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She didn’t want to go.
Cassandra really didn’t want to go, but it seemed that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Every member of the currently available Inquisition had agreed and only she was holding out.
Cullen stood across the war table massaging his temples, likely in the midst of an approaching headache, and guilt roiled inside her stomach. She was supposed to be keeping an eye on his withdrawal symptoms and making sure he was functioning healthily, but here she was, most likely exacerbating his pain. She was certain that Cullen did not want to go either, despising the concept of nobility and the idea of sucking up to them, but even he had agreed to the excursion.
Josephine’s voice chimed through, still respectful, but exhaustion evident.
“Cassandra, I understand that you would prefer to avoid nobility and the Game, but the man is Ferelden, not Orlesian. He is eccentric, sure, but very wealthy, and your presence would make a major difference in our likelihood of securing his interests in the Inquisition.”
A grunt pushed its way through Cassandra’s pursed lips without her permission and Josephine huffed lightly before she continued on.
“All I am asking is for you to come to his estate, walk through his prized apple orchards while picking some fruit, and then return home in a few days' time. Everyone else has agreed to this beneficial opportunity to extend the Inquisition’s reach. You are being needlessly stubborn!”
“Fine! Fine!” Cassandra nearly cut her off from speaking. She did not intend to be rude but knew that Josephine would go on an entire lecture about diplomacy if she wasn’t stopped. Cassandra steeled her insides, almost as if she was preparing for an up close battle with a demon. She probably would have preferred the demon, in all honesty.
“I will attend this pointless charade of fruit galavanting. But-” she stuttered trying to find an adequate response for her begrudging behavior, “we must make it short as- well- we need to return to continue training the troops. We are yet to take Suledin Keep and our soldiers will need to be well prepared. More so than they currently are, certainly.”
“Yes, Cassandra, I promise it will take no longer than a few days. You will spend an afternoon and evening at the estate and then return promptly in the morning. In fact, we will be setting off today. Everyone gather the things you will need for the duration of our short trip and meet on the grand staircase. It is sure to be a delight!”
Josephine punctuated her final sentence with a reassuring, yet vaguely threatening, look directly at Cassandra. Her stomach churned still, as she dreaded the adventure that was about to come. She wished the Inquisitor was coming along. Of all the people in the Inquisition Cassandra had become closest with Lady Trevelyan as they shared an appreciation for both sound strategy and silence. Two things she was all of sure not to receive on this trip with Josephine, Leliana, Varric, Sera, Dorian and The Iron Bull clashing and causing mayhem.
Cassandra loved the fall, and had ever since she was a child. Every year her family, being of nobility and having the means, took a vacation to Ferelden to enjoy the beautiful season and the blessings it brought. They would stop at various towns along the way and would peruse local shops, eat at bakeries, tour extravagant farms, and admire the colors of the trees.
Her favorite activity each year was picking apples, which traditionally as a child she did with Anthony. In fact, she did all of her activities with Anthony while growing up, apple picking being no exception.
As she exited the war room and nearly stormed out of the main fortress she felt an ache deep within her chest. Memories began flooding back and she was reminded of countless moments spent with her brother, all of them now so bittersweet.
She hurried to her room to pack, attempting to ignore the memories that threatened to burst through to the surface. She gathered her necessary belongings in a hurry and when she still had two hours to kill she settled down in her bed to read some of the latest chapter of Sword and Shields that the Inquisitor had been able to get Varric to write for her.
When the skyhold bell tolled she knew it was time to depart and headed towards the grand staircase to go over the itinerary and then headed to the stables to mount up for the journey.
A little ways into their journey once she had drifted to the back of the group she watched as Leliana slowed her horse until it was walking in pace with Cassandra’s.
“Cassandra, I have known you for years. Do not pretend as though I cannot see how distraught you are. I knew you were stubborn but this may have been a whole new level that we saw back in the war room. Training soldiers, hmm?”
Leliana eyed her suspiciously from the side. She said nothing more, just waited.
Cassandra knew she was seeking out an explanation but how could she possibly explain to Leliana that she didn’t want to go to an apple orchard because of her dead brother and their decades old traditions when Leliana didn’t even know she had a dead brother. The Left Hand to the Divine was one of Cassandra’s closest friends and even she hadn’t been briefed on the backstory. (Not that Cassandra would put it past her to know it anyway; it was her job to gather personal information, after all.)
“I am fine. It is of no concern. I had my reasons and I wish not to speak of them.”
Perceptive as she was, Cassandra swore she saw Leliana look taken aback, possibly hurt, before righting her expression into one of unreasonable passivity.
Without another word Leliana continued on, rallying her horse to trot on forward and catch up with the scouts ahead.
