What if the tavern was too packed and they had to smoosh together?
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What if the tavern was too packed and they had to smoosh together?

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I fear for Cassandra sometimes, the way she throws herself into battle. Iâve never known a warrior like her.
You are who you follow (behind the tavern).
Another for the casswall wall.
One more for the Casswall road!
Blackwall/Cassandra, âDressed to the Teeth, or Otherwiseâ (AO3) [Mature]
A Villa by the Winter Palace
âFor the final time, I wonât be need any moisturising or scented oils!â, Cassandra bellowed, storming out of the bathroom as the complaints of several elven servants were silenced by the door swinging shut behind her, narrowing the shaft of light from the garderobe into a thin strip, then nothingness.
Blackwall, who stood between her and the rest of the wing of the palace, coughed politely, asking, âIs this an inopportune moment, Cassandra?â
Clutching the towel which was the sole preserver of her modesty to her chest, she turned to him, having just realised Blackwallâs presence. Heâd put on the heavily starched trousers they were expected to turn up in for the Winter Ball in a matter of hours, and nothing else.
âWhat do you think, Blackwall?â, she hissed, actively avoiding sizing up his bare, broad, chest to look him in the eye, only to see his gaze darting around the hallway.
âWell, IâŠâ
âOh, for the Makerâs sake, Blackwall,â she said, âDonât pretend as though this is your first time seeing a woman dressed so. It certainly isnât mine seeing a man shirtless.â
âRight,â he said, his gaze moving to her face. âI was just, ah, surprised.â
âUndoubtedly. What were you doing out in the corridor, at any rate?â, she asked inquisitively.
âTo be perfectly frank,â he answered, âIt was your protests coming from the bathroom which got my alert. I was half concerned that the Venatori assassin had already struck.â
âHow very droll. Wait, is that why youâve got a poker in your hand?â, Cassandra asked, looking down at his weapon arm.
Scratching the back of his head with his other hand, Blackwall said as he followed her gaze, âThat would indeed be the case. Well, seeing as it happens to be a grievance of a much less deadly nature, Iâll let you go your wââ
Cassandra interrupted him, saying, âWait. Just stay here awhile. Maybe thatâll be enough to deter them from following me with all their damned bathing lotions and perfumed oilsâŠâ
She trailed off, having lingered by the doorway enough to notice the scent hanging in the air around her companion.
Finally, she asked him, âYou let them put one of those balms on you?â
ââŠit smelled pleasant,â he defended himself.
âI certainly hope youâre not letting our Lady Ambassador get to you with the pressing need to play the Orlesiansâ frivolous games, Blackwall,â she said. âIâd assumed that you had as little time for this pageantry as I did.â
âYouâre not wrong there. Still, itâs nice enough to get a decent bath when I can get the opportunity. Theyâre far and few between on the road as Warden, and Iâve certainly never had one in a palace, mind.â
Turning it over in her head, Cassandra conceded, âI suppose youâre right. Still, I must admit that this is something of a new side from the man who sleeps in a barn.â
âI confess that your protestations are equally surprising, Cassandra,â he said, asking, âSurely growing up so close to the royal court at Nevarra meant that all this sort of thing would be second nature to you, or at least familiar.â
Sighing, she said, âYouâre not wrong. Maybe that is why I despise it soâI havenât had to return to this sort of preening and dressage for years, not even as the Divineâs Right Hand. I had forgotten that this would be a luxury and not a nuisance for many of us. Perhaps I should return to their ministrations lest your perfume overpower my soapâs scent.â
Blackwall laughed warmly. âAnd perhaps you should let them restyle your hair whilst youâre there, as refreshing as it is to see it down at last. I always did wonder what itâd look like minus that braid.â
âAlways?â, Cassandra asked, tilting her head.
