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Cassandra wiped the blood off her sword on her elegant trousers before sheathing it. With Corypheus’ agent, the Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons, dead, the War of the Lions had officially ended. The Grand Duchess’ corpse was lying still in a pool of her own blood by her feet, wearing a wry expression under her mask. Around her, various Inquisition members were removing the bodies of the Grand Duchess’ entourage, cleaning up the mess Trevelyan’s party made when fighting them. The blood probably won’t disappear until someone will scrub the pavement. She had her fair share of trying to remove blood from her surroundings.
A tug on her sleeve interrupted her train of thought.
“Long night, Seeker?”
Varric looked at her with a lazy grin. There were small red droplets in his hair, trickling down his face, leaving a trace behind. Bloodshed seemed to follow her everywhere, staining her and everyone she kept around.
“I could ask the same of you, Varric.” The dwarf’s posture was slouched and his cheeks were flushed from exertion.
“Well, stopping a civil war isn’t exactly a low-effort activity. But you seem… thoughtful, somehow.”
Cassandra looked down at her blood-stained trousers, at her dirty shoes. Every drop of blood was a drop of life. Of someone else’s life, who had to die, so she could live. Oftentimes, the people whose lives she ended deserved it, but the weight of everything caught up with her every now and then.
“Something bothering you?”
‘The number of people that die at my hands’, she thought bitterly.
Trevelyan chose that exact moment to call the party to regroup and head back in the palace. Cassandra shook her head and started heading towards the palace doors, trying to stop herself from slipping into melancholy at such an inopportune moment.
-
“Now, the Inquisitor and I will need to retreat and discuss the extent of Orlais’ support of the Inquisition, but, in the meantime, do please feel free to enjoy the rest of the party.”
Empress Celene, still glowing, despite having just been threatened to death by the Grand Duchess, beckoned Trevelyan to follow her. Josephine, Leliana and Cullen were right behind her, and Josephine gestured to them to leave. Dorian lightened up visibly.
“No need to tell me twice!” He dusted his shoulders and ran a hand through his clean, shiny hair. He cleaned everyone up with his magic a few minutes after regrouping outside the palace, but he probably still felt the need to primp himself, which Cassandra did not understand at all. “See you at dawn,” he said distractedly, his eyes zeroing in on a dashing young man. Varric and Cassandra shared an amused look.
“And then there were none.” Varric took a moment to survey the entire ballroom before turning back to Cassandra. “I guess I’m stuck with you, Seeker. So, what do you wanna do?”
She let her eyes roam over the dwarf’s figure, now devoid of any trace of blood. The golden thread that was sown in the elegant shirts complemented Varric’s hair. As did the lights in the Grand Ballroom. He truly was a sight for sore, battle-hardened eyes. Maybe she stared for too long, because Varric’s lips stretched into a smirk.
“Option one, stare at the dwarf, got it. Option two?” Cassandra let out an exasperated huff.
“Gut dwarf. I’m strongly leaning towards option two.” Varric laughed.
“Yeah, yeah. But really now, what do you wanna do? I’m too tired to mingle by myself.” He snatched a nearby glass of champagne and took a sip from it.
“That was someone else’s glass.” Varric’s smile was blinding.
“Life’s too short not to enjoy it, Seeker,” he said, twirling the glass in his hand. A servant carrying a heavy platter caught his attention. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Wanna go eat?”
Cassandra followed him wordlessly to a banquet table in the corner of the Grand Ballroom. Appetizing meats and hearty side dishes were covering every inch of the tabletop. When she laid her eyes on a juicy piece of beef steak she felt her stomach rumbling, almost painfully. She grabbed an empty plate and a fork and leaned in towards the food.
“Bon appetit,” Varric said while cutting a piece of fish in half. Cassandra nodded mindlessly.
They ate in silence for a few moments, the both of them too hungry to try and hold a conversation. When she stopped feeling hunger pangs, she turned to Varric, and witnessed him wrestling with a roasted turkey. He was looking so silly, trying his hardest to gently rip one of the drumsticks. She couldn’t help it.
