[A.N] There is very mild smut ahead. Nothing explicit or graphic, but it is alluded to. Just a quick heads-up! [/A.N]
Cassandra's writing was a scrawl at the best of times. Small strokes, wild and dark along the page. Dane watched her scribble from the doorway. Her wrist was jarring, wrinkling the paper as she carved in her words. He rapped on the door.
She didn't turn around to greet him.
Trevelyan entered the room. Glass paned doors swept out onto the balcony, warm air and chatter breezing inside. He wandered over to them and looked down. Crowds of young Royans milled in the street below. They laughed and joked, wines in one hand and lovers in the other. Their revelry was loud, billowing up into her windows like smoke. Dane frowned. The Seeker had been assigned a room much closer to the ground than he had.
He turned his attention to the table nearby. Various complimentary gifts were laid out. Pastries and fruits, wine, and even a tall, honeyed bottle of brandy. Dane helped himself, uncorking the bottle with a soft pop.
"Drink?"
Cassandra shook her head.
Trevelyan shrugged and poured one for himself. The chalice was cool in his hand as he brought it to his lips. The liquor was strong. Notes of burning and pungency, mostly. He took another swig, relishing the heat it trailed down his throat. It seemed a crime to hoard such good liquor to himself, especially in Orlais.
'Dorian and Sera are around here somewhere. Perhaps..'
The Inquisitor looked back at Cassandra. Her brow was furrowed, lips pursed and hair tousled, no doubt from stressed fingers running through it. He recapped the bottle.
She wrote for some time after he took a seat. He was unsure if her silence was from concentration or anger. She sealed the letter with her insignia once done, Seeker logo melting sharp in the hot wax.
Dane's eyes were on her as she tidied up. The quill had to be cleaned, the inkwell refilled and stoppered, paper filed away. He crossed the room to assist her. Shoulders brushed as they tidied, until nothing was maintaining the silence but themselves.
Trevelyan rubbed a speck of ink from his thumb, eyes met with her own; dark in the evening light, harsher than their last glance a few hours earlier.
"Have you come to a decision?"
Dane blinked. She was straight to the point, as usual. He nodded slowly, dreading her reaction.
"Yes. Rainier will be removed and taken back to Skyhold, held there until we return from Halam'shiral."
"Is this with the permission of the Orlesian guard?" Cassandra's face was inscrutable.
"No."
She held his gaze for a minute longer, then strode away, over to the table he had been occupying. Trevelyan exhaled a long breath through his nose, one hand rubbing his jaw. He stared at her back as she picked over the food, nothing catching her fancy, apparently.
"This was not a decision I made lightly, Cassandra." The Inquisitor spoke. He kept his distance, for now. "I would have him removed by the proper channels, if possible. But Leliana believes Rainier's crimes are all too fresh, for some at least. Left here, he will likely be mobbed, or murdered. We don't have time for Orlesian politics to dally over his sentencing."
She turned to face him, leaning back against the edge of the table.
"It would be a fair price to pay, considering his crimes."
"If you truly believed in vigilante justice, I wouldn't be standing here," Dane replied. He took a step forward and gestured to the sword at her hip. "Back at Haven? You would have been a hero for running that blade through my chest. Instead, you protected me with it."
Cassandra kept his gaze, mouth twisting as she thought.
"You were proven innocent. Rainier is guilty; damned by his own admission."
"And he will receive a trial for his crimes. Not a lynching."
"As you wish, Inquisitor." She turned away, the plane of her back signalling the end of the conversation.
Dane brought his hands to his face, running them over his eyes in frustration. He lingered a minute longer, waiting to see if she would turn around, speak, something. She didn't. Trevelyan left the room, tense shoulder bruising against the doorframe.
The Inquisitor's room was far quieter, and far warmer. The heat only served to irritate him. He crossed to his own balcony; a grander extension of marble than Cassandra's. The jovial noise from the street was mute at his height, with the sources all but ant-like below.
Blue wind danced over the rooftops of the city. The light of the White Spire shone bright in the distance; a spear bursting into the heavens. Dane shook his head. Vivienne had delighted in telling them of all loyal mages remaining in Val Royeaux, locked away in the gleaming tower. Trevelyan had struggled to hide his bitter expression, Cassandra's warning looks silencing sour retorts on his tongue more than once. He turned away, stepping back into his lavish quarters.
An ornate bed lie in the center; gold silken sheets spilling onto the polished floor. Paintings and spindly furniture littered the room, each gaudier than the last. He ignored them, hunting for his own tray of delicacies. He found the liquor collection soon enough, grabbing a strangely coloured bottle. Its glass was black and opaque, hiding whatever liquid lay inside. Trevelyan poured a tall chalice-full, musing to himself just how much this set up was draining from the Inquisition's treasury.
