Once they were inside, Morrigan closed the door behind them. She watched in silence as Cassandra slumped onto one of the crates, the Seeker deliberately avoiding her eyes. She seemed drained of her anger, and instead, a strange melancholy had taken its place. The only sign of life in her limp body was the way her fingers drummed nervously on top of her thighs. Judging by the dark bruises beneath her eyes, Morrigan suspected she hadn't slept well since their return to Skyhold.

Although it was contrary to her nature, she felt strangely compelled to offer Cassandra comfort. She didn't have much experience with reassuring people, but seeing the Seeker in such a disheveled, hopeless state was almost upsetting. What is becoming of me? she wondered, brow furrowing as she studied the warrior's drawn, pale face. The slashing scar across her cheek stood out even more than usual. Soon I shall be as horrible as the Warden, offering embraces and rescuing kittens from trees.

"Well?" Cassandra sighed, looking up at her with tortured eyes. "Why did you bring me here? Surely you have some kind of unsatisfying explanation prepared."

Morrigan waited for Cassandra's tone to annoy her, but instead of sounding rude, it only came across as defeated. "My explanation is simpler than you might think. Due to your intense dislike of me..." Cassandra gave a rough snort, and Morrigan rolled her eyes. "You needn't scoff, Seeker. 'Tis more than obvious that your opinion is even less favorable than it was before. As I was saying, you might imagine that a person such as myself has no friends to consult with. You would be mistaken."

It was Cassandra's turn to roll her eyes. "You would have me believe that you talked to Leliana because of your prior friendship? I thought the two of you couldn't stand each other."

"We have our differences," Morrigan admitted, "But the two of us have developed a wary, mutual trust as well. We have a shared past, a history of which you possess only a rudimentary understanding. I thought it wise to seek her council in this matter."

Some of Cassandra's energy returned. She abandoned her slouched pose and pushed up off the crate, surging forward a few steps. The move brought their faces close together in the tight confines of the storeroom, but Morrigan held her ground. She would not be moved by Cassandra's anger. In fact, she considered it a great improvement on her previous sulking.

"Is that all it was to you? A silly matter to gossip about like some Chantry novice?"

"T'was hardly gossip," she said, ignoring the fast thud of her heart. Having Cassandra so close brought back uncomfortably intense memories. "I am being sincere with you. I needed council, so I sought it from one of the rare people I have grown to trust."

"And why would you need council?" Cassandra snapped. Her eyes narrowed to slits, and her upper lip peeled back over her teeth. She looked like a cornered animal, terrified enough to lash out even though she was the one on the offensive. "It was just bodies. Nothing unusual. Isn't that what you told me in the Western Approach?"

Morrigan hesitated. She did not want to reveal her own conflicted emotions - even she did not fully understand them - but she saw no other way. Perhaps actions would prove more useful than words. She wrapped a firm hand around the back of Cassandra's neck, dragging her down until their lips collided.

If Cassandra was surprised, it didn't show at first. Her body reacted as if she had been expecting the kiss all along. An eager tongue pushed between her lips, and a split second later, Morrigan found herself pinned to the nearest wall. She raked her nails along Cassandra's scalp and seized the Seeker's shirt with her free hand, determined to retain at least some control over the situation. It was something she wanted, maybe even needed, but part of it still frightened her for reasons her mind as yet couldn't grip.

Her body had a clearer sense of what it was doing. Cassandra's hands ran underneath her shirt and up her sides. Even before they reached the swell of her breasts, Morrigan felt her nipples contact was finally made, she moaned softly into the Seeker's mouth, annoyed at herself for reacting so strongly, but unable to stifle the sound. All she could do was grip the other woman tighter, clutching at Cassandra's back and head. Lust was pooling between her legs, and her inner muscles fluttered at the thought that the Seeker's strong fingers would soon be pressed inside her again. The sharpness of this want was like nothing she could remember, and even without the power of the artifact, Morrigan felt as if she were under a spell.

And then, without warning, Cassandra pulled back. Her hands withdrew from beneath Morrigan's clothes, and she yanked herself out of the embrace they had been locked in. "I cannot do this," the Seeker insisted as she did her best to readjust her rumpled shirt.

"You cannot?" The sudden loss of sensation was intensely frustrating, leaving in its wake a surge of anger. "Tis most obvious that you can. What you mean is that you will not, and I would have your reasons for teasing me like this."

Cassandra shook her head, though the target of her irritation was unclear. "I mean that I cannot do this to myself. I don't want you to have such an effect on me, but you do. What happened in those ruins has been plaguing me ever since."

"So I am a plague then? I am not sure 'tis worse than being an apostate, but I dislike it all the same." She wasn't sure why Cassandra's rejection was having such a profound effect on her. Caring about the opinions of others was something she studiously avoided, and this ridiculous exchange was reminding her why that was a wise decision. If only I could hold to my resolve.

"You are twisting my words. That is not what I said." Cassandra's fists clenched in frustration and her brow furrowed. She stepped forward again, seemingly prepared to launch into another verbal assault, but as suddenly as it had flared, her anger seemed to evaporate. Her body slackened, and when she spoke again, she sounded older and wearier than her years. "I cannot simply dismiss what we did as a matter of the flesh, no matter how you or anyone else might counsel me, and since your feelings on that matter are clear, I cannot do it again either."

Morrigan opened her mouth to reply, but words failed to come out. Things were not as simple as Cassandra was portraying them, but if she couldn't sort out in her own mind what she was feeling, what explanation could she offer someone else? The Seeker kept looking at her though, clearly wanting some kind of answer, and so Morrigan said the only thing she thought might help. "I spoke to Leliana because I was not sure if you were hurt, and I thought she might have some notion as to your feelings. How was I to know that you had not spoken of this with her yet?"