“Having trouble, I presume?” He followed the sound of her voice, his face turning sour. Cassandra noticed that his cheeks were still flushed, just like they were back in the palace garden.
“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” He gave up on his current strategy, only to grab a polished knife, which he used to slice through the turkey. He held the drumstick in his fingers, waggling it slightly as proof before bringing it to his mouth and biting off half of it. Cassandra sighed.
“You brought us to such a secluded table only to try and attract attention through your obnoxious eating, didn’t you, dwarf?” None of the masked nobles seemed to look at them though, which Cassandra was thankful for. The Orlesians needed to take the Inquisition seriously, which meant that seeing the former Right Hand of the Divine engage in tomfoolery with the author, storyteller, occasional unwelcome tag-along Varric Tethras couldn’t do the cause any good.
“I don’t want anyone else’s attention, Seeker. Yours is more than enough,” he purred from behind a fork that was overflowing with mashed potatoes. Cassandra instantly rolled her eyes at the flirty remark. She begrudgingly accepted that she was somehow attracted to him, but these meaningless taunts got on her nerves now as much as they did when they first met.
“So,” he said through a mouthful of food, “you looked a little down back in the palace gardens. Before you could tell me anything, her Inquisitorialness called us. Is there something wrong?” His eyes were emanating concern and his lips were stretched into an understanding smile.
“If there was, why should I tell you?”
“Because, as your friend, I want to try and help you.” He averted her gaze, choosing to stare somewhere to his right instead. “Or at least take your mind off of it.”
Cassandra turned her eyes to the center of the Ballroom, to the spotless marble floors where, not even an hour ago, Grand Duchess Florianne’s minions killed some of the Inquisition’s soldiers. The white of the marble was immaculate, the loss of said men already forgotten by the nobles. But not by everyone.
“So many people die around me. It is such a waste.”
Varric wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, his heavy gaze now trained on her. He understood.
“I know how you feel. Here,” he paused for a second. “At Haven, or back in Kirkwall.” He took a deep breath. “The death, the tragedy, it’s relentless.”
Before Cassandra could begin to think about other, more upsetting topics, Varric put his hand on her shoulder, putting a stop to her downward spiral. The weight of his hand felt comforting and warm.
“But we won’t get much further by getting stuck in the past. We are here, we are alive, and that’s enough for me.” He squeezed her shoulder and gave her a sweet smile. “I hope it’s enough for you.”
Her lips moved on their own accord, forming something akin to a smile, which did not go unnoticed. Varric’s grin turned brighter.
“There you go!” He took away his hand, leaving Cassandra’s shoulder feeling cold. Still, she was in a much better mood thanks to him. She envied his ability to offer comfort.
“Thank you, Varric. Really.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
The sound of shattered glass broke the moment and drew their attention. A masked woman threw her entire glass of wine at a man, whose silken shirt was stained red. She paid the dramatic scene no mind, because the dark bottle of wine a servant was carrying was more interesting. Alcohol sounded good after such a long day.
“Yikes,” Varric commented.
“I’d like some wine.” She paused awkwardly, trying not to feel the embarrassment that threatened to swallow her whole. “Would you… like to drink with me?” Varric stood up from the chair before she could blink.
“You have absolutely no idea how much I do, Seeker.” The grin on his face felt oddly sincere. “Lead the way!”
Cassandra got out of her chair and walked towards the servant she had her eyes on, Varric one step behind. After receiving the bottle from the man, Cassandra gestured to the stairs.
“I’ve had enough of shiny Orlesian masks. Let’s go drink outside.”
“Sounds good,” came the reply.
They passed Dorian and his conquest at some point, who were one wandering hand away from being indecent. Cassandra felt her cheeks blush at the public display of affection. She tightened her grip on the bottle of wine.
