The next few days in Skyhold were lit brighter, in both the spiritual and literal sense. So bright, in fact, that Dane panted and swiped the sweat collecting on his forehead. His arms strained as he helped unload what seemed like the millionth cart to arrive in the fortress.
"C'mon, Boss. It ain't so bad." Iron Bull cajoled with a grin, hefting a sack as large as the Herald himself over his shoulder. Dane glared up at his friend as they made the weary trek up the stairs and into the great hall.
"You try facing a dragon next time then."
"I wish I had.." Iron Bull said with a sigh.
"Herald!"
Dane all but dropped the crate he held in alarm. Cassandra stood square in the entrance to the hall, dark eyes narrowed in annoyance as he fumbled to hold onto the freight. 'Oh, Maker. Not again..'
"You are supposed to be resting." She snapped, advancing forward.
Dane swallowed past the pebble that had formed in his throat, raising the box higher in his arms in a silly hope he might be able to disappear behind it.
"Aw, give the poor guy a rest, Seeker." Bull soon realised his words were fruitless once Cassandra's glare shifted in his direction. He shrugged, striding further into the hall and leaving Dane to her mercy.
"Your injuries were severe, Herald. This is the third time in as many days I have caught you out of bed."
He sighed in defeat and moved past the Seeker, placing the weighty crate on the nearest table he spotted.
"We cannot afford for your injuries to leave you in this state permanently." She added, rounding the table to continue her admonishing.
"I know, I know. I'm just.. unused to all this." Dane mumbled, scratching at the rough stubble on his cheek.
In truth, the grandiose quarters he had been given made him feel isolated. Alone. Alone was when thoughts of Corypheus resurfaced, and the cobbled walls looked all too like those of the flooded dungeons back in Redcliffe.
Instead, he had spent every waking hour helping those who arrived at Skyhold. Whether it was unloading a cart or fetching supplies for the kitchens, he cared not, as long as his hands were busy and his mind distracted. The tavern had been established on the first night they arrived in the fortress; thanks to Bull's chargers, and that was where he spent his evenings.
"I understand," Cassandra said with a sigh. Dane looked up, his expression a mixture of curiosity and surprise. "I must admit, were I in your shoes I would be doing exactly the same thing."
Dane grinned at the Seeker, straightening his meek stance.
"I knew it. At the rate you're demolishing those training dummies, there won't be any hay left for the horses."
Cassandra let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, her eyes softening into the gentle almond shape he so loved to admire.
"Would you prefer a live partner?" Dane frowned at his own question; it had slipped out before he remembered he could not fight with a sword if his life depended on it.
"You?" She replied, a dark eyebrow raised in amusement. "Did I not just finish scolding you for not resting?"
"True," He smiled, taking a step closer to where she stood. "But I have a very distinct memory of you insisting that I needed training. Who better to teach me than the finest swordswoman of the Inquisition?"
"I- You flatter me." Cassandra stumbled on her words, a pink blush spreading along her cheeks. "Perhaps when you are healed."
With that, the Seeker turned on her heel and stalked out of the hall. Dane watched her leave for a long moment, a warmth in his bones spreading, and yet not from the fires in the hall. He picked up the crate from its place on the table, continuing his journey to the forge with a spring in his step and a merry whistle in the air.
The next few weeks at Skyhold passed in a blur. Men and women from all corners of Ferelden and Orlais had come to join the Inquisition, in various ways. Cullen was always busy with recruits; shouting and groaning at their ill-trained antics. Josephine seemed to have some doting noble attached to her arm at any given time, and Leliana.. Well, who knew what Leliana was up to?
As of this humid and sun-kissed day in the fortress, the Herald who the entirety of the Inquisition followed, a shining beacon to the people, lay grumbling and hurt in the muck of the courtyard.
"Come, stand up." Cassandra barked for the hundredth time that morning.
'This is not what I had in mind..' Dane thought to himself. When he had offered his services as a sparring partner, he had hoped for a chance to be close to the Seeker. Maybe for her to somehow land against his chest, and blink up at him with those long, gorgeous lashes.
Instead, he had been beaten to the ground with frustrating consistency. Hour after hour since dawn, Cassandra had swept him off his feet with her practice sword, rather than he sweeping her into his arms.
"Come on, Lordy! I'm cringing just watching ya!" Sera shouted from the roof of the tavern.
Quite a collection of spectators had amassed, including the heckling elf, much to Dane's embarrassment. They 'oohed' and 'aahed' at the Seeker's dazzling display of swordsmanship, and hissed and 'ouched' when the Herald inevitably got smacked by the wooden prop.
"Do I look as bad as them?" He grunted between breaths, scrambling to his feet in the most ungracious of movements.
"As who?" Cassandra queried, slashing towards him without hesitation.
He managed to raise his shield without a fraction of a second to spare, feeling the impact of her strike jar all the way up his arm.
"Them." He answered, nodding towards the row of headless training dummies nearby.
The Seeker laughed, standing straight and letting her sword drop to her side.
"No, but I fear if we continue much longer, you may."
'Oh, the Maker does exist!' Dane let out a heavy sigh of relief, letting his weapons fall to the dirt. He shuffled to the wall of the keep and slid down it, his breath coming in ragged pants.
