Broken Souls: Chapter 63

Chapter Sixty Three

"Knight Captain."

Cullen paused halfway through explaining a complicated shield block manoeuvre to his newest recruits and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes?"

The knight responsible for interrupting the lesson bowed respectfully, fist clenched over his breastplate. "Apologies, Knight Captain, but you have a visitor."

Waving over one of the lieutenants to continue the lesson, he shucked his hauberk and dumped the chain shirt and practise shield by the weapons rack. The relief from the weight and the heat was immediate and he rolled his shoulders in appreciation as he made his way over to the waiting Templar. "Well, I assume you have more to say than simply 'you have a visitor'. Why exactly am I being pulled away from training duties? And if the answer is anything less than 'yes ser, the Divine herself is here, ser' I will not be impressed."

"I would not have interrupted, ser, but the issue seemed urgent. He was quite… insistent that he been seen immediately."

Snatching up a towel from the railing that fenced in the training yard, Cullen wiped the sweat from his face before asking "Insistent?"

The knight noticeably grimaced before schooling his features again. "Aye, Captain. Demanded first to see the Knight Commander, and didn't take kindly to being told that she was not available for social calls just because the fancy took him. Given the Commander's preference for solitude, we thought it best for you to deal with him."

Cullen scowled as he ducked under the fence. More and more he was finding himself in charge of affairs that really should have been the Commander's jurisdiction; and yet more and more he was finding Meredith retreating into herself, leading by proxy through him. He didn't mind, not in the grand scheme of things when he was looking to be a Commander in his own right one day, but it did mean that occasional annoyances fell into his lap instead of hers. There was only one idiot in Kirkwall who'd be stupid enough to just invite himself into Meredith's office. "Where is he now?" he asked, throwing the towel over his shoulders.

"You… you don't want to know who it is, Captain?"

That gave him pause for a moment. "It is Garrett Hawke you're referring to, isn't it?"

"Oh, no Captain. It's Prince Vael- we have him waiting in your office under guard. He was quite agitated and we thought it best not to leave him alone in your private quarters."

Sebastian Vael? What in the Void could the Prince turned Brother want with the Knight Commander? "Has he said anything at all?" he asked, making his way towards the interior of the Keep with more purpose in his step.

"Not a lot, Captain, only that he insisted upon being allowed to speak to the Knight Commander immediately. He wouldn't explain why it was so urgent that he see her, or explain his reason for being so upset. He also refused to move on when we asked that he vacate the premises."

Cullen grimaced. "Very well then," he said, annoyed not for the first time about having his living quarters combined with his office space. He would have been grateful for five minutes to recover himself first so that he didn't smell like the inside of the barracks on a hot day, but he didn't really have grounds to complain. The space and privacy that was afforded to him as Captain was far superior to anything the other officers and senior Templars had to endure, and it provided him with ample opportunities for midnight trysts with Bethany that would otherwise be impossible.

Bethany. Since that day in the snow, he'd found his ability to resist her had worn away entirely; the first night that he'd awoken to find her creeping into his room had proven that, when he hadn't even made an attempt to send her away. Instead he'd welcomed her into his bed and into his arms, trying to hide every scream or sob of pleasure that she made, whispering with her until the small hours of the morning when dawn crept in close. It set a precedent, that night, and he was well and truly besotted with her now; he couldn't stay away from her even with the threats hanging over both of them. She had slowly wrapped herself around his heart, and had now reached the point where he could honestly confess that he cared more for her than he did for his duties. It was something that kept him awake long after she'd fallen asleep, curled against his side and her head resting on his chest.

He shook himself as he found his thoughts drifting to memories that were too intimate. It was perhaps not the most appropriate time to be thinking of her in that capacity, but it was hard to keep her out of his thoughts most of the time anyway. And on top of that, he couldn't forget the way that Vael had flirted with her and asked her to dance that fateful night so many years ago, that night at Hawke manor when he'd finally lost his senses and kissed her. Now the arrogant fool was in his quarters, demanding that the leaders of the Gallows drop everything immediately to see to him? How little respect did he have for them, for the tasks that occupied them every hour of every day, if he assumed that they would cater to his demanding entrance instantly? Cullen felt his fingers curling into fists at his sides, anger bubbling quietly through him; he took a deep breath and consciously relaxed his hands. It was hardly the time or the place to indulge in his petty dislike of the man. Just because Vael had a flexible approach towards his faith and had made bedroom eyes at Bethany was no reason to-

Stop it, man, or you'll ruin this before it's even begun. At least hear him out first.

