wonderstruck
Pairing: Brenna Lavellan x Cremisius 'Krem' Acclasi
Word Count: 3239
Listening Suggestion: Enchanting - Taylor Swift
Synopsis: in which Krem meets Lavellan, but does not put two and two together
Warnings: Very brief description of battle
Crossposted: Here on AO3
Haven was bloody cold.
He had dressed for winter, and yet the cold was finding a way to seep into his bones. He could usually handle the weather, if he was fighting or travelling, keeping his blood pumping. But he had been stood outside of the Haven Chantry for what had felt like an age, having arrived on horseback a little past dawn, trying to find someone of authority to speak to. But he had either been brushed off or straight up ignored.
Perhaps they had assumed he was there to make trouble; couldn’t be too careful when you were part of an organisation that some considered heretical.
Either that or the entire Inquisition were not morning people.
“Are you alright, soldier?”
He turned to see an elven woman behind him, dressed in the traditional furs and leathers of a Dalish hunter, with vallaslin on her face to confirm his assumption. Her grey eyes met his, and even in the low light of morning, he was struck by how they shone like silver.
Her eyebrows rose a little, as though hinting that she was waiting on a response, and he realised that he had been staring for beat of a moment too long.
“Oh I-” he cleared his throat, straightening up his posture, remembering why he was here, “I’ve been trying to find someone to speak to. My name is Lieutenant Cremisius Aclassi, I represent a mercenary company looking to aid the Inquisition.”
A soft smile passed over her face, “I believe most of the leadership is in a meeting presently, but I’d be happy to pass on a message if you can give me the details.”
He began to explain about the Chargers, answering her questions about their credentials, Bull’s leadership style, even their cost, relaxing the more he went on. Selling the Chargers was second nature, their work spoke for itself, and she asked the right questions of a prospective client. She wrote down no details, but he had no doubt in his mind that she would remember everything he said. She listened with rapt attention, grey eyes watching him intently as he spoke.
She was a beautiful young woman, her elven figure shorter than his own, muscles clearly toned from use of the bow she carried, but a subtle femininity to her that softened her edges, her dark hair long and braided off of her face, a few wildflowers twisted into it. He noticed a few scars scattered across her skin, some older, some much fresher; signs of more recent battle wounds. Whatever her role was within the Inquisition, she was clearly no stranger to a fight.
Once he had finished his pitch, she nodded him towards the centre of the village where people had begun to queue up for breakfast, “It seems you’ve had a long journey, lieutenant. Take a rest by the fire, get something to eat. I’ll pass along a message to those in charge and come find you once they have reached a decision.”
“Thank you. What about you?”
“What about me?” her eyebrows raised a little.
He glanced towards the porridge that was now being ladled out to those waiting and back to her, “Won’t you miss breakfast if you await their outcome?”
She let out a soft breath, a look of surprise in her expression, “I’ve already eaten, I’ve not quite acclimatised to human cooking as yet. But you’re very sweet to worry.”
He laughed a little at that, mostly to cover the warmth in his cheeks as she called him sweet, “Very well then.”
“I’ll be back soon.”
He watched her go as she headed back inside the Chantry, an odd stirring settling into his chest. He shook his head to himself and turned to go find some food, now was not the time to be thinking with anything other than his stomach or his head.
~*~*~
It was a short while later that she returned, finding him having finished his breakfast and wandered further into the village to investigate more about the Inquisition that he had found himself determined to work for. He had heard about the work they were doing, knew in his heart that the Chargers could be of assistance, and seeing it in person only strengthened his resolve.
“Lieutenant!” she called to him, joining him where he was watching some of the soldiers training, “How was breakfast?”
“Not the worst porridge I’ve eaten by a long shot,” he admitted, “But it’s a far cry from a Dalish recipe.”
“You know Dalish cooking?”
“A member of our company was born into a Dalish clan, she’s made us a few things she remembers from her childhood when it’s her turn to cook.”
“Your group truly is full of surprises,” she said with a smile before she straightened up her form a little, as though remembering why she was actually there, “The Herald apologises for not coming to meet you in person, but she said she would be happy to meet your group. Business will take her to the Storm Coast in the next few days.”
He nodded, “That’s good to hear.”
“Will you be staying to travel there with the Herald?”
“I should be heading back as soon as possible, let the Chief know to expect the Herald, make sure he hasn’t gotten himself into too much trouble whilst I’ve been gone.”
“That’s understandable, though the Herald asked me to let you know that if you require any supplies to ensure that you had them.”
“A most generous offer, though I think I’ll be okay. I brought plenty of provisions for the return trip.”
“Well, there is one thing for you to take with you. See to your horse and I’ll find you before you go.”
They parted once again, and true to her word, she returned as he was leading his mount from the stable, who had been fed and watered without want for any gold in exchange. The horsemaster had simply told him that the Inquisition looked after their own.
“Here,” she said, handing a bundle out to him, “For the road.”
He took it from her, feeling the warmth of the contents through the linen wrapping. He pulled on the string holding it together, the sweet smell wafting from within. Inside were half a dozen sweet buns, covered with a sticky glaze.
