Hadiza had never been so happy to cross back into the Frostbacks, and ultimately back into Skyhold. It had become home to her, had become the point to which she fixed her very heart, and she couldn't believe how much she missed its familiar, ancient walls when she was away. The Western Approach was nearly secured, save for the few Venatori still scattered about. For that mission, she had taken Dorian specifically, along with Iron Bull, Blackwall, and Aja. In Griffon Wing Keep, Knight-Captain Rylen assured her that everything was under control, and both the Gates of Andoral and Toth were secured.
She'd been gone for two months.
Still, two months was better than the six she'd spent traipsing about the Hinterlands like a damned fool.
Argo, her dracolisk, seemed excited to be home as well, and she scratched the flexing spines along his long neck, smiling when he preened and chirped happily.
"I know," she spoke to the beast cheerily, "we're home. I'm sure Master Dennett will have a fattened lamb or goat waiting for you." As if in response to the promise of such delectable meats, the dracolisk let out a crooning screech, making Hadiza laugh, and her companions wince.
"How the hell does she put up with that thing?" Blackwall wondered. Aja rode alongside him on a painted mare with a strong gait.
"Same way she puts up with the rest of us, I'd imagine," Aja mused, "although how she looks at it is beyond me. Andraste's ass it's hideous."
Hadiza shot the pair a dark look.
"Don't insult my steed, Aja. Argo can still outpace your mounts any day, and your own horse would flag long before Argo felt the first burn in his lungs." Hadiza sniffed. Aja raised her brows.
"He's. Still. Ugly." She said slowly and the companions laughed, save Hadiza, who patted her mount on the neck, cajoling it and telling him to ignore the teasing. Argo seemed indifferent to it all, still focused on the promise of food.
Samson and Dagna were in the middle of another study when Hadiza walked in, still covered in dust from the long journey, but looking as cheerful as ever.
"Inquisitor!" Dagna greeted, "I take it your journey was pretty successful. Did you test that new enchantment I crafted you?"
"Yes!" Hadiza cried, seemingly ignoring Samson, who watched her from his prone position on the table, "It was magnificent. Completely increased the area of impact. Will have to work on making it last, however." Hadiza turned in a slow circle, taking a deep breath. Samson studied her. She was wearing her riding gear, and must have gone to her room to strip out of some of her clothing but he noticed that she was…tall. Her legs were long and shapely in the leather pants, vanishing into the knee-high greaves and boots. Her body was a study of sinuous lines and curves, and her hair, although dusty and dry, was clearly a mass of curls and waves. She turned and he glimpsed her profile. Long lashes, cresting on a high cheekbone, her mouth, a full and sensuous thing, shaped for making a man weak in his knees.
Maker, she was a sight for sore eyes if ever there was one.
"What are you up to today?" Hadiza asked, coming to stand over his table. She was close enough to touch. If Samson lifted his hand he could squeeze the curve of her hip, maybe feel how warm she was through her breeches. He took a deep breath, turning his head away. She smelled like spring, summer, and a bit of sweat. Her natural musk was…heady. He liked it, and he could only imagine what she looked like after a bath, all satin-skinned, wet, and soft.
Shit.
"Well, Sourpuss is actually being cooperative today," Dagna beamed, "managed to get some more samples. I still haven't cracked how he's resistant to red lyrium and he doesn't seem to know either. My guess is it has something to do with Corypheus. He's the only Templar that hasn't turned into a red lyrium monster so it's hard to say. His armor, however, that's something else."
Hadiza looked down at him, meeting his eyes.
"Your injuries seemed to have healed," she said gently, and Samson was suspicious of her disposition, "I hope you've been…comfortable while I've been away. I haven't received any distressing reports." Samson couldn't bring himself to hate her, not when her face was all soft and concerned like that, damn her gorgeous eyes. He sighed heavily through his nose.
"I'm as well as I can be, Inquisitor," was his only answer before he looked away. Hadiza hesitated, wondering what else there was to say.
"You've not been too rough with him, I hope," she said to Dagna, who waved her hand.
"Oh he's fiiiine. He doesn't really respond to anything painful, but the procedures are all one hundred percent safe, both for myself and for him. Would you like to watch?"
Samson balked, going rigid on the table. Was the dwarf serious? Hadiza let out a small laugh, clearly embarrassed.
"I think I'll manage without you having to do that. Just…keep working, I suppose. I need to see him when you're done here, so send him to the war room." Hadiza turned to leave after Dagna's murmured acquiescence, and Samson watched her go, feeling something in his belly flutter to pitiful life.
Shit.
The war room was spacious, more spacious than he expected. He felt smaller when he passed through the large double doors, felt even smaller when the three advisors spared him one look, all mingled with pity, disgust, and indifference. Hadiza was there too, but her back was to him and she was bent over the war table, scribbling on parchment. When the door shut behind him, she looked up, glancing over her shoulder.
"Oh good," she said as if she were welcoming an old friend, "you're here. Well, time to make good on your word, Samson."
Samson made his way toward the war table and glimpsed the true power of the Inquisition in miniature. Here was a map of all of Thedas, and what he assumed to be all of the missions accomplished by the group. It was both staggering and insulting. Staggering because there was no way such an organization could cover so much territory without considerable aid or bolstered numbers, and insulting because they considered him so little a threat that they trusted him to be privy to this information.
