Break Time Writings

Neria faltered. He seemed earnest enough, but Neria hesitated.

“This will give people certain ideas, Cullen.” She cautioned. “You’ll likely have to dance with me every day of this…”

“You helped me with the room.” He reasoned. “Besides, you owe me an explanation about your dog.”

Neria giggled. “Was that…sass, Commander? I didn’t know you could sass.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, but then Neria’s hand slipped into his and he seemed to relax. They began moving to the dance floor, taking a spot rather easily. His hand was rather stiff as he moved it to her waist. Neria wondered if he was rubbed raw by all this as she was. Memories and old habits and too many conflicting feelings bubbling to the surface.

They were different now. Equals. She was the Hero of Fereldan. She had to remember that.

“I owe you for this.” Neria said. “Can you dance at all? I don’t imagine you’ve gotten very many opportunities.”

“I’ll manage.”

There was a pause in the music, and then another, more bouncy melody began. Neria stepped a second before Cullen. There was a fumbling of feet, but soon enough they were stepping in perfect rhythm to the waltz.

“So, about your Mabari…”

Neria groaned as she stepped away from him briefly, and then back together. “Fine…You know of the Ash Warriors yes?” Cullen nodded. “Well, there was a group of them in Ostagar. He was a sick dog, and I got the herb that saved him. I was able to keep him calm and under control, and they suggested imprinting him to me. So, naturally, I asked about names..”

The melody dipped down, and Cullen’s ears turned pink as he twirled her away and then pulled her back perhaps too close.

“So Cullen was already his name.” He surmised.

Neria looked rather sheepish. “Well…Not exactly. As it turns out, the Ash Warriors are awfully superstitious. Mabari can learn new names from a new owner. According to them, it is bad luck to keep an old name, and it’s best to name the dogs after something familiar. Something about the Mabari feeding off your feelings and such. Such as a fallen comrade or friend. And everything with Jowan and the Circle was a tad…fresh. Your name was just what came to mind.”

“And it was better than Barkspawn?”

“Exactly.”

Cullen chuckled. “I didn’t know names were so important.”

“I didn’t either.” Neria admitted. Once again there was a twirl. She noted that she didn’t even have to think about her steps with the dance anymore as they glided across the floor. “Apologies if you were expecting something more grand.”

“Not at all. I believe I know a dwarf that might be interested in the story.”

“Oh Maker, is the next thing he’ll write about me?” 

“I think he’s working on something to do with the Inquisition, actually.”

“That will have a much better ending.” Cullen chuckled at that. He looked lighter. Younger. Neria’s chest swelled with pride for a moment, before a nagging unease set in again. They shifted on the dance floor as the song wound into its final steps. “You’re…alright, aren’t you?”

Cullen quirked a brow at her “Yes. I am. Why?”

She paused. “This will have people talking, Cullen. You know that.”

“We’re starting a clean slate, Neria. Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“Right, yes. Clean slate while sharing a room at a brothel, and giving all of the Noble Court the notion that we have eyes for each other.” She laughed when he winced. A pang of guilt ran through her. It was not lost on her that he was trying. “I’m not unhappy about it, Cullen. I just want to understand. Make sure you’re not pushing yourself.”

“I didn’t think before I asked you do dance. I didn’t know that it would matter to you, considering...Does it? Matter to you?”

Slowly, the tune of the waltz faded. She and Cullen bowed to each other. Was he always so handsome? She cleared her throat as the music for the second dance began, and the dance floor shifted. Cullen offered her his arm to lead her away, and Neria found, oddly, when she heard the ring of Anora’s laughter, joined shortly by Alistair’s, there was no pain. No bitterness. No hurt.

“No.” She finally answered. Cullen raised a brow. “It doesn’t matter to me. Let them think what they want. We’re trying to be friends again. That’s all that matters.”

He seemed to relax at that, and she smiled. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of puffy sleeves. A very worried looking Josephine stood beside a concerned Thom. 

“I think Lay Montilliet is in need of you.”

Neria nodded behind him, and Cullen turned with a sigh. “Yes I am sure I will get a scolding. Keep me updated on things.”

“Will do, Commander.”