There was a Templar standing to attention outside the door to his office. At his approach, the knight saluted smartly and headed off down the corridor, back to whatever post he'd been supervising prior to this interruption. Taking another calming breath- through clenched teeth, so not particularly calming- Cullen stepped into his quarters to find yet another Templar standing by the window while Vael sat in the chair before his desk.

To say the prince was agitated may have been an understatement; he was all but vibrating from the violently nervous energy he was putting out. Cullen considered himself relatively well acquainted with Vael, from the number of times their duties had coincided as representatives of the Chantry and the Templars respectively, and he had to admit that something must have shaken him badly if his appearance was anything to go by. Despite being a fully ordained Brother, Vael was always fastidiously thorough when it came to his personal grooming; Cullen doubted that he'd ever even seen him with a hair out of place… and yet here he was, hair wildly askew, dark circles under his eyes and his pretentious gold and white armour replaced with the simple robes of a Chantry Brother.

Robes that currently bore several tell-tale stains that could only be blood.

It was concerning enough to have him coming to a stop beside the desk. "Brother Vael," he said carefully, eying the bloodstains with trepidation. "Are you perhaps in need of the services of our healers?"

Sebastian was drumming nervously on the desk, and nodded jerkily to him in greeting. "Knight Captain," he said, ignoring the question, "your men have refused me the right to visit the Commander. I must speak with her on a matter of great urgency."

Cullen raised his eyebrows at that. "What matter could possibly be so urgent that you would disregard your own wellbeing in order to deliver a message?"

"Demons," Sebastian spat, fire gleaming in his eyes. His posture was rigid, his loathing evident even from a single word. "The first of the Maker's children watched across the Veil, And grew jealous of the life They could not feel, could not touch. In blackest envy-"

"Demons were born," Cullen finished for him. "I hope that you have not come simply to preach verses I am already well acquainted with, Vael." He nodded for the Templar still on duty to depart, taking the seat on the opposite side of the desk to his guest. As poorly timed as it was, his often overlooked sense of male vanity perked up in the knowledge that even if he did look terrible after a morning spent under the Kirkwall sun, at least he looked better than Vael did in that moment. It was petty, and it was a trivial thing compared to whatever had driven Sebastian in here, but he couldn't help but indulge himself for a moment. His ego couldn't allow him to relax entirely, knowing that this man had once been a contender for Bethany's affections; even if the chance of their ever having courted had been all but destroyed once she came to the Gallows, it was soothing to his pride to see a rival in such a poor state.     

Now if only he could drag Bethany in here and kiss her senseless in front of him, to let him know exactly where he stood in the pecking order… He shook his head violently to clear the possessive stupidity that had momentarily overtaken him. Just because Vael had danced and flirted nearly two years ago didn't make him a rival. And if he was to keep Bethany safe from Tranquility, he couldn't afford to be jealous over anyone, rivals or no. It was already so hard to keep his affection for her from showing at the best of times; he didn't need to get worked up over something that had happened a ridiculously long time ago.

Cullen ran a critical eye over him, taking in the shaking hands, slumped shoulders, and the colourful bruise that marked the side of his face. The bloodstains were particularly alarming. "You don't seem to be in the best of health at the moment," Cullen said dryly. "Is there a reason for your colourful appearance and your need to spout Eruditions? Where is your armour- or have you accepted your role in the Chantry and taken on the garb as well as the role of a Brother in truth now?"

