"Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage." - St Augustine

Well. After completing my little one-shot Backdraft, it became clear that Themis wasn't done; so here we are.

(I still, sadly, do not own Dragon Age.)

The sun had shaken off its early redness and chased away the morning mist. It was looking like a beautiful day; and it was late enough for the Herald to be up.

Cullen rapped on the door of her hut, shifting his feet nervously during the pause before receiving leave to enter.

She was dressed, all right, but looking rumpled, as if she hadn't bothered getting undressed before going to sleep. She sat on her dishevelled bed with her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. He closed the door behind him.

"Good morning, Herald."

"Commander."

"I suppose you know why I'm here."

"I was expecting the Seeker. Yesterday."

"Leliana and Josephine didn't believe that would go so well." He frowned. "I'm still not sure why they thought it should be me, but here I am. May I sit?"

Her gaze didn't move from the wall, and her waved hand seemed to indicate indifference more than assent. Cullen shifted the room's single chair closer before sitting down, drawing a deep breath and launching into his semi-rehearsed speech.

"You have to know you can't do what you did yesterday. If anyone else here decides to walk out into demon-haunted wilderness without backup or anybody knowing where they are - it's their call. You might quite literally have the fate of Thedas in your hand. If you take risks like that, you're risking everyone." He paused. Her face was stony, eye contact determinedly absent. "I know you barely know anyone here, but this isn't going to work if you don't trust us. Me. Somebody. Please. Is there anything else out there, any unfinished business that might induce you to be so reckless again?"

She propped her heels on the bedframe and hugged her knees. "I was just out for a walk."

"No, you weren't. First, demon-haunted wilderness. Second - well, I'll get to that in a minute. Answer my question. Please."

Her jaw worked. When she spoke, it was barely above a whisper. "There's nothing."

"Well, if anything does arise - please, talk to us about it. We'll do what we can to help, I promise."

After a pause, she nodded once.

"All right. Now... forgive me for coming down hard, but I have to mention that you were in less danger than you thought. If you had got into trouble, there were a couple of Leliana's people watching you."

Her gaze flickered for just a moment.

Cullen forged ahead. "I know where you went and what you found there. Herald... Themis, I am truly sorry."

Nothing.

"Who was it?"

The words were dragged as if in chains through her clenched teeth. "Not. Your. Concern."

"I know that. I just thought... maybe you'd feel better if..." He faltered, feeling his words slap uselessly against the wall of her silent grief. Bereft of better ideas, he rose, his hand reaching hesitantly for her shoulder.

Her head turned and for a heartbeat she met his eye; unguarded, he thought, for the first time since they'd met. Just a heartbeat, then the gates behind her eyes snapped shut again and her gaze went to the floor, as determinedly as it had previously been on the wall. Her position had shifted, ever so slightly, and the only word he had for it was 'cringe'. Especially after what he'd seen in her eyes. Maker, he'd thought he was through with mages looking at him like that. That horrible mix of fear and resignation; the knowledge that one had no power, nowhere to run and no reason to hope that tomorrow would be any better. If he persisted in trying to touch her, she wouldn't stop him. She didn't know she had a choice.

He drew back. "I'm sorry, I didn't – I wouldn't..."

Someone else might have asked how the Herald of Andraste could possibly think herself powerless. To him, that look in her eye was all he needed. She'd spent most of her life at the mercy of templars – unaccountable forces being in charge of her fate was how her world worked, and the worst of it was, she wasn't wrong. If the Inquisition's inner circle decided to harm her, or throw her back in the dungeon, she couldn't stop them. If she could leave – he really hoped she'd never push that question – she'd be back out in a world that had been a bad place for a mage even before she'd been accused of killing the Divine and branded with unknown magic. And the mob outside? They'd turned from lynching to worship at a snap; they could turn back as easily.

He'd actually imagined he could comfort her! Of all the stupid, self-absorbed... There wasn't a damned thing he could say that would convince her not to be afraid of him.

He sank to one knee and bowed his head, hoping against hope she'd see the sincere penitent he wanted to be, not the monstrous hypocrite he felt like. "I presumed. Forgive me."

Not expecting a response, he was not disappointed. He stayed down for a few moments before rising and going to the door. It came to mind that she hadn't eaten since she'd returned the previous day.

"May I get someone to bring you breakfast?"

Her head was still down. A slow nod.

"All right." He slipped out, spotting Varric from the corner of his eye and hurriedly turning away to close the door. He knew his face was sometimes an open book, and right now that book was entitled 'Guilt'. A swift stop by the mess, and then to the war room where Leliana, Josephine and Cassandra were waiting.

"How did it go?" asked Leliana.

"Badly. Why was I the best one for this job again?"

"What happened, exactly?"

Shamefaced, he told them.

Leliana nodded. "Hm. About what I was expecting."

"You...?"

"Wait just a minute." The outrage in Cassandra's voice flooded Cullen with relieved gratitude. "Is this why you insisted on him going? Because she's afraid of him?"

"She's afraid of us all, Cassandra. Just Cullen the worst."

"Why?" Hearing the plaintive note in his voice, he tried to pull himself together. "Maybe if I told her I don't have my templar powers any more..."

Josephine lifted an eyebrow. "Are you planning to become a eunuch while you're at it?"

"What? You mean- I'd nev-."

"We know that, Cullen," said Cassandra. "We also know I'd break pieces off any man who tried it. She doesn't." She whirled on Leliana. "And you put him alone with her, in her bedroom? What were you thinking?"

"That we needed to know, and that he'd reassure her."

"Oh, well, I did a wonderful job of that, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did."