With another polite nod to each other, Cullen was turning towards Josephine, who looked as though she was holding herself back from rushing over and throttling him. No doubt Cullen would play dumb, and things would work themselves out. When Neria turned back to the dance floor, she caught sight of Anora, who’s gaze held approval and something Neria didn’t catch. Alistair was staring as well, but she didn’t have time to catch his gaze before Vivienne was approaching again.

“Well now. That surprised us all..”

Neria rolled her eyes. “It was only a dance, Enchanter.”

“A first dance at a Fereldan Ball. With a Templar.”

“He is Commander of the Inquisition now, not a Templar.” Neria cleared her throat. Her tone was perhaps too disapproving, and she did not miss the way Vivienne’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And an old friend. He was suitable.”

Vivienne hummed. Across the dance floor, Cullen was scratching the back of his neck as Josephine spoke perhaps a little too quickly. The Inquisitor was soon laughing, no doubt learning the implications of it all from her ambassador. Her gaze swept around the room. A few nobles were already looking between them and whispering. Now that the first dance was over, servants were beginning to make rounds with refreshments and drinks. She noticed even a few of them were gossiping as the nobles. Sweet Maker word would be to Orlais by nightfall.

“Well. Regardless, I approve.” Vivienne stated. 

A servant approached with drinks, and Vivienne retrieved one for both of them. Neria blinked as she took it.

“What?”

“I approve, my dear.” Vivienne repeated. “Of you and our dear Commander.”

“I told you it was only a dance.” The look in the Enchanter’s eye told Neria that she didn’t believe her. “If anything it was a ploy to keep other less desirable suitors away.”

“Whatever you say, my dear.” Vivienne gave her a grin. “A pity, though. I believe the two of you would be good for each other.”

With those parting words and a polite nod, Vivienne was stepping away to mingle effortlessly with another group of nobles from Orlais. Neria blinked, struck suddenly by it all. She had admired Cullen back during her days in the Circle. But she had written them off as the fancies of a naïve girl. Had written things off completely after the Circle fell. They were becoming friends again, which was more than she ad dared hope for. She hadn’t at all considered…

Her eyes met Cullen’s from across the room, and suddenly her chest throbbed. A familiar flutter in her chest that only one other had elicited outside of the Circle tower. Her cheeks burned as she turned away, only to find Teagan behind her.

“She’s right, you know.” Teagan said, nodding to Vivienne. Andraste’s knickers had he heard all of that? Neria watched with some form of horror as Teagan looked between Cullen and Alistair, his head tilting as he seemed to examine the commander. “He does seem to be your type.”

Neria sputtered for a moment, unsure of how exactly to respond. She could feel the blush creep up her pointed ears. Her free fist bunched in her skirts as she hid her embarrassment behind a perhaps too-fast drink of the sweet wine in her hands. She was the damn hero of Fereldan, slayer of the Archdemon. Why was she getting flustered over a dance and a few misdirected words? She cleared her throat. She had other, more important, things to worry about than the long buried crush for a man she was on shaky ground with at best.

She was surprised she was able to keep her voice level. “Teagan please don’t tease like that.”

Anora did give a giggle at that. It was relieving to see he seemed to have changed little, and certainly still had his sense of humor.

Dinner ended with little fanfare, giving way to another bit of mingling before the true festivities of the ball began. Cullen found himself against a wall, completely out of place. He had rebuffed another noble lady’s offer to dance for the tenth time that night when a dog trotted into the room. A grey Mabari with a rather posh collar. It was a large beast, his fur marred with faint scars, but the grey around his muzzle gave away his age. Cullen blinked as it seemed to trot to his spot on the wall, sniffing at his boots.

“Ah. Taken your spot, have I?” Cullen asked. The dog looked up at him, giving a gruff bark. “My apologies.”

Cullen took a step to the side, making room for the Mabari to sit where he just was.

“And who do you belong to?” Cullen asked. He felt rather ridiculous speaking to a dog, but he was likely a much better conversationalist than any noble there. “King Alistair?” The dog gave a snort. It felt disapproving. “I guess that was the wrong guess.”

The dog looked up at him for a moment, but then his eyes wandered to the other nobles around. The Orlesians seemed to give him a wide space, but a few brave Fereldans ventured to give him a customary pat on the head. He didn’t seem to mind.