"I take it you want me to give up the locations of the remaining Red Templars." Samson said evenly, his eyes still on the map. Cullen crossed his arms, golden eyes turning hard, and it was all he could do to keep his lip from curling. His forced restraint gave Samson a sense of morbid satisfaction. Good. Let the coward be angry. The fact that he was standing next to the Commander's woman didn't serve to temper that satisfaction.
"Yes, you mentioned you needed a map," Cullen remarked in a half-growl, "and the Inquisitor said to wait until her return before we began. So begin."
Samson frowned, reached for one of the charcoal pieces, his hand brushing Hadiza's by accident. She did not snatch her hand away but simply moved to give him space. Samson knew the locations, knew where his men were spread, but they were men no longer. Still, he had given his word, and his word was that he'd tell the Inquisition whatever they wanted to know.
Samson began to mark the map in silence.
No one spoke while he worked, no one so much as coughed. The entire time Samson was unreasonably aware of Hadiza next to him, who crossed her arms beneath her breasts to watch. As more X's and accompanying circles appeared on the map, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
"Andraste's flaming sword," he heard Cullen swear beneath his breath. Josephine put a hand to her mouth in quiet disbelief, and Leliana simply narrowed her eyes. Hadiza's brows went up.
Samson put down the charcoal, not bothering to wipe his hands. The markings showed a pattern in the Red Templar camps, most of which were in Orlais, but all of them encroach on the lower end of the Frostbacks.
"Where were you planning on taking them?" Hadiza asked softly. Samson turned to look at her.
"Before you came to the Wilds and stopped me? We were going to march on Ferelden."
Hadiza sucked in a breath. They'd broken most of Corypheus' army before that, and Morrigan had drank from the Well of Sorrows. Hadiza was breathing deep. She let out a quiet swear.
"Alright," she said after regaining her composure, "so we can assume that most of the Templars are in the foothills of the Frostbacks by now, or scattered to the west." She turned to Samson, studying him. Samson used this as an excuse to look upon her face. She was bathed, her hair combed and pulled back away from her face. She had fine-boned features, high cheekbones, full lips, a straight but rounded nose, and eyes that tilted at the corners like a cat's. Maker but her eyes! They refused to match the rest of her; she was all dark skin and hair, but her eyes were like polished steel, pale and eerie, but expressive.
"Do you know where Corypheus may have fled?" She asked him and he was mesmerized by the way her mouth shaped the words. She was nobility, so she chose her word with care, tasted each syllable before it left her mouth.
"Can't say I do," he told her, "but if I were you, I wouldn't waste time lookin'. Elder One can't be found if he doesn't wanna be."
"That's the problem," Cullen cut in, "we need to know where he is or where he might head. Surely he had some form of contingency plan should the attempt for the eluvian fail?" Samson cut his eyes to Cullen briefly.
"That's the thing," he retorted, "he didn't expect to fail. Your being there was a minor concern, but the fact that you beat him at his own game? Well, I can't help you. He's an ancient darkspawn magister, he probably knows where to hide that even Sister Nightingale won't be able to look."
Leliana barely stirred at his address of her name.
Hadiza sighed.
"Well I guess we have to just hunt down the remaining Red Templars. Hopefully Corypheus is dumb enough to make a move soon. I want this foolishness over with." She rubbed her temples, blinking those pretty eyes in a way that made her look petulant.
"Alright Samson, you can go. I think…" She thought for a moment, "Commander can you provide him with a suitable escort?" Cullen blinked.
"Back to his cell? Certainly." He seemed to pleased with the prospect. Hadiza shook her head.
"Not what I meant. I think Samson can at least be put to work here at Skyhold instead of wasting away in a cell. I meant an escort to shadow him while he's free to roam the grounds."
Samson's eyes went a little wide. Cullen's face went ashen.
"What? Inquisitor you can't be serious. He's…"
"Our prisoner, I know," Hadiza said, "but he's been cooperative since we first brought him here. I don't see the harm in letting him be put to work at the very least."
Samson didn't like when folks spoke of him as if he weren't standing right fucking there in the room.
"I take it I don't get a choice in the matter?" He mused. "I'm fine in my cell."
"I'm not fine with it." Hadiza countered and he frowned at her rebuttal, "You can probably work in the stable for Master Dennett; he's in need of another hand. Josephine, make the arrangements, and Cullen get me a suitable escort for him."
"Inquisitor, I must prote—" Cullen began but Hadiza held up her hand.
"How can we expect to rehabilitate someone if we lock them up all the time? Samson gave us his word he'd cooperate. Well fuck it, give him a job to do other than lay in a dark cell waiting for us to come wring him for information."
Samson suppressed a wolfish grin as Cullen silently fumed. Hadiza was in his corner it looked like, but what her intentions were he wasn't entirely sure. She smiled at him, and it was a curious thing, a slight quirk to her mouth, as if she knew something he didn't.
"Samson, consider yourself conscripted to the Inquisition." She said to him and Samson, damn it all, felt that…that something shiver to life in his belly again.
You can't be fucking serious. He thought in disbelief. Butterflies?