One Step Ahead Chapter 8
Cassandra hated waiting.
Apparently, declaring an Inquisition was a lot more involved than simply shoving a book in the Grand Chancellor's face. It had taken two entire days of frantic activity just to send out the appropriate letters and announcements, organize the troops, and establish the new command structure. Now things were just barely starting to return to a semblance of order, a week after the destruction of the Conclave.
Cassandra was amazed at how normal she started to feel after only a few days. The task they faced was no less daunting, the events that had occurred were no less horrible, but in declaring the Inquisition, Cassandra felt like she had rediscovered her purpose. Though the pace was frustrating, the simple fact that they were doing something instead of running around like headless chickens or reeling in shock helped enormously.
The news slowly coming in from around the world was about as depressing as Cassandra had come to expect. Orlais was in shambles, the Imperium's false Chantry wasn't even trying to contain its glee, and Ferelden was being torn apart by mages and templars. Maker only knew what was happening further away.
One thing kept nagging at her thoughts, however, and that was Leliana's refusal to discuss Aaron's situation with anyone. Josephine had been completely beside herself in frustration at Leliana, but Cassandra could understand the necessity. Even so, that even someone as… tolerant as Leliana would totally refuse to even hint at Aaron's background was more than a little disconcerting, but what was more alarming was Leliana's sudden shift in demeanor. Ever since her discussion with Aaron, she had become dark, brooding, and short-tempered. The Breach had dashed Leliana's hopes, like everyone else, but even that hadn't made her drop her mask like this. Seeing that pressing her for information would be unwise, Cassandra managed to keep her concerns and curiosity about Aaron to herself.
Cassandra had a lot to think about on the sparring grounds that morning.
Cassandra was busy venting her frustrations onto a heavily notched training dummy, for lack of anything else to do while the others organized their branches of the Inquisition. Her purpose was as a warrior and investigator, not a bureaucrat, so she had been left with little to do. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Varric approaching. He was dressed in a loud red-and-gold outfit instead of leathers, and wasn't carrying Bianca, therefore he must have come to the training grounds just to bother her.
Wonderful.
Cassandra gave a little grunt of annoyance and studiously ignored him, focusing on chopping the dummy to pieces while imagining it was a particular mouthy dwarf.
"So this is your happy place," Varric drawled, raising his voice to compete with the din of sparring soldiers.
Cassandra thrust her sword deep into the frozen ground and crossed her arms. "What do you want, dwarf?"
Varric put his hands over his heart, adopting a hurt expression. "You wound me, Seeker. Can't a dwarf just stop by to say hello?"
"Hello." Cassandra said flatly. "I trust your business is now concluded?"
Varric cleared his throat. "Uh, heh, you caught me. I've actually been keeping my ear to the ground, you see, and there have been certain… misgivings."
"Oh?" Cassandra asked, resting her hands on her hips. "And what might those be?"
"Well, the rumor mill has been pretty wild, no surprises there, but lately people have really started to stick to one thing in particular—Aaron's absence. Some think the Inquisition's keeping him under lock and key. Others think he died, or went back to the Fade. And a whole lot of people have it in their heads that he's got a terrible secret he's trying to hide. Our fluffy friend is very mysterious, after all." said Varric.
Cassandra took a deep breath and sighed. "And what do you think?"
"Oh, he's hiding something unspeakably horrible, there's no doubt about that," Varric said, waving dismissively.
"And that unspeakably horrible something doesn't concern you at all?" Cassandra asked, raising an eyebrow. Varric's cavalier attitude made no sense to her at times. It wasn't like he was ignorant of the danger of trusting mages. He had countless experiences with mages keeping dark secrets that went horribly wrong, yet he acted blasé about things that he knew could easily kill him.
"Oh, we're all hiding something unspeakably horrible, aren't we?" Varric said with a knowing chuckle. "But that's not the point. Aaron's the Knight of Andraste now, but you're letting that advantage lapse. You have him, so use him."
"But how in the world are we supposed to rely on him, when no one other—" Cassandra's heart skipped a beat. She had nearly said that no one other than Leliana knew of Aaron's past, but Leliana had informed her in no uncertain terms that her knowledge was to remain secret. "—other than Aaron himself knows the first thing about him?"
Varric's expression turned serious. "You're going about this the wrong way, Seeker. Think of it from his perspective. He has no reason to confide in you, not when you treat him with hostility and suspicion. If you really wanted to know what his deal is, just get him to trust you, and he'll open up eventually. It's inevitable."
Cassandra blinked in surprise. She had not expected such a display of conviction from Varric. If it weren't for Varric's apparently sincere concern, she might have felt inclined to warn Aaron to watch for any signs of Varric trying to ingratiate himself.
He might just be right. Perhaps Varric is simply better at reading people than I am.