“Your owner trained you well, eh? You don’t even flinch at all the strangers.”

The dog’s ears perked suddenly, and he looked a completely different direction. He stood, trotting with little care away from Cullen and down a corridor that led away from the ballroom and further into the castle.

Cullen frowned. That was…odd. The Mabari seemed keen to wait in their spot, looking at every passerby. Was he waiting for someone? And where was he going now? He glanced around the corridor that people had congregated in. The Inquisition seemed occupied with mingling. Surely no one would mind if he slipped away.

With another quick look to ensure no one seemed as if they would be needing him, he turned and followed the Mabari. The dog gave him a glance as he turned down the corridor he had, though seemed unperturbed as he turned again to descend some stairs. Cullen followed. Surely the dog must belong to someone in the castle, lest they both get hopelessly lost. Voices floated to him as they came to the bottom of the stairs and another corridor. It seemed like this was where servants quarters would be?

“And how did you get in here again?” Was that Neria?

“I told you my dear Warden, I was invited.” An Antivan accent answered.

“Invited, of course. Next you’re going to tell me that Alistair invited Sten and Shale too.”

Leliana’s voice he recognized. “I believe Sten declined coming, and Shale was insulted that he invited her with a carrier pidgeon.”

Neria laughed. A right and proper one that echoed a high melody off the stone walls. “That sounds like it would have been hilarious to see.”

The Mabari barked suddenly, his tail wagging happily. He took off, rounding the corner so fast he nearly slid into the wall. There was a startled shriek from Leliana.

“Easy with the paws boy, you know my dress is white now.”

Neria’s voice sounded again, so jovial that Cullen almost didn’t recognize it. “Cullen! There you are! Look at you! You gained weight. Is Anora sneaking you table scraps again?”

The Commander froze for a moment. Was that his name? Another happy bark from the Mabari. Then a loud crash and a cry of pain from the unfamiliar Antivan voice. Cullen rushed forward, afraid something had happened. As he rounded the corner he found Leliana and Neria shoulder-to-shoulder, laughing as an elven man struggled under the Mabari, who seemed to have pinned him down.

“Yes yes you win! You win!” He cried. The Mabari relented. And soon the man was tossing him a small crunchy treat. The dog caught it effortlessly, his tail wagging. “You only won because I was called. Next time, my hiding place will be flawless!”

“Good boy, Cullen!” Neria kneeled, seemingly uncaring that her white skirt was on the floor and a large dog was jumping at her with delight. “Catching that sneaky Crow! That’s my good—”

“Ah. Commander.”

Cullen had thought he’d sneak away, but Leliana had spotted him. He had a feeling she knew he was there the whole time.

“Your Worship.” He greeted. “I uh, didn’t mean to intrude. I was following…Well I was concerned about…”

He couldn’t find the words. He suddenly felt like an absolute fool, following a dog around an unfamiliar palace for…what? Out of curiosity? Because he liked Mabari perhaps too much?

Cullen, the Mabari, gave a happy bark, trotting over to sit by the Commander, not unlike how they had been sitting in the corridor of the party minutes ago. Neria’s eyebrows raised, looking between the two of them for a moment before standing.

“Maker you are so Fereldan.” She turned to Leliana. “Zeveran and I can take it from here.”

“Very well.” She said. “Keep me informed. What should I…Should we inform Alistair and Anora?”

Neria frowned. Cullen didn’t like the way her brows drew into a like of worry. It was odd to see Leliana defer to anyone so completely. Even with the Inquisitor there was an edge between them. She guided and advised, but always seemed to keep Lavellan at arm’s length. As if she didn’t fully trust her. With Neria, however, it simply felt different, but familiar. Complete and utter trust of allies that had been through hardship together. Sisters united for a common cause.

His gut had been correct. Something was wrong.

“Tell Alistair that I’ll be working while I’m here. Don’t mention anything to Anora, though. She has enough to worry about. Let her enjoy herself.”

Leliana nodded. “The dancing will be soon.”

Neria gave a groan and a wave. “Yes, yes I’ll be there soon. Maker, I wore the wrong shoes for this…”

“You certainly did. We can remedy that tomorrow.”

