Cullen realized too late that he had no idea what lay behind the doors, but it didn't matter as Cassandra once again knew exactly where she was going. They arrived in a long hallway that split at the end and was lined with thick doors on each side. Her eyes flicked to colored signs that framed each one as he followed her, his own eyes straying from the walls to the curve of her hips as she walked. Eventually she settled on one that looked no different from the rest. He was just starting to wonder how she knew so much about this place when she pulled the door open with force.

He followed her again, closing the door behind him. His inventory of the room - a low bed, a side table, and a cabinet with unknown contents - was pleasurably interrupted when she pinned him against the newly closed door and kissed him with a fire that scattered any other thoughts away.

The wood was cool on his fevered back as he grabbed at her roughly. She was so warm, slick and sweaty under his palms, and his hands dipped below the waistband of her pants to cradle her ass while he ground himself against her. Maker he was hard, so ready to bury himself inside her, and they'd only just begun. Her mouth was greedy on his, all sliding tongue and panting breath as she tried to pour herself into him.

He groaned when she abandoned her questing of his mouth to range down his neck, licking and biting until he was shaking on his feet. "Cassandra," he whispered, releasing his grip to give her better access to his jaw, his shoulder, his chest. He tugged on the hem of her shirt instead, and she lifted her arms to aid him even while she continued to taste and bruise his skin. "Oh sweetheart, how I've missed you."

She bit into the join of his shoulder hard enough to make him gasp and ran her hand across the front of his trousers. He closed his eyes and leaned back, fighting desperately to control himself as she confirmed exactly how much she'd been missed. She relented when he let out a strangled cry, and she pressed her hips against his once more. Her lips traveled back up his neck to ghost across his ear. "You're so eager. Have you not been caring for yourself, my husband?"

Cullen growled and grabbed her around the waist, flipping their positions so quickly she couldn't react. She hissed in a breath as he slammed her against the door, though he put a protective hand behind her head even in his haze. He pressed a leg in between her own to keep her still. "We released each other," he said before claiming her mouth once again.

She rode the hard muscle of his thigh while he plundered her mouth, and when he broke for air she ran a hand down his back. "You released me," she said stubbornly, still moving against him with shuddery waves. "I was not so foolish as to let you go."

He snarled, but she silenced him with another roll of her hips. He rested his head on the door beside her, letting her use him as she would while his fingers traced what skin he could find. "You did not answer my question," she said through a moan.

What had she asked him? His thoughts were heavy and slow, but eventually he remembered and smiled where she couldn't see. "Not enough," he said. At Skyhold he'd been too numb, and traveling tents were no place for such self-care. Only a few stolen moments in palaces, dreaming of her in her Lothering gown, dragging it up over her hips while she clutched at him. Taking her swiftly and quietly while the rest of the world danced obliviously around them…

"Did you?" he asked, slipping his free hand forward to cup her breast. Her nipple hardened immediately, and her head tilted back as he toyed with it. He took the opportunity to plant open-mouth kisses down her neck, wringing even more pleasure out of her.

"Yes," she said. "So often… every night since we've arrived. Always thinking of your hands, your mouth, your…"

He smiled when she trailed off, and he whispered in her ear once more. "Especially that, I hope." His length was pressed against her hip so tightly she could have no doubt of what he meant.

She nodded vigorously and turned to kiss him once more with undisguised passion. By the sounds she was making she was getting close, and he pulled himself away from her before she found a release that he wanted to drag out of her in another way. She struggled against the loss of contact, but he stilled her with a look and yanked her breeches down in one swift movement. When he ran a finger over her smallclothes they were wet and soaked, and he smirked at her whimper. "Obviously it wasn't enough," he said.

"No," she whispered. "Only you are."

Oh sweet Maker. "Get on the bed," he said roughly.

She complied quickly, stepping out of her puddled pants with the grace that only Cassandra had. Her legs were long and toned, beautiful marble when she sat on the edge of the bed. When he glanced down at her hips she understood and wiggled out of her smalls with a knowing half-smile. She dragged a finger along her slit as she leaned back, and he drew in a deep breath.

