The grounds of Skyhold were laden with frost, an icy coating over every patch of dirt and the occasional tuft of frozen grass. The Inquisitor relished the satisfying noise of the ground crunching beneath his boots as he walked. His steady breaths misted in the cool air of the morning, dusting over his lips and nose and bringing a pleasant shiver of numbness to his skin. Winter had descended on their holdings almost overnight.
Dane pulled open the well-oiled door to the forge. The building was cold; being too early for the blacksmiths to have lit the bellows. He stepped into the cavernous building softly, just in case Cassandra was still asleep. 'Unlikely as that is.' He thought, stepping past the vacant bellows and making his way up the stairs to the Seeker's haunt a few floors above.
He crested the top of the stairs with little but a rustle of fabric. Sera's teachings, as devilish and pranksome as they were, had taught him a thing or two about stomping around. Dane swept his bright gaze across the room, noting the empty bedroll.
The Seeker was already awake; knelt before the window overlooking the courtyard below. Her hands were clasped in prayer, and her lips were still. The Inquisitor watched, considering turning around and going back the way he had come. It seemed like an intrusion to see her pray; a part of Cassandra that he knew, but had never been witness to.
"Inquisitor." The Seeker rose from her spot on the floor when she had finished, reaching for her chestplate nearby.
"I didn't mean to disturb you."
"You did not." She replied, dismissing his apologetic voice. The Inquisitor settled against the railings across from her, content to watch and wait in silence as she strapped the remaining pieces of her armour on.
The donning of her Seeker uniform was a ritual; a regime as familiar to her hands as breathing was to her lungs. It had never been privy to anybody except herself, so the Herald's quiet fascination struck her as a rather personal moment. Had it been any other gawking onlooker, she would have been uncomfortable. With him, she was almost perplexed to realise she didn't care.
Trevelyan crossed the room so he stood before her. He reached for her waiting gauntlets; the last piece to be put on.
"You look beautiful this morning." He murmured, holding one glove aloft so she could slip her fingers inside. The Seeker obeyed, feeling the stirrings of butterflies underneath the heavy steel of her chestplate.
She had been called such before, but the words were most often spilt from the mouths of lecherous men; eying her in a way that made her skin crawl. The Inquisitor's compliment was artless, and his eyes were soft in the grey morning light.
The butterflies took flight as he lifted her remaining un-gloved hand. He leant forward, the chill of his lips cool as he pressed a gentle kiss on her skin. The sensation lingered even after she had slipped the other gauntlet on.
"Have you eaten?" Dane asked, waiting patiently as she strapped her sword to her waist.
"Not yet, no."
"May I take you to breakfast?"
Cassandra looked at him. His eyes were hopeful, melting away her reserve. She realised that was likely why he had wandered up to her quarters even before the Sun could shine down on the land.
"You may."
Dane grinned at her, gesturing his hand for her to lead down the stairs. They exited the forge and made their way through the empty grounds, taking a brisk stroll around the steps to the main hall. The horses in the stables nickered as they passed, swishing their tails at the motes of snow drifting down from the heavens. The Seeker grew confused as they ascended a winding staircase hidden away in the corner of the fortress.
"Where are we going?" She asked, slowing her pace and giving the Inquisitor a bemused glance.
"To breakfast." He replied simply, stopping at the top of the staircase and holding open a stained oaken door. Cassandra huffed but walked past him, content to let him have his surprise. 'For now.'
Trevelyan stepped in behind her, shutting the door with a creak that echoed in the stone walls. She hadn't seen this part of Skyhold, and by the looks of it, not many others had either. Dust clung to the ancient floors, making her nose twitch as Dane lead her deeper into the halls.
She paused as they reached where he had led them. A vast room met her gaze. It was adorned with rich tapestries of red and gold, depicting battles long since raged. Brackets of slow-melting candles lined the walls, and a banquet table lay in the centre of the room; long enough to host an army.
The Inquisitor had been busy indeed. The farthest end of the table was laid out with a collection of delicate pastries and fruits, their sweet scent enticing her. A crystal vase of white and orange wildflowers sat in the middle of the display, as heady and fragrant as the food.
Trevelyan marched to the chairs at the end of the table, pulling one out with a nervous smile and waiting for her to be seated. Cassandra felt her legs move almost of their own accord. She settled into the chair he offered, feeling the butterflies from earlier flutter underneath her armour.
