Boom, boom, boom, echoed through the chamber of upper Skyhold. His eyes popping open in haste, his body bolting up from the fine silken sheets. A gift from the Orlesians, always overly extravagant. More loud pounding came before the Inquisitor realized someone was knocking at his door. Not just anyone of course. He'd grown accustomed to being summoned this way, despite who he was, and could recognize that knock from anywhere.
"Three, two, one..."
On the final count, the door flew open, breaking the locks in the process and revealing the fierce presence of an armored woman at the entrance.
"Cassandra," he said, smiling beneath his golden beard.
"Don't 'Cassandra' me. Why didn't you answer me when I knocked at your door?"
The Inquisitor looked down at her hand and noticed her sword was drawn. Her expression was much more threatening than any sword in one's hand.
"I was sleeping... what is that, the third lock you broke this week? The wood and metal don't come cheap you know. Maybe it would if they didn't go overboard on the quality. Not everything has to be top notch."
Cassandra sheathed her blade, stepping closer to him. Her expression was softer now. Relieved. "You are the Herald of Andraste. Assassins from Templars, mages, demons from the ones we keep here in our hold, no matter how closely your men watch them... It all holds a significant threat. And I will not allow complacency to put your life in danger." Cassandra seemed to only notice something now, herself. The Inquisitor's blade was drawn as well.
"Do you always sleep in the nude?" she asked, unable to hide her smirk.
Smiling himself, he said, "Well, I was thinking about you and hoped you might pay me a visit at night. Now that you're here..."
"Sorry, no time for that," she said, throwing clothes at him and hiding her reddening cheeks. "You have guests. Patients more like. Three dozen women and children who all made pilgrimages here to see the Herald of Andraste. It's urgent business that demands your attention."
"Alright alright," said the Inquisitor under the assault of the flying cloth, just before Cassandra yanked him out the room and to the courtyard.
"Hey hey, you two! Did you use any inspiration from the book I gave you, fair Seeker?"
"Not right now, Varric. I have no time for your antics!" She yelled, pushing past him through the wooden quarters of Skyhold. She didn't notice the Inquisitor's wink from behind.
Outside, they could already hear the pleading and yelling coming from the hold's gates. Women and their children all huddled up together as Cullen and a group of his soldiers tried to keep them back and contained. "Hold! We must quarantine you here until we know it is safe to allow you passage!"
"But my boy, he is sick! Dying! The Inquisitor can save us, if only you'd let us see him, I'm sure!"
"We cannot be sure of that. I am the acting Templar here in Skyhold, and I will not allow you to come inside until I am certain that-"
"Stand aside, Cullen! I will inquire for myself. That is what I'm here for, after all."
Gasps at the booming deep voice came from the women and children, hoping against all hope that this was the man who they'd sought all this time. Forgetting Cullen's presence as he stepped past his bowing head, their eyes settled on the other blonde man. This one in simple fitting tan officer garments, his moderate beard complementing his gaunt face, shrouded in his golden hair, the color of Andraste's light, herself. His blue eyes seemed to pierce them like ice as they gazed on him, a more dominating figure than anyone around, even without armor.
His face melted from an assertive glare to a kind smile. Yes, this was him. This was the Herald of Andraste.
"Let me have a look at you," he said to the fairly aged woman at the front. His smile left him now in place of concern upon his face. "I can sense dark magic over you remnant of that from the rifts. What happened?"
"Demon attacks, m'lord. We fled our villages after rifts releasing demons from them overtook us. Our husbands... they tried to defend us. But the rifts just kept releasing more and more. This green mist kept pouring from it, and the magic from it has tainted us somehow, made us weak and feeble. We only managed to get away because of the men in our town. Please. Our chantry lady told us that Andraste herself would come to heal our affliction if only you could lay your blessed hand upon our heads."
The Inquisitor listened tentatively, though he didn't seem happy with what they were asking. This Herald of Andraste thing bothered him greatly. But for them, and for Cassandra, he would play his role well. They needed it. And perhaps, he needed to believe it too. "You have come to seek my help, and I shall grant it. Come. Let me lay my hands on you and see if Andraste's will is with us. I will do my best, but I can't promise it will work."
"It will work, it will! You are her chosen!" said the woman, running up to him closer than Cassandra would have liked, for more reasons than the Inquisitor's mere safety.
Smiling as his arm went around her shoulder, he slowly placed his hand upon her head, glowing stronger as it got closer. He could see the green light reflecting from her eyes as she watched his hand's decent on her in awe. Light flickered and flew from his hand, filling her with whatever energy flowed from it. She lost the energy in her legs and would have fallen, but his strong arms held her.
"It's done. I sense no demonic presence within or around you any longer."
