The shackles around his wrists burned into his flesh as the young warden guard clamped them on. She seemed surprised he was so complacent with the arrangements. Who would have guessed that the Champion of Kirkwall would give himself up without a fight? A scream echoed throughout the empty halls as the runes locked in place on the puzzle-like device. The metal bonds sealed away the magic which would have saved his life otherwise. The cursed silver hair and green eyes of his bloodline retreated back into his body and was replaced with natural-born raven strands and blue pupils, the likes of which had not been seen since childhood. "Put him in with the other one," were the orders given by a faceless helmet. While led and pushed inside of a dungeon cell, Hawke thought back to the events which led him here.
His first thought was of Anders, the man he gave himself up to the wardens for. It was the man he loved who never believed him when told so. Fenris then came to mind, someone who could not find it in their heart to be with a mage. Perhaps that wasn't a fair assessment. It was because the elf found it disgusting to love Hawke in every single way except for him being a mage. He disgusted himself for wanting the only person in the world who ever truly cared for him to change the one thing they could not. And then, of course, there was Cullen.
It was after Fenris had left when Leandra Hawke was slain by blood magic, an event which shook her two remaining children to their core. As Carver buried himself into becoming a Templar for this exact reason, his older brother became a recluse instead. As a mage himself, Seren could no longer find the words to justify his existence. He knew it wasn't his fault or the fault of magic in general. What haunted him was the look his mother gave before she died in his arms and the sympathetic gazes given by his friends. The one person he wanted to hold and be held by had already rejected him for a talent he could not help but possess. "What has magic touched that is hasn't spoiled," Fenris once asked him. He now knew the answer: Nothing. In the dead of night after being an orphan for only a few days, he left his manor in Hightown to turn himself over to the Gallows.
He was drunk and had been since he buried his remaining parent. Leaving his armor behind, he staggered into the fortress wearing simple, dirty street clothes. His father's staff, a mighty weapon, was now used as a brace so he could make it to his destination amidst stumbling and blurred vision. He knew where he was going, for the most part, from visiting his brother a few times before. He was also fortunate enough not to be asked too many questions by the recruits who already knew of him as they turned in for the night. Outside of Carver, there was only one other man he trusted more than anyone else here. It would be a generous favor to Knight-Captain by allowing him to reap the rewards from capturing an infamous apostate. More so, Cullen was a friend. A secret one he shared his hopes, dreams, and past with late into the night while enjoying the peacefulness of a quiet chantry.
They had run into each other there many times before while lighting candles for their fallen comrades and family. They shared the better times in Ferelden before the Blight in sweet whispers to each other enough to be shushed by the Mothers and Sisters on several occasions. Sometimes, the Templar would even sing hymns which soothed the soul in unexplainable ways. Their bond may have been small, but still unexpected. Who would ever believe one held in such high regard could ever care for him? It may have been luck or misfortune he wasn't in his room as Seren broke the locked door down by knocking then falling into it. Cullen's quarters were in a large, hollowed-out cell converted into an office and bed area. It was distant from the rest of the order and allowed for some privacy, a luxury with his rank. It was also a place where the noises of rowdy recruits could not reach his ears unless there was something important. The crash went unnoticed and the intoxicated mage propped the door back up to cover the hole before sitting on a large, made bed. Springs creaked as he bounced and looked around. There was a desk with a stack of unsigned papers, quill, and inkwell with a chair tucked in underneath. Books lined the shelves along the walls next to several opened scrolls. Decorative candles, liquor bottles, and a chess set of a game in progress also filled the lifeless spaces. Collapsing on the pillows, he spread out to crinkle the blankets. The smell of the other man's musk was strongest here; a bit of sandalwood mixed with rosemary or maybe lavender. Whatever it was, it lulled him to sleep.
"What happened to your door?" a woman's voice asked which awoke the sleeper, who had no idea how many hours had past.
"Sweet Maker, who would…?" It was the Knight-Captain's voice now, he was sure of it. "Bloody hell. Hawke. Hawke!" The brisk shaking of his shoulder only stirred him a bit before giving up with an audible sigh. "I'm sorry, you'll have to go…"
"But what about? I mean, if you're into this, we can include him too? Or just work around him. Wouldn't be the first time I had a patron pass out on me. On top of me. Hell, in me," she laughed.
"Right… Here, just take this for you time coming down here, but I have to… deal with this matter. You can find you way out. Thank you." Giving a shrug, the prostitute left with a few coins in hand. Once gone, Cullen moved the door back in place to close the entryway off once again. "Hawke! Seren! For Andraste's sake, wake up!" There was another fit of stirring before finally opening his green eyes and rose to meet a pair of rather angry, brown ones.