Neria gave a sincere smile to Leliana. The Divine turned to leave, giving Cullen and the Mabari both a polite nod as she left.

“Alright.” Neria was turning away from them both soon enough. “Have you got the map, Zev?”

The elf grinned, producing a piece of parchment. Neria looked at something on the wall Cullen couldn’t make out, and then marked something on the parchment.

“That’s…odd. The placement is all wrong if they’re wanting this to be a summoning.”

“Perhaps we have not found them all.” Zeveran decided.

“I hate to ask you to work while there are supposed to be festivities.” Neria said.

“No need, my dear.” Zeveran rolled the parchment back up to stow it in his vest. He gave her a bow, making a show of kissing her hand. “You know I love to serve.”

Neria laughed again. That was more than Cullen had hard her laugh since…His mind ventured to the Circle and her days with Anders and Jowan. Still, she was lighter.

“Still, I won’t make you do this alone.”

She whistled sharply, and suddenly the Mabari at his side went rigid. He stood,  immediately trotting over to Neria. It was impressive, how quickly the beast went from lovable pet to working animal.

“Track. Help Zeveran.” She pointed to something on the wall, which the dog sniffed at eagerly.

Zeveran grinned. “Another contest then.”

The Mabari barked happily at Neria, and with a loving pat on the head and scratch behind the ears, he and Zeveran, the elf, were off. Zeveran seemed to all but disappear as the dog padded down the hallway, moving incredibly silent for a dog his size.

Neria sighed as they disappeared, finally turning to him. “We’re trying to keep this hidden for right now.” She said, “So I’d appreciate it if you kept this from the Inquisition until we have more information. We’re not trying to cause panic.”

Cullen frowned. “Keep what from them?”

Neria gestured to the spot on the wall before her. Cullen moved closer, and his eyes widened. Painted onto the stone of the wall was a circular symbol with a few runic symbols around. It was red, dripping in a few places. His gut churned at what exactly had been used to paint it. He knew a summoning circle when he saw it.

“Blood magic.” The words were bitter on his tongue.

“You’d think so.” Neria said, reaching out to run her finger along one of the runes. “But I don’t feel any magic.”

Cullen blinked. “What?”

“The reason blood magic is usually used for summoning isn’t just because of the way it weakens the veil.” Neria said. “It’s because you can trigger it from a distance. You don’t have to charge the runes with your magic and then cast the summoning spell. The blood IS the magic, so you don’t have to charge it. As long as you’re within range, it will trigger.”

“It’s a little unsettling how much you know.” Cullen commented.

“Yes well. You learn a lot about Blood Magic during a trip to Tevinter.” Neria shrugged. “What I don’t understand is why there is no magic. If it were blood magic there would be something. This is the second one like this. They haven’t charged it either, which means either this one has been used already or this wasn’t done by a mage.”

Cullen’s brows furrowed. “Why would someone who isn’t a mage draw a summoning circle for blood magic?”

“I don’t know.” Neria admitted, then gave him a grin. “A fun mystery, right? Zeveran and Cul—” She stuttered for a moment, clearing her throat to mask it. “My Mabari will find anything else, and we’ll get more answers. Until then, we act like nothing is wrong.”

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Right. No blood mages possibly summoning in mass.” He groused. “And we shouldn’t tell anyone that would be a disaster.”

“Exactly.”

Cullen frowned. He didn’t like that. It wasn’t enough. Already his mind was racing. Guards were needed for security. They could use their scouts to ensure the perimeter was safe. Perhaps a few Templars could be used to ensure there was no errant magic. But then he remembered the merriment of dinner. The smiles of those mingling in groups. The laughter that was a near-constant sound from the festivities in the Market. Chaos would be a disaster for not only the event, but the morale of the people of Fereldan, so fresh from a Blight, rebellion, war, and disaster from the sky.

His thoughts were interrupted by a spark that flew from Neria’s hand. It collided with the symbol, putting a dent in the stone. The summoning circle was ruined, and unable to be used. There was little comfort in that.

“Alright. If I’m late for the dancing after not being at dinner, Anora will have my head.” She straightened her skirt and vest, turning to walk back the way he’d followed her dog. Her heels clicked against the stone. After a pause, she turned to him, “Are you coming?”