His cock was straining against his pants but he knelt down in front of her instead. One kiss to her breast, then one to the other, then a final one pressed in the valley between them. He looked up at her face, eager and flushed, and there was no humor in him when he said, "I'm going to make you beg for me."

He wasted no time in working his lips down her, kissing her as she fell back against the bed. When he reached her hips he paused, kissing the inner flesh of one thigh and then the other, smelling the familiar scent of her arousal until she writhed and keened. He laughed against her skin. "So impatient…"

But he was no less, and his tongue slipped over her easily. She jerked when he found her entrance, even more when he lapped up against the place that was the true center of her pleasure. There he took his time, lavishing his attentions before dipping back to taste her once more. Her moans were coming quicker and louder, and her hand found his hair to hold him in place. "Don't stop," she commanded, and he smiled and went after her in earnest. He tilted his head just right and sucked and licked until she screamed her release, clenching and spasming around him.

Cullen waited for her to subside, rubbing a soothing hand along her thigh and kissing the other one tenderly as it trembled. When her breath was just starting to return, right before she was drawing in another to speak, he locked his mouth back onto her sensitive skin.

It brought exactly the reaction he was hoping for. Her back arched up off the bed as she gasped, and he chased her hips as they moved, digging his fingers deep into them to draw her back to him.

"Cullen," she said desperately, accusingly, as soon as she could breathe, and he let her go for a brief minute to look at her face. Her expression was torn between outrage and lust, her eyes wild, pupils blowing them even darker than they usually were.

He looked at her meaningfully. "You didn't beg," he said, and a stubborn, utterly Cassandra look fell across her expression. She would fight him, but this was a bout he would win.

When he went back to his task this time his fingers joined. He crooked two of them inside her lazily, sweetly, moving them in quiet rhythm while his mouth worked. He held her on the edge, using the moans he knew so well to pull back at the exact moment she was chasing another peak. Each rise and fall was a little steeper, a little harder to travel, and eventually she was cursing him for his teasing.

"You know what I want," he said implacably when he backed away, fingers still inside of her. He pressed a third to her entrance, and she thrust against it needfully until he curled it back once more.

"Please," she said then. "Please."

He looked up at her beautiful face, her eyes closed in wanting. "Please what?" he whispered.

"Please make me come," she said. "For you. Just you. Forever. Please let me. I love you so much."

He groaned and obliged. His fingers slid faster, his tongue danced across her, and her second scream was mingled with his own low cry of love. He crawled up onto the bed as she shuddered, shedding his pants with an impatient hand.

When she finally came back to herself, it was in his arms, with his face pressed against her neck. She heaved in shaking breaths and clung to him. After she'd regained some semblance of control, he leaned back to look at her face. Her eyes were bright with emotions too deep to speak, and he didn't ask her to.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, as tenderly as he could given the desperation of his own need.

"Always," she said. "Take me, my love."

He didn't hesitate, propping himself over her and pushing forward in one swift stroke. She cried out, but it was joy and not pain so he held himself in place and breathed. She'd never felt so warm or inviting, and a small part of him thought that it was almost worth the long drought, almost worth all of the lonely nights, to feel her this intensely once more.

Maybe too intensely. He felt himself losing control. "Cassandra," he said urgently. "I need… I want…"

She understood. Somehow, when they were like this, she always knew what he was looking for and gave it to him unfailingly. "Cullen," she said, silky voice like trailing fingers across his flesh. "Harder. Please." And it wasn't begging now, though she made it sound like it. It wasn't permission, though she'd given it. It was command, telling him that his wants were her orders, and that was when his mind vanished into the twanging nerves sheathed between her thighs. The rest was images and smells, feelings and sounds that had no order but were beautiful in their chaos.

He pulled out and drove back into her with frightening strength. She met him, again and again, and he was gripping her shoulders and pulling, and she had her hands over her head to steady against the wall, absorbing the force of his movements. Her soap was there, and the sweat of them both, raw and animal. He heard moans and pleas and realized they were his. He was the one begging now, for more, for her, for everything he'd only had in dreams for far too long.