âCuriosity, nothing more,â he said carelessly, rapidly changing the subject. âI do hope our Inquisitor is comfortable, though, never having had the privilege or the freedom to get bathed by others quite like this.â
âAnd by elven maidservants, no less,â Cassandra mused. âIt is easy to forget that this palace lies upon the last of their great cities at times, for us anyway. I doubt itâs ever left her mind ever since we received the Grand Dukeâs invitation. On the other hand, Solas has seemed more imperious than ever since getting here.â
âHm. Perhaps he tapped into the dreams of some long-forgotten king, adored by thousands of his subjects and hated by the backstabbers of his court, to get into character,â Blackwall theorised. âThat, or he expects the world to bend to him regardless of where he goes.â
Cassandra let a smile cross a face. âWho knows? Perhaps both are true. Very well, I shall return to that blasted garderobe to let them do what they will. Maybe weâll present a nice enough picture for Josephine to relax a little.â
âWe could be the picture of the next Ageâs styles and sheâd still be fretting,â Blackwall chuckled. âStill, stay any longer out here and you may well catch a chill, and ruin the beautifully embroidered handkerchiefs sheâd made for us by sneezing all over them.â
âItâs almost charming when you worry about me,â Cassandra said, âGo on, then, and put the rest of your uniform, Blackwall. Iâll see you in the main hall along with Rivka and Solas.â
With that, she was gone, leaving Blackwall to gaze after her as she turned back round to finish her bath, absentmindedly noting her bare back and its muscled form, marked but far from marred by the small scatter of scars upon it, before he retreated to his quarters.
Heading back towards the door sheâd almost slammed into an elven servant, Cassandra, too, idly wondered what her companion would look like in the fresh, if gaudy, uniform that had been picked out for the ball. Certainly, heâd be filling it out rather nicely, if nothing else.
-
@dadrunkwriting

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Continuing from a Casswall prompt about a âAlmost Lost Youâ kiss, hereâs the culmination of that stormy mix of emotions between the Inquisitionâs two besotted warriors. And sex. Quite a fair bit of it.
Blackwall/Cassandra, âReflectionsâ (AO3) [Explicit]
Blackwall sat in his barn next to the stables, running a grindstone along the edge of his axe as he occasionally checked on his armour drying by the fire.
The entirety of the keep was bustling with activity late into the night, with sergeants barking orders at footsoldiers to check and double-check the kit theyâd need for the arduous trek down the mountain path, and scouts on horseback thundering through the main gate, headed towards the bases in the Hinterlands and the Exalted Plains with the aim of mobilising the forces there for the great endeavour the Inquisition was about to launch.
There had been no good news from Hawke and Warden Loghain concerning Adamant Fortressâthe corrupted Wardens were indeed holed up there in force, and while the citadel had been allowed to fall into disrepair, it still remained a formidable barrier to the Inquisitionâs attempts to rid the Venatori saboteurâs influence over the Orlesian Wardens.
To this end, the Inquisition would besiege it and set an overwhelming army upon them, with the aim of opening a large enough breach in the walls to slip a small party through led by none less than the Herald of Andraste, where Rivka and some others, Hawke and Loghain included, would seek out and terminate Erimondâs commandâwith extreme prejudice. The perfumed coats and patterned masks of the Winter Palace had been one kind of danger. This was different, and far greater. Nothing else after the catastrophe at Haven could hope to match this in peril.
Like then, heâd be backing up Rivka and her fellow master over the riftâs magics, Solas, but unlike then he wouldnât have Cassandra guarding his back and him hers (Cole instead replacing her), with her role being to command the rearguard and tie down any Wardens hoping to retreat into the keep and stymie Rivkaâs task force. Exhaling hard as he gave his the blade of his axe some last few passes, he planted it onto the ground, handle-first with a grunt of frustration.
Thinking back to the journey home from the Western Approach, whose steps theyâd be retracing en route to Adamant, he remembered how perturbed that strange spirit boy, Cole, had been about Erimondâs actions, amounting to the closest thing to total moral outrage heâd ever seen from the lad. Solas, too, seemed to have some special insight on the total insanity of their plan. Little surprise that Rivka had chosen them both for her task force.
And him? Were Warden Loghain to fall fighting his comrades, history would need another to have stood steadfast against Clarelâs mistakes, didnât it? He stood up, looking upon the Warden armour they had fished from some chest or other whilst following their trail. Heâd resisted wearing it up till recently. Nevertheless, with corruption rife in their ranks would it not fall to another Warden to ensure that their reputation emerged from this debacle intact? He found himself letting loose a bitter laugh, turning the irony over in his head.
