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Regan had been in her office for days trying to prepare to go before the court at Halamshiral. Alienage life hadn’t exactly prepared her to be on the glamorous end of one of these events and minutia of the Game had her head spinning.
How am I supposed to get through this without Leliana whispering in my ear the whole time? People will take one look at me and assume I’m supposed to take their coat. Maybe we can bring Sera so at least one person is more clueless than I am. Wait. No. Can’t risk a “diplomatic incident.”
Realizing she hadn’t left the room in days, Regan grabbed her cloak and made her way towards the battlements.
The Inquisitor let out a cough as the air shocked her lungs. I really have been inside too long. The fresh air was almost too pure after dense, smoky air and the smell of musty reports. She hadn’t sat still that long since… well, ever, and the walking felt good on her stiff legs. As she walks, Regan comes across someone else, a guard she presumes, leaning on the wall and looking up.
Stopping a few feet before the guard, Regan leans on the battlements and asks, “Enjoying the stars?”
The cloaked individual looks down immediately and starts stammering “I…uh…you…I wasn’t…”
Regan’s face lights up immediately. “Oh! Cassandra! I wasn’t expecting you here.”
Cassandra looks away. “I was just passing by on my way…” she goes to gesture to the other end of the battlements, realizing she’s gesturing towards the Inquisitor’s quarters. “Sometimes I like to look at the stars,” she mutters.
Regan pulls back her hood. “That isn’t something to be embarrassed about, Cassandra.”
“It just seems so silly. We have so much to do. There are a dozen other things I could be doing right now. Instead? I look at the sky.”
An coy grin creeps onto her face “What, Cassandra? What could you possibly be doing?”
“Well. My sword needs sharpening. I need to practice my parries. I have letters to write. There are a few things I need to find in the library. My socks…”
“And you’re going to do that now that it’s after midnight?”
Cassandra sighs. “No. I suppose you are right.” She reaches up and pulls back her hood. “Maker, what I wouldn’t give to be able to sleep. Just for a night.” Cassandra let out a sigh.
Regan looked up at her. “I could help, if you want…”
Cassandra jumped back. “No!”
Embarrassed, Regan turned back out over the edge. “Sorry.”
“No, I… I know you are only looking to help.
“It’s’ alright. It was silly of me to ask. I should’ve known you wouldn’t want me to.”
Reaching out to touch the smaller woman on the shoulder, “Really. I overreacted. It’s just… No one has used magic on me in a long time.” Suddenly Cassandra becomes very aware of where her hand is and withdraws it, looking back out over the battlements.
A moment. Regan is still reeling from the sensation of Cassandra’s hand on her arm. She flicks a pebble off the wall.
“So… would you mind coming with me to Halamshiral?”
A snort. “Herald. Do I really have a choice?”
“I know the Game isn’t your thing but I’m absolutely clueless. I’m worried I’ll greet someone wrong or say something impolite. Plus I’m a fucking elf. I need someone there who will keep track of how many times I am asked to refill a drink.”
Cassandra lets out a short laugh think of the confused looks the nobility will give to an elf this important. The smile quickly grew hard as her mind wandered to the cruel words they would undoubtedly utter behind the Inquisitor’s back.
“If you would like to call upon my shallow well of noble knowledge, I am more than happy to offer myself to your service.”
Regan breathed a sigh of relief. She knew Cassandra was not quick to admit her royal blood but Regan was immensely grateful she had. Not much spooked her but the thought a lot of powerful humans in one place set her on edge. Too many bad memories. She would need some sort of backup once she got to the ball.
“In that case… would you help me pick out a dress?”
Cassandra scoffed. “You want me to give you advice on a gown? Why not Leliana or Josephine? I’m sure they’d be overjoyed and much more helpful.”
“Believe me. They have tried to help. Leliana wants me in shoes with ribbons that I can’t even walk in. Josephine has a great affinity for ruffles and bright colors. I understand that I need to look appropriate but I also want to be able to move in case anything bad happens. Which it always does.”
“I can’t argue there. Alright, Herald. I will come take a look. I wasn’t going to sleep anyway.” She realized the Inquisitor had said nothing about doing so tonight. But, despite her protestations she was… looking forward to it? Something about being around the other woman set her mind at ease. Doing nothing but dwelling on everything that had gone wrong night after night was taking a toll.
As she turns to walk back towards her quarters, an enormous grin blooms across the Inquisitor’s face. She hadn’t meant tonight, but she was in no way opposed to the idea. The idea of being alone with Cassandra in her quarters sent a shiver down her spine. She had cherished the time they had together, but it was always in the middle of the courtyard or somewhere in harm’s way. Being able to listen to her speak without distractions for more than five minutes…
Regan. You’re a grown fucking woman. Pull it together. She wants to be here. Just don’t say anything stupid…
but Andastre’s tits she’s beautiful.
“Sorry about the mess,” muttered the Inquisitor as she opened the door. She hadn’t exactly planned on having anyone over. The only people who ever saw her room were Josephine and Leliana when reports “simply could not wait” and they had grown accustomed to her preference to have her quarters look… lived in.
