The Truth of Desire Ch. 03

"Scream my fucking name, bitch."

She didn't hesitate, feeling the throbbing rapidly overtake her. "Ty-Ty-Tyreeeelll!"

Damon's hoarse voice screeched as hard as it could when Tyrell picked up the pace again and rubbed his fingers over her clit in a blur. Her hips spasmed and thrust off the bed, even further than they already were given the mating press. From around Tyrell's rapidly thrusting cock spurted streams of liquid arousal the likes of which she'd only ever seen from Cassandra—and while being double penetrated at that. Tyrell ripped Damon's orgasm from her pussy like a brute, showering her entire front in her own cum.

It was then that she could no longer maintain eye contact and fell limp against the soaked bedsheets, desperately panting for breath. Breath that hitched when Tyrell began moving his hips again—hard.

"Nuh-wait—I'm still sensiti—"

Heedless, Tyrell plunged back inside her and let her legs down to plow her in missionary. Damon moaned and gasped and squealed like a stuck pig. Her oversensitivity, the same that had broken her will enough to admit she loved this bastard's cock, still existed in full. With every overstimulation, the pleasure Tyrell dragged out of her only increased, until she squirted all over him and herself. The second climax robbed Damon of what little remained of her senses. From there, only fragments remained in her memory.

Being bent over and fucked like a bitch. Pushed down and plowed into the pillows. Hoisted up and speared on him like a rider; she barely remembered moving her hips to grind on him. With every climax, he whispered in her ear words of ownership, cruel and soft.

"You're mine. This pussy is mine. I own you, slut."

When Damon was lightheaded and faint, Tyrell at last ceased his assault and let her sag against the sheets like a boned fish.

"Well done, pet," he whispered in her ear as he slid in next to her.

Tyrell pulled thick blankets over her shaking body and held it against the warmth of his own. Gentle strokes parted and carded through her shoulder-length raven hair.

"Very good," he whispered. "Rest now, for tomorrow you learn to control this new power."

Unwilling or simply unable to reply, Damon grunted and instinctively leaned into his warmth as the gravity of the day and everything that had happened forced her into a dreamless sleep.

...

Cassandra's earring had stopped vibrating mere minutes after Damon vanished with the Templar Knight-Commander. That had not allayed her suspicions in the least. Something about the energy between the two men had thrown her off—most especially how he let the Templar touch him. Still, if he hadn't used their codeword, there was no reason to jump to any conclusions. After a hearty dinner, Cass and the others had been ushered to their accommodations for the night, a small but cozy room with military bunks suitable enough for the trio.

Varric was the first to nod off, though even in sleep his hands never strayed far from Bianca. Sera, by contrast, seemed incapable of sleeping and insisted on endlessly sharpening her knives. Eventually, the constant grinding of the whetstone got on Cassandra's nerves and she told the elf to stop. Sera pouted but instead started polishing her bow. Cass rolled her eyes. If the elf preferred sleep deprivation, so be it. Though, she couldn't really blame her for being on edge. Cassandra tossed and turned for almost an hour before finally drifting off.

Suddenly, her eyes opened, dreadfully aware.

The bunks were gone—as were the walls, fireplace, and her two companions. Everything was fuzzy and muted and...endlessly empty, except for the ground where she stood. Cassandra frowned confusedly. She hadn't activated the Fade-strider, yet...

"Azarel?" she asked the empty void.

No one answered, yet the longer she stared into the Fade, the more her surroundings began to coalesce into something tangible. In her years, she had never once set foot inside the Circle Tower before its destruction, yet from the vivid descriptions Damon had given her, she recognized this place. It was the room of the Harrowing, a psychic journey every student takes before becoming a Circle Mage. Entering the Fade allowed them to literally face their demons, thereby proving themselves strong enough to defeat the darkness within—or that they were too weak to withstand temptation.

Damon's Harrowing had ended with a narrow pass and a Templar's blade at his throat, a scene she now, for some reason, saw unfolding. The figures, armored and robed, spoke to one another, though their words were muffled as if passing through water. The energy and tone were clear enough. Damon was shaking just slightly, hands in plain view, while Knight-Commander Gennair held the edge of her sword to his neck. Even the other Templars began pulling her back when it became clear he was still coherent. Except—

Wait, that was...a woman? Yet, there was no mistaking those prismatic violet eyes, or the set of those cheekbones. What was this vision? It was not quite a memory, clearly. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her and this was not a Fade-walk at all, but merely a strange, lucid dream.

