A silly result of my trying to shorten the waiting for the game. This story that came to my mind of how an Inquisitor could meet Ser Cullen for the first time.

I intend this to be a series of one-shots, becuase it's still a long time before the game's out.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.

"Worst day ever"

„No! No, no, no! Don't run, please!" The thud of a horse's hooves against the dry ground picked up rapidly and the four long, slender legs kicked up yet another cloud of dust and dirt into her face. Anastasia stopped abruptly and choked on it, coughing into her fisted hand. Her eyes stung, and the bright sun and her own exhaustion didn't help either. "No, you stupid horse!" she yelled at the creature that ran off in a raspy voice. Her mouth was dry and her throat burned, begging her for the smallest gulp of water. "I can't return to Skyhold without you," she whimpered as her knees buckled and she fell on all four. Her dark brown hair fell like a veil around her sweated and dirty face, shadowing her face for the first time after what felt like eternity.

She sat on her heels and watched the vicious animal as it had stopped several hundred meters away from her. Head lowered, it started grazing the scarce grass on the parched plain. Anastasia whined softly, turning back to where a majestic fortress stood proudly in the distance. "Maker's mercy, couldn't you at least run towards it?"

With a sigh, she scrambled to her feet and slowly begun dragging herself forward, her eyes fixed on the horse. "Maker's breath, why?" she muttered under her breath. "Why did I leave my staff in the stables? I could have cast a glyph on it hours ago," she was talking irritably to herself, waving her hands in the air. "But no, I am not only clumsy, but stupidest mage ever! Stupid Inquisition, stupid horse and stupid me!" she kept on muttering. Then her voice changed, deepened slightly. "We're going to travel a lot. Learning to ride a horse is your first duty as a member of the Inquisition," she mimicked Cassandra's order. "I should have told her, that when my father couldn't teach me to ride a horse, no one can. True he didn't have much ti-" she stopped in a midsentence, alerted by a quiet sound. She straightened and looked around, her eyes squinting. There was a lone rider on the horizon. "Great, with my luck, it's a thief or a bandit of some kind."

Her breath caught in her throat when the rider slowed down the horse at first, and then changed its direction towards her. "Or worse," she mumbled when she realized where the rider had headed originally. "It's someone from Skyhold. Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing," Anastasia sighed, her shoulder slumping. With head hung in defeat, forced herself to follow her horse's steps slowly, not wanting to appear like she needed help. Though maybe it was already too late for that.

She felt even worse when the rider was close enough for her to discern details. "Right, a knight in shining armour on his mighty steed heading my way. Every girl's dream come true." Her voice lacked enthusiasm completely. She ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. Her eyebrows knitted together and her shoulder tensed as the rider brought his horse from gallop into trot as he neared, and finally eased the pace to a mere walk when he was close enough.

"Hey," Anastasia smiled at him nervously, playing with her hands as the horse finally halted to stop in front of her. She squinted as she looked up at him, the bright sun stinging in her eyes uncomfortably, making all of her face grimace.

The horse whinnied and the rider patted his neck reassuringly. "Nice armour," Anastasia mumbled, her eyes on the huge helmet shaped into a head of a lion. Her large brown orbs then slid onto the rich black fur covering his pauldrons and over the rest of the fancy armour. She was in Orlais after all.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, his voice muffled by the helmet. "Are you from Skyhold?" All she could see were his eyes. Their colour between blue and green, they watched her intently.

"Yes," Anastasia nodded, "and I'm…" she paused, turning her head to the horse she'd been chasing. She touched the back of her neck. "I'm in a need of help…I guess?" She pointed towards the troublesome animal. "I scared him off and he won't let me catch him to bring him back."

He turned his horse to where she had pointed. Quiet clinking filled the silence when he turned back to her again. She could also hear a huff of air as if he was…laughing? "Are you serious?" he asked and yes, there was an open amusement in his voice. He didn't wait for her answer – which was a good thing, because she didn't know what to say – and dismounted. Metal clanks accompanied the swift motion and she just wondered how he could move so quickly in that armour.

Wordlessly, he put the reins of his mount into her hands and headed towards the runaway horse.

"W-wait!" she called after him, clutching the leather reins tightly. "What if he runs off, too?"

"Shemeeck's a warhorse. He doesn't scare easily, don't worry," the knight said over his shoulder.