He had to admit, he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay and examine the symbol. Hunt for more. Ensure there was no threat. Yet, somehow, when Neria tilted her head at him, he found that he trusted her judgement. Perhaps just because he didn’t see another course of action.

“Yes. I am.” He said, moving to trail behind her.

They walked in relative silence, climbing the stairs, only the sound of footsteps echoing off stone. Until a question came to his mind.

“Did you name your Mabari after me?”

Neria seemed to falter in her steps, nearly tripping over her own feet. “It’s a common name.”

Cullen rolled his eyes, finding himself chuckle. “Of course.”

“It’s very Fereldan. And Alistair wanted to call him Barkspawn!”

At that, Cullen did laugh. “Not exactly the best.”

“It was better than Morrigan’s idea. Dog.”

“The lesser of three evils, then.”

“Exactly.” Neria agreed. “Just that.”

He didn’t believe her, but then they were emerging once again into the corridor with mingling nobles and refreshments. Neria was intercepted by someone wearing formal mage robes, and she happily accepted a drink from them. Cullen moved back to the spot he was standing in before the Mabari met him. A spot for Cullens, he mused as he politely gave a nod to a Fereldan Noble who passed.

Cullen’s cheeks were red. Neria blinked. She didn’t realize how close she had gotten until now. They were nearly chest to chest, nothing but a breath between them. The elven woman cleared her throat, taking a step back.

“Come on. The carriage should be here…”

Cullen blinked. “A carriage?”

“Well I’m not walking the back streets of Denerim in my finest.”

Cullen raised a brow. Neria had a feeling he had half-expected walking the back streets of Denerim in their finest to be the plan, but Neria didn’t fancy getting mugged halfway there. She knew crime in Denerim had improved, but two finely-dressed individuals still made for prime targets. When they stepped onto the balcony, a small carriage waited for them at the back entrance.

“I thought it was just you.” The young man driving the carriage called to Neria as she and Cullen descended the balcony to the street behind the Pearl.

“Sorry, Connor. Change of plan.” She gave him an apologetic smile. “Seems I’ll have an escort after all.”

“Uncle Teagan will be disappointed.” His eyes widened when he realized who Cullen was. Neria should have known the Commander of the Inquisition should have been recognizable. “That’s…!”

“An old friend.” Neria said casually. 

“At the Pearl?!”

“Don’t worry.”

The boy, Connor, sighed in defeat. “Always a surprise with you, Auntie Neria.”

Neria only smiled at the boy, reaching up to squeeze his hand. Connor gave her a smile as he squeezed back, and that made her feel infinitely lighter. Cullen opened the door to the carriage, offering a hand to help her climb into the cramped space. The carriage was barely big enough for the two of them, and as they sat across from each other, their knees touched. Neria tried to ignore the odd way it felt so casually intimate. She’d never had any problem being tactile with…anyone before. It used to drive Anders and Jowan insane. Was this just because it was Cullen? Because of what he used to be?

Soon enough, the carriage began to move, swaying softly as the horse pulled them along. Neria tried, again, to stop herself from reading the Commander. She focused on the crisp evening air. Th view of the setting sun as it disappeared here and there behind buildings as they rode. Cullen ‘s eyes were squarely out the window as the lights of the market and palace drew near, but they were soon flickering to Neria, and above her to the small window that gave view of the driver.

“He’s Lord Eamon’s son.” Neria explained before Cullen could ask. “He’s a mage. Had a brush with a nasty demon during the Blight. He’s been a little…lost since the Circles got disbanded.”

Lost was an understatement. She was well aware that Connor blamed himself for all that happened at Redcliffe. All the lives lost. The Desire Demon poisoning his mother and uncle. She understood that all too well, but she couldn’t let the boy carry such a burden.

Cullen nodded, though had a distinct look of pity in his eye. “He’s young.”

“Too young.” Neria agreed, attempting to give an optimistic smile. “But he’s a bright young man. He’s doing well.”

He nodded. The carriage turned, bumping against the cobblestone roads. Their legs pressed against each other now as they both seemed to relax on the ride.

