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“Excuse me, Inquisitor?” a voice said, just barely audible over the chatter of the party.
Lavellan retracted her hand from the door and turned to see Harding looking up at her with a timid half-smile on her face.
“Scout Harding,” Lavellan said in greeting, returning the smile.
“Sorry to bother you,” Harding began, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, “But I was wondering if I could steal a moment of your time.” She worried the inside of her lower lip between her teeth. “I’d… just like to talk to you.” She cast her eyes down as she felt heat rise to her face.
The gentle pressure of Lavellan’s hand on her shoulder pulled her gaze back up to meet the other’s eyes, bright and sincere. “I would love that,” Lavellan said, and then added hopefully, “I was just about to return to my quarters for some quiet, if you’d like to join me?”
She tilted her head slightly towards the door behind her. Harding nodded.
Lavellan pushed the door open and stepped aside with a quiet “after you”, following close behind up the winding staircase. Harding paused when she crested the stairs, in awe of the luxurious room spread out before her. The light of the slowly setting sun streamed in from massive windows, glittering through the flawless stained glass, casting a golden sheen on silken fabrics draped over finely crafted furniture. She had imagined the Inquisitor’s quarters would be nice, but this was like the room of a storybook princess.
A soft laugh from beside her pulled her back to reality. “They really spared no expense. It’s a bit much though, isn’t it?” Lavellan mused.
Harding shook her head. “I think it’s lovely. And the view is beautiful.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Lavellan replied. “Come here. I’ll show you.”
Casually, Lavellan slipped her hand into Harding’s as she passed, leading her towards a balcony. Harding was filled with wonder at how Lavellan could be so smooth, so confident, when she herself felt her heart beating as if it would burst from her chest, her every muscle tense and shaky.
Lavellan leaned against the railing of the balcony, smiling gently over her shoulder. The golden light of the sunset framed her face from one side, her skin glowing and bright. Harding smiled back and tried to ignore the redness she was certain was shining from her face like a beacon.
As she leaned against the railing close beside Lavellan, she idly wished she could have been just a little bit taller, at least tall enough so that she could reach out nonchalantly and touch the tattoos that swirled delicately over her cheekbones. Vallaslin was the proper name, as Harding recalled. She believed the design of Lavellan’s represented… Mythal, the protector? Yeah, that seemed right.
Dorian had been exceedingly helpful when she’d come to the library a few days back, inquiring about books on Dalish Eleven culture. He’d pulled several books from the shelves for her, noting which ones he thought would be the most useful, which had more specialized information, which were likely the most accurate. He never asked, but based on the knowing grin that never left his face and the encouraging pat on the back her gave her as she left, a pile of books held carefully against her chest, she knew that he understood. He’d seen the way Lavellan incessantly flirted with her in the field, after all.
“Are you alright?”
Harding blinked dumbly as she realized she had been staring. “I’m… fine,” she said, confused.
Lavellan laughed. “I just meant to say, you took a pretty hard fall yesterday. You’re not injured?”
“Just a few scratches,” Harding said with a cursory glance at the scape on her elbow. “What about you? You were actually fighting Corypheus up close.”
“I’m fine,” Lavellan replied with a sigh. “I’m just glad the worse of the danger is over, for now.”
“You could use a breather,” Harding said. “We all could.”
Lavellan shifted closer, the length of her body pressing just barely against Harding’s side, a bit of warmth against the chill of the evening air. They stood in confortable silence for a time, watching the sun sink lower behind the snowy mountains.
“Lace,” Lavellan said suddenly, so softly that Harding wondered if she’d really heard it at all. How could Lavellan manage to make her first name sound so pretty and sweet, when she had always thought it sounded so silly when said by anyone else?
“Hm?” Harding’s gaze met Lavellan’s, and she almost gasped with the intensity of it.
“I want to kiss you,” Lavellan said plainly. “Is that alright?”
The blush surged back to Harding’s face, though she kept her eyes on Lavellan as confidently as she could, nodding once. “I would like that,” she replied.
“Good.” Lavellan smiled victoriously, almost comically so, and Harding might have laughed had Lavellan not already leaned in and pressed their lips firmly together. Harding felt her whole body relax into the kiss, warmth spreading from her chest trough her limbs as they pulled closer. She reached a hand up and carefully cupped Lavellan’s face, running the pad of her thumb over the vallaslin on her cheekbone, feeling the slightly raised texture of the intricate curving lines. Lavellan ran a hand down her back, sending a shiver along the curve of her spin, leaving her breathless as she smiled against her lips.
Lavellan pulled back. “It’s getting awfully cold out here. Shall we go in?”
Harding nodded. Boldly, she laced her fingers through Lavellan’s and led her inside. They moved to the bed, leaning back against the headboard while Lavellan buried her face against the juncture of Harding’s neck and shoulder.
“Stay with me tonight?” she murmured, breath impossibly warm against Harding’s skin.
Harding smiled, planting an experimental kiss on the top of Lavellan’s head. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”