Chapter 4: That Poor Dummy
"I think you need one of those, don't you?" Maxwell had walked around the table and was patting Cullen on the shoulder, as someone would who was comforting a friend.
"A secretary?" Cullen repeated as a question, trying to assimilate the idea. He couldn't decide if it was a good or bad one. It met the requirements he had set in searching for a job for Mercy. But it met the requirements a little too much, Cullen thought. Meaning he didn't like the idea of working so closely with anyone.
"To do your clerical work," the Inquisitor elaborated. "And clean up that office of yours. Every time I visit your little corner of Skyhold, there seems to be more and more clutter lying around."
"I don't believe this," Cullen snickered, even as he continued to sulk against the table. "The Inquisitor is telling me I need to clean my room."
"Yes," Maxwell said as he crossed his arms and faced a window. "It saddens me whenever I walk around Skyhold and realize it's incomplete. Holes remain in the roof, piles of rubble in corners," he was intentionally speaking in a theatrical in tone. "There are so many messes leftover from the previous occupants. I'm a completionist. I want to see Skyhold restored to its deserved glory. But it has to start with cleaning up our own messes," he now said with amusement. "That includes your office, Cullen."
"And you think I should hire Mercy to do it?"
"What better way to keep her out of harm's way than to put her near the Commander of the Inquisition, more or less, the entirety of every day," Maxwell conveyed to Cullen with empathy. "Unless you think she would make a poor assistant to the Commander of the Inquisition?"
"That's… not what I'm thinking," Cullen gruffly replied before pushing himself off the table. "She has clerical experience, I believe. She stated she was to be become a cleric before she left the Chantry."
"Mmm-hmm." Maxwell was smiling; his cheekiness was showing. "But I predict you're now going give me an objection to working closely with someone you conceivably have a lot in common with."
In common with? The Inquisitor wasn't playing matchmaker, was he? It wouldn't go over very well if he was; Cullen wouldn't let it. Cullen could use an assistant—someone to sort through the papers and notes he left lying around—that much was true. Especially if Cullen had plans to further pursue the Red Lyrium trail left behind by the Templars at Therinfal Redoubt, perhaps with some field work of his own. However, Cullen would not stand idle while Maxwell tried to play connoisseur in his love affairs.
Mercy is not a love affair, Cullen admonished himself. He didn't have time for that sort of thing. Nor would it be fair to put the woman through Cullen's unstable state of mind—not with the lyrium withdrawals.
Maker, where is this coming from, Cullen was now fretting—realizing that he wasn't exactly objecting to the idea of romancing Mercy. If things were different and the world wasn't in turmoil, maybe he could think of Mercy in that way.
"Personally, Inquisitor," Cullen produced. "I don't think it's wise."
"Because of the lyrium withdrawals?" Maxwell was direct about his curiosity.
"Only one reason out of many," he answered Maxwell with reservation. He couldn't let Maxwell know that he was, in fact, attracted to Mercy—at least a little. His encounter with her at the tavern had proven that, he thought, because he now had a determination to see her settle into the Inquisition where he would continue to see her. But allowing Maxwell to learn more of Cullen's motivations would only encourage more teasing at the war table. It was better to let Maxwell think it was the withdrawals.
Maxwell turned to his Commander in concern and voiced, "Even the Divine had a left and right hand to extend her reach. Justinia worked closely with Leliana and Cassandra. There's no harm in giving Mercy Calloway a chance to do the same for you. She may prove to be invaluable to you." After patting Cullen on the shoulder once again, Maxwell headed for the door leaving Cullen be. But before exiting, he said the one last thing of, "Consider it, at least, Cullen."
By the time the door closed behind Maxwell, Cullen was smiling with admiration. The Inquisitor was right, of course. He was always right. And Cullen would dutifully consider Maxwell's idea for Mercy in his office, away from the war table where his only concern should be war.
But as Cullen headed for his office, lost in thought, he was abruptly stopped in the main hall by a callous, loud, and Nevarran, "Cullen!" He looked up and found Lady Cassandra stomping down the main hall, visibly irate as she charged toward him. It was an intimidating sight to see her singling him out, and he did not know what to do other than hold his ground as he ran through all the possible things he could have done to make the Seeker angry. He could think of none.
Everyone else got out of Cassandra's way before she pushed them out of the way. "Commander Cullen," she austerely said again, but adding his title, as she halted in front of him. "There is something on the training area that demands your attention." She then reached out grabbing Cullen by the arm, and with surprising ease dragged the ex-Templar toward the entrance of the main hall.