"Cullen… There you…" The greeting cut short as he vomited and passed out once again. The light hurt as he regained his senses, but was tucked into the covers on the noisy bed this time instead of being on top of them. Peeking under, he also saw how he was wearing nothing but his small clothes. The outfit he had worn was hanging on a far wall next to his staff and a freshly-polished Templar chestpiece. Sittings at the desk with a smaller stack of papers was his friend, also undressed for the most part as he put the quill down.
"You're finally awake?" he asked with a relieved smile and came over with a small glass of brown liquid. "Here. Drink this. Not quite enough to get you drunk again, but at least you can wash the taste out of your mouth." A shaky hand took it from him to drink, making a face at the sourness.
"What is this? Scotch?"
"Better than that swill you spewed all over us an hour ago."
"...Oh. I… apologize. I didn't mean to ruin your evening." There was a laugh as Cullen shook his head.
"The number of times I've had stale ale spewed on me from pulling drunk recruits out of the brothel is ridiculous. I've been spit up on more times than a wet nurse."
"That's… disgusting," was laughed before finishing off the rest of the glass. Once emptied, it was placed it down on a nearby nightstand.
"I take it that you didn't break into my room to vomit all over my uniform though? Please tell me you got lost or something. Meredith's room is on the other side, you know."
"There are far easier ways to end up naked in your bed, I presume, such as working at the Rose?"
"You're not naked…"
"Almost naked."
"At least your memory is intact," grumbled the blond as he stood to reach for his scotch bottle on the bookshelf. He took a swig from it as he sat down on the bed again and handed it over for Hawke to do the same.
"I'm surprised you of all people would have to… pay for such a thing. No luck in that department? I keep telling you that you should shave."
"You're one to talk," he teased as a hand reached to scratch the snowy stubble. The playfulness stopped when the sad face lowered into his palm. "Ah… Right. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking about what happened between you and Fenris… Apologies."
"Have rumours circulated already?" Seren scoffed while still hiding in the cupped hand.
"Word… has gotten around. You do have people who worry about you and were curious to know why you've been missing for days. Not to mention I haven't seen you at the chantry either. It's rare for you to miss an evening lighting a candle for your father and sister… and your mother too. I am sorry for your loss." A forced-out breath grazed over his fingertips at the mention of Leandra's sudden death. "I lit them for you in your stead. I sent my prayers that way as well. I'm sure she is with the rest of your family."
"Do Templars even believe that mages go to the Maker's side?"
"...I do, at least, and those who don't should. Despite our differences, we are all His children." Eyes looked up at him as his hand retreated.
"I'm surprised to hear you, of all people, say that." The tone was dismissive and bitter. "But today is your lucky day, Knight-Captain. I'm turning myself into your custody. Cullen Rutherford captures the renegade apostate and locks him in the Gallows. You'll be commanding your own army soon. I hear Ostwick's circle could use a firmer hand. I've been there before. It's pretty rowdy."
"I'm not locking you in the Gallows, Seren." There was an eyeroll. "You're upset and drunk. What you need is to clear your head and a good night's sleep, not locked away like a…"
"Like what?" he argued. "Like a mage? It's what I am though! I've hid from your kind my entire life and for what? Fenris told me he can't love me because I have magic and my mother was..." Tears began to form at the internal conflict as it began to resurface. The rejected hand came up once again along with its pair to cup the water-streaked cheeks.
"The mage that killed your mother was a monster. Magic did not make him into one. He did that all on his own."
"Says the man tortured by blood mages." There was a groan as choice words remained unspoken.
"You… are not the same as those who did that either and if Fenris can't tell the difference, then he doesn't deserve your affections. I know you well enough to at least understand how much you care. So much to the point that you broke down my door in the middle of the night to protect others from yourself, but I… we care about you too. So much, I'm here trying to protect you from making a bad decision fueled by despair and a questionable amount of alcohol. I… know what it's like to be alone and have no one there for you in your darkest hour. Just know that there are plenty of people who are willing to sit with you for as long as it takes until you can see the light again."
"...Bad things happen to those close to me, Cullen. I can't just…" A firm kiss silenced the weak protest.
"Nothing bad happened, yes? I'm not a toad or anything now, am I?"
"...Your hair is ridiculously curly."
"I can't blame you for that. It comes from my mother's side."
"And I'm the one they say has terrible jokes." But then there was a second kiss.
"Am I a frog yet?"
"No," Hawke laughed as he moved in for the third display of affection on his own. His arms wrapped around Cullen's bare neck and shoulders as he fell backwards to have the Templar on top of him. "Still nothing, but I'm not convinced you're immune to my terrible luck."