He'd grown used to being alone. Away from the hustle and bustle of cities, out in the wilderness where he led the templars and other bounty hunters out for his head on a merry chase, because it was the only way he could be sure to keep those he loved safe. But after Maker knew how many months of endless traveling, the sky had split open, and the world had gone up in flames. Chaos abounded, the Divine assassinated on the eve of a conclave of peace.
And Maker, to learn that it was Corypheus, a monster he himself had defeated and left as naught else but ashes in the Deep Roads, responsible for this entire mess, well. That burden had been weighing heavy on his shoulders ever since Varric told him.
That burden had brought him here, to Skyhold, "guest" of a novice Inquisitor at the head of a young but growing institution. He'd taken a huge chance, coming here; there were still many seeking to claim the bounty on his head, but this young Trevelyan seemed to have her head on straight, at least. She'd opted to hear him out, weigh her options, and come to the same conclusion Hawke had: Stroud needed to be found, and they all needed to work together to solve the mystery of the missing Wardens (Hawke's brother among them) and heal the Maker-damned sky.
But the noise of a keep was still...unnerving, after so many months of solitude, and Hawke had taken to frequenting Skyhold's high battlements just to gain a bit of peace and quiet. And perspective, lest that be forgotten. He still spent evenings with Varric in the tavern, and the two old friends spent most of the nights talking and drinking, soaking up each other's company to tide them both over during the months - years - they'd have to be inevitably separated.
Most of Skyhold's residents gave him a healthy berth; Hawke had made a point of stating that he was no longer the "Champion of Kirkwall", or the "Champion" of anything, really, and he suspected Varric's hand in making sure that stuck. Nevertheless, he'd heard of the altercation between his beloved dwarf and the Chantry Seeker right after his arrival, and had just kept his distance. Varric was still smarting from it - Hawke didn't blame him one bit - but it did surprise the mage when, one bright but cold afternoon, he heard measured steps approaching and lifted a sharp eyebrow in complete surprise to see the Seeker herself joining him on the parapet.
"Lady Seeker," he replied, inclining his head politely. But warily. Even though he couldn't help his crooked smile at her opening salvo. "Only mostly? That's a shame. Here I'd come to believe you were ten feet tall, breathed fire hotter than a dragon, and ate small children for breakfast." Then he winked at her. "Glad to see Varric was exaggerating."
If anything, Cassandra prefers the ridiculous exaggerations, the ones that could not be true even if she tried, because it is obvious that they are not meant to be believed. She makes a noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, at Hawke's descriptions, only to be completely blindsided by that wink.
Was he...? No, surely not. She was overthinking things, as was her custom in these situations. She clears her throat as though in attempt to regain her footing in the conversation: so many hours, days, months she'd spent trying to find Hawke, how foolish it would be to now grow weak at the knees simply at the mere fact of being in his presence!
"A true pity I am not taller," she says, with an exaggerated sigh, "although anyone would appear to be such a height from a dwarf's perspective."
Speaking of height, Cassandra must admit that the Champion of Kirkwall is even taller than she had anticipated; more solid as well. She has known many mages throughout her life, and none had been quite so muscular. Not that this observation was of any relevance to their conversation, of course.
As usual when it came to more social pursuits, Cassandra had made her approach without much thought about where the conversation would go next. She stumbles over her own thoughts for a moment before finally settling on asking, "How are you finding Skyhold?"
Her observation about dwarf height actually made him chuckle, a slanted grin following. But Hawke had to agree. "They don't have far to fall when they keel over at the ale barrel, either." For all of Varric's blustering about dwarven constitutions, Hawke had hauled his drunken friend out of the Hanged Man more than enough times. The memory brought another chuckle, and a cynical sparkle to tired blue eyes.
But to answer her question... "It's damned impressive." At first sight, at least. "Big place, solid enough to hold off a siege for a good while." The mage glanced around the battlements, introspective. "Vulnerable to aerial attack, however. I'd inquire of the commander to perhaps situate a few catapults or smaller trebuchets up here, just in case." But it wasn't his job to plan battles or devise tactics.
"Still, it's a good place for the Inquisition, from what I've seen."
Musing quietly a moment, Hawke eased over to lean against the parapet, hands clasped as he gazed out over the brilliantly white mountainside. "Allow me, Seeker," he said after a minute or so of quiet. "To apologize, at least." Hawke sighed, dark head lowering before he straightened and turned back to Cassandra.
