ll follow you in a moment. Scandalize the court to your heart’s content. If they ask me about your relationship, I’m going to deny everything while making it obvious that I know everything about it, just to make them all mad."
Varric laughed. “Oh, we can work with that.”
“No, Varric,” Cassandra said sternly as they turned around.
"What, not even a-"
"Not. One."
"But these nobles are so prissy, all it’d take-"
"No."
They held hands as they left the room, and as for what Varric was jokingly planning, Leliana hoped she would never see it come to fruition.
II.
A passing soldier had told Cullen that Cassandra was up on the southern ramparts, but in retrospect, maybe he should have asked for a little more information. She was on the ramparts, as reported, but she wasn’t alone, and there was a large bubble around her and her companion, a space where all the soldiers were avoiding her.
And her companion was Varric.
At first, Cullen didn’t see what they were doing, but he heard angry voices as he approached and it caused him to slow down in caution. Looking ahead, he could see the two of them facing the outward wall, though their heads were turned toward each other.
He came closer and the words began to make a little more sense.
"-know my stories," Varric said. "The Hero went to the Lake Calenhad before the she got the elves’ help. What, you think the Circle would have agreed to help her if they knew she sympathized with those apostates?”
"No, they got the elves after," Cassandra argued. "Leliana told me that, Varric. Elves, Mages, Dwarves, Redcliffe, Landsmeet, I’m certain that’s how she ordered it. She’s about as good a source as you can possibly get.”
"You’re completely mixing it up! It doesn’t even make sense that way!"
Cullen couldn’t quite believe his ears. They were fighting almost as badly as they had done back well before Haven fell, over this? A major spat over something as little as… a story?
Walking up to them, he caught sight of their hands finally. Amidst their shouting, they were holding each other’s hands on top of the railing, and the sight was still and peaceful as could be.
And they were still shouting.
And holding hands.
What?
How…?
Varric finally caught sight of him staring at them, open-mouthed.
"Curly, get over here!" he ordered. "Tell Cassandra she’s wrong and the Hero of Ferelden went to get the mages’ help first."
"They did not,” Cassandra insisted. “I’m telling you-“
"You’re both wrong," Cullen interrupted. "Or both right. I don’t care. She went to the Dalish first and helped them out a little, but she didn’t immediately cement the alliance until after she’d left, recruited the mages, and come back again. The stories often get confused by that. Leliana probably listed off the order they visited each location, not the order of the treaties."
Varric and Cassandra blinked at him.
"Do you two always do that? Argue enough to scare half our infantry while still - never mind, I don’t want to know." Cullen waved a hand at them. "Cassandra, come by my office later. No rush."
He made a very, very swift exit, still bewildered, but overheard a last few snippets.
"Oh, yeah. Forgot Curly was involved in all that, too."
"Tactful, Varric."
"What, like it didn’t also slip your-"
"I’m not the one who called him over and-"
III.
"Come on, Seeker, who’s gonna know? The snoufleurs?"
"Me," she said. "I’m not going to shirk responsibility-"
"Responsibility to who? The town will survive without us for a little while, and you know the Inquisitor and Vivienne had that under control."
Cassandra turned an annoyed noise into a sigh at the last second. “Fine, but I refuse to be gone for longer than an hour.”
"That’s the spirit!"
He led her down to the river, taking a small path through the trees in the direction of Elfsblood Tower. The path was hidden under many bare, spindly branches. There was no way Varric could have seen this path just now. He had known it was here.
"You planned this," she accused.
"Oh, yeah," he said, "from the moment she announced we were headed back to Emprise."
"You could have warned me."
"And miss the righteous indignation when I said we were going to skip town and play hooky? Not for all the Marches."
Cassandra opted not to reply, scowling. “Fine. What is your brilliant plan?”
"I got the idea last time we were here," he said. "You weren’t there, so you wouldn’t know, but there were two rifts on this river giving the villagers constant grief. We closed them up, but not without falling on our asses a few times."
"Falling? How?"
Varric turned his head back to her and grinned. “We were on the river, Seeker. The frozen river.”
Suddenly she understood. “Varric Tethras, are you taking me ice skating?”