âForgive me,â a familiar voice sounded, âbut am I interrupting?â
Recognising it, Blackwall drew in a sharp breath, turning around. âNot at all. But what are you doing here, Cassandra?â
It was indeed the Lady Seeker, whose gaze was partly cast to the ground as she approached him. She said, âI understand you have volunteered to join our Inquisitor in hunting down our latest Venatori foeman.â
He nodded. âYes, thatâs right. The Wardens have made a catastrophic error. A Warden needs toââ
She reached out, grasping his shoulder with gauntleted hand. âYou donât need to explain. It was not so long ago that I did much the same for the Seekers. I justâŠâ
Drawing her further into the barn as he gently took her by the wrist of that same hand, he asked, âWhat is it? You seem troubled.â
Cassandra shook her head. âItâs just that from what the rest describe, Erimondâs hold over the Warden mages seems absolute. If the Calling is truly so powerfulâŠâ
Blackwall stepped forward, close enough to her that they standing head-to-head. âIâve told you before, it seems that being distant from where Corypheus had made his attack on the minds of the Wardens means that it seems not affect me as much as them, or even Loghainâso far, anyway.â
âAnd yet still you throw yourself directly at the instrument of his will,â she said, not moving to look at him, but opening her eyes to stare upwards into his. At this range he saw them brimming with wetness, and his heart slowed for several beats.
Breaking away, he said, âYou knew full well that whatever had affected the Seekers could well have been present at Caer Oswin, Cassandra.â
âIâmâŠIâm aware,â she finally says, choking between breaths. âIâŠforgive me, I am letting my judgement here be clouded.â
âClouded?â, he asked, closing the distance between them again.
Glaring at him with tears rolling down from her eyes in long streaks, she spat, âDonât be fulsome, Blackwall. I would rather see you dead than turned into aâŠtoolâŠof Corypheus, but above that I wish toâŠI wish not to lose you.â
âI also donât wish to lose you, Cassandra,â he said, his heart growing heavier with every word. âBut when we reach Adamant, thereâs every possibilityâŠâ
Nodding as she wiped dry her cheekbones, she said, âYouâre correct, of course. We shouldnât pretend as though the business of the Inquisition isnât perilous.â
Casting his gaze at his arms and armour, Blackwall said, âI canât deny Iâm worried for you, either. You and the Inquisitionâs vanguard are going to be right in the thickest of it, between Erimond and the rest of the Wardens.â
âIâm well aware,â Cassandra said just as distractedly. âNeither of us are going to have it easy come the siege.â
âIt wonât be easy,â Blackwall said, finding words to fill the space. âBut I donât think Rivka couldâve chosen anyone better to hold the line.â
He heard the faint echo of a laugh from her, before she said, âYou always did know how to flatter me.â
âItâs hardly flattery if itâs the truth,â he said, smiling, before adding, âI must be taking up your valuable time. Thereâs a great deal to prepare tonight as it is.â
âNo, not at all,â Cassandra said. âI think weâve done enough drills for one night. Thereâll be plenty of time down the mountain trail to remind the vanguard how to hold their line. I came down hereâŠbecause I wished to.â
âYou wished to?â, Blackwall said, the gears in his head turning achingly slowly from Cassandraâs perspective.
âYes,â she simply said as she felt her eyes brimming with tears again. âHere, tonight, together with you.â
She reached forward, drawing him in for a deep kiss, then another, then another, clinging on to him as though letting go would mean losing him forever, until they both came up for air, his hands on her own shoulders firmly but slowly pushing them apart.
Blackwall looked into Cassandraâs eyes as she gasped for air, her chest rocking with each breath and anticipationâand concernâwritten on her face.
Finally, she managed a nervous, âNo?â
Glancing at the stairs to the loft, he whispered into her ear, âNot here.â
-
[Continued on AO3, or itâd be far too long for one post]
@dadrunkwriting
This is my first self-prompted fic! Iâm posting two today.
Blackwall/Cassandra, âTaking the Reinsâ (AO3)
Blackwall was seated by the fire in the barn, carefully tooling a chess piece.
Dorian had taken his frustration from losing five consecutive games to Cullen out on the board, setting some of them on fire and ripping one to shreds with necrotic energy. Although Josephine had promised to send someone to Val Royeaux to shop for a replacement set, the Warden had taken it upon himself to carve replacements until their envoy had returned.
Besides, since the Inquisitor had decided that she only needed the Iron Bull to hold the line as she explored some recently uncovered ruins in the Emerald Graves, he was getting bored out of his mind, having completed the rest of the tasks he needed to do for the day.