But then, why was this feminine Damon staring right at her in confusion?

Damon tried to speak, but nothing came but more muffled speech.

"I don't understand," Cassandra said, waving to her ears.

She kept mouthing something, words muted though she cupped her hands around her mouth. At Cass's continued confusion, Damon pursed her lips in frustration, then mouthed something repeatedly.

It took a few times for Cass to get the message: find me.

The Seeker's eyes snapped open, feeling far more awake and no small bit alarmed. She looked around to see the others fast asleep, even Sera. Cassandra swept her legs to the side and pressed her palms to stinging eyes. Despite its bizarre nature, something about that "dream" had felt all too real.

Find me.

Cassandra was in gambeson and bracers in no time. She strapped on her sword and dagger, but left her shield behind. Walking around armed wouldn't raise much suspicion among the Templars, but carrying a shield meant she expected trouble. The Seeker briefly considered waking the others, then swiftly remembered how loud and rambunctious the other two were. She had a better chance of finding Damon and handling this quietly alone. Though, if Damon really was in trouble, this could get ugly quick.

Damn it all. Why hadn't she spoken up earlier?

He had as much as told her not to, but still. There was something off. Why hadn't he told her? She doubted the Templars would've denied them a moment to speak privately. Shaking her head, Cassandra looked for a Templar officer, someone who might've known how to reach the Knight-Commander in the middle of the night. Thanks to the dwarven engineering of this place, there were glowing stones and sconces providing warm lighting even this late. Within minutes, she found the Tranquil porter from earlier.

"Seeker," he greeted in the typical monotone. "What brings you here at this hour?"

She glanced around briefly. "I have an urgent matter to discuss with the Inquisitor, and he neglected to inform me where he would be occupied for the night."

The Tranquil blinked. "Ah. Knight-Commander Tyrell thought this might come up."

Tyrell?

Cassandra felt a chill pass through her.

"Please, come this way."

The porter walked off into one of the many stone passages. Cassandra focused on memorizing the route while keeping a weather eye out for traps. A million thoughts ran through her head at once, chief among them, "Why didn't he tell me?" It certainly explained the tension and Damon's lack of reaction at the man's physical invasion of space. But surely striking a deal with the same abuser would've been a dealbreaker. Right?

Cassandra followed the Tranquil to the Knight-Commander's office. He slid a key into the handle and ushered her inside. She took the room in quickly, noting the wide space and dimly lit desk.

"Commander Tyrell will be with you shortly."

Cassandra gave the porter a nod. She let her scowl show when the door closed and she was finally alone.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she growled softly.

Cass fingered the dagger on her belt. Slowly, her touch drifted lower, brushing the Fade-strider piercing. What was happening to her? Every sentient being entered the Fade when they dreamed, for that was what dreams were—manifestations of the Fade. Only mages could willingly enter the Fade will full faculties and power—and were inherently vulnerable to its influence. The mundane could only do the same with the assistance of a mage, and it must be very intentional. That vision, for she knew there was more to it than simple projection of her worry, was very much an unintended reaction.

Was the Fade-strider changing her somehow, or perhaps her time with Azarel? Or was this new "ability" dormant within every mundane and need only be unlocked?

She was pulled from her musings when the door opened, permitting the same tall Templar she'd seen in the mess hall. Contrary to earlier, he was in a loose-fitting night shirt and sloppily-tied leggings. Clearly he'd just been woken up, since there was still visible fog in his eyes.

"Commander Tyrell," she greeted coolly.

He seemed to pick up on her tone, since his eyes sharpened immediately. "Seeker," he returned. "What seems to be the issue?"

She glanced behind him. "I distinctly remember requesting the Inquisitor's presence, not yours. My concerns are for his ears only."

Cass saw the faintest twitch of his lips before he answered.

"Unfortunately," Tyrell said, "the Inquisitor is...indisposed at the moment. The testing he's been undergoing as part of our deal has been extremely taxing on his body."