The tight heat of her around him. The way she arched and twisted while he moved. The leg he'd taken over his shoulder to give him access to deeper and more secret places inside of her. And the explosion, the magic behind the eyes and under the skin that could never exist without her.

When he blinked the room back into his vision, she was staring at him with a solemn beauty that took his breath away all over again. He collapsed over her and let her hold him, touching in every place they could possibly connect. His lips sought hers and they kissed like lovers who'd just come home. He tried to get closer, to put all he was into her and take her back in return. Two becoming one. Married in the soul.

Eventually they had to breathe, and he realized how tightly he was still holding her. He pushed himself up on his elbow, releasing her shoulder. He winced when he saw the white marks of his fingers and the promise of bruises. And he paled at the aching look she couldn't hide when he slipped out of her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, ashamed.

"A little," she said. She was always honest. "But it was an enjoyable pain."

She rolled her shoulders experimentally and rose up to him once more. But this kiss was comfort, something outside of them both, and he felt the acceptance she wanted him to have. Peace threaded through his shame until there was nothing left of it but memory.

They lay in silence for a time, until she said reluctantly, "There will be water outside for washing."

He kissed her swiftly once more, then rose to follow the unspoken command. He pulled his breeches back on and opened the door to find the promised water, as well as his folded shirt. He took the last with a scowl, and when he turned back Cassandra was sitting up and watching him. Her hair was tousled and wild, and she was still completely bare. "If only I were fifteen years younger…" he said longingly.

"I prefer an experienced, talented man," she said.

"Oh really? Where is he?"

She shook her head with an exasperated expression that was only partially faked, and he laughed lightly. "Come here, sweetheart. Let's get clean."

There were rags for cleaning and a basin to catch the water, and they spent an enjoyable time washing the grime and sweat from each other. Cullen definitely wasn't fifteen years younger, and he was more than spent, but that didn't mean he couldn't relish his hands sliding over her smoothness just a little while longer. She did the same, trailing kisses behind them on his newly clean skin, and he relaxed into the love in them. Cassandra also delighted in running her hands through his hair, which soothed him almost to the point of insensibility.

After awhile he pulled away. "You'll put me to sleep, and I assume these rooms aren't meant for overnight stays."

"No," she said. "We are reaching the upper limit of propriety, actually. Generally this is a quick experience."

"Nothing about it is quick when I'm involved," he said haughtily, and she smacked his arm before finding her clothes. His arrogance changed to speculation. "How do you know so much about these rooms? You were a child when you left."

"They are discussed quite openly in society. And I've been back to Nevarra before. There are training halls in many places, and I like to train," she said. "And of course, when we were children, we often dared one another to sneak into them. We probably spent more time in the back halls than the fighters themselves, in the end." She looked back at him suddenly, expression wary. "Though I've only been back to Nevarra alone once since I met you."

"And did you find the back halls with him?" he asked. He hated himself for asking, but she would hate him more for harboring secret fears.

She shook her head. "No," she said. "It would not have been fair. I loved another," she added with a small smile.

Another piece of his heart cleared and set free. "He told me that you turned down another proposal on that trip. For me. Before I even knew I could love you this much," he said. "Do you regret it?"

"Never," she said. "And I did not turn him down for you, no matter what he may believe. You were a piece of the whole, and you were always important, but I wanted the Inquisition. I wanted to serve the Divine. I wanted to build something, not stand beside someone as they built it for me. I wished to be Cassandra, not a Pentaghast."

Cullen nodded his understanding. "You know he tempted us into this on purpose," he said. "I think he's trying to show me what a life with you as his Queen might offer."

"And?" Her tone was curiosity, not challenge.

"This was wonderful," he said "And empty. Giving myself to you only in hidden rooms after the dozens of eyes were on us both won't last. It might be enough, I suppose, if I didn't know what it was like to wake up with you every morning. But I do. This can't even come close."

She sighed. "Yes," she said. She crossed the room again, fully clothed but still as alluring as she'd ever been, and kissed him once more. He wound his arms around her and closed his eyes. When she pulled away, she added, "Nevertheless, it was quite wonderful."

