They quarreled. Of course they had. Samson could see it on Hadiza's face from the moment he walked through the door. She was pacing, but it was not her measured gait she used when she was reading and thinking. No, this was the pace of a caged lioness, agitated and indignant.
"How dare he!" She snapped fiercely, "The absolute gall! To…to try and suggest that…" She couldn't get the words out so Samson waited, watching her. Her anger was beautiful. She was a storm encased in skin, sterling eyes flashing and crackling with lightning, her hair whipping with each turn of her head, hands moving in angry gestures as she laid out everything that was wrong with Cullen Stanton Rutherford that day.
And Samson couldn't help it: he fucking smiled.
"Trouble in paradise, princess?" He asked, taking too much pleasure in the fact that Cullen was likely setting fire to his own house out of some deep-seated resentment for a perceived slight. Hadiza whirled, the sleeves of her robe billowing out as her blade-edged gaze cut toward him. Samson stared right back, amused. The scrying room had become something of a sanctuary for her, and in some cases, for him. It was a place where he could sit quietly while Hadiza worked tirelessly to complete the project, offering his expertise when she struggled, and easing off when she was focused. Most times they did not speak, having fallen into that strange familiarity of companionship that needed few words.
"What did you…" She rubbed her temples, "Argh. I cannot deal with him this day. All over a simple spellcasting for fuck's sake! The man jumps at shadows when I've never given him cause to doubt me…why?" Her anger seemed to be spent and she deflated, looking exhausted. Samson sighed, taking an easy lean against the wall.
"He's got a right to fear, by my reckoning," Samson said and held up a hand at Hadiza's cutting look, "but if he's taking you to bed every night and still can't trust you as your entire self, then that's something he's going to have to work out on his own." He could have told her to leave him be. He could have easily said something along the lines of how he'd never make her suppress herself out of fear. Samson could understand Cullen's fear, given all that the man had been through, but his fear of Hadiza was grossly misguided. She skirted the line at times, but she played it safe. She knew her limits.
The fact that she revealed that she couldn't even be herself around Cullen galled him.
"I…" Hadiza stopped, turned in a circle, throwing up her hands, "I've tried to make him see. I've tried to…help him understand what I am. But every time I reach for my power I see him flinch. I see his face grow pale. It hurts me, and now he thinks I am delving too deeply in my magic." She held up her marked hand and Samson got a good look at the Anchor for the first time. It was a wound, of sorts, but instead of blood and gristle, there was the swirling green energy of the Fade. He knew because Corypheus had gone completely batshit when it was taken from him.
That was an experience he'd rather have forgotten.
"I walk around with this all the time," Hadiza said, "it hurts, but I don't complain. I've learned to live with it."
"You could always cut off your hand, princess," Samson joked and she snorted.
"Don't be gauche," she admonished, "I…what happens when I'm done sealing the Rifts? Do I just…live with this piece of the Fade on my body?" Samson shrugged. He couldn't help her. The only person who could was the one trying to kill her. For a moment, he found an ounce of pity for her. She was truly alone in this, and he regretted for a moment, making his choice.
But had he not, he'd never have met her to begin with.
"You do your job, princess," he laughed, "and then you go home. I don't think you need me to tell you how fast people forget that you saved their asses from hell on earth. Look at how many wanted the Wardens banished. Just do what needs to be done, and go home and be happy." Hadiza paused, fixing him with a look that was clearly a mingling of surprise and realization. She looked down at her marked hand again. Then, she sighed.
"Yeah, I don't exactly have anywhere to go after this. I can't go home. Circle mage, remember?" Samson nodded. This was true. He couldn't see a woman like Hadiza returning to the quiet captivity of a Circle. Not after she was done un-fucking Thedas' entire existence.