"Varric didn't tell me about his capture and interrogation. Nor did he inform me that you were looking for me. If he had...I don't know. I might have agreed to at least meet with you, discuss a few things...as long as you weren't trying to take my head back with you." Hawke shook his head again, chagrined. Mostly at himself.
"I don't fault Varric for playing his cards so close - I understand why he did and I'm grateful for it, and always will be." He plowed a hand through his hair, wondering exactly how to say it. "I suppose I just...I just wish circumstances had been different, that's all. That we might have been able to save more lives." Hawke gave her a somewhat sheepish grin, expression oddly boyish. "Does that make any sort of sense at all?"
Her brows are furrowed as she listens to his apology, not due to a lack of understanding but rather because she finds such words unnecessary. If anyone should be saying sorry to her, it should be Varric, but that conversation was done. Over. While she had started to develop a certain fondness for the dwarf, she knew there were many matters they would never seen eye-to-eye on, and this was simply another one of them.
An unkind part of herself wonders whether Varric had been right, wonders if she'd had friends she'd understand the steps one might take to protect them, but there's nothing to be gained by nurturing that speculation. She didn't understand, and she doubted she ever would.
"It does," she assures him, as she tries to weave some thread of meaning out of the events that had led them to where they were today. "Perhaps he knew you too well. Knew you would agree to meet me." Cassandra knew that she would be furious, in Hawke's position, to have decisions made for her, but she was learning, slowly but surely, that not everyone in Thedas was exactly like her.
And thank the Maker they weren't!
A small smile curves upon her face once more as she continues. "I was not expecting such a sound examination of the castle's defenses. I will have to pass your comments on to the Commander." They certainly could be made use of, she thinks, especially if they encounter more Maker-forsaken dragons. The smile fades slightly as she hunches her shoulders awkwardly; she feels as though she ought to clarify her previous question.
"For what it's worth, I was asking on a more... personal note. That is, have people been treating you well? Are you accommodations suitable?"
Maker, but she is bad at this. These conversations certainly are more the Ambassador's forte.
Hawke blinked. "Oh." Then gave a short laugh. "For the most part, yes. There were a few double-takes and long stares when I first rode through the gates, admittedly. I'm not sure if they expected me to implode on the spot or turn into a dragon. But Varric did well in keeping most of the keep blissfully unaware of my presence. Particularly the mercenaries who are now working for the Inquisition."
He gestured down the parapet, silently inviting Cassandra to walk along with him. "And other than being dismally cold, perpetually damp, and woefully underfurnished, my guest room's just fine. It's private, thankfully, so there's not much chance of random folks just dropping by for a visit." But his smile belied any real complaint, and he added, "Believe me, after being on the move for more than a year now, any sort of quarters are heavenly."
Hawke snorted lightly. "I'd even be grateful to bunk down in the stables, if it came to that. Provided the horses could tolerate my snoring."
But he gave Cassandra a speculative glance as they strolled along the battlement. "Although I do appreciate the concern, Seeker, what's your real reason for asking? Or are your queries more academic than sincere?"
Cassandra blanches when Hawke asks her about motives; she hadn't intended to be so obvious, so transparent. With a quick shake of the head, she does her best to dismiss any notions of ulterior motives. "I am not here on official business," she assures Hawke, as she begins to stride alongside him, in easy acceptance of his invitation.
She huffs lightly before continuing. "Is it so wrong to want to learn more about a man who I've heard so much about?" A man she had worked so hard to find, she wants to say, but decides that is better left unsaid, perhaps even goes without saying at all. What she cannot help but add, however, is a mild jest.
"If you do decide you would prefer to bunk down in the stables, you may have to fight it out with Warden Blackwall. I do believe he is already quite established there."
Her quip actually made him laugh, his humor, though tired and worn-slap-out, coming through with astonishing ease. "I think I'll hold off on declaring war on the Wardens, Seeker, but thank you anyway." Blue eyes sparkled beneath the mop of dark hair. "He can have the stables. My tower is comfortable enough."
Her curiosity wasn't so totally out of place, though. So many people had read Varric's book; it still astounded him how far the tales had spread. And while the dwarf had taken a few liberties here and there, he'd gotten most of it exactly right, much to Hawke's never-ending sorrow.
"Well, what would you like to know?" Blinking, Hawke realized that he'd inadvertently set himself up, but what the hell? It wasn't as if she were going to behead him now. ...was she?
"Tell you what, my lady, let's fetch up with a few barrels of Skyhold's good ale, a quiet corner in which to swill it, and I'll answer whatever question you ask." He paused, then added, "...er, within reason, of course." Surely spending a little time in good company - and somehow attractive company - wasn't frowned upon around here, was it?
