"A visitor for you, messere." The steward's muffled voice said outside Nora's chamber, "Your mother is entertaining him in the hall right now."
Nora frowned as she finished lacing her breeches. There were no appointments scheduled for today and she was not expecting anyone. Doubtless, it was another one of the insipid blue-blood suitors that Mother insisted on pushing at her lately. Her social life had become complex over the last few years. When she wasn't dealing with business or friends, it seemed like she was constantly ducking the attentions of suitors and other fortune hunters.
"I'll be down in a moment." She called back, before hastily pulling her boots on. She had not slept well last night, but that was hardly out of the ordinary these days. Ever since the failed interlude with Fenris, her dreams had been a vexing muddle. And now there was Anders. Nora sighed and straightened, turning to study herself in the mirror as she smoothed her tunic down. This was as good as it was going to get. If the suitor wanted her for a wealthy wife, he would have to take her as she was, boots and breeches and perpetually mussed hair and all.
Her mother's voice droned from below as Nora descended the stairs, attempting to arrange her features into a suitable expression of greeting. She had to stop herself from gaping in surprise, though, as she recognized the visitor. Cullen stood near the fireplace, nearly back into a corner by her mother's "polite" conversation. Had she ever seen him out of his armor before? Civilian clothes agreed with him, she noted, and felt her face flush a little.
"And I suppose your work goes well. At the Circle." Mother was saying, pointedly. Cullen seemed about to reply and then caught Nora's eye and turned, gratefully, with a nod.
"Sirrah Hawke." He said, formally for her mother's benefit, and Nora returned the courtesy, trying to cover an amused smile.
"Ser Cullen. It's good to see you as always."
"I've just been saying how long it's been. Since his last visit, I mean." Her mother said, sniffing, as if reserving other remarks for herself, "But I suppose my daughter can entertain you well enough, Ser Cullen. I will leave you young people to it, if you will excuse me."
"Of course, mistress." Cullen replied, politely, and then waited until the elder Amell was out of earshot before taking a deep breath, "Your mother is keeping well these last few years, I see."
Nora laughed, "My father used to say she could run a Mabari into the ground. I suppose it's a family trait. So, to what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?"
"A social call." He admitted, smiling at her joke. She hadn't noticed before, but he had a nice smile. "Even a Templar gets a day off now and then, and I thought I might walk out to the coast. If you are free, then perhaps you would like to join me. A change of scenery, and I believe we have a few things to discuss as well."
Ah. Hawke's chest tightened slightly at the reminder of the favor she had asked of him the last time they spoke.
"Let me collect a few things, and I'll be happy to walk with you." She replied, with a half-smile, and jogged up the stairs to fetch her swordbelt and pouch.
~~0~~
The fresh, sea air outside of Kirkwall was invigorating. It was one of the things she appreciated about her new home. Today, the weather was sunny, she was outside of the walls, and she was in good company. Nora felt the exertion of the walk lift her spirits considerably. Cullen also seemed to be in good humor, and as they chatted, it was easy to forget their respective stations in life and simply be two friends on a ramble.
"Do you miss anything about Ferelden?" he asked her, as they picked their way up over the rocks towards the headland.
"The dogs, naturally." She replied, grinning, an old joke among the refugee population, "Lothering wasn't that much to miss, to be honest. Most of what I cared about there came with me. If I miss anything, I suppose it's that people there seemed to be more genuine. What you saw was what you got."
"I know what you mean." He replied, as he hopped a small divide between boulders, "Things here do seem more…complicated sometimes, I suppose."
"And you?" She asked, turning the question around on him, "What do you miss about the rugged south?
"I'm not sure I should say." He returned, but he was teasing her.
"You can't ask the question and then refuse to answer it yourself. Go on, I'm listening."
"The women." He admitted, and then looked away, slightly embarrassed, "Ferelden women are…well, you see." He gestured at her, and she smacked him playfully on the shoulder in mock offense, "Marcher girls are too delicate."
"I guess I'll take that as a compliment." She said loftily. They were nearing the summit of the headland now, and the breezes was picking up, flicking her hair around her face, "So, that's why you haven't been snapped up by some high-born lady, then? I'm sure a Knight Captain would be a quite a catch."
