Writer’s Block : Varric and Cassandra
A/N : Another fic for the weary hearts. Or for all of you guys. (slight Trevelyan x Cullen pairing)
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"YOU want me to do what?"
"Try it out, Seeker. It might land you a couple of friends here and there. Or, maybe not."
Varric stood before a disgruntled Cassandra. Wearing a sour expression, she closed the book that she held out of anger. It was the book that Varric had given to her a few days back, giving the sneak peek to his worst romance serial as a peace offering from their previous feud with one another. She then became not so much of a bother later on, spending every spare time the hour to read the new chapters of the released book. It amused and satisfied him when he basically observed Cassandra devouring the the book, page after page of endless words and sentences that deemed quite useless to him now, yet meant everything to Cassandra.
Cassandra stood up from the stool she sat on, walking towards Varric in a menacing manner.
"Varric, I appreciate you writing down the sequel for me, as per request from the Inquisitor, but to do such--" Cassandra waved her hands about, obviously baffled. "Such inappropriate actions! What kind of woman do you take me for?"
"Look, I know it sounds weird. Heck, even I'm weirded out, but I'm doing us a favor here."
Cassandra's eyebrow rose in confusion. "The both of us?"
Varric nodded. "The both of us."
Cassandra pauses for a moment, her thinking-process expression showing. After a few contemplations, she said, "You are... quite positive of this? That it will possibly remove you from your writer's block?"
"Have I ever lied to you, Seeker?"
Cassandra glared daggers at him. "As a matter of fact,--"
"Forget that thought. But yes, to answer your question, I am positive that it will work out."
She hesitates. After another few seconds of deep contemplation, she gave out a frustrated sigh.
"Tell me everything I need to do before I disagree and cut you down."
"Will do, Seeker."
-----
She moves the other pieces, her face scrunched in disgust as the last one lands into one of Orlais' landmarks.
"Ugh, Orlesians."
Cullen snickers, crossing off a task written on his papers. "I find it endearing that you're slowly getting sick of their affairs, Trevel-- Inquisitor." The small error immediately earned Cullen smug looks from Leliana and Josephine, to which Trevelyan either ignored or did not notice.
"As if that had to be pointed out." She pinpoints the several pieces scattered around Orlais. "Parties, political unrest, a new duchess getting throned or de-throned, written contracts, what more does Orlais have to offer for us to do?"
"Parties with political unrest, with a duchess getting throned or de-throned, accompanied with written contracts. Bonus points for assassins."
"Ah, of course. Remember the Winter Palace?"
"Don't remind me. The headache I've gained during our time there was incomparable to the headache I've been receiving for weeks."
"It's that bad?"
"Very."
Trevelyan places her hand on her chin, deep in thought. She moves one of the other pieces again, but as she places it on top of a landmark located in Ferelden, the door opens. The sudden interruption caused Trevelyan to squeak out a yelp, immediately letting go of the piece she held. The piece rolled until it, unfortunately, landed onto another Orlais landmark. Josephine sighed, mumbling about her encounter with the Orlesians in said landmark. She muttered something under her breath about six packs of cheese wheels with assassins wearing scandalous and preposterous attires, as chosen poorly by their leader. Vivienne and Dorian cringed at the sight, as they proceeded to go to the nearest clothing store to breathe clean air once more.
"Inquisitor." The heavy-accented voice boomed within the War Room, which silenced all three advisors, including Trevelyan. The advisors, whose directions were facing towards the door, looked at the Nevarran with shock. Trevelyan, however, was faced towards the advisors, with the table in between them. The way she called out to her just now was electrifying in a way Trevelyan couldn't explain. She could only rack inside her head if she had done anything to provoke Cassandra for her to storm all the way down here to the war room.
"Ye-Yes, Cassandra...?" Trevelyan slowly turned around, scared that she might have done something wrong. Again. When was the last time the Inquisitor hadn't done something wrong?
There were the pots. The training dummies, and the horses getting loose. Most of it was Cole's ideas, and I wanted to help him help people. In a way.
As Trevelyan's eyes landed on Cassandra's, the first thing she noticed was the lace sitting on top of her head. And then the frilly dress she wore. It was outrageously covered in pink. Trevelyan could have sworn that Cullen cringed, backing one foot away from the war table. Josephine stood, frozen, not believing her eyes. Leliana, however, stared at Cassandra with delightful amusement, but her interest piqued to almost a maximum when she spotted the shoes that Cassandra wore.
"Are those shoes made from Orlais? Val Chevin?" Leliana commented, moving towards Cassandra with a frightful speed, her gaze still not breaking away from the pair of shoes. Cassandra stood her ground, but it was evident from the look on her face that she was positively horrified at Leliana's sudden curiosity.