The drink was a breath from his lips. He stopped and glanced down at the silvery liquid. It was smooth, rolling around the edges seamlessly. He downed it in one shot, and shivered. Sensation tingled all over his body, hairs prickling upwards and blood rushing faster.
It took two more before he returned to Cassandra's room.
She was pacing the floor when he arrived. Power and electricity; taut neck and working muscles. Utterly and entirely gorgeous.
Her scowl dissipated when she saw him. His eyes, chipped and pale as ice, were unnaturally dark. Darker than she had ever seen them, and intent to a degree that made her almost alarmed. He crossed the room to stand in front of her.
It wasn't often that the Seeker felt small, but his stature was suddenly enormous. Power dormant until battle radiated off him in waves. He lifted his hand to her neck, fingers curling around her throat. He placed no pressure, only touch; feeling the thud of her heartbeat underneath his fingertips.
Cassandra grew restless as he stared. His eyes moved from her own, painting an obvious trail down her body.
She broke the trance.
Her hands flew to his chest, and shoved, sending him a few steps backwards. The distance was momentary as she pounced upon him, lithe fingers slipping through the gaps of his shirt. She pulled. Ivory buttons skittered across the floor as his shirt tore wide.
He stopped her hands as they tugged at his belt. She watched as he sunk to the floor. He pulled her boots off in two rough movements, followed by the minimal armour she wore in the evenings.
Cassandra's breath remained elusive. She had never seen Dane like this. Sparks ignited in her stomach when he looked up from below her, hands firm around her legs. He pressed his mouth against her thigh, breath hot even through the material of her breeches. She bit her lip as he leaned back, rising to his full height and taking her hand.
He led her over to the bed. She moved to sit beside him, only for him to manoeuvre her into his lap. Fingertips shifted from her waist to her thigh, touch drifting ever upward. She hesitated, then stopped his hand.
Trevelyan understood. He took her hand instead, bringing it to his lips.
An involuntary gasp escaped as he slipped two of her fingers into his mouth. He swirled his tongue over her fingertips, hot and soft to the touch. Her breath faltered as he closed his eyes, evidently relishing her.
She had expected him to be awkward, to fumble and stutter as he had when they first met. Not this; a chapter in a romance novel that would make her fidget in her seat.
He slipped her hand from his mouth and guided it to his chest. Cassandra slid her hands under the remains of his shirt, pulling it off him in one tangled movement. She couldn't help but stare at him. His muscles were broad and defined, a trail of moisture from her fingers fresh on his skin.
She was again reminded by the Inquisitor's impatience.
Her world turned all of a sudden. He was over her, hands pinning her wrists above her head. She glared at him, and then at his waist as he settled himself between her legs.
Her glare softened when he bent down, kissing her deeply. He leaned up after a moment, their noses touching.
"Do you trust me?" He asked.
Cassandra looked into his eyes, and nodded. A moment passed as he stripped one of the pillows, tearing the silk into a ribbon. He tied her wrists aptly, hands trailing down once done. They both knew she could escape it effortlessly, and they also knew that she didn't want to.
The Seeker resisted the urge to squirm in her bindings. Not from any bad experience, but from the lack of touch it offered her.
Dane shifted his hands to the buttons of her blouse. He examined them for a split second, then took a fistful of her shirt, ripping it wide open, just as she had to him. Cassandra took a shuddering breath. He captured her skin with his mouth, teeth grazing and tongue hot. Her legs tensed of their own accord, eyelids fluttering closed as he descended down her body.
"Leliana," The Inquisitor greeted. He strode into the temporary meeting room, bowing to Josephine as he saw her. "All went as planned?"
The Spymaster nodded. Trevelyan stared at her for a moment longer. Leliana looked worse for wear. Her eyes were purpled and her skin pale, red hair lacking its usual vibrance from under her hood.
"With some expense to you, it seems." Dane noted, concern pulling at his brows. "Are you alright?"
A messenger chose that moment to enter, so her half formed response died on her tongue. Trevelyan made a mental note to speak to her later.
Cullen strode into the room shortly after the messenger scurried back out. He looked unusually dishevelled, fur cloak askew on his shoulders.
"Good morning all." The Commander mumbled, nose buried into a mug of tea. Trevelyan raised an eyebrow at Josephine, and the Ambassador indulged in a smirk.
"Good day to you, Cullen. How is your head?"
Dane turned around, a triumphant grin on his features.