The memory of them sustained him over the next few days, though he didn't like the smug look in Dmitri's eyes. The prince clearly thought he'd won a battle, and perhaps he had, but he didn't understand the overall lay of the campaign. He was no general, for all he fought so well. Putting an enemy into position was worthless unless one's own position was secure.

Cullen knew, as Dmitri never would, that no position was ever truly secure. And Cassandra was the Arbor Wilds, where the battlefield itself was more dangerous than the fight.

Still, he was recalling their more pleasurable moments once more before he drifted to sleep when a knock came at the door. He tried to quiet his rising heart to no avail, and he was disappointed when he opened it on Solas's unsmiling face. But when the elf said, "It's time," a different sort of hope appeared. Cullen took in the strange, rough clothes he was wearing, dark in color and loose around him. Only his shoe-less feet and the wolf's tooth remained from his typical attire. He was dressed for travel.

"You've learned something?"

"Yes. We must go now. Cole is gathering the horses outside the gates."

Cullen stared. "Now? In the middle of the night?" he asked. Suspicion bloomed. "Is Cassandra coming?"

"The primary diplomat cannot sneak out of the palace in the middle of the night to steal an artifact from the Nevarran forest," said Solas patiently. "She knew that we might leave without warning."

"But they'll see that we're missing. Vestalus will see. She might be in danger if they suspect us of exactly what we're doing. Or worse."

"She knew that as well." The elf breathed out slowly. "She is well-protected, Commander. And I need you to come with me. You told Ellana you wished to help."

He did. He would. But to leave her, now… Cullen sighed. "Ten minutes. For me to say goodbye to her. Please," he said.

The violet in Solas's eyes flashed into something darker, but he nodded. "Ten minutes. Don't be late."

Cassandra wasn't in her room.

Cullen knocked on the door fruitlessly, trying to think where she might have gone. Dmitri's room, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, but he shook that away. She wasn't there. Perhaps a balcony, for the night air, the kitchens, or even in the training yard fighting against a still dummy. But there wasn't time to search them all.

And then there wasn't time to search even one after he ran into Darren and Dorian going around a corner. The mage raised his eyebrows. "In a hurry, Commander?"

"I'm looking for Cassandra," he said. "Have you seen her?"

Dorian shook his head, but Darren was looking him up and down appraisingly. "Going somewhere?"

Cullen wore his own travel clothes, rough and comfortable, and his mind stuttered on the unexpected question. "Just taking a walk," he said, lamely, and both men raised skeptical eyebrows.

"Did the spirit learn what he needed?" asked Darren.

Dorian perked up when Cullen nodded. "We should get going, then," said the mage.

"No," said Cullen quickly. "Just Solas and I. We can't all leave. It will put Cassandra in a bad position."

"Commander, I'm disappointed in our lack of intimacy after these long years. You must know I would never allow you to go off and have all the fun without me," said Dorian.

Darren frowned and placed his hand on Dorian's arm. "Don't be stupid. It might be dangerous. You shouldn't go," he said. "But I will. Whatever this is, Cullen, you can't walk into it alone. You'll need another sword."

Cullen and Dorian both protested, but the mage was the one who captured Darren's attention. "I realize our own intimacy has only just begun," he said, stepping closer to his lover. "So I will forgive you for not knowing that I find danger delightful. Almost as delightful as I find you."

Dorian slid his hand around Darren's neck, and Darren narrowed his eyes. "That's not fair," he said, even as his own hands settled on the mage's hips.

"I must admit I've never been known for playing fairly. It so often leads to losing."

"I don't want you to get hurt," said Darren.

Dorian smiled. "I won't. But more to the point, this is my cause, not yours," he said. He kissed Darren tenderly, and Cullen glanced away from the raw, vulnerable look on his brother's face when they broke apart. Dorian breathed a little more deeply, but his voice was steady. "You shouldn't risk yourself for it. I will go, and you will remain."

"No," said Darren, shaking his head in familiar mulishness. The Rutherfords had never been known to be compliant. Though they'd always been known to take too many blows on themselves. "If you go, I go. I won't risk myself for your cause, but I will protect you."

