The Caged Sparrow
Around each corner, someone who needs help. She can't resist them. Quickly, she comes to their aid. She doesn't quite understand herself. But she runs to them, helps them, heals them. She wants others to know that she isn't evil. That magic can be used for good. So she fights, she fights and she runs. She hurts, she always hurts, but she fights.
The Herald returned to Haven at nightfall, true to Leliana's word. Tired, a bit lethargic, she still pressed forward even after the weeks without a moments rest when she saw the familiar silhouette of Haven in the distance. She came through the gate last, behind her companions, almost looked over by the scouts as she passed. If only.
"Your worship." One greeted, crossing his hand over his chest, the salute of the Inquisition. "Sister Leliana wishes to speak with you and Seeker Cassandra at once."
No rest for the wicked. She thought to herself with a bit of a laugh, though nodding her accordance. "Understood. If you could let them know that I'll be in the tavern, I'd be most grateful. They're even welcome to join me if they're willing to pay."
The scout smiled briefly at her light quip before saluting her once more and running back to the Chantry. Alone, Aveline inhaled the cold winter air, hoping no one would come looking for her in that moment. Not only was she exhausted beyond belief, she was absolutely starving. A slight rumbling in her stomach gave way to that. Varric had noted it during their trek through the Frostbacks.
But as she walked through Haven, no one pulled her aside, no one leered at her, no one shouted obscenities at her, barely anyone even looked her way. Never had she ever truly appreciated her aura. Once her mentor described it as peaceful, that people often ignored her because she wasn't even considered to be a threat. It would've been useful, if she'd trained under any other school of magic. She had refused to learn anything more than healing magic before her Harrowing. She hated violence, yet understood the importance and necessity of it. Especially after facing demonic possession.
Quietly, she slipped into the tavern, approaching Flissa with a smile and sitting down at the bar. She sat there for a moment, enjoying the bard's songs and listening to the villagers talk about more mundane occurrences. A young woman was having an issue of nugs following her wherever she went. Never mind that a young man chuckled in the background, having put feed in her pouch after cutting a small hole in it, causing it to spill out and allowing the nugs to eat happily as they chased after her.
"Oh!" Flissa exclaimed, finally taking notice of the mage despite making eye contact a moment before. "I didn't see ya there! What can I get ya?"
She chuckled quietly, placing a few coppers in front of her. "Stew would be lovely, thank you."
The barkeep nodded, sliding the coins into her hand and setting a bowl in front of her patron. "Be ready in a minute."
"Thank you." Aveline said graciously, bowing her head a bit and continuing to listen to the music ringing out through The Singing Maiden.
A few minutes passed and more people filed into the tavern, weary from training or paperwork or dealing with the masses or whatever the Inquisition required of them. Among them was the commander. He was to meet a few of his fellow templars for a drink after they finished up for the day. Quietly, he chastised himself. He was no longer with the Order and he had a hard time remembering it.
He approached the bar, leaning on it instead of sitting, nodding towards Flissa as she served another patron sitting beside him before hurrying out onto the floor with a plate of tankards. He wasn't in a hurry, so he had no problem waiting. In fact, he almost preferred it. Slowly, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the change in venue from the barracks or the training yard.
Losing himself in Maryden's song, he barely noticed that it was the Herald sitting beside him enjoying her meal. He hadn't even known that she'd returned. At that moment she was invested in her stew, taking a bite of bread and sipping at her drink. He felt uneasy, and perhaps a bit awkward, he wasn't sure if he should approach her or not.
Truthfully, he wanted to. She was a mage, he was a former templar. She used to live in the Circle of Ostwick before they rebelled with the rest of Thedas. He wanted to gauge her opinions on the Order, see if she was afraid of them, hateful, distrusting. Perhaps clear up any misconceptions, if there were any within her. He felt like he was trying to make up for his past, and maybe he was. But still, he wanted to know.
"Lady Trevelyan?" He asked tentatively, inching closer to her.
