Chapter Text
The sun rose late in the Hunterhorns but Cassandra was already at work; splitting logs and passing them on to the carpenter to shape into planks. The others around her were either assembling the wood into makeshift shelters or handling supplies. Sweat beaded down her forehead despite the crisp air, plastering her hair to the back of her neck.
They had managed to build a small village in the valley they had discovered; tucked into a forgotten corner of the mountains, only accessible by a narrow tunnel through the rock. The last two months had not been easy however; there was ample forest and game, but the snowstorms were brutal and many a soldier had been lost in a bear attack. Once they had built a fence around the perimeter of their village, they had seen fewer lives lost then, but it was only the first step of a long, long path. A path she hoped she could lead them through.
“Lady Cassandra, there is a caravan approaching!” The scout breathed heavily as she spoke, even as she saluted her. “Inquisition banners. It looks to be the supplies and new recruits.”
“Thank you, Brennan. Tell the guards to open the gates. I shall greet them myself.”
Josephine had sent word of a shipment of supplies and former Inquisition soldiers that were to be arriving soon. Since the Inquisition had disbanded, there were many troops in excess that were still willing to serve a cause, and Josephine had pointed them in her direction. Leliana had screened them personally, and had reassured Cassandra that they could be trusted, which helped allay her fears. After what had happened with the Order of Fiery Promise and Fen’harel’s spies, she had many a reason to be cautious with recruits, especially from within the Inquisition.
They had set off from Skyhold a month ago, and considering the distance between the Frostbacks and the Hunterhorns, it meant that they were yet to arrive. This could only be them.
Standing at the gates that had been thrown open, she shielded her eyes from the sun’s glare so as to look at the newcomers better. There were three caravans and an assorted number of horses escorting them, but there was also something else that stood out. It was a horned creature, picking its way through the horses with ease as it made its way to the front of the party. By the time she recognized it, the others were already beginning to point and shout, and her heart jumped into her throat.
A red hart.
She was halfway across the clearing before she realized her feet were carrying her. The hart seemed to recognize her, and it snorted as it broke into a trot. She could see its rider as it drew closer; a small hooded figure that held the reins with one hand, the other hidden under his cloak.
With each step towards it, towards him, she began to remember her last moments at Skyhold, just before she was to depart for the Hunterhorns. His hand in hers, warm in the summer sunlight, his lips curving into a smile despite his tears. How he promised to write to her, promised a lot of things she knew he couldn’t care less about if he could be by her side, if he weren’t still the Inquisitor. Skyhold’s halls were empty and most of their friends had departed, but he still had work to do, even after everything.
Cadash had been through so much, what with the Breach and Corypheus and every person of note from both Ferelden and Orlais breathing down his neck, how life just took and took and took from him until it was a miracle he was even able to stand it, let alone smile at her the way he did. He would always deny how strong he was, how he would shoulder everything, especially for those he cared for.
He was the one who had insisted that she should go forward with rebuilding the Seekers, and that he would be alright by himself, but she had only made the decision to leave once she felt he was truly able to cope with the aftermath of the Exalted Council. Even now, he would pause mid-conversation and stare into space, his fingers grasping at a limb that was no longer there. His smile was still tinged with sadness, his words not as light as they once were. There was a limit to the pain the Inquisitor could endure and she feared that he had reached it.
That was another thing about him – how he would always put another’s happiness over his own, even if it destroyed him in the process.
The worst of it was that despite what he would say, he needed her. He had drawn strength from her presence, her love through everything, especially in the last few months. And now she was leaving, her heart heavy and aching for the man she loved, worried at how he would cope alone.
It tore at both of them, and she could feel his sorrow in his embrace, the way his breath hitched as she whispered her love into his ear. She wished she could have stayed in his arms but the foot-soldier had readied her horse and the gates had been thrown open. They were out of time.
Before she pulled away, she pressed a kiss to his lips. A promise that she would return to him.
The hart stopped right in front of her, pawing the ground as its breath ruffled her hair gently. She reached out and stroked its muzzle in greeting, all the while watching the figure dismount from the corner of her eye, unable to truly believe that it was him.
Cadash slid off the hart with only a little difficulty and pulled the hood off his head. His hair was long enough to be tied into a ponytail, and his cheeks were covered is more than a week’s worth of stubble, but when he turned to her his eyes burned.
Longing. Exhilaration. Love.
Before he could say anything, her fingers closed the distance between them, brushing the stubble on his cheeks as she pressed a kiss to his lips, drowning herself in his warmth, the scent and feel of him drawing the dormant ache in her chest to the surface after all these months. She had missed him, she would not deny it, but with the demands of the Seekers she had pushed her emotions aside until now.
He was here and in her arms and the world felt a little less cold.
“I’ve missed you.”
“As have I.”