"They put him in a cell and... forgot him?"

"Apparently." Themis daintily pulled a fishbone from her mouth and set it on the side of the plate.

Cullen shook his head. "At least that's one thing I can say I've never done to a mage. Or permitted on my watch. What utter incompetence."

"Incompetence?" There was an edge in her voice and expression that put him on guard. "Is that the most appropriate word you can think of?"

"What word would you use?"

Her cutlery clattered onto the remains of her trout. "Callousness? Contempt? How about evil? I don't think the word you'd use for a, a cook who mixes up the sugar and salt really covers it."

"Evil? There was no malice there, they just..."

"Just what? Just thought so little of him, they could forget he existed long enough for him to starve in the dark? Who were they protecting, dumping a new arrival in a cell in the first place? Saving themselves the trouble of getting him properly settled, more like! Or making sure he knew who was in charge, as if he wouldn't have caught on already. How is that better than hating us? At least if you see us as monsters, you actually see us! You..." She shook her head sharply, took a deep breath and looked down.

Cullen judged that this was a good moment to keep quiet.

When she looked up, she was more like herself again, though still flushed. "I have no problem believing you, you know. So sometimes you let your feelings cloud your judgement. So sometimes you erred on the side of protecting from us rather than protecting us. You're only human. But seeing us as inconvenient trash you could just shove aside - I don't think that's in you."

He swallowed a lump in his throat. "I hadn't thought of it like that."

Her expression softened. "Just needed to get that off my chest, I suppose." She picked up her fork again and poked at her food. "You know what I miss? Fresh sea fish. The stuff you get from the river just isn't the same."
"I don't. Miss it, I mean. But then I never ate any before Kirkwall."

"Not too easy to get in Kinloch Hold, I guess."

"Or Honnleath." He glanced around, trying not to think of the number of people who, when the Inquisitor had decided he was having dinner in her room, had had a quite legitimate need to know whether she planned on keeping him all night. She'd raised an eyebrow when he'd insisted on having his armour and sword to hand, albeit not actually on him. There would be sniggering tomorrow, but at least for tonight he was out of the rain. "I'm glad you can talk about this. I think you were right – shutting your anger away wasn't safe."

"No... there was this rage demon. I first met it on my way to the Conclave and... it got close. Too close. Then I ran into again the other day – it's tempting to say it had changed, but it was me. Between my new self-awareness and Solas' help... all I saw was this wounded creature, howling and flailing and no threat to me at all. Of course, it's not safe giving in to anger, either. For me or anybody else."

"We all have to find a balance. The stakes are higher for a mage, it's true. But you'll work it out. I trust you."

"That's the thing, isn't it? Trust. People who've never even seen a mage, let alone an abomination, don't trust us. The Chantry doesn't trust us to marry, and if they did we wouldn't be allowed to raise our own children."

Cullen stared at his plate, feeling his face colouring.

After a few moments, she said, "Cullen? Why the sudden bashful?"

"Well..." He took a breath. "After you said you wanted to be with me... I... I started thinking..."

"About children?"

He nodded.

"So how did you feel about that?"

"Ashamed."

"Uh..."

He felt a sneaky bit of satisfaction. It wasn't often he surprised her. "In all the years I served, I never considered things from that perspective."

"The parents'? I expect you were discouraged from such thoughts."

"Naturally. But I did have a choice."

She pushed her plate away and toyed thoughtfully with her wine glass. "So did this new perspective lead you to any conclusions?"

"Yes. Anyone who tries to take my children away will have to go through me. If I, uh, we, uh... have children. And yes," he continued, "I'm aware that makes me something of a hypocrite. I don't particularly care."

"You're allowed to change. Of course, there is a difference between having our child taken away, and us deciding freely that a Circle would be the best place for them."

"Yes. We don't know what the Circles might be like in ten years' time."

"Anyway, we're getting ahead of ourselves. Even assuming we live long enough for offspring, it's not as if magic runs terribly strongly in my family - or at all in yours?"

"Not as far as I know. Maybe they will be..." He caught himself before uttering the word 'normal'.

She pushed abruptly away from the table, stood and prowled over to the window. Looked out at the steadily-drumming rain, but Cullen was willing to bet she wasn't seeing it. Her heels were raised slightly, her restless pose betraying her agitation in a way he'd come to recognise easily since that day in his office. He fought down his own nerves, the urge to fill the silence, to ask whether she'd realised what he'd almost said and tell her he was sorry, and concentrated instead on mopping up the last of the rather good sauce on his plate. When she was ready to share, she'd say so.

"We're having this conversation," she said, turning back to face him.

