Not Easily Forgotten
Cullen took a deep breath as a guard opened the large double doors before him. The cool air from the throne room flooded over Cullen's face. After a nod from the solemn-looking Seneschal beyond the doors, Cullen stepped forward. The man had his chin raised in an attempt to look down his nose at Cullen, who was much taller and more imposing, making the little man's petty posturing almost humorous. The man peered at his official-looking paperwork, scanning the overly meticulous lettering, before returning his gaze to Cullen.
The Seneschal gestured wordlessly for Cullen to approach the throne and Cullen obeyed, observing the royal hall as he did so. The throne room was brightly lit, large windows letting in daylight from the second floor balconies. A generous amount of torches lined the walls of the first floor, as did a generous amount of capable-looking guards. The two largest guards stood at the base of the stairs leading to the throne, on either side of the king and queen's seats. The two of them together resembled a doorway, sending a clear message: getting to the king required going through these men first.
He heard the Seneschal behind him, announcing him in typical court fashion: "Announcing Ser Cullen, Knight-Captain of the Templars of Kirkwall!"
The King of Ferelden was tall, even seated on his throne. His short, carefully styled hair was a golden blonde that matched the gold doublet he wore bearing the royal seal. He sat at attention, appearing ready and inviting to his subjects, if a little bored. Yet there was a light air about him. He smiled warmly, his eyes jovial.
"You stand before Alistair Theirin, King of Ferelden!" came the Seneschal's voice. Alistair suppressed an eye-roll.
Cullen took his cue to dropped to one knee. "Your Majesty."
"Rise, friend. Welcome to Ferelden!" he said with pride in his voice, the banners of Ferelden and the Grey Wardens hanging side by side on the wall behind him. "You've come from Kirkwall was it?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Cullen stood and clasped his hands behind his back.
"From the Free Marches... And yet, you sound Ferelden?" the king asked conversationally.
It was a harmless enough question, but still one which required an answer. "Yes... Your Majesty."
Cullen had recognized the other man right off. He remembered him as one of the two Grey Wardens who cleared the Ferelden Tower of blood mages. Thankfully the king seemed unaware of their history, but enough information would eventually jog his memory.
"Ah, then I should be welcoming you home!" Alistair exclaimed.
"Yes, thank you, Your Majesty," Cullen answered, allowing a spark of joy to color his voice. He'd spent years in the Free Marches by now, but it was Ferelden that remained his home country. The familiar countryside on the journey to Denerim had been a welcome sight, as opposed to the grey stone assembly that was Kirkwall.
Alistair examined the templar. The man was seemingly close in age to Alistair himself, his stance stiff and formal, his expression stoic. Yes, definitely a templar. His short, strawberry blonde curls were vaguely reminiscent of noodles. Alistair couldn't help but think he'd seen the man somewhere before...
"I wonder, you look familiar ser. What did you say your name was again?" the king asked, stroking his stubble absent-mindedly.
The man's fingers flexed nervously. "Cullen, Your Majesty."
"And did you serve as a templar in Ferelden as well as Kirkwall, Ser Cullen?"
Cullen shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, silently cursing the man's curiosity. This was more than Cullen wished to reveal. The King blinked at him expectantly. "Yes, Your Majesty. I was transferred to the Gallows in Kirkwall from... Kinloch Hold."
The pieces slid into place within Alistair's mind and he recalled where he had seen the man before. "Ah, I remember you now! We met once before."
"Did we, Your Majesty?" said Cullen, feigning ignorance. Cullen cleared his throat awkwardly at the recognition in the king's eyes. He focused all of his effort on maintaining a calm veneer of control, on revealing nothing.
The templar before Alistair looked much different from the man he'd met at Kinloch Hold. The Kirkwall air must have done him some good. As well as the not-being-tormented-by-demons-and-abominations.
"Yes," spoke the king, "Yes I'm sure of it now. You were in the Circle Tower during the..." Massacre. Uldred's atrocities were nothing less. The humor left the king's voice as he rethought his choice of words. "During the Blight."
Cullen's shoulders suddenly felt very heavy. "Yes, Your Majesty. Though I'm sorry to say I don't remember meeting you..." he said, furthering the lie.
Alistair remembered all too well the horrors inflicted on the Circle Tower when he and Solona had gone in search of allies against the darkspawn. He also remembered the young templar, the brutality he suffered... Alistair couldn't blame the man for wanting to forget.
"Don't remember me? I am highly offended, ser. To the hangman's noose with you!" the king chuckled softly, trying to recover from the seriousness the conversation had taken on. "Oh, that's alright. It was many years ago, and we met only briefly. Through our mutual... friend. Solona Amell?"
