Just throw the damned thing away, Cullen told himself. Again. For perhaps the hundredth time. Throw it away and be done with it. Keep your promise to the Inquisitor.

It was no use. Nothing he told himself mattered. The lyrium kit remained open, on his desk, and literally right under his nose. It had been a bad day, the cravings and the withdrawal shaking him with equal strength. Even now, as his hand started to reach out towards the lyrium, he only stopped because he saw how wildly his hand was shaking.

A bad day. You knew they would come. He took a long, deep breath. You withstood the demons at Kinloch Hold. Surely you can stand strong against this addiction. The words rang increasingly hollow, though, and he clenched his hand into a fist.

When the door opened, the distraction was enough to give him the strength to slam the lyrium kit shut and throw it into one of the drawers of his wobbly desk. "Inquisitor," he said politely, all too aware that he must look rather pathetic at the moment. "You're early for our meeting."

The elf scrutinized him closely as she walked over to stand close to him, and he forced himself not to jerk away as her hand came up to rest on his forehead. "Bad day?" she asked in a sympathetic tone, withdrawing her hand to clasp them behind her back.

There really didn't seem to be any point in denying it, so he simply nodded and said, "Yes."

"You missed practice this morning," she noted. "You know how upset I get when I miss an opportunity to land my Commander flat on his ass in front of the troops."

The comment made him chuckle, lightening his mood instantly. He knew that the Inquisition forces were inordinately proud of their tiny, two-handed warrioress leader, and seeing her knock him on his ass was as much a morale booster as all the hot meals and sturdy shoes in Thedas. "I'm sorry to have denied you the opportunity."

The Inquisitor opened her mouth to speak, and Cullen tilted his head as the oddest sound seemed to come from her mouth. "Ah, Inquisitor... I know I've called you sex kitten in the past, but you really don't have to go quite that far."

She rolled her eyes and hit his arm, making him rock slightly, then brought her other hand out and around her body. "I was going to say that I'd brought you a present, but if you'd rather be a smart-ass, I can take him away again."

Cullen blinked as she lifted her hand up higher. "Is that-"

"-an actual kitten, yes. The cat in the tavern gave birth." Lavellan smiled as she reached up to gently stroke the tiny little ball of fluff. "Cole's been like a mother hen with them for a few weeks now - at least, when he hasn't gone out with me. I don't think it occurred to him to tell anyone until I asked him where the cat had gone. When he showed them to me, though, he picked this one up and said I should give it to you."

"He did?" Cullen asked, surprised.

Lavellan nodded. "He said, and I quote, Let the tiny roar remind the big roar of what he can do."

Cullen looked at the small animal more closely. His markings were rather plain, but what Cullen did notice was the color: tawny through and through. In fact, he could only think of one other animal that was quite that shade of light tanned brown. A smile came to his lips as he gently took the animal from the woman before him, and pulled him to rest against his breastplate. "Tiny roar, hmm?"

"The tiniest lion in Skyhold," Lavellan chuckled.

"All right. Let's see what he can show the largest lion in Skyhold, then," Cullen replied with a grin.

Over the next few days, he learned several very important things about the tiniest lion in Skyhold. The first thing he learned is that the kitten loved nothing in the world as much as the fur lining the neck of Cullen's cloak. Though the kitten first laid claim to the fur at night when Cullen wasn't wearing it, the ball of fur soon learned how to climb Cullen's clothing and find his favorite place no matter what Cullen was doing.

Soon, the whole of Skyhold became accustomed to the sight of the Lion of Ferelden walking through the fortress with a tawny, fluffy lump on his shoulder. The kitten refused to be parted from Cullen - or, more specifically, the fur around his neck - even going so far as to climb him during combat practice or during meetings around the War Table. Once, to Cullen's endless consternation, the kitten even snuggled down into the fur and proceeded to purr loudly from where Cullen had discarded it in a desperate bid to get naked as swiftly as possible after Lavellan had kept him after one of those meetings for a 'special session' on the War Table.

The second thing he learned was that the kitten loved to hunt. The few times he was not on Cullen's shoulder, the kitten was hunting, tail lashing dangerously as it stalked its prey. Nothing was safe, particularly Josephine's quill, Dorian's books, Solas' paintbrushes, and Leliana's crows. That earned him several cross looks from Josephine and a clandestine inquiry from Dorian on where he'd gotten the kitten.

However, the most important thing he learned was that kittens couldn't stand lyrium. Every time Cullen pulled out his kit to stare his addiction down the throat and struggle against its pull, the kitten would hiss, jump down on the table, and constantly bat at Cullen's hands until the kit was put away.

At which point the kitten would climb Cullen's cloak and curl up into a ball on his shoulder, purring loudly.

Oh, the bad days still happened, of course. But somehow, they were easier to face with a ball of unabashedly loud vibrating fur on his shoulder.

And then came the day when he pulled out the kit and didn't open it. Just throw the damned thing away, Cullen told himself. Throw it away and be done with it. Keep your promise to the Inquisitor.

On his shoulder, the kitten yawned hugely, then looked up at Cullen and meowed piteously. Cullen smiled. Maybe the tiny roar really can teach me something.

A small rectangular box was thrown out of a tower window that day, and no one missed it.

Especially not the tiniest lion in Skyhold.