“You’ve been helping him?” Cullen asked.

She blinked at him. “Of course. He was terrified as a boy. I helped him control his magic. Irving and I both took him to the Circle when it was time. I helped him settle in. When they were disbanded I visited Redcliffe as much as I could.” She paused. “I know what being accosted by a demon is like. Besides, I’m half responsible for what happened anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Neria frowned, her eyes casting down to her hands as they sat in her lap. She’d been the one to help Jowan escape. Of course, she’d do the same if she had to do it over again. But Jowan was the one who had taught Connor to hide his powers. Who had poisoned Eamon under the orders of Loghain. She’d heard over and over again from Alistair, Leliana, and Morrigan that it wasn’t her fault, but it never left her mind. None of it did.

“If I hadn’t…With Jowan…” Her voice trailed off. It was on the tip of her tongue to explain this to Cullen, but then the carriage was pulling to a halt.

“We have arrived.” Connor called.

Neria sighed, slumping back into her chair. Already she could hear the soft chattering of nobles and others, gathering at the palace before things truly began that evening. Mingling in the courtyard and the throne room as dinner was prepared. Soon there would be eating and dancing and far too little to drink. Maybe she could still run back to Amaranthine.

Cullen rolled his eyes. “Come on. At least it’s not the Winter Palace.”

She groaned. “Thank the Maker for that.”

Cullen moved to open the door and step out of the carriage first. He offered her a hand to guide her down. Thankfully, Connor had dropped them off inside the main gates, a little ways from the courtyard. They wouldn’t be immediately seen by many, and could still make an entrance to the group already gathering. A few familiar faces caught her eye, though no sight of the Divine herself, she imagined she would be inside with Alistair and Anora.

Connor seemed a little lost as Cullen helped Neria from the carriage. That was to be his role, after all. His way of getting out of the ball itself, escorting her down. Crowds were still a lot for him, and thankfully Eamon had agreed to let him sit the festivities in the Palace out if he was seen being present in come capacity. “Shall I be here for you tonight, Auntie Neria?”

“Please.” She all but begged. “Thank you, Connor.”

The boy smiled to her, nodding politely to Cullen before guiding the horse and carriage away. Neria took a breath, standing straighter. She was the Hero of Fereldan. Now was the time to act like it.

“I should go join the Inquisition.” Cullen said.

“Of course.” A Noble in an Orlesian mask approached and she greeted him pleasantly, allowing him to kiss her hand. It was all a show. Someone wanting to meet her in person. “Oh! I need to find Warden Rainier. I believe he came with you all, yes?”

“I believe so.” Cullen agreed curtly. Neria didn’t miss the way his own posture had straightened, his arms at his side in what she could only describe as “at attention” as he walked. Not did she miss the group of noble ladies already eyeing him up.

“You have admirers, Commander.”

At first, Cullen arched a questioning brow at her. She nodded across the garden, where a group of ladies in frilly dresses and metallic masks were whispering amongst themselves, giggling as they nodded over to Cullen. He groaned.

“Maker’s breath there will be no end to this.”

Neria opened her mouth to ask what he meant, but then another noble approached. Neria smiled as she recognized the shock of red hair and the braid pushed behind his ear.

“Teagan!” She grinned.

“Neria, dear.” Teagan greeted. He pulled her into an embrace. It was familiar, and made Neria a bit relieved, and she relaxed if only a little. She and Teagan might have flirted briefly once, but he treated her much more as an Uncle now. The embrace was more familial than anything. It reminded her of Irving.

“Who is this?” Teagan asked. “An escort?”

Cullen cleared his throat, hiding his reddening cheeks with a firm handshake with Teagan. Neria was more graceful. “No. He’s the Commander of the Inquisition. An old friend from my time in the Circle. I met him on the way in. Cullen, this is Bann Teagan of Redcliffe.”

The brow Teagan raised told her that she didn’t necessarily believe her, but it wasn’t…entirely a lie.

“I should get to the others.” Cullen said, perhaps too quickly. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course. See you inside.” Neria gave Cullen a nod, and he bowed in return. It was impressive, how well he’d slipped into his role as commander. She turned back to Teagan. “Are you alone?”

