"I believe the music has ended, Commander."
"Huh?" Cullen blinked and glanced to the ballroom. Couples lingered around the edges of the floor, masks whispering behind half-closed fans. Instruments took up the seats that had once belonged to their musicians. The extinguished candles in that corner said that the music was over for the night. "... I hadn't noticed."
The hand on his shoulder started to slip down and Cullen tightened his hold around the Elysse's waist. He didn't want this to end. Not yet.
"I—" He cleared his throat. "Perhaps we could move to a more secluded area—to continue our dance, of course."
Her mouth curled up into a smirk. "Is dancing all that we'll be doing?"
"I may have had a few other things in mind."
Cullen grinned at her laugh, catching the sound in a kiss. Arms wrapped around his neck as they shuffle-waltzed towards the corner of the balcony most hidden from view. She tasted like wine and spiced fruits.
His tongue flicked out for more when someone cleared their throat behind him.
Cullen's eye twitched as he pulled away from the embrace. Part of the Chant ran through his head on a loop as he attempted to calm himself down.
"Yes?" he asked, turning around.
A woman—or so he assumed from the style of her clothes—fanned at her porcelain mask, the feathers on her hat waving wildly in the breeze she stirred.
"My dearest Commander," the voice was pitched and squeaky, "I believe you left this behind on the dance floor." She pulled a handkerchief from the folds of her ball gown with an overdramatic flourish.
He started to refuse but she moved in close, her intense perfume almost choking him.
"One never knows when one must clean up a little mess." Her wink sent a shudder up his spine. But he plastered on a smile and bowed to the woman.
Cullen waited until the last ribbon of her dress had trailed back inside before tossing the bit of cloth over the side to the gardens below. "By the love of Andraste, what is it with Orlesians?" He stared down at his gloves before stripping them off as well.
Elysse was biting her lip, the laughter clear in her eyes, as she came to his side. "They're not all so bad. I heard a few of them say that you have remarkable eyes. That was nice."
Cullen scoffed at the memory. "Yes, they were all too willing to stare at me and pinch and poke and tease." He flushed at her grin: he hadn't meant for so much of his irritation to leak through.
"They're not wrong," she said, bringing a hand up to his face. "Your eyes are... it's like watching firelight through amber: they are remarkable."
He felt his cheeks heat. The nobles' words had been empty, meant only to pry and entertain, but her—those words meant something coming from her.
"... thank you."
"Shall we try again?"
"Again?"
"The other things you had on your mind," she reminded. "Have you gone through all of them already?"
Cullen grinned as he weaved their hands together. "I've barely started." He tugged her into the ballroom, dodging and weaving through the masks. One man tossed a flower at him as they passed. Elysse caught it with a laugh, promising the noble that Commander Cullen would be happy to give you a dance at the next peace summit.
His grip tightened on her when he spun past a particularly hungry looking pair of twins and didn't stop his march till he reached the relative quiet of the vestibule.