"Don't speak to me as if I were an idiot, Captain!" he snapped. He ran a shaking hand through his hair, making the wild eyed look even worse. He relented for a moment, nodding jerkily towards him. "Apologies, Captain, but I have not had the most pleasant few days. My armour is damaged and in need of repair, not that I would be physically able to wear it at all. Nor do I trust any of your precious mages to heal me." His hand drifted to a spot high on his collarbone to rub absently, and Cullen tried not to let his alarm show when a fresh bloom of blood appeared on the robe. "I must speak with Meredith immediately. There may be innocent lives at stake here."

And now the difficulties began. "Knight Commander Meredith is not available to hear every little rumour and horror story that gets concocted in dark alleyways," Cullen said, keeping his expression bland to compensate for the scathing words. He didn't doubt that Vael thought his news to be extremely important, but his attitude rankled at him, the sense of entitlement that had clearly carried over from his days as a prince irking him more than a little. "You could quite easily have left your message with any one of my men, and it would have made its way to the appropriate person eventually."

Sebastian sat up straight, his blue eyes turning to ice. "Do not dismiss what I have to say so easily, Captain," he snarled.

Cullen leant back in his chair, refusing to acknowledge that he felt a certain satisfaction in baiting Vael so cruelly. "I am not dismissing your message, Vael," he said slowly, "only the manner in which it has been aired. We do not take kindly to those who treat our time as expendable, and your assumption that you can storm in here and demand to speak to a woman who answers only to the Grand Cleric of this city is more than a little insulting."

"Have you no respect for who I am? Does your precious Order think so poorly of one who serves the Maker as diligently as you yourself, one who is from a prestigious and faithful family, that you would dismiss me out of spite?"

He gritted his teeth. "We respect you and your family line to the extent that is required of us, and we acknowledge you as a Brother of the Chant, but other than that we have no interest in you, Vael." It felt remarkably satisfying to say that, even though he kept his features schooled to be dispassionate. "Please don't insult me by presuming you know my character. I do not care enough to be as petty as you accuse me."

The insult hardly seemed to faze him; perhaps it was because he was already far too worked up to begin with. "Well, perhaps you'll care once I inform you that there is a creature living beneath this city that is capable of fighting off a dozen Tevinter slavers at once, and enjoys the protection of none other than Garrett Hawke," Sebastian snapped, gesturing sharply by pointing at the desktop as if to indicate the location of the creature. "A demon, no less, that wears the shape of a woman."

Cullen stilled, careful enough not to let his interest show. "I'm listening," he said slowly.

Stiltedly, Sebastian began to tell him of the events of the last few days- the ill-fated outing down the coast, the attack by Tevinter hunters, his shock and horror when one of the women in their group was taken by a demon early in the piece.

"That should have been my first warning," Sebastian said, his agitation growing. The man hardly seemed able to keep still, fidgeting in the chair, tapping his fingers on the desk, gesturing wildly every now and then to illustrate his point. "It's not as if I have any knowledge of what depraved magics the Grey Warden have access to, but Tahlindra is no mage, and should not have fallen so easily to a demon, even in the presence of Magisters."

Cullen felt like his stomach was lined with stones; as he began to grasp what Sebastian's story was leading up to, several clues began to fall into place, niggling little things that had made no sense on their own but now that he had context began to offer something as tantalizing as it was horrible. "I did not know that she was a Grey Warden," he said carefully, seeing what he could glean from Sebastian.

The prince waved his hand as if the issue were unimportant. "From what I gather she served in Ferelden, but abandoned the order many years ago, long before her mage lover did."

So she most likely did not enjoy the neutrality of Warden protection that Anders did. Interesting. "Go on."

Sebastian continued the violent tale, speaking of being trapped with a dying demon that wore the shape of a woman, of learning just how easily the fiends within the Void could escape their prison through her. And he spoke of being rescued by Hawke and his motley collection of friends, only to find that Hawke not only knew of the abomination in their midst, but defended her existence with every inch of his being.

"She was nothing but a monster," he rasped. "There was no humanity left within her, and yet they were convinced she was no more dangerous than a child. And they refused to kill her, as any devout Andrastian would be compelled to by their faith."

Cullen was gripping the edge of the desk so fiercely that his fingers were cramping, but he kept his tone level as he said "Thank you, Brother Vael, for bringing us this news. We will act upon it with all due haste." He showed Vael out, smiling thinly at him as he continued to rant on about the evils of the two Grey Wardens and the threat they posed to the city.

