Chapter 4

Cassandra followed Iron Bull silently into camp, the soldiers breaking off to tend to their wounds, and held back the Herald's tent flap for him. He ducked to avoid gouging holes in the canvas with his horns and carefully laid her on her cot, stepping back to eye her seriously. "I think this is something you need to do, Seeker."

"What are you talking about?"

"Take care of her." Without another word, the massive Qunari wandered over to the fire and stood near it beneath the cover of a three sided shelter that kept the rain off the soldiers.

Cassandra scrutinized him but, when it became apparent he wouldn't look her way, shook her head and ducked inside the tent. Vivienne followed her and set her staff aside as they knelt on opposite sides of the rogue, watching her breathe for a moment and allowing the last vestiges of adrenaline to wear off. Cassandra's shoulders sagged and her armor suddenly felt heavy, stifling in the relative warmth inside.

"We should remove her armor first, Seeker."

"Yes, of course." Cassandra set to work as Vivienne prepared a paste from herbs she'd grabbed outdoors, unbuckling Trevelyan's armor and pulling it away from her chainmail gently. The leathers she wore over her chest and torso were singed in places, small holes dotting the otherwise maintained armor. Her right pauldron was a melted mess of metal, unsalvageable for even repairs. Cassandra felt bile rise when she struggled to pull it away and Trevelyan twitched, moaning quietly. "Vivienne…"

"Yes, it seems quite stuck, doesn't it?" Vivienne circled the mangled pauldron, index finger slipping beneath the edge briefly. "I think the heat melted it to her skin. We need to remove it before I can do anything." She dug through her pack and pulled a small, slim knife out, inspecting the edge as Cassandra paled, hands white knuckled on her thighs. "Even unconscious, she will struggle. I cannot do anything for that unfortunately, the ability is beyond my ken, so you must hold her still, my dear. Can you do that?" Vivienne stared at her seriously, her normally superior attitude absent for the moment.

Cassandra nodded resolutely and straddled Trevelyan's waist, sitting on her thighs and pressing her hands against her chest, trapping the rogue's hands against her hips with her knees. "I am ready."

"Keep a firm hand, Seeker." Vivienne pulled the pauldron as far away as she could and the knife slipped under, her face a mask of concentration as she began her work. Trevelyan moaned louder and weakly struggled, eyes screwed shut as skin was separated from metal. As Vivienne continued working, her writhing increased and Cassandra sat more firmly on her hips, tightening her grip to keep her arms from moving and keeping her pinned to the cot.

"Almost there, just another minute, dear…" The mage's voice was strained as she cut skin, a deep furrow appearing between her brows as her other hand lifted the ruined pauldron higher to cut the last of burnt skin away. By the time she tossed the armor into a corner, tears were falling from the corner of Trevelyan's eyes, her breath was coming harshly, and she was paler than normal.

Vivienne pushed a rag under her shoulder so the newly bleeding wound wouldn't stain her cot and sat back, staring at her bloody hands with distaste. "Times like these make me wish Solas were here instead, he is so much more adept with this craft than I."

Cassandra swallowed and tore her eyes away from the Herald's trembling body, meeting Vivienne's eyes flatly. "He insisted on staying in Haven to do research on this Elder One we've heard so much about. Can you heal her?"

"Of course, my dear, I may not be as proficient as our elven mage, but I can do this much." Her hands glowed faintly green, reminiscent of the mark currently sleeping beneath Trevelyan's skin, and she paused over her shoulder. "It will leave a scar though, I'm afraid. Burns are beyond my ken, but I can stop the bleeding at the very least."

"Do it."

With a nod, Vivienne pressed her palms to the open wound and shut her eyes, focusing on the magic thrumming beneath her skin. She murmured indecipherably under her breath, hands fluttering at the ragged edges of skin, and Cassandra watched the wound slowly weave together. When Vivienne pulled away, Trevelyan's shoulder was whole but the area that had been burnt was a lighter color than the rest of her skin, a sunburst pattern indelibly marking the area.

"Now, for the rest of her. Help me disrobe her?"

Cassandra carefully slid off the rogue's hips and held her upright as the mage slid her chainmail over her head, followed by her tunic and the belt containing her poisons, throwing knives, and her tonfas, then laid her back down and pulled her boots and greaves off. When Trevelyan was down to her breeches and breast binding, Vivienne ghosted her hands over her body, hands glowing once more.

"There are many small cuts, those are no problem. The biggest injuries she sustained are the wound on her shoulder, this lovely mark on her chin," gesturing at the dried blood lining her jaw and throat, "and a few more small burns on her side and her forearms." She began healing the worst injuries silently before closing the minor wounds efficiently. "Now, if that's all, dear, you may want to clean her up and let her sleep. Do you need any healing?"

"No, I am unharmed." Vivienne nodded and picked up her staff, pausing when Cassandra said quietly, "Thank you, Vivienne."

"You are welcome, my dear. Take care of her."

The mage swept out of the tent, leaving Cassandra with a curious frown. She grabbed a clean rag and wet it in a bucket sitting outside the tent, returning to kneel beside the rogue. As she cleaned the dried blood from Trevelyan's skin, Cassandra marked each scar, small and large, that dotted her body from her time before the Inquisition. Her skin was dotted with freckles, clusters gathering on her shoulders and disappearing beneath her chest binds, and Cassandra found they continued over her lightly muscled stomach before scattering across her hips.

She shook herself out of her staring contest with the velvet soft looking skin beneath Trevelyan's navel and felt heat burst in her cheeks. "She is your superior, Cassandra, you cannot feel this…" She muttered to herself as she dunked the rag in the bucket again, removing the blood and wringing it out to clean her face. She gently washed the blood from her throat and ghosted the rag over her chin until she was certain the wound was closed completely.

As her free hand cupped the rogue's cheek to keep her head still, she found herself caught by the softness of her skin and paused, thumb sweeping over the arch of her cheekbone absently. Trevelyan hummed and shifted and Cassandra startled, freezing in place and staring wide eyed at the Herald until she was certain the woman was only moving in sleep and not waking up. "Get a hold of yourself…" She brusquely finished cleaning the blood from Trevelyan's skin and stooped for a blanket, discarded on a chest. As she covered the rogue, she slowed again and only reluctantly left the tent, walking into the rain and coming to stand next to her companions under the shelter by the fire.

"How's Boss doing?"

"Sleeping for the moment, I believe."

"Good, sounded like she was hurting there for a while." Cassandra's head whipped around to Bull and he pointed at his ears. "These aren't just for show, Seeker. I hear a lot."

His eyes twinkled knowingly and Cassandra felt herself flush again, anger and embarrassment coloring her skin in equal measure. "You – you did not-"

"I did. Don't worry, I won't say anything, but you two are the most infuriating women I've ever had the pleasure of meeting, you know?"

"There is nothing to say! What are you insinuating?"

Cassandra's eyes narrowed in warning and Bull only grinned, pulling his cloak around his shoulders. "I'm not insinuating anything, Seeker. I'm saying you two need to be locked in a room to figure your…issues, out. I can help with that if you want. You see, you just push her onto the bed, and then-"

"Shut your mouth, Qunari," Cassandra hissed, leaving the shelter and stalking to the far side of camp as Bull began laughing. She avoided the tent holding the Herald with obstinate fury, willing the Maker to strike down The Iron Bull, or at least remove his remaining eye.