"How am I supposed to get him to trust me?" Cassandra asked, genuinely curious.
"Maybe by not keeping him locked away in the dungeon?" Varric said pointedly.
Cassandra frowned. So even Varric believed they had locked Aaron away?
"We've not detained him in any way, nor could we, given his predilection for disappearing." Cassandra said grudgingly. "He has simply preferred to stay in the dungeon."
Varric blinked a few times in surprise. "Really? That's just as telling. Nobody prefers to stay in a dungeon, Seeker. He'd probably rather be anywhere but in the public eye. Not that I blame him, but that's got to change, and quickly."
"That's… you're probably correct about that." Cassandra conceded. "We were planning to have a public ceremony with all the Divine's advisors to unveil the Inquisition flag over the chantry at noon…"
That gave Cassandra an idea.
"Since you seem so eager to help, Varric, you can be our liaison to Aaron," she said with a wicked smirk, savoring his sudden look of indignation. "You are the only person here that he seems to like, though only the Maker knows why, so go and fetch him from his little hole. Use your silver tongue to convince him, or drag him out, if necessary. I don't care, just get it done. I won't have this Inquisition, the Divine's Inquisition, begin under a pall of suspicion."
Varric looked as if he was about to refuse, then sighed. "Oh, fine. Have it your way, Seeker."
Cassandra smirked.
"But if I befriend him and find out any juicy details, you'll be the last to know!" Varric taunted, departing with a little wave. Then, in a lower undertone, he added, "Unlike you, I'm very good at making friends."
Before he could escape from that remark, Cassandra walloped him in the back of the head with a snowball.
Varric felt jumpy and wished he was carrying Bianca as he descended into the shadowy dungeon. Whatever else was going on with him, there was something definitely off about Aaron. It wasn't anything to do with his magic, or his creepy voice, or his hidden appearance. It was the other things, the subtle things, that gnawed at Varric. As a writer, he noticed that the way Aaron worded things was oddly formal and detached. As a fighter experienced in reading people, Varric had also noticed that the way Aaron moved was subtly wrong. He was somehow too fluid and too quick at the same time. And when he wasn't moving, he stood completely motionless, without so much as a fidget or a twitch. It was insectile, for lack of a better description, like he was a giant hooded mantis. Varric had a sneaking suspicion that Aaron wasn't a qunari or tal-vashoth like he'd originally thought, but rather something… else. He had no idea what, but his gut instinct was that it was Fade-related somehow.
At any rate, Aaron didn't seem like the kind of person you wanted to startle, so Varric made a conscious effort to suppress his silent habits of moving, tromping loudly down the stairs.
He spotted Aaron sitting at the end of the dungeon, hunched over a poor, suffering old table that seemed to sag under the weight of the stacks of books piled on top and the massive armored man leaning on it.
"If you'll please leave me to my work, I would appreciate it," Aaron said with an uncharacteristically hard tone to his voice, not bothering to look away from the one open book on the table.
"Can it wait?" Varric asked. "I'd like to talk with you about something."
Aaron flinched hard, sending a precarious stack of books crashing to the grimy floor.
"Oh!" Aaron quickly stood, and the table and chair groaned in relief. He crossed his forearms over his chest, bowing slightly. "Forgive me, salroka. What can I do for you?"
What's with this deferential reaction? Varric wondered.
"I wanted to check up on you. Sorry." Varric said, leaning down to help pick up the fallen books. It was an eclectic collection, containing everything from A Botanical Field Guide of Southern Thedas to Qun, Gurns and Steel. "I, uh, see you've been reading."
"That is correct," Aaron said, carefully taking In Pursuit of Knowledge: Travels of a Chantry Scholar from Varric and closing it, taking great care not to scratch the pages with his spiky, clawlike gauntlets. The contrast between his intimidating armor and the gentle surety of his movements was jarring.
"Is something bothering you? You seemed angry before." Varric asked.
Aaron looked away for a moment before answering. "I was reading the history of the last thousand years, since the Blights began. The state of the Surface world is… far more bleak than I imagined. I… to be honest, I am starting to question whether it can be saved. I'm even starting to question what I learned from the Paragons."
Varric couldn't help but stare at Aaron incredulously. Learned from the Paragons? What is he talking about? He said that as if they were still alive…
Varric cleared his throat awkwardly. "Er, if you don't mind me asking, what did you learn from the Paragons, and how?"
Aaron's hand went to his chest. Somehow, the gesture seemed pained. "You may be Kalna, a Surfacer, but you are still a dwarf... In case I die or should be exposed, I should probably tell you, if no one else…" Aaron muttered, as if speaking to himself.
That… really doesn't sound good, whatever it means.
"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Varric suggested.