"Did you do all this?" She wondered, noting the meticulous placement spread before them.
Dane nodded in response as he took his own seat. His mouth had gone dry in her presence. He reached for a single flower in the vase, plucking the most vibrant of the bunch. The stem was heavy in his hand as he offered it to Cassandra, his anxiety receding as a blush crept up her neck.
"You didn't have to do this." She mumbled, lifting the flower from his hand to her nose.
"I wanted to."
Trevelyan beamed as a gentle smile blossomed on Cassandra's face. He reached over to the bowl of exotic fruits he had nagged Josephine for, selecting a plump nectarine.
"Do you like these?" He asked, slicing the ripe fruit in half on his plate. It was a somewhat deceptive question. Leliana had informed him of the Seeker's fondness for summer fruits with a sly wink the day before.
The Seeker tore her gaze from the movement of his hands, feeling her mouth water slightly in anticipation.
"Yes, though I wonder how many favours you had to go through to acquire them."
"You don't want to know." Dane chuckled, waiting for Cassandra to remove her gloves before placing one half of the nectarine in her hand.
The Seeker took a careful bite out of the fruit, savouring the sweet nectar. Dane stared at her openly, his mouth slackening as she closed her eyes in content. It was his gawping that made his own bite rather less delicate.
"Maker's breath.." Trevelyan grumbled, swiping at the juices that trickled down his chin. Cassandra cracked an eye open, failing to suppress the laugh that came as he took another bite, only for more juice to run down his hands and mouth. "Why is this so sticky?"
"I wouldn't know. I'm not a savage." She teased, polishing off the last of her fruit without so much as a drop spilt.
"True," He gave her a wicked grin of his own. "I'm not royalty, after all."
Cassandra gave him a half-hearted glare, snatching the second fruit he had reached for out from his fingertips. He laughed at that, relaxing back into his chair.
"You've never told me about your life in Nevarra. What was it like?"
Cassandra paused mid-bite. She considered changing the subject, brushing him off with the usual stock reply she gave any that asked. Instead she reached for the flower he had given her, running her fingers along the petals in idle motion.
"Short. I did not see much of it, truthfully. What I did see was from behind the bars of a gilded cage."
Trevelyan frowned, leaning forward in his seat as she continued.
"I never really knew my parents. They were on the wrong side of the attempt to overthrow King Markus, and were executed when I was still but a child. And so my brother – Anthony - he and I were spared and sent to live with our Uncle. A Mortalitasi."
"A Death Mage?" Dane asked, surprise clear on his face. Cassandra nodded, grimacing at the memory of her Uncle Vestalus. "And Anthony? Perhaps I should have asked his permission before courting you."
Cassandra felt a sad smile tug at her lips.
"Anthony.. Was older than I. A dragon hunter. He showed what a Pentaghast could truly be. I idolized him – I wanted to hunt dragons as he did, even though our Uncle forbade it."
Dane felt his pulse slow at the sadness in her voice. 'Was a dragon hunter?' He hoped his suspicions were wrong, even as her eyes watered a little too brightly in the candlelight.
"He promised to train me in secret," She went on, a mischievous smile coming to her face at the memory. "We would hunt together one day. Brother and Sister, vanquishing the beasts of old.." The grin vanished. "And then he died on me."
Trevelyan felt sorrow spike into his chest; bitter needles that wormed towards his heart.
"I'm so sorry, Cassandra. I shouldn't have pried-"
"No, it's alright." She cut him off. 'Better to explain it now.' She reasoned. "A group of Apostates wanted dragon blood, and needed Anthony to get it for them. When he refused, they killed him for it. In front of me."
Dane's breath froze in his lungs. Shame and anger washed over him. 'They are the mages I must never become.' He reminded himself, trying to quell the building temper in his head.
"I begged the Chantry to let me become a Templar. They sent me to the Seekers instead. A wise decision, on their part. Even apart from all mages, it took me manyyears to let go of my drive for vengeance."
"I don't blame you.." Trevelyan muttered. He glanced to his hand that had been resting on the table. It had clenched into a tight fist without him realising.
"At times I could not breathe; the rage nearly choked me." She explained, looking down at her own hands. They were silvered with scars, thin and rough alike. "I sometimes wonder who I would have become, had Anthony survived. Would I be a dragon hunter? Married to some noble fool, a mother of three? I cannot say. I take solace in knowing the Maker has a plan.. But he is not always kind."
