Cassandra wasn't the type of person to put much stock in dreams. The Fade was a mishmash of the mind's undercurrents, nothing that ought to affect the waking mind.
It was therefore annoying that a dream could influence her feelings. Cassandra sat for a few moments on the edge of her cot, head in her hands as she tried to shake the longing from her mind. Standing, she stretched, and began limbering up in the thin light of morning. It was too early even for the forge to be relit, and the silence of Skyhold meant there was little Cassandra could focus on, her morning routine had become nearly automatic years ago.
Finally finished with her morning exercises, Cassandra buckled on her armour, taking more care than usual with the straps and buckles. Even so, her mind wandered. Flashes of the dream left her feeling bereft. An idiotic thing, Cassandra snorted at her own foolish thoughts.
Such a dream was simply the Fade's response to the Inquisitor's announcement the night before, Cassandra reassured herself, tromping down the stairs and out the door towards the training dummies. While she was happy for the Inquisitor and Sera, it did throw into sharp contrast the lack of romance in her own life. One could only stave off loneliness with romance novels for so long, it appeared.
If she were being honest, Cassandra thought, sword smashing into the target dummy's neck, that really made the dream even more ridiculous. After all, she had read another chapter of Swords and Shields before bed, and the dwarf's absurd portrait was on the back cover.
Heart pounding, blood singing in her veins
Shaking her head, Cassandra growled at the training dummy and dealt it a vicious blow. Of all the people her mind could've conjured! She danced her way around the dummies, the same familiar routines that had always helped center her.
Blow after blow rained down on the dummies, straw and scraps of cloth flying everywhere. Cassandra brushed straw from her hair, plucked it out of her collar, and kept practicing.
That look. The look of a man who wasn't sure if his touch would shatter something precious. Tender and scared and joyous, and under that, hungry.
"Maker." Cassandra whispered, under her breath. Half plea, half curse.
Mostly curse, if she was going to be truthful.
The tip of her sword dragged on the turf. Overhead, the last vestiges of night had finally cleared from the skies. Skyhold was beginning to come awake.
I didn't want to wake up, Cassandra thought. I wanted to stay, even if it was only a dream.