Caught by surprise, and in mid bite, she looked up at the commander, her mouth full of stew and bread. Quickly she brought her hand to her mouth and turned away from him, perhaps embarrassed by the state he caught her in. He was about to apologise, ask her if she wanted him to go, when she raised a finger to him, signaling that she'd only be a moment longer
He had to admit, it was a bit endearing, seeing her so flustered. Made her seem less like the Herald of Andraste and more like the woman she truly was.
"My apologies, commander." She noted, turning back towards him after taking a long swig of her drink, chuckling. "It seems that you caught me at a bad moment."
Quietly, chortling a bit himself, he sat down beside her. "I should be the one apologising. I didn't mean to take you by surprise like that."
She offered him a kind smile, pushing her bowl away just slightly. "That's alright. Can I help you with anything?" Before he could open his mouth, she stopped him. "Wait, if it's anything to do with the Inquisition I've promptly put all of those talks on hold."
He couldn't help but laugh. "No, I'm sure you've had enough of the Inquisition for one day."
"Perhaps." She agreed, absentmindedly stirring her stew. "Unfortunately I'll be having to deal with you and the rest of this Inquisition business for months to come."
Her tone was dry, her expression flat, and for a moment the commander thought she was being serious. He thought he was disturbing her. But as her lip curled, giving him a coy smirk, he shook his head and laughed. "That was most cruel, Herald."
"Apologies, commander." She chuckled, not sounding sorry in the slightest. "Perhaps Varric is influencing my humour, I simply couldn't resist."
Cullen almost groaned, still with a smile on his face. "I sorely hope not. I can hardly stand the dwarf as it is. He bothers me both day and night. Claiming I spend too much time with a serious look on my face. I don't know how I'll survive if they're to be two of them roaming around camp."
Aveline returned his smile with her own, her blue eyes almost sparkling. "I'm sure it wouldn't be that bad. And I'm sure you didn't take a seat just for me to tease you."
He nodded, ordering a drink from Flissa and turning back to the Herald. "I wanted to ask you about your life in the Circle."
"Oh?" She returned, genuinely curious. "May I ask why?"
"I was a templar in Kirkwall for many years, and Ferelden before that." He informed her. "I served in the Circle and I wanted to know if there would be -" He stammered a bit, not sure how to word the question he wished to ask.
That was alright, since she seemed to understand what he was trying to get across. "You want to know what I think of the Order."
"Y-yes." He admitted, flustered. "You're a mage and I wanted to be sure that there wasn't any sour feelings left over from your time in the Circle. Not every templar is like what you've since in the Hinterlands."
Surprisingly, Aveline chuckled. "I'll let you know now that I never resented templars. I was living quite happily in Ostwick until the Circles rebelled. I even could call some of them my friends."
The commander had to admit, he hadn't expected that sort of response. "That is – I've never known a mage to think that way. So you are not an apostate?"
"Well, I am, we all are. Though not by our choice. There were things I didn't approve of while I was in the Circle, don't get me wrong." She reiterated, taking a drink. "But they were simply doing their job, following orders. I cannot hold that against them. So I made the best of my time there."
Cullen couldn't help but smile. The Herald proved to be a kind woman. Understanding. It was a refreshing notion. "I'm glad to hear your experience in the Circle was a good one."
"Oh, no, it wasn't. Not really." She said, looking up at Flissa as she placed the commander's drink in front of him. "That doesn't mean I have to dwell on it or hate the templars because of it."
"I'm sorry -" The commander hesitated, peering into his drink. "I didn't mean to -"
"It's alright!" She assured him, smiling and putting a hand on his shoulder. "The important thing is that we're both here now, isn't it? Mages and templars working together, fighting for a common cause, the start of something better for the both of us."
He scoffed, a bit skeptical. "You apparently haven't heard the fighting that goes on in the barracks. It seems that you and I are an exception to the rule."