“You need not apologize. You have better things to worry about.”
Regan breathed an internal style of relief. She knew how particular Cassandra was and how immaculate her own living area was. If she was put off, she didn’t show it.
“Well. The dresses are… Some are on the bed. I have a few hanging over here…” Regan flitted about, collecting the enormous gowns of silk and velvet.
Cassandra looked around at the books and scrolls on every conceivable surface, the clothes all over the bed. The Inquisitor had clearly not intended on going to sleep tonight. Or, likely, any time before the ball.
She wants to make conversation. She doesn’t know what to say. Somehow, she went from reviling this woman to revering her. The Herald of Andraste. The title doesn’t seem far fetched. This woman. This woman who started out in an alienage, who had lived as an apostate, was now undeniably noble and fair and just. And she’s up in arms over a ball. The scum of the Orlesian court doesn’t deserve her concern. I have to make sure she’s safe. I won’t let them tear her apart. Not her…
“Cassandra?”
Cassandra was still standing in the doorway, lost in thought. She jolts a bit, her eyes refocusing on the smaller woman.
“Could you lace me up?” Regan requested, gaze directed at Cassandra’s feet.
“Oh,” she cleared her throat. “Yes. Of course.”
The Inquisitor had chosen a dark green gown that looked stunning against her pale skin. While the dress was certainly beautiful, Cassandra could not take her eyes off of the long strip of skin exposed from the Inquisitor’s neck to her lower back. For a mage, an elven mage at that, she was remarkably well muscled. Her back looked carved out of alabaster.
Cassandra, focus. Laces.
“So,” the Inquisitor broke the silence. “What do you think? Could I fit daggers up these sleeves?”
Cassandra had to laugh. “Daggers? You’re a mage. Why would you need daggers?”
She shrugged. “It’s a formal event. I can’t very well bring a staff.” Regan turned her head and gave Cassandra a half smile. “Besides I was trained to dual wield long before anyone taught me how to shoot ice from my hands. Magic would’ve stood out too much and I had defend myself… so. Yeah. Honestly, sometimes I want to push Cole aside when we’re out. That boy is going to get himself killed one day if he isn’t lighter on his feet.”
“I… didn’t know that about you.” Cassandra hadn’t stopped to think that this powerful woman before her had once been a scared child who had to look after herself.
“Not many people do nowadays.” She shrugged. “Anyway. Daggers? Yea or nay?”
Cassandra finished tying the last loop. “Turn around.”
Regan turned to face her. She looked stunning. Cassandra had never seen her in anything other than rugged mage’s robes. And yet, she somehow looked stronger now. Like she was rising to fill the gown. The gold trim around the low neckline set off flecks of gold in the Inquisitor’s honey colored eyes.
She didn’t need my help after all.
Bracing herself against the rush of heat in her stomach, Cassandra swallowed. “Raise your hands above your head.”
As Regan raised her hands, the belled sleeves fell down around her elbows.
“You could put a small knife in there, but if you have to raise your arms, people can see right in. And I cannot guarantee what the current Orlesian dance moves will entail.”
“Oh.” Regan looked genuinely discouraged. “I had kind of grown attached to the idea.”
“Not so fast. Everyone there will be armed with something. It is just impolite to show it. How do you feel about attaching something to your thigh?”
Regan’s face lit up. She walked back towards the pile of clothes on the bed and pulls out a connected series of velvet straps. “Is that what this is for? It was with the stuff Leliana brought.”
Cassandra smirked. “Leave it to Leliana to give you a velvet holster. That should do it.”
Regan was already on the bed, skirts pulled up around her waist. “Can you help me attach it? I’m guessing I was supposed to do that before I put the dress on.”
Cassandra felt heat rising to her cheeks. “Yes, Inquisitor,” Cassandra murmured, suddenly very self conscious. Maker, why do I feel like this? It’s just another woman. Stop being foolish and help your friend. It’s nothing.”
“You know you don’t have to call me that.”
Beginning to attach the holster, Cassandra clears her throat and apologizes, “I’m sorry, my lady.”
Exasperated, Regan groans “Cassandra. You can call me by my name.”
Cassandra stops tying and looks down for a moment. She wouldn’t let herself say that name out loud. Or in her head. Because then it’s real. She’s not just an icon she admires. She’s a person with a name whom she has very real feelings for. And. And she can’t.
Regan leans over and touches Cassandra’s shoulder. “Cassandra? I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just want you to be comfortable around me. Call me whatever you want. If that’s Herald or Inquisitor or pointy ears or…”
Cassandra looks her dead in the eye and cuts her off. “Regan.”
The Inquisitor stops talking and takes a deep breath. Cassandra reaches her hand to cup the side of Regan’s face. She takes a moment to appreciate how easily it fits in her palm. How right it feels. “Regan,” Cassandra whispers as she kisses her. And there is silence. For the first time since the breach there is nothing but what is in front of her. All that matters is is the delicate lips on hers, the soft skin under her rough hands. The kiss exists outside of time.
