Cassandra Pentaghast, former Right Hand of the Divine and current Lady Seeker, walked out of the armory at her usual early morning hour. She sighed with satisfaction. While Skyhold was never what one would call quiet, this time of day had seen the tavern's patrons stumble home while the rest of the fortress hadn't quite cracked their eyes open. She swung her arms across her body, loosening up for her morning's sword work. Her favorite practice dummy beckoned her.

As she got closer, she frowned. There was a sword, abandoned, leaning against it. She knelt to examine it. Good quality work. Not Inquisition-made, clearly someone's personal weapon they'd brought when joining. It showed signs of use and care, which was at odds with it being casually forgotten in the middle of an empty practice yard. She'd made up her mind to take it to the armory and leave it for someone to claim it later when a voice called out behind her. "Lady Seeker! Forgive me, I seem to have left something behind."

She turned with the sword in her hand to see a young man in training clothes. It was the standard outfit of a fighter, but the quality was better than most. He wore his brown hair shoulder-length. It was matted slightly with sweat, though he looked fresh and awake as he grinned at her. His accent was Fereldan, but she recognized the careless, devilish glint in his eye from the many times she'd argued with Dorian. About everything. She sighed. Almost certainly a noble. Definitely trouble. She held out the weapon. "You're a new recruit, I take it?"

"Yes, Seeker. Dean Bernier. My father is a minor lord in the Bannorn with a surfeit of sons with an overabundance of charm. He suggested I find a cause or find a wife. I thought a cause might be more enjoyable. The Inquisition fit the bill." He tipped his head. "How did you know I was a new recruit? Do you have all the soldiers in the keep memorized?"

She snorted. "Hardly. But only a new recruit would be careless enough to leave his sword behind. Skyhold may be the safest place in Thedas, but nowhere is completely without danger."

"Of course, Lady Seeker, I will endeavor to look in every shadow as I pass it in case of fiends," he said. His mouth quirked a smile, and she rolled her eyes. Recruits were always like this, thinking they were invincible because the Inquisition seemed invincible. He'd learn soon enough. She held the hilt out to him, and he took it but made no move to leave. She raised her eyebrows. He stayed still.

She turned her back on him and began the opening pattern of her warm-up. When a spin brought her around again, the recruit was walking back towards the barracks. He saw her spin and raised a hand in a jaunty wave. She ignored him.

A week later, Iron Bull asked her to hit him with a stick. Again. She asked him why he didn't just get Evelyn, and he smirked. "If you're gonna be on the battlefield when a demon could be crawling its way up my ass, I have to know you can take care of me." He looked her up and down. "So far, you haven't impressed me much."

She hissed and swung the stick at him without warning. He roared as it hit his stomach. "Much better!" After a few more hits, they settled down to more traditional sparring. His long reach was always a challenge for her, and her shield work sharpened considerably after their training sessions. He mostly gathered bruises and invented innuendos. Usually the innuendos came right before the bruises.

Twenty minutes in to the workout, they took a break. He nodded across the yard. "Who's the kid over there? Looks new."

Cassandra took a pull of water and turned. "Oh, yes. Dean something. He's a Fereldan noble who forgets his sword after he trains. I don't think he'll be around long."

"Hmmm." When she picked up her own sword again, Bull roared across the yard. "Dean something! Get over here. Bring your sword."

The man snapped his head around. When he saw who'd called, he threw an insolent salute and jogged over. "The Iron Bull himself. Nice yell you've got, I see where the name came from. And the Lady Seeker. Nice to see you again. Was there something you needed? Something fetched, polished or otherwise looked after in some way? I remain a humble servant of the Inquisition." He swept his arm back and bowed, the picture of subservience.

"Kid, my name definitely didn't come from my voice," said Iron Bull. "But I like your enthusiasm." He nodded to her. "She's got a technical flaw when she tries to guard low that's going to get her killed by anyone decent. I need you to fight her while I correct it, since you definitely won't be able to kill her."

