Inquisitor Altair Trevelyan

Altair huffed and leaned back against the sacks and tipped his head towards the sky.

Altair rolled his wrist and twisted his arm testingly. It felt better, if not considerably more sore. He felt warm as well, despite the cold.

Krem pulled back quickly, concerned about touching too firmly. He refrained from massaging for a minute before returning to the task. He knew where not to touch now. 

Altair took that in with a silent consideration; his devotion was admirable, and honestly, Altair was impressed.

Krem was too focused on getting it right, on avoiding making Altair more miserable. A wrong move could easily manage it. 

Altair hissed when Krem pressed on a bruise a little too roughly. 

Krem smiled slightly. Well that was rather cocky, but it fit. And it wasn’t annoying like Bull could sometimes be. Or, perhaps, he was biased. Or he felt bad for the poor guy, all black and blue. 

Altair couldn’t help but let out a soft moan. The pressure on his beaten arms felt very nice, relaxing, and exactly like what he needed. He felt his arms turn to jelly, and he smiled slightly at the Lieutenant. 

“Probably would work harder to beat you again.” Krem laughed. It was an interesting image, at the very least. He definitely would enjoy meeting Altair’s sister. 

“There’s a lovely thing about bows, Krem,” he said, finally pulling away when Krem’s armour became too cold. “Which is that nothing gets close, if you’re good enough. And I am good enough.”

Krem chuckled a bit at that. He could well enough imagine what a fighter Altair’s sister might be. Potentially a terror, being more skilled at him. Likely. He wondered how amusing it would be to see them interact. 

“I doubt anything would impress her,” he said, smiling fondly. “If I surpassed her she’d only be jealous.” His sister was really such a child, but a good-hearted one. He couldn’t help worrying about her, but he knew she would be fine.

Krem paused, stilling. Last thing he needed was Altair’s head stuck to the armor from the chill. It was unlikely, but still a weird thought. Certainly would be a fun one to explain. 

Altair sighed.

He sighed and leaned his head against Krem’s shoulder, soothing the headache he felt rolling in from all the stress.

“Muscle memory. Get the movement stuck in your head. Keep adding on till your body knows what to do when. It takes a while, but not as long as broken bones.” 

“Fine,” he said, more exasperated than anything. “If you think that you can teach me, then you’re welcome to.” He pressed another bruise against Krem’s armour and honestly hoped he’d be able to move tomorrow.

Krem smiled slightly, without even realizing. It was good to be leaned on, figuratively and literally. It made him happy. Without him even realizing. 

Altair turned to look at him and gave him a look.

Krem looked at him for a little while, wheels turning. Yeah, if he continued being beaten like this, the Inquisitor would be a puddle of jelly attached to spaghetti limbs. He wouldn’t learn anything like this. 

Altair sighed, was he really that pathetic? He leaned back against Krem without really intending to; the chill of his armour brought relief to his aching muscles. 

Krem watched him for a moment, wondering if he should just move on and leave the Inquisitor alone. He would probably prefer that. But, then again, Krem wasn’t always the wisest. 

Altair hissed. Maker his armour was cold, but Andraste spare him, it felt so reliving. He left out a sigh and leaned back

Krem noticed the ice first as it hit the ground. It wasn’t like ice was a rarity, what with the mages and the snow all around Skyhold. But to have it being used in this manner was a little more rare. He could only guess the cause.

Altair groaned. Of course Krem of all people would be able to notice. He stooped to pick up his ice pack and resumed sitting against the sacks of Maker-knows-what. He pressed the pack to his arm. Really. Krem.

Sometimes being a Lieutenant was tough. While he enjoyed watching over the boys, making sure that everything was handled right and everything was survivable and missions kept coming in so they didn’t get bored, sometimes it was a little much. Only for a second, just when he was flashing back to the tailor’s son stuck in a tiny little house back in Tevinter. It demanded air. 

Altair coughed and straightened up, the icepack slipping from his arms. Krem really was everywhere, so it shouldn’t surprise him that Krem was here too.

Krem glanced at him for a moment. Well, that was unexpected. Or perhaps it was more of an observation; it wasn’t like Altair could go check on Bull without spotting Krem. Or get a drink. Or several other things. 

“Of course.” Altair smiled pleasantly and got the hell out of there with all the calm collected demeanor his life of nobility had afforded him. He didn’t know how it had become so awkward between them, especially since they had both woken up on the same bedroll the morning after. 

“What kind of idiot would ask the leader of the Inquisition to duel? Er, actually, don’t answer that.” He could probably list off twenty people off the top of his head. Not that any of them stood a chance winning. 

“Thanks,” he said. While still indignant, he knew Krem brought up a good point; Cassandra was not known for her gentleness, and Altair found himself more than a little concerned for his own safety. However, in the end, he couldn’t resist spending time with the Seeker.