Chapter Text
“Stupid.” Cassandra spat out. “Stupid, careless, brainless, oaf of a man.” She huffed out. “I tell him to wait just a moment, not to rush in by himself, and what does he do? The stupid bastard runs right in and nearly gets himself killed.” Cassandra growled.
“I can hear you, you know.” A strained voice sounded from beside her. Cassandra looked to her side, where the Herald was currently being half dragged by her and Solas. Varric had done his best to help, but his height made it difficult to keep the unsteady Herald on his feet.
“Oh I am aware, Herald , but you didn’t listen earlier, so I figured you wouldn’t be now.” The Seeker responded through a clenched jaw. She heard the faint chuckles of their companions and shot them both a look.
They’d come across a Venatori den while on the Storm Coast. The group had been out for days already when they came across the den. Cassandra had wanted to wait and watch them, but the Herald had gotten too close and the Venatori agents had been able to ambush them. Logically speaking, it could have been a lot worse, but the fact they were having to drag the Herald through the rain towards the nearest camp wasn’t exactly what Cassandra would like to be doing at this moment.
“You should have stayed back, like I told you, and let one of us check it out.” Cassandra looked down at the bowed head of the human mage. With effort, he lifted his head.
“Couldn’t let one of you get hurt.” he murmured, eyes drooping from the exhaustion and blood loss. The Herald stumbled, losing the little footing he had on the wet gravel and mud. Cassandra planted her feet and tightened her grip, unwilling to drop the injured man. She could hear him panting, he was in pain. Solas quickly slid a hand under the Herald’s coat.
“Seeker, we need to hurry.” He looked her in the eye.
Cassandra cursed. “This will not feel good, Herald, but we need to get you back to camp, and fast.” she said, readjusting.
“What do you-” Before he could finish speaking, Cassandra ducked down and tucked her shoulder into the Herald’s hip, lifting him. She would have laughed at the squawk that came out of the man, but the pained grunt right after stopped her. Not for the first time, the Seeker was glad that the Herald was slimmer and about her height as well.
Once the Herald’s breathing evened once again, Cassandra began moving. She knew they weren’t far and was beyond thankful for the years of training she’d gone through, giving her the stamina and strength to carry a full grown man on her shoulders.
“You know, if you wanted the Seeker to sweep you off your feet, you could have just asked. Don’t think you needed to get stabbed.” Varric remarked from behind them.
“Ah, well, you know me, I’ve just got to make it difficult.” The Herald said, his voice sounding strained.
Cassandra sent a silent prayer to the Maker when the tents of their camp came into view. The soldier’s there looked beyond shocked to see her running towards them with the Herald over her shoulders. “Get a tent ready, we need medical supplies.” She called out. “NOW!” Cassandra bellowed when the soldier’s didn’t move. They quickly scrambled to get the supplies needed and one opened the flap of the largest tent as Cassandra reached it, Solas and Varric right behind her.
Carefully and gently, Solas helped Cassandra lower the injured man onto a low wooden table. Her stomach clenched at the lack of resistance from the Herald and the silence from him. Once he was settled, she was able to get a better look at him. His clothes were soaked through and his face was ashen, she could see on his side where blood had soaked through the light armor he wore. Cassandra tapped his face lightly, trying to rouse him. “Herald. Wake up.” There was no response. “Trevelyan.” she tried next, still nothing. Her heart was pounding now, what if he didn’t wake up?
“Ciaran?” She hated the emotion that choked her voice. But the use of his first name seemed to do the trick and the silver eyes of the Herald cracked open.
“First name basis already eh?” he breathed out, pale lips quirking in a small smile.
Cassandra would have responded had Varric not entered in the next moment, arms full of bandages with a scout just behind him carrying several different potions. The Seeker grounded herself. “We need to get his clothes off, the wet will only make things worse.” Solas said and Cassandra took that as her queue to leave. But as she turned, a hand caught her wrist.
She looked down at the Herald’s hand, gripped as tightly as he could with what little strength he currently had. “Don’t go far, can’t have you getting into any trouble without me.” he said, voice soft. Cassandra hesitated for a brief moment before placing her other hand on top of his.
“Of course not.” She gave the hand a squeeze before pulling away and stepping back into the rain. She entered the tent to the right, taking several deep breaths when she knew she was finally alone. Cassandra began stripping out of her waterlogged gear, freezing when she saw the amount of blood smeared down the back of her armor. She felt nauseous. She couldn’t stand looking at it. She took a deep breath and set to cleaning all of the Herald’s blood from her gear.
It was too long before she heard Solas’ voice from outside her tent.
“I am entering, Seeker.” She didn’t respond, and Solas entered. Cassandra’s eyes lowered to the elf mage’s hands, they were tinged with blood. “He’s resting, but he lost a lot of blood. We won’t be able to move for at least a few days.”
Cassandra sat down with a sigh. “Will he recover?” she asked, feeling her stomach knot.
“Yes, I believe so, as long as we keep the wound clean. However, as soon as he’s strong enough, I recommend we get back to Haven.” Solas replied. The Seeker looked up at him. The elven mage’s face was carefully passive, but she could see the lines of worry etched around his eyes.
Cassandra worried her bottom lip between her teeth before standing. “Thank you, Solas, for everything.”
A small smile graced Solas’ face, “You do not need to thank me, Seeker. The Herald has become a respected friend.” He said before leaving the tent.
Cassandra found herself feeling a little glad upon hearing Solas refer to the Herald as a friend. She knew there were many that felt uncomfortable around Ciaran, she had heard the Templar’s under their order say so a few times. It was… good that the Herald had someone he could feel comfortable around, someone he didn’t have to pretend for.
He was not at all what she was expecting when he finally awoke. She had been ready for a maniac at worst, at best a Kirkwall Copycat. She hadn’t been expecting the confusion or, more shockingly, the sadness in his eyes when she told him how many people had died. She had been thrown further off balance around the man when he didn’t even hesitate to throw himself in the line of fire to try and close the Rift.
The Herald dedicated himself so quickly and fully to the Inquisition. Cassandra knew that Leliana had been suspicious of his willingness to help, but a day later she told Cassandra there was no way the man had any ulterior motives. The Seeker had questioned her, asking what changed her mind so quickly and Leliana had smiled softly and motioned to the man in question helping some of the sisters sew clothes and tents for Inquisition soldiers. It had been rather amusing but the Herald proved to be surprisingly adept at sewing, silver eyes narrowed as his long, dexterous, fingers moved quickly and effectively as he sewed a patch onto a pair of pants.
And now, she was knelt on the ground, praying to The Maker to help the Herald. He was important, destined for something great. If there was one person who could close the rift and save all of Thedas, she knew it would be him.