Anastasia made a soft sound, something between a nervous laugh and hopeless sigh, and turned to look at the horse. He lowered his head so their eyes were at the same level. She could see her pathetic self reflected in the black pits of his eyes. "Hey, boy," she smiled at him and touched his neck in what she hoped to be reassuring pat. "I hope he knows what he's doing," she added and couldn't suppress a nervous chuckle. Shemeeck stood unmoving, watching her with his calm, wise eyes. It was a little bit unnerving, so she focused on the knight, but she did press her cheek close to the side of the Shemeeck's head for comfort.

Her mouth fell open when the rider walked up to the problematic horse without much effort, reaching out to him with his arms first. "Huh," she breathed out, cocking her head. He seemed to be doing something about the saddle strap. "Oh, no, I'll never hear the end of this," she mumbled and felt her face burning with shame after he turned it around on the horse's back. "This is my worst day ever, Shemie," she mumbled hiding her face in the horse's rich mane. Then she grimaced and pulled away. "Ew, you smell. No wonder, with all the metal he put on you," she eyed the armour. "You're sweatier than I am. That's not very nice of him," she added and threw a reproachful look at the rider in question. He was already leading the other horse back.

She watched him approaching and with every step he took, she could feel her cheeks and neck burn more and more. When he finally stopped in front of her, her head was bent, her eyes dropped to the dusty ground under her feet. "Thank you, ser," she mumbled sheepishly.

"Did you put the saddle on?" he asked simply, freeing Shemeeck's reins from her white-knuckled hold.

"I've never done it before," she admitted. "They don't teach us that back in the…back home," she corrected herself. It wasn't exactly clever to advertise she was a mage. People distrusted her kind and she still needed his help to lead the horse back.

"Then you chose the worst horse to start with. This girl's not exactly a warhorse material," he said instead of mounting his Shemeeck like she expected. She gaped at him as he watched her through the slit in his helmet. The eyes were narrowed, but it was the good kind of narrowed gaze; he was smiling.

"Girl?" she repeated soundlessly. She slowly turned and dropped to a crouch. She hid her eyes after realizing she was really the stupidest mage on all Thedas and whined quietly. "Like falling from the sky wasn't enough!"

She heard him laugh. "Not your best day, huh?" When she looked up at him, he offered his hand to help her to her feet. She let him pull her up, avoiding his eyes. "No, it's not."

"Come on, let's get you up."

She laughed. "I was inept enough to put the saddle the wrong way and you think I know how to ride her?"

His eyes hardened beneath the helmet. And she just got the feeling this man wasn't used to people defying him. A memory of what happened to mages who talked back to a templar had her shoulder tense. "What do I do?" she asked quickly.

She felt stupid as he helped her into the saddle and even more when he actually had to put one of her feet into the stirrings; she had frozen as soon as she was up in fear the beast might ran amok again. Only after he climbed up his Shemeeck and took the reins she realized hers still hung down. Would she need to dismount in order to get them? She was afraid to reach out for them. Maybe she could ask him; climbing up and down didn't seem much of a problem to him despite all the extra weight he was wearing. "Uhm…" she started saying, but fell silent after he looked at her. He reached for the reins and kept them as he bid his horse to a walk with a soft command. The mare she sat on – how in Maker's mercy she missed the detail it was a she-horse she still couldn't understand – followed Shemeeck obediently. Her fingers curled in the mare's mane.

"So, do I want to know how you ended up out here?" he asked in a mild tone.

"It's a long story, ser," she mumbled.

He chuckled. "Don't be so stiff. Move with the horse."

"I'll fall if I move."

This time he sighed. "What are you doing in Skyhold exactly? Working in the stables?"

"Eh…heh, do I look like I work with horses?" she laughed mirthlessly. "Actually, no. I don't work in the fortress at all. I'm…in the Inquisition. Newest recruit," she smiled at him and the smile froze on her lips when his head snapped to her quickly. "There are things I am actually good at," she informed him with a slight frown.

The defiance in her voice amused Cullen to no end. From the look of her it was difficult to tell she was anything but this clumsy. "Why didn't the guards help you catch her?" he asked instead, smiling to himself as her expression changed.

The determined scowl was wiped off her face altogether and she chuckled. "They were busy laughing," she admitted and suddenly something on the other side of the deserted plain seemed to catch her attention. And he frowned under the helmet. "Laughing?" he asked, carefully keeping his emotion from his voice.