"Hm. How to put this... I mentioned before that I was a scholar, yes? That is what I told Seeker Cassandra and Sister Leliana. In truth, I am more of an autodidact. In my search for knowledge, I discovered something of great importance, and that is why I sought the Grey Wardens." Aaron paused, searching for words. "The beginning… I'm sorry, I cannot tell you the whole truth about that, but I swear that what follows is no lie. It really began ten years ago, when I was between ten or fifteen years old, at my best guess. That was when my mother died."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I also lost my mother when I was young," Varric blurted in sheer reflex. "What I mean is… I understand what it's like for a parent not to be there."
"A comparison that would do your mother a disservice, I'm certain," Aaron said flatly. "Suffice to say, my mother was a lost cause, but she was all I had at the time. After she was killed, I hadn't an ally in the world. Thus, I sought to escape from those who would kill me as well, and descended far into the Deep Roads, where no one else could find me."
Varric really didn't like where this story was going. Varric had learned far too well that things discovered down in the Deep Roads should stay in the Deep Roads. He struggled to keep his breathing level and his expression controlled as memories of Bartrand and the Idol resurfaced. "How did you survive?"
"I found a thaig. It was sealed and accessible only to someone with my… particular talents. Dunammar is its name." Aaron said, his voice heavy with an emotion that was difficult to identify. "Dunammar was once the seat of the Shaperate throughout the entire Dwarven Empire, lost during the First Blight. They were trapped, cut off on all sides, and… they chose to seal their thaig and die on their own terms rather than be killed by the darkspawn. There I found the Archive, the great ziggurat where the memories of great men and women were stored. Centuries of scholars, artists, heroes, philosophers, Paragons—the library was immense and diverse. Their experiences were all immortalized into the Memories, transferred into the living Stone itself by Lyrium. The Memories allow you to experience events in their lives as if you were actually there. I… don't think I could have survived the isolation for so many years without the Memories to prevent me from going mad."
Well, shit. I guess that's how Aaron knows ancient dwarven phrases, and why he's so weird around other people, Varric realized. He still hadn't the slightest clue what Aaron was, but this explained a number of Aaron's oddities.
"So the reason you don't have any idea of what happened during the last thousand years is because… because you spent the last ten years stuck living inside this ancient library?" Varric said, having difficulty accepting the concept. It was hard to imagine something more depressing than an orphan growing up alone in a dark, quiet tomb, with only the memories of the dead to keep him company. Varric's voice of reason, which sounded just like Aveline, was telling him that someone in those circumstances really ought to have gone insane or died years ago. Either Aaron was lying, or he wasn't quite as sane as he believed. At least Memories were more mentally benign than Lyrium idols. Probably.
"I was never trapped in Dunammar. I wanted to be there," Aaron said with a strange, desperate fervor that gave Varric little reassurance as to Aaron's sanity.
"That place—I cannot adequately describe it. The Memories showed me new realms and ideas and feelings I never knew existed, never even imagined. You cannot know what it is like to delve deep into the Memories, not until you have done it yourself. Those beautiful works, they are like doorways that take you back in time, to places filled with vibrance and life. Dunammar's memories were all perfectly preserved… but… their hopes for the future, their struggles, their lives, it all came to naught in the end." Aaron said, his whole body shaking with emotion as he balled his hands into fists. Judging from his rough voice and ragged, irregular gasps of breath, he was probably crying behind that concealing helmet. "They are forgotten, like they never—like they never even existed. I never wanted to leave, but I couldn't just let Dunammar… end like that."
Even after the calamity of the last few days, the emotional reaction came as a total shock to Varric. Aaron had remained calm and focused, even aloof, when he'd been dealing with the Breach, but now… It had been such a long time since Varric had truly felt the loss of what his people once had, or allowed himself to feel it. Seeing Aaron's unguarded reaction like this brought back that awful pang of loss, and he could feel his own eyes start to sting in empathy.
As he struggled to keep his composure, Varric finally recognized the emotion he was seeing in Aaron. It was the same feeling of terrible loss and regret that motivated Merrill and the other Dalish, the tragedy of lost history. Varric knew firsthand what those feelings could drive someone to do, how losing a culture could be felt as keenly as the loss of a relative. And if Aaron's strange, sad tale was true, this Archive was the only thing he had to cling to—unlike the Dalish, who at least had each other. It was no wonder that learning the Surface's history came as a demoralizing blow to him. Aaron had come to the Surface to save an extinct culture, only to become embroiled in the latest in a long line of catastrophes, and discover that the same extinctions had been happening on the Surface as well.
Varric stood silently, not looking at Aaron as he fought to get himself under control. Finally, Aaron's breath evened out, and Varric ventured to speak again.