"Bethany!" Cullen felt his heart lurch as the fiend vaulted straight towards her. Panic lent him speed that he didn't know he possessed and he was suddenly at her side, shoving her out of the way at the last second and taking the impact on his upraised shield. The shock from the blow staggered him, and this close he could see that the demon looked like no other that he had ever seen before; it still bore the features of the mage it had taken, the face and figure distinctly female despite the masculine voice.

He gave Sebastian his final thanks, cutting him off before he could get worked up again, and sent him on his way with the recommendation that he seek out a healer as soon as possible. His stomach churned as the pieces began to lay themselves out flat before him, telling him a story that he felt stupid to have missed for so long.

Stunned, and fighting the insane urge to comfort her, he said "Did you know the other mage? The demon?"

She shook her head. "She was just another patient. I suspected she was… I mean, I've never had training, so I can kind of tell when someone else is a mage, but I wasn't sure…" She trailed off miserably, her shoulders shaking as she fought back her tears.

Tahlindra Derron, ex Grey Warden and Tevinter slave, was more than just a woman- and there was one person who had known that and gone to every length to hide the truth. He felt like all the blood in his body was curdling, thickening and roiling until he felt so disgustingly ill that it was a wonder that he didn't pass out from it. He had never felt this level of pain before, this visceral horror as his brain struggled to come to terms with what this had to mean. For three years, this secret had fermented and she had kept it buried, lying time and time again whenever the subject had been broached. The depth of her betrayal was staggering…

Fighting to get himself under control, he staggered to the door and gestured for the attention of a Templar patrolling nearby.

"Fetch me Bethany Hawke."

***   

Bethany was in a class with some of the other senior mages, the extra tuition going a long way towards bridging the gap between what her father had been able to teach her and what was reasonably expected of a mage of her years. While her skills were in no way insignificant, there were a multitude of things that even after three years in the Circle eluded her. She had laughingly reached the conclusion years ago that her skills in the discipline of Entropy were woeful at best, and given that Arcane had been discovered after her father's death, she had never even encountered it until she'd been brought to the Gallows.

Thankfully she was no longer expected to grasp those schools of magic beyond the basics, and her tutors had determined that her talents lay in Elemental and Force magics. She'd spent the better part of the morning reading up on techniques for improving the execution and range of the Abyss class of spells, humming absently under her breath as she scribbled down notes.

She didn't look up when she heard the door open, for people came and went from the senior classes quite casually. It was never as regimented as the classes for the unHarrowed mages, so at first she thought nothing of it as she saw two Templars enter the room to join the three already on duty around the edge of the chamber. It was only when she became aware of the uneasy silence that had fallen over the room that she looked up- and saw Ser Agatha and Ser Thrask standing in front of her desk.    

"Miss Hawke," the female Templar said coolly, "you will accompany us immediately for questioning."

Bethany felt her blood run cold; she glanced around the room, her stomach sinking as she saw the way the other mages kept their eyes averted, and the way the Templars all kept their gaze on her with their hands on the hilt of their swords. "I…" She tried not to let her voice quiver. "Um, of course."

She stood, hiding her shakings hands in the voluminous swathes of fabric that made up her Circle robes. Her palms felt sweaty almost instantly, and she wiped them on as discreetly as she could over her hips. Thrask and Agatha waited for her to come around to their side of the desk before stepping into escort formation beside her. Even Thrask, whom she had come to recognise as always being willing to offer a smile to the mages around the Gallows, wore a severe expression and she was horrified to realise she could feel tears burning in her eyes.

They led her in silence through the hallways, neither of them feeling the need to explain the reasons for her being summoned. People stared as they passed, Templars and mages, children and adults alike. Bethany had to bite her lip to stop the tears from falling, desperate not to disgrace herself when who knew what was on the line.

She nearly sobbed in relief when they led her to Cullen's door; at the very least she knew she could count on him to explain the situation to her. He might even have called her in pre-emptively, to protect her from something; maybe Garrett had run off and annoyed the Templars again and her life was at risk.

