Chapter Text
“You are so beautiful,” said Trev. There was something in her tone that was reverent and wistful all at once.
Cassandra touched the gorget at her throat self-consciously. “I feel like a silly chicken wearing swan’s feathers.”
“Oh, no,” said Trev, who was smiling now. “You are magnificent. I knew that this would be perfect for you.”
They were dressing in their finery for the Satinalia feast. The cooks of Vérité had been working for days, and since Cassandra and Trev had arrived the day before they had redoubled their efforts. “She is too thin!” the head cook had said of Trev, outraged. “Both of you are!” And it was true. Though the Inquisitor had gained quite a bit of weight in the time it took them to get back to the keep, she still had a lean, honed look to her that was not entirely comfortable.
Cassandra grunted dismissively, embarrassed. But in truth she knew perfectly well that the gorget suited her. In truth she had chosen to wear the burgundy jerkin, the embroidered shirt that was so dark a purple as to be almost black except when the light caught the fine weave and the golden thread of the embroidery on cuffs and high collar, because she had known perfectly well that they would set the gorget off beautifully—and she knew that Trev knew it.
She knew that she was impressive; she knew that she was handsome. She was not used to having the word beautiful applied to her. Trev called her beautiful, of course, and meant it, but Trev was biased.
It was not often that she felt beautiful.
“And you are not just beautiful,” said Trev, getting to her feet and advancing with a predatory air. “You are quite astonishingly desirable.”
And now she knew she was blushing. “You are a terrible woman.”
“Yes, I am,” said Trev, “and I plan to make it very clear exactly how I feel about you,” and put her hand on the back of Cassandra’s neck and kissed her, long and leisurely.
“I am sorry that I have only last year’s gift for you,” she said softly when she lifted her mouth from Cassandra’s. “I feel like you’ve been cheated.”
“I do not feel cheated,” said Cassandra, who was feeling distinctly flushed and more than a little distracted. “And I had only last year’s gift for you, as well.”
“But it came with interest,” said Trev, grinning, “I think that the kittens probably count as a gift for this year, don’t you think?”
“They have been claimed by the children,” said Cassandra. “You will have a fight on your hands if you wish to recover them.” In her absence Carlyle had preemptively given one kitten to each of the youngest apprentices and one each to herself and Castor, and if anyone had disagreed with her actions they had not had the courage to object, which did not surprise Cassandra in the least.
“No,” said Trev. “I will leave them be; they are settled and happy. Handful is enough, and more.” She walked to the bed, where the little cat was curled up, and sat down beside her and stroked her, her face softening. Handful looked up, purring. They had had to fight to cuddle together on the previous night; she might be small but Handful was stubborn when it came to claiming space between them. Now that they were back she seemed determined to have at least one of them in her sight at all times, and preferably both within reach.
It had been a slow trip back to Vérité, especially at the beginning. Trev had been very weak at first, and it was not easy for her to travel. But they had not been so far from Stone Bear Hold, in the end; she was able to ride, and Storvacker led them there on narrow trails. Cassandra had for the most part walked at her stirrup, partly for fear of Trev falling and partly because she could not bear to be further away.
They had stayed in the Hold as welcome guests for almost a month while Trev built up her strength. During that time Cassandra had hunted with the Avaar, and conversed about many things with Svarah; Trev had rested and tried to recover herself. When she could she worked intensively on cleaning and restoring the condition of the artificial arm, which had needed a great deal of attention. It would have been logical to return to Denerim, so that Dagna could have a go at it, but she made it clear that this was not an option. “I want to go home,” she said.
It had been difficult for her. She was emotional and reactive, and at first her grasp on the border between dreams and waking was tenuous. She reacted with easy anger if Cassandra fussed over her, but at the same time she seemed to want the Seeker close enough to touch, to keep one hand on her, as if she was a talisman of solid reality. The pushing and pulling was confusing and sometimes infuriating, and Cassandra did not know how to respond to it. But always the echo in her mind said, Hold on.
In the end Trev had spent much of her time with the Augur. Cassandra, always uneasy about the Avaar’s relationship to the spirits that were their gods, was not sure what to think about this and did not want to enquire too closely. She knew that her training prejudiced her against Avaar customs, and that she could not set aside the distress that their practices caused her; they were dangerous, they were wrong. A demon had almost taken Trev from her, and there was not so much difference between a demon and a spirit. But there was Cole as an example to set against that belief; she tried to hold to that. And she also knew that if the Augur could help Trev, she would forgive him a great deal, and that this was Trev’s choice. She must let her walk the path she chose. And Trev was doing better. She still had nightmares sometimes, but not every night, and now they were nightmares and nothing more.
Trev had known perfectly well how she felt, and although she talked of what she was doing, she had spoken only in reassuring generalities. But after the first week, she had said, “I may not have the Mark any more, but it seems that its legacy has left me a little more open to the Fade than most people are. I am learning how to protect myself.” Cassandra found things that she did not know were tense beginning to relax a little. And indeed, over the weeks they spent at the hold Trev seemed to become far more settled in her skin, in herself.
