#haludh.

Bellara glances over at Lanaya in the warm firelight and cannot help but to mirror the crooked grin that she finds on her features. She's been hovering all evening, but every time Bellara gets close enough to potentially say something, she changes her mind and dances back out of reach like a butterfly.

"I can't help it," Bellara offers, "you're sitting at the head of the table looking so intimidating. So scary," the Veiljumper teases liberally. Without further ado, she drops directly next to Lanaya and pulls out what looks to be a sheet of bark. She flattens it on the table in front of Lanaya.

The words struck him quickly and deftly like a knife in the dark. For all he knew, the Inquisitor had just become his assassin. If there was a death out there for him—well, he supposed it would be better off to expose his neck to her for the cutting.

He thought these things and did otherwise. A thick lump had formed in his throat and he found himself turning away. The clench of his jaw withheld a crumbling dam of emotion that he dared not probe.

Cassian had nearly forgotten the sense of tranquility afforded to him now. Awakening to the warmth of Lanaya pressed against him, her lips dropping kisses all along his face, he could nearly forget about the way sleep still clawed at him. He knew what it was: the Fade calling him back. It kept trying to drag him back by the tailcoats of his dreams.

He turned his face further upwards to the face of the only one who mattered to him and smiled in time to catch another kiss. In this one he managed to kiss her back. A low, throaty laugh escaped him.

there's much to be said about the way lanaya looks, but he finds how determined (stubborn) extremely attractive, like she'll find a way to do anything if she really wants to. he can't imagine there's much that could stand in her way.

Each slip of the ribbon was more satisfying than the last.

It wasn't about restraining Lanaya's actions, per say, but more of... Cassian being able to tease her just how he wanted. Every shiver, sigh, and moan was just as intentional as the last. While he straddled Lanaya, the flush on her cheeks was as sweet as her kiss.

"This color looks good on you." He remarked slyly. It wasn't clear if he meant the ribbon or simply the dark flush on her skin. The grin on his lips was hungry and self-satisfied. Cassian gave the ribbon one last test-tug and shuffled back to regard his handiwork: at Lanaya's arms stretched upward and bound, forcing every muscle to strain. Her curves, so beautifully on display, akin to the ancient statues of old, caught his gaze and made his lung restrict.

He thought he'd feel power. Instead, he felt devotion. He gravitated to each freckle and each spatter of vitiligo. In Cassian's wake, he left dark, concentrated bruises, teeth worried and tongue methodical. He worked his way down Lanaya's body deftly and savoured her like wine. When he reached her thighs, he paused to look up and catch Lan's gaze.

cassian is a stern but loving father. he desperately wants to be a father in a way that he had never had himself as a child. his only role models were ones that he had come to loathe as time passed by (for very good reasons), and thus he does not want to replicate them whatsoever. he views himself as a fuck-up, too, something not meant to be here, per say. if he could avoid letting his children go down the same pathway as him, then he'd certainly try.

he's surprisingly adept at teaching magic to his children! it's something that he enjoys and that he teaches them to enjoy, to feel proud of, to foster and grow rather than repress and fear as they had taught in the circle. he would not follow the circle's teachings whatsoever. the children would be considered apostates, but he will never, ever surrender them to the chantry. the closest possible form of education would perhaps be through tevinter, as they treat mages quite differently.

as he himself is a blood mage, he cannot say that it is not allowed. rather, the children would be very well-informed as to the consequences and the stigma of blood magic and they'd be able to make the decisions themselves when they were older. ultimately, he cannot control their actions, only offer his own opinion.

a non-mage child would be more unfamiliar to him. he's grown up around children with magic, he was a child with magic, and so to not have this "burden" upon them leaves a sort of question mark in their place. still, it doesn't mean that they are any less worthy of love or attention. whatever their skills prove to be, he would be sure to nurture them--sword training for a warrior, contacting leliana for a rogue, etc.

Wardens,

Please give the letter attached to Warden-Commander Cassian Amell. It is very important that he receives the letter as soon as he gets better. Don't let him read it until he is fully healed, as I assume he will feel urged to leave bedrest.

Take care of him for me. As many of you remember he was a vital part of the Inquisition. His sacrifice allowed those of us to escape the fade and make it home. We owe our lives and everything to him.

Yrs.,

Adahl'melana "Lanaya" Istimaethoriel Lavellan, Inquisitor First-Thaw.

