"Maker. At last." He sighed.
The sounds of the great hall faded behind them. He leant down to meet her lips, eyes closing in content. Skyhold might be his residence, but she was his home. Softness and warmth and comfort, all he had dreamt about for the past week, the past decade; all of his life in the Circle.
Cassandra smiled as he relaxed. The tension in his body joined his jacket, sliding to the floor as she tugged it off his shoulders. She had to work around his arms, lifting his hands from her waist for the garment to drop. He was strangely uncooperative; touch returning to her hip like a magnet.
Cassandra felt heat begin to curl up her neck as he kissed her again. Each time she drew back to regain her breath he would give her all of a single moment, then he'd recapture her mouth, drawing her into a longer dance each time. His hands were insistent around her waist, pulling her to him, keeping her body flush against his.
"I've missed you terribly." He said, simple and honest.
He pulled back, an inch away from her face. He placed his palm against her cheek, thumb ghosting over her skin. Checking she was really there; not some cruel apparition, a trick of his desires. She took a shaky breath.
"Who's idea was it to send you guys ahead to Skyhold? They need to be kicked out."
Cassandra allowed herself a smirk. She reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.
"Yours, Inquisitor. Somehow I fear that decree would be ignored."
"Mine." He hummed.
Before the Seeker could truly register what he was doing, Trevelyan scooped her up and into his arms in one fluid movement. Her legs wrapped around his middle. Cassandra huffed. She resisted the urge to squirm, instead shooting her foolish man a long-suffering glare.
"Where are you planning on carrying me? To the nursemaid?"
"No," He replied. He began the slow trek up the stairs. He had to make a conscious effort to look at the ground, rather than her lips, slightly swollen from their affection. "We're going to bed."
"My bed is above the forge," She reminded him. Dane only smiled. He tightened his hold on her as she leaned back, moving her hands to his collar. "So we're going to your bed."
"Not mine. Ours." He corrected.
"Why do you insist on lugging me about?" She grumbled, changing topic in the vain hope it might soothe her racing heart.
"I enjoy having your legs wrapped around me," He answered. The Seeker stilled in his arms, eyes frozen to his in surprise. That shift in conversation had definitely not worked."You have no idea how many times I thought about it in Val Royeaux," He went on, slowing as they crested the stairs. "Every room some noble showed me, every strange bed I slept in. All I could think about was you – with me."
Cassandra turned a brilliant shade of scarlet.
The Inquisitor grinned, walking them the last few paces to the bed. He set her down as gently as he could. A sigh of content brushed her lips as she settled into the soft mattress. It had been too long since she could relax; not anxious, not stressed. The tension tight in her muscles began to thaw, melting away. Even the heat of his words faded in light of the comfort his bed offered.
She watched as Trevelyan wandered about the room. He stopped at his desk, rifling through a stack of envelopes that had amassed in his absence. None seemed to grab him, so he shifted to the fireplace. His firemaking skills had certainly improved, though she suspected he may have cheated when a spark of violet flashed in the shadows.
He stood up once the flames matured. The room would take some time to heat up, so he looked at Cassandra instead. A pleased smile widened his cheeks as he spied her. She was already curled up under the duvets. He couldn't think of a sight more perfect than Cassandra warm and safe where he slept. She smiled back.
"I can't believe you let me carry you up here." He laughed, fingers moving to the buttons of his tunic.
"You're lucky I happen not to be wearing my armour."
"Grateful as I am for that," He tossed his shirt into a wicker basket in the corner of the room. "It's a rare sight. Why are you not all suited up?"
"It got damaged on the last stretch to Skyhold. Red Templars." She remarked, matter-of-fact.
The Inquisitor's expression changed so suddenly it startled her. He crossed to the bed in two large strides, hand reaching down to her jaw.
"Why did no-one tell me? Are you alright? Someone got close enough to actually damage you?"
The Seeker sat up. She covered his hand with her own. His worry was endearing, really.
"An errant Behemoth. The others were occupied, so I had to suffice on my own." She shifted her other hand to the hem of her shirt. Pulling it up slightly revealed a purple bruise, clouded and dark on her side. Dane sucked in a breath.
"Maker, Cassandra. Did I hurt you when I picked you up?"
She shook her head. He leant down and pressed a soft kiss to her skin anyway.
"It's decided then. We are never to be separated." Dane blinked to himself for a second. "And it's also decided you will ignore the clinginess of that statement."