She made a subtle gesture with her hand and her posture changed all at once. Her tensed muscles relaxed. And just as she looked rigid and awkward on the top of the mare a second ago, it appeared like she gained some riding skill from the thin air now. She smiled to herself; not all spells required her staff. "Yeah, not that I blame them, mind you," she said, finally facing him. "You see, one of the stable boys was teaching me how to take care of them," she started saying, patting her horse's neck like she wasn't all stiff from fear of falling a minute ago. "I am not important enough to have someone do it for me, so I thought it could be useful. And I like animals, too. So, he helped me with the reins, but the saddle…" she paused and shook her head, her cheeks colouring slightly. "I thought I had it right. I said: Hey, that wasn't that hard!, and then slapped her rear." She made a quick gesture with her hand like she really was slapping someone.

She couldn't see Cullen quirk his eyebrows.

"She screamed and rose up on her hind legs and then she was outside the stables. I ran after her, screaming too and flailing my arms, which obviously scared her even more. We ran around the courtyard a few times and by the time she ran outside, the guards were leaning against their spears for support and I swear the one on the right side of the gate was crying from laughter."

"Interesting," he mumbled. "Here, we're almost there."

She blinked at him when he offered her the reins. She took them hesitantly. She started taking a breath to protest, but he mutely pointed at Skyhold not far from them. She nodded and hoped her agility spell was good enough to make her look like she actually knew what she was doing. She was about to heel the horse, but the mare had decided to simply follow the knight and sett off before she managed to move. The two horses walked slowly side by side as they sauntered up the slope towards the large gate with black and white flags hanging from the flagpole. Without a wind to fly them, it looked sad.

But Anastasia's attention was quickly focused elsewhere and she found herself gaping again.

As soon as they spotted them, the guards hauled themselves into attention. Hurriedly they fixed their armour and helmets, grasping their weapons and shields firmly. She could hear silent swear words coming from their way as well as metal on metal sounds. She paled. "Oh no," she mumbled. "Please, don't tell me you're someone important," she asked in a weak voice, her eyes desperately focused anywhere but on him.

"As you wish. I won't," Cullen smiled. His eyes watched the closer guardsman as they passed them by. And when they rode in the large courtyard, Anastasia could see that all the guards were standing straight.

With another quiet order he stopped the horse and hers halted, too. She followed suit when he dismounted, though she did cast a fleeting look towards the stables on the other side of the courtyard. She watched the knight grab both reins and shove them into hands of one of the guards standing at the gate from the inside. The one on the right, Anastasia noticed with a small smile. "Take care of them and report it when you're finished," he said simply and didn't even spare the guardsman a second look as he strode away in heavy steps, metal clinking and all.

Anastasia paid the guardsman a guilty smile and hurried away as well, but unlike the knight's her movements were utterly silent. In a loose shirt with a supple leather bodice over it and breeches she couldn't make much of a noise if she wanted, and she preferred it that way. Life in the Circle tower taught her that being invisible and inaudible was the wisest thing to do.

Her steps lead to a bucket of rain water so that she could wash her face at least before going through the hold itself to wash properly and change.

"Serrah Trevelyan! Serrah Trevelyan!" The elven stable boy ran towards her. "Your stick!" he shouted from the distance, showing her what he was holding and waving it above his head. She smiled and quickly dried her face against her sleeve. "Oh, thank you, my dear. But it's a staff, not a stick," she corrected the young elf when he handed it to her. As soon as her hand touched it, she let the magic flow through both her and the enchanted wood and the small stick glowed white as it elongated. The elf gasped and stared in disbelief at the white crystal that suddenly appeared on top of the staff and his eyes slid down the length of it as she stabbed the ground with its end. The razor sharp, silverite spearhead made a glass-like sound, but Anastasia knew this would neither hurt nor blunt its edge. She looked fondly at the staff, a parting gift from her father before he sent her off to the Circle. The crystal, now at her eye level, flashed white once more as she dispelled the agility spell. Se could feel a soft breeze wash over her harmlessly as she did.

She was holding an ordinary stick again when she spun towards the stairs leading up to the fortress and froze. That knight was standing at its top, stopped by the sound of a familiar name; he'd spent enough time in the Free Marches to recognize it. He'd taken off his helmet and his short, curly fair hair caught the afternoon's sun. She smiled at him when they eyes met, but then she made the mistake of focusing her gaze on the lion helmet under his arm. She made an involuntary step back and the smile froze on her lips when she noticed the gauntlets for the first time. He was a templar.

Yes, I am tired of heroes who are the best, the strongest, the mightest and all :D We all had to start somewhere, righ? Hence my Inquisitor is going to be a silly, little mage :)

Thank you for reading eveyone!