"Oh!" She said and went to the desk to retrieve something, and Samson stirred, watching her with idle curiosity, "The item is ready and I think I can begin scrying post-haste." She turned and in her hands was the strangest diadem Samson had ever seen. Not that he'd seen a lot, but it was a strange shape and very ornate. It bore the same severity as Andraste's crown only its curved edges were lined with draped chains, tiny and delicate…and slightly glowing. Samson realized upon closer inspection that the chains were encased lyrium shards. Hadiza smiled.
"Scrying crown. Summerstone, pure lyrium crystal, and gold. Dagna crafted it based on the original design in the Arcanus Apparatus; it is quintessentially Tevene." She looked please with herself. Samson smirked.
"Gonna try it on, princess?"
"Don't call me that." She huffed. Samson chuckled.
"Why not? It suits you. You certainly act like one." Hadiza sucked in a breath, scrunched her nose, and frowned. Then, her lips twitched, suppressing a smile.
"Fuckin' knew it," Samson laughed, "well, go on. Put the damned thing on." Hadiza took a deep breath and looped the longest chain around her head. Samson was surprised that the diadem did not so much as go on her head so much as it were fitted to her face. The center settled on her nose, with the middle point following her nose's bridge, settling the point directly in the middle of her brow, while the other point obscured her mouth. The other two points curved along the sides of her face up to secure on top of her head. It was eerie and strange and completely foreign and yet when he viewed those quicksilver eyes through the strange item on her face, he felt his blood run hotter. She was beautiful, Maker fuck it all. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her until she forgot Cullen was anything but her advisor.
"How do I look?" She asked and he saw the flash of her smile behind the soft glow of lyrium chains. His cock was half hard from this and he coughed, trying to will it away. He couldn't fucking think straight. All he saw now was what she might look like in that strange thing on her fucking face and nothing else. Maker's balls he was willing to bet she moved like music in a man's arms, writhing and undulating to whatever pounding rhythm he set with his hips.
"You look strange. How does this thing work?" He managed to grate out. Hadiza shrugged off her robe, revealing the tan blouse and trousers she normally wore.
"Well, we're going to start small first. It will allow me to focus, as you said. But…" Samson waited. Hadiza gulped.
"You know what a Fade-step is?" She asked. Samson nodded. He'd seen it done often enough. A mage only cast that to evade imminent danger. Hadiza puffed out a breath behind her strange crown.
"It's kind of like that, apparently. I'll be half in the Fade, as it'll allow me to cover more ground efficiently. But…there's a risk."
"Possession." Samson guessed and she nodded. Samson sighed.
"Alright, so what do you want me to do while you're…searching?" He asked. Hadiza bit her lip.
"Just guard my body. I don't want to risk losing the Anchor so if I show any signs of turning, then you can smother my magic and me. But try not to kill me, alright?" She gave him a cutting smile again. Samson grunted.
"Alright, but if I've got no choice I'm not gonna risk you going in the Fade and coming out a pride demon. What—or who—are you searching for?" Hadiza knelt in the center of the scrying circle.
"My sister. I want to see how this feels before we attempt Corypheus." Hadiza crossed her legs, gesturing for Samson to take up a vigil near her body.
"If I scry someone and they scry back, the sigils should flare up. The closer they come, the more sigils will burn away. I expect this to happen when I search for Corypheus. But for now, let's find my sister." She muttered. Samson watched her closely, felt the prickle of magic on his skin as she sank into her focus. Everything was still in the room; even the flickering flames of torchlight seemed to still themselves as Hadiza's focus deepened. Samson felt a chill as a frosty mist began rolling along her body, wispy at first, but gradually growing. The crackle of ice forming accompanied the frosty mist. Samson watched her vigilantly, fixated. Her silver irises brightened, growing paler and paler until her eyes were completely white, and then she moved no more.
She was searching.
Samson waited with a growing sense of anticipation.