"Well, we don’t have the little blades Merrill showed me, and I’ve really only done it once, that time it was really cold in Kirkwall and she used a bit of-"
"You’re taking me ice skating?”
-
Vivienne came looking for them a little while later, but she heard them before she saw them.
"You ready?"
"Past the snoufleur’s snout this time, Varric, not its tail.”
"Yeah, yeah. Three, two, one… Go!"
Vivienne peeked around a few trees just in time to see them take off, hand-in-hand, running as fast as they could manage down the ice. They ran and ran and they ran, and then, when they passed one of the animals on the river, they both stopped running, skidding across the ice on their boots.
They went several feet without falling, and then Cassandra wobbled and fell back. Varric tumbled down with her, on top of her. Cassandra glared at Varric for a moment, then started laughing as he rolled off her. They were still holding hands.
"I think," Cassandra said between laughs, "I think it worked better when we tried it separately."
"But this is way more fun!”
"I’m not sure-" she began, but he cut her off with a hand on her chin and a swift kiss. And then they went back to laughing.
Amused, Vivienne went out on to the ice to retrieve them. It might have been the most precious thing she’d ever seen. Such a shame that if she told the story, nobody would believe her.
IV.
Josephine skipped half the stairs on her way to the top of the smithy and started reading a letter. “Cassandra,” she began, “the Arl of Highever has requested that -“
She looked up and cut herself off.
They were in a couple of chairs right up next to each other, and they were both completely, utterly, thoroughly asleep. Cassandra’s head had fallen on top of Varric’s. Varric was half-curled into her shoulder, one of his books propped up in one hand, still open against his knee. In the other hand, he held Cassandra’s hand loosely, though something told Josephine that his grip would tighten if anybody tried to interfere with it.
Oh, my.
Amazed, Josephine covered her mouth before she could make a sound (though somehow they could sleep with the smith’s hammers banging every few minutes, and perhaps she need not have bothered). Gingerly, she approached Cassandra’s favorite table and left the letter lying neatly on top.
She managed to keep it together until she left the smithy, and then she started giggling.
Yes, Josephine had thought they might make a good couple when they announced that they were dating, but Andraste, she’d never imagined they would be a cute couple, too.
Some, she knew, were still a little incredulous. Some thought it was a big prank, or some lie. Well, Josephine dared them to believe any such thing after seeing something like that.
That image of them, sleeping and curled up together around a terrible book, stuck with her and made her smile at odd hours for the rest of the day.
It was a cheering thought to know her friends were happy, against every odd.
V.
There was something a little exciting about it, even if it was about the least daring show of non-exhibitionism ever.
It had started a few weeks ago, when Varric had gotten bored during a very unexciting story told by Blackwall during the weekly Wicked Grace game. The man had a certain grandeur, and had gained a bit of foolhardy respect from Varric once he’d, ahem, revealed a bit more about his origins, but Varric swore he could make an entire audience of perverts fall asleep while listening to a story about a bard determined to “get information” out of the entire Antivan royal house. At once.
So he nudged Cassandra’s foot across the table. Just a little.
She glared at him, maybe thinking he was trying to distract her during this hand, or something. But he stayed put, planting his foot down by hers.
Eventually she figured out he wasn’t trying to sabotage her game. Every so often they kicked each other, sometimes when one of them had just scored a hand on the other, playfully.
The next week, she sat next to him. He wasn’t sure what she was playing at, but he let it go with little more than a raised eyebrow. He might have had some words for her, were they not in the company of others and still keeping things a little on the down-low.
She looked at him sidelong and gave him a rare, slightly mischievous smile.
Well, okay, then.
He was still getting used to that one.
Of course, it turned out that what she had in mind was a little less risky than what he had been half-picturing, but… It was nice.
Sitting there, knocking their knees now and then. She hooked her foot around his at one point, not anything sexual just… intimate. Comfortable. Nice.
And Andraste help him, he was hung up on her. Just sitting by her, playing cards with all their friends (and Cassandra losing almost every round), it left something warm in the pit of his stomach. Like his own little bubble of peaceful bliss.
At some point, if they got that far, everybody would know, but they weren’t there yet. It’d only been a month and every step still felt like they might be trying to walk on glass. But for the moment, knowing they could have little moments like this, right under everyone’s noses, was a little bit of a dream come true.