"Darren," began Dorian, but the soldier silenced him with another kiss.

"Don't argue," he whispered. "You're not careful enough. You need me."

The mage smiled. "I suppose I do at that." He turned back to Cullen. "Well, Commander, it seems you have two new recruits. Shall we meet you at the gates?"

When Cullen shook his head, Dorian lost some of his playfulness. "You don't have time to fight with us. And short of beating us senseless, you have no way to stop us. Whatever this is, better to have too many instead of too few," he said. "We'll meet you there."

The two men headed to their rooms to change, but Cullen grabbed Darren's arm as he passed. "You know, I could order you not to come. You're still under my command," he said.

"You don't trust me?" asked Darren.

"Of course I trust you. You're my brother. But someone needs to be here for Cassandra."

Darren laughed lightly. "Cassandra is here for herself. And her maid is deadly. More importantly, the prince might kill you, but he'd never allow her to be harmed," he said.

"You think Dmitri would kill me?" asked Cullen incredulously.

His brother shrugged. "Let's just say it wasn't your lieutenant's idea to have someone follow you when you wandered Cumberland. It would have been easy for you to have an accident," he said. "You're too trusting. It makes your men love you, and it makes you popular, but it leaves you vulnerable to those without scruples. Dmitri is a man who knows what he wants, and what he really wants is for you to stop existing."

"Perhaps, but there's a long way from that to murder," said Cullen, relaxing. He couldn't say he'd never had the same thought himself about Dmitri. Cullen could hardly blame him.

"It's not as far as you think," said Darren. "For me, I think you'd already be dead if he could figure out a way to do it without Cassandra knowing who was to blame. Which is another reason I'm coming along. You might be stodgy and humorless, but you're still my brother. And I don't trust any of them."

Cullen released his Darren's arm and shook his head. "When did you become a cynic? The Nevarrans all seem amiable enough."

Darren shifted uncomfortably. "Not them. The Inquisition. There's more going on than you know," he said. "At least, that's what I think. And Cassandra is the only one of them I'd leave you alone with when it mattered."

"You don't even trust Dorian?" asked Cullen teasingly.

No answering smile. "Oh, I'd trust him not to kill you," said Darren. "But there are other kinds of betrayals, and there I wouldn't trust him, with you, at all."

In the end, Cullen never found Cassandra, and Solas's face was thunderous when Dorian and Darren showed up right behind him. Cole silently went to gather their mounts as the elf held a whispered argument with Dorian. It didn't last long, and by the end the Tevinter man was smug and Solas resigned.

They all mounted quietly and rode off into the night, likely seen by some, but no one stopped them. When they were a sufficient distance from the palace and up into the plains, Cullen finally spoke. "Okay, Solas, what are we going after? We have to know something."

"There's a temple," he said. "In it, we'll find what I need."

"Which is?" asked Dorian. The elf glared at him, but he was unperturbed. "You admitted you needed me. Anything of the elves is magical, at least anything powerful enough to be worth having. It's time to tell me what I need to know."

"Very well," said Solas, grinding out the words. "It's a necklace. A talisman that will allow Ellana to hold the ancient power she carries safely."

Dorian's eyes narrowed. "You mean she's not carrying it safely now?"

"Not as much as it seems."

"I see," said Dorian. "And this necklace is sitting in a temple in the woods, and no one has ever found it. Or tried to retrieve it."

"I'm sure they have," said Solas. "But none have survived."

Darren snorted. "Wonderful," he said. "I always did like impossible odds."

They fell into silence again, each following their own internal paths. Cole rode up beside Cullen and placed a hand on his arm. "Cassandra will be okay," he said.

"I didn't get to see her," he whispered.

"She watched from the balcony. Five riders in the night. The fingers on a hand, reaching out to grasp the salvation of Thedas. She is proud. And she will love you until the sun burns itself to ashes in the sky," said Cole in faraway tones. He came back to earth with a frown. "She especially loves your tongue. But not because of talking. I don't understand that part."

Cullen felt his cheeks flame as Dorian choked back a laugh. The five fingers rode out under the cover of darkness, with Cole still asking what was so lovely about a tongue.