Accompanying Rivka were the self-designated elven expert, Solas, and in what he assumed to be a deliberate provocation of her apostate lover or at the very least a representative of an alternate perspective, the self-designated elven skeptic, Sera. This, along with Vivienne following their envoy to the Orlesian capital and Cole doingâŠwhatever he was doingâŠleft a scarce few of their companions back at Skyhold, including the Lady Seeker, whoâd seemed to have been troubled by something ever since settling in.
Speaking of which, that definitely was her coming down the long stairs leading from the main keep. As he turned his attention back to the eyes of the miniature warrior he was working on in wood, he idly wondered what precisely she could be up to down in this courtyard; the surgeonâs tent was comfortingly empty, and it was hardly as though she did much in the way of shopping amongst the stalls which greeted new arrivals.
Looking back up, it seemed to him that she was heading directly to his barn. The breath caught slightly in his throat as he saw her approach him, then dissipated as she went past the barn to look at the stables, leaning on the fence with great consideration, then sighing in that way she usually did.
Putting down the chisel, Blackwall walked towards her, asking from behind, âIs there something in the stables you needed, Lady Seeker?â
Cassandra turned towards him, mildly surprised. âAh! No, I do not think so, Warden Blackwall. UnlessâŠâ
âUnless?â, he asked inquisitively.
âHave you had much experience horse-riding?â, she asked, then shaking her head. âOf course you must have, being a squire in the Grand Tourney and excelling in it, then a Warden alone on the road. Forgive my foolishness.â
Blackwall chuckled slightly, saying, âNo need to chastise yourself, Lady Seeker, but yes, Iâve been on the road for quite a fair bit. Surely you also must have needed to ride to wherever you needed forâŠSeeker business?â
Cassandra sighed deeply, looking distantly. âYou would think so, but on the whole I much preferred following a carriage. There have been markedly few occasions where I needed to ride at length, and certainly not in battle. Animals do not tend to react well to uses of Seeker abilities.â
âI can imagine,â Blackwall mused. âI was always much better at the mĂȘlĂ©e on foot, but I performed well enough on horseback to get as far as I did during the Grand Tourney. Is there a particular occasion which needs you to ride forth, Lady Seeker? I trust it isnât an emergency?â
She turned around, sitting back on the fence as she looked in his direction again, noticing the sudden edge of concern in his voice. âOh, nothing of the kind. Well, not a pressing one. IâŠhave been receiving reports that some malefactors of the recent war are still at large and asked the Inquisitor to inform me if she came across intelligence concerning them.â
âTo what end?â, Blackwall asked, filling in the brief silence.
Her gaze steeled. âTo bring them to justice, of course. Their victims will never rest easy until they are found and made to pay for their crimes.â
He drew in a breath, responding, âAh, of course.â
âYou donât approve?â, she asked.
âNo, not at all. Itâs a worthy creed,â he said carelessly. âBut I fail to see what this has to do with my experience riding horses, to be perfectly honest.â
Staring into the distance, through the end walls of the stables, again, Cassandra explained, âI instructed Rivka to send word to me of such intelligence where she went, and Iâve just received Lelianaâs raven with a message saying theyâve reached the Emerald Graves. I shall ride to join them upon further news.â
âAnd youâd be travelling yourself to join them should that happen,â Blackwall finished, comprehending the situation.
âPrecisely,â Cassandra said. âHowever, I had failed to account for the fact that we are high up in the mountains, and I shall be responsible for taking myself and a steed down the mountain paths, and I havenât had the time to familiarise myself with any of the horses that made it to Haven.â
âI see,â he said, nodding. âUndoubtedly Horsemaster Dennet can give you better instructionââ
âDonât sell yourself short, Master Blackwall,â The old stablemaster said, leading a large pony from the stables. âI think even the stable boys could get Princess Mairyn here eating out of the Lady Seekerâs hand. Why donât you give it a shot? Seems to me youâve been doing nothing but whittling wood all day, anyway.â
Cassandra turned to him, glancing over the fence at the horse.
âWith such a glowing testimonial, how can I refuse?â, Blackwall said dryly. âAnd this is the thanks I get for baling your hay when Iâm not woodworking, Master Dennet.â
With a twinkle in his eye, Dennet remarked, âYouâll thank me later, lad. Meant to be reading the latest news from Seanna anyway. Wonder whoâs been besting the circuit lately.â
As she approached the Dalish All-Bred, Cassandra asked, âDoes it ever concern you that the Inquisitionâs stablemaster also organises races on the side?â
âI canât imagine why it would,â Blackwall said, crossing the fence. âShall we see how you get on, Lady Seeker?â
Turning to him, she said, âCassandra.â
âI beg your pardon?â, Blackwall asked.
