He slumped into his chair while rubbing his temple with his fingers, his head pounded from the reports that came to him since the explosion. The reports that he had to fill out over-piled on his desk, threatening to topple over him. Letting out a deep sigh, he grabbed another report, if there was anything he dreaded more, it was paperwork. He hated the endless amounts of writing, sitting on his chair all day, and barely being able to function with his lack of sleep. All of his Templar training had not prepared him for this, he mused.
Neither had it prepared him for the horrible events that took place just days before; these last few days had by far been the worst of his life. He'd been cooped up in his room filling out reports after reports, while trying to keep Haven's people's eagerness about the Herald at bay. He'd never personally met the Herald but he had a hunch that she was not going to make his duty anymore pleasant, he stared distastefully at the report that one of Leliana's agents gave him to review, he squinted his eyes at the report, unable to make heads or tails of the handwriting; after several minutes he decided that he wouldn't have much luck trying to decipher it and decided to take a stroll through Haven.
Fresh air is what he needed, he thought.
He got up from his chair and briskly walked through his door, and was greeted by a whiff of cold air. He trembled slightly at its touch and clung onto his cloak tighter. He made his way through the barracks, nodding in appreciation at his soldiers diligently training. As he passed through their tents, he heard one of his men whispering to another, "Did you see the Herald earlier Gregor, she looks like one of us."
"One of us? What do you mean 'one of us'?" Gregor asked.
"Well… for starters she's human," he announced proudly.
"That doesn't mean anything…" the other said, scratching his chin.
"Well… coulda' been a knife ear," he said while snickering.
"Jacob, you best be watching your tongue. Especially around the Com—", he paused when he saw a shadow towering over him. He turned his head around to greet the figure but then he saw the Commander staring down at him, arms crossed.
"Commander!" he yelped, jumping backwards.
The Commander tilted his head sideways, waiting for some excuse to slip from their mouths.
"I—ah—we, were taking a break is 'all," one spoke while eyeing his friend to agree with him.
His friend just lowered his gaze to the ground, afraid of the Commander.
Amused at their reaction, the Commander raised his eyebrow and said, "If you can take your time off practice to tell tales about the Herald, I'm sure you have time to help our Quartermaster carry those heavy logs into the Chantry."
The both of them glanced nervously at each other and nodded furiously. Before they had the chance to speak again, the Commander swiftly turned around and waved his finger at them, tauntingly.
He made his way to his favourite spot in Haven, the lake. The air was always so still and he always found himself to be more relaxed when he sat here, doing nothing in particular. It helped him clear his mind, that was he needed, especially when his mind was always so cluttered with fear.
As he was about to sit near the lake he stopped when he saw something piled over by snow. He wondered what creature lay beneath it while unsheathing his sword slowly. He crept at it slowly, his breath low; the pile of snow shifted, as he was about to sink his sword deep into it—it let out a sneeze.
He jumped backwards, confused.
The pile of snow moved again, shaking slightly. A hand emerged from underneath, nails scratching the powdered ground.
"Fuck," it hissed.
He narrowed his eyes at it, could it be a feral creature, he thought.
Before he could confirm his suspicion, the creature lifted itself off the ground, shaking the snow of itself. The Commander was greeted by a figure, its hair slightly reaching its lower back. The figure stretched itself, shaking whatever snow that was left on its body, muttering under its breath.
The figure turned around to face the Commander, whose face was the perfect definition of confused. It giggled slightly while asking if he could lend it his coat. The Commander nodded slowly, trying to register what was happening.
"Well, are you going to cover a lady from the cold?" she asked, her left arm extended. "I somehow manage to fall asleep here and that was clearly a terrible idea," she said while shivering slightly.
The Commander glanced down at her hand, looking at the gash on her palm. He looked back up into her deep blue eyes, and back again at her palm.
Oh shit.
"Herald!" he finally spoke while he removed his cloak swiftly and handed it to her.
"Ah… yes," she said, while wrapping it around her slender figure. The Commander couldn't help but compare her petite frame to his cloak. Smirking internally at the thought.
How can she be the Herald? She's puny.
He rubbed the back of his neck, recalling his brief meeting with her—if one could call it that. He remembered instructing his men to lift her off the ground right after watching her fall out of the rift; he shuddered slightly remembering the sickly green that emitted from her hand.
He was also present during her fight, two days before. He watched her slay a Pride demon ferociously, without a hint of doubt in her face and when he saw her race towards the rift, he was at awe how quick she was with her feet but he was also annoyed at the fact that she dove head first into battle without thinking about her safety nor the Inquisition's soldier's that were with her.
She bit her lower lip while staring at him, wondering what in Maker's name is making him stare at her, she wasn't entirely sure if was thinking good or ill of her, as most often people thought the latter of her. She cleared her throat and extended her right arm forward,and introduced herself.
"I am her," she said, grinning.
The Commander blinked again at her, as if trying to understand whatever language she was speaking to him. Great Cullen, your first impression screams nervous Chantry boy. He bowed his head at her greeting, forgetting entirely that she had extended her arm out for him to shake.
Cullen groaned internally at how stupid he looked for bowing.
Alysia folded her arm back, trying to muffle her laugh.
"It is an honour to meet you—", she paused and sniffed his cloak, "… elderflower," she said, teasing him.
Cullen blushed furiously at her "Ah… Cullen Rutherford. I'm the Commander of the Inquisition, Herald," he said, his voice shaking with either annoyance or awkwardness.
He saw her face twist into a slight annoyance, for whatever reason. He started to open his mouth to apologize then shut it quickly, afraid that another stupid remark might fall out of his mouth. He kicked his boot onto the snowy ground and shifted awkwardly at her stare. After a moment, he found the courage to look up at her again, and he saw her mouth twitch into a smile, then slowly she clasped her hand around her mouth and laughed uncontrollably.
Maker, she's teasing me, he muttered under his breath when he saw her tilting her head at him.
"Well Commander, thank you for keeping me warm," she said while handing the cloak back at him, "I'm sure we'll see each other very soon."
Before Cullen could say anything, Alysia was well off on her way back to Haven. He buried his head in his hand, his body hot from his encounter with the Herald.
Maker, she will be the death of me.