A cheer erupted from the crowd and some of the women tried grabbing at him in a frenzy before Cassandra stepped forward and said, "Enough! The Inquisitor will get to all of you soon, one at a time! Hands off!"
"It's fine, Cassandra," he said, hand finding her back as he stood next to her to calm her down. When his hand went lower, however, he soon found her hand on his head, though in her case, it was shaped as a fist. More gasps from the crowd came.
"Hey! You cannot hit the blessed Herald of Andraste!"
Used to her surprise swings, he turned and deflected the worst of it. "It's fine, don't worry. Now, if you'll all please do as the woman said, I'll come to meet with you all in person once you've had some food and rest. I'll get to you soon, I promise. Now..."
Cassandra had already walked off by the time he'd turn to speak with her. Sighing, he said to Cullen, "What a difficult woman to deal with."
Cullen said, "Yes, well. You like a challenge, am I right? There's your challenge. Personally, I'd have all I could handle with rifts, demons and Corypheus to deal with. But that's why I'm not the Inquisitor, heh. Have fun with that, friend."
Smiling, he said, "Speaking of everything I already have on my table, this sickness of theirs. That's something you yourself could have dispelled as a Templar, isn't it?"
Cullen gave a rare mischievous smile and said, "Perhaps, perhaps not, Trevelyan. But they wanted the Herald. How could I deny you to them? The more people that believe, the better, I say."
"And if it didn't work?"
Turning away, he said, "You heard what the woman said. Now, better attend to Pentaghast before she gets impatient."
The Herald took Cullen's advice and quickly ran off to find her. He went to the very spot that she always went to when she was upset about something. It was always either the practice dummy area, or by the window in the building opposite of the tavern. That's where they often ran off to for spending time together. Ever since he had the men continue their training in the courtyard. Some of the others began to complain about the sound of steel clanging against steel, but for he and Cassandra, the sound from the window as they watched in secret was calming. She'd close her eyes with him behind her, strong arms around her body as she let the sound relax her while his kisses sent shivers down her neck.
The thought made him warm in his gut, and he longed to be with her again. This blasted job of his always seemed to get in the way of that. Going there now, Trevelyan's stomach sank when he found her absent from their private spot. "Blast it. I was sure she'd be here. What is it with her, anyway?"
Giving up, he made his way back to his chambers, cursing the size of the place, as all the walking it took to get back to his room gave him plenty of time to torture himself over her. By the time he got back, his eyes raised at the sight of her standing at the ledge outside his room.
"Cassandra," he called from behind her.
Looking away from the frosted mountains, she said, "Don't 'Cassandra' me. Do not disrespect me in front of the men just because you've sheathed your sword in me once."
"Twice," he said with a smirk. Cassandra's face said she wasn't amused. As her head turned back, he said, "Disrespect you? Is that what you call public showing of affection?"
Sighing, she said, "It's... It's just hard for me. You are the Herald of Andraste. And I am a simple seeker..." shaking her head, she said, "It... feels wrong. And I cannot allow the soldiers to think I've gone..."
"What, weak? Is that what you think I've done? And if it feels so wrong, why are you here?"
Cassandra turned around fully to see him, though as her body faced him, her eyes glanced away. "It's just... I don't feel worthy of you. I've done terrible things as a Seeker that I thought was for the service of the Maker. But after reading that tome, I..."
"Listen here, Cassandra. I am just a man. And Herald or not, I know you are worthy of me, because I said you are. Andraste, the Maker, they have no say in that." He stepped closer to her now, and closer again until his body pressed against hers, her back at the stone rails keeping her from falling over. "I am but a man. A man with emotions... and desires."
Smiling now, she said nervously, "And I am but a woman with worries, self consciousness and self doubt. And..."
"And desires?" he said, smirking.
Returning the smirk, she said, "Maybe. But..."
"No buts." His hands went around her waist as he silenced her with his mouth. They began quickly stripping eachother, but when his hands traveled down her spine again, she pushed him away once more.
"No, stop."
"What's wrong now, Cassandra? Why do you resist giving what you've already gifted me?"
"I'm sorry, my love. I'm just stubborn. It's the warrior in me. I can't just submit without at least giving a good fight."
"You're saying you want me to fight for it?"
"No, that's not quite what I..."
The inquisitor seized her again, pushing her back on the stone. She had to wrap her hands around his neck for risk of falling, though his hands were firmly wrapped around her waist still. "What are you doing?" she asked, eyes panicked.
"You better hold on, Seeker."
"I will," was all she could say. He was in command. He always was. She let him kiss at her neck and fondle her finally, giving in to the uneasy feeling in her lower regions as his hands gripped her firm cheeks fiercely. She was slick since the minute that his hands were on her, and the cool mountain air hardened her nips, which he tugged at with his mouth while she still sat on the rails. His fingers traveled down and soon made their way within her. The sensation a foreign one to one who was so rarely touched in such a manner, even by herself. When his head traveled down to help with what his blessed hand was doing, the Seeker's will faded completely as her head rolled back to see the great mountain range.