"I do not!" she protested. "My technique is just fine."

"It pains me, but I must agree with the lady, your Bullness. She seems flawless to me." The recruit winked at her.

She seethed. No wonder they had a hard time getting women to the battlefield. Men were cads. She saw Evelyn and Cullen, sparring politely but intensely. Okay, maybe just the ones in this vicinity were cads. "On second thought, I would enjoy the opportunity to teach a new recruit a lasting lesson."

Bull took in her expression and swapped her sword out for a duller practice version. "Let's just keep the lesson a life one. Keep the shield. Okay, kid, swing at her a few times then come at her low across the side and stop when you hit her shield." Dean followed his directions, and she blocked each blow forcefully. She saw him wince at the vibration in his hand. She smiled. And then he came at her low. She pivoted and guarded.

"No!" said Bull. "Stop there. See where your feet are? See how you're not pointing them at your attacker? See how easily I can do this?" He plucked Dean's sword out of his hand and snaked it into a hole in her guard, right at a soft place in her armor. She colored slightly and shifted her feet into a better position. He handed the sword back to the recruit. "Good. Better. Again."

They went through the exercise several more times. She concentrated fiercely on her footwork and was relieved when it started to come instinctively. They finished with a longer, more natural fight, though the recruit still came at her low several times to force her to check herself. She held her own even with a sword that wasn't her own, and eventually he conceded to her. He wiped sweat out of his eyes. "Well fought. Impressive skill and grace. Now even more flawless than before." He grinned at her tiredly. "I can see why the Templars knuckled under so easily with you at their throats."

"Thank you. You have a lot of work ahead of you, but you are not hopeless." She pivoted to Bull. "Thank you for the instruction. I apologize for my arrogance."

As she walked away she heard Bull say behind her, "Good lesson for you too, kid. There's always something left to learn."

You should have seen it, dwarf. That kid practically charmed me out of my pants -

Not that that's hard.

True. But I brought him over when I saw him staring, he definitely wasn't looking for me. And she didn't even notice. We have to do something.

Why? If she's not interested what's the point?

You've seen how tense she is. When she gets tense, she asks you to write that crappy book again. Do you want to write that crappy book? Don't even get me started on how it gets out in the field with the tight-ass rule following. It would be one thing if she just wasn't into him, but she's so wound she didn't even know it was an option. Come on.

Fine. We're going to need to get the Inquisitor involved in this, though. She'll kill us if we don't.

Cassandra sighed and wondered why she was in a tavern instead of writing her reports. She stared at the blonde head dancing in front of her as it looked for a table. Oh right. Inquisitor's orders. She jumped when Evelyn grabbed her hand and yanked her forward. "Look, it's Bull and Varric! We can sit with them."

Despite herself, she perked up. She could pester Varric about the next installment of his book, at least. Not a total waste of a night. They drew closer, and she saw two additional people at the table. Krem, Bull's second, and that new recruit who'd seen her humiliation with her shield. She suppressed the urge to bolt.

Evelyn dragged a bench to the table and plopped down, dragging Cassandra with her. "Hey guys! What are we talking about tonight?"

"Mostly how many things Krem and Bull have killed, respectively," said Varric. "You'll be amazed, but they disagree on who has more."

The recruit leaned forward. "The argument hinges on if Bull should get extra points for each demon, since he's afraid of them. Bull says yes, Krem says if that's the metric then Bull has almost no kills, since nothing else scares him."

"Pointless and unsolvable. Sounds like a great time for a drink," said Evelyn. "By the way, I'm Evelyn. Are you new?"

"Yeah, he's Dean something, boss."

"Dean Bernier, actually. Fereldan, father is minor noble, et cetera. We've met before, Lady Trevelyan, though you won't remember. I was eight, and we danced briefly at a party in Ostwick for our parents. I believe it was a crude waltz. I now drink off of that story wherever I go." He ran a hand through his hair. "Best dance of my life. So far." He shot a grin at Cassandra, and she gritted her teeth and tried to smile politely.