Hadiza felt like she was flying, running, and swimming all in the same turn. When she first sank into her focus, she had not been able to think about anything but the look of slight worry on Samson's face. He had not argued with her course of action, but she could see he was reluctant in the possibility that her life could be forfeit. Nonetheless, he took up a vigil in front of her while she sank deeper into the winter stillness of her core, ignoring the growing chill and gathering frost on her body. Her eyes were wide but she no longer saw the room. She was racing over mountains, across sea and sky alike, her feet nimble, as if the very wind propelled her.
This was what scrying was like.
Samson had been right, of course, as the summerstone served to make her vision clearer, to make it seem as if what she saw was clear and crisp enough to touch. Instead, she turned her mind to focus on one individual: Ariadne. She raced across Orlais, through the Plains and forests, rapid and exhilarating to the point where she was sure if her body could move, she'd be breathless with the rush of adrenaline. The Western Approach was suddenly beneath her 'feet', leeched of most of its color, and blurry around the edge where the Fade touched her vision. She focused harder, racing toward Griffon Wing Keep, above the battlements, where she saw Knight-Captain Rylen's men in the midst of a training exercise. She switched focus, her vision blurring from one face to the next, searching, until she spotted Ariadne in the shadows, a darkling creature who watched the proceedings with a critical eye.
Hadiza waved but Ariadne could not see her, nor sense her.
Then, to her surprise, a strong arm caught Ariadne about the waist, turning her. Ariadne's smile was quick and mischievous, and then she caught a glimpse of a tattooed face bending down to kiss her.
Hadiza pulled back from her scrying quickly, Thedas blurring around her as she was thrown completely back into her body with a startled and desperate gasp. Samson was there, and he hauled her to her feet as Hadiza struggled to regulate her breathing, frost crackling from her body onto the floor. She blinked, wide eyed and startled, snatching the diadem from her head.
"You alright there, princess?" Samson asked, trying to calm her, and realized belatedly that he was rubbing her arms to warm her up. Hadiza blinked rapidly.
"Yes…" She said softly, "I'm…I'm okay. It was just…a lot to take in. A rush. I…" She trailed off when she realized she was practically in Samson's arms. He was still holding her arms, his grip tight but not painful, and they stared at one another.
"Are you sure you're…?" Samson asked softly, too softly. Hadiza felt something stir in her body, something hot and tightly coiled that made her breath short and her knees weak. She couldn't tear her eyes away and she didn't want to. All this time she hadn't noticed that his eyes were hazel, a clear and sharp hazel, hazy with a recent lyrium dosage. Her lips parted and she wanted to speak but the heat in her unfurled and in her idiocy, she leaned up as he came down, and their lips met.
Maker! Hadiza felt something spear through her body, pinning her soul, felt herself trembling as Samson returned her kiss, firm but sensual. She hadn't even thought his mouth capable of such sensuality, but here he was, crushing her against his body while she clung to him desperately, kissing him as if she needed the air he breathed. The scrying chamber's silence was cut up by their panting as they kissed and Samson ran his fingers through her hair, getting a good grip in his fist at the roots. He tipped her head back, and the sound she made when his lips graced the swan arc of her exposed throat sent all the blood straight to his cock. He was throbbing in his breeches as he tasted and savored her skin, breathing in her scent while she cooed and purred.
And then they stopped, breaking away. Hadiza brought her hand to her mouth.
"Samson, what are we doing…?" She asked in a frightened whisper. Samson wanted to tell her exactly what they should have been doing. Wanted to tell her how he was going to strip her to the skin and pin her to the wall, or take her across the table in the far corner. Maker but he was hard! He was harder than he'd ever been in a long while and the soft tremble of her full lips did nothing to soothe the ache. He only knew he wanted to be inside her, badly. He wanted to know what other noises of pleasure he could elicit from her.
Maker, he just wanted her.
"I should go." She said gently and Samson let her go, watched her slip back into her robe and leave the diadem on her desk, and leave him alone in the room. When she was gone he swore softly under his breath.
This was the exact kind of trouble he didn't need, but Andraste preserve him, it was the exact kind of trouble he wanted.