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“You really must try the ale cheese soup from Denerim! It’s rich, yes, but certainly worth it.” The count pats his generous belly appreciatively.
“I’m not sure when I’ll be in Denerim next,” Cassandra tries to deflect. “Though I do—”
He cuts her off continuing, “then here in Halamshiral! There’s a fondue that nearly competes, though the production is quite a bit fancier… I think there are secret rules they make up every time. I swear, just when you have it figured out some young lady kisses your cheek!” He laughs a great booming laugh that earns him some dirty looks from the people behind him.
“I think they might be playing a trick on you,” Varric says, inserting himself into the conversation with a wry grin. “You know how well-to-do Orlesians like to keep you on your toes.”
The count looks a bit taken aback as if he hadn’t considered the possibility. “Well I—”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Sounds like you had a great time,” Varric laughs, not unkindly. “Any night a lovely woman grants me a kiss is one to remember.” He winks at Cassandra.
She makes wide eyes at him, willing him to free her from this never-ending torment, and tries not to think too much about lovely women kissing him.
“I suppose—” the count starts.
“Sorry, I must steal the Lady Seeker away from you,” Varric says with that tone that makes everyone feel in on the joke. He holds out a hand to Cassandra with a little bow. “It would be my honor if I could have this dance."
“Of course,” Cassandra says a little too quickly, then nods to the count. “Enjoy your evening.” She takes Varric’s hand out of courtesy and can’t help but feel overwhelming gratitude to be out of that exceedingly dull conversation.
Varric whisks her around the corner and out onto a balcony with lush plants spilling over the railings. The silver moon is a low crescent in the sky and it looks huge, reflecting off the decorative pond in shimmering ripples.
Cassandra sighs out all the frustration from dealing with nobles and assassins all night and leans on the railing, looking out over the shadowed gardens. “I can’t believe how long that count wanted to talk about soup! The sooner we get back to Skyhold, the better.”
“He wasn’t wrong about the soup at the Hanged Man,” Varric says, preemptively raising his hands in surrender. His urge to defend his home turf apparently outweighing his need for self-preservation.
“And just how long did you let him go on before you deigned to rescue me?” Cassandra accuses.
“I didn’t think a lady like yourself needed rescuing,” Varric replies easily.
“You know Lady Seeker isn’t the proper title,” she scolds him with an easy scowl.
He shrugs. “It felt appropriate.” He gathers her hand into his wide palm and tugs her away from the railing.
“What are you doing?” she asks, wary but curious. The rescue earlier was just a courtesy surely.
“You owe me a dance,” he says with a grin.
“After all we’ve been through tonight?” She shakes her head in shock.
“Don’t Seekers dance?” Varric asks innocently, as if he really wants to know.
“Not as a rule,” Cassandra says, but she lets herself be pulled into his orbit, her other hand settling on his broad shoulder.
“Sometimes it’s good to make exceptions. You never know what pleasant surprises might come your way.” He’s not teasing anymore. And he knows his way through the steps, leading her with gentle pressure at her back, spinning them slowly around the balcony.
“I suppose this isn’t terrible,” she concedes. Stars sparkle overhead and the light from the party spills out of the stained glass windows.
“I can work with not terrible.” He grins up at her and maybe it’s the moonlight, but his eyes are warm and his expression is softer than she’s ever seen.
There’s no stopping her smile in reply as she realizes, truly, being asked to dance on a private balcony in the moonlight is far from terrible.