His tongue trailed her strong powerful legs towards her dark center, licking at the glistening wetness coming from her trembling core. Oh how marvelous her legs looked, legs of a woman used to marching long distances in heavy attire. The benefits of bedding a soldier were many. The cold air stung his ears, a strong contrast from the feel of her warmth at his mouth. Even with the shriek of wind, he could hear her voice clearly in his ears as her strong hands gripped his head, working it and his mouth with her leg wrapped fiercely around his neck and back.
She thought she actually fell over for a second as he lifted her away toward his bed, still straddling his shoulders. Throwing her on her stomach and parting her legs, she could feel him parting her within, her body as stubborn as she had been earlier. But as always, her stubbornness was no match for his command, and she soon felt him budding deep.
When he first had at her, she panicked. She did not like this feeling of vulnerability that he brought, and yet she could not go without it for long. It was the same now as he jutted within her, her cheeks clapping at his pelvis, taking away her senses with each movement. She was beginning to lose herself again and panic from the overwhelming feeling moving throughout her limbs, and for a while, she could have sworn that she was feeling the power that he commanded with his hand going through her.
"Stop, stop this," she said. She wanted him to do anything but stop, and he knew it. Instead, he grabbed at the short dark hair of her head and moved deep, forcing out the buried vulnerability that she fought so hard to hide. But like anything, she could not keep it from him long. Her moans and pants turned to yells and screams as she quaked and quivered around his skin, and the burning at her center had radiated through her, wetting his new silk sheets in her sweat and quaking center as she collapsed beneath him.
"I'm not done yet," he said in her ear in his deep commanding voice. She knew it, because she could still feel him through her very center.
"Good. I want more, but... I can't move my legs."
Grinning, he flipped her over and laid next to her, helping her climb over him as they kissed. He was strong, and moved them both in his gyrating before she eventually took the reins. Rocking back and forth, her arms pinning him down, she looked at him with the same ferocity that she had earlier. "I saw how you held that woman."
Finding it hard to speak, he fought out the words, "It was... just showmanship. You're not mad are you?"
"Hmph," was all she answered with, riding him harder, as if in revenge for what he'd made her feel not too long ago. "You're mine. As long as you know that, I'm fine. Now.. no more words."
He was happy to comply, as he couldn't speak much anyway with her tightening herself on him with those powerful legs of hers. Sitting atop him crouched, she rubbed her hands along his chest, sighing and crying out again as he did the same. The whole bed shook violently beneath her, and soon the Inquisitor called her name as he squished her shaking ass between his brutish hands. "Cassandra... by the Maker..."
"Don't Cassandra me," she said, smirking. "And don't mention him. If he or the most holy could see me now, I... I don't care anymore!" she yelled. Falling to her back, she let him take her once more, riding against his thrusts, grinding against his pelvis until they both let themselves go over the edge like they almost did at his window. She heard his hard grunts in his ear and felt the comforting warmth of his seed pouring from deep within her. Both of them wet and dirty together, laying in their perspiration, limbs tangled.
After a while, her breath returned, but she still laid there under him, indecent and soiled. And feeling all the better for it.
"Does this still feel wrong, Seeker?"
Smiling, she said low, almost like a whisper. "Yes. But... I realize that maybe that's partly why I love it so much. The holy Herald of Andraste, hot beneath my body... succumbing to the wiles of my womb. I get to do what all those other women only dream about." Looking up into his piercing icy eyes, she ran a finger over his scar. Likely from a lesser man who was jealous of them, and sought to remove it in battle. "I only allow this because I know you care. I feel it. But then, you make everyone feel that way. Even the mages after you'd conscripted them. That is nothing short of amazing, love."
"I do care, Cassandra. About them... about you. You were always at my side, from the beginning. That's why this doesn't feel wrong for me. It feels natural."
"In the beginning, I was your interrogator. And if not for Leliana, I'd have been your torturer."
"In other words, nothing's changed," he said.
"Oh shut up," she said, smiling as she punched his chest.
"Heh, see what I mean? Don't be so hard on yourself. I need you, Cassandra."
"Yes, Inquisitor."
"Say my name, woman. My real name."
Wrapping her hand with his, the green glow shining between their embrace, she whispered it in his ear, then said, "My love."
"Oh Maker, where do you get your lines, from Varric?"
Cassandra's face turned so red, he thought she might have a stroke. Seeing a peering eye and streak of blonde hair between the crack from the broken door, she yelled "Go away, Sera, before I have your head on a pike above the battlements!"
"Na ha!" was all they heard, followed with the sound of the elf beating feet before Cassandra broke the door open in the opposite direction.