Chapter 10: A Goat and a Beer
When they reached Skyhold's gates, she breathed the crisp air deeply, grateful that this whole odyssey was finally over. She had intended to take care of this back at Haven, but when she had gathered her party to venture forth, Corypheus had sprung his attack. After that it all went to the Void, and with the new fortress and all it required, she had been forced to wait until a week after they had settled to venture out again. All the way to the Fallow Mire, she'd prayed to the Maker that the crow she sent to the Avvar holding her people captive had arrived in time, and that Leliana's tactics to gain a little more time would work. Josephine had told her she could try to solve this diplomatically, but they were talking about an Avvar; he would never let this go until he got what he wanted. And that, apparently, was her.
The trip there took them merely three days. It would have been less than that if Dorian had acquiesced to riding a Drakolisk, but he refused completely. The creature, he'd said, did not and would not, compliment his looks, ever, no matter how Tevinter-esque she insisted the creature appeared. She had laughed and indulged him, realizing silently that what he actually had was a strong apprehension toward it. She, on the other hand, had chosen the Basking Longma, a rare northern variant that Dorian's countrymen had sold the Inquisition because they considered it far too spirited for riders without the will to match. Fortunately, she had both will and experience in riding to spare, after all the stallion in her family's blazon was not for ornamental purposes. She had learned to ride at a very young age, almost an inherited trait in her bloodline. For this mission, nevertheless, she favored the Drakolisk over her Free Marches Ranger, considering the creature was more suited for the uneven terrain, his agility an advantage.
Sadly, no matter how fast and agile her mount proved to be, the only thing that had taken a few days was their trip to the Fallow Mire; the rest of their experience had been quite the opposite. It took them no less than a week to explore the area, making their way through hordes of possessed corpses and the boggy mire itself to reach the fortress where the Avvar held her people. After rescuing them, they had to trudge their way back to the Inquisition camp through the mire's treacherous frontier.
The Avvar and his men had fought ferociously, and by the time they were defeated, her party had depleted their entire supply of health potions (and due to Dorian's presence, a considerable amount of the lyrium vials) but they managed to save everyone, and even when tired and injured, her soldiers remained grateful. While they rested for a day, mainly to give Dorian the chance to completely recover (the amount of lyrium he'd consumed was too much to not have consequences in his body) and the rescued soldiers to heal, she saw to it personally that her people were safe, and talked to the ones making the rounds about how they could face off against the undead more efficiently.
The next day the whole group had begun their journey back to Skyhold. Harding had said she could go ahead of them, but the Inquisitor was not willing to risk another kidnapping; she trusted her soldiers' abilities, but they were not at their best, and although the journey with the complete caravan carrying tents and provisions would be much longer, she preferred that they stuck together.
Five more days had passed when they finally arrived at Skyhold, and after her long sigh, she could not hasten to her chambers fast enough. Despite the fact that her desire and need for a bath was strong, she was deep in the habit of taking her mount to the stables herself, a custom her father had ingrained since she was tall enough to unsaddle her own horse. He used to tell her she owed respect to her mount, who had taken her dutifully to where she needed to go, carrying her weight and obeying her without