He stuttered in confusion, looked to Cassandra for help; but she had abandoned the offensive and was frowning thoughtfully.

Josephine smiled. "Oh, Commander. Don't you know how many men see a woman's fear as their cue to go in for the kill? Or how many perfectly well-intentioned ones would have kept on at her until she'd put on a show of accepting his apology and understanding that he'd meant no harm?" She rolled her eyes at the foolishness of men. "You handled it beautifully."

"That's right," said Leliana. "It's no use telling her she doesn't need to be afraid of you - you showed her. There aren't many men I'd trust to be such a perfect gentleman. Well done."

Cullen felt his face getting warm, the barrage of praise playing havoc with his serried internal ranks of self-loathing and anger at Leliana's manipulation. Finally he ducked his head and muttered rebelliously, "I'd've preferred not to have scared her in the first place."

"She's going to fear us until she learns to trust us. Believe me, what you just did brought that day closer."

"I must say she hides it well," murmured Josephine.

Something clicked quietly in the back of Cullen's head. Of course, that was the uneasy thread of familiarity he'd been trying to pin down - Lachlan Surana and his calm, veiled stare. "Naturally. Lock children up under the gaze of templars, some of them learn to hide things very well indeed - and not just fear." He furrowed his brow. "Uh, until we know a bit more about her - let's make sure she doesn't end up in a position where she could get away with setting Chancellor Roderick on fire."

The three women looked at him.

"I'm not saying she would. It's just a precaution."

Cassandra huffed. "I certainly won't be shedding any tears if that little weasel ends up a charred corpse. In any case, he'll be safe enough while we're away looking for this Mother Giselle. Unless anyone thinks now I shouldn't take the Herald?"

"We might as well clap her in irons and have done with it," countered Josephine. "She'll never trust us if we don't trust her."

A general mutter of assent, Cassandra included.

"Have we found out any more about her history?" asked Cullen.

Leliana sighed and shook her head. "Nothing reliable. She has the right accent and diction, the current Bann's children are known for their red hair, and one of his daughters is indeed a mage. I just can't be sure she's really this mage. No official delegation from Ostwick, where the Circle is still standing, arrived at the Conclave, but I haven't got any certain word yet about whether one set out. And there is a rumour of some kind of incident on the Trevelyan estate about the right time – I'm trying to pin that down. Now we can surmise somebody came here with her, who hid out in the mountains rather than actually go to the Conclave – somebody she cared enough about to risk running off by herself. But aside from that..." She stepped over to the map and pressed a finger down in the Free Marches. "The biggest thing wrong with her story is that there isn't one. Ask her how she got here and she just says she left Ostwick with the First Enchanter's permission and refuses to say anything else. Until we pull her from the wreckage, her life's a blank slate."

Cullen contemplated the way between Leliana's fingertip and Haven; wilderness and sea, and the pockets of civilisation where no outsider's welcome was assured in times of war, a mage's far less. He thought of the thin, frightened young woman who had left the straitened but sheltered life of a Circle and somehow crossed that distance. What had she been through? What had she had to do to survive?

Was she afraid because he was a templar? A man? Both?

"She's lived in a Circle," he said. "Take it from me, that much is true."

"It's early days yet," Leliana replied. "We'll turn up more."

"What should I do?"

"What do you mean?"

"When I see her. How do I...?"

Cassandra sighed impatiently. "Maybe you missed the part where Leliana sent you to the Herald because she trusted you to behave like a decent human being without being coached. You are a decent human being. Just don't overthink it."

"I hate to bring it up," Josephine put in. "But she disappeared for most of yesterday and she's about to be gone for some time. If the people don't get to see her today, it might... not be good."

"She's grieving," Cullen frowned.

"Everybody's grieving," riposted Cassandra. "Maybe Varric will help - she's not afraid of him too, is she?"

Leliana shook her head. "No, he's a good choice. I'll have a word with him if she hasn't appeared by noon."

He stumbled over to her as she dropped to her knees in the snow; froze midway through bending to pick her up. He'd never made to touch her again, not since the next time he saw her. She'd been talking and smiling and once again carrying herself with apparent confidence; and she'd walked up to within arm's reach of Cullen as if it was nothing, as if she hadn't cowered from his touch that very morning. He'd always assumed she was faking to some degree - Maker knew, he had to put up a good front himself a lot of the time - but not how much. A Herald was required, so a Herald she would be. He'd wondered how far it was because she believed in what they were trying to do, and how far it was just to keep the Inquisition's leaders happy.

In the weeks that followed, Leliana had assured him that the Herald's growing assurance was not entirely feigned, but the sight of that pitifully trapped creature huddled on her bed had haunted him. Whenever he'd been around her, he'd had to bury the mad urge to do exactly what Josephine had praised him for not doing, to keep apologising until she said she wasn't afraid of him, to, Maker preserve him, hold her and make her understand that whatever she had been though, it was over, that anybody who tried to hurt her would have him to deal with.

And now, she had – somehow – made it out of Haven and was collapsed at his feet, exhausted and freezing, and he... couldn't touch her. The fear of her looking at him like that, ever again...

Head hanging, she reached out to claw blindly at his thigh. His paralysis broke and he swept her up, trying to angle his arms so that there was a minimum of metal bits poking into her. If he failed, she didn't seem to care; an arm hooked itself around his neck, then he jumped at the feel of warm breath and freezing nose against his throat.

"It's all right," he whispered, not knowing whether she heard him, perhaps rather preferring it if she didn't. "I'll take it from here. Nobody's going to hurt you."