Cullen chewed slowly, buying time to catch up. Themis came over to sit back down, unhurried but still tense.

He swallowed. "This conversation, which would have been unthinkable not so long ago."

"Which in Kirkwall would have got you tossed out and me branded." There was a cold light in her eyes, and she added softly, "Trouble is, Meredith wasn't really such an outlier when you get right down to it."

He shivered. He always did, when he had cause to visualise Themis with a sunburst on her forehead, eyes empty, voice flat and lifeless. No, not just Meredith. Some of Kirkwall's excesses had been secret even from him; others had been well-known, and those who were supposed to care had let them go on and on. And even in the less oppressive Circles... this would never have been allowed.

"A conversation about settling down and having children," she continued. "Dangerous heresy, because one of us is a mage. I accepted this. For years. That's the world they want us to go back to. Where mages are indentured for life, where our most intimate decisions are policed. The world where an innocent boy gets to starve in a forgotten cell. I will not have it."

This was new. Rage neither buried and festering, nor wild, undirected, not quite articulate. It was focussed, targeted - useful. The kind of thing one could work with in a fight.

Maker. Cole had for once attended to his own needs - and given Themis what she needed. Could he have planned it? Did he even know?

"What instead, then?"

"I don't know. I don't. Nobody does, least of all those who claim they do. I do know that there's more than one way to raise a mage child into a good mage. And I'm certain the Chantry has done enormous harm insisting that its way is the only right one, because that is what made it cruel and unjust and even counterproductive, not anything fundamentally wrong with the Circles themselves. Take Redcliffe. Supposing the Arlessa could have kept Connor at home and hired a Circle-approved tutor."

"One rule for the rich?" he queried mildly.

She shrugged. "Twas ever thus. Maybe smaller Circles, more spread out so that family visits are easier. And we know it's possible for a mage to raise their own children right. Not that Hawke is necessarily the best example..."

"After everything she's been through, and not a trace of blood magic? She's done for more maleficar and demons than most templars. And she's a lay sister, now. Not a bad example, if politically... thorny."

The room filled with meditative silence. Cullen watched Themis; Themis looked off into the distance. He had a sense there was something else she wanted to talk about.

She came back from wherever she'd gone and said, "Do you remember the last time you were in my bedroom?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to say he'd never been in this room before; then he realised what she meant. "The only other time I was in your bedroom, you mean. While you were awake, anyway."

Even as it dawned on him what he had just said, her eyebrows were rising and her mouth shaping itself into a wry smirk.

"I mean, I was there once. While you were recovering from that first fight at the Breach. The alchemist was in the room, and a Sister. And you know perfectly well I meant that."

"Well, not that specifically, but I did give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you haven't been sneaking in to watch me sleep."

"Anyway. Yes, I remember."

"Anyway. You asked me a question. I think I'm ready to talk about it."

"All right."

"After the rogue templars killed the Ostwick delegation, as you know I ended up travelling with two mages who weren't actually supposed to be outside. There was Ardri, who started out in the Ostwick alienage. Bit of a late bloomer in terms of magic. Former burglar, tough as nails, though you'd never know it to look at her. Bigger on keeping her head down and out of trouble than on politics – but I guess the other one needed help, and he could be more than persuasive.

"And his name..." She cleared her throat and drained her glass. "His name was Farron Glitner."

He stared at her. "You're... no, of course you're not joking. The second time he escaped, he made it to Ostwick before he got caught. I remember."

"That's one bit he never understood. Wouldn't it have been normal practice to send him back where he came from?" Themis filled up their glasses.

"It would, but Meredith slipped up. She sent your Knight-Commander a letter in which she referred to Farron as a maleficar – she tended to assume that of any mage who stepped out of line, especially towards the end when the lyrium was taking hold. She got back a letter saying that, despite the young man having put up quite a fight, the templars who caught him had reported no evidence of blood magic. That being the case, Sonnilon did not intend to send him to certain Tranquility or execution. Meredith was not happy. She thought he'd been – you know, influenced. It contributed still more to her paranoia, not that I can fault him. He was right."

"He's a good man – and if it hadn't been for Farron, I'd never have made it to Haven. Funny how things work out. Speaking of which, unless there was a different dog-lord jackass among Kirkwall's templars, I'm guessing you were the one who...?" She gestured at her cheek.

"Is that what he called me? Not surprising. Yes, I gave him the scar. It was an accident – I caught him the first time he escaped and went to hit him with the flat of my blade. I misjudged it. That was when the tattoo started. Did it keep growing after he got away?"

"Oh yes. It covered half his face in the end. One evening when we had nothing to do, I let him give me this." Themis pointed to the discreet pattern of dots and lines which half-outlined her left eye.

