Nostalgia from the Circle was never a pleasant feeling. Dane felt it wash over him as he followed Leliana and Cassandra into a small room the Spymaster had ushered them towards. The scent of armour oil, blood, and steel seemed to emanate from inside - as well as something else. Magic. But of a foreign, haunting kind the Inquisitor could not quite discern. In any case, it spoke power. Hands twitched at his side as he tread cautiously into the room.
Who greeted them was enough to make both he and Cassandra stop in their tracks.
He was tall, towering over everyone else in the room, well into the sixth foot of height. His silver armour was dulled and dented, far more imposing than a set gleaming and new.
Warden Commander Cousland.
The Inquisitor stood awkwardly next to Cassandra as the man embraced Leliana. It was an embrace that spoke more than any words. The pair were a wild contrast - he salt and pepper black, silver, and hulking. She, looking all too crushable in his arms, lips and cheeks matching the hue of her hair. The Spymaster smiled a brief grin to herself against his chest, eyes softer than they had been in months.
The Warden gave her one last gruff squeeze before addressing the others.
"You must be the Inquisitor."
Trevelyan nodded and offered his hand. Cousland accepted, and they shook. Grip firm and respectful.
The Warden turned his gaze to Cassandra. He assessed her for a moment longer, then surprised both guests by bowing low, silver armour creaking.
"Princess Cassandra. I meet you on behalf of the Wardens of Ferelden, and as one of the last two remaining Couslands. I have heard much of the Pentaghasts of Nevarra. It is an honour."
Dane looked first at Cassandra. Then back at the Warden. He looked deathly serious, taking no note of the blush blooming on the Seeker's face, or her wordless reply. The Inquisitor didn't know whether to laugh or feel jealous.
"In response to your letter, Inquisitor," The Warden-Commander continued. "Yes, I can offer assistance."
Trevelyan widened his eyes, not expecting that answer. Neither had Leliana, seemingly, as her neutral mask faded into curiosity.
"In the form of one just as important to me as who you are lucky enough to already possess." Cousland gestured a finger to Leliana.
"Who?" Cassandra had regained her voice.
The Warden smiled. It was a not a smile of warmth of mirth. Dane felt chills stir on his spine, likening the show very literally to a predator baring its teeth in warning.
"My wife."
Cousland raised his left hand. A band of smooth, polished wood adorned his ring finger. It seemed to shimmer as his fingers curled closed.
"I will accompany you to the Winter Palace, if it is agreeable," He continued. "And there you shall meet her."
The Warden spoke no more, only tugged Leliana closer for a one armed hug, and gave the other two a nod of his head. His blue cloak brushed against the doorframe as he swept out.
Dane stood frozen, still trying to process what had just happened. Leliana gazed between the pair, noting even Cassandra's glimpse of apprehension. She laughed, tossing her head back so the purple hood fell to her shoulders.
"You two," She snickered, red lips wide in an honest smile. "By the Maker! You look like frightened schoolchildren."
Trevelyan whooshed out a dramatic breath. He rested a hand on Cassandra's shoulder for support, clutching the other to his chest.
"You might have warned us, Leliana!"
"What? Why?" She grinned, already knowing the answer.
"Well, for starters, that was who you guys were going to crown leader of this shi-" Cassandra sent him a look. "This sh.. Sharing, caring community," The Seeker rolled her eyes. "And secondly, 'eager' was a bit of an overstatement. Just a tiny one."
"Bah." Leliana waved her hand in dismissal.
Cassandra regained her composure, allowing herself a small smile at the disbelief plastered on Trevelyan's face. She turned to Leliana, trying to quash down the giddiness that occurred when she met a real life hero. It was Hawke all over again. She was glad Varric wasn't there.
"I was.. unaware that the Warden-Commander was married." She said, tempering out the excitement from her voice.
"I know, I'm heartbroken too," Dane quipped before Leliana could reply. "Oh well. Guess we'll just have to settle for eachother." He grinned and planted a kiss on the corner of Cassandra's mouth before she could smack him away.
Leliana's smile vanished, lips pulling into a line that reeked of distaste.
"Not in the eyes of the Maker," She muttered lowly. "But, yes. He and Lady Morrigan have been together for.. some time."