She is surprised at the mage's easy offer, but not displeased. Perhaps she should not be so astonished; according to her sources (the book and straight from dwarf's mouth itself), the Champion had always been a personable fellow, the type to collect a ragtag group of miscreants and drag them across the countryside.
It amuses her, to think of herself as one of his followers. At first, she offers only a huff in response to the question, but after another moment or two of consideration she smiles, more easily than she had expected. "All right. So long as it's the good ale."
The Ambassador would understand. If anything, Josephine would be delighted to hear that Cassandra is making connections, which only strengths her resolve to not let the other woman find out about it. Not that there's any real point in trying to keep secrets around the hold. The walls have ears. Leliana's ears.
There's one more point which she feels the need to clarify. "And," she begins sharply, "you promise not to call me a 'lady' again." She might be seventy-eighth in line to the Nevarran throne, but she'd like to not be reminded of that fact, thank you very much.
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Date: 2020-06-12 02:53 am (UTC)And Maker, to learn that it was Corypheus, a monster he himself had defeated and left as naught else but ashes in the Deep Roads, responsible for this entire mess, well. That burden had been weighing heavy on his shoulders ever since Varric told him.
That burden had brought him here, to Skyhold, "guest" of a novice Inquisitor at the head of a young but growing institution. He'd taken a huge chance, coming here; there were still many seeking to claim the bounty on his head, but this young Trevelyan seemed to have her head on straight, at least. She'd opted to hear him out, weigh her options, and come to the same conclusion Hawke had: Stroud needed to be found, and they all needed to work together to solve the mystery of the missing Wardens (Hawke's brother among them) and heal the Maker-damned sky.
But the noise of a keep was still...unnerving, after so many months of solitude, and Hawke had taken to frequenting Skyhold's high battlements just to gain a bit of peace and quiet. And perspective, lest that be forgotten. He still spent evenings with Varric in the tavern, and the two old friends spent most of the nights talking and drinking, soaking up each other's company to tide them both over during the months - years - they'd have to be inevitably separated.
Most of Skyhold's residents gave him a healthy berth; Hawke had made a point of stating that he was no longer the "Champion of Kirkwall", or the "Champion" of anything, really, and he suspected Varric's hand in making sure that stuck. Nevertheless, he'd heard of the altercation between his beloved dwarf and the Chantry Seeker right after his arrival, and had just kept his distance. Varric was still smarting from it - Hawke didn't blame him one bit - but it did surprise the mage when, one bright but cold afternoon, he heard measured steps approaching and lifted a sharp eyebrow in complete surprise to see the Seeker herself joining him on the parapet.
"Lady Seeker," he replied, inclining his head politely. But warily. Even though he couldn't help his crooked smile at her opening salvo. "Only mostly? That's a shame. Here I'd come to believe you were ten feet tall, breathed fire hotter than a dragon, and ate small children for breakfast." Then he winked at her. "Glad to see Varric was exaggerating."
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Date: 2020-06-13 09:30 am (UTC)Was he...? No, surely not. She was overthinking things, as was her custom in these situations. She clears her throat as though in attempt to regain her footing in the conversation: so many hours, days, months she'd spent trying to find Hawke, how foolish it would be to now grow weak at the knees simply at the mere fact of being in his presence!
"A true pity I am not taller," she says, with an exaggerated sigh, "although anyone would appear to be such a height from a dwarf's perspective."
Speaking of height, Cassandra must admit that the Champion of Kirkwall is even taller than she had anticipated; more solid as well. She has known many mages throughout her life, and none had been quite so muscular. Not that this observation was of any relevance to their conversation, of course.
As usual when it came to more social pursuits, Cassandra had made her approach without much thought about where the conversation would go next. She stumbles over her own thoughts for a moment before finally settling on asking, "How are you finding Skyhold?"
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Date: 2020-06-13 06:52 pm (UTC)But to answer her question... "It's damned impressive." At first sight, at least. "Big place, solid enough to hold off a siege for a good while." The mage glanced around the battlements, introspective. "Vulnerable to aerial attack, however. I'd inquire of the commander to perhaps situate a few catapults or smaller trebuchets up here, just in case." But it wasn't his job to plan battles or devise tactics.
"Still, it's a good place for the Inquisition, from what I've seen."
Musing quietly a moment, Hawke eased over to lean against the parapet, hands clasped as he gazed out over the brilliantly white mountainside. "Allow me, Seeker," he said after a minute or so of quiet. "To apologize, at least." Hawke sighed, dark head lowering before he straightened and turned back to Cassandra.
