Cassandra wasn't used to being caught by surprise.

No matter what the situation was—whether it be on the battlefield, in the bedroom, or anywhere in between—Cassandra was always prepared. She prided herself on her ability to know what was going to happen before it did. She trusted in the knowledge that she could tell when someone was keeping secrets from her. Those were her strengths, and she had clung tightly to them for decades.

Ever since the Inquisition had been formed, it was as if the world had been pulled out from under her feet.

She had hidden her surprise well when Cullen had come to her with the news that he had stopped taking lyrium, but the truth of the matter was that she had not seen it coming. She had let herself be taken in by Varric's excuses and half-truths, so that it had blindsided her when the truth about Hawke finally came out. She had trusted wholeheartedly in the Seekers, certain in the fact that they would do what was right for Thedas, only to watch the Order crumble.

And then there was Trevelyan.

Cassandra hadn't known what to think of the woman at first. No, that wasn't quite true. In the very beginning, she had known what to think of her. It had been simple then. The Conclave was gone, destroyed in a moment, and she had absolutely certain that the only survivor they had found must have been the one behind it. After the events of Kirkwall, it had seemed almost fitting that it once again was a mage behind yet another explosion.

But then Trevelyan had surprised her. The woman had stepped up and done whatever was asked of her, doing her best to save a world that wanted nothing from her. She hadn't asked for fame or glory. All she wanted was to do the Maker's work, to keep going forward on the path that he had put her on. She never complained. She never shirked her duty. She simply did what was required of her, and then some, pushing herself until she had almost nothing left to give.

It took a harder woman than Cassandra to ignore those facts.

Because of that, it wasn't a surprise when Cassandra began to consider her to be a friend. They had worked closely together for the better part of a year, first in Haven and then in Skyhold. They had traveled what felt like half of Thedas, trying their best to stabilize a world that was a breath away from going up in flames. They had bled together and laughed together and cried together.

What surprised her was the realization that perhaps she considered Trevelyan to be something more than just a friend. That, Cassandra hadn't seen coming in the least bit.

In more ways than one.

They were in the Exalted Plains when Cassandra first realized it.

It had been a long day of fighting, and not a one of them had argued when the Trevelyan suggested making camp near one of the small streams that fed into a river. Especially once she explained why she had chosen that particular location. The weather was mild, and the stream itself provided the perfect chance for them to bathe. And after several days of almost nonstop fighting, they were all ready to attempt cleaning up.

"I will set you on fire if I catch any of you trying to watch again," Trevelyan said firmly, a slight twist to her mouth the only sign that she was anything but deadly serious.

Iron Bull gave her a thoughtful look. "Is that supposed to be a threat, or—"

A pointed elbow to the side from Dorian cut him off. "Be thoughtful of the rest of us," Dorian drawled out, not even trying to hide the mirth in his eyes. "We haven't eaten yet, and the smell of roast qunari does so little for the appetite."

"It's even worse than uncooked qunari," Varric agreed with a chuckle, "and that's saying something."

Iron Bull rolled his eye. "Everyone's a critic."

Trevelyan snorted. "Just for that," she said pointedly, "Cassandra and I are going first."

Cassandra forced her face to stay expressionless when Trevelyan glanced at her and immediately raised an eyebrow. While the others had been bantering, she had taken the liberty of gathering what she would need for bathing. She was well aware that there was no chance of the men bathing before them; as much as they might have played otherwise, not a one of them would have actually tried to go first.

"Subtlety really isn't your thing, is it Seeker?" Varric asked.

Cassandra scowled at him but didn't argue as she turned and started in the direction of the stream.

She heard laughter behind her, Trevelyan's distinctive higher pitch ringing out over the others. Shaking her head, Cassandra kept walking until she reached the stream, the sounds from the camp fading away to be replaced by the noise of running water.