Her eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

He went to his desk and shrugged. "Meaning as soon as the night's tasks were done, he passed clean out. Currently, Damon is sleeping in the lab. There's a living space set up there, since I anticipated this outcome."

"I want to see him."

Tyrell stared at a box on his desk, then looked up at her with a slightly pinched expression. "Are you certain?"

She didn't like his tone. "Commander, let's not be coy with each other." She strode up to the desk and braced her hands against it. "I know who you are. What you were to him. He told me the whole story."

Tyrell met her gaze evenly. "I see. Then I imagine you have some idea of what our 'deal' entails."

Cassandra stiffened. She had tried not to think too hard about it since she learned the commander's identity. Several emotions rushed through her at once, but she forced herself to focus in on resolution.

"That is none of my concern at the moment," she lied. "My first priority is ensuring the Inquisitor's safety."

He nodded and picked up the box he'd been eyeing. "Understood. Before we go anywhere, I need you to know: whatever you see, it was agreed upon through a mutually beneficial agreement. There was no coercion or blackmail involved, even with your Inquisitor."

Cassandra felt her heart lurch nervously but kept her face stony. "Lead the way."

Tyrell tucked the box under his arm and moved past her toward the door. He led her through the fortress, past several Templar sentries who saluted their commander as he passed. The path was not so easy to memorize this time, but the Seeker remained focused until they reached a large metal door rigged with dwarven machinery. Tyrell used a clockwork key hanging from his belt to open the door and waved her through. With each step, Cassandra felt herself getting colder, and not because they were proceeding further underground.

The shock of the room beyond the descending tunnel was enough to root her in place.

"What...the fuck is this?"

Cages upon cages of humans, elves, even a qunari—all stark naked save the furnishings needed for sleep.

"Research," Tyrell said very seriously.

Cassandra stared at him. "On what?!"

"Shhh," he put a finger to his lips and lowered his voice. "Let's not wake them, yeah?" Tyrell waved her forward, taking the lead through the chamber. "I'm researching the effects of the reproductive system on lyrium channels in the body, for both mages and Templars." He waved toward the cages. "These mages were all apostates and fugitives being hunted by Templars or qunari witch hunters. I gave them sanctuary in return for research data—and they all got a little nookie out of the deal." He smirked. "You'd be surprised how adventurous the qunari was once we got her out of her shell."

Cassandra glanced at the horned woman in question and saw her sleeping in a cuddle pile with two elves, male and female. The man was using one of her bared breasts as a pillow. She looked away, blushing slightly as she followed Tyrell into a roughly cube-shaped building built of stone and wood. The door was steel-reinforced and locked with the same mechanism as the one upstairs. As soon as Tyrell unlocked it, he began parting the door, though he hesitated a moment to look back at her.

"Try not to be too shocked at what you find; Damon is undergoing a sort of...transition at the moment."

Cassandra frowned and nodded.

He pushed the door open, permitting her inside. The first thing she noticed was the machines—an X-cross, a table with a pulley-driven machine, and a wooden block with numerous mechanisms attached. She froze halfway through the door when she put the pieces together from Damon's story.

"You rebuilt it?" she asked softly, feeling the urge to assault him rising by the second.

"Rebuilt what?"

"The choke horse," she growled.

Tyrell snorted and smirked. "So he told you about that too."

Cassandra violently stamped down the urge to draw her dagger at the smug look on his face. "Where is he?"

Tyrell nodded behind her.

She turned and stepped inside, slowly drawing closer to the large bed there and the form hidden just under the covers. Cassandra focused on softening her steps, not wanting to wake him just yet. Then she saw his hair, how long and flowy it was compared to just a few hours ago. Cass blinked and got closer, frowning hard when she started noticing even more differences: the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his neck, his lips. He almost looked like—

Her eyes widened and whipped back to Tyrell as she stomped over and grabbed him by the shirt. "What did you do to him?" she hissed.

He held his hands up and answered calmly. "I unlocked his potential—or should I say her potential?" A shrug. "Well, at the moment, anyway. I'm sure she'll be able to tell you more if you wake her."

Cassandra released him and stumbled back, looking at Damon's sleeping form. This was too much at once. Way too much to process. First he goes off and makes a deal (the specifics of which were still unclear, though she was starting to get the picture) with the man who tortured him for a week practically just after he'd turned of age. Then he gets himself experimented on by the same bastard and turned into a woman.