Dane let out the breath he had been holding, feeling awash with guilt for making her recount her painful past. He shook his head, chastising himself for ruining what he hoped could have been a romantic morning.
"I'm sorry." He repeated, looking down at his lap in regret.
"You will be if you let these go to waste." She smiled, leaning back in her seat and taking a bite out of the nectarine's sweet flesh. She pushed thoughts of Anthony back to the recesses of her mind; reserved for the rare evenings when sorrow swallowed her up as much as the darkness.
Trevelyan hesitated, only for a moment, as he spied a single bead of juice rolling from the corner of her mouth. He reached towards her, resting his hand on the strong curve of her jaw. He skimmed his thumb down over her cheek, brushing away the solitary drop. Cassandra reached up, taking his hand in her own and interlacing their fingers together on the table. Their hands remained that way, even as they finished the breakfast and the sounds of Skyhold waking crept down through the stone.
"Hey, Boss!"
The Inquisitor looked up from saddling his horse, meeting Iron Bull's jovial grin from across the campsite. The Qunari sat on a mount of his own, for truly, it was the only one that could handle him. Dane eyed the so named 'Bog Unicorn' as trekked through the sand dunes to his friend. The undead horse creaked and whinnied under the sheer weight of its rider, but showed no signs of buckling. 'Perks of not being alive, I guess.' He reached a tentative hand to stroke the creature's muzzle. Its leathery skin was oddly warm under his touch, and the horse snorted in approval.
"Bull. Chargers." Trevelyan greeted, nodding at the ragtag group of mercenaries grinning down at him from their less glamorous mounts.
"We're gonna catch up to Cullen and the troops. Figured we could be of more use cutting through the stragglers." Bull explained, ruffling the matted hair of the horse's mane. Dane raised his eyebrow, giving the Qunari an appraising glance.
"Really? It wouldn't have anything to do with High Dragon they spotted, would it?"
Iron Bull paused, before almost bursting with excitement.
"Oh, come onBoss! Have you seen her flying overhead? You can't expect me to see that and not want to go and help!"
"And by 'help', he means 'slaughter'." Krem piped up, earning a chuckle from the rest of the Chargers. Dane rolled his eyes, knowing he was fighting a losing battle.
"Fine, fine. But if you get killed, I'm sending Dorian to reanimate your charred corpse for the fight at Adamant." He warned, earning a delighted roar from Bull.
"I'll bring you back a tooth!" Bull shouted from over his shoulder, already spurring his mount over the dunes and towards the main army camp a few leagues ahead.
Trevelyan shook his head, turning back to his own, less dead horse. Despite the descent of winter over Thedas, the Western Approach remained as blistering as ever. Dane dipped his hands into the Elfroot mixture Solas had prepared, steadying a gentle hand on his horse's cheek as he applied the soothing paste to its face. His stallion's nose and mouth had cracked and blistered in the sizzling heat as they travelled, and from Dane's own sunburn, he knew just how painful it must have been for his mount.
"The way one treats animals often shows a lot about their character." Solas mused, joining the Inquisitor.
Dane frowned as his horse gave a short whinny, shifting away from the elf and shaking its head in distress. He glanced towards his friend, feeling strangely disturbed at the predatory glint Solas had as he eyed the stallion. It disappeared before he could comment, leaving Trevelyan wondering if he had seen it at all.
"Thank you for this," Dane gestured to the green tincture. The clammy sheen it coated him in was worth being shielded from the full intensity of the Sun. "I'd have shrivelled up into a raisin without it."
Solas bowed his head in acknowledgement, drifting away from the Inquisitor as gracefully as he had appeared. The Herald watched him go in confusion. He shrugged after a moment, guessing that was all he had to say.
"Friggin' weirdo. What did I tell ya?" Sera grumbled, swiping a fingerful of the Elfroot mixture and dabbing it on Dane's nose. Trevelyan grinned, seeing her poke her tongue at Solas' retreating form.
"He's not so bad."
"I'm sure Coryphefist wasn't 'so bad' once either." She snorted, taking another daub of the paste and coming to stand in front of him. Dane sighed but allowed her to draw whatever it was she was creating on his face, knowing if he told her off now, he'd just wake up the next morning with it drawn in something more permanent.
"Am I going to have to wash this off within two seconds?" He gestured to his face as she traced his skin, tongue caught between her lips in a cheeky grin as she worked.