“Isolde is inside.” Teagan said. “From your time in the Circle?”

“We’ve told you about the Templar we rescued?”

“Ah. Of course.” Teagan offered her his arm to guide her further through the courtyard. She took it gratefully, allowing him to bring her to the table of refreshment. “You are in top form tonight, my lady.”

“You don’t have to fret, Teagan.” Neria laughed as he offered her a drink and a plate of sweets. “You remember I’m technically still an Arlessa, yes? This is not my first ball.”

“You haven’t been to Denerim in years.” He replied. “We were worried you might never visit again.”

“I can’t stay away long.” Neria’s voice grew softer. The words sounded like a lie on her tongue. She might have stayed in Amaranthine longer if Nathaniel had refused. If Connor wasn’t here. “Besides, It’s time to move on.”

“Is it?” Teagan asked, his eyebrows raising. “That’s good to hear. You know, the prince of Starkhaven himself is supposed to be here. And I cannot tell you how many requests Eamon has gotten to court you.”

Neria groaned. “I almost regret leaving that in his hands. Do I want to know? Is there even anyone worth my attention?”

“Not really.” He admitted with a laugh. “But I’m sure your dance card will be full tonight. But you should know, my offer of marriage for convenience still stands.”

“And have Isolde glare daggers at me for the rest of my days? I’m flattered, Teagan but I must refuse.”

“She’s not so bad.”

“If you say so.” Neria drained her glass. “Please tell Eamon not to accept any offers.”

“He knows better. You don’t have to despise him so.”

Neria rolled her eyes. She still remembered how Eamon had looked at Alistair before the Landsmeet. As if he was a piece of meat, or a puppet ready for his strings to be plucked. The only reason Alistair was on the throne was because he himself told Neria it was what he wanted. Eamon had been furious when the plan for him to marry Anora came to light, something Neria still took satisfaction in.

“Do you have a first dance partner?” Teagan asked, giving a polite nod to a group of nobles that passed. All the eyes on her made Neria’s skin crawl.

“Do I ever?” Neria hid her rue smile behind a bite of the tiny, too-sweet cake.

Teagan rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky a warden is here.”

“Speaking of, where is the Inquisition?”

“I’ll introduce you to the ambassador.” Teagan offered, “She’s lovely. You’d enjoy their group.”

She was sure she would. Admittedly, Neria hated that she missed the adventure. But the Cure seemed more important when she heard the Inquisition was already looking into the tear in the sky. Teagan guided her to a corner of the courtyard away from the doors. A dalish elf was propped on one of the benches. On either side of her was a large Qunari, another man with tan skin and a Tevinter accent. She was surrounded by at least six others. Warden Rainier, a dwarf that looked as if his nose has been broken speaking to another woman who she was nearly certain was the Champion, a Seeker speaking to Cullen, another elven woman with no vallaslin to mark her as Dalish pulling at the collar of her formal attire, a woman with an antivan accent, and a very familiar Enchanter.

Vivienne saw her before the others, her eyes lighting up immediately. Neria was well aware that Viv was a master of the Game, but the surge of pride she felt when her expression turned genuine could not be denied.

“Neria, darling! I was afraid I had missed you.” Vivienne pulled her into an embrace not unlike Teagan, leaving him to scramble to take Neria’s plate and glass as Vivienne kissed each of her cheeks. “It is so good to see you.”

“It is good to see you too, First Enchanter. Or is it just Lady now?”

“Whatever you prefer, dear.” She turned to the others. “Inquisitor, some meet the Hero of Fereldan.”

The title from Vivienne alone turned many heads, and a small hush fell over the courtyard. After a moment the chatter began again, cautious, as if Neria would simply disappear if they got too loud. Part of her wished Vivienne wouldn’t boast so, but she also couldn’t deny the happiness that came from having a First Enchanter praise her. Circles or no, there was respect there.

Teagan cleared his throat, pressing Neria’s refreshments back into her hands. “I believe I should go find Isolde. I will see you tonight, Neria.”

“Thank you, Teagan.” Neria said with a somehow sincere smile. When she turned back to the group from the Inquisition, she was suddenly surrounded.

The dalish elf, the Inquisitor, she realized, approached first. “It’s an honor to meet you, Warden Commander Surana. Truly.”