Cassandra looked away from her, clearly taken aback by her words. "I… thank you for you concern. But my point stands. I cannot do this, whatever my desires might be."

She turned to leave, and as the Seeker walked out of the storeroom with her shoulders slumped low, the urge to say more hit Morrigan with unexpected force. She had not told the whole truth moments earlier. Though she had been truly, and inexplicably, concerned about Cassandra, she had also had more selfish reasons for speaking with Leliana the previous day.

The Seeker was not the only one whose thoughts had lingered on their encounter in the desert, and Morrigan had hoped that talking with someone else might help to clarify her own feelings. Instead, she remained as baffled as ever, knowing only that the sight of Cassandra's pain was causing an uncomfortable knot in her stomach, even while their aborted encounter had left a lingering ache between her legs.

The sound of profuse swearing made Herah look up from the book she had been reading. Normally, the interruption would have put her on edge. It wasn't often that she managed to steal a spare moment to herself, and Varric's latest offering was very entertaining. But she recognized the spitting, cursing voice at the other end of the garden without even looking up, and so she set her book aside with a small sigh and no complaints. "Sera?" she called out, standing up from the bench and heading over to the small figure she could see pacing by the stairs. "Sera, are you all right?"

Sera didn't even seem to register her approach. Instead, she continued fuming, stomping back and forth and occasionally throwing up her hands. "Frigging looney pissrag shiteface. What does she think she's playing at, slamming me against a wall like some bug? I've a mind to take that bloody great sword of hers and shove it straight up her arsehole 'til it gives her another scar on the other side of her stupid face..."

"Well, that explains who she's talking about," Herah muttered to herself. When Sera still didn't acknowledge her presence, she decided to wait it out. Her lover's rage was fierce, but it was also mercifully brief most of the time. If she listened, she might also get a better idea of what Cassandra had done to infuriate Sera so.

"... where does she get off, blaming me for that snobby witch's gossip? Should have realized her mouth was as big as her stupid tits. And if Cassandra would stop drooling over 'em and pull her face away from her cunt long enough to ask me my side of things, I wouldn't have a bloody headache from cracking it against the frigging wall!"

Herah had to stifle a snort of laughter at the implausible statement. She knew she shouldn't be so amused by Sera's unhappiness, or by whatever fresh awkwardness Cassandra and Morrigan had undoubtedly suffered, but she couldn't help herself. "I don't think Cassandra's mouth could reach both at the same time," she said, but Sera continued to rage.

"I thought I hated the two of 'em before, but now they're just frigging unbearable! Maybe I shouldn't shove Cassandra's sword up her arse. Maybe I should get Morrigan to use that twisty staff of hers. But no, the High and Mighty Seeker would prob'ly enjoy that. At least it would keep them away from me! D'rather go back in the Fade than..."

At last, Herah succeeded in stopping Sera's tirade, but only by grabbing her shoulders and forcing eye contact. "Sera, why don't you calm down and tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help. Did Cassandra do something to upset you?"

"Upset? Do I look upset, Inky?" Sera snapped, eyes flashing. "Oh yeah, Cassandra and I are best pals now, no sour feelings between us at all! She only roughed me up and blamed me for telling people about what happened when it was really Morrigan's bloody fault. Real winning behavior, yeah?"

Herah let out a long sigh. She supposed pretending that everything would return to normal without any effort on her part had been naive. "I'll talk to her," she promised, giving Sera's shoulders a reassuring squeeze. "She shouldn't have accused you without any proof. Even if she did suspect you of telling people about what we saw, she should have come to me first."

"I actually kept quiet about it," Sera said, and Herah was surprised to catch a small tremor in her voice. When she looked down, Sera's eyes were much brighter than usual, and her lower lip was shaking. "I know everyone here thinks I'm a joke, but I don't do pranks that hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it, and I don't break promises." Her brow knitted, and her mouth tugged into a frown. "But maybe I should have after what they did."

She pulled Sera into her arms, giving her a hug and placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Well, I'm still proud of you, even if those two didn't appreciate your restraint."

Sera took the opportunity to bury her face in Herah's cleavage, her mood seeming to improve as she nuzzled closer. "Appreciate that, Inky. Still, though, we gotta do something about those jerks."

"Yeah, but what? Normally, I'd say they need to get laid, but in this case, that's more the problem than the solution."

Sera laughter vibrated pleasantly against her breasts. "Heh, yeah. Most people, a proper boffing makes 'em get nice and cheery. Miss Prissy Pants and Spooky Skank just got mopier and more pissed off than usual."

Herah joined in on the laughter. "That's true. But I think the mood-improving qualities of sex may work better if you're not horribly embarrassed about what you did afterwards."

Her words elicited a derisive snort. "Stupid tits are always embarrassed by the wrong stuff. Stealing from little people or having shoes with gold buckles on 'em while everybody else's starving is the bad shit. Shagging is good." Sera threw her a naughty look, her tongue running over her lips. "'Specially with you, Inky. But even with them, 's not bad. I mean, sure, it was a bloody stupid spot for it, but whatever. No need to go slamming folks around just 'cause you got off on the floor."

Herah cupped her chin, stroking it with a large hand. "Hm, you know, that's not a bad point. I wonder if…."

"Wonder what?"

"Well, let's say you're right. Maybe what those two need is to get past their their awkwardness. I mean, we know they wanted each other. If we could find a way to make them work out their problems and get together for real, it might put them in a better mood."

Sera's eyes widened incredulously. "Wait, you want us to fix them up? That's daft. Those two are completely stupid hopeless." She paused, a range of emotions cycling across her face. "No, wait. It's bloody brilliant. This'll be the best caper yet."

Herah grinned. "That's what I'm thinking. Of course, for a job this big, we're going to need some help…"