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“You are the Herald of Andraste, and my leader… and a woman. I take it as a compliment, truly. I hope we can remain friends.”
The words had cut like a knife but the Inquisitor had somehow managed to school her expression so as not to give away the depth of her feelings. But no matter what she did she couldn’t stop the hurt. Nights spent drowning her sorrows in the tavern didn’t help either.
She could see the wisdom in it, not getting involved with a comrade in arms. The feelings were there though, and she couldn’t change that. But she couldn’t let it affect the Inquisition. And it wouldn’t do to alienate someone as important as Seeker Pentaghast over something like a little harmless flirting. Especially not given her former position as the Right Hand of the Divine… and the Inquisitor’s own right hand.
But it was too late for her. She was already in this way too deep and head over heels in love with someone who did not… could not return her feelings.
Somehow she had to pick herself up, dust herself off and carry on working by Cassandra’s side, knowing she would never be as close as her heart demanded. It wasn’t the easiest task she’d ever set herself but somehow she managed to seal her heart away from the world and carry on, her head held high so that no one would ever know.
A fair few demons and a couple of dragons died horribly as she worked out her frustration, and the Inquisitor still wasn’t as effective as she’d hoped at dealing with a broken heart.
The mere sight of Cassandra or the sound of her voice was still enough to set her heart all aflutter, despite her best efforts, and she had a tendency to make questionable decisions when she was distracted.
Cassandra’s presence at the war table was necessary and the Inquisitor dealt with these interactions as best as she could. But on expeditions, when her life and the lives of her party were on the line the distraction could prove fatal. She simply couldn’t take the risk. Slowly but surely the Inquisitor phased Cassandra out of her regular party rotation in favour of Blackwall or the Iron Bull.
The men were much safer choices, and effective fighters in their own right, but their presence did nothing to quell the ache in her heart. Trevelyan had gotten used to having Cassandra at her back, by her side and in her heart and, as good as they were, the men were no replacement for the Nevarran woman.
She missed her Seeker. She just couldn’t justify the risk.
***
Avoiding bringing Cassandra along on missions somehow became avoiding her at all costs.
It didn’t really help, but the thought of seeing her beautiful face and remembering their last conversation was just too painful. It wasn’t all that difficult to avoid the Seeker when Trevelyan was in Skyhold; there were a thousand and one things for her to do and between meetings with the war council, placating the nobles and the endless paperwork, she didn’t have to set foot outside the keep for days at a time.
Josephine started nagging her about that. The Inquisitor’s working hours had somehow grown longer than their Ambassador’s, her sleeping patterns were worse than the Spymaster’s and she had to be nagged harder than Cullen to get her to eat meals regularly. None of it seemed to help. Nothing seemed to banish Cassandra’s face from her mind, nor could it rid her of the ache in her heart or stop the dreams she had of a much happier outcome to that fateful meeting.
So she carried on what she was doing.
In the field Trevelyan pushed herself harder than ever, taking on risks that were probably unwise. At Skyhold she worked harder than all her advisors put together, ate little and slept less. It took its toll on her body.
She started losing weight, she was pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. People started talking of course. Josephine did her best to squash the rumours, but with so many people going in and out of Skyhold there was only so much she could do on damage limitation.
There were rumours too about Seeker Pentaghast, that her infamously short temper had grown even shorter. Trevelyan signed the requisition orders for new training dummies herself, testament to Cassandra’s increased vigour. Trevelyan supposed she was angry at being left behind so often but that couldn’t be helped; she wasn’t going to put people at risk, least of all Cassandra herself, because she couldn’t keep her feelings in check.
The Inquisitor kept going. Somehow. They had put her at the head of this organisation that was trying to save the world and by the Maker she would do what needed to be done. The Inquisition came first and she tried to ignore her own needs, her longing.
Weeks passed. The ache grew, the Inquisitor wasted away and her closest friends worried.
***
Then came the day she almost walked straight into the Seeker on the battlements. The day Cassandra kissed her for the first time.
Maker she hadn’t realised until then just how much she had faded. Cassandra’s kisses breathed life back into her tired bones, made her feel like she could go out and fight a dozen Corypheuses. For a moment she considered the possibility she was dreaming; she’d had dreams like this before but none of them had felt this good.
As good as they were a few kisses couldn’t magically fix the gulf that had grown between them, but it was a start. When Trevelyan said they needed to have a nice long talk about the fact they’d kissed, where they stood with each other and what they both wanted, she’d meant it. She led the Seeker through the keep to her private quarters, one of the few places they could guarantee not being disturbed.
***
“What made you change your mind?” Trevelyan asked, pulling her beige jerkin off.
“I– I wasn’t sure until we met on the battlements just now,” Cassandra said. “I missed you but I didn’t…” She swallowed. “I realised I’d been hurting and why. After that it was obvious what I had to do.”
The Inquisitor stepped forward, raising a hand to caress the scar on the Seeker’s cheek. When she spoke again, her voice was sad. “And all those things you said before, the reasons you couldn’t return my affection, are they still a problem?”
Cassandra sighed, a frustrated noise deep in her throat. “Honestly I do not know. You are still my leader, the Herald and a woman; none of that has changed.” She paused, and Trevelyan braced herself for the inevitable brush off, for being let down gently. Again. “None of that has changed,” Cassandra repeated, “but perhaps I have.”
Calloused fingers slipped into Trevelyan’s hair and rubbed gently at her scalp. She couldn’t help herself; her eyes closed in pleasure. “Cassandra…” she said, swallowing hard. Her hands were trembling. “Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish.”
“I never do,” she replied. “I am not certain where this will lead us, but I want to find out. Will you let me court you?”
“Maker yes,” Trevelyan said and kissed Cassandra again.
This time the kiss went on much longer and was filled with a surprising amount of passion. Trevelyan wondered how Cassandra could ever have claimed she could not return the affections of a woman since she was doing an excellent job at that moment. Then she put the thought out of her mind, intent on enjoying the sensation of the Seeker’s lips against hers.
That was how it went for some time; the two women talking, heartfelt discussion about their feelings interspersed with increasingly impassioned embraces. The day grew long and darkness crept in. Cassandra built them a fire in the hearth and they sat together on the couch, talking long into the night.
The Inquisitor woke early the next morning on the same couch, arms wrapped around a still sleeping Cassandra. There was a crick in her neck and her right arm was numb, but she couldn’t help the smile that all but took over her face.
Despite the less than ideal sleeping situation that was the best night’s rest she’d had in a long time. Trevelyan thought that was entirely down to Cassandra’s presence. She wondered if she’d ever be able to sleep without her again. It was a price she was willing to pay for a chance to love this amazing, infuriating woman.
Cassandra stirred then, as thought roused by Trevelyan’s thoughts. “I apologise,” she said, “I didn’t intend to spend the night here. People will talk.”
Trevelyan knew she was right; if Bull hadn’t started the rumour mill yesterday then Cassandra spending the night in the Inquisitor’s quarters certainly would. She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to care.
“Let them,” she said. “I’d rather they talk about me for something good than the whispers I’ve been hearing lately. And believe me, waking up next to a beautiful woman is a good thing in my book.”
Cassandra flushed adorably and Trevelyan just had to kiss her.
“As delightful as it would to spend the morning kissing you, we both have duties to attend to,” said Cassandra when they parted.
It pained her to admit it, but Trevelyan knew she was right. The world wasn’t going to save itself. They arranged to meet again that evening and went their separate ways.
As the Inquisitor descended the stairs to the main hall she realised the ache she had carried in her chest for weeks had gone. It felt good.
Things weren’t perfect, but they were getting better, and that was all she could ask for.