âIf youâre going to be judging my riding, I think you can save on the syllable and use my name, Warden Blackwall,â she said, sizing up the saddle and the stirrup on Princess Mairynâs left side.
âIâll thank you to do the same for mineâŠCassandra,â Blackwall said, feeling her name roll off his tongue, and idly thinking he liked the sound of it.
Still sensing her smile curling her lip, she stood on the stirrup and, with an effort, mounted the pony, adjusting her seating and getting her to trot, then break out in a gallop after a while as she took the pony around the picket a couple of rounds, coming to a hard stop in front of Blackwall, reins tightly in her hand. She looked down at the Warden, who was scratching his beard mirthfully.
âOh, out with it already,â she said, âWhat was so terrible?â
âWell,â Blackwall started, âYouâre still in the saddle, soâŠ.â
Her eyes narrowing, she said, âDonât make me kick you from over here, Blackwall.â
Raising his hands defensively, Blackwall said, âI was merely stating a fact, Lady SeekâŠCassandra. But I think I do know why it is you prefer galloping to trotting or cantering, although you wonât be able to make poor Princess Mairyn gallop all the way down the Frostbacks.â
âAnd why is that?â, she asked.
âAs it stands,â Blackwall explained, âYouâre riding this poor pony hard by gripping her as tight as possible with your legs when sheâs trotting and essentially holding on for dear life once she gets up to speed after youâve kicked her in the sides to get there, and itâs not helped when youâve got a death-grip on her reins.â
Cassandra bit her lip, exhaling as accepted took the criticism.
He continued, âWell, itâs not as though you wouldnât be doing much the same in a fight, butâŠâ
ââŠitâs hardly appropriate for a gentle ride down the mountain path out of here,â she finished.
âQuite so,â Blackwall said. âIf you promise you wonât go any faster than a trot, Iâll try to walk alongside you.â
âVery well,â Cassandra said, waiting for him to do so. He reached upwards with his hand, finding her wrist and guiding it gently as she got Princess Mairyn walking.
âRelax your grip, Cassandra,â he said gently, also glancing at her side. âAt this speed you donât need to clutch her tight with your knees either. Same holds for trotting or cantering, really. Just sit back and guide her gently. You can get her trotting with a slight kick.â
The pony started speeding up a little, and Blackwall broke into a light jog, finding the breath to say, âThatâs goodâdonât forget to relax. Break into a canter when youâre able to, and try that for a couple of rounds instead of forcing our poor Princess into a gallop.â
Moments later, she did that very thing, passing Blackwall thrice before bringing the pony to a far gentler halt than her first attempt, gingerly dismounting before him.
âIt seems your prowess is well-earned, WardâŠBlackwall,â she said. âThank you.â
âI think youâll find the ride down far easier without you attempting to choke Princess Mairyn with your thighs this time,â Blackwall said, before coughing politely and skipping a beat, continuing, âShould you need further guidance and should I be away on other business Iâm sure you tear Dennet from his betting book.â
âIâm sure I can manage,â Cassandra said, smiling as she gazed back over to the barn. âPerhaps once youâre done making replacements you could bring them up for a game of chess. Iâm sure I owe you that much, Blackwall.â
âI, ah,â he said, scratching the back of his head, âIâm hardly any good at the game, I fear. I mainly find the pieces to look pretty.â
âOh?â, she asked, genuinely surprised. âWell, thatâs even better.â
âHow so?â, he asked in return.
âI get to teach you something in return, of course,â she said. âIf within a month you manage to make Dorian break the board, Iâll consider it a victory.â
âI believe the pawns you play with in chess are meant to be on the board, not your friends,â Blackwall retorted.
She smiled then laughed a brilliant laugh, nearly a giggle, and turned away, saying, âItâll be a memory to keep me warm on the mountain path to be sure. Until then, Blackwall.â
With that, she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the thought of seeing her again across a chessboard, and perhaps the lingering mental image of the Lady Seekerâs thighs astride that horse. No, it surely couldnât be that. And surely Horsemaster Dennet wasnât chuckling to himself from across the paddock, having watched the whole thing from his little shack.