"It must have been so transcendent that I forgot about it entirely," said Evelyn.

"That's understandable. I have that effect on most women. But I withdraw myself from the field, as my Commander would surely beat me soundly in any duel for your favor." He chuckled ruefully. "Your beautiful companion beat me with barely any effort just last week. Iron Bull can bear witness to the great shame I brought upon my father's house that afternoon."

Evelyn smiled. "Don't feel too bad. Cassandra beats Cullen nine times out of ten." She slapped the table. "Oh, speaking of Cullen, I forgot I have to check in with a mission he's running. I'll be right back. Actually, the Chargers are involved. Bull, Krem, will you come with me?"

They stood and left, leaving a vacuum of silence in their wake. Varric cleared his throat. "I need a refill. Can I get you something, Seeker?"

"No," she said, "I brought water, thank you." Varric shook his head sadly and walked towards the bar.

Dean looked at her incredulously. "You brought water to drink in a bar? In this bar? Doesn't that get you barred for life or something?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Maybe. I've never been in here before. Evelyn convinced me to try the atmosphere. You could tell the bartender and we'll find out."

He laughed, then. "Oh no. I think you're hoping you would be, and I have no intention of letting you escape so easily. If the Commander's extremely loud instruction has taught me anything these weeks, it's that you have to press home every advantage."

"I should imagine in conversations you always have the advantage. It seems to be a noble birthright. Both Evelyn and Dorian can never leave without the last word."

"But you're noble as well, Lady Pentaghast. Much nobler than my humble self. Surely you must have had the same training."

"In Nevarra, the only noble birthright is dragon hunting. And I am Seeker, when I'm here, not Lady Pentaghast," she said.

"I can't call you Seeker in a bar. It's uncivilized!" He looked scandalized but his eyes were warm with laughter.

"Varric managed it." She looked around. Where was the dwarf, anyway?

"Ah yes, but he and I have very different views on you, I think." He reached across the table and brushed her hand. She twitched it away and stood so quickly the bench rocked back.

"I think my friends may be some time. I have some reports waiting for me. Excuse my rudeness."

He stood as well, more serious. "My apologies, Seeker. I didn't mean to startle you. Please allow me to escort you to your quarters."

She raised her eyebrow. "They're only 20 yards away."

"Yes, but someone very reliable told me that even Skyhold could be dangerous at the wrong moment. I'd hate for you be accosted by fiends." He grinned again, ruining his studied, grave look. "Besides, no decent woman would leave a man to drink alone in a bar."

Cole, what are they saying? I can't hear from all the way up here.

He's not a spying device, Inquisitor.

Chuckles, why are you even here? I can't imagine that you care about any of this.

I don't. I came to make sure you wouldn't mistreat a spirit, which you are clearly attempting to do.

Wait, it looks like they're leaving. That's fast. Is that good? You humans are so confusing. The Qunari are a lot less modest about this stuff.

I know you'd like to see the Seeker enjoying herself with an ardent lover in front of all of us, but some of still have to sleep at night.

Oh come on, it would be a great story idea!

Some ideas should die before they hit the page.

Her heart beats a little faster, his eyes are warm like chocolate. He wants to take the long way back.

Now we're talking. Let's follow them.

They walked the battlements for reasons she still didn't understand. Something about learning how to patrol that made no sense, but he was very persuasive. Fortunately his mannerisms became less florid and his speeches less ingratiating once they were up in the chilly night air, and she relaxed a little into their conversation. They spoke of tactics, of life in the Inquisition, even of the other soldiers, though she noted with approval that he only told cheerful stories and didn't attempt to inform on them to her. Not that she didn't already know exactly who was trouble and who wasn't, but his discretion bespoke an intelligence that would serve him well. Intelligence she hadn't been sure he possessed, to be honest.

Eventually talk shifted to his own life in Fereldan, and he made her laugh with tales of his beleaguered father with too many sons. If they were all as spirited and irreverent as this one, she was amazed he hadn't packed them all away sooner. "It sounds like you could have used a sister. Several, probably."