"Then, here's to us." She offered, raising her glass. "The exceptions."
Cullen chuckled, knocking her glass with his own. "And to closing the Breach."
She rolled her eyes in that moment, setting her drink down and chuckling. "I thought I said I was putting all Inquisition related discussions on hold for the night!"
He laughed quietly into his hand. "My apologies. It just slipped out."
"You're forgiven." She allowed him, her grin wavering on devilishness. "Just this once."
"Commander!" Someone suddenly shouted from across the tavern, making their way for the two. "Started without us, did you?"
Cullen turned at the familiar voice, one of his fellow templars, Nathanial. "If you and the others hadn't kept me waiting then perhaps that wouldn't've been necessary."
That's when the soldier directed his attention towards the Herald, giving her a coy smirk. "I see you've had some good company, at least. What's your name, lass?"
The commander almost chastised his comrade. How could he not recognise the Herald? But before he got a chance to, she responded, simply smiling up at the soldier. "Aveline, it's a pleasure."
"I'm sure." He grinned, nudging Cullen in the side. "This guy's about as interesting as a wet blanket!"
Aveline couldn't help but laugh, bringing her hand to her mouth and watching the commander's face contort into a frown. "It wasn't so bad, I assure you."
"No need to be polite on his account-"
"That's enough, Trevor." Cullen interrupted, placing his hand over his subordinate's mouth and smiling kindly at the Herald. "We'll be taking our leave. It was nice to have this chat, Lady Trevelyan."
She nodded her agreement as she watched the two men relocate to another part of the tavern where a group of templars was waiting for them. Halfway there, though, Trevor turned around, his mouth fluttering open and shut as he probably surmised that he'd actually been talking to the woman that'd been guided out of the Fade by Andraste herself. Aveline couldn't stop the chuckle that bubbled past her lips. She wasn't used to being treated with such reverence, it would take a while to get used to it.
She's wandering the halls of the manor, as she often does. Regarding the paintings she's passed time and time again, she can feel eyes on her. It's not as if she isn't accustomed to being watched, but the gaze she feels is not the usual cold stare from the guards, but something much more heated. She doesn't know what to expect. Yet she knows it won't be good.
"Excuse me, Aveline, is it?"
She turns, surprised. It isn't the one who's been watching her, but a young apprentice. A young man she remembers to be Harper. Regarding him she barely notices someone down the hall, they turn the corner quickly, and she feels the hostile energy dissipate. She didn't see who it was, but it won't be the last time she feels their gaze boring holes into her.
Quickly she forgets the presence, smiling up at the man who asked for her attention. "Yes, and you're Harper, are you not?"
He nods, his eyes casting a sort of warmth into the young woman. "Yeah! I didn't know you knew who I was!"
She chuckles at his excitement, bring her hand to her mouth. "Whenever someone comes from another Circle, we tend to remember them."
"Oh, right." He laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck. "I came from Ostwick."
Really? She thinks, smiling happily. "What's it like there? Is Lydia still the First Enchantress?"
He nods, blushing a bit for reasons she isn't quite sure of. "She told me about you before I came here. You're from Ostwick too, right?"
"Indeed." She confirms, recalling her parents and the rest of the House of Trevelyan. They hid her away in Kirkwall, only allowing her to return home for their many balls, for the sake of image. Even the templars have no idea who she really is. She's simply Aveline. The Knight-Commander knows, those who keep watch over her phylactery know, otherwise her identity is unknown to the others beyond her first name and her status as a mage.
Realising that she's ignoring the young apprentice, she shakes her head of the past and she smiles up at him. He returns the look kindly before looking away, blushing. The two walk down the corridor, talking about Ostwick like fast friends, enjoying each other's company, not even noticing that someone's eyeing them once more. For what possible reason, neither know. But it isn't good.
Author's Note: More awkwardness between Cullen and Aveline. Just because I can and I think that awkward romance is great romance~ Reviews are love! xoxo, Momma Love