"I wouldn't have thought you two got on very well."

"We didn't. Cat and dog. Mostly avoided each other, before. But we hadn't made it very far before Ardri vowed that if she had to listen to one more argument, we were both going to wake up with slit throats. I'm sure she was exaggerating, but we got the point – and we found we had a lot in common, once we weren't going at it over politics all the time." She lowered her gaze. "Before that, I'd always assumed he was lying."

"About what went on at Kirkwall?"

"Yes. He'd had quite a bit to say on that subject, back in the Circle. Enough that, once I'd accepted he was more than just a malcontent, I became quite disturbed. In fact, when I found out about your background, I'm afraid I... made some rather poor assumptions."

He winced. "And Leliana didn't know any of that."

"Where does she come into this?"

"She guessed being alone with me would upset you. She arranged it that day because she believed it would show you that you could trust me. Us."

"What? That, that – minx!"

"That's how I felt, too," he said drily, "when she explained afterwards. It did work, though, didn't it?"

Her face coloured. "Yes. It did, and more. When you apologised for even trying to touch me without permission..." She stared at her plate. "I'd always tried so hard to be good. To win the approval of authority. Always been so afraid of the consequences of being bad. And then I was bad, and I thought I'd be punished... but you were... understanding. And I started to see I wasn't just the mark to you, or just my magic, or a noble name that didn't even want me. All the way to Haven I'd been in fear of how anyone I met would treat me if they found out what I was... but you knew. You knew, and I never thought you'd be... kind."

He reached across the table to cover her hand with his. "I saw how scared you were – belatedly. I so hated the thought that I'd upset you."

She freed her thumb and curled it over his.

"So it was Farron and Ardri you found, that day in the mountains?" he asked.

"Ardri came with me. Quite good, really – there was no official Ostwick delegation any more, and she was useful in getting us in. So we know how it must have ended for her. But Farron saw all the templars around and got squirrelly – found a cave to hide in and told us to get him if things were going well." She sighed and pulled her hand free; Cullen thought she wasn't even aware that she'd started massaging her left palm. "It's no use blaming myself. I think the demons got him before I'd even woken up."

"But you do anyway."

"A little. That wasn't what hurt. He deserved better, that's all. And... he was all that remained of before. Without him, it was me, the mark and a bunch of strangers. When I found what was left of him, I felt so alone. Nobody to trust."

"I'm sorry. But... I helped?"

"You did. And now you're not strangers any more, and I'm not at all the same person who left Ostwick. I don't know how I'd relate, now, to someone who knew me back then. I don't know why I'd ever go back, either. Well, maybe for the fish."

"There are plenty of other places you can get fresh sea fish."

"Good point."

"What about your family?"

She snorted. "I've seen any of them exactly once since I was eight, and I can't say the thought of never seeing them again fills me with sadness. I'm fairly sure the feeling's mutual, too."

Cullen nodded sorrowfully.

She eyed him sidelong. "What, no sorries? No but-they're-family? Ah, but you've seen families who just wanted their mages gone, haven't you? I should have thought of that."

"Yes. It's a shame they feel that way – but their loss more than yours, I think."

"Mmm, you say the sweetest things. Speaking of which, dessert. I propose an end to serious topics for the rest of the evening."

"Dessert's not serious?"

"Yes, but we don't need to talk about it."

"Ah. I see." He smiled slyly, watching as she got up to gather the dishes. "And is anything else happening tonight that we don't need to talk about?" He picked a moment when she had nothing in her hands, seized her around the waist and pulled her across his lap, occasioning a squeak of mock outrage before she made herself comfortable with her arms around his neck. The feel of her flesh through the silk was intoxicating; or maybe it was the wine.

"I suppose it might," she murmured. "After that, I'll defeat Corypheus, and you will take some time off if I have to have you dragged in here and chained to the end of my bed."

"That would be an appalling abuse of your office. Also, I doubt being chained up would be good for my, ah, performance."

"More fun for both of us if you do as you're told, then."

"Can't fault that logic." He slid his hands up her back, drawing her closer; she pulled his head against her chest and held tight. "And our children will be fine, mage or not," he said softly. "Because we're going to make the world a better place."

"Yes," she whispered.

They held each other for a long time. Tomorrow, with courage and compassion and righteous anger, she would be back to saving the world; and he would be behind her, her protector, her rock, through the Void and back if needs be.

But for tonight, there was only the two of them, with a warm bedroom and the rain shut out, with love and hope and, eventually, dessert.

A/N And we're done. Many thanks to all who've stuck with it - I hope you weren't disappointed.