"Varric didn't tell me about his capture and interrogation. Nor did he inform me that you were looking for me. If he had...I don't know. I might have agreed to at least meet with you, discuss a few things...as long as you weren't trying to take my head back with you." Hawke shook his head again, chagrined. Mostly at himself.
"I don't fault Varric for playing his cards so close - I understand why he did and I'm grateful for it, and always will be." He plowed a hand through his hair, wondering exactly how to say it. "I suppose I just...I just wish circumstances had been different, that's all. That we might have been able to save more lives." Hawke gave her a somewhat sheepish grin, expression oddly boyish. "Does that make any sort of sense at all?"
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Date: 2020-06-14 01:16 pm (UTC)An unkind part of herself wonders whether Varric had been right, wonders if she'd had friends she'd understand the steps one might take to protect them, but there's nothing to be gained by nurturing that speculation. She didn't understand, and she doubted she ever would.
"It does," she assures him, as she tries to weave some thread of meaning out of the events that had led them to where they were today. "Perhaps he knew you too well. Knew you would agree to meet me." Cassandra knew that she would be furious, in Hawke's position, to have decisions made for her, but she was learning, slowly but surely, that not everyone in Thedas was exactly like her.
And thank the Maker they weren't!
A small smile curves upon her face once more as she continues. "I was not expecting such a sound examination of the castle's defenses. I will have to pass your comments on to the Commander." They certainly could be made use of, she thinks, especially if they encounter more Maker-forsaken dragons. The smile fades slightly as she hunches her shoulders awkwardly; she feels as though she ought to clarify her previous question.
"For what it's worth, I was asking on a more... personal note. That is, have people been treating you well? Are you accommodations suitable?"
Maker, but she is bad at this. These conversations certainly are more the Ambassador's forte.
Still, she cannot deny herself her curiosity.
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Date: 2020-06-15 01:36 am (UTC)He gestured down the parapet, silently inviting Cassandra to walk along with him. "And other than being dismally cold, perpetually damp, and woefully underfurnished, my guest room's just fine. It's private, thankfully, so there's not much chance of random folks just dropping by for a visit." But his smile belied any real complaint, and he added, "Believe me, after being on the move for more than a year now, any sort of quarters are heavenly."
Hawke snorted lightly. "I'd even be grateful to bunk down in the stables, if it came to that. Provided the horses could tolerate my snoring."
But he gave Cassandra a speculative glance as they strolled along the battlement. "Although I do appreciate the concern, Seeker, what's your real reason for asking? Or are your queries more academic than sincere?"
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Date: 2020-06-20 11:43 am (UTC)She huffs lightly before continuing. "Is it so wrong to want to learn more about a man who I've heard so much about?" A man she had worked so hard to find, she wants to say, but decides that is better left unsaid, perhaps even goes without saying at all. What she cannot help but add, however, is a mild jest.
"If you do decide you would prefer to bunk down in the stables, you may have to fight it out with Warden Blackwall. I do believe he is already quite established there."
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Date: 2020-06-20 08:18 pm (UTC)Her curiosity wasn't so totally out of place, though. So many people had read Varric's book; it still astounded him how far the tales had spread. And while the dwarf had taken a few liberties here and there, he'd gotten most of it exactly right, much to Hawke's never-ending sorrow.
"Well, what would you like to know?" Blinking, Hawke realized that he'd inadvertently set himself up, but what the hell? It wasn't as if she were going to behead him now. ...was she?
"Tell you what, my lady, let's fetch up with a few barrels of Skyhold's good ale, a quiet corner in which to swill it, and I'll answer whatever question you ask." He paused, then added, "...er, within reason, of course." Surely spending a little time in good company - and somehow attractive company - wasn't frowned upon around here, was it?
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Date: 2020-06-27 11:37 am (UTC)It amuses her, to think of herself as one of his followers. At first, she offers only a huff in response to the question, but after another moment or two of consideration she smiles, more easily than she had expected. "All right. So long as it's the good ale."
The Ambassador would understand. If anything, Josephine would be delighted to hear that Cassandra is making connections, which only strengths her resolve to not let the other woman find out about it. Not that there's any real point in trying to keep secrets around the hold. The walls have ears. Leliana's ears.
There's one more point which she feels the need to clarify. "And," she begins sharply, "you promise not to call me a 'lady' again." She might be seventy-eighth in line to the Nevarran throne, but she'd like to not be reminded of that fact, thank you very much.