"I don't understand, though… why did you originally want to go to the Grey Wardens with this? Why tell me? Just because I'm a dwarf? I don't speak for any dwarves other than myself. Isn't this something the Legion of the Dead or the Assembly should handle?" Varric asked.
"No. I believed the Grey Wardens would be instrumental in helping to disseminate what I found in Dunammar. I had hoped they could even help reclaim the thaig, restore it to life once again like they did Kal'Hirol… it was naïve, I know, but I had no other choice. I knew certain Wardens might have listened to me, but the Deshyrs of Orzammar and their so-called Shapers would have preferred Dunammar to stay buried for political reasons. Even if that weren't the case, they would not have suffered my presence." Aaron said bitterly. "Now, with the Wardens gone and having learned of the state of the Surface world, I am starting to believe that even were it shared, the wisdom of Dunammar will fall upon deaf ears."
The thing was, Aaron was probably right about how Orzammar would react to that news, and its messenger. Varric clamped down on his steadily rising anger at the tradition-bound Orzammar dwarves—an old habit at this point—and tried for diplomacy. "Okay, so maybe Orzammar might not greet this Archive with open arms, but the Surface isn't a lost cause. I know things seemed pretty bleak on the Surface, even before the Breach, but with what happened during the Fifth Blight and with the potential of this Inquisition, I think we've reached a turning point. The people behind it, the Divine and everyone else, they really are good people trying to make things better. You may not agree with their politics, but—"
"Don't misunderstand me," Aaron interrupted. "I know that not the entirety of the Surface is lost. The Grey Wardens are an ideal example, but I've also read of Divine Justinia's reform policies. I know that the Inquisition's mission is ethical and just. Promoting the rights of the meager and oppressed, trying to rein in the excesses of the corrupt and powerful… it would be cliché, if only it weren't so sadly necessary."
That was certainly the first time Varric had heard it put that way. Most people considered such ideals to be hopelessly naïve and unrealistic at best, or raving radicalism at worst. Was Aaron's—or Dunammar's—perspective really that different? Or had Orzammar really changed more than the traditionalists wanted to admit?
"So if you agree with them, then what's the problem?" Varric said, feeling a familiar sense of righteous zeal light up within him. "Even if it's far from certain we'll succeed, we need to try anyway. There are good people out there suffering, and we can't just stand by when we can help stop it."
"I know," Aaron said, his voice gone quiet and broken, his head and shoulders slumping. "I know all of that. But I'm… I am not the hero they think I am. I can never be the hero, the Paragon I wish I could be. I can't even show my face to them, Varric. Nor to you. If I tried to help, I would just end up condemning those who trusted me. Everything I touched would turn to ash."
Varric was so stunned by the hopelessness and despair in Aaron's voice that, for a few moments, he was at a loss for what to say.
"Then forget the past. It doesn't matter what you are now. Become that hero." Varric said fervently. "Look, no one is born a hero. I fought by the side of Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, and let me tell you, she wasn't a hero when I first laid eyes on her. She was just another refugee who killed things for money. People become heroes by stepping up when it seems like no one else could or would. You were hardly a perfect hero when you sealed the Breach before. You were a shambling wreck and a fugitive maleficar! Pretty much everyone wanted your head on a stick! That didn't stop you then, so why give up now that people actually like you? Trust me, Fluffy, I know potential when I see it. Whatever kind of resolve it is that pushes some people to get mixed up in crazy shit, you've got it. For better or worse."
Aaron straightened slightly. "You're right. Of course you're right… The Paragons would have said the same thing. The chances of success may be remote, but failure is certain if I do not even try. There is only one path forward, and that won't change for me agonizing over it. How strange that I needed to hear you say it, when I knew it all along… Thank you, Varric, for helping me face the truth."
Varric smiled. If you asked Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden whether they had a choice, they probably would have said no, too. But they did make that choice, and they did do what they thought was right. People like that only see the choices between different actions, but most people choose to do nothing at all.
"Speaking of heroism, Cassandra thinks you're due for an appearance to reassure the masses that you're still alive. They could really use some encouragement, you know…" Varric said, letting the bait hang.
"I suppose I'll go, then. It isn't fair to deny false hope to these pilgrims, even if it feels like lying…" Aaron said with a sigh.
"I'll go with you," Varric said hastily. "Biggest lesson on how to be a hero: you don't have to face this alone. Hawke and the Hero of Ferelden would have gotten nowhere by themselves, and you're no different. I know public appearances can be unnerving for some people, but you can let me handle most of the talking and whatnot. Or, better yet, just keep talking to me, and people won't try to bother you."
Aaron relaxed slightly. "Thank you. Truly. I… never expected to find such an ally."
Varric waved a hand. "Ally? Please. We fought a Pride demon together. That makes us friends, Fluffy."