"What is this about, Lady Cassandra?" he pled as he watched the surrounding faces go by with startled and scandal-hungry expressions.
Outside, Cassandra released his arm and answered with a grunt. "Follow me, Commander, and you will see what this is about," she imparted, before moving off without him.
He followed the Seeker as she rushed toward the training area, the one past Herald's Rest. It wasn't difficult to see the problem as soon as they entered the area. Cassandra stopped a distance away from the little woman who was furiously trying to hack at a training dummy. When Cullen was close enough, he could hear the cursing that was endlessly erupting from Mercy Calloway's mouth between insults about Iron Bull and… him.
"I thought I'd get along with Bull's Chargers perfectly," Mercy screamed as she bounced her family sword off the training dummy. She couldn't seem to land an effective hit with a sword that weighed more than her arm. "The Iron Bull likes to hit things. Andraste f**ker!" She finally landed a hit and the sword sliced through the neck of the dummy, sticking to the post underneath. "See! I. Can. Learn. To. Like. Hitting. Things, too!" she articulated each word with every attempt to pull the sword out of the post.
When it absolutely refused to budge under her grasp, Mercy started kicking the training dummy. "Take that! And that! And that, Commander Cullen!" After a barrage of kicks, she started at tearing the dummy with her bare hands, and throwing the straw from its innards by the handfuls.
"This is not acceptable," Cassandra said before turning around and speaking in hushed severity to Cullen. "This is somehow your doing, Commander. Stop her. Now. She's destroying my favorite training dummy." The Seeker then walked off the training area as if she had made a divine decree, which she expected to be fulfilled immediately.
Mercy was now jumping on the training dummy as she tried pulling her sword out of it again, using her feet as leverage, and still throwing out curse words. "Give me my sword, son of a Darkspawn! Sodding porch-dick!"
The sword was finally giving, and Cullen came running to catch Mercy before the sword completely gave. When it slipped, Mercy fell backwards with the sword in both hands into the prepared Cullen. But the woman screamed when Cullen touched her, dropped the sword, and started flailing her arms to get away. Cullen fought to hold on, not wanting to drop her. "Back! Back!" she growled as she struggled to land a punch with her eyes closed. "Or I will go wer—"
Mercy fell silent and motionless when she realized who it was.
"Lady Mercy," Cullen offered a respectful greeting. He kindly and gently set her down now that she wasn't fighting him, neglecting to let go as she looked up at him with her bright eyes. The smile that formed on his lips was compulsive.
She cagily regarded him, before she pushed and pulled away. "Don't call me that. I'm no lady of a court." Cullen stood as she did—Mercy scrounging up her sword. "I'm nothing at all, all right? You made sure of that! Whatever you told Iron Bull worked. He won't let me into the Chargers. They left not too long ago with Scout Harding's group, Bull promising my day would look up at some point. Bull… shit!" she swore lunging at the training dummy with her sword. Her swing was more controlled this time, and successfully scathed what was left of the dummy before her. "There's nothing promising about being rejected. Twice."
"This is my fault," Cullen poorly stated, feeling terrible. "I mean… I'm… sorry. Yes," he tried again. "I told Bull to hold off his offer to you. I wanted… "
Mercy had stopped raging, giving Cullen her full attention. She wasn't in recruit armor anymore, but a loose pale-green tunic and belted brown trousers. It looked fondly farmhand—Cullen liked the modesty to it. And he so liked her hair down, no matter how unkempt it was. Though he knew Mercy probably hadn't thought too hard about how she looked this morning.
He had paused to gaze at her, turning away in embarrassment when he gazed too long. "I have a job offer for you," Cullen finally got out. "It would seem I'm in need of a secretary—someone with clerical experience. The paperwork is piling up in my office, and it would do me a great service if I could have an assistant sort through it for me—help me remain organized. There may even be a time when I am needed on the field and I'll need someone to remain here to keep my office managed."
Mercy let her sword tip fall to the ground; she stared at Cullen and then past him in reflection. Then her head dropped. "That sounds… wonderful, Commander," and Cullen's heart raced with elation, nervousness, and excitement all at once.
"But I must decline your offer," she said, looking back up with an impassive expression. She tied her sword to her belt and trudged past a befuddled Cullen. "Thank you for the consideration," she said without stopping her trudge. "It was unexpected, but… appreciated."