"I, um, yes. It is."
"Is this... the same pair of shoes that were delivered here to the Inquisition's storages, as request from an anonymous sender?" Josephine added.
Cassandra shamefully nodded, which would mean that she was the anonymous sender.
"Inquisitor, would you care for a poem?" Cassandra said, her teeth grinding. Trevelyan could tell that she didn't want to do this, but it only deepened her confusion she was doing this. On her own accord. Trevelyan looks at her advisors, who gave her a concerning and sympathetic look.
"Um. Sure?"
"
Herald of Andraste
You are the nicest compadre
My heart swoons over your heroic deeds
How shall you fare, when I tell you of my sinful seeds?
(Cullen : What?)
(Leliana : *tries not to snort, but a small smile escapes* Shush. Let her speak.) (Josephine : I certainly do not know what is going on.)
Might you fancy a cup of tea with me,
Or will a bloody, sweaty, and heart-racing battle satisfy thee?
You may not look that nice on a nutcracker wannabe vest,
But you'd look great and ravishing, on Cullen's sturdy desk.
(Cullen : *suddenly choking on air, grasping and reaching for the war table's edges. The pieces that Trevelyan worked so hard on to place have now been ruined and rolled over to either side of the map.*)
You use your hand to close these rifts,
But would you like for a spin, on a summer's day feast?
(Trevelyan : Yes.)
Orlesians give us much of a headache,
But you'd be fine with the pain anyway
Not when our commander perfectly handles the situation at bay.
(Cullen : Andraste be my guide, preserve my soul.)
Now, I must conclude this short-lengthed poem
(Cullen : *heaves out a sigh of relief* Thank the Maker.)
(Leliana and Josephine : *lets out a huff of slight disappointment*)
With you managing the troops, the council, and the nation, your time will not be stolen
Adieu, Inquisitor
May you strive for a more higher position.
"
Cassandra did a graceful yet forced bow, her head dipping really low onto the ground. Trevelyan noticed Cassandra's ears going red from sheer embarrassment, and felt her regret just from standing a few feet away. The last time Trevelyan ever did anything horrendous or as embarrassing was when she tried to do the "Orlesian Dip" with Cullen. It did not go well for them, resulting to Cullen having to lock himself away inside his office, just because he was that ashamed of himself.
With the swift movement of a Seeker, she bolted right out of the room in a blaze, her shoes producing a loud clack, clack, clack upon the floor. After her figure has gone out of sight, a messenger appears right out of the blue, scaring Cullen.
"Ser, sister Leliana's report--"
"Yes, I'm aware of that." Culen snatches the report away fro the scout, giving him a frustrated look. The scout places his fist against his armored chest, and walks away.
"Maker, I swear that messenger has been stalking my movements for how long."
Leliana chuckles.
"Especially right outside your office?"
"What--" Cullen stops, suddenly remembering his momentary talk with Trevelyan during that time, which the scout had rudely disrupted. He blushes, his hand now placed on the side of his neck in a sheepish manner.
"I--You--Thatiscompletelynotinyourlineofwork, Leliana."
"Oh, but it is. I know everything. Mostly everything."
"Even the--" Cullen stammered for a bit, when went near Leliana. "Even the thing we did...?"
"The "Orlesian Dip"? Yes." Leliana smirks at Cullen. "It'll be alright, Cullen. If it brings you some small reassurance, both of you lacked the skills to perform such a feat--"
"Okay. I've heard enough." Cullen stated, his face now flushing, as he slowly makes his way to exit out of the war room. Trevelyan looked at Leliana with much more horror, stepping back for only a few inches.
"I still have no idea what just happened." Josephine stated.
--------
"I will kill you, Varric." Cassandra said, as amshe finally wore into her other pair of boots, tightening the grip around the legs to prevent from becoming anymore loose.
Varric sat upon a wooden chair, his eyes focused onto the paper he held, scribbling away the words that kept popping inside his head. Ever since Cassandra started her 'performance', Varric had already occupied and written three papers. He was on his sisxteenth page now.
He chuckled, still writing down his thoughts. "You did a pretty solid role, Seeker. I swear I could have applauded for you once you were finished right after, but then they'd spot me and it'd ruin my writing-process."
Cassandra opened her mouth to fight back, but closed it. She sighed heavily, dumping the frilly, pink dress somewhere nearby.
"You are certain that the trilogy will be released very soon?"
Varric smirked.
"I'll let you cut my head off if this doesn't come out in stores in a matter of weeks, Cassandra."