"Well, that and it often feels like I'm already married to the Order at times." He replied, grunting as he pulled himself up onto the gently rounded embankment of the tor. He offered his hand down, and she grasped it, pulling herself up beside him, "I suppose the right woman just hasn't come along yet."
She looked up into his clear eyes for a moment, and felt something twist inside of her. If only it was that simple. She thought she had found the right one, but that was a mistake. And Anders...well, who knew how that would turn out. If only it could be as straightforward as just meeting the right person.
Nora realized that her hand was still clasped in Cullen's and dropped it, smiling sheepishly, before taking a few steps away to look out over the sweeping panorama of the Wounded Coast.
~~0~~
They rested awhile and broke out the skin of wine and packet of cheese and bread that Nora had brought from her kitchen, munching as they enjoyed the afternoon. Finally, though, Cullen brought up the subject that had been weighing on Nora for days.
"About the Templar business." He began, hesitantly, "I thought it would be better to discuss it out here. It's not something that I would want anyone to overhear."
"Probably wise." She agreed, "I don't want to get you into trouble."
"Have you thought about my offer? I would happy to sponsor you as a recruit, and I'm certain you would have no difficulty moving up through the ranks."
"It is tempting. I miss the structure that the army provided back in Ferelden," She said, and then shook her head, "But the Maker has not called me to be a Templar, Cullen. It would be wrong to take those vows under false pretenses. And I have a sister in the Circle. You know me well enough by now to know that that colors my opinions on mages somewhat. How could I serve the Order adequately with such a conflict of interest on my conscience?"
He gazed at her for a long moment. Something in what she said had touched a nerve, she could see it. She knew about his experiences at the Ferelden Circle, and she had always admired the fact that despite his utter conviction that mages were dangerous, he still treated them as human beings. There was, perhaps, more to the story than she had previously gathered. Now was not the time, though.
"I see your point, Hawke. And are you still determined to learn? Will it really help you that much?"
"Yes." She said, and he sighed.
"I'll teach you what I can, then, within the limits of my vows. But under two conditions, only. The first, that you will do exactly as I tell you, no more and no less. You will need to be exposed to lyrium in order for this work. It is extremely dangerous. I know that you've met Samson, the ex-Templar. His condition and worse is what can happen to you if things are done improperly. You need to understand this before we proceed."
"I understand." She said, nodding, "And the second condition?"
"That you will swear an oath before the Maker that you will never reveal what you have been taught to another person outside of the Order and that you will use it only in service of the Maker and justice. Since you are not bound by the normal vows of a Templar, I must have these assurances from you, and I know you are good to your word."
Nora felt her heartbeat increase, pounding against her ribs. The world seemed to hang on the moment. Cullen was staring at her with such an intense expression that she almost felt as if he could read the truth in her very mind. He was right, though. She would not make an oath she could not keep. Closing her eyes, she searched her own conscience. The first oath was not an issue. Maker willing, she would never have to use what she learned anyway. But the second…what did it mean to serve the Maker? Did it include or encompass serving the Chantry and the Order and their treatment of mages? Was that what the Maker wanted? Would allowing Anders to remain free and alive so long as he presented no threat conflict with serving the Maker?
She thought of her sister, a veritable prisoner in the tower. Was it justice, the Maker's will, that innocent people like Bethany be kept captive their entire lives, separated from their families? Nora could not think so. Whatever the Maker had intended, she was certain that the Circle, as it was, could not be it. And so the will of the Chantry and the Templars was a separate thing than the will of the Maker.
"I swear before the Maker and his Bride that I will neither reveal what I am taught nor use it in a way profane to the Maker's purposes."
Cullen relaxed slightly, or was that slump of the shoulders indicative of some other emotion?
"I'll need a few days to get the materials together. I'll send word as to where you will need to meet me" He said, "You should spend some time praying, preparing yourself."
"Thank you for this." She said, gratefully. He nodded, but did not smile. The sun was starting to set towards the horizon, casting an orange glow over the improbably landscapes of the coast. He rose from where they sat on the rocks, "We should be headed back."
She stood, folding the square of cloth that had held the food and tucking it into her belt as she looked out across the flame-colored sea.
"Beautiful." She said. Cullen shuffled somewhere behind her.
"I know." He replied, after a moment, and they made their way back down to the path and to Kirkwall.