Then, today. They sat at a pair of seats on one of the table’s corners this time.
"So," Josephine said, "Any interesting news to share, anyone?"
"I’ve got some," Cullen said. "I’m going to beat you this time."
"You always say that," Dorian replied, "and you always end up going home starkers off a poorly thought-out bet."
"That was one time-“
"Let it go, Dorian," Cassandra said, glancing through her cards. "We losers have enough trouble without your teasing."
"And now Cassandra’s grouping me together with her," Cullen groaned. He sat down in his chair, slumping and scowling at the table. "Great."
”You’re getting better,” Cole said, encouraging him. “She thought you were lying but she only got lucky that her hand was better.”
"Give it up, Kid," Varric advised, sliding the cards Josephine had dealt closer to him. "You’re only gonna make Curly feel worse."
The Iron Bull laughed. “No, keep going! It’s demoralizing, and I could use the coin!”
The banter continued that way for a while, with all of them slipping into now-familiar roles. Varric was glad he’d invited Cassandra that first time, so long ago. He hadn’t been sure, not completely, but he thought the Inquisitor might want her there, and, well…
Well, he’d been in denial for longer than he liked to admit.
It was halfway through the first game when anything happened; Varric had almost forgotten the little trick of theirs that was slowly becoming some kind of tradition.
He was sneaking a peek at his cards and put his hand below the table, and when he did, Cassandra caught it.
Varric thought she might do something with his hand, though he didn’t know what. Declare a thumb war? No, probably not. But she just kept his hand.
It actually look another round of bets before he realized what she was doing. Just… holding his hand. Softly, warmly. No expectations. Just companionship.
His heart did a little flip and he was so, so glad that nobody was looking their way at the moment, because he was not prepared for this. He felt like if he opened his mouth his tongue would be tied in the same knot as his stomach.
Maker take him.
With a slow, deep breath, he let himself uncurl, relax. He held her hand back. Whoever said smooth hands were attractive was a damn liar; both their hands were calloused and scarred, and the rough texture of his hand shifting against hers just made it feel like they fit together, even better than he’d expected.
Varric decided that night, for the very first time, that he really liked holding hands.
They spent most of the game that way, with their entwined hands tucked underneath the table. At one point, Josephine glanced at him accusingly. “Are you cheating?” she asked.
He lifted both his hands in surrender. “I would never!”
"You would," Cassandra said. She didn’t even bother looking at him. "Just not here. You know Josephine would catch you.”
"She’s got you there," Dorian said, elbowing him cheerfully. "She’s better than you and you know it."
"Put a sock in it, Sparkler."
And then they put their hands back together again, and kept them there, every so often rubbing their thumbs against each other’s palms or rethreading their fingers.
It was, without a doubt, the coziest night of Varric’s life so far. And damn if that “so far” didn’t make him shiver to his toes.
The idea that they could have this, that they could maybe, just maybe, have this for the rest of their lives, was a thought he couldn’t think. It was so many levels of impossible and unlikely and wrong. Varric took that daydream, that hazy, wishful, perfect future with her, and shoved it in a dark, distant box where it would never see the light of day.
He let himself bask in the present. Let the future come when it may. Right now, he was here, secretly holding Cassandra’s hand under the table, and it was amazing.
They thought nobody had noticed. At the end, Cullen had lost (again, though they hadn’t played for clothes), Cassandra had folded long ago, and Josephine won. Everything was right in the world. People dispersed, went their separate ways. The Inquisitor left with Josephine, quietly hanging off her shoulder. So it goes.
"Varric?" Cassandra asked.
"Yeah, we’ll catch up later," he replied, which was their current established code for "I’m going to make out with you in about 15 minutes," or something to that effect.
She smiled as she left.
Yep, everything was definitely right in the world.
Then Cole tapped his shoulder, making Varric jump. Damn, how long had the kid been standing there?
"Dorian almost saw," Cole said, "Maybe, if you want people to not know, you should do that not here. But, it was sweet. She thinks you’re sweet, all the time."
Varric felt his face growing a little red.
Well… Damn.