The door was open, and Agatha stopped outside, clenching a hand over her breastplate as a sign of respect to Thrask as the senior Templar; she turned and marched off down the hallway, leaving Thrask and Bethany alone. He glanced at her, and she thought she could sense a hint of guilt in his eyes as he gestured for her to enter ahead of him.

It should have been a comfort, being in Cullen's room. The familiar scent, the familiar layout of furniture that she was so used to creeping around in the dark… but she couldn't find comfort when the man she loved had his back to her as she entered, and he didn't turn with an easy, gentle smile to reassure her. Something about his stance, his body language, set off her sixth sense and she felt her pulse skyrocket as panic surged through her.

"Miss Hawke is here for you, Captain," Thrask said, not looking at her as he handed her over to what felt like her doom.

"My thanks, Thrask," Cullen said, and Bethany felt a tear slip onto her cheek at the icy, impersonal way he spoke. Something had gone wrong- terribly, terribly wrong. Bethany knew she could hardly expect him to be the affectionate man that she loved in the middle of the day, when he had sent for her so publicly, but this… his voice was cold and dead, his shoulders were set like stone. There was something brittle in the air, as if the moment was about to splinter into a thousand jagged shards.

When Cullen turned around it was all she could do not to let out a sob at the glacial look in his eyes. "You may leave us now- I must speak with Miss Hawke alone."

Thrask finally chanced a look sideways at her, his expression softening minutely when he say the tears on her cheeks, before he bowed stiffly and exited, pulling the door closed behind him. The snick of the latch rang with a sense of finality.

Bethany couldn't bring herself to look at him, to see the bitterly hostile look on his face again, and closed her eyes, hoping it would be enough to keep the tears at bay. Something had gone terribly, utterly wrong. It had to be Garrett, but what could he possibly have done to make Cullen so angry? Her ridiculous brother could hardly be accused of being predictable, and the creativity of his mayhem knew no bounds most days, but for Cullen to look like that…

"Tell me about Tahlindra Derron."

His words snapped her out of her frantic musings, and she opened her eyes to stare at the floor near his feet. "What?" she asked shakily, feeling the world tilt sideways as she realised there was only one reason why he could possibly be asking about Tahlie. "Why?"

"I don't have to explain why I need answers from you, Miss Hawke." She flinched at his scathing tone, and hiccupped on a sob that she tried to hold back. Oh, Blessed Andraste, what had gone wrong? What had happened to Tahlie? "Tell me what you know about the Grey Warden hiding in Darktown with the ability to channel demons and survive."

She felt lightheaded with panic, and the pain in her chest as she realised he knew she'd lied to him could only be her heart breaking; there was no way he'd forgive her for this. "So I can betray my friend and attacker," she said carefully, choosing each word so that she wouldn't trip over her tongue and burst into tears, "or I can hurt my lover and gaoler. Is that what you're asking of me, Cullen?"

He slammed his hand down onto the desk; she let out a tiny scream at the impact, not expecting him to respond so violently. "You will refer to me as Knight Captain," he snarled, "and you will answer my question, Miss Hawke, not bait me with conundrums. Tell me of Tahlindra."

Bethany let out a sob, biting down on her lip to stop it from evolving into a storm of tears. "I will not betray my friend."

He was very abruptly there, in her space, crowding her backwards. "And yet apparently you are quite content in betraying me! You told me you didn't know the other mage that day in the clinic!"

She stumbled backwards into the wall, whimpering as he followed her with wild, blazing anger in his eyes. "I may have," she forced out, working the words past the lump in her throat. She had to fight the urge to burst into great, heaving sobs.

Cullen was silent for a very long moment, breath hissing from between his teeth. "You lied to me," he said finally.

"There was no other mage," she countered weakly, "so technically I wasn't lying."

He turned to face her and she nearly whimpered from the icy cruelty in his eyes. "You defended a demon," he hissed. "You lied to me to protect a monster. You've lied to me for three years now."