"The Maker loves his children too much to ever do that to someone, I think. Even your strength may have faded in the face of our adventures. Or more likely, we'd have convinced you to take part." He looked at her. "Though I imagine you keep your own brothers in good order."

A flash of pain. "I had only one brother. He died."

"I'm sorry, Seeker. I didn't realize." She examined his face, looking for the amusement it always held, but he was truly serious. He was very handsome when he was serious, she noted. He must have seen something change in her eyes, and he reached up to run his finger down her cheek. "Is that where you got this scar?"

She didn't draw away but raised an eyebrow at him. "You do realize I am more than ten years your senior?" She tried to put enough bite in her voice that he knew she meant it, but enough humor that they would move away from sad topics.

He followed her lead easily and dropped his hand. "I would never presume to guess at a lady's age, but your maturity is certainly one of the most appealing things about you. Besides all the other things." His eyes sparkled, and she realized this might be an even more dangerous tone. She quickly reversed.

"My scar has no glorious story. I'm glad it's there. It lends me credibility. The Inquisition forces respect me now, but whenever I meet new fighters, especially men, it's always a trial to prove my skill over and over. It helps to look battle-hardened. But it had nothing to do with a fight." He looked at her expectantly, and she sighed and continued. "As a child, I snuck into the armory at the estate and took down a sword that was much too big for me. I wanted to fight dragons, and I knew my toy swords held no chance. I swung it around uncontrollably, lost my grip, and it sliced my cheek. I was lucky not to lose an eye. My father barred me from the sword room from that day on, but he also started me in training the next week. In a way, this scar is the price I paid to learn to make others bleed."

Dean laughed. "It's good to know your determination manifested young. Though I would never have expected you to be so reckless."

"My tendency to rush in without consideration is a constant trial to our Inquisitor. I don't like to wait for things." She chuckled.

He stepped closer, brown eyes full of humor. "I wouldn't necessarily call you a fast mover." He ran his fingers down her arm, and she didn't stop him. Her stomach fluttered. He said, softly, "I'm glad you told me the story of your scar, Lady, though I don't think it makes you look hardened. Without it, your beauty would be so perfect as to be terrifying, unapproachable. Now it makes you all the more beautiful for being human. Soft enough to touch. I have to admit I'm relieved." He leaned up and kissed her. His lips were warm in the cold night, and he wrapped both hands around her waist and pulled her to him. Her hands went to his shoulders, feather-light, and she deepened the kiss without thinking. He responded with force, and for a minute they were lost in each other.

At a clatter in the distance, they both sprang apart. A devilish smile flickered across his lips. "My apologies, Lady Seeker. I failed to look into the shadows for a minute there. Won't happen again."

She huffed a breath into the night and watched it float away. "Yes, well. We're not on duty, I suppose."

His smile widened. "But what pleasant duty it would be." He reached out his arm in noble escort and gestured toward the armory. "If I may escort you home, m'lady?" She looked at the arm like it was a giant spider, and he laughed and fell into step next to her.

When they reached the door he took her hand inside his. "I'm glad that this evening didn't turn into what I expected when Bull and Krem asked me to join them. It has been ever so much more interesting." He paused. "I leave tomorrow for a two week training patrol. I'd very much enjoy continuing our talk when I get back."

His hair danced a little in the winds of the courtyard, and she resisted the urge to smooth it down. She colored under his gaze. "Perhaps." But she kept her hand in place. "Be careful on patrol. Don't take it lightly. There are dangers in the mountains beyond wind and cold. And your sword work still needs a lot of improvement."

He gave her his cockiest grin. "Now that I know you're concerned for me, I'll wear it as armor so thick nothing will be able to take me down." He kissed her hand. "Until we meet again, Lady Seeker."

Wait, he's leaving Skyhold? Damn it, I knew you should have gotten Curly involved.