“Do kisses with tongue always make you blush, Seeker?” Her embarrassment transformed into annoyance. “Is that why you only read ‘Swords and Shields’ when you are alone? So no one can see you with a pink face?”
“Not all of us are born exhibitionists, dwarf. Some of us are born tall,” she said through a smirk.
“Thank you for the reminder.” Varric’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
The inner garden was deserted, probably because the guests were still shaken by the discovery of the bodies and preferred to stay inside. Luckily, no deaths occurred there, so Cassandra had no pools of blood to obsess over. They walked to a small bench next to the fountain and sat down. The air was chilly, but it was bearable, and the sky above them was full of stars. With the Breach gone, and the immediate threat neutralized, Cassandra took a second to just look up at the sky.
“I never had you pegged as the romantic type, Seeker.” Varric’s voice was velvet. Cassandra turned to him, hands fiddling with the bottle of wine.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you see, back at Skyhold, or, uh,” the dwarf stuttered, which was unusual for a self-proclaimed storyteller. He took a deep breath before opening his mouth again. “When you’re around other people, you’re brash and rough around the edges and most people just stop right there, that’s all they think of you. But only a romantic could look at the night sky like that.” Cassandra didn’t know how to read his face. “Takes one to know one.”
“And you find it surprising?”
“I find it sweet.”
Cassandra forced herself not to show any emotion. She diverted her attention to the bottle in her lap.
“I can open that for you, give it to me.” Cassandra reluctantly gave him the bottle, and Varric opened it with one of his daggers. The wine smelled rich and she couldn’t wait for the alcohol to warm her up a little more. She then watched the dwarf take a big swig from the bottle, before passing it to her.
“People tend to use glasses.” She eyed the bottle suspiciously, but took it when she realized they didn’t bring glasses with them.
“Well, to begin with, you didn’t bring any, and we’ve been on the same side for so long, I believe we can afford to share a drink like this.” Cassandra rolled her eyes and Varric laughed, but she still drank. The wine was perfect on her tongue. She gave Varric the bottle back with a smile on her face.
“I suppose it’s not that bad, drinking together with you.”
“You honor me, Seeker. By the way, did you see how many potential suitors Cullen attracted tonight?”
-
“There’s no way you wrote all of ‘Swords and Shields’ from experience, dwarf!” Cassandra raised her hand and waggled her finger at her conversation partner, who was currently holding onto a railing for dear life as they tried to walk up a flight of stairs. They finished the entire bottle of wine on that bench in the garden and judging by the buzz that thrummed in her veins and Varric’s droopy eyelids, they must have gotten drunk. They were on a mission to reach the Ballroom again, maybe find someone from the Inquisition that could take care of them.
“Dwarves get laid too! ‘s not my fault you lived under a rock with your Seekers half your life,” Varric slurred. His hair was ruffled, and his face glimmered with sweat. Under the lights of the Winter Palace, he was the most beautiful man Cassandra had ever met. However, the remark annoyed her, so she huffed in exasperation.
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” Varric nodded. “Then stop it!” He burst out laughing.
“C’mon, Seeker, ‘m just joking with you!” He winked at her, which Cassandra decidedly did not find attractive. In fact, she found it repulsive enough to stop walking and turn her back to him.
“It’s a joke to you, but to me it isn’t,” she sneered. Behind her, Varric pouted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Cassandra felt very tired all of a sudden, so she sat down on the stairs, holding her head in her hands. Varric joined her. He was sat close to her, close enough for her to feel the heat he radiated.
“You… you lived! You laughed, you had fun, you fell in love, you felt your heartbeat in your ears, all that and so much more!” She could feel her eyebrows knit into a frown, but that didn’t matter. What did was that she was jealous of his life. “All I did throughout most of my life was fight, while separating myself from others, so that nothing would stop me from fulfilling my duties to the Order. But you,” she turned towards him. “You, Varric, you lived a life of passion!” Varric dropped his head in his hands as well, while observing how she was now staring forlornly at the Ballroom’s floor. “I never even had the experience of a dance with someone I care about,” she mumbled.