Something in her heart withered and died at the look in his eyes; she straightened her shoulders and faced him with as much aplomb as she could muster. "You know nothing of the circumstances surrounding her condition," Bethany spat. Her hands were shaking from adrenalin, but she pushed onwards. "And if you think I'm going to tell you anything, when I know that you're just going to use anything I say to your advantage to kill or imprison her, you are wrong, Cullen!"

"She is a monster!"

"She is my friend!" The tears were streaming down her face now, and she was so distraught that she thought she might faint.

"You cannot befriend a monster, Bethany!"

Something inside of her snapped. "But apparently I let one into my bed!"

His eyes went blank, the emotions banked instantly as if someone had covered a fire with sand. It was like that day so long ago when she'd first been brought to the Gallows, when she'd begged him for help in the interrogation room and he'd just… shut her out. "Bethany Hawke," he said quietly, the icy tone to his voice making her shiver. "While I appreciate that you think you are aiding your friend, you are in fact only putting innocent lives at risk. Tahlindra needs to be restrained, as much for her own good as for everyone else's. You will tell me what I need to know."

"To the Void with you, Cullen," she whispered.

She saw his self-control break. "You lied to me!" he roared, slamming his hands onto the wall either side of her head; she only just swallowed back her scream. "I trusted you, Bethany, and you deceived me!"

From somewhere she managed to find her voice, nearly choking on the panic that was consuming her at his rage. "If I deceived you it was only to protect a kind and gentle woman, with more grace in her soul than someone as judgemental as you could ever conceive!" she stammered, trying to sound confident.

Cullen had never felt so conflicted in all his life; he was utterly consumed with furious, blood boiling rage, and yet seeing her lip quivering and tears streaming down her cheeks, he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms and plead with her for forgiveness. The flicker of fear in her eyes when he yelled was enough to drive the knife in further, and the heartbreak in her voice nearly felled him. He wanted to fall onto his knees and cling to her and beg her not to cry.

But duty reared its ugly head within him; what was the fear and hurt of one woman, when she had intentionally kept knowledge of a dangerous creature from the very people who could control it and slay it if necessary? She insisted that this woman was a friend, but that same friend had attacked her all those years ago- and he had no way of knowing if it was an isolated incident. By Sebastian's description of Hawke's behaviour, he had to assume that it was not such an unusual occurrence for Tahlindra to attack like that.

"If you have nothing to say that will help me, then we are done here," he said, pretending it didn't destroy his heart to see her love shatter to tiny pieces in her eyes. He hesitated for a moment, his commitment to his duty wavering fiercely as the need to comfort her surged higher; but he bit his tongue and marched over to the door, trying not to flinch when he heard the soft sob she let out when he walked away from her.

Thrask was standing guard outside the door, and from the pinched look around his mouth, he had heard every word of their argument. Fabulous- surely it was only a matter of time now before Meredith roused herself from her solitude for long enough to berate him anew and threaten Bethany. The thought of Bethany coming to harm as a result of his carelessness made the anger within him burn even brighter. "Please escort Miss Hawke to a cell in solitary confinement," he snarled, uncaring of the fury and disgust in his voice and the way the other knight looked at him in alarm. It was too late to hide his hurt now. "She is not to talk to anyone except myself or the Knight Commander."

"I have nothing to say to you," Bethany hissed, tears glittering in her eyes and on her cheeks. Oh, the betrayal in her eyes stabbed at him, but he steeled himself against it.

"Then you shall be in solitary confinement for a great deal of time," he retorted, dragging her forward and passing her over to Thrask. With a brisk nod to the other man, he shepherded them out of his office and slammed the door.

Before the echo had even died off, he was sprinting to the private quarters beside his office; he only just had enough time to grab the empty chamber pot before he was violently ill, his stomach heaving as the guilt and the pain became too much for him. When it settled, he slumped onto the floor, leaning against the side of his bed- a bed that Bethany had slept in not two nights before- and panted for air.

He hated blood magic with an almost fanatical obsession, and he still had nightmares about what the demons had forced him to endure in Kinloch Hold all those years ago. There had in fact been a time or two where Bethany had been present for those nightmares, and had soothed him and sung quietly to him while he shivered in a panic afterwards. And even knowing that, knowing how he felt about blood magic and demons, she had lied to him continuously about Tahlindra for three years. She had chosen to keep faith with an abomination, rather than be honest with him.

