A one shot for @crashed-down-in-a-hurricane, as part of our art trade. I loved writing this! The next one will be for her Frey Mahariel.
Word Count: 2,397
Read on AO3, or continue below.
Cassandra did not budge as the stout shelf rattled on its feet when Cullen’s gauntleted fist smashed against its side. “He is a heathen!” the former templar bellowed, assisted by the myriad of droplets that dotted the woman’s face. She did not bother to clean herself. Her answer was contained, silence during the storm, marred only by her traditional stern Nevarran accent. “He bears the Mark. We have no choice.”
“This is not what I signed up for, Pentaghast. Maker’s breath, in one instant we are following the Divine’s orders, and I am working with her Hands – I can deal with it. I left the Templars, you left the Seekers, we are going to reform them. We are going to go after our lost sheep, slay the wolves among them.” For a moment, it seemed Cullen had been able to regain control of himself, as he leaned against the shelf he had just assaulted, and pinched the bridge of his nose. But soon his voice boiled up and his temper flared up again. “Bring the goddam Chantry back on its feet! But now,” and there he was, barging once more, increasingly closer to Cassandra’s unmoving face. “We are following the lead of a tree-hugging pagan!” The Commander could not believe as not even Cassandra’s brows moved. His eyes widened in desperation, he brought both his hands to his head and, in a swift movement, turned and kicked a chair against the walls of the improvised war room in Haven’s Chantry. He turned again to Cassandra as quickly as he had kicked the chair and pointed at his own face with all his ten fingers, his spit finally hitting the woman straight in the eye and forcing her to wipe it clean. “He has a demon symbol tattooed on his face! All over his face! I tried to turn a blind eye, ignore him like we have ignored the bald mage elf, but he is making the Inquisition be a Dalish thing! He goes, leads our scouts, speaks in our name, and… Pentaghast! I saw children putting that demon symbol on their faces with mud! We cannot have that face be the face of the Inquisition! The Most Holy…”
Cassandra’s disgusted noise finally put a stop to Cullen’s shouts. She pierced him with dark eyes and temperance, and the storming man halted, moved his chin to speak, but didn’t. He took a step back, let his shoulders fall, and looked away. “You will watch as you address the most Holy, Commander. You will respect her memory. And you will understand that it is not our place to question the Herald of Andraste.”
Cullen had both his hands on his hips, and although he avoided Cassandra’s gaze, he would not accept it. “He is not the Herald of Andraste. He. is. Not!”
“I am the Herald of your Andraste”, Adrius Lavellan said, opening the door with the calm that Cullen lacked, and carrying a smirk full of a mirth stranger to both humans. “And her message is: Commander Cullen, there is a stick shoved deep up your ass. Remove it, and use it to help Adrius close the rifts. You know, the thing that must be done? And please, wash it. The demons don’t deserve to suffer the stench of your… deep recesses.”
Cassandra quickly interposed herself between Adrius and the poucing man. Adrius laughed his nervousness in a careless headshake, and reminded himself, silently, not to poke a lion with such a short stick. Much shorter than the one the Commander had up his ass, his mind quickly reminded him, which caused a snigger than angered Cullen even more.
“You see him mock our Lady like this and won’t do anything?” Cullen pushed through in between his teeth. His anger, fanned by Adrius jokes, now focused also on Cassandra, who braved it by standing strong. Adrius, on the other hand, preferred to let the current carry him, with idle steps, to the safer end of the room on the other side of the war table. The young elf took a deep breath and ran a hand through his short, straight hair.
“Seriously, man. Chill. I am not the Herald of Andraste, and I am elvhen. An elvhen will close the rifts. One of the people will save the world. Again. From the mess you...” and by you, his hands moved in wide arcs all around him, “...you… You all… You know? Created. If you don’t want to help, Cullen, we have a saying: the door to the street is on the house.” A brief moment of silence ensued as both Cassandra and Cullen blinked at Adrius, who chuckled, and shrugged. “Just kidding. We don’t have streets. Or doors. Or houses. Anyway, if you won’t help, Cullen, leave.”