“Cut the bullshit, Seeker! You tryna tell me you never danced with some big buff noble who wanted to get in your pants at some nobly party in Nevarra before?” Cassandra huffed angrily.
“None of the suitors Uncle found for me were interesting!”
“You can’t say that ‘cause you never danced with any of ‘em!” Varric wiped the sweat from his palms on his trousers and stood up in front of Cassandra, hand in front of her. “Tell you what, I’ll dance with you.” She squinted at him, eyes narrowing down to a slit.
“For what purpose?” Varric rolled his eyes and tried to grab one of her hands with his own, jolting her up.
“So you’ll stop moping! You shouldn’t be sad,” he slurred. Cassandra smiled softly and allowed herself to be hoisted up.
“You know, if you keep flirting with me whenever we’re together, I might just believe it.” She didn’t remember wanting to say her thought out loud, but she couldn’t take it back now. She felt her face heat up.
“Let yourself believe it once in a while.” Cassandra noticed that, even if she was standing already, he didn’t let go of her hand. “You don’t know how beautiful you are.” The compliment made her feel as though butterflies were fluttering in her stomach, but she didn’t know how to respond, so she let the conversation fall into silence until they reached the Ballroom’s floor, hand in hand.
Two or three couples of nobles who had too much to drink were swaying to the music of the orchestra. Overwhelmed with excitement, having long forgotten anything that wasn’t Varric’s hand in hers, she dragged him to the middle of the room. The dwarf could barely keep up with Cassandra’s pace, but that didn’t stop him from flashing her a shit-eating grin when he caught wind of her impatience.
“Someone really wants to dance with this dwarf, Seeker,” he bragged. His hands were awkwardly positioned around her waist and she placed her arms around his neck while rolling her eyes.
“The dwarf offered, if I recall. Now dance with me.”
His expression softened.
“Your wish is my command.” Varric was smiling so sweetly at her, he was watching her face with nothing but pure adoration.
Cassandra started thinking that there could be a possibility that her feelings were requited.
Their dance, if it could be called such a thing, was nothing but Cassandra taking a step forward and then a step back while holding onto Varric. Whenever they parted even a little she found that keeping her balance was much harder without his sturdy arms, so she tried to gently get him to come closer to her. Soon, they were chest to chest, and Cassandra’s heart was so full.
“Hey, Seeker,” Varric whispered. “Down here.”
She leaned in towards him, wanting to hear him better, but the next thing she knew was that she could focus on nothing but his lips, and that they were getting closer, and closer, until he closed the distance between them in a kiss.
Despite how dizzy the both of them were, the kiss was feather soft, Cassandra found. It ended when they ran out of air, but she couldn’t help herself from bringing her hand to cup Varric’s face, her thumb rubbing his cheek. She couldn’t help but come clean as well.
“I… have passionate feelings.” She breathed in. “For you. For a while now.” Varric leaned into her touch.
“As do I, Cassandra. I’m very passionate about you.”
This time, it was Cassandra who captured their lips into another kiss.
-
“How much do you think she remembers?” A voice whispered somewhere around her. Her eyes weren’t open and something inside her told her that she wanted them to stay closed. A headache was drilling through her forehead.
“After half a bottle of the South’s strongest wine?” This voice had a strange accent, maybe a little irritating. “If she remembers us killing the Duchess, I’ll be surprised.”
The irritating person was shushed. Silence fell over Cassandra’s surroundings for a moment.
“I think she’s waking up. You might want to leave, just let me handle her.” A door promptly opened thereafter. “That means you’ll deal with Varric, of course.” Her stomach stirred at the mention of Varric, but that’s rather normal for her.
“Let’s pray to the Maker that he wakes up before the caravan Josephine sent for us gets here.” A woman giggled. “I am not carrying him again, Inquisitor!”
Enough is enough. She opened her eyes.