Regan wants more. Wants to be closer. She pulls Cassandra up towards her until they are both on top of the pile of dresses. Normally she’d fear the spymaster’s wrath for wrinkling the clothes, but nothing could be further from her mind right now than the ball. She grasps at the neck of Cassandra’s cloak, undoing it. She wants to feel her skin. Needs to feel her skin on her skin. Cassandra pulls off her shirt and is back on top of her, kissing her neck, her collar bone. Anything she can reach.
“Stand up and I can untie your dress,” Cassandra breathes into Regan’s dress.
Her face breaks into an impish grin. “There will be others. Just get it off me.”
Cassandra smiles as she grabs ahold at each shoulder “As you wish, Inquisitor.”
The dress rips down the front and Regan slides her arms out until she is bare from the waist up.
“Better,” Regan says as she pulls Cassandra on top of her, digging her hands into her sculpted back. She maneuvers a thigh between Cassandra’s legs, applying as much pressure against her covered clit as possible. Cassandra lets out a moan and reaches down, underneath Regan’s many skirts and finds her impossibly wet.
Cassandra gently slips a finger in. “Can I…?”
Regan looks up, desperate. “Please.”
She starts with one finger, pressing forward ever so slightly. As Regan opens up, she adds another, beginning to find some sort of rhythm with it, pulsing her fingers forward in a way that makes the smaller woman thrash from side to side. A third. Regan is grabbing her hand, holding her tight against her, pushing her in.
“I want more. Cass. Please. I need you. I need you inside of me.”
Cassandra is hesitant to oblige, terrified of breaking her. But she begs. She needs it. So she adds a fourth finger and penetrates her deep. She didn’t think she could go that far. She wants to know every inch. Inside and out. As her hand is deep within her, Cassandra holds her close with her free arm. She doesn’t want her to slip away. She wants her to be safe.
Regan kisses her only to break it off with a loud cry and a violent shudder. Cassandra stays inside until the contractions, stop. Gently, finger by finger, she slides out. She looks so calm. She pushes Regan’s damp hair out of her face and kisses her on the forehead.
“Thank you.”
Regan opens her eyes. “Thank me?”
“I’d been… I have wanted to do that for a while.”
She stopped her urge to cut in and ask why, in the name of the Maker, she hadn’t said anything or responded to any of her advances. No. Now is not the time. Just enjoy it, Regan. The world is in chaos. Don’t make things any more confusing. So instead she smiled and kissed her.
Regan began to stand up on the bed and wriggling. Cassandra looked up at her. “What are…?”
“I’m trying to get this thing off.”
Cassandra sat up, grabbed the tattered edges of the dress and pulled. It split half like paper. Regan sat down in the rags that were once her gown. “I have to start training with you.”
Raising an eyebrow, Cassadra teased, “Do you think you can keep up?”
In a moment, Cassandra was pinned to the bed, a smirking elf on top of her. “I think I’ll be fine.”
Regan went to work undoing Cassandra’s pants. When she was completely undressed, Regan ran her hands over the strong muscled body in front of her. She left small kisses all the way down Cassandra’s torso, stopping to toy with each nipple with her tongue. Watching Cassandra shudder with pleasure was ecstasy. When she finally got to the downy black hair she stopped and looked up. “Do you want me to…”
Cassandra reached towards Regan’s face and brushed her cheekbone with her thumb.
“Yes.”
Regan went slowly. Ever so slowly. Starting with long, slow licks around the entirety of Cassandra’s pussy, moving gradually inward. She drank in the sweet taste, reveling in it. It was finally happening. She had thought about this moment for so long and couldn’t believe it was here. At last, she pulls the hood back, revealing her clit. Barely brushing it at first with her tongue, she increases the pressure as Cassandra’s whole body responds, writhing, moaning, opening to her. Cassandra rests her hands so lightly on the sides of Regan’s heads. Not pushing even for a moment. Just a reminder that she’s there with her.
When at last she comes, her body is wracked with convulsions. Regan keeps her tongue just perched on Cass’s clit, one hand firmly on her lower back, the other interlaced with Cassandra’s outreached hand, guiding her through the waves. With one final stroke of the tongue, Regan elicits a small laugh from Cassandra. The sound is unlike anything she has ever heard from the other woman. It is light and earnest and… happy. Regan can’t help but crack a grin as she climbs up beside Cassandra.
She looks at Cassandra’s face for a moment, relaxed and content. Devoid of the usual tension.
“Any thoughts?”
Cassandra puts her her arm around Regan and pulls her close.
“For once, no. And it’s amazing.”
—-
Leliana opened the Inquisitor’s door in the morning, arms full of potential shoes. She begins to survey the mess with a sigh. At least the Inquisitor isn’t still at her desk. When she sees the situation on the bed, she stifles a giggle and swiftly turns around and leaves. After a moment of internal cheering that her Right Hand had finally unwound herself, her only thought is for the poor, wrinkled gowns and how she was going to explain their sad state to the tailor.