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The Champion of Kirkwall comes to Skyhold some time after they’ve established the keep, and Cassandra almost murders the damn dwarf.
Hawke is standing on the battlements, after the Inquisitor has left, Varric leaving as soon as he sees Cassandra. Now Cassandra is there with Cullen, who seemed strangely reluctant to accompany her to meet the Champion.
Hawke cracks a dirty smile.
‘Helllllooooo, Knight-Captain,’ she says, and her grin is wicked. ‘Miss me?’
Cassandra glances at Cullen, whose face is suddenly as red as her own.
The Champion is pretty. Of course she is pretty. And clever, as clever as Varric’s tale painted her. Cassandra can still hear her bantering with Varric with that sharp tongue and dry wit. Cassandra is not witty. Cassandra has never made the dwarf laugh like that. Cassandra has never made anyone laugh like that.
Cullen is staring at the floor.
‘This is, ah, Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast,’ he says, still avoiding looking at Hawke, who reaches out a hand and shakes Cassandra’s heartily.
She’s like a bird out of legend, she is a legend, she’s here. She should have been the Herald.
‘You could have come a bit sooner,’ Cullen says testily. ‘We were looking for you.’
‘You do miss me.’
‘Uh… No. Not really,’ he says. ‘It’s been nice and peaceful without you around.’
‘Oh, you,’ Hawke says, and she blows the Commander a little kiss as she turns to go. Then she pauses and blows Cassandra one too, and the Seeker feels the blood rise in her cheeks.
‘I forgot,’ Cassandra says, when Hawke has fluttered away, making her voice sound exactly as pleasant as she doesn’t feel. ‘You knew the Champion in Kirkwall, didn’t you?’
The stammer tells all.
‘Hawke… She was… I. I had dealings with her.’
‘Oh,’ Cassandra says.
He looks up. ‘Maker, Cassandra. It’s not whatever you look like you’re thinking. She was an ally.’
‘A beautiful ally,’ she can’t help from saying, and he flinches more than he ever has when they’re on the training field and she’s broadsiding him with her shield.
‘Don’t,’ he says. ‘I had a… I was infatuated with her, once. But it was a long time ago, before I met you.’
‘Didn’t you ever…’ Her voice trails off.
‘Did I ever what?’ Cullen asks. His eyelids are slightly lowered now, his chin tilted up, looking at her.
She has forgotten what she meant to say.
He steps closer, and backed against the battlements as she is, there’s nowhere to run. He has her hand in his. All the romance novels in Varric’s portfolio could never have prepared her for the intensity of his gaze, and when he kisses her she feels like leaping off the ramparts with the sheer lift of her heart.
‘Did I do that?’ Cullen is saying. ‘Kiss her?’
He holds her in his arms, his face buried in her neck. ‘No.’
Cassandra isn’t one to forget, despite the heat in her body. She’s a Seeker, Maker be damned. ‘Did you want to?’
He straightens up just enough to look down at her, and his forehead is pressed against hers, because she’s tall enough. ‘Don’t you?’
Cassandra can feel her cheeks burn.
Cullen laughs, an expression so light it is worth everything.
And Cassandra kisses him.