Chapter Text
Velen shifts his right leg forward and put his Basketed Broadsword* in a hanging guard, with the blade angled diagonally across his torso, covering his body, with the tip of the blade pointing at the ground. From his extended position, he uses his elbow as a swivel point, to swing the sword around and strike the dummy on the neck. He pulls the sword back, the hilt reaching his left ear.
He swivels his arm out again, striking the other side of the dummy’s neck. He pulls the blade down in a draw cut against the dummy’s torso.
From there, he returns to hanging guard and puts distance between himself and the dummy.
He continues practicing guards and cuts for several minutes, his face set in a scowl that's been there since he arrived in Thedas.
Cassandra-who has also been training-approaches him, standing off to the side.
"For someone so new to swordsmanship, your technique is quite good," she says, motioning to the practice dummy.
Velen continues swinging, and does not look away from his training dummy. "Thanks."
After a few seconds, he realizes that she's still standing next to him.
"Did you need something?" he says, in a somewhat surly manner. He's doesn't know what she wants with him, and he doesn't really want to talk to her.
"I noticed that you spend much of your free time drilling your sword technique. If you'd like, I could help you with your training. I've been a swordswoman for most of my life, and have taught a few students of my own."
She's offering to help him?
He stops swinging his practice sword and turns to face Cassandra, eyes narrowed in confusion, deepening his ever present scowl further. "Are you sure? You seem like you're busy enough without adding a trainee to your list of duties."
"I set aside time for my drills at dawn," Cassandra replies.
The scowl on his face lessens. "Okay, at dawn, then."
"Until then. Good day." Cassandra takes her leave.
Well, that's new.
Is this Cassandra's way of apologizing?
He hopes it is. He's done his best to keep his anger in check, but there's only so much he can do himself.
Ever since he was a child, he would get that ADHD rage really bad, and he'd get so angry that he couldn't even move or speak. He hated that feeling, like being a prisoner in your own body. He hated it even more when the rage was just.
He learned to control it so he didn't become catatonic every time he got overly emotional. Though it's still obvious to anyone who looks at him when he’s angry. His face, already normally set in a frown, will deepen into a fierce scowl. He'll grow terse, and withdrawn. He usually just distracts himself with work, or by hitting a practice dummy.
Velen had been wary around Cassandra since arriving in Thedas. Well, he's been wary around everyone, but particularly her and Princess Stabbitha(a name that he will never let Leliana hear him say).
One moment, he was ordering takeout, the next, he was firmly face-planted in the snow.
In June.
In the middle of nowhere.
After wandering through the snowy mountainside for some indiscernible amount of time, he was met with the most aggressive shakedown in his life. The terrifying visage of Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast, whom he naïvely thought was his rescue. She smacked him a couple of times and almost shook the life out of him before he could even think to ask her what was going on.
Cassandra had accused him of being an apostate almost immediately(though he had no idea what she meant by it). He was too confused by the accusation to respond, and that's when he noticed the Breach.
In that moment, his world shattered. He'd realized where he was. This was Dragon Age. His brother would rant to him about it all the time.
It was only his prior experience with panic attacks that helped him curb the effects of that one.
After trying to explain to Leliana and The Seeker about where he came from, he was then informed that he was in a place called Haven, which was technically in Orlais(Josie later explained the intricacies of Orlais-Ferelden relations, which was interesting, but tedious), which was in a place called Thedas.
He then had the privilege of having to figure out how to explain that he's definitely not from their world and that he knew about certain future events, without sounding certifiably insane. He didn't quite convince anyone.
For a while(he can't quite remember), he was held in a cell.
And it was only his(mostly accurate) prediction of what would happen in Val Royeaux(it was a shitshow, his Brother's words exactly) that convinced them that he wasn't actually insane, or that he really had anything to do with the breach, because, really? If he was such a mastermind as to plan and execute the explosion at The Temple of Sacred Ashes, why would he then stumble right into their hands?
The 'Official' Story is that he has amnesia, and was ‘just another victim of the explosion.'
So, all that to say, while he understood their reactions to him, he still has a hard time really getting over it. Being put in a cell for something you didn't do was pretty impactful(who knew?). Not to mention the fact that he's probably never going to see his home again.
Mom is certainly devastated, and he knows his brother will take this especially hard, he-
Velen takes in a deep breath and lets the negative emotion wash away on his exhale. His face relaxes from his grimace and settles into its usual stolid frown. He starts practicing the different cuts with his broadsword. Migwetch, Migwetch, Migwetch.*
Harritt was kind enough to make his sword free of charge when he realized that Velen was the one who'd been found just outside of Haven. The man was more kind than his gruff exterior presented.
It'd been a couple weeks since he'd been released from the cell, and he's essentially had free rein of Haven. He spent his time doing chores, assisting with clinicals in the infirmary, avoiding social interaction, avoiding polite interrogation by Josephine and Leliana(not very well, mind you), and swinging his sword at a training dummy. Anything to take his mind off of home. He had no idea how to even begin to approach that. So, for now, beating a practice dummy until his arm goes numb will do.
After Val Royeaux, much of the inner circle and higher-ups had started to treat him with far less suspicion and some had even proven to be repentant. Frankly, he was just relieved that the proverbial knife had been lifted from his throat.
Although, Cullen apparently wanted nothing to do with him, which suited him just fine. His brother had painted quite the picture about Knight-Captain Rutherford, and he hadn't been wrong about Thedas so far.
Cassandra-for her part-started treating him like a person with a tragic story, rather than a criminal. They were civil with each other, at least. Which is much better than open hostility, like how it started.
Small victories, ya know?
Varric and the Herald(Mahanon, he corrects himself) were the only ones out of the supposed Inner Circle that he was on amicable(maybe even friendly) terms with.
Varric had tried to get him to open up a bit, to some success, but getting Velen out to socialize was difficult in the best of times.
Mahanon had asked about his home, but he couldn't speak about it without choking on tears. Mahanon dropped the subject fairly quickly.
He still didn’t know whether some god of mischief had it out for him, or if it was just some cruel twist of fate that brought him here.
Maybe it’s both.
Maybe it doesn't matter.
However he got here, he was ripped away from everything he knew. Everyone he knew.
With a growl, he slams a fist into the dummy’s head. It does nothing to stifle his anger. He just feels empty and fragile, ready to snap at a moment's notice, but helpless.
He hates that feeling the most.
Helplessness.
It makes him want to lash out. To break everything around him and yell and scream.
It makes him feel like an animal.
His arms drop and his gaze raises to the sky, closing his eyes. His breaths come in a slow and steady pattern. Eventually, the racing of his heart slows, and he feels like a person again.
He opens his eyes.
The sun is nearly at its apex in the sky. It won’t be long until noon.
Meaning that he has another shift at the infirmary soon. With a sigh, he sheathes his sword and makes his way back to his cabin.