A second too late, Varric realized the significance of what he'd just said. He had intended it to just be casual banter, but Aaron had probably never had a living friend in his entire life. There was no telling what Varric was getting into with a deeply troubled and quite possibly possessed apostate that was obsessed with dwarves and literally held the power to save or ruin the world.
Well, in for a copper, in for a crown.
Cassandra's eyes widened when she caught sight of Varric and Aaron emerging from the chantry. Aaron had cast back his hood and furred mantle again, exposing his gleaming blue-silver armor to the sunlight. Varric strutted along beside Aaron, half as tall and taking three steps for his every one, yet he still managed to look dignified and smug as he surveyed the small crowd that was gathering around the front of the chantry, before lighting his gaze on her.
"Why, hello again, Seeker," Varric said with airy superiority. "I'm glad you could join us for this little ceremony."
Of course, the fact that she was waiting on him and not the other way around went unsaid. The lengths Varric went to for the sake of annoying her truly boggled the mind.
Cassandra took a deep breath and inclined her head slightly to Aaron. "Thank you for coming. I know you dislike crowds, but it is important that we be seen as unified in our cause."
Aaron nodded, his head tracking over the various people gathering. "I think I'll be fine, as long as I am not expected to speak."
Varric chuckled as if Aaron was joking. "That's the spirit, Fluffy. You already look the part, so no need for fancy speeches. Let the closed-up Breach do the talking. Reminds me of this time when Hawke and I…"
Cassandra listened with increasing skepticism as Varric launched into a wildly implausible story about a short toast at a Wintersend party which ultimately resulted in a usurer's vault mysteriously emptying and half the Kirkwall alienage celebrating in the streets.
When did Varric become so genial with Aaron? Cassandra wondered.
For his part, Aaron seemed content to let Varric spin fantastical tales about his adventures. Cassandra found herself relaxing in their presence. The fact that Aaron also enjoyed Varric's stories normalized him somewhat, and put her more at ease. Unbidden, the thought occurred to Cassandra to introduce him to Swords and Shields, just to see his reaction, before Cassandra violently purged the notion from her mind, blushing furiously.
"Ah! Ser Aaron, Lady Cassandra!" Josephine called out from the growing crowd, interrupting the story. She slowly picked her way towards them, trying to avoid getting mud on her shoes or slipping on the half-frozen slush. She stopped before Aaron and somehow gave a perfect, sweeping curtsy despite holding her heavy, cumbersome writing board.
"It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Ser Aaron," Josephine said with an oddly feral glint to her eyes. "I am Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador of the Inquisition."
To Cassandra's immense surprise, Aaron returned her curtsy with a stiff, rather antiquated formal bow. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Ambassador. I am relieved to know that the Inquisition has diplomatic aims. As with the Blight, building alliances should prove vital to resolving this crisis."
Josephine gave Aaron a look of surprise and frank respect. "Thank you, that is gratifying to hear. At times, it feels like few people appreciate the art. Indeed, there is something that you could do that would help me immensely. You see, in conducting diplomacy, openness and honesty are the key to formulating a—"
"That's quite enough, Josie," Leliana said, detaching from a nearby group of scouts that had probably been listening in the entire time. She swiftly glided over to lay a hand on Josephine's ruffled shoulder. "We should respect Aaron's request for privacy. I will provide you with all the information you need to know, so please don't pester him for details he isn't willing to share."
Even Cassandra could tell from her tone that Leliana wasn't affording Josephine the option to press the point, but Josephine was nothing if not persistent.
"Leliana, I can only stall the nobles for so long!" Josephine said firmly. "I need to know something about Aaron's background! His species, at the very least!"
At that, she gave Aaron an expectant look.
"Do not ask and I shall tell no lies," Aaron said reluctantly.
Josephine looked offended for an instant before hiding the reaction, then looked to Leliana, who shook her head warningly. "As I said before, he is just a wandering apostate with no land or titles, Josie, and that's all you or the nobility really need to know."
Josephine's polite smile turned very brittle. "I… see. When royal missives from kings and queens come flooding in, demanding to know more about the Knight of Andraste, I'll just… try to change the subject, I suppose."
An awkward silence descended on the group. Neither Aaron nor Leliana seemed inclined to respond.
"Great," Varric said loudly, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Anyway, where's Curly? We need to get this flag unfurled already…"
After the symbolic dedication of Haven to the Inquisition was complete, Cassandra cornered Aaron before he could slip back into the dungeons.
"Come with me, Aaron." Cassandra said, beckoning him as she walked down the road through Haven.
Aaron followed two steps behind.
"May I ask where we're going?" Aaron finally asked as they passed under the front gates.
"Tomorrow, the Inquisition will be bringing you into uncontrolled territory in the Hinterlands to rendezvous with Revered Mother Giselle, who is assisting refugees. We will certainly see rifts and battle along the way, and I have no idea what your combat capabilities are. So I am taking you to the sparring grounds to find out." Cassandra explained patiently.