"You're not allowed. It's art." Sera giggled, grinning even wider as a drop of the paste dripped into his eye.
"Ow. That stuff stings." He complained, reaching up to rub at his eye only for Sera to slap it away.
"You're just a big baby. Be a strong brave man." She mocked in a deep voice, making the Herald laugh despite the burning in his eye. "There. All finished."
Dane looked at her with suspicion.
"Can I really leave this on? I didn't bring a looking glass.."
"I'll just do somethin' worse if you rub it off." Sera said sweetly, wiping her hands on his tunic before skipping off to terrorize someone else.
It wasn't until later that afternoon, sunset to be precise, that the Inquisitor even remembered she had drawn on his face at all. Duties around the campsite had distracted him, and he hadn't run into any of his other companions as he worked.
They were most likely hidden away in Dorian's tent, where the mage had cast a cooling enchantment and promptly set about dozing for the rest of the day. The Tevinter mage had called it 'battle preparation'.
Dane swiped at the sweat beading on his bare shoulders, having cast off his tunic to wrap around the wood he had collected for the campfire that evening. Usual timber was few and far between in the scarcity of the desert, so he had been forced to collect long dead bits of cacti. The shredding of either his hands or his shirt had been an easy choice.
He dumped the kindling at the circle of stones he had prepared earlier, kneeling down to attempt lighting the blasted 'wood' as the last dregs of sunlight streaked across the orange sky. He sparked the flint Blackwall had loaned him, sometimes earning a fizzle of flame before the brittle kindling sputtered out. He tried again and again, determined to have the skill instead of relying on magic.
"Oh, in the name of Andraste!" Dane shouted, pushing himself to his feet and kicking a tuft of sand in frustration when the flint broke in his hands.
"You shouldn't.." Cassandra trailed off as she wandered over to the Inquisitor. She stopped a step away, her eyes squarely fixed on his face. He growled in frustration, lifting his undershirt to wipe at the sweat clinging to his temples.
"Sorry. It's this blasted desert." He apologised, feeling the tension in his muscles only increase with her proximity.
She didn't respond. He frowned as she continued to peer at his face, noting a deep scarlet spread across her nose and over her cheeks.
"What?"
"I.. Your.." She stuttered, lifting her finger to point at his face.
Trevelyan froze, suddenly remembering Sera's artistic endeavour a few hours earlier. 'Oh no.. Oh Maker, what has she DONE?'
He looked at her, his eyes wide like a deer caught in the hunt. She bit her lip in amusement, fighting against the laughter bubbling in her chest.
"What does it say?" Trevelyan whispered, looking beyond terrified.
Cassandra considered telling him; her very title was 'Seeker of Truth', after all. But as her eyes lingered on the creative work on his face, she decided against it. He groaned as she shot him a wicked grin, taking the flint from his hands and returning to the fire.
"Cassandra," He grouched, flopping into the sand next to her as she sparked the flint. "Please."
"What?" She smiled to herself as the sparking of the flint caught, the dried cactus leaves soon engulfed by flame. Dane jumped to his knees when he saw the fire.
"How did you do that?" He cried, looking between her face and the roaring flames.
The Seeker let the laughter in her chest escape; his pouting face too much to deny. Trevelyan tried his hardest to glare at her, but only managed it for a few seconds before chuckling himself.
"You're a wicked woman, you know that?"
"Am I?" Cassandra raised a dark eyebrow, looking pointedly at whatever was scrawled across his forehead. He sighed loudly, collapsing back into the warm sand and covering his face with his arms. The Seeker watched for a moment, before kneeling so she was above him. She reached for his hand, pulling aside his arm and leaning down.
Dane's heartbeat hammered in his ears as he breathed in her intoxicating scent. Her face hovered above his own for a few seconds, before she closed the gap and placed a searing kiss on his forehead. A blush of his own burned harsher than any sunlight as she moved her lips, whispering into his ear just what was written across his face for all to see.
[A.N] What do you think Sera so helpfully drew for the Inquisitor..? Some shameless fluff before the incoming angst of Adamant Fortress.
Another special thank you to: Miranda Le Ginger, Asmodeus Poisonteeth, ImplicationsProblematic, spectre4hire, the lovely DivaInSpace, and the ever mysterious Guest(s). And of course, a big thank you to all that follow, favourite, read and review. [/A.N]