“Good morning, Seeker Pentaghast.” After adjusting to the painfully bright light, she saw that Trevelyan was in the room, together with Dorian, who had one foot out the door. She had absolutely no recollection of falling asleep on this bed. “We came by to check on you, because of last night.”
Last night, when they had unraveled the Grand Duchess’ assassination plot?
“But I didn’t get injured in the fight against the Grand Duchess, Inquisitor.” Her eyebrows furrowed, because Trevelyan was biting down a smile. Dorian nearly doubled over with laughter, but he had the decency to leave the room before she could take personal offense.
“No, it’s about what happened…” Trevelyan paused, unsure of how to phrase her words. “Later that night.” The Inquisitor eyed her expectantly, as if Cassandra should remember something. The fact that she couldn’t remember much after the fight was increasingly concerning.
She decided to retrace her actions, hoping to find whatever had the Inquisitor worried about her. First, the splattering of blood around her had made her feel down, then they had briefly met with Empress Celene, who had told them to enjoy the remainder of the ball. Dorian had left immediately, leaving Cassandra alone with Varric. They had eaten, he had comforted her, and they had gone outside with a bottle of wine.
Cassandra’s stomach was filled with liquid dread.
“Did I have too much to drink last night?”
Trevelyan’s expression was sympathetic, but her eyes were glowing strangely.
“You had half a bottle of Orlais’s strongest wine, the kind that sneaks up on you. When Josie and I… found you, we were pleasantly surprised to see you weren’t sick. Well, we were surprised by other things too,” she replied, mumbling the latter sentence. Other things?
“I would like to apologize for behaving like a fool in front of every Orlesian noble family. I am sorry for the damage I have done to the Inquisition’s image.” Cassandra bowed her head, feeling disappointed by her thoughtless actions.
“Don’t be silly, everyone has nights like these.”
Trevelyan petted the top of her head, as if she were a Mabari one had to cheer up. It felt a little demeaning, but she appreciated the thought behind the gesture.
“Even while drunk, you never behaved too out of line. You were no Iron Bull after Grey Warden scotch, Cassandra.” That was reassuring. “All the alcohol did to you was make you… bolder.”
Cassandra raised her head to a cheesing Inquisitor.
“That’s why I’m here, actually. You know, you’d think that spending weeks together stranded in the middle of nowhere, fighting demons and red templars and Maker-knows-what-else would make you see certain things in people.”
“What do you mean?”
“I honestly thought your bickering with Varric was just that, not that that was the way the two of you were flirting with each other,” Trevelyan divulged. Cassandra could feel her face heat up, her heartbeat picking up, and the dread in her gut rising up to her neck.
“Oh no, Inquisitor, please don’t tell me last night’s foolishness involved Varric,” she pleaded, but to no avail. Trevelyan nodded twice, her grin widening. She huffed sharply.
“I will never hear the end of this, will I?”
“Don’t you want to know what you did?” The Inquisitor’s tone briefly reminded her of the girls who would gather together in her school’s yard, whispering about which boy they fancied, telling and hearing stories with perfect concentration. The Inquisitor’s tone was childish.
“Absolutely not,” Cassandra responded firmly. She got out from under the woolen blanket, sitting on the unfamiliar bed in the elegant costume from last night. The bloodstain on the thigh of her trousers felt grounding somehow, because she perfectly remembered when she made it.
“Why?”
“Because that’s for the best. I don’t need to know what happened in order to ignore it.” The thought saddened her, but not knowing truly was for the best. Corypheus was her first priority, the Inquisition should be able to fully count on her, she shouldn’t waste her time dreaming about her schoolgirl crush on Varric. Her duty was far more important.
She could hide behind the shield of her duty like a coward.
She stood up and Trevelyan reached for the door.
“If you say so.” She opened the door, turning her head over her shoulder, looking at Cassandra one more time. “Good luck out there.”
Cassandra stared at the door as the Inquisitor was closing it. As it seemed, another long day stretched ahead of her.