Aaron's stride broke for a step or two, then he caught up and walked beside her as she made it to the racks of training weapons sitting outside a tent near the sparring area. "Is sparring against me really necessa—"
"Yes. If nothing else, we need to keep you sharp." Cassandra said, picking up a blunted training sword from the rack and tossing it at Aaron.
Aaron's hand snatched out and caught the weapon. He then held it at arm's length, radiating reluctance. "If we have reached the point where I'm forced to do battle, then something has gone terribly wrong. I'm the only one that can seal rifts, I should be kept as far from the fighting as possible. There is no margin for error."
Cassandra put some shove into it as she thrust a wooden shield into his other hand. If Aaron thought she would allow this cowardice, then he was sorely mistaken. "That is not practical, and you know it. The Inquisition will be spread thin as it is, for the rifts are scattered across much of Thedas. The longer we take to seal each rift, the more demons come into our world to wreak havoc. Even if we could afford the time and resources to secure each rift before your arrival, demons will certainly appear as you try to close the rift, so you must be able to defend yourself."
"Fair enough," Aaron allowed. "Though I still think we should refrain from reckless conflicts whenever possible. I hope you don't expect me to be sporting or honorable like some nobleman in a duel. There is no such thing as an unfair advantage when the world is literally at stake."
"That is true, but it is still better to train you to be able to defend yourself and never use the skills, than to not train and end up needing them. Who knows what demons or assassins may strike when there is no one else to protect you? You are a target, and not all fights will be on the terms we choose." Cassandra pressed.
Aaron sighed. "I cannot deny the logic of your argument, even if I had hoped to avoid fighting if I could. What tricks I do have, I would rather keep in reserve."
"Keep your tricks," Cassandra said dismissively. "They say you were found with an axe, not a mage's staff, so show me the limits of your martial skills."
Aaron hefted the dull sword, waving it gracelessly. "I am… unaccustomed to using this kind of weapon."
"Evidently." Cassandra said, biting back a harsher comment about his ineptitude.
"I am experienced with polearms," Aaron said defensively. "When I don't have a weapon, I fight unarmed or use my magic. It has served me well thus far against the beasts I encounter."
"Fighting people is an entirely different thing," Cassandra said, her skepticism growing. "Are you telling me you have no experience fighting armed opponents?"
"Only darkspawn." Aaron said, setting down the sword and shield and hefting a wooden sparring maul with a small head and blunted ends. He held it with practiced skill, sliding his hands into balanced positions and swinging it experimentally.
Cassandra rubbed at her growing headache. "Darkspawn are untrained beasts that fight with no intellect or skill. They barely count as armed opponents. Do you have no formal training?"
"My only teacher has been much experience." Aaron said flatly.
"So, no." Cassandra sighed, picking up a sword of her own and a round wooden shield. "I suppose we'll have to start at the beginning, then. You doubtless have many bad habits we need to break. But before we do that, I need to see what they are. Come, let us spar. The one who remains standing will be the victor."
Cassandra led Aaron to the loose ring of trampled earth that constituted the sparring grounds, and almost immediately, all nearby activity ceased. An excited murmur arose as soldiers, messengers, pages, clergy, and random bystanders all stopped what they were doing to gather around the two.
Cassandra smiled slightly as she brought up her shield and took a proper stance, ready to face Aaron in mock battle. No matter how many times she fought, the thrill of anticipation remained the same. Their audience only raised the stakes.
A fight between one of the elite Seekers of Truth and the Knight of Andraste was going to end up extremely embarrassing for one of them, that was certain, as the outcome of this match would probably circulate through half of Thedas before nightfall. Reputations and expectations could be hypocritical things—no doubt, both of them were expected to win, and anything less would be seen as a disappointment.
"I am ready. Let us begin." Cassandra said, slowly edging closer into Aaron's reach.
Aaron straightened from his usual slouch, resting his maul across his broad shoulders in a casually intimidating fashion. "Very well. I warn you, Seeker. I am slow to my wrath, but when I fight, I fight to win."
Cassandra didn't bother answering that. He was confident, probably because he weighed as much as two or three of her. But Cassandra had crushed too many condescending egos to count, so she wasn't intimidated. Win or lose, Cassandra was not going to let Aaron out of the ring without bruises to teach him not to underestimate the Right Hand of the Divine.
Cassandra focused, went still, and then let her fury burst forth like a dam breaking. With a single movement, she planted her back foot into the icy ground, twisted with her entire body so violently her bones and ligaments popped, and thrust her sword directly at Aaron's stomach.