Because if it was and heâd somehow engineered the whole damned thing, Blackwall swore that this was the absolute last time he baled hay for the man.
-
@dadrunkwriting
Okay, how about this one for Casswall? :D Trapped together somewhere in the Winter Palace, against a wall while still clothed?
You got it! (and so did @rosered282 , same brain)
Blackwall/Cassandra, âJust You and Iâ (AO3) [Mature]
âWhere are we going?â, Blackwall asked Cassandra as they broke off their dance, with the Lady Seeker leading him up the stairs to the Royal Wing where they had put the final pieces of Florianneâs plot together, defeating the Venatori agentâs henchmen just in time to make the dramatic entry of the century.
She turned to him with a glint in her eye, saying, âYouâll see soon enough.â
Blackwall scratched his head, hoping that all his talk of spontaneity and the half-dozen glasses of Antivan wine sheâd been sipping between fights in the Winter Palace (not to mention the additional ones after theyâd foiled the assassin) hadnât gotten to her own. She certainly wasnât behaving like she had been for the entirety of the night beforehand.
He ascended the stairs from the study into the hallways overlooking the atrium, noting the corridors leading to the courtyard in the far corner where Florianne had revealed herself to be the chief malefactor in the nightâs intrigues, and the doors behind which the Empress and her relatives had been hiding their secretsâsecrets which the Inquisitor had employed in her last-ditch efforts for peace, which thankfully had borne fruit.
For that matter, it was one of those very doors which Cassandra was opening, with the window still wide open from when Rivka hadâ
Letting his voice finish his thoughts, Blackwall asked, âIsnât this the room where we found that harlequined assassin threateningâŠâ
âYes,â he heard Cassandraâs voice behind him say, along with the sound of the door closing, âThis is the room which the former Grand Duchess used to live in.â
Turning around, he asked her, âIs there some reason youâve brought me here?â
âWell,â she said, adjusting the top button on her uniform, âI knew full well that it would be the one room in the entire palace which would be unoccupied tonight.â
Looking at its four walls, he said, âThatâs true enough. So, what is it that you had to show me which warranted us coming here?â
âNothing that you havenât seen already, to be honest,â Cassandra said, exposing her bra-bound bosom to him and letting the flaps of her uniform hang by her sides.
Blinking as he tried to keep his eyes focused upwards of her throat, Blackwall asked carefully, âAre you perhaps feeling feverish, Cassandra? I was getting concerned about all that Antivan wine you wereââ
She crossed her still-sleeved arms under her breasts, interrupting him, âI am certainly not, and I donât see a point to you being so obtuse, Blackwall. When are you ever going to get the chance to have a tryst in the Winter Palace?â
âCassandra,â Blackwall began, âWhen I teased you about spontaneity, I didnât quite have this in mind.â
âDid you not?â, she asked, closing the distance between them and turning him so his back faced the bed. âIf youâve truly been taking notes from Varric and his works, how else am I supposed to interpret you filling my ears with talk about romance late in the night, after a grand ball, in this setting of all places?â
Finding there to be no space left between the bed and his calves, he sat back and down upon it, Cassandraâs statuesque figure towering over him more so than she usually did.
Looking down on him as though a mile away, she continued, âFor so long after I dared to love once again, Iâd read such things, dreaming of someone to enter my life and sweep me off my feet. We have come too close to danger, separately or together, for me to leave such affairs to chance anymore.â
âIâŠâ Blackwall stammered, âIâŠdonât know what to say.â
âThen stop thinking,â Cassandra responded, ordering, âAnd just kiss me.â
She leant in and he tilted his head up, and the familiar feeling of her lips on his filled him with a sudden warmth and passion. He eagerly nipped at her lip as her tongue danced upon his, the two of them breaking away and coming back together once, twice, then too many times to count easily.
He felt her weight lean into his as he came to lay on the Grand Duchessâ bed, their lips still locked together as he sank backwards. Cassandra came up for air for a moment. Spotting the long scar upon her cheek, Blackwall set several kisses upon it, causing her to tremble just a touch.
âYou know me, and what I enjoy so well,â she said between hoarse breaths. âI couldnât very well let this opportunity go to waste, could I?â
âNo,â he answered, âNot at all.â
She smiled, cupping his face with her hands as she stroked the sides of his beard with her thumbs, then planting them on either side of him as she leant forward, drawing her knee up between his legs.