The crowd soon dispersed once Cassandra took note of who was watching, a perplexed look crossing her face.
"Told you you were the finest swordswoman. I think they would have started tossing roses in soon. Maybe smallclothes."
Cassandra let out a disgusted snort, turning away from him and returning her sword to the rack nearby. She was thankful he could not see the blush that lit up her cheeks.
"Although, I suspect you may have been going easy."
"What gives you that idea?" She asked, her face schooled into a neutral expression as she approached the mess of a man slumped against the castle wall.
"I'm pretty sure those dummies give more of a resistance than I do." He answered, gazing up at her with that reverent grin that reminded her of their long moment in Haven.
"I was not always this skilled. It takes many years of practice."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Dane replied, accepting the cloth she offered to wipe away the sweat and grime from his face. "Varric started telling me about your adventures. Slaying dragons, uncovering a conspiracy, saving the Divine? You did all that, when at the same age I struggled to get up before noon."
'In fact, I still struggle with that.' He added internally, deigning not to impart that particular piece of knowledge to the Seeker.
"Varric has a tendency to.. embellish things, Herald. It was not so grand as he tells it."
"Tell me your version then."
Cassandra blinked, the look on her face telling she hadn't expected that reply.
"I..I am no storyteller, Herald. I would not tell it as well as he."
"Let me be the judge of that." Dane smiled, feeling bravery in his chest; new and refreshing.
The Seeker paused for a long moment, various emotions flitting across her face that the Herald couldn't quite catch. Just when he thought she might turn and ignore him altogether, she sighed, and sat on the grass next to him with a grace most nobles could not exert if they tried.
"Varric, I've decided to ignore your advice."
The dwarf looked up from the yellowed parchment he scratched upon with a grin, twirling the quill between his stubby, ink-stained fingers.
"And what advice would that be?" Dorian asked for him, taking a seat next the pair.
Dane scraped forward in his chair, wincing at the new bruises on his side and snatching a hunk of bread from the centre of the table. He had rapidly discovered that lunchtime in the Inquisition meant 'first in, first served', or rather, 'first in, eats.'
"Distance."
"Ah." Dorian exchanged a look with Varric, both of them wearing smug smiles. Dane paused mid-chew of his bread.
"You're not going to ask?"
"No, I'm not." Dorian replied with a sigh, retrieving a sovereign from his belt and tossing it into Varric's waiting palm.
Dane huffed. "You made bets? Does everyone know?"
Dorian let out his rich laughter, popping a grape into his mouth. "That's not Varric's fault, Dane. Although I shouldn't be surprised, you Free Marchers have the subtlety of a brick."
The Herald scoffed, shaking his head and focusing on devouring the rest of his meal. 'Where did he manage to find grapes? I need to talk to Josephine..'
"I think it's charming."
The three men turned in their seats as Leliana spoke. As per usual, the Spymaster seemed to have appeared out of thin air, rivalling even Cole's knack for surprise. Dane groaned loud enough to echo in the hall, setting his arms on the table.
"Really, kid. You should not be surprised she knows." Varric said with a throaty chuckle.
"It's true." Leliana said, resting her hip against the table.
Dane rolled his eyes and stuffed the last of his lunch into his mouth, brushing the crumbs from his tunic as he stood.
"Did you need me for something, Leliana?"
"Indeed," She replied, the mirth fading from her features. She turned to the stairs into the rookery, gesturing for him to follow. They climbed the flights of steps in silence; the only sound being the squawks of messenger birds above.
"You must blame me for what happened at Haven, Herald." Leliana finally spoke as they arrived at the topmost landing. Dane watched as she reached for a furled scroll, twisting it in her hands.
"Why would I?" He asked, taking a seat opposite her at a table covered in various official looking documents.
"It was one of my scouts that reported the approaching force. I pulled them back. Perhaps if I had waited.." She trailed off, bringing a gloved hand to her face to rub at the frown knitting close.
"No, Leliana," He replied, his voice low and what he hoped was comforting. "You made the right decision. Corypheus's army was coming no matter what."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Perhaps it's this divine blessing everyone seems to think I have." He said with a soft quirk of his lips, reaching across the table to squeeze Leliana's hand.
"I think she would be proud, you know, the Divine." He continued, prompting the Spymaster to meet his gaze.
"Think of what we have accomplished. The fighting between Mages and Templars.. it's over. A foreign Tevinter power? Foiled!" Dane said with a shake of his fist, earning the slightest of smiles from Leliana.
"And it is thanks to you, for the most part. You and Cassandra declared this. The Left and Right hands of the Divine."
"Perhaps," Leliana stated, removing her hand from the gentle weight of Dane's own. "But we cannot celebrate just yet. I feel the true challenges are just beginning."
"I can't disagree," He replied, crossing the space to stand next to her at the makeshift altar in the corner of the room. "All I know is, is that we will face them together."
[A.N] A huge, huge thank you for the lovely reviews I have received! I am so glad that you are enjoying this story, and I am taking all your feedback on board. And to the silent readers, thank you too! [/A.N]