“The honor is all mine, Inquisitor Lavellan.” Neria replied. “I hope that you are not disappointed that I could not lend more aid during your time of need. I apologize for that. But I should thank you for taking care of Morrigan and Leliana so well.”

“They took care of me. Come, sit with us, please.”

It was less sitting and more congregating in a small area. Neria found herself fitting in easily with the Inquisition. They were all easy to speak with, and they had a good sense of humor. The only thing to remind her of where she was were the other attendees interrupting every now and then, vying for an audience with the hero of Fereldan, Inquisitor, and Champion of Kirkwall, Neria came to realize. Her refreshments were soon forgotten as she fell into idle conversation, swapping stories and tales of adventure and travel alike.

“So, is it always a term of endearment?” She asked The Iron Bull when she heard him refer to the Tevinter mage, Dorian, with a term she recognized. “Sten, or rather, the Arishok now, used it.”

“Kadan? No not always. Depends on the person, you see.”

“That’s a relief.” Neria sighed, “I’d hate to have spurned his affections if it were meant to be romantic.”

Bull gave a hardy laugh ad a slap on the back. “Wouldn’t that be a story, eh? Varric, what do you think?”

“The Arishok, still a Sten, falling in love with a Bas Saarebas in a distant land, only to be spurned by her when she falls for the King?” The dwarf gave a pointed look to the Seeker, Cassandra, who was looking on with a sudden twinkle of interest in her eyes. “Nah. Sounds way too mushy for me. Only a truly hopeless romantic would want to read any of that.”

Hawke laughed beside Cassandra as the seeker glared daggers at him, and even Neria could do little to hide her amusement. “Falling for the king might be an exaggeration.”

“That’s what makes the story so good, Hero.”

“Perhaps she and the Arishok could reconcile.” Josephine, the Antivan ambassador, suggested. “Make it a truly happy ending.”

“No that won’t work either. I was banned from Seheron by the last Arishok.” Neria said. “And I have been sword to secrecy as to why.”

Another laugh from Bull, and the conversation switched to Hawke and the previous Arishok. Neria felt a tap on her shoulder, turning to see Warden Rainier. “Commander, could I speak with you a moment?”

“Of course.” Neria said.

They took a few steps away, back towards the garden wall. Thom Rainier was a Warden recruit with a troubled past, but there was no Warden without one. He looked rather nervous as he led her away. “I uh…I must apologize. I know we arranged for me to be your first dance partner, but I must request to be, erm…relieved of that duty.”

Neria blinked, raising a brow at him. Rather guiltily, he looked behind her. Neria followed his gaze to the Inquisition, landing on Josephine.

“Ah.” She gave him a smile. “There is no need to apologize. I understand completely.” She waved her hand dismissively. “So at-ease or…whatever. You’re relieved.”

The tension in his shoulders left, and he gave her a solute “Thank you, Commander.”

With another far too enthusiastic bow he returned to the group. Neria sighed, biting her lip. This was a dilemma, but she didn’t want to focus on that now. Not with too-familiar footsteps approaching.

“What was that about?” Cullen asked, two glasses in his hand. He offered her one. She took it gratefully. “A dance?”

“It’s an old Fereldan tradition, apparently only common during these fancy celebrations.” She explained, sipping the wine. “Your first dance is to be with the person who escorted you to the party. Symbolic of a partnership and putting them first or something. The rest of the dances can be with anyone. Likely a way for nobility to mingle with each other in more intimate ways while remaining proper.”

Cullen tilted his head. “So you won’t have a first dance partner? Is that…bad?”

“Normally, no. but I’m the Hero of Fereldan. Somehow it’s…significant. Or so I’ve been told. Usually, I get a Warden to dance with. It doesn’t HAVE to be romantic, and if I dance with a Warden no one can claim I’ve chosen someone. Rumors don’t spread.” She frowned, massaging the bridge of her nose. Anora was going to kill her.

She downed her wine too quickly. She’d think of something, she always did. She turned to thank Cullen for the drink, but then an elven servant was approaching.

“Warden Commander. Her Grace wishes to see you.”

Neria frowned, suddenly worried. “Anora?”