Of Whispers and Requests

"Draw your last breath, my friends,
Cross the Veil and the Fade and all the stars in the sky.
Rest at the Maker's right hand,
And be Forgiven."

"The Canticle of Trials isn't usually popular enough to be memorized," Cullen said.

It startled Trevelyan enough that he heard her gasp and saw her start from the ball she tried to roll herself in in the front pew of the Chantry. He thought he had been loud enough walking (between his boots and armor and the tiled floor, he couldn't be quiet), but apparently she had been too wrapped up in her own praying to notice. Or her thoughts. It was difficult for Cullen to read her half the time, while the other half she was too easy to read. He figured she had no in-between moments or parts to her personality; she was just one extreme or another.

Or maybe he had failings when it came to reading women and their moods or thoughts or wants.

And, to be honest, he would have walked right by her and never even noticed that she was there. Or that she had been the one praying. But one sharp look from Vivienne, one of her newest members to her little rag-tag group she was building, had him pausing. That woman was the dangerous kind of mage, someone who wielded power as easily as she wielded the cold and ice. Even more than that, she was a dangerous kind of woman. Period.

She had manipulative down to an art form. And it took one look to let him know something was wrong. Something she could not or, rather, did not want to deal with.

"Oh, well," she began, and he could see her beginning to gather her composure. "I always liked it best. They're all about overcoming adversity and such, instead of warning about the dangers of magic or being dirges. It's hard not to see the appeal."

He smirked and leaned against the pew. "I can certainly agree with that."

She smiled up at him. "I've always wondered… Is it as boring for Templars to memorize the Canticle of Transfigurations as it is for us mages?"

"If by that you mean that we also would nod off and think about everything else while studying it, then yes." Out of habit, he realized that he rested his left hand on the pommel of his sword. It happened every time magic was brought up, and he hated it only because of how it would draw her gaze. It always dampened her smile.

She looked back up at him. "Oh, good. It's so good to know there is that in common."

He nodded. "Is there a particular reason for the Canticle of Trials?" He had an idea, but didn't want to reveal he knew, just in case he was wrong.

She took in a deep breath and glanced around. It was still early enough in the day that there were lay sisters around, not to mention Vivienne, and various other pilgrims who made the trek to see the Herald. Taking a guess, he motioned to the door. "If you would like to accompany me…?"

And he was rewarded with a smile too bright and large, one that he had seen only once before when she had been eager for a lecture not too long after their first conversation. He cleared his throat and looked away, only to meet Vivienne's knowing gaze and smile. But the other mage looked away by the time Trevelyan stood and faced him.

"Shall we, Commander?"

In reply, he moved his hand from his sword pommel to her lower back and guided her out of the chantry door. As soon as they stepped outside, he heard and felt her take in a deep breath and exhale before she smiled up at him. "I know we discussed it inside, but are you truly all right with what was decided?"

He nodded once, and her smile quickly became a frown. "I know that nod. You're just agreeing with me and the others."

Cullen sighed this time and looked away, though his hand remained where it was. "No, I do truly see it as the best course of action. I can see the venture between Bull's Chargers and our troops going well. I'm more concerned about you. You were reciting the Chant while trying to hide in the chantry." He quirked a smile down at her, taken aback yet again by just how slight she was. "Had Vivienne not pointed you out, I would have completely missed you."

Even more than that, he had an idea what had happened in the Hinterlands now two weeks ago. Leliana had told him about the death of her youngest brother, Josephine about the angry missive from her eldest brother. And if the way she looked at him said anything, she knew what he wasn't asking.

Yet she only smiled that sad half-smile he saw before she left for Val Royeaux, then the Storm Coast two weeks ago and looked away. "I've just…had things on my mind. I was wondering, though, Commander."

She trailed off and he continued leading her to the makeshift training grounds, waiting for her to speak her mind. He was finding she did this sometimes, that she would start to say something then pause as she tried to find the best way to word a request. And he remembered many mages doing the same as they requested something of their superiors at the Circles he had been in. It was unnerving to see her treat him that way when they had both left that life for one reason or another.

"I know I am going to Redcliffe to see about the mages and what they want, but I was wondering if you might look into the Templars. We haven't had any word really on how to approach them or what they might want from an alliance." She sighed. "And I just don't want to leave everything in the hands of the mages."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have to say that's unexpected. With how you were in the War Room, I have to say this is somewhat out of character for you."

"Because I'm a mage?" She looked up at him again smiling, but with a wry humor. "Not all mages wanted to leave the Circle, you know. And Vivienne has made some good points about them and their desperation to me, all of which I agree to. I agree with some of yours as well."

When she looked back down, it was to her hand burdened with the anchor. He had a feeling she was thinking about his own warning that pouring too much magic into it could destroy everything. And as much as he didn't think it possible, he was becoming quite fond of the woman. Even with her being a mage, but he was finding it easier to ignore that about her. Well, to ignore that about most mages these days. He took it as a step in the right direction.

"I'll do my best while you are away, Herald."

"I do have a name, you know." It was almost laughed out, but the teasing behind it couldn't be masked.

"I know, Lady Trevelyan."

"That's not what I meant." And then she danced away from his hand and side upon arriving at the field outside the gates. Just as he was about to miss her warmth, she turned around and was suddenly too close. He could smell the scent she used to wash her hair in, though he couldn't quite name what it was. She squeezed his arm as best she could and whispered a, "Thank you," into his ear before she was gone again.

With how casually she walked over to Iron Bull and began talking to him, he almost thought he imagined it. But the flush he could feel on his face and the lingering memory of her touch told him otherwise.

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