“Honey cakes,” she clarified, “They just finished cooking.”
“They smell incredible. What’s in these?”
“Well, the trick is-” she met his eyes, a grin spreading across her face, “If things work out between your boss and the Herald, I’ll tell you the secret ingredient when you come back to Haven.”
He gave a nod and a soft laugh, “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I wish you safe travels, Lieutenant.”
“Thank you, for everything… my apologies, I never got your name.”
“No, you didn’t. Something else I’ll tell you when you come back to Haven.”
He chuckled, “Very well.” He took her gloved hand, and her form stiffened for a brief moment before he brushed a kiss against the leather on the back on her hand, “Until we meet again.”
He noted the flush in her cheeks before she returned his warm smile, “Until we meet again.”
~*~*~
“Krem, is that a pack of baked goods?”
He had been back with the Chargers for less than an hour, finally taking a well-earned rest from his journey to enjoy one of the honey cakes away from the main part of their campsite, having no intention of sharing this gift with them, until a familiar horned shadow had loomed over him.
“Sure is, Chief,” he responded.
“Did you swing into the city on the way here? Where did you get those?”
“Haven.”
“You found cakes in Haven?”
“I didn’t steal them, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Well I’ve never seen you buy them either, so what’s...” he glanced at his lieutenant’s face, and the subtle hint of the flush in his cheeks, “Someone gave them to you. The question is if they’re as sweet on you as you are on them.”
Krem didn’t even bother to hide his growing smile at that point, “She was just being kind, but she was...”
“Yeah?”
“Possibly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
“Atta’ boy,” Bull clapped a hand to his back, taking a seat beside him, “So, c’mon, tell me about her.”
“She was elven, Dalish by the look of her tattoos and that hunting gear they wear-”
“The tight leather wraps, I’m familiar,” he nodded.
“She was the first person to actually stop and speak to me. I told her about the Chargers, she said she’d make sure the Herald got the message. She came and found me again before I could leave, said the Herald would love to come meet us and she gave me these for the road. She made them herself.”
“Well, damn. Even if things don’t work out with the Herald, we should swing by Haven when we’re next out that way.”
“We don’t-”
“Hey, it’s not every day my right-hand man meets an enchanting woman that captures his heart. Now, finish those up before Skinner spots them and tries to shiv you for them.”
He snorted a laugh, the warmth in his cheeks at the thought of meeting that young woman again still making itself known, “Yes, Chief.”
~*~*~
The fight had been a bloody disaster from the start.
They had been tracking the Tevinter mages along the coastline since his return from Haven, but one wrong move had left them fenced in; the sea on one side, a cliff face on the other, encroaching waves of Venatori, all whilst trying to fight on a pebble beach in a thunderstorm.
His heavy armour didn’t fare well against the salt spray of the seawater, nor the loose stone underfoot, breathing heavily under his helm as he knocked down mage after mage with his hammer, trying to hold the line to protect their ranged fighters.
Somewhere to the side of him he could hear Bull’s familiar battle roar as he cut down another Venatori, followed by a string of curses as another group of mages appeared on the periphery.
There was a hum of magic cast over them, a wavering barrier, and he gave a call of thanks to Dalish, who didn’t even give the obligatory protest of not being a mage, but warned that she couldn’t keep this up much longer.
They were all near spent, he could see it in the way Grim’s shoulder sagged under the weight of his shield as he blocked an incoming spell, or how Skinner’s usually deadly blows had grown sloppy, desperate.
Bull gave a bellowing call of encouragement to them all, receiving an exhausted but determined, “Horns up!” in response from his company.
They could do this. They had gotten out of worse fights than this. They could-
His foot slid out from under him as the pebbles shifted, distracting him for a split second long enough that he didn’t defend against the spell coming his way, knocking him clean on his back, head ringing as he hit the ground hard, vision swimming from the pain and the rain now thundering into his face through the slit in his visor.
Eyes silver like starlight. White wildflowers stark against dark hair. The warmth of freshly baked goods. He didn’t know her name yet.
With a groan of pain, he hauled himself to his feet, hefting his hammer onto his shoulder, tensing himself to bring it crashing down into the sternum of the approaching mage. Yet before he could make his move, an arrow whistled past his ear, sinking into the jugular of the ‘vint, felling him in a single shot.
He turned, looking to thank one of Skinner’s skirmishers, but instead saw a figure sliding down the cliff face towards them, bow in hand, firing another arrow as they went, taking down another approaching soldier. He lifted the visor of his helm, wiping the rain from his eyes and saw the elven woman from Haven approaching him.
“Nice hammer, lieutenant,” she flashed him a smile then ran past him, throwing herself into the fray firing arrow after arrow.
Other members of the Inquisition soon joined them, having taken a more stable route down the cliff face; an elven mage, the Seeker and a man in the armour of a Grey Warden. It was more than enough to tip the fight in their favour, finishing off the final Venatori on the beach.
As he allowed himself a few breaths to recover, he couldn’t help but admire the elven rogue, watching her move gracefully across the battlefield, light enough on her feet that the pebbles barely shifted under her movements, unperturbed by the storm that raged around them; a true Dalish hunter.