âI seem to recall that you liked this very much,â she said, gently rolling her knee towards his groin and feeling him get harder with each stroke.
Any answer was lost as his breath caught in his throat, Cassandra wantonly stroking him through her trouser leg and his, kissing him again then diving further forward and filling his view with her bosom.
âYour hands are free, are they not, Blackwall?â, she gasped, glancing at the bra still restraining her breasts. âUse that clever tongue of yours as well.â
Blackwall practically ripped the gloves off his hands, casting them into the far corners of the room as he slid his fingertips along the curves of Cassandraâs ribs, causing her to shudder momentarily, tracing them to the clasps that held her bra together. He got them to separate with some little fiddling, and he slipped the whole thing off her chest, discarding it to the side where it joined one of his gloves.
Taking her command, he lapped at her pert nipples gently at first, then again and again as his hands moved down her sides, snaking their way into the gap between her trousers and the seat of her smallclothes. Cassandra hurriedly got up to undo her belt and the button at her waistline, giving his hands just enough purchase to grasp a cheek each, groaning his name as he did so and feverishly massaging him with her knee.
His breath ragged, Blackwall gasped, âWait. If you keep this upâŠâ
Cassandra looked down and below at him, a smirk on her face. âOh. I see the fabled Grey Warden stamina is rather over-vaunted?â
Shaking a drop of sweat off his brow, Blackwall said, âSomething like that. Besides, youâve barely given me the opportunity to undress myself.â
âItâs hardly my fault,â Cassandra retorted, âbut very well. I might perhaps do without this jacket as well since weâve come this far.â
She released him, standing up to let the sleeves of her top slide off her arms, the jacket landing on the floor with a gentle flumph as Blackwall sat up, removing his own and leaving himself wearing only his trousersâmuch the same as when theyâd run into each other in the corridors of the villa where theyâd freshened up prior to this very ball, on reflection.
And much like then, she was now as bare as the day she was born, albeit with no towel in sight this time. Her boots and pants, too, had been discarded, and she was now slipping her smalls down one of her long legs.
Blackwall gazed upwards at Cassandra, taking in the sight of her figure as though heâd never see it again, not like this anyway. Internally he gave thanks to the Maker for bringing this woman into her life, and for her to consider him worthy despiteâŠwell, time enough for that later. He was sure that he was mirroring the desire which filled her eyes as she gazed at him whilst unhooking her panties from around her toes, carelessly throwing them away.
Realising that heâd only gotten half the job completed, Blackwall reached for his belt before he felt her hands on his wrists.
âWait,â he heard her say. âLet me.â
Idly thinking that this was going beyond his wildest dreams now, he released his grip and placed his hands on the edge of the bed. The tongue of the belt slipped ring by ring past the clasp, and soon he felt it loosen from around his waist, the only thing keeping his trousers on being the buttons running down the front of them.
She reached for them, saying, âImagine this, Blackwall. If we could be like this foreverâŠâ
Asking through ragged breaths, his pulse hammering in his chest, he said, âWhat do you mean?â
Looking up at him, she said, âJust the two of us alone, ignoring the rest of world, making this instance last for eternity, without a care at all, of course. Is it not tempting, even momentarily?â
Letting silence descend after the question, Blackwall perked his hearing, realising that it was total silenceânot even the ambient noise of the partiers or minstrels who had been providing the music for the drunken revellers after the successful conclusion of the peace forged at the Winter Ball sounded anywhere around where they were.
Sensing his discord, she asked, âIs something the matter?â
âNothing, IâŠâ, Blackwall trailed off, unable to put words to his uneasiness.
Smiling, she continued her work working off button after button, saying, âI donât think we need worry. We arenât liable to missed, not for now. Perhaps for a while yet, even?â
A deep chill running through him, Blackwall reached for her wrist, firmly guiding her hand away from the fly of his trousers. Surprised, she glanced up at him again.
âIs something truly wrong?â, she asked.
Thinking for long seconds and praying to the Maker he was wrong, mouthing for Him to forgive him should he simply be asking this question misguidedly, he eventually forced it out, feeling his eyes water at the implications of what he was about to discover.