Alas, blushing is an involuntary response. No amount of physical control can stop it. And Cullen was unable to stop the blush that overtook his face at her name.
Alistair watched the templar carefully. Yes, Alistair remembered the events at the Circle well. He remembered the young templar who had been imprisoned by maleficarum, tempted by, of all things, his infatuation with a certain mage. The templar had inadvertently revealed this to their group, including Solona herself, under the impression that they were figments of his imagination and further assaults on his willpower by the demons.
Alistair remembered the things Cullen had said to her. Sure, the templar had been tortured for Maker knew how long, and frequently by a demon bearing her image. That hadn't made Cullen's words hurt her any less.
Though the templar had tried not to react, his neck visibly stiffened. "Friend? Amell... Yes, she was a mage in the Circle before the Blight. I saw her now and again, of course, but we hardly had reason to speak to one another..." Cullen said, speaking the truth while careful to leave sentiment out of his words and his voice.
Now he was pretending that she had been just an everyday passerby? That rubbed Alistair the wrong way.
"I remember her, though," the templar was saying. "After all, who could forget the woman who would become the famous Hero of Ferelden?"
"Indeed," the king smiled, forgetting himself. His affections were no longer so well hidden. His face beamed with pride for his dearest friend. And former lover. Yes, Cullen was well aware of the rumors. And he remembered the way the future King of Ferelden's gaze and touch lingered on their "mutual friend" so long ago.
Cullen composed himself, taking a deep breath. "Actually, Your Majesty, that's why I'm here... I've come to Denerim looking to have a word with your Chancellor..."
"Oh? With Solona?" The templar pretended he had no connection to the woman, and yet he had come so far to see her. Suppressing a smirk, Alistair couldn't resist a bit of mischief and addressed the man before him, now intent on teasing him mercilessly.
The king raised an eyebrow and frowned. "It's quite a trip from the Free Marches to Denerim, ser templar. Surely the Knight-Captain does not travel so far just for a visit. With a woman he claims to have no personal relationship with."
"I-I..."
"Or is it hero worship that brings you here, hm? Seeking an autograph from the- what was it you said- the famous Hero of Ferelden? I'm sure the lady would have responded to a simple letter. Does this truly necessitate an audience with the King of Ferelden?"
"That's not-"
"Or maybe you've come... in an official capacity." Alistair leaned forward on his throne, the faintest malice in his voice. "Has the Order decreed that she's lived free of her chains long enough? Has the Chantry decided that she's in possession of far too much power and influence for a mage? Have you come as a templar seeking an apostate to drag back to your Tower?" His voice was nearly a deep growl now. "As her fellow Grey Warden and as King of Ferelden, surely you don't expect I will allow that to happen."
"Y-your Majesty-!" All color had left the man's skin. His mouth opened but no sound came out, shocked beyond the ability to form words. His eyes darted about the room, unable to meet Alistair's heated glare.
The king then proceeded to burst into a raucous fit of laughter. He tossed about in his throne until he had no breath left in his lungs and still, his body shook with the breathless spasms of his laughter. He wiped the tears from his face as he gasped for air. It was at least a full minute before Alistair recovered.
Cullen was less than amused.
The king sighed as his lungs began to fill regularly again. His words were still broken with intermittent chuckles when he finally spoke. "Oh... Oh I'm sorry, my friend, I... I couldn't resist... We were talking about Solona and I... I couldn't help thinking that, she would have... taken one look at you, so serious and stiff... All business and formalities and I just... I just know she would have broken the tension with a joke at your expense."
Cullen took a deep breath and rubbed his temple. "Yes, I... imagine she would." He could picture her now, poking fun at him or pranking him in an attempt to break his mask of control. He remembered the wicked glint in her eyes as she played with him, and her heartfelt smile whenever she succeeded. She would have done anything to make him smile, as if it brought her all the world's joy. But it was her own laughter that he always smiled at.
Alistair saw Cullen relax his stance just a little. Solona would be proud. Whatever discomfort or embarrassment Cullen had felt about their past encounter at the Tower, Alistair knew it was gone.
The templar glanced subconsciously to the empty throne on Alistair's right. If Alistair had blinked, he would have missed it. It was a popular topic of gossip, mostly amongst Ferelden's haughty noblewomen, that traditionally it was the queen's place to sit there beside the king. But that seat was frequently occupied by the king's Chancellor.