By the time Trevelyan finally joined her, a good quarter of an hour later, Cassandra had already made good use of her time alone. Most of her no-longer-soiled clothes were laying on the stream's bank, drying in the sun, as she carefully washed her hair. She'd taken it down from its customary braid, trying her best not to think about just what had dried on it to make it so stiff. Considering they'd been fighting undead, there were a wide variety of options, each of them worse than the one before it.

"Oh!"

Cassandra glanced behind her, frowning a little when she saw that Trevelyan was standing beside the stream, half-dressed, her gaze focused intently on her. "Is something the matter, Inquisitor?"

Trevelyan quickly shook her head and went back to undressing. "Sorry," she said, more than a hint of sheepishness in her voice, "it's just that I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair down."

At that, Cassandra's frown grew more pronounced. "Truly?" she asked. "Never? In all this time?"

"Trust me," Trevelyan said, her sheepishness giving way to the humor that Cassandra was more used to hearing from her. "It's gorgeous. I'd remember if I'd seen it before."

Then she turned her attention away from Cassandra and back to the clothes she had stripped off, stepping into the water to scrub them the best that she could.

Cassandra stood there a moment, her cheeks suddenly feeling a bit warm. It's gorgeous. She was well aware that Trevelyan hadn't meant anything by her words. The Inquisitor's own hair was cut almost ridiculously short, and the moment it started to gain any true length she would cut it again. Trevelyan had made no secret that she adored long hair, though, as long as she wasn't wearing it herself.

It's gorgeous.

With a shake of her head, Cassandra forced her attention back to the matter at hand and went back to washing her hair. The sooner she finished, the sooner she could put it back into its usual braid.

It's gorgeous.

Biting her lip, Cassandra glanced back at Trevelyan for just a moment. The Inquisitor had her back to Cassandra, the water in the stream stopping about halfway up her thighs. She was running a bar of soap over her sun-darkened skin, a few streams of sudsy water trickling down her back.

It wasn't the first time they had bathed with each other, and it wouldn't be the last. But Cassandra was well aware that it was the first time that she'd truly noticed their nudity.

She wasn't blind. There had been times before when she'd found herself studying other women, taking in the beauty of firm breasts or rounded curves rather than the more masculine attributes that she usually preferred. She had simply… never thought of it in more than the abstract.

Until now. And Cassandra had the sinking feeling that she knew why the thought was suddenly in her head.

Cassandra wasn't oblivious. She'd noticed that Trevelyan flirted with her, time and time again. But then there was hardly anyone that the woman didn't flirt with.

It never occurred to her that it might mean something.

Until, suddenly, it did. And Cassandra had no idea how to deal with her world shifting in such a dramatic way.

"Is that what you want?"

Trevelyan's voice was almost hesitant, lacking in the certainty that it usually held. She stared at Cassandra as if she was the most important person in Thedas, and Cassandra… wasn't certain what to do with that.

So she did the only thing she could think of doing.

"No."

She ran.

The door shut behind her, putting a physical barrier between herself and Trevelyan, and that was that. Cassandra had made her choice. What was done was done, and there was no going back.

And why is it impossible, exactly?

Cassandra's mind flashed back to a few days earlier, Trevelyan shifting nervously in the background as Varric handed over the newest chapter of his book. To the smile that had lit up her face when Cassandra had thanked her for going to the trouble.

You intend to properly court me? You, of all people?

Maker damn her, but she wanted to say "yes".

Cassandra glanced back at the door, still firmly closed. She could keep walking and not turn back. She should do that. There were so many reasons to say "no". Trevelyan was the Herald of Andraste. The Inquisitor. A woman. Any of those alone would be enough to give her pause. All of them? That was enough to send anyone fleeing in fear.

And yet.

"Is that what you want?"

Cassandra closed her eyes. She took a deep breath. And then she turned and headed back through the door.

She was many things. But she'd be damned if she gave anyone reason to call her a coward. Even herself.

"I take it back. That is what I want."