âWho are you, and what do you want?â
The woman bearing Cassandraâs likeness stood above him, hurt. âWhat do you mean?â
Rebuttoning his trousers and keeping his gaze fixed on the face of the stranger before him, Blackwall said, âNo matter how besotted she was with someone, thereâs no chance that Cassandra would ever consider a dereliction of her duty like thisâcertainly not whilst playing the part of a coquettish Chantry sister. And finally, we neverâŠconsummatedâŠuntil after this night. Maker knows why I even went along with this charade in the first place. Iâm going to ask you again, woman. Why are you pretending to be the Lady Seeker?â
âI donât know,â she asked. âWhy are you pretending to be the Warden-Constable, Thom Rainier?â
He stood up to confront her, his boots letting him reach her eye levelâthe real Cassandra otherwise stood a good inch taller than himâexplaining, âWarden Blackwall dies two days from now, as does Thom Rainier. Once again.â
âIt doesnât have to be this way,â the woman said, her eyes briefly flashing a demoniac purple.
âWhat do you mean?â, Blackwall demanded, adding, âAnd for the Makerâs sake, put some clothes on. I donât need you wearing her skin so vulgarly.â
She conceded by simply wrapping the jacket around herself, exposing the rest of said skin to the rest of the worldâwhich seemed to solely comprise of Blackwall at the moment.
âItâs hardly so complicated, Rainier,â she said. âAll you have to do is sleep in too long and youâll simply never make it to Val Royeaux on time the day after. Your secret dies with Mornay, and you can just lie when the Inquisition catches up with you here.â
Anger rising within him, Blackwall spat, âThatâs all this is? Your great temptation is just the truth never coming to light?â
âNo,â she said, âI had simply been offering you one final chance to experience a night with your love, without her suspecting you or your identity in the least. She certainly will be turning the meaning of that note again over and over in her head every night from now till whenâŠwhen your lives go the way all things go. Why ruin this, Rainier? You seemed perfectly eager minutes ago after all, Blackwall.â
âBut itâs a lie!â, he protested.
âSo too has your life in all of its aspects for nearly half a decade,â the apparent demon with Cassandraâs face retorted. âWhat does it matter?â
âIt matters. Maker forgive me for taking so long to realise this, but the truth matters. It matters to the men Iâve left to hang for my cowardice, but it matters becauseâŠbecause the woman youâre masquerading as deserves the truth,â he said. Bitterly laughing, he added, âItâs in her job title, after all.â
Realising he couldnât control his laughter, and realising it wasnât laughter at all, but the grief of years finally erupting in terrible sobs, he collapsed back onto the very bed where, if his imagination and this woman had reigned supreme, wouldâve been witness to the multitude of pleasures the flesh was heir to, but now just seated a miserable shell of a man.
âMaker, forgive me,â he begged, âCassandra, forgive me. Not for what Iâve done but forâŠnot even then. Forget me, Cassandra.â
The spirit with her visage, now fully dressed in the same armour heâd seen the Lady Seeker wearing when they had first met on the shores of Lake Luthias, stepped forward, gently grasping his temples and planting a kiss on his forehead.
âOnly the Maker knows how His children will decide to act, but I think I understand something now that I didnât before, Thom Rainier,â she said gently. âYou know your purpose, and I now know mine.â
âPurpose?â, he asked blandly.
âIâŠnow remember a time before this,â she said, continuing, âYour fitful sleep practically screamed out to me, and I thought you to simply be easy prey at first. But thisâŠis different.â
âI donât understand.â
Shaking her head, she said, âI donât either, and we may never truly do so. But Iâll see to it you have a full nightâs rest and see to your own purpose, Blackwall, or Rainier. Youâve a long ride ahead from here to the capital, after all.â
With that, she stepped out of the door, the walls of the palace, along with the floor under Blackwall, breaking apart and floating through the ether as he felt himself falling, falling and fallingâŠ
=
âŠand waking up in cold sweat on the hard bed in the tavern. Refusing to let himself piece together the strange and disturbing dream which heâd just experienced, Blackwall threw his clothes onto himself, vaguely remembering tossing a sovereign to the innkeeper and saddling Princess Mairyn after doing so, half-dazed and half-aware as he went through the motions of leaving the place.
On the road leading out of Halamshiral he stopped at the crest of a nearby bund, turning back to look at the horizon and the dim outline of the Winter Palace for some long moments, before galloping at full speed towards Val Royeaux, where his destiny lay.
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