"How is this even possible?" she whispered.

"It's Damon's potential as a mage. Remember what I said about lyrium channels and reproduction?" Tyrell nodded to Damon. "I used his own fluids to increase his magic potential, then injected him with a refined dosage of white lyrium to stimulate growth of more channels in his body. In other words, his seed served as the, well, seed and the serum is creating roots and structure that will allow him to channel that power."

"To what end?"

Tyrell smiled. "I turned him into a shapeshifter, Seeker. Once he masters these abilities, he'll be able to mimic any sentient being—human, elf, qunari, dwarf. Male or female, old or young, he'll mimic them perfectly, so long as his knowledge of them is complete. With the Inquisition's information network, I don't expect that'll be a problem." He grinned. "I made him the perfect infiltrator and ambassador." Tyrell brandished the box he'd taken from his office. "In return for this."

Cassandra watched as he opened the box, revealing a large violet diamond, glowing faintly in the light of the surrounding glowstones. She recognized the material from her piercing. "That's the biggest Fade-strider I've ever seen."

"The biggest anyone's ever seen. The Chantry almost destroyed it out of fear, but I knew better." He closed the lid.

"So Damon agreed to this...experiment in return for that?"

"Well, he agreed to engage in testing," Tyrell admitted, "though I may not have told him all the details beforehand."

Cassandra glared at him. "So you tested an experimental serum on him—without his permission?!"

At her raised voice, Damon began to stir.

Tyrell stiffened, as did Damon as soon as he—as she saw Cassandra standing there with her tormentor.

Damon stared at her, and she back. Pervasive red filled Damon's face as she scrambled for something to say.

"Hi," she finally decided on, voice coming out high and delicate. Damon bit her lip. "I...would say this isn't what it looks like, but...I'd be lying. And I never lie to you."

Cassandra stared back at her. "You don't always tell the whole truth, either."

Damon winced and looked away.

Cass stood there in silence, frustration, anger, and relief all warring within her. For how weird this was, Damon looked okay for the most part. "We have a long talk ahead of us, Inquisitor."

Damon gulped and nodded.

"But first—" Cass sharply turned to Tyrell. "What were you thinking, experimenting on him?"

Tyrell held his hands up and took a half-step back. "I didn't think he would go for it if I explained ev1erything, but I would never have tested it on him if I thought for a second that it would do any harm."

"Harm?" Damon scoffed. "Like you care."

Tyrell stared at her. "Of course I care. I've never once pushed you beyond your limits, only your comfort zone."

"But that should and must be his choice," Cass growled.

"It was!"

"Today, maybe."

Tyrell stared at her, then slowly shifted his gaze to Damon. "Is that what this is about? The Tower?" He pursed his lips, silent a while. "You could've said no. You could've stopped it at any time."

Damon stared at him, derision quickly turning to fury as she climbed from the bed, buck naked. Cass's head turned on pure instinct, drinking in this new body, lithe and petite and soft. An intrusive thought passed through her head, of how comfortable it would be snuggling with this Damon. The anger on her face quickly snapped Cass back to reality.

"Could've said no?" Damon demanded. "Could've said no?!" Her voice rose to a scream. "I did! Over and over and over! I begged you to slow down, to give me just a moment's peace!"

Cass and Tyrell stared at her, at the glow growing in her violet eyes, at the way her face and shoulders began to shift.

"You broke me, Tyrell!" Her voice was getting deeper, harder. "You wore me down for days, relentless, and you fucking broke me! None of that was my choice, no matter how much—" A moment of hesitation and shame as those faintly glowing eyes glanced to Cass. "No matter how much I might've enjoyed it." That violet gaze returned to Tyrell. "You turned me into a toy, an object." A derisive laugh, arms spread wide. "And apparently now I'm just a clay doll for you to start molding and swapping out parts!"

They were both staring at Damon in shock, though not at the anger of this outburst.

"Damon," Cass whispered, "your body..."

Damon looked between them, then down. Lo and behold, his dick and original form had returned sometime during his furious rant.

"You did it," Tyrell said in awe. "I didn't expect you to get hold of it so quickly." He smiled. "But then I've always had faith in your abilities...all of them."