"Oh, but you came to see her. I'm so sorry... She's not here," Alistair said gently. "Not in the palace or even in Denerim."
"That is... unfortunate. I had heard that she serves as your Chancellor, so I thought to find her here."
"Usually you'd be correct, but she's put on her Warden-Commander helmet and gone to Vigil's Keep in Amaranthine, to observe the latest recruits and hear the Seneschal's update." The templar tried and failed to hide his disappointment. "But she's due back any day now, you could wait here in Denerim for her. Or I'm sure she would be happy to receive you at the Keep. It's not too much of a detour from here."
"Thank you, but I must depart again for Kirkwall as soon as my business here is concluded. The city is in too tumultuous a state for me to delay even a day." Cullen hardened his expression and straightened his stance once more. The time for more light-hearted exchanges had ended. Alistair watched the templar replace his formal mask and sighed inwardly. "I came here as Knight-Captain, on official business," explained Cullen. "I'd hoped to speak with Solona-"
Cullen flinched at the realization that he hadn't spoken her name in years. The word was foreign on his tongue, the taste no longer familiar. It had been far too long. Cullen shook his head sharply and composed himself. Now was not the time to dwell on such things.
"I'd hoped to speak with her, not because she's a mage, or your Chancellor, or the Hero of Ferelden. In fact I seek the Commander of the Grey."
Alistair's posture had also relaxed and become casual, as he teased the templar and spoke of their friend, but now he, too, straightened on his throne. "Grey Warden business?"
"That's correct, Your Majesty."
The king suddenly appeared much less out-of-place seated on his throne as he addressed Cullen with nothing but strength and authority. "I will hear what you've come to say, then, Knight-Captain Cullen of Kirkwall."
"Yes, Your Majesty. You see, for a number of years Kirkwall's undercity has played host to a certain Grey Warden," Cullen began. "A mage by the name of Anders?" The king nodded in acknowledgement, but remained silent. He waited for Cullen to continue. "It is my understanding that he is there in hiding. From the Wardens themselves."
"Truly?" the king said thoughtfully. "Anders... Anders... Seems familiar. What does this man look like?"
The templar considered for a moment. "He has... dirty blonde hair he ties behind his head and he has persistent dark stubble. He's slightly shorter than I am and has chestnut colored eyes. He specializes in healing magic and has a penchant for wearing feathers."
"Yes that does sound like... But it couldn't be. The man I'm thinking of... The Wardens thought him dead."
"It's likely that was his intention, Your Majesty."
"Yes I suppose so... And you say he's been in Kirkwall for years? How is it that he went unnoticed by the templars for so long?" There was no judgement or accusation in the king's voice, only inquiry. Still, Cullen's jaw clenched.
"When he first arrived in the city he established himself as a healer for the Ferelden refugees in the undercity, starting a free clinic in Darktown. The Kirkwallers were hostile towards the refugees, who often came to Kirkwall with nothing or having to sell what little they possessed just to get by... Life for the Fereldens was hard- it still is. To have a figure who cared about them and helped them, took care of them... He healed their wounds, delivered their children, asking nothing in return.
"Needless to say, those who sought him other than for help never found him. Those who knew him were grateful and formed a protective barrier around him, hiding him from inquisition. Enough so that he was little more than a Darktown rumor for a few years.
"By the time he was located it had become evident that, should we attempt to apprehend him, we'd likely face a riot from the Ferelden refugees he'd been helping. When we confirmed that he was an apostate mage, the templars were more willing to upset his defenders. However, before we were able to make that call, we were told that he is a Grey Warden."
The king leaned forward as if to aid him in listening. He followed the templar's words intently, never interrupting. Alistair only nodded from time to time to encourage the other man to go on.
"As I'm sure you know, Your Majesty, when a mage becomes a Grey Warden their duty prevents the templars from taking action against them without just cause," Cullen continued, "so out of respect for your order we decided only to watch the mage. Closely.
"But the mage, Anders, is a constant disruptive presence in Kirkwall. It is our belief that he's been helping apostates evade templar capture, as well as assisting Circle mages in escaping the Gallows itself. He spreads ideas of rebellion and revolt among the mages. And though we can prove nothing, templars have gone missing or mysteriously turned up dead with increased frequency.
"Further more, the Grey Wardens have conducted an amount of business in Kirkwall since Anders' arrival, and the mage has had little-to-no interaction with them. In fact, he seems to avoid them. This is what led us to conclude that Anders is not in Kirkwall in any official capacity as a Warden. From what you've told me of his supposed death, I am now positive that he is indeed in hiding."
Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, feeling as if a great weight had been resting atop his shoulders. "Your Majesty, look... This is a Grey Warden matter. And the Order has no desire to intrude on your jurisdiction. But if something isn't done about Anders soon, we may no longer have that option. Tensions in Kirkwall are at an all-time high and if we cannot abate it, the city will break out into war.
"Anders has a very powerful, very influential friend in Kirkwall. One of the few people attempting to keep the peace in the city. She's kept some of the more ambitious templars from touching Anders, but I think she's also kept him from going too far in his actions against us. However, it's clear she is reaching the end of her abilities to contain him. She herself has warned me that Anders intends to give the city a final push to send it over the edge and into chaos, and she doesn't believe that she can prevent him this time.
"If Anders cannot be stopped, if he escalates beyond the boundary of what we can forgive, then the Order will have no choice but to intervene. Anders' allies and his Warden status can only protect him to a certain point, and I fear that point is rapidly approaching. Time is running out for him. The Warden-Commander needs to be told, she needs to be warned- maybe she can do something before it's too late."
Alistair thought on what he had heard. The king appeared deeply disturbed by all he'd learned. After a moment's silence, he spoke. "It... truly saddens me, to hear of the state Kirkwall is in. And also to hear of a Ferelden Warden so troubled." The king rubbed his temples, his disquiet making his head ache. "This powerful friend Anders has, she doesn't know exactly what it is he has planned?"
Cullen shook his head, "No, Your Majesty. She only says she no longer feels as if she knows what Anders is capable of, or how far he's willing to go. She worries for her friend. She's protected him from himself and the templars for years... That she would come to warn me speaks volumes on the gravity of her concern, as well as Anders' desperation."
"Hmm..." The king tapped his fingers against his armrest thoughtfully. "Well you were right to want to give this news to Solona. She would want to know about all you've told me. Not just as Commander of the Grey, but as someone who was once Anders' friend."
"I have told you all that I know, Your Majesty... And now I must return to Kirkwall immediately. Can I trust you will relate this information to the Warden-Commander?"
The expression on the king's face was genuine sympathy and understanding. He spoke with a resolute determination. "I give you my word, as King of Ferelden and as a Grey Warden: I will see to it personally that your message is delivered to Solona Amell, Commander of the Grey."
Cullen allowed himself a great sigh of relief. The weight on his shoulders already felt lighter knowing that if anyone could help, it was Solona. Solona could do anything.
Confident that he'd done all he could, Cullen's mission in Denerim was complete. He gave his king the traditional Ferelden bow, fists crossed over his chest, knowing that he was also bidding farewell to his home country once more.
"Thank you for taking the time to hear me, Your Majesty." Cullen began to take his leave, but halfway to the throne room doors the king's voice called Cullen's attention back to him.
"Knight-Captain, I have to ask. I still wonder: could you not have simply written our friend a letter detailing all you had to tell her? A messenger could have easily delivered your report, perhaps even quicker than you yourself... Surely you didn't need to come so far in person." A knowing grin spread across his lips.
Cullen blinked innocently at his king. "Why Your Majesty, I don't know what it is you're trying to say," he replied with the faintest trace of humor. He moved to leave again, but the king stopped him one last time.
"Ser Cullen!" The templar faced Alistair and waited.
Many years ago after leaving the broken Circle Tower, Solona's companions had asked of her history with Cullen. His demeanor outside the Harrowing Chamber had cut her deeply. It had been evident that he cared for her once, but just as plain were her feelings for him. And when they were reunited, she was met with antagonism.
Yet she'd still spoken nothing other than kind words of him. Held only affection for him. Yes, it was a long time since then, but Alistair was certain of something:
"Solona will be sad to hear that she missed your visit," Alistair said. "I am certain she would have liked to see you."
A thousand responses flashed across Cullen's mind. Jokes to tell an old friend. Sentiments of nostalgia. Musings on what might have been. Regrets of the past. Promises of the future. Heartfelt confessions. Painful truths. Stoic lies. But none of them were right. Cullen supposed that any message he left for Solona would be insufficient. So he left none. Instead he bowed once more, simply saying, "Thank you, My King."
The doors were opened for Cullen and the templar left without another word, but not before accidentally revealing himself. Alistair had watched as the other man's mind wandered, his thoughts surely turning to the woman who connected them. And though Cullen tried to keep any emotions from his expression, the corners of his eyes crinkled as surely as if he'd smiled.
A/N: I always wondered why Cullen didn't seem to do anything if you warn him about Anders. But maybe he sought help from an old friend.