Attached is a letter addressed to Cassian in Lanaya's handwriting. Handwriting is professional and hints at the writer being unfamiliar or a stranger to the receiver. Towards the end the handwriting becomes more familiar.

Letter from The Front to Warden-Commander Cassian Amell:

Cass Cassian,

I would go to Adamant Fortress in person to see you for myself but I'm afraid many things prevent me from doing so. They say the fade "spit you out" (not my words), is that true? I assumed I would never see you again.

There's a lot to say but I'm afraid this letter would be never-ending and we'd be here all day, so I will make an attempt to keep it short.

If you haven't been briefed yet, you really have a knack for timing. There's a new blight we don't quite understand yet, my own Gods are loose in the North (they also control the Blight and darkspawn, I will explain later).

Please come to our Forward Camp at your earliest convenience and when you're feeling better (I mean it, stay in bed until you're cleared, Cassian). We are hoping to take back Skyhold, as it has been overrun with darkspawn and blight. The South is in shambles but what remains of the Inquisition is doing its best to keep things together.

In Orlais, a splinter faction of the nobility has united with the Venatori and launched an assault on both the royal forces of Orlais and the border keeps of Ferelden. Antaam corsairs harass shipping out of Ostwick, and further south, blight has emerged. Hoards of darkspawn have been spotted near the ruins of Ostagar. And to top it all off, nobody wants to work together. So, here I am, putting things back together once again. Care to join me?

I apologize for how professional this letter may seem. Being face-to-face would allow for me to speak more openly and speak on more personal matters. If you come to our Forward Camp, that is. I would understand if you would rather make yourself useful anywhere else.

I missed you.

I'm relieved and glad that you're alive, even despite everything.

Yours,

Lanaya.

Letter from the Hero of Ferelden, Champion of Redcliffe, Fereldan Warden-Commander Cassian Amell to Inquisitor Adahl'melana Istimaethoriel Lavellan, Inquisitor First-Thaw.

It arrives in a hastily-closed bit of parchment as if the sender was in a rush. The wax seal is a Darkspawn-blood deep red with the Grey Warden sigil.

The writing scrawled upon the paper is slanted and visibly shaky, like the writer is unaccustomed to holding a quill in his hand. Lanaya's name is meticulously and flawlessly written.

Inquis Lanaya,

Yes, the Fade opened up and 'spat me out', as they said. It wasn't particularly pleasant. My backside is quite tender, as you can imagine. The feeling of being upon solid ground is... indescribable. Overwhelming, almost.

I decided to linger in the Fade for a while (what year is it?) and all of Thedas falls to shambles. Typical, really. I am so amused. Can you hear how pleased I am about it? Maker, what was it Alistair said to me when we first met...

Ah, yes: one good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together.

I thought him to be mad (much like most of my companions during that time), but it continues to be proven again and again.

You have consumed my every waking thought since my return. Has your voice deepened with age? Have you somehow surpassed your beauty? I imagine the subtle pepper of white strands throughout the red. I was terrified that I would forget the sound of your voice, or the curve of your cheek, your hand within mine.

I will arrive at the Forward Camp within a fortnight.

Faithfully yours,

Cassian

This was cruelty at its finest. Oh, Maker, how cruelty could still be so beautiful. Lanaya has him wrapped around her finger. Sweat clings to the tense muscles of his neck, Cassian's hair tousled and lips spit-slick from earlier. Even the muscle peeking out of the hastily undone shirt flayed open spoke of endless tension.

He couldn't give her the satisfaction. He couldn't. He wouldn't. The way Lanaya looks at him, though, so intently and challengingly, makes him want to squirm again. Oh, yes, Lanaya's hands had wandered across his chest and down to the hard length between his legs. Over and over again, she had stroked and coaxed him to the edge, his grunts and stifled moans becoming so apparent it was hardly even a question.

'Lan—shit, Lanaya—"

Cassian's hips bucked upwards involuntarily. He chased the mounting pressure, that just-not-enough feeling while she strung him along so expertly. It was nearly painful how aroused he was. She could look at him the wrong way and he'd—

His entire body tensed as the pleasure swelled and threatened to peak. He moved into her hand desperately, practically whimpering beneath her—and then gasped.

Nothing. Again. Cassian's heart thrummed a million miles a minute, his entire body reeling with all this tension and nowhere for it to go. His chest heaved and another bead of sweat collected in the hollow of his collarbone.