She hummed in amusement. He sat down on the edge of the bed and set about unlacing his boots.
"You do realise I have faced worse alone? For many years now."
"Not anymore. I'll be there too. Perhaps cowering in the distance, but there all the same."
She reached out and stroked her fingertips along his back. He tossed his boots aside and shifted on the bed. Cassandra allowed him to lean her backwards. He settled half beside her, half over her. The heat from before began to rise again with the way he stared. He leaned down to her shoulder, content just to breathe her in.
"I'm glad you agreed," He mumbled into her skin. "Normally I hate sleeping here."
"You and I seem to have different definitions of 'agreed'."
"You know.." Dane looked up. "That sounded suspiciously like you were teasing me."
"Preposterous." She replied, claiming a small peck from his mouth.
He returned his mouth to her neck, adjusting himself so she had enough space, her bruise angled away from any limbs going awry in the night.
"This okay?" He murmured.
Cassandra made a non-committal noise, her eyelids already drifting closed. She reached out and took his hand, tugging on his wrist. He shifted closer so she could cuddle up to him.
The lamp on his desk extinguished with a whisper of frosted breath.
His side of the bed was empty when she awoke. It was surprising, considering she was almost always up before him. Light streamed in from the open doors to his balcony. She slipped her legs over the edge of the bed, goosebumps erupting on her skin from the cool morning air. She wandered to the doors leading outside, leaning against the frame as she spotted the Inquisitor.
A bowl of steaming water rested on the thick stone balustrade. Coils of vapour drifted up and out into the white mountain air. Trevelyan dipped the razor back into the water, wiping off the soapy residue with steady hands. He hadn't noticed her presence, humming to himself as he drew the sharp blade up and along his neck.
"I thought you were growing it out."
Dane didn't jump and slice open his jugular, to her relief. He glanced over his shoulder, finishing the pass with the razor. His smile was soft.
"Josephine said I have to be presentable for the nobles. The sacrifices I make.."
"A shame." Cassandra replied. She stepped over to him and ran her finger along the patch of skin he had just shaved. "It's not close enough."
"I thought so." He agreed. He turned and reached for the shaving brush. He lathered more of the thick soap on his skin, moving to make another stroke.
Cassandra stopped his hand and took the smooth handle of the razor. He blinked as she placed a hand on his chest, walking him backwards until he bumped against the balustrade. She stilled him with her gaze. He closed his eyes as she tilted his head, angling his brow to the heavens. She drew the sharp metal along his skin. A pleased smile tugged at his lips.
"Does it feel nice?" She wondered aloud, dipping the razor into the water before returning it to his jaw. She had never shaved a man before, but it seemed easy enough. He certainly seemed to be enjoying it.
"Mhmm." He rumbled, deep from his chest. "Though you could probably drag hot coals along my face and I'd still like it."
Cassandra rolled her eyes. She smiled to herself as she felt his hands settle on her lower back. He pulled her closer, nearly making the razor slip from her hand.
"I'm not finished yet." She groused. He only growled again, tilting his head as she worked. She bit back laughter. He was like a lazy tomcat, shifting this way and that to enjoy the touch of her hand.
"Now I am." She reached for the flannel he had prepared and soaked it in a separate bowl of water. It was deliciously warm, enough so that she was tempted to use it herself.
He finally opened his eyes, not moving his hands from her waist. She raised an eyebrow, cloth outstretched.
"Please?"
Cassandra huffed. She reached up to wipe away the thin lines of soap that remained on his face. Her hands were nimble, and she was unable to stop herself from admiring her handiwork. His skin was remarkably soft under her fingertips, not a trace of stubble to be found.
"Thank you." He murmured; blue eyes fixed on hers.
Cassandra stepped away. It was far too early for him to be allowed such smouldering looks. She took the bowl and razor from the balcony, walked back inside and set them on his dresser. Trevelyan followed suit, shutting the vast doors with a click.
"I feel like a child again," He said from somewhere behind her. "So soft."
"Glad I could be of assistance, Inquisitor."
They both dressed soon after, telltale blushes hot on their cheeks. Neither could tell if they had been caught looking at the other.
The rest of the morning was a blur. Dane wondered just where Josephine had hid all the nobles. Every time he turned there was a new face, each haughtier than the last. Agreements were signed, letters were penned, and battle plans were formulated. It wasn't until the day had disappeared that the Inquisitor got good news.