In the quiet of his own quarters, alone and betrayed, he let his heart break. He'd broken his most sacred tenant, the rule that he drilled into his recruits day after day after day- mages are not to be trusted.

And it made him ten times a fool that he still loved her with everything within him.

***

Cullen was in the process of planning the raid on the Darktown clinic with Knight Lieutenant Harris, when a commotion in the hallway caught their attention.

"What in the name of-"Harris was cut off when a painfully familiar figure appeared in their line of sight, shaking off the attempts of two Templars to restrain him and keep him from the door.

"No, no, gentlemen, you don't understand, the Knight Captain and I are the dearest of friends." Cullen only just resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his hand and just wish the idiot away. "In fact, I'm quite certain he's expecting me. We had an afternoon planned out, you see, a whimsical series of adventures and merriment. He'll be quite upset if you stop me from getting to him."

"I… I don't think I quite understand that man," Harris murmured.

"You would not be alone," Cullen muttered, as Hawke sauntered into the room with only a brief stumble as he shook off the last of the Templars who had tried to hold him back.

"Cullen!" He threw his arms wide as if greeting an old friend, though there was something calculating in his gaze already. "My dear old friend, how are you? It feels like it's been ages; I haven't seen you since the last time you came to spy on me for your puppet masters."

"Hawke," he sneered, gesturing for Harris to stand down. The lieutenant only reluctantly took his hand away from his sword, and he eyed the intruder warily. Cullen couldn't blame him. "To what do I owe the displeasure?"

"Oh, look, the Templar tried to make a funny." Garrett was dressed immaculately, his armour gleaming, the colours bright, and his greatsword still noticeably strapped to his back. It was not standard practise for anyone but a Templar to be armed this deep into the heart of the Gallows. His appearance could not have been more different to Sebastian's, and it was a reminder of just how persuasive and intimidating Hawke could be when he wanted to be. "What a shame you lack any sense of humour and can't actually tell when something is funny or not to begin with."

Cullen ground his teeth together. "What do you want, Hawke?" He hardly had time for this- if only for the fact that seeing him here made his guilt at imprisoning Bethany soar to astronomical heights. If Hawke knew that Bethany was languishing in a cell deep below the Gallows… the only thing that could possibly be worse would be if he knew he'd been sleeping with her before he threw her in the cell.

He might be more than a little oblivious to normal courtship routines, but he knew enough to be terrified of a brother like Garrett Hawke.

The smile that Hawke gave him was remarkably shark like, from the number of teeth he bared in the process. "Dismiss your underlings and I'll tell you what I want, Cullen."

He stiffened at the insult. "You have two options at the moment, Hawke: to walk out of here, or to be carried out of here unconscious and thrown into the harbour. Which is it to be?"

"Neither," Hawke said, sauntering forward and placing his hands flat on the desk. He leaned forward, almost into his personal space, and he had to steel himself not to lean backwards and admit that he was intimidated by the younger warrior. "You and I are going to have a little chat, Cullen, about the events of the last few days, and then you're going to go on a little jaunt with me."

"I hardly think-"

"And I'm hardly surprised. We need to talk Cullen, before you make a colossal mistake. I know that Sebastian came to see you, because the fool couldn't stop himself from coming to preach to me about it. So you and I will talk, and you will see that there are two sides to this story, and then you will come with me."

He bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from retorting something stupid, taking a calming breath before replying. "You cannot simply saunter into the Gallows and presume to tell the Knight Captain what to do, Hawke. Not if you value your life."

There was something feral in Garrett's eyes as he chuckled. "Well, I ever was a risk taker. I'd hate to see the scandal that would befall the Templars if they acted against a pair of Grey Wardens without provocation; I'm only here out of the goodness of my heart, you see, to help you and your delightfully prejudiced brethren."

"Hawke," Cullen growled warningly.

"What? I've never held my tongue and I'm not about to start now. So," he made a shooing motion at Harris and the two other Templars in the room "are you going to dismiss your minions or not?"