-
“Good morning, Mrs. Tethras!” Dorian was just as annoying as ever, his dark eyes gleaming with delight at the thought of teasing her. He was sitting at the table in the servants’ kitchen, a drink in a dainty cup in his hand. The palace allowed them to have breakfast before leaving, which Cassandra was thankful for. She desperately needed to eat something.
“Spare me,” she replied curtly, taking a seat on the opposite side of the table. She saw the slices of bread with jam and butter the servants had prepared for them on a big plate and reached out for one.
“I don’t intend to, no,” added Dorian with his honeyed voice. He took a sip from his cup and positioned himself towards her. “So, what now?”
“Nothing. I don’t know what happened last night, and I don’t want to.” The hungover deepened her voice. “It was a mistake, that’s all there is to it.”
Dorian raised his eyebrows in surprise before abandoning his drink.
“Harsh.” He stood up and left the table.
With the nuisance gone, she could eat her breakfast in peace. She took a big bite of a slice of bread.
“Alright then,” a small voice said behind her. When she turned, following its sound, she found Varric. He had bags under his barely open eyes and sleep lines etched into his cheek. His face was expressionless.
“Varric…” He startled her. “Do you remember anything?”
“I hold my liquor better than most people, Seeker Penthagast.” His voice had a darker tone to it. “But I agree with you, I made a mistake.” He sat down quietly, helping himself to any food other than the bread and jam, which was in front of her. Her heart sank, but her blood was boiling.
“Great,” she said pointedly.
When she tried to grab a piece of what seemed to be leftover roasted turkey, she missed, bending the fork with her fist.
-
Things were uneventful after the tense breakfast. Cassandra tried her hardest to avoid Varric everywhere she went. It had not been easy, considering that they were currently in a caravan, whose destination was three days away.
Dorian and Trevelyan were cramped together on one seat, assessing their magical abilities through silly tricks like growing flowers from the tips of their fingers, breathing fire and changing their hair colors, while Cassandra and Varric were sitting as far from the other as possible. She wouldn’t even dare let her eyes roam in his direction, so she had settled for reading one of her books, which was decidedly not the latest ‘Swords and Shields’. She could barely make it through one line without thinking about the damage she had made to her relationship with one of the most important people in her life. Maybe if she knew what actually happened between them, she would understand his reaction, but she had willingly chosen ignorance.
The caravan coming to a halt snapped her out of it.
“Rift ahead!” came the yell of the charioteer, and that was all the four of them needed to get their weapons and jump out.
Cassandra separated herself from the party, fearlessly approaching the rift. When a rage demon spotted her, she drew out her sword and struck, slicing the creature in half once, twice, three times. A terror demon popped up in front of her and she attacked it, yelling, aiming for the head.
Her plan was to take out all of her frustrations on the demons they needed to kill until Trevelyan could seal the rift. She stepped on the remains of the terror as a precaution, crushing them beneath her heel, when she heard the tell-tale screech of a despair demon. Before she could do anything, someone threw themselves in her, getting her out of the way and taking the damage of the icy blast in her stead. Cassandra did not see who saved her, because the grass was tall and they probably fell, but she did not need more incentive to charge towards the demon, squashing it between her shield and a tree. She did not stop pushing her shield into the body of the creature until the tree broke in half, taking pleasure in hearing the squelching sounds of the demon’s guts falling out.
“Cassandra, I sealed the rift, you can stop!”
Trevelyan’s announcement took her by surprise. When the despair demon’s remains vanished, she turned back, searching for the rest of the party. Trevelyan and Dorian were close to one another, catching their breaths, their staves still glowing with uncast spells, but Varric was nowhere to be found. She kept looking around for the dwarf, her heart skipping a beat for every second in which she didn’t see him. Her hands started shaking.
“Where is Varric?” Her voice was dangerously close to breaking.
“He took the hit when the despair demon you gored attacked you. I cast a barrier over him but he still hasn’t woken up.”