Dane's ears perked up at that. Cassandra's glee over the Warden was akin to his for the famous, or rather, infamous, Witch of the Wilds.
"The Morrigan? Daughter of Flemeth Morrigan?" He queried, failing to hide his excitement. Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him.
"Indeed," Leliana sighed. "She currently serves as Arcane Advisor to Empress Celene. I suspect we shall run into her at the Winter Palace. On her terms, of course."
"Maker! That would be just.." Trevelyan trailed off as he saw the look Cassandra was giving him. "..Average. I mean, if we can even fit it in. Many other nobles and.. people.. to meet, of course."
The Seeker rolled her eyes, moving to stand beside the Spymaster at the table she hovered over. Dane scratched at his stubble. 'Didn't quite avoid that one.'
He shifted to the window as the Seeker and the Spymaster pored over the schematic of the Winter Palace. It had been their favourite activity since the previous afternoon: discussing strategic spy placement, possible assassination points, blackmail and other such delights of courtly intrigue.
The road they were to travel that afternoon was dusty, and hot. Winter had not seemed to reach this part of Orlais, and the dirt shimmered in the heat rising in the distance as he looked. A pang of pain jolted up his arm, drawing his attention back to his body. A fresh crack had split into his left palm, branching out along his hand like the roots of an ancient tree. This addition was thin, sizzling with searing green fire. Its tip stopped above the knuckle of his ring finger.
The image of the Warden's polished ring wandered into his mind; anything to detract from the pain. The fissure was right where a band could cover its ugliness, coincidentally. Dane paused. He glanced over at Cassandra.
She was absorbed in her tactics discussion, hands splayed out over the blueprint. A smile crept on his lips despite his discomfort. He could see the gems he had given her peeking out from the chain she kept on her wrist.
He considered how a wedding band might look on her hand. Gold, he thought. It would compliment her skin tone. Perhaps an amethyst inlaid? She seemed to like purple, with her armour scheme. Or maybe diamond? Bright and dazzling like her. He grinned, reminding himself to worm that awful line into their next conversation.
It didn't take long before Cassandra noticed him staring. She glanced up, and Dane managed to hide his hand before she could spot the flaring under his skin. He blew her a kiss, and she sighed loud enough to earn Leliana's attention.
The mark pulsed for the rest of the day; insistent and demanding. Trevelyan paid it more attention than usual, constantly smoothing the new fissure alight on his ring finger.
"Inquisitor, I'm sorry, but I must say," Cullen paused as another fawning noble introduced herself to him. Trevelyan continued walking, not bothering to wait for the Commander to decline his millionth suitor. He caught up a second later. "Was it truly wise to bring Sera?"
Dane smirked to himself, returning the wink to the elf in mention across the room. She sat on an elegant marble balustrade, covertly tossing bits of cheese onto noble's hats below. Most of them were so big, it was likely the chunks of camembert wouldn't be found for days.
"Commander Cullen, Sera is an infinitely valuable asset to the Inquisition," Trevelyan began, seriousness in his voice the Commander didn't expect. It was short lived. "Plus if I get bored, I don't think there will be a richer opportunity to get wildly drunk than here. And we all know no-one is more fun than Sera when drink is involved."
"And this stuff," The Inquisitor proved his point by snagging a flute of sparkling wine from a passing server. "Is expensive. I'm only thinking of our finances."
Cullen huffed, bringing his palm to his face. Trevelyan clapped him on the shoulder with a grin, took a swig, and merged into the crowd.
Leliana watched him navigate the masses from her spot on the balcony above. The red dress uniforms assigned to the male members of the Inquisition was a colour chosen for more than fashion. Dim autumn hues were currently haute couture in Orlais, so the Inquisitor stood out like a ripe apple among rot.
The only thing to distract her observation was a scent. It brushed under her nose. 'So familiar,' She thought. It was tart: blackberries and parchment, and-
Leliana rose to her feet, the trail of her dress swishing softly against the marble floor.
Golden eyes met hers; unafraid, bold, and now.. Warm? That was new. And suspicious. Leliana frowned immediately. Dark lips widened into a smirk.
"Ah, I am so relieved our sisterly connection remains."
