I Swear it was an Accident
Children hovered around the edges of the White Spire's entrance hall, their excited whispers echoing off the marble, coaxing hissing responses from the ceiling, lost in darkness high overhead. They were trying to be inconspicuous, but little is more conspicuous than nearly two dozen eager youngsters trying to pretend they aren't there.
Cassandra caught the words "dragons" and "Divine" among the echoes. Oh no. "Galyan. What is this?" The audience did explain why he hadn't touched her at all when escorting her inside.
Shifting from foot to foot, the mage glanced nervously at the leading edge of their young observers. "Well, you see…"
She raised an eyebrow.
He flinched and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze. "There's a perfectly reasonable explanation. My last class was…"
It wasn't like him to be at a loss for words. Under other circumstances, she might have found it cute. But he knew how much the whole "Hero of Orlais" business annoyed her, given the number of people who had helped protect Divine Beatrice and never got more than a cursory acknowledgement. She always tried to maintain some anonymity on these visits, yet here was a slew of apprentices, apparently fixated on exactly that.
"Galyan?" she prompted.
He tilted his head back, eyes closed, crinkling at the corners suggesting a headache. "I swear it was an accident."
"What was?"
Sighing deeply, he met her eyes again. One hand reached out as if to take hers, then curled into a fist and dropped helplessly back to his side. "Apparently I seemed particularly cheery today." He didn't now. The poor man looked miserable.
Cassandra wanted to run her fingers through his auburn hair, to kiss him on the nose and make him laugh. Was she so difficult? Had she really given him reason to be so apprehensive?
"One of them asked why. A harmless enough question, yes?" Left foot. Right foot. He couldn't stand still. "So I told them a…friend…was coming to meet me after lessons ended for the day."
"A 'friend,' hmm?" But what else was he to tell them? Some of these children couldn't have been more than seven or eight, and she was a Seeker, the order more a bogyman to mages even than their Templar overseers.
He ignored the barbed question, probably having come to the same conclusion. "Then one asks who my friend is. They started guessing, Cassandra! Before I could say a word!"
"It would take children to out-talk you."
"Hah." He pouted a little. "Well, of course I let them carry on. They've no cause to imagine I might be seeing the nation's hero, I thought, but–"
"Overlooking your own involvement in that whole affair, no, none at all," she said, suppressing a smile.
"It was almost their first guess!" He flung up his arms, almost as agitated as when they'd first met. "Of course they could tell it was correct. And then they insisted they must meet you. Immediately. Nothing else would suffice. I told them I would arrange for you to speak with them another time." He looked back at the children. A few ducked into doorways or around corners, but most simply stared in rapt fascination. He sighed again. "So they followed me."
Giving talks to curious children was no how she was hoping to pass the time. "Galyan…"
"I know. I'm sorry. I was very much looking forward to a quiet evening, myself."
"Quiet?" An idea struck her; she wasn't writing off this visit just yet.
"Well. Private."
"We can arrange it. I would be willing to come speak to them. Later."
"But, Cassandra–"
She wrapped her fingers in the collar of his Enchanter's robes. "Later." Drawing him close, she kissed him, hard and deeply, devouring his muffled sounds of surprise.
A little girl squealed amid the sudden eruption of gasps and giggles. At least one voice protested a repulsed, "Ew!"
Quickly overcoming his shock at her forwardness, Galyan pulled her close, banishing the space between them. His gentle hands twined into her hair and stroked the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.
More laughter from the children, and finally, hurried footsteps. First only one or two, then more, echoing away down the adjoining corridors. At last, blessed silence.
Cassandra broke the kiss, head swimming, feeling a little shy about her unaccustomed display. Their relationship was not a secret, but it was very, very private.
"Well now." Galyan stopped staring at her long enough for a quick glance around the hall. "That was brilliant, my lady."
"The idea, or the kiss?"
Mischief lit a spark in his green eyes. "You do have quite a clever mouth for a brash–"
"Galyan."
"–ill-tempered–"
"We really should–"
"–entirely perfect–" This time, he kissed her, insistent and inviting, as if she was a prayer on his lips and tongue. His hands slid to her hips, pulled her against him.
She cupped his face, painfully aware of her callused fingers as she traced his cheekbones and the strong curve of his jaw.
He caught her hand, sensing every hesitation, and kissed her fingertips while she struggled to regain her breath and composure.
A lost cause. "Galyan," she gasped, dizzy and much, much too warm, "room. Now. Before we get company again."
"Mmm, compelling argument." Grinning, he laced his fingers into hers and tugged her after him, until they were both racing through the halls of the White Spire, hand-in-hand, laughing like children.