“No.” Cassandra intervened again, stern and contained, before the thunder could leave Cullen’s lungs. “The Commander won’t leave. He is part of the Inquisition, as much as you are, Herald.”
“I thought you were at my side, Seeker. You know… He is pretty mean.”
“I am not on anybody’s side. My role is to establish the Inquisition. And Cullen is part of it.” She took a deep breath in, and approached Adrius with a somber countenance that had him on edge. He couldn’t remember seeing Cassandra this way, so judgemental. With the look determined people have when a bad idea grows roots on their minds. Her anger at the prison, back at the Conclave, hadn’t seemed so threatening. “It is as hard for me as it is for our Commander to accept you as part of the Inquisition, Lavellan. You must understand. You pray to wrong gods. And yet, our Prophet sent you to us. And I will always accept a humility lesson, gladly.”
Adrius remained in silence, penned between the peaceful menacing woman and the walls, and feeling like he would have more chances of bursting through the latter. His nervousness showed clearly, and it fed Cullen’s smirk.
“I am simply better at shouting to the inside before I do it the outside. It is a lesson I learned a long time ago. And that most people still need to learn. But you are a pagan with a mandate to save the faithful. And while I accept that with an obedient heart… My mind wonders. Wonders if this is not… maybe… Circumstance? Magic has scarred the world many a time. And in most of them, it did not involve the Maker, or our Lady.”
Cullen took a deep triumphal breath and crossed his arms. There was a reason he admired this woman so much, and it showed now. He wondered why the Inquisition needed a different leader, when it was clear who Andraste had actually sent to lead them. Adrius eyes widened, and he finally leaned against the wall. Damn thing wouldn’t move!
“So I think there is a way to know if Andraste sent you.”
“Elgar’nan, I’m so screwed.”
“There is no way in which you would survive combat with Cullen. If you are the Herald of Andraste - somehow you will. If you are not…”
“Then I die?!”
“I will break the combat before that. The rules will be…”
Adrius squealed as Cassandra was shoved aside and Cullen smashed the lithe elf against the wall with a steel pauldron blow to a soft, exposed sternum. What little air was left on his lungs was expelled when Cullen rammed him flat on his back on top of the war table, and all those little pieces certainly punctured him in a few places. Cassandra tried to yell to Cullen that it was not fair, that Adrius was wearing just pants, a shirt and a fur cloak, while Cullen was in full armor. All the former Templar did to appease the objections of the other human was to unbuckle his sword belt before calmly putting a knee on each side of a stunned Adrius and starting laying punch after punch on the elf’s face. It didn’t take many hits of the steeled massive hands to burst the skin open. The blood splattered over the Fereldan map as if marking another Dalish hero’s path.
But the map crumbled when Adrius slid under Cullen’s leg leaving only his cloak to received the last few blows. While the elf got back to his trembling feet, and without being sure of he was actually doing, he slammed his palms on Cullen’s ears, flat and open, one on each side, at the same time. Classic anti-shem blow, you can’t do that to elves! Adrius slipped and fell of the table, and Cullen did the same, thrown off-balance with ringing ears which made the room swirl.
Adrius was quick on his feet first, and sprung to kick Cullen square in the gut. But he hit chainmail instead, and saw himself spin on his own axis, propelled by the twist Cullen gave on his aching foot. Cullen was still disoriented, which didn’t prevent him from trying and climbing over Adrius. The elf did not forgive: blow after blow landed on the Commander’s face, eachs stronger than the previous, but to no avail. Other than making Cullen’s nose and lips bleed, the towering human kept advancing, slithering over Adrius body, and weathering the punches with gritted teeth and a devious smile. Mythal’enaste, Cullen was actually enjoying it. The fucking bastard was actually enjoying it! Even though right now, with the anger, Adrius was putting everything he had in his punches, swinging with all his strength, and Cullen’s chin wouldn’t break. The Commander was clearly stunned, and could barely keep himself straight, but he didn’t even try to block Adrius’ blows. The elf decided is was time to try and overturn things, when the finally felt Cullen’s hand on his long ears.