Cassandra shook off her nerves and disgruntled emotions and attempted to focus on other thoughts for the rest of the evening while they rode. She thought about the upcoming battles, the progress they had made so far, and anything else Inquisition related to help sway her mind elsewhere, if possible.
The following morning they set off once more, expecting to arrive at the orchard early that afternoon. Cassandra hoped for this day to be as painless as possible but not even fifteen minutes into the journey it seemed someone else had other ideas…
“Alright there grumpy, what’s got you so pissed off at the world lately?” an irritating voice inquired.
“Leave me alone, Dwarf. My mood does not concern you.” She attempted a brush off, not wanting to be pestered by the one person who was sure to get under her skin the most.
“When I can feel our spymaster glaring holes into the back of my head it does, Seeker.” Varric retorted. “Nightingale has been staring me down because I’m the one person who might know a secret she doesn’t. And I don’t know anything, but a secret that even she doesn’t know is intriguing to me for sure.”
The only reaction Cassandra could muster was a hearty eye roll.
“You’ll have to spill eventually.” Varric continued on in what Cassandra assumed was his pursuit to annoy her into divulging information.
“I will not. And I would appreciate not being pestered about it further.”
“Fine, I’ll leave it be… for now. But I can see you’re gonna need some cheering up, regardless. So I’ll make sure to cover that task for the day.”
Varric gave a soft wink and click of his tongue as he signaled his horse to speed up slightly and drifted towards the front of the party.
When they eventually arrived there was a small battalion of people standing properly at the entrance to the estate. It seemed that Duke Brenshawl had deigned to meet their party at the front gate in what was certainly a great show of diplomacy. Cassandra could see Josephine’s excitement radiating off of the woman at the positive prospect the welcome suggested they would receive.
“Welcome Inquisition Members!” he began as they rounded up near the gate and dismounted their horses. He nodded towards Josephine.
“Lady Montilyet, how kind of you to accept our invitation to visit our glorious estate and orchard. We are honored to welcome the Inquisition to our fields! Please, walk around and gaze at the marvelous trees while you pick some fruit to bring back to your home. Our kitchens have also prepared cider for you with our very own apples for you to drink should you desire.”
Not long after the party set out to explore the orchard. The rows of trees were magnificent and stretched on for acres. The lines they created along the rolling hills of the countryside gave Cassandra a sense of pleasure as she gazed adoringly at the picturesque sight that she had deprived herself of for years. The colors of the landscape in the distance were vibrant against the saturated blue sky, shining in various tones of golden, russet, orange, and saffron.
The Duke took pride in his apple trees, and it was clear to Cassandra as to why. The trees had a uniformity that suggested they were routinely pruned and trimmed to perfection. The fruit hung like round rubies amongst the green leaves, and some were even sprawled along the ground underneath, having become a snack for fennecs and birds to nibble on.
Cassandra took it all in with deep inhales, and as the aroma of the earth and apples swirled through her nostrils she was sent back to her childhood. Her legs itched with a decade-neglected desire to explore. Her and Anthony used to take a large bag into the field and grab as many apples as they could carry to bring back to the bakers and chefs at home with an assurance that the following weeks would provide many delicious concoctions for the whole family to feast on.
She had only been walking through the Orchard for a few minutes when the first annoyance came.
“Hey Seeker, help me grab this one I see higher up. It looks like a beauty!” Varric called to her.
“I agreed to attend this excursion and nothing more. I will not be picking fruit, Varric.”
Cassandra ignored him to the best of her ability even as he kept pestering her to pay attention and assist him in his quest. She recalled his words earlier during their travels, making it his mission to “cheer her up” or whatever it was he had swore. Wanting no part of whatever shenanigans that might entail she turned her back away from him prepared to walk the other way entirely.
Three steps in she heard the click and whizz of a bolt being ejected and flying through the air. It was followed by the thud of an apple falling to the ground, and then a horrified gasp from Josephine, not far behind.
It seemed Varric was determined to pick fruit he could not reach, even if that involved Bianca in the process.
“Varric, what in Andraste’s name are you thinking!?” Cassandra yell-whispered through her teeth.
“You’re right Seeker, that idea was pretty terrible. I apple-ologize.” Varric replied, while holding up the pierced apple he had just shot.
Cassandra seemed to have an unlimited capacity for disgusted grunts that she could hurl towards the dwarf, because another one pushed through her lips at that moment.
Varric had always had the ability to get under her skin in the worst possible moments. But at least, she thought, she was no longer reminiscing on Anthony the same way that she was on their journey. He seemed to be keeping true to his words to make her feel better, even if it did seem to be in the most backwards way possible.
As she ventured through the fields she tried to remain as inconspicuous as possible, not wanting to have to pretend in front of anyone that she was in a jovial, or even halfway decent mood. In the distance she could hear Sera laughing and asking some elven farm workers some questions about bees. Dorian and The Iron Bull were last spotted getting closer to one another in the Royal Golden apple trees, and she knew that Leliana and Josephine would be securing face-time with the Duke, making a strong case towards him helping to provide Inquisition resources.