Dorian’s words weren’t very comforting, but she kept her hope and ran to the place Varric pushed her out of the demon’s way. She found him lying on his back, eyes closed, tan skin tinged blue, steam rising around him from the difference in temperature. The lack of blood on his body somehow made everything feel much, much worse. Cassandra dropped to her knees and checked his pulse.
She couldn’t feel anything.
“Varric, no!” Tears were welling up in her eyes, her throat was all knots, she couldn’t breathe.
The memory of their last moments together, the lengths to which the both of them went to avoid each other, the silent treatment, the cold air between them came to her mind, followed by something else. Varric presenting her with a new volume of ‘Swords and Shields’ before even giving it to his editor. Varric telling her stories of the Champion that didn’t end in tragedy over the campfire when it was her turn to stay up and watch over the tents. The two of them passing a bottle of wine back and forward under the starry sky at Halamshiral.
“You can’t die now!” It wasn’t supposed to be this way. “Not when I still love you!” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand before grabbing his shoulders and shaking them.
“I love you too, but you’re terrible at checking for a pulse, Seeker,” came a reply from below. Varric was coughing, struggling to keep his eyes slit open. Cassandra was left dumbfounded.
“You’re alive! But…” The words died in her mouth, all she could do was smile at him through her tears. He brought his hand to her face, running his thumb over her cheek.
“ But nothing, now.” Cassandra leaned into his touch, even though it was cold. “I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if you died in front of me.”
She looked into his amber eyes, afraid of speaking any more. They stood in silence for a few moments, until Varric caught his breath.
“I remember everything that happened last night, and I was angry when you said that everything was a mistake, because I meant everything I said, even if I said it drunk. I was angry when I heard you say you didn’t even want to know what happened, because that hurt me. But I overreacted, I should have known you value you duties more than anything else, that’s something I love about you, but-“
“I was afraid, Varric. I was afraid that I had made a fool of myself in front of you. You mean so much to me, you have no idea.” She cut him off, explaining herself without a doubt. She laid her heart bare in front of him, and he did the same for her. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered to him.
They leaned in until their foreheads were touching, and Cassandra took this moment to close her eyes and feel her heartbeat in her ears. She was so, so happy.
“If you ever doubt that she loves you, you should see the tree she broke in half while killing the demon that hit you,” added Dorian from somewhere around them. “She squeezed it like an orange!” Varric burst into laughter, letting himself fall back down.
“Of course you did,” he said softly, gazing at her through enamored eyes. Cassandra smiled sheepishly at him as she pulled him towards her and kissed him square on the mouth.
The kiss was sloppy, Varric didn’t even give her a grace period before he parted her lips with his tongue, but she would have done it in the next second anyway, so it was alright. Their mouths slotted together like they were meant for it, and Cassandra couldn’t stop herself from smiling even then.
He cupped her face again, tangling one hand in her hair. When they broke the kiss, she let herself fall over him. Above them, the sky was blue and the sun was coating everything in a glaze of honey. Including Trevelyan and Dorian, who were looking at her with interest. Below her was Varric’s firm chest, and around her were his strong arms. No one said a word for a minute.
“Do you want to know what happened last night now?” Trevelyan broke the silence with her question.
“Let the storyteller do his job,” commented Dorian. “I’m sure he wants to make this story as immersive as possible for the Seeker.” The two mages were snickering like children, but Cassandra didn’t mind, because she was too focused on committing everything concerning Varric to memory.
“Then how about you do your job and pass me a healing potion, Sparkler?”
“Varric, you have one in your bag.”
“I can’t do it if you’re lying on top of me, Seeker. Not that I’m complaining.”
“I forgot how short your arms are, just like the rest of you.”
“You’d be surprised…”
“Inquisitor, look at the Seeker’s face! She’s blushing!”
“Leave her alone, Dorian. At least so we can get to Skyhold in one piece.”
“Good call, Inquisitor.”