Leliana folded her arms, unsmiling. She assessed the other woman, and she had to admit- wait. No, surely not..
The red velvet.. The gold embroidery.. The jewelry..
The Spymaster met Morrigan's gaze sharply. A tug pulled at Leliana's lips, and she heard the woman sigh even before the words left her mouth.
"I seem to recall you saying you would 'sooner let Alistair dress you'."
The Inquisitor did not slip out of the crowd as easily as he had entered. Nobles seemed to make walls around the room; masked faces blank, gloved hands smacking with polite applause for the band. Frustration pushed to the surface as someone tried to lure him in to meet another Duke or Baroness. He pointed his elbows out, apologising profusely as he jutted his way through the crowd.
Eventually he exited to one of the marble staircases. He paused to suck in an exasperated breath, wishing he could take off the thick doublet. A flash of lapis-lazuli and a breath of musical laughter caught his attention. He gazed up. Josephine had her back to the balustrade above, talking animatedly with someone out of sight.
The Inquisitor darted up the staircase two at a time, ignoring the disapproving looks from all around. He might have unfashionably broken his ankle, after all.
"Oh, Josephine! Josephine!"
The Inquisitor very nearly turned back around. It was too late.
"Ah, Inquisitor! I have actually been looking for you."
Dane stepped forward, and folded at the waist. He kissed each of the Montilyet sister's hands in turn, earning a barely contained squeal from Yvette. He noted the crowd of young men loitering nearby, eyes nearly popping out of their skulls with how blatantly they stared at the two Antivan women. He brushed a finger across his lips, wondering how many of them had been brave enough to kiss their hands too.
'Best not to think about it.'
"May I ask how your evening is faring, Ladies?"
"Oh, grand Inquisitor!" Yvette forged ahead before Josephine had the chance to even open her mouth. "Did you see the dress the Empress has on? Oh, and the Duke.."
Dane smiled to himself, exchanging a knowing look with the Ambassador. Turns out they were lucky. Something in the crowd seemed to catch Yvette's attention. She stopped mid regale, mouth popped agape. The Inquisitor looked around, wondering if perhaps a dragon had crashed through the roof to halt her speech.
Not a dragon, but a dragon-slayer. And not through the roof, but wandering through the crowds, dress trailing behind her and wine in hand.
He heard Josephine let out a sweet sigh as she spotted just what her sister had.
"What?" Dane frowned as he looked through the crowds. He couldn't see what was so sigh-worthy. "Is it Cullen?" He could see the poor Commander being swarmed once more. And even he could see their fair-headed friend was looking rather handsome that evening.
"Are you blind, Inquisitor?" Yvette murmured, transfixed by the graceful stride of the Seeker as she slipped through the crowd.
"Apparently," He huffed, confused eyes settling on Josephine. The Ambassador wore a proud smile. "What was it?"
"Have you seen Cassandra this evening?"
Dane immediately snapped his gaze back to the crowds, searching for her. He heard Josephine and Yvette giggle, but he didn't mind.
"Was that who you were looking at? Where is she?" He craned his neck, but the music had changed and so the crowds seemed to thicken twice-fold.
Josephine tapped him on the arm, regaining his attention. The Inquisitor took a moment, but looked at her face, then down to her outstretched hand. She held two masks, both tasteful and colour co-ordinated. Not like some of the gaudy monstrosities he had seen floating around the room.
He accepted, letting out a small 'wow' to himself at the one obviously meant for Cassandra.
"She'll love it." He murmured, giving Josephine a grateful smile.
Josephine returned the gesture and lifted a delicate hand, pointing out over the crowd to the tier across the room.
"You see Cullen, my Lord?"
Dane looked for a moment, then located the crimson jacket again. The Commander had managed to escape, now dashing towards a settee.
"Yes."
"She is near him. Go and find her."
Trevelyan bowed once more to the Montilyet sisters, and left, his body particularly jutting and sharp as he merged back into the sea of people.
Cassandra sighed for the umpteenth time. She reclined on one of the overstuffed sofas dotted around the palace. Cullen plonked down at the other end, hair tousled and cheeks red as roses. He collected himself after a moment, turning to face the Seeker. She glared at him as his eyes widened.
"Cassandra! Wow, you look.."