What is happening? He watched Mercy walk towards Herald's Rest, beyond understanding the rejection he had just received. It wasn't right. It was not supposed to happen this way. "Wait!" he called and ran after her, touching her elbow. "Mercy, what can I do to make up for what I've done?"
She barely acknowledged him, staring at his gloved hand on her elbow. "Nothing," she murmured. "I will return to the Chantry in Denerim. The danger for me there has most likely subsided." She turned to go, Cullen almost reaching for her, trying to grasp for something more than what she had given him.
Cullen rubbed his brow. "This is not what I expected, either. It was the Inquisitor's idea to ask you… I thought… He's usually right about… "
"The Inquisitor wants me to be your secretary?" Mercy inquired, reappearing in front of Cullen, looking up at him with wider eyes than he had seen.
"It was his idea, yes," Cullen admitted more freely. "Does that matter?" He was caught off guard by her closeness and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
Mercy knowingly smiled at him. "The Herald of Andraste wants me to be your secretary, and you're asking if that matters?"
"Oh, right," Cullen understood.
"Right," Mercy agreed. "I take back what I said… the bit about declining your offer. Although… I'll need some time to think about my official answer. Can you keep the offer open for a few days?"
"You're the only candidate," Cullen replied, attempting at wit. "The offer will stand until you officially decline."
"Excellent," Mercy clapped. Then she clapped Cullen on the arm. "Thank you, Commander. I'll be back in a few days."
"Where are you going?" Cullen asked after her as she started her way again.
"I need to see a man about a dog," Mercy bizarrely replied.
As she disappeared into Herald's Rest, Cullen went over what had just happened in his head. Once more, Mercy had left him confused and concerned for her well-being. She was the strangest individual he thought he had ever encountered, but he also realized… Mercy reminded him a lot of Inquisitor Trevelyan—the way she clapped and then clapped him on the shoulder. Though Maxwell played at being innocent, a lot of the time he was truly being cunning. Cullen couldn't quite tell if Mercy was cunning, or genuinely… a mess.
Cullen was half tempted to have one of Leliana's people follow Mercy around to see what she would be up to for the next few days. It seemed unnecessary, however. He would have plenty of time to get to know Mercy when she returned and started her job as his secretary. If she returns, he reminded himself.
He wanted her to return.
Maxwell entered Cassandra's little nook in Skyhold. The Seeker was sitting at her table, ignoring her plate of food, and reading the Swords and Shields book that Varric had given her at Maxwell's request.
"Skipping practice today to do some reading?" Maxwell leaned in over her shoulder to tease her. "This is your third read of this book, Lady Cassandra. Should I be striving to be like the men in Varric's novels so you'll pay more attention to me?"
"Ugh," Cassandra expressed as she rolled her eyes, but smiling at Maxwell all the same. She put the book down. "I wouldn't have skipped practice today, but there was an angry woman in my way."
"Are you describing yourself?" Maxwell mockingly wondered. Cassandra looked about to throw her book at him, but he smiled and took a seat across from her. He began picking and eating the food on her plate. "This angry woman you mention, Cullen's doing, right?"
Cassandra glared at him. "I am not surprised you would know about it."
"Word travels fast in Skyhold," Maxwell shrugged. "That poor dummy," he then issued, knowing it had been Cassandra's favorite.
"Inquisitor, are you speaking of the Commander or the training dummy?" she reproachfully asked of him.
Maxwell laughed; he enjoyed his chats with Cassandra. He enjoyed everything about her. "I hardly think Cullen is a dummy. Sometimes, though, he needs encouragement. His withdrawals are worsening. He needs a decent distraction so he can endure."
"It was never going to be easy," Cassandra stated with concern. "Did you have something in mind, to help our Commander?"
"I do, and you saw it," Maxwell happily relayed. "She destroyed your favorite training dummy."
There was silence as Cassandra thought about it. "I do not approve of your scheming," she freely admitted. "A relationship could prove to be devastating for Cullen. He has duties he must attend to."
Maxwell sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "I'm not convinced you believe that. I did recently learn you were a romantic, after all." He rubbed his chin and smiled at Cassandra as she continued to glare at him with disapproval. "If I properly courted you, my lady, would you be more understanding?"
"You intend to court me? You of all people?" Her mouth hung open in bewilderment. "It is impossible."
He got up out of the seat and said, "We shall see, Lady Cassandra. I'm going to enjoy sweeping you off your feet."
AN: Ick. Daylight savings has ruined my sleep schedule. Oh well. Finished up this chappie.