Aaron was big and heavy, and that meant that even if he were fast as well, he wouldn't be able to dodge as nimbly as if he were fast and small. Still, his reaction time was excellent as he flinched to the side to deflect the main force of the thrust, and immediately pressed forward to counterattack with the maul.
Cassandra's shield turned the heavy blow, and her blade was already whipping to the side in a feint, then changed direction instantly to smack him across the shoulder. Either his weapon was too slow for him to properly parry, or he simply had no concept of blocking or guarding, because he pressed the attack with no heed for his own defense. She punished him for it, deflecting his blows and striking again and again when his attacks left him open.
Aaron rushed her, and she nimbly sidestepped him like he was a charging bull, scoring a hit on his ribs as he passed. Aaron pivoted with impressive speed and Cassandra met him once again, using her shield to pin his weapon before he could swing, and bringing his advance to a halt. She could tell that he was startled by her sheer power—most were. Thanks to her training and Seeker abilities, Cassandra was far stronger than she appeared, probably about as strong as Aaron himself, even if he could probably overwhelm her with sheer weight alone.
Aaron suddenly shifted as his armored boot came up in a swift, brutal kick, breaking Cassandra's lock and driving the air from her lungs. She disengaged, fighting to regain her breath, her heart hammering in her chest.
Aaron lunged after her, attacking as relentlessly as a mad mabari. Cassandra recovered what stamina she could, marveling at the sheer violence of Aaron's attacks. He fought vicious, fast, and dirty, which was the opposite of what she had expected. With his heavy armor and cautious personality, she would have thought he favored a slow and defensive style.
Cassandra finally saw a weakness as Aaron brought the hammer back for a big swing, and struck. But instead of trying to block, Aaron took the hit on his armor and rapidly twisted his arms, sending the end of the hammer swinging towards Cassandra's head.
That opening was a trap! Cassandra thought. She brought up her shield, but the side angle didn't have the leverage to take the strike entirely, and then her helmet was ringing and she was staggering to the side from the force of the blow.
Cassandra recovered her senses quickly enough to leap back from the swing that followed, bringing her shield up again.
Aaron used her dodge to take advantage of his greater reach, and swung the hammer in broader arcs, pressing her back even further. He was lengthening the space between them, a common and deadly-effective tactic for two-handed wielders.
However, a great deal of pain and fighting experience had taught Cassandra that extending their reach could easily signal their attacks and put them off-balance.
Cassandra waited for the hammer to arc back for another swing, and she closed the distance with a lunge, keeping her sword and shield held straight in front of her. She was forced to abort her charge and dance back as he swiped with the end of the hammer again. Truly, his reach was incredible. It wasn't just his very tall stature—from the way he moved, he could extend his weapon much further than Cassandra would have believed possible, and yet she still suspected he was somehow keeping a little extra distance in reserve.
Cassandra jumped back to avoid the hammer as it swung in a sweeping uppercut that could have shattered kneecaps. Again, Aaron capitalized on the position of his weapon, and instead of slowly swinging the head back down, he employed the opposite end, lunging forward and jabbing it down in a powerful pommel-strike.
Cassandra expertly lowered and angled her shield, and the shaft deflected, but not before causing something to crack ominously in her shield. Her sword lashed out and hit Aaron's gauntleted hand, even as it was still moving. The blow was not hard enough to dent armor or break fingers, but it was enough to interrupt his swing. Cassandra stepped further in so he couldn't bring the maul to bear, but was stunned when Aaron actually let go of his weapon with his left hand, which darted out like a viper and grabbed her sword arm.
Aaron was strong in general, but his grip strength was absolutely absurd. She could feel the crushing pressure even through her steel vambrace. Cassandra immediately tried a maneuver that could break almost any grab with simple leverage, and though she managed to briefly overpower Aaron's whole arm, making him stumble slightly, his grip on her might as well have been a shackle. She'd sooner snap her bones like a twig than break his hold.
Before Cassandra could overcome her surprise and break free, Aaron's iron grip twisted, and the sword was ripped from her hand, to the cheers of the onlooking crowd. It fell to the ground several feet away. Aaron then hauled on Cassandra's arm, and for a moment she was afraid he was going to strike her with the maul in his right hand, but as he continued pulling, she realized that he intended to use his greater weight to throw her to the ground and win the match.
Going against her instinct to pull against him, Cassandra instead pushed herself along with him. As the resistance vanished, Aaron overcompensated and was wrenched off-balance, and Cassandra used their combined pull to punch the metal boss of her shield directly into Aaron's visored face, the blow connecting with a tremendous clang and the collective gasps of the crowd. The weakened wood in the right half of the of the shield shattered, and Cassandra's left arm immediately went numb from the impact, but her right arm was suddenly free from Aaron's grip.