The Great Hall was filled with the dinner time rush when he escaped the latest meeting. Dane lingered in the doorway, scanning the crowds for a tall, dark-haired, angular woman. Several soldiers fit the description, but none elicited the response like the one he wanted.
"Inquisitor."
Dane glanced at the wiry man that had popped up directly in front of his nose. He might have been surprised, had the soldier not been unfortunately short.
"Good evening." He said, bemused.
The man gave him a toothy smile.
"Seeker Pentaghast asked me to collect you upon your return from the Council."
Trevelyan returned the smile. He resisted the urge to bounce on his feet.
"Excellent. Lead the way."
Fittings for the Winter Palace had been the last thing on his mind when he thought he had been invited up to Cassandra's room. Dane stared at his reflection from his seat, squinting as tufts of his hair were snipped away.
"This was just plain dishonest, Dorian."
"I won't disagree," The man accused laughed. He tweaked Trevelyan's head to the side. "But just think of the rumours otherwise. The Tevinter Magister invites the Inquisitor to his quarters? Far easier to do it this way. Everyone will just think you and Cassandra are-"
"What in the name of Andraste is going on in here?"
Dorian huffed as Dane twisted around in his seat. The Seeker herself stood at the top of her stairs, completely and utterly bewildered. Dorian surveyed the look the Inquisitor aimed at Cassandra through the mirror. Any lingering questions of Trevelyan's sexuality flew out the open window. He basically swooned at the sight of her.
"I'm trimming the Inquisitor's hair, Cassandra. I know personal hygiene is a rare thing this far South, but as a Nevarran, why, I expected better of you."
She snorted in derision and stepped over to her bed, tossing down the pile of books she had looped under her arm. Her eyes flicked between Dorian's and Danes. 'The terrible two' Varric had named them. All too often the moniker rung true.
"Why are you doing it in my quarters?"
"A few reasons, actually," Dorian started. Cassandra tried to ignore the dazed look plastered all over the Inquisitor's face. "Firstly, trying to nab him for a haircut is like trying to catch a greased nug,"
The Seeker wrinkled her nose at the image that inspired.
"Secondly, I've never seen him go anywhere more eagerly than to where you might happen to be. Or have been, in say, the past week."
She only sighed. Dane looked entirely too pleased as she settled into a chair, watching Dorian work. The Tevinter had an eye for looks, she had to admit. By the time he was finished, Dane's unruly mop had been styled and shaved into a clean cut suitable for a gentleman.
Trevelyan rose to his feet. He leaned in closer to the mirror, inspecting his haircut. She saw him grin at her in the reflection.
"Well, that wasn't so bad."
"Yes, Inquisitor. It was no trouble, nothing at all, truly. All this praise is flattering."
"Thank you Dorian," He amended. Laughter escaped as Dorian bowed. He collected his tools with a flourish and left.
"Tevinter!" Cassandra shouted after him. She hadn't missed the fact he'd left all his mess behind. The forge door slammed closed in a hurry.
Her frown relented as she looked at Dane. She had not seen him so happy since before Adamant, with the exception of last night. Well, she had hardly seen him at all. Inquisition business had kept them separate, including today.
"What do you think?" He asked. He smoothed his palms over his head, marvelling at how light it felt on his neck.
"Short hair is much better in combat."
Trevelyan shook his head, chuckling to himself.
"Good point. I was more hoping you'd say 'dashing' or 'handsome', though."
"I may if the remnants were not all over my floor."
He didn't need any further prompt. Trevelyan whistled to himself as he disappeared down the stairs. He searched for the wire broom used to sweep up metal shavings in the forge. The bellows sucked in a gasp of breath when the door opened, startling the Inquisitor. He paused in his search to stare at a dishevelled looking scout.
"Inquisitor, Ser."
Dane straightened. That tone of voice was never good. He heard the creak of the wood above, signalling Cassandra's descent.
"What is it?"
"Blackwall, Ser."
"Is he alright?" Trevelyan frowned, accepting his coat from Cassandra as she appeared at his side.
"Well, Ser.. He's gone."
{A.N] Hello everyone! Thank you for all the patience awaiting this chapter. As well as life getting in the way, this chapter was a struggle to get out. There is literally a whole folder on my computer filled with about 15 different drafts, most ending in smut before I remembered the T rating. Woops. As always, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all follows, favourites, reads, and the incredibly wonderful reviews people leave! [/A.N]