You've seen Cullen play cards. He can't keep a secret for anything. And if I asked him to alter his training program for no reason, he'd think I was insane.

Aren't we insane, though? This feels a little insane.

I know I feel cheated. I was just starting to enjoy myself when this clumsy Vint dropped his mug.

I'm the one who has horrible ale soaked into my trousers, Bull. Trust me, it's worse.

Uncertain, hesitating. Closing her heart. He's too young for trusting. Safer to stay inside herself.

Ugh, great. Why does she have to be so stoic warrior. Say, kid, can't you make her forget about all of that for a little bit? To help her?

Absolutely out of the question, Varric. He's a spirit of compassion, not a spirit of manipulation.

Fine, fine. Okay I have another idea, but you're going to have to trust me. And we're going to need Dorian and Sera and the Chargers. And a lot of swords. And some of that bandit armor we grabbed from the Sword Coast.

Two weeks passed both quickly and slowly. She found herself looking up each time hooves clattered over the bridge, then cursing herself for her own stupidity. He was a young, cocky noble who liked to flirt and found her an amusing challenge. She was old enough to know better than to think him serious. When he returned, he'd probably have moved on to some other target. Even if he hadn't, she would set him straight. She was not some conquest to be hunted, nor would she submit to being a lewd tale passed around the barracks. The warm lights of his eyes flashed in her mind. She'd try to do it gently, at least.

The morning of the patrol's scheduled return, not that she'd been paying attention, she went to the morning meeting. Cullen gave all the routine updates from around Thedas, then closed with Skyhold-specific business. "It seems that the training patrol we sent out ran into some trouble right before they returned. Some bandit activity in the mountain."

Her heart leapt into her throat. "Are they okay? Was anyone injured?"

The table glanced at her curiously. Usually she said less than nothing unless specifically questioned. Cullen shook his head. "No, they're all fine. Use of magic, but nothing the Templar escort couldn't handle. The bandits scattered quickly. No casualties." He frowned at the report in front of him. "They were certainly very strange bandits."

She barely heard him. She fought to school her face into polite interest.

"The men all returned last night and provided their report. We'll need to start warning our patrols to be on the lookout for any other activity in the area. Anything else? No? Meeting dismissed."

She headed back to the armory with a carefully calm stride. Inside her mind was tumbling. He could have been hurt, but he wasn't. He'd returned last night, but she hadn't seen him. He had moved on like she'd expected. She was glad. She was furious. She was confused. As she reached the door, she heaved a sigh and tried to find peace. With luck, her choice had been made for her, and all future heartbreak was spared.

When she stepped inside, she stopped. Dean sat on one of the tables chatting cheerfully with the armorers, feet swinging carelessly beneath him. His face lit up when he saw her, and he hopped down off the table. "Lady Seeker! I have returned at last from the war, slightly bloodied but still unbowed." He held out his hand, revealing a small slash across its back. "Tree branches are surprisingly treacherous."

She folded her arms. "I heard there was a bit more danger than some snow-covered trees in this training exercise, recruit."

The armorers, no fools, all made quick excuses to leave. She nodded to them. Dean waved good-bye and called them all by name, the bastard. When the door closed, he turned back to her still smiling. "Yes, there were a few miscreants, but we faced them down gloriously, and they turned tail like the cowards they were. The Inquisition remains a force to be reckoned with."

"It's no joke," she said, irritated. "They had mages. You could have been hurt."

He stepped towards her, smile fading. "I know. But I wasn't. Seeker, you've never seen me fight in earnest. I may be still learning, but I take it very seriously. I would never risk my well-being or the lives of those around me." He shifted on his feet. "But I don't want to take it with me off the field. I enjoy life too much. While your own unflappable demeanor makes you enormously appealing, I wouldn't wear it well."

She shook herself, remembering what she'd decided. "Yes, about that. You are young and handsome. You like to flirt and are clearly good at it. While I can't deny you're charming, I am not accustomed to these kinds of casual affairs. It would be best if you chose another target."