"What?" She demanded.
"Well.. fantastic," Cullen scratched his neck; his usual nervous habit. "I never thought Josephine's plans of getting you into a dress would succeed."
The Seeker sniffed, hands fiddling with the flowing fabric covering her knees.
"Ah. Thank you. It was not my first choice." She admitted. Cullen laughed softly.
"First choice being full armour? A sword or three at your hip?"
That earned a small smile. She rolled her eyes, but nodded.
"Mine too," Cullen huffed, scratching moving to his collar. "This doublet is so itchy."
"There is a crowd of women waiting who seem quite eager to rid you of it."
The Commander blushed again, flopping back into the sofa.
"One of them managed to get my belt buckle undone!" He whispered, traumatised. Cassandra laughed into her hand. "My belt buckle!" He hissed. "I am the leader of the Inquisition's troops, for Andraste's sake!"
"And did you confront them?"
Cullen paused, gazing sheepishly at the floor.
"Well, no. I saw you and ran here, actually."
Cassandra snorted, picking up her wine glass from the nearby table. She took a sip, discreetly scanning through the crowds for a flash of bright crimson.
Her gaze stilled as a smattering of applause echoed upwards. The violins halted their gentle tune, morphing into a symphony undeniably for dancing. She set her wine back down, slipping through the people amassing at the balcony edge. She leant over the marble railing, hazel eyes searching below.
"Excuse me, Lady Cassandra."
The Seeker paused. If it was another seedy proposition by a portly noble, she was going to take Josephine hostage in exchange for her sword. She turned around. Trevelyan stood tall in front of her, most of his features obscured by a black and gold mask, angular wings of the Free Marcher insignia turning his face sharp. His shy smile peeked out from below the mask, however, and that she would recognise in a crowd of hundreds.
He extended his gloved hand, offering her a mask of her own. It was deep purple and silver, with the Eye of Andraste adorned in delicate filigree on the left temple. She accepted it, more out of curiosity than anything.
"I have been looking for you all night." Dane murmured, trailing off as he took her in. He had located her by the sweep of her jet black hair, for certainly he would not have recognised her by her clothes.
The Seeker waited for him to stop gawping, feeling more than a little self-conscious in a maskas well as a dress. It was an unpleasant sensation, and she shifted from foot to foot.
"Maker's balls.."
Cassandra nearly groaned. Of course that was his exclamation.
Trevelyan struggled to collect himself, glad the mask he wore obscured the stupid blush on his cheeks. He reached for Cassandra's hand, intertwining his fingers with her own.
"Would-" The Inquisitor paused to clear his throat. "Would you have this dance with me, Lady Cassandra?"
The Seeker nodded, almost imperceptibly. Trevelyan beamed. They wandered down to the dance floor, crowds parting at the beautiful couple they made, like reeds in the wind. They slipped into the rhythm of the dance seamlessly; hands settling on shoulders and waists; home.
Crowds of nobles gossiped and whispered, spreading word of the gentle pirouette of the Inquisitor and the Seeker, until nearly the whole hall was transfixed with the pair. Neither in mention noticed, happily falling into the age old cliche of being lost in eachother.
Vivienne glanced up from a scandalous conversation, spying the pair swirling through the crowd from the corner of her eye. None would dare to mention this to her, but more than one Baron, Comtesse, and even perhaps an Empress, saw the upward twitch of Madame de Fer's lips as she watched.
Morrigan sipped from her goblet at her perch at the throne end of the Hall. The Empress, the Duke, and Briala had all returned to their bickering after a brief introduction with the most notary guests.
Golden eyes followed one of such lofty visitors. The Inquisitor, as he danced in the crowds below. The Duchess, Florianne, had claimed his second dance, much to his obvious reluctance. She would bet no money that the man would have happily danced with the first woman all night.
Absently she thumbed the ring on her left hand. It was warm against the ever present chill of her fingers. The stares between the Inquisitor and his partner had reminded her of her Warden, truth be told. Morrigan glanced down, noting the way the pattern of the wood seemed to swirl as she thought of him. She hummed to herself, wondering if the spell had somehow waned.