After they left Stone Bear Hold they hurried; winter was coming and the snows high in the mountains already made it difficult for the horses. Cassandra was uncertain whether they could make it back before the roads to Vérité closed entirely, and pushed as hard as she dared. Trev seemed content for the most part to let her set the pace, though if she tired too much she could become sullen and stubborn about moving.
Trev’s moods were still unpredictable; she was sometimes cheerful and lighthearted and open, and sometimes moody and morose. Sometimes she looked out at the world with pleasure and sometimes she turned entirely inwards and there was nothing but bleakness in her eyes.
But it was better than it had been. When she had first left Vérité there had been something, some unspecified discontent, some unhappiness or pain, that was no longer there. Cassandra was not sure if it was the time she had spent travelling or the time spent with the Augur, but she seemed a little more settled. If she was still unhappy—and sometimes she clearly was—she seemed at least to have begun to find some kind of understanding and accommodation of it.
In Nevarra City they stopped overnight with Vestalus, who greeted Trev with warmth and considerable relief. That seemed to lighten Trev’s mood significantly, and the effects lasted for some time. The horses Cassandra had left with her uncle were in good condition and ready to travel, so now they could change mounts regularly and keep their speed up. Cassius had been as efficient as ever, and when they left they were well provisioned. They were lucky, and the weather favoured them. And so they were able to make good time on the last leg of their journey, and finally came to Vérité in the vanguard of a bad storm. Cassandra thought she had rarely been as thankful as when they had passed all snow-crusted through the gate in the new walls of the keep.
Dorian had sent word to their friends, assuring them that all was well, but there would need to be letters written, long ones, now that they had returned to Vérité. And there was a great deal to catch up on; life had not stopped while Cassandra was away. She would need to have meetings with Clarence and Carlyle, and soon. The latter had already found her, and made it clear that she had a great deal to talk about, and a number of questions and complaints saved up. “Emery couldn’t answer them all,” she had said very seriously and firmly. “Or wouldn’t. I’m not sure which. But I expect you will.”
But that was for tomorrow. Today was Satinalia, and in a very little while the feast would begin.
Trev did not look as if she was in a celebratory mood. She still had a smile on her face as she stroked Handful, but it was a small one.
“You seem melancholy,” said Cassandra tentatively. Trev glanced up.
“No, no. I am just thinking.” Cassandra looked at her without saying anything, and she sighed. “Ha. You know me too well.” She put out her hand, and Cassandra went to her and sat beside her on the bed.
Trev’s hand was warm in Cassandra’s, calloused and strong. “I don’t know what to say,” she said finally.
Cassandra squeezed her fingers. “Whatever it is, you know that I will hear you.”
“You will, won’t you? It’s just that I don’t understand it myself, so I can’t think how to explain.” She sighed and was silent again.
“It has been over a year,” she said finally. “I left to find out who I am now, and I still don’t know, after a year. I fell prey to a demon and spent far more time than is healthy in the Fade, and I don’t quite know how or why. I’ve done foolish things. I’ve done harm to others, and I can’t blame that on the demon. And after all of it I—” She stopped.
“I’m still not right,” she said finally. Then, as Cassandra opened her mouth, “It’s not as bad as it was. But it wasn’t all the demon. I’m not quite right. I’m not sure if I ever will be. Parts of me are—” She stopped again and gave a crooked grin.
“You are yourself,” said Cassandra firmly. “And I love you.”
Trev looked at her, and Cassandra thought for a moment that she was going to weep; but in the end she did not, though her fingers had tightened on her lover’s. “Yes,” she said finally, a breath only half audible, and then seemed to gather herself together. “I don’t think,” she said, “that it will always be easy for me. And that means it won’t always be easy for you. And I’m not the same person I was when we…” She trailed off.
“You are yourself,” Cassandra repeated, “whether or not you are the same, whether or not it is difficult. And I love you. We will manage.”
Trev shut her eyes, and Cassandra listened to the sound of her breathing, the sound of her living, felt the warmth of her fingers. We will manage, my love.
After a little Trev opened her eyes again and said, “I love you. Whatever I am now, however I am, wherever I am, I love you, beyond all sense, all borders. I hope that you understand just how much, because I don’t think I can put it into words.”
“Yes,” said Cassandra, and Trev let out a breath and finally gave her a kind of smile.
“I’m still not sure of what I am,” she said ruefully. “I seem to be a collection of people I don’t understand. I’m still your lover. But I’m not really the Inquisitor, and I don’t seem to be anything else in particular. Heroes who go a-questing are supposed to achieve something, aren’t they? But it was all meaningless. I don’t know how to understand that.”
“You are still yourself,” Cassandra repeated.
“But it made no difference to anything. I make no difference. Even as a lowly mercenary I made more of a difference than I do now.” She gave a crooked grin. “All right, it was not always a good difference, but I did try.”