Hells, if nothing else worked out with the Inquisition, she would make an incredible addition to the Chargers.
He set to his post-battle routine, checking on the others, ensuring the throat-cutters were getting to work at the Chief’s orders, though he kept half an eye on the group from the Inquisition as they began talking to Bull. He saw him beginning to talk to the elven woman alone and he felt a knot in his stomach.
He trusted Bull with his life, but the thought of him saying anything at all untoward her in an attempt to aid his love life had him wandering over, determined to interrupt so that he could make sure that Bull finalised their contract with no damned distractions.
“The, uh, the throat-cutters are all done, Chief,” he said as he approached, “Stitches is looking after the wounded.”
Bull looked between him and the elf, and he could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin.
“I assume you remember my lieutenant, Cremisius Aclassi.”
Krem met her eyes as she smiled at him, and he nodded, “It’s good to see you again, I-”
“Krem, this is Brenna of Clan Lavellan,” Bull cut him off, an inordinate amount of glee in his eye, “She’s the Herald of Andraste.”
Shit.
“Y-Your Worship,” he fully bowed his head, partially out of respect, mostly to hide the look of horror on his face.
“Oh!” she said, surprised, “There’s really no need for any of that.”
“Get everyone up together, Krem, we’re headed out,” Bull told him, “We just got hired.”
Of fucking course.
~*~*~
“Buy her a drink,” Bull insisted.
It had been a few weeks since they had joined the Inquisition formally. Bull had begun travelling at the Herald’s side, leaving him to lead the Chargers. They had been travelling around the Hinterlands for the most part, aiding with relief efforts, clearing bandit camps, but during the pockets of time between assignments, he found himself in Haven, avoiding the Herald of Andraste.
It would be easier that way, he could move on from his stupid bloody crush, and pretend that he wasn’t pining for the woman who had physically walked out of the Fade and potentially held the fate of the world in her hands.
And yet, despite his efforts, she was bloody everywhere.
He was running the Chargers through some training drills in the snowy fields outside Haven, only for her to go hurtling past, bow in hand, calling out a greeting before she disappeared off into the woods, returning later to call for some help to carry her goods, having hunted down some wild druffalo for meat and furs to keep members of the Inquisition fed and warm. He had gone to her without thought, and followed her back to the village, arms laden with furs, heart hammering in his chest as she laughed and joked with him.
He had volunteered for a night watch, determined to help out around Haven whenever he was there, and as he stood shivering in the cold, regretting not bringing his warmer cloak with him from his tent, he suddenly found a steaming cup of tea held out in front of him, the Herald telling him that it was a special Dalish blend designed to warm the body on winter nights. It was herbal, but he couldn’t ignore the sweetness of the honey that she had clearly mixed into it to detract from the bitterness. He had thanked her, and hoped she thought the blush in his cheeks was simply from the cold.
Even when he had been stationed out in the Hinterlands, the Chargers making quick work of some bandits that had been hassling refugees, there she was, brining supplies to the smallfolk, talking to a young girl about her vallaslin as the curious child asked questions, not shunning her away as some would. There was a patience to her, a kindness that he was surprised still endured after everything that had happened in the last few weeks to her. Even if members of the Chantry still doubted her innocence, still claimed she was responsible for the destruction of the Conclave, called her a heretic, there was no doubt in him that she was a hero. Not for the mark on her hand, or the title that had been thrust upon her, but for who she was at heart.
And now, once again, here she was, sitting a few tables away in the tavern in Haven, close enough to hear her laughter as she conversed with Dorian and Varric. Her dark hair was loose around her shoulders for once, looking more at ease than she had in a while.
He sighed, “She’s the Herald of Andraste, Chief, she’s not going to want to drink with some common mercenary.”
“Hey now, the Chargers are no common band of mercs, and you’re a damn fine soldier, any woman would be lucky to have a drink with you,” Bull said, “Besides, she’s not exactly been one for airs and graces, you know she doesn’t give a shit about the title. If anything, she probably needs someone to treat her like a regular woman again.”
He watched her bid goodnight to her friends, even flashing him a warm smile when she caught his eye, then headed outside.
“Krem,” Bull’s tone turned a little more serious, “You don’t let a woman like that get away. Take a chance.”
Fuck it.
He slammed back the rest of his drink, and got to his feet, earning a hefty pat on the back from the Chief before he followed her out into the cool night air.
She was quicker than him, light on her feet as always, headed away from the tavern. He followed her for a few paces, opening his mouth to call to her, but he stopped in his tracks when he saw someone else approach her.
It was the elf, the one who had been with her at the Coast, the one who travelled diligently at her side, Solas. The Herald smile at him, wide eyed in the moonlight, her hand gently squeezing one of his as they spoke before she let go, a flush in her cheeks.
Oh.
They turned, clearly headed somewhere together, and she spotted him.
“Are you alright, Krem?” she asked.
“Y-Yes, Your Worship,” he nodded quickly, “Just getting some air. You have a pleasant evening.”
“You as well,” she said, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he replied softly, waiting until she and Solas were out of sight to rest his head against the side of the tavern, letting out a hard breath that clouded on the air.
Idiot.