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The air was crisp and clear, and Morrigan stood on the balcony, enjoying it. The heavy fabrics of her dress made her warmer than usual; Kieran had gone for style over practicality. Morrigan leaned against the balustrade, enjoying the breeze.
“Why, Lady Morrigan,” Leliana emerged from the shadows, slipping into place beside her. Now that the official ball was done, Leliana had discarded of the official Inquisition uniform that she had worn earlier. Instead she had slipped into a true Orlesian gown, a rich green silk off-the shoulders creation with a plunging neckline and long, ruffled skirts in the latest fashion. A mask meant to resemble a swan hid her recognizable face from the view of a casual observer. “It has been too long.”
“Indeed, Lady Nightingale. I hear that you told the Inquisitor of our… acquaintance.”
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“I made sure Inquisitor Adaar was on her guard, that was all. I hope you understand.”
“Of course. Tis only to be expected, I suppose, given the circumstances of my departure.”
Leliana made an agreeable noise. “Yes, Tabris was quite upset. Both times.”
“She told you?” Morrigan couldn’t help but reveal her surprise.
“She wrote to me. It was the last letter I received from her before her disappearance.”
Morrigan frowned. “So it is true then? She hasn’t been seen?”
“The Inquisition received official correspondence from her recently. She’s well. Zevran’s with her.”
Morrigan groaned. “I do not know if I am grateful that she is not alone, or despairing that she still finds pleasure in his company.”
“Ah, love.” Leliana shook her head. “They are happy, at least. She included a private missive for me; there were also a few lines for you and the others. When we get to Skyhold, I will show it to you.”
“You can’t just tell me what it says?” Morrigan arched a brow at the Inquisition’s spymaster.
Beneath the mask, Morrigan was certain that Leliana was laughing. “Alas, she coded it. I’m afraid I couldn’t crack it.”
Morrigan frowned. “I do not suppose she left me a hint?”
“Live well.” Leliana said.
“Ah,” Morrigan bowed her head slightly. “I suppose that would do it.”
“She has a keen memory, our Warden.”
“And a surprisingly forgiving disposition, considering.” Morrigan brushed her fingers along the length of her necklace—a gift from the Warden. The mirror remained in her quarters; Kieran loved to play with it.
“She only forgives those she thinks deserve it,” Leliana said quietly. “How is the boy?”
Morrigan refused to flinch. “He is well. Healthy. Normal.”
“Kieran is his name, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Has Alistair met him?”
“No. I thought it would be for the best. Queen Anora might be friendly towards Orlais but her husband’s bastard son might just be a bit too much even for her extraordinary patience.”
Leliana did laugh this time. “Poor Anora. First Cailan, now Alistair. You are correct, her patience is legendary.”
“The fool is not doing such a poor job, I must admit. I thought Tabris out of her mind when she first made the declaration.”
“Alistair certainly agreed with that,” Leliana said.
“A rare occasion where I would consider him to be absolutely right.”
Leliana let out a giggle. “Still. It turned out well.”
“The Warden worked miracles, back during the blight,” Morrigan said frankly. “Let’s just hope your Inquisitor can do the same.”
A balcony above them opened up, and Adaar herself strode out, pushing her long auburn hair out of her face, between her horns. Morrigan and Leliana both immediately moved into the shadows, observing.
A dark-haired woman, also wearing the uniform of the Inquisition, arrived moments later, and soon, the two were dancing, oblivious to their audience hidden below them.
“Ah, Josephine,” Leliana murmured. “And in full view of the court too.”
“Very bold, especially for a Qunari,” Morrigan observed.
“Vashoth, technically,” Leliana said. “But I suppose the Orlesian court can’t be bothered with those particular social intricacies.”
“Tell me about her,” Morrigan said, not taking her eyes off the dancing couple.
“She’s a mage, as you probably have seen. She likes lightning, and helping people. She doesn’t like violence.”
“Which is why I can assume the Grand Duchess isn’t a pile of charcoal on the ballroom floor?”
“She’s surprisingly good at the Game, given her disadvantages,” Leliana had her mask off now, so Morrigan could see her thoughtful expression. “Better than Tabris would have been.”
“Tabris would probably have slaughtered her way through the ballroom instead of dancing,” Morrigan said.
“She would not have liked Celene at all.”
“She would have hated Gaspard more. Did you hear he tried to get elves classified as animals?”
Leliana shook her head, sighing. “Perhaps it was for the best that she went off to seek a cure for the Blight. All this politics…”
“She solved the succession crisis of Ferelden with a duel,” Morrigan said frankly. “Orlesian issues are not quite so simple.”
“Still,” Leliana paused. “She would have been better than the other candidate we had in mind.”
“Who could possibly have been a worse candidate than the Warden?”
“Seeker Pentaghast had her heart set on Hawke.”
“Did she wish to see all of Thedas on fire? If half of what I hear about what went on in Kirkwall is true, I’m surprised the Free Marshes are still standing!”
“Cassandra is awed by the legend.” Leliana looked at Morrigan sideways. “You know, the Champion apparently had contact with Flemeth.”
“I have read The Tale of the Champion,” Morrigan said.
“I have it confirmed from Varric,” Leliana sighed. “I’ll see if he can tell me anything else.”
“Thank you,” Morrigan said, after a moment.
“Certainly, Lady Morrigan.” Leliana settled down again, leaning against the railing. “So, now you simply must tell me. Who is your tailor? That dress is simply wonderful.” There was a definite smirk on her face.
Morrigan flushed. “Kieran chose the dress!”
“I can’t help but notice it is remarkably similar to one I described—”
The two of them dissolved into their familiar bickering, and a warmth filled Morrigan’s chest. Perhaps going to Skyhold would not be all that bad.