And then he felt the blood spreading under his scalp, soaking his thin hair, and a high pitched noise muffle something Leliana was saying, blocked by Cassandra, who did not allow the Left Hand to interfere. He felt the grip on his ears again, and once more the sharp thud made everything spin silently.
Adrius was trying understand the blurred waves in front of him, and make sense of where he was, and the names of the colors. That man, Frey, he had met once. He was the Hero of Ferelden. How did he do so people wouldn’t say he was the Hero of Andraste? Andraste must have been a bad woman. Why sticking her nose where she didn’t belong? Maybe if Adrius had told people he was a Grey Warden? Then we would be able to… To wield the sword of mercy. Cassandra would be shoved to one side, Leliana to the other, and…
Adrius let out a shout of rage and rolled to the side before Cullen’s sword could pierce his neck. And with a roar he stretched his left hand, grabbed Cullen’s face, and felt his soul run like uphill water to the small breach in his palm. The mark flared and crackled, and Cullen cried in agony, bending backwards, arching as a bug on fire, as Adrius got to his knees, and then up, and then bent over Cullen, pressing the human’s face against the rock floor.
On his peripheral vision, Cassandra moved. Adrius turned to her, his hand shooting green bolts randomly across the room, and with the right hand, he grabbed the sword Cullen had dropped.
“Wait!” Adrius shouted, the anger still rumbling on the back of his throat. Cassandra stopped, and unsheathed her own sword. Her narrowed dark eyes scrutinized the elf deeply, and they softened when she saw a smile on Adrius thin lips. At his feet, Cullen was still arching his back in pain, gritting his teeth as he tried to recompose himself. And behind Adrius, Leliana stopped when he touched the tip of the sword in Cullen’s head. Blood dripped from his nose, his brow, and the wound behind his head. It competed with the fading green that shone from Adriu’s left hand.
“Don’t you try --” Leliana started. But she stopped talking when Adrius tipped his head a bit to the side. And spoke louder.
“Shsshhh! Let me speak!
Cassandra and Leliana were ready to try and do something. Cullen was back in control of himself, and surprisingly, not a single mark dotted his face other than the blows of Adrius’ fists had left there. The Commander tried to move, but found the tip of his own sword pressed against his neck.”
“The gods have spoken!” Adrius started, looking around to the other humans. “I have bested you in combat, Curly of Honnleath”.
“You used magic!” Cullen growled, at which Cassandra was quick: “And you had armor, and you reached for your sword, Commander”.
Adrius pointed the index finger of his now calm left hand at Cassandra, and smiled. Elgar’nan, he was in pain. His head throbbed, and he could feel his left cheekbone swell to the point he could almost not see through that eye. But he was almost done. At least all his teeth were still in place, and he was able to talk.
Adrius touched Cullen’s right shoulder with the sword. And then the left one. It looked like the human raised a questioning brow. The sword then touched Cullen’s forehead. “I know pronounce you, knight of the elf. You may kiss the bride!”
Leliana chuckled instantly and broke into heartly laughter. Cassandra suppressed hers, and Cullen stood wide-eyed on the floor, as much as he could with the beating his face had taken, and watched aghast as Adrius limped away from the war room. His adam’s apple moved up and down intensely, working as hard as it could to swallow the broken pride.
Cassandra touched Adrius’ shoulder as he passed by her “Go see Minaeve. She that she can find you some healing.”
“I do need some healing. The Commander gave me a hell of a beating. Maybe we could go see her together, Cullen?”
The man still stood flabbergasted for some seconds, but finally got up, rejecting the help Leliana offered. “Maker’s breath. Let’s go, my lord.”
Adrius shook his head at that, and removed a war table piece that stuck on his side.