Cassandra lifted Trev’s hand and kissed it. “That is not true. You do make a difference. You are not seeing what is in front of you.”
“You can look me in the eyes and tell me that all of the things I did as a mercenary made a good difference?” said Trev derisively, but she did not pull her hand away.
“That is not what I meant, and you know it.”
Trev snorted.
“Trev, if you had not been there I would not have found the courage to approach my uncle. And had I not done that, I would not have written to him, or gone to him when you were not there. I am not certain that I can say that we are reconciled, but I—I think it is a beginning. I would not even have had a beginning without you.”
Trev looked down. “It would have happened. It would just have taken longer.”
“No,” said Cassandra. “I do not believe that it would have happened, because it was easier for it not to happen. I had been thinking about our relationship, yours and mine, and then I thought of my relationship with him, and how it had gone wrong. Things have gone wrong between us, but we have always found our way back to each other, because we have tried to understand each other. With Vestalus I had never tried. It was realizing that—” She stopped for a moment, then said, “When we were in Nevarra City and I told you what had passed between us, you did not try to defend him, or tell me that I was foolish or wrong-headed in holding a child’s grudge against him, though it was clearly true. Neither did you condemn him for the sake of my grudge when you met him; you treated him with great courtesy. But you came with me, you stood with me, and I knew that your love was mine no matter what happened, whether I was right or wrong in my feelings towards him, and that gave me strength. You tipped that balance.”
“That—” Trev stopped.
“That is what lovers do? Yes, some. But not always so honestly. And you tip the balance for others, without even noticing. Do you think that Carlyle would be here if you had not seen something in her, and told me? Do you think that Petros would have a new leg, a good leg, had you not spoken to Dagna? That others would not have the same benefits of the arm she made for you and the leg she made for him because you asked?”
“But—”
“You stood for the elves in Kirkwall against the young nobles. It caused trouble, yes, but it also made a difference for those elves; now they are better protected. In Antiva you helped Alvar’s family find peace, in Denerim you helped those who were cheated by the merchant, you helped evict the nobles who claimed its use from the Market. These are all little things, but they are not small things to those you helped.”
Trev was staring at her, frowning. “Do you keep lists of my activities in your head?”
“I love you and pay attention,” said Cassandra tartly. “Trev, you make choices and take actions every day. Some of your choices change lives. You are still the person you were; you only work with different tools. The scale is smaller, perhaps so small you do not notice it, but it is not small to those you help.”
Trev gave her a smile without much humour in it. “I suppose that it is arrogant to want to do more.”
“It is arrogant to think you do nothing.”
Trev blinked. “You can still surprise me with your honesty,” she said at last.
“Ugh,”said Cassandra. “I do not try to surprise you. I do not know how to do anything else.”
“Yes,” said Trev slowly. “You are yourself, and it is what you are. You always will be. You hold fast to the truth, no matter what.” She took a deep breath and stood. “Come. We’d better get to the feast before the best things are gone. And before the blueberry tarts disappear,” she said wickedly.
Cassandra frowned. “It is out of season for blueberry tarts.”
“Not if the cooks put some berries aside in the ice cellar specially,” said Trev cheerfully. “But I was not supposed to tell you, so you must promise to be surprised. Come on!”
* * *
Late that night, after the festivities were over, after the feast was only a memory and the tarts only a purple stain on fingers and the drink a lingering warmth, after the rituals and songs and laughter, after all the foolishness and the good wishes shared even between enemies, Cassandra and Trev lay in the great bed and made love.
She is truly here, thought Cassandra, as Trev’s lips traced a line along her breastbone with the utmost and most maddeningly concentrated attention to detail. I do not think she will leave again. Not for a time, at least, and if she does leave she will come back. I know this now. But it is true what she said: she is not as she was. Not everything has been fixed, and it will be hard for her. It will be hard for me as well, sometimes. Trev’s tongue moved on her, exploring very delicately, almost tentatively, and she shivered. But it is better. And while she is here, I think that she will really be here.
She forgot about thinking then, until Trev pulled back for a little and said, “You clearly have not had so many tarts that you are entirely insensible and lethargic, despite telling me that you felt like a gartersnake that mistakenly swallowed a goat. You are wiggling far too much.”
“That is your fault,” said Cassandra, a little breathlessly. “And you know it perfectly well.”
“It’s an excellent way to work off a meal,” said Trev happily, “so it’s my duty. And I’m always happy to do my duty and oblige when required.” And then she turned her careful attention to the softest part of Cassandra’s thigh, and Cassandra’s mind went somewhere else entirely.
Later, as they lay wrapped together, Cassandra listened to her lover’s even breathing—almost but not quite a snore—and thought, Not everything that is broken can be fixed. But not everything that is broken needs to be fixed in order to be worth something. We learn to make do, and find ways to use what we have, to hold on what is good, to defend ourselves from the things that would do us harm. And then perhaps we realize that what we have is not so broken after all.
We watch for the paths that open to us, and try to choose the best one. We do the best we can. We love. It is enough.