She walked alone and thought back on the day. She had picked some apples down for Varric, which hadn’t actually been too entirely painful of an ordeal like she had expected. She had admired the landscape, and even though the scenery had brought back memories of her brother it brought back memories of her whole family, the trips they took, the fortunes they were able to experience, and the enjoyable times they had shared together. Her chest ached with a different sort of feeling than it had previously at Skyhold, a feeling of warmth and reminiscence. Memories that were not quite as painful as she expected.
A rustling of a tree behind her caused her head to turn, and she could almost see Anthony peeking his head out from the leaves, hanging off a branch and taunting her to climb up and catch him. The image became vivid, as she lost herself now entirely to the past. The young boy halted in his jeering, smiled at her, and poked his head back up into the tree. When it rustled again, she watched as not a child, but an adult dwarf, came around from its side.
“Woah, hey there, Seeker. You looked in another world there. I’m not taking no for an answer anymore. You’re sitting down with me for a glass of cider.”
Cassandra, still feeling almost entirely unwilling, did however feel a new level of exhaustion. Perhaps seeing glimpses of the past was not an entirely healthy sign, and she resigned to take the dwarf's advice finally, no matter how it grated at her inner conscience and values.
Varric offered to grab the mugs for them while she found them a place out of the way to converse. Cassandra located a small picnic table in the corner of an herb garden and flagged Varric over when she caught sight of him emerging from the nearby kitchen cellars.
He sat next to her and, for once surprisingly, said nothing. He simply waited for Cassandra to start speaking. It took her a few moments to catch her barings, to make sure she was really about to share this story, but Varric’s easy gaze and open, accepting posture, so unlike what she had come to expect, caught her off guard and she found herself spilling everything.
She confided in him about Anthony. About their history from childhood to the present. She included the stories of orchards, trips with her family and fall adventures they shared. She told him of all her emotions that surrounded this day and why she was dreading it in the first place. She spilled out everything she could until eventually she had nothing more to say.
A few moments into the silence Varric wordlessly lifted his hand and placed it against the shoulder blade of Cassandra’s back. He gave a firm rub up and down a few times and from the side of her vision she could see him hang his head as she heard him exhale.
The mug was warm against her roughened palms and Varric’s hand was warm against her shoulder, not lingering but instead holding steady. It was the assured touch of a man who knew war, battle, hardships, and was just maybe more than he seemed. Afterall, she had expected him to jeer at her, to brush her off and make light of her situation. Here he was, however, sitting by her side on the wooden bench of the picnic table, comforting her in a way that didn’t make her feel belittled or exposed, but safe.
“Y’know, I’ve dealt with some brother history myself…”
Varric’s brogue cut into Cassandra’s introspection and she looked slightly down at him to peer at his whiskey colored eyes. They weren’t quite meeting hers, instead looking into what she assumed were memories of the past.
“Oh yes. I do remember.”
She recalled their first meeting, holding him nearly prisoner until he divulged all of his encounters and stories he was willing to share regarding Liora Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. And she remembered his bluff when he told her about encountering his brother, years after Bartrand had abandoned him in the Deep Roads.
‘Family business’ and ‘Awkward’ were the terms that came to mind from Varric’s retelling.
“You mentioned it being uncomfortable. Did you ever see your brother again?”
“Nah,” Varric said. “Bartrand is off maker only knows where at this point. Likely crazy and all alone. He might as well be gone to me for as much as we get on these days.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Cassandra replied.
“I’m sorry to say it, Seeker.”
They both fell into a silence, padded by the sounds of golden leaves rustling in the wind, and the chatter in the distance of the other Inquisition members. Sips of cider were consumed leisurely, neither person in any rush to return to the hubbub of the party, and shoulders moved imperceptibly closer, as two people who did not often let their guards down did just that.
“Thank you,” Cassandra said tentatively.
A wry half grin appeared on Varric’s face.
“What for?” he replied.
“For the conversation. And, truth be told, the attempts to cheer me up. Though most of your jokes and antics were horrendous… they did manage to keep me distracted. This experience was certainly not the miserably dreadful one I was anticipating.”
At Cassandra’s words Varric’s half grin grew whole, and his bared chest puffed out further in self-assured pleasure.
“Well how about them apples!”
A final, and halfhearted at that, disgusted grunt came from Cassandra but she also couldn’t help but smile and let loose a light laugh.
“Cassandra Pentaghast thanks me, and finally admits that my plethora of charms are both irresistible and enjoyable. And is that laughter? Well I’ll be damned.”
“Do not get too used to it, dwarf.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it, Seeker.”