"You were the one stumbling down the corridor last night! I thought I recognised your voice, but Cassandra insisted you would never recite the Chant in such a drunken manner."
The other two turned to look at him while Cullen blushed into his drink.
"And where is dear Lady Cassandra this morning, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked.
"She was still asleep when I left her."
Cullen almost choked on his tea. He stared between the Josephine and Leliana, both with amused gazes on their face. He gestured a gloved finger at Dane.
"The Inquisitor and Seeker Pentaghast?" A high pitched voice gasped from the corner of the room.
Dane spun on his heel, confused. A young noble fanned herself in the doorway, looking scandalised even behind her fashionable mask.
"Ah, Yvette! Have I taught you nothing?" Josephine scrambled up from her chair, taking the younger woman by the elbow and dragging her inside.
"Good morning," Trevelyan greeted, still entirely baffled. "And you are?"
"Oh, my sincerest apologies, Inquisitor," Josephine started, stress already curling her hair free from it's bun. "This is my sister, Y-"
"Yvette Montilyet, Lord Inquisitor," Said woman interrupted. "But is it true? You and Lady Cassandra? Oh, the court was right!"
Dane blinked to himself. Cassandra would kill him if he allowed the entire youth of Orlais to know their private business.
"Ah, you are mistaken, Miss Montilyet," He said flatly. Leliana sighed from nearby. The Inquisitor couldn't lie to save his life. "You see, I had just.. brought her breakfast. That's all."
Yvette nearly squealed.
"Oh, oh! Such a romantic, the Inquisitor delivering breakfast to his lover before she wakes!"
"N-no," Dane quickly changed tack, scrambling to dig himself out of this mess.
The whine of the door hinges distracted them, presenting an equally surprised Cassandra. She glanced at everyone in turn, wandering slowly into the room to stand next to Trevelyan. She opened her mouth to speak, only to clamp it closed in surprise as Yvette launched back into conversation.
"Seeker Pentaghast!" She gasped, almost bouncing on her toes.
"Hello." It came out of her mouth more a question than a greeting.
Yvette took that as an invitation, dancing forward from her Sister's grip to grasp Cassandra's hand. Dane tensed, half expecting the Seeker to shank her out of instinct. She didn't, only remained still and confused as Yvette pulled at her glove. The Inquisitor let out a breath, reminding himself that she was a human being, not a bear ruled by instinct.
Leliana and Cullen even stepped forward, everyone quite baffled as Yvette turned over Cassandra's hand.
"Did you lose it in battle, brave Seeker?"
Cassandra exchanged a look with Josephine, who looked as if she wanted to sink through the floor.
"No, that's one hundred percent Cassandra." Dane tapped the top of her hand, unable to resist the opportunity.
Yvette giggled, still not relinquishing her hold. The Seeker started to grow annoyed with the bizzareness of the entire situation.
"Lose what?"
"The ring, of course!"
Dane let out a soft 'oh', while Cullen snorted behind his hand. Cassandra remained confused.
"Ring? What ring?"
Yvette giggled again, apparently thinking the Seeker was playing some sort of game.
"Your ring of betrothal to the Inquisitor, of course. Or do you simply not wear it with your armour?"
Cassandra turned her head to look at Dane. He scratched his neck, offering no answers.
"Oh, but you should, Lady Cassandra!" Yvette regained the Seeker's attention, tugging on her wrist. "From what I have heard, the jewels are just to die for! And it shows such status, after all you would be.." Yvette paused, snapping her hands back to her mouth. "Lady Cassandra Trevelyan!"
"Yvette!" Josephine nearly yelled. "Come, this is a private meeting, I will speak with you later.." The two Antivan woman trailed off in conversation as the Ambassador dragged her sister out the door.
Dane looked terrified. Cassandra stared at her hand, then at Leliana, who promptly burst into a rare bout of musical laughter. Cullen joined in, chuckling into his tea.
"It must have been some night, if you are proposing the very next morning." Leliana said slyly, grinning wider at the blush that bloomed on both Cassandra and Dane's faces.
"But onto other subjects. Inquisitor, there is someone you must meet before we take the last stretch to the Winter Palace."
Dane cleared his throat.
"Who is it?"
"Someone I imagine Cassandra will be both relieved and worried to see, as I was."
The Seeker frowned at Leliana, sifting through those she knew to try and work out who she meant.
"Hawke?" Dane asked.
The Spymaster shook her head in dismissal.
"They are quite eager to meet you both themselves. Come, I will take you to them."
[A.N] Thank you for all wonderful reads, reviews, follows and favourites! [/A.N]