After all, it was a very curious atmosphere in the palace this evening. Kieran had been the one to bring her attention to it, in fact. The Fade had betrayed arrivals of many, though discerning just whom the spirits sought was the challenge. From several days out, she had felt strengths pressing against the Veil. They whispered of power, of souls ancient and very, very thirsty.
The Inquisitor's was such a one. One of the first that she could label as powerful, in fact. The surprise, was that his match was much older than the years apparent on his face. It was more than curious, and even more curious that his was not the only old soul in the Inquisition.
A tingle spread from the ring's touch as she thought. Somewhere her Warden had felt her concentration. Morrigan rolled her eyes. Now he was amused, apparently. The ring flashed hot, and she grew suspicious. He was too tangible; considering his last letter had been several days out from Orlais. Concern began to nibble at her, and she straightened, discreetly scanning her surroundings.
The instinct to fly faded. His scent preceded him. A surprise, it was to be. He still tried, even though she beat him every time. A weathered hand enveloped her softer, smaller one, and the Witch of the Wilds smiled for the second time that evening.
"Dorian." The Inquisitor wrapped an arm around his Tevinter friend's shoulders, ushering him away from the center of the moonlit courtyard. Dane had made a hasty exit from the Hall after his enlightening waltz with the Duchess.
"Why hello to you too, Inquisitor," Dorian's breath was tinted with wine. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He picked over the hors d'oeuvres laid upon a satin tablecloth. Manicured fingers lingered above a delicate salmon crostini. He grabbed another drink instead. 'Eating is cheating', as Bull would say, after all.
"Over there," Dane whispered into Dorian's shoulder, breath tickling his neck. The mage glanced up discreetly, draining his chalice in the process. "Two men by the archway. They're speaking Tevene, are they not?"
Dorian paused for a moment, fading out the various whispers and gossip of the nobles around them. He recognised the subtle dip and lull of the mother tongue rolling off lips nearby.
"You have quite the ear, Inquisitor." Dorian replied, his eyes narrowing as he tuned into the conversation. "They're discussing.. The Duke? The Duchess?" He shifted a bit from the table, trying to get a clearer audience.
Dane joined him, eyes scanning the crowd for anyone watching. Most were. Several women eyed him like cats that had spotted the canary. Trevelyan returned his arm to Dorian's shoulder, hoping that would deter them. It didn't.
"Good evening, Inquisitor." A new woman appeared, swooping in close enough to obstruct his entire field of view.
Trevelyan resisted the urge to huff, instead forcing a smile. He bowed, glancing over the emerald and cream dress she wore. Her hair was a rich chestnut, and her voice was sultry. She seemed familiar, though the sheer amount of introductions he had been subjected to turned most masked faces into a shapeless blur.
"Good evening, Mademoiselle."
The woman smiled behind her mask, eyes indifferent as she offered her hand. Dane accepted it, lips cool on her skin. Her fingers were tiny in his own, thinner and more delicate than even that of a child's.
"My name is Briala, Monsieur Trevelyan. Might I have a word?"
"I would love to, Briala, but I am afraid I have something very important to discuss with my friend here."
"No, no, don't be silly, Inquisitor," Dorian spoke up, voice rich and smile charming. "We can talk later. Good evening, Briala." Dorian bowed to the elven woman, and took the opportunity to warn Trevelyan with a whisper as he passed.
"That's Celene's Ambassador, Dane. And former lover. Just thought you should know." The mage sauntered off after, wine in hand.
Trevelyan returned his gaze to Briala, masking his features with what he hoped was a suave smile.
"It seems I was mistaken. You have my undivided attention, Madame. Shall we?" He looped his arm with hers in one fluid movement, gesturing with his other hand to pathway that wound deeper into the gardens.
Briala only smiled behind her mask, and took a graceful step forward.
[A.N] And so Halam'shiral is upon us! Long chapter, hopefully it didn't drag on too much for you guys to read through! The usual MASSIVE thank you to all reads, reviews, favs and follows, and to all of you who checked out my other quick oneshot.
I've also got a bunch of unused drafts and fluffy prompts of the Cass x Quiz relationship that I'm thinking about uploading as just a random collection of oneshots, probably. If you guys are interested and/or would like to submit some ideas or prompts for me to write, let me know! [/A.N]