Aaron staggered back heavily, and Cassandra pressed forward through the throbbing pain, keeping her balance low and raining heavy blows with the shield's metal boss in her left hand and heavy punches with her armored right to keep Aaron from regaining his balance. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Aaron's armored boot slip on the muddy ground, and she shoved him mightily with her shield, then kicked out his leg from under him. Aaron fell to the ground with a spectacular crash of armor and a whooshing exhalation of breath.
Cassandra felt a surge of fierce exultation, as she stood over Aaron's fallen body. Bruised knuckles and getting bashed in the helmet was well worth the payback.
Cassandra took off her helmet, feeling the cold wind blow through hair that was damp with sweat. "I also fight to win," she said with a smile.
The gathered crowd cheered thunderously. The victory felt like the Maker had parted the clouds and sent a sunbeam to fall upon her. Warm, bright, and triumphant.
Before her ego could get too out of control, Cassandra remembered to be a gracious victor and offered her hand to Aaron, and, after a moment's hesitation, he took it and she helped him up. "Are you injured?" she asked.
"Only my pride. You are amazingly skilled," Aaron wheezed, sounding genuinely impressed. "And incredibly strong as well. I must confess, I am surprised that I lost that match. I did not hold back, and I thought I had won when I disarmed you."
"A warrior isn't truly disarmed unless you cut off her arms, and her legs for good measure," Cassandra said sagely.
Aaron nodded. "I will certainly remember that lesson. Now are you satisfied with my performance?"
"Your guard is all but nonexistent. If you can do nothing but recklessly attack, you will die in a fight against a skilled opponent," Cassandra said bluntly. Then, she decided to assuage Aaron's confidence a bit. It wouldn't do to be a sore winner. "However, you were quicker than I expected, and quite skilled with your weapon. That's good. We can work with that."
Aaron gave her a small bow. "I look forward to learning from you, Seeker."
Cassandra quirked an eyebrow at him. "I'm curious, though. Why didn't you use any of your magic? I can nullify it, but it still might have helped you before I got the opportunity. Most mages reach for their magic without even thinking."
Aaron idly straightened the bear pelt over his mantle. "In truth, my combat magic is simple and crude, and I have little fine control over it. I have no spells that would have been particularly useful in that match, and it was safer not to try anything."
Cassandra could tell he was hiding something. Even if he was being honest, he wasn't telling the whole truth, but she nodded in agreement anyway. Perhaps she would try to gain his trust after all, like Varric had said. "I thank you for it. We will have to train with it later, however. It will help prepare you for facing rogue templars. But first, let me give you some training exercises and stances. Your footwork is atrocious."
Cassandra went through a more formalized training regime with Aaron, who had difficulty following her spoken instructions yet displayed an exceptional skill at watching her movements and mimicking them. As the sun began dipping further towards the mountains, Cassandra retired for the day. She soon found herself sleepless in bed, dwelling on Aaron's magical abilities.
Cassandra was almost glad that Aaron's magical talents were poor and untrained, assuming he was being truthful about them. The thought of powerful mages being heavily armored and using a warrior's skills with any degree of proficiency on top of their natural abilities was enough to chill anyone's blood. Even lightly-armored knight-enchanters with melee skills were nightmarish enough as it was. Warrior-mages seemed improper on some level, like cheating, though Cassandra scarcely believed the world was fair. But rather than mastering both skills, Aaron had clearly focused much more effort into training as a warrior. If there was any justice in the world, that meant he was sacrificing magical proficiency, or compensating for having little magic to begin with. Was his magic only useful for escaping? It seemed plausible, it was common for hedge mages to manifest one ability and one ability alone.
Still, no matter how much heartburn the idea gave her, it would be better for everyone if Aaron were trained in magic as well as conventional fighting. When all else failed, there would be no such thing as an unfair advantage when it came to keeping the one who could seal rifts alive. Aaron was right about that much, she'd grant him. Solas seemed as good a tutor as any. His mastery was obvious. She would have to ask him for his aid once again, it seemed. Perhaps he could help train Aaron as they traveled to the Hinterlands.
She really shouldn't feel anxious making Aaron stronger. Aaron was on their side, ostensibly. Besides, he wasn't the only one holding back the full extent of their abilities. No matter how well she and Solas trained him, the fact remained that he was a mage, and she was a Seeker of Truth. Those abilities gave her an enormous advantage, if it ever came down to a real fight between them.
The thought reminded Cassandra of the Vigil she had endured to gain her formidable powers, and that memory, in turn, led her to a dreamless sleep at last.
A/N
Phew! That was a big chapter, over eight thousand words. I will try to keep them shorter going forward, and compensate by releasing them more quickly. I think that a quicker update schedule would be more appreciated than longer chapters. Thanks for reading, and please, help me improve the story by letting me know what you like and what you don't in the reviews!