To her irritation, his expression only grew amused as she spoke. He made no move to leave. "I would never make the mistake of treating you casually in anything. Especially when you call me handsome." He reached behind him to the table. "Speaking of the bandits, they left me a gift. While most of their gear was poor, almost unusable, there was one sword of amazing quality. I'm amazed they left it behind. In fact, it almost seemed like one of the bandits threw it at my feet as they ran. A gift from the Maker, perhaps."

He held it out to her, and she took it despite herself. The workmanship was excellent, almost Inquisition-quality. "The lieutenant agreed I could keep it, but the balance doesn't fit me correctly. I think it would work well for you. I want you to have it."

She nearly dropped it. Only years of long training stopped her. As it swung in her hands, she felt how perfectly crafted to her it was. "I couldn't possibly accept this. It's worth far too much."

"What is gold compared to your life? Use it to make others bleed, so that your allies never scar." He brought himself closer to touch her cheek again. His eyes melted into hers as he smiled. "Cassandra, I do like to flirt with you. And I am young, though not so young as all that. But you've occupied my thoughts for weeks now, waking and sleeping. I don't claim love. We don't know each other well enough for it. But it's no casual affair I want with you."

She stepped past him to replace the sword on the table, then turned back. A hint of uncertainty flashed across his face, and she secretly triumphed that it could be there. She smiled in spite of herself, then pulled him to her and kissed him, wrapping her hands behind his head. He leaned against her and took her mouth eagerly. His hands whispered up and down her back, and she sighed a little into his mouth. He broke away to feather kisses up her cheek to her ear, nibbling enticingly. She arched back over the table and he gasped a little as her hips pressed against his. He looked at her face and asked a silent question.

"Let's go to the upstairs. I'm sure the armorers would like their room back." He grinned. He stepped back and gave a formal bow, and she picked up the sword again. She stopped short as they were climbing the stairs. "Wait, if I take your sword, what will you use?"

"Oh, don't worry, I still have my old one. It's safely with my gear. I never lose track of my sword. I brought my dagger with me, though, so I'm not unprotected." He tugged at her to get her moving again.

"Did I inspire this new conscientious attitude?"

He blushed a little. "Actually, I've always been that way with my weapons. But I couldn't figure out another way to introduce myself to you with no one else around." She stared at him in disbelief, then kissed him again. They stumbled up the last few steps in a tangle of limbs.

What's happening? Cole, can you get a sense of their moods? Did he give her the sword?

I never thought I'd see the day when you tried to exert control over a spirit. Welcome to the club, Chuckles.

I merely wish to know if we were successful in our efforts.

This kid is good, guys. I'm sure he's got it under control. He hasn't been thrown out yet, has he?

He'd better be good. Those Templar spells are still wreaking havoc with my magic. I can't believe I went to this much effort to get a handsome man in someone else's bed.

Don't complain. You're a romantic just the rest of us. I'm pretty sure Cullen's already figured us out, though. He asked me some pointed questions when he came to bed last night.

I told you we shouldn't have let Bull come. He's too obvious. How many bandit groups have a giant horned guy fighting with them?

Hey, I started this whole thing. No way I wasn't going to get to the good part. Scaring recruits is classic.

At least the sword turned out okay.

Oi you lot, I got the jars of bees. Now who are we throwing them at again? Are they in there?

No! I told you, this is not a bee mission. No bees are needed.

But they're all ready to go! I shook them up so they'd be really stingy, yeah? We can't just leave them sit now!

Dean stopped lavishing his attentions on her mouth and lifted himself on his forearms. "Do you hear screaming? Should we see what's wrong?"

She slid her hand down his bare chest and hummed a negative. "There are plenty of people on guard today. They'll sort it out. If they can't, they'll come find us." She moved her hand lower, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his pants, and watched his face.

He breathed heavily and closed his eyes. "But what if there are fiends in Skyhold?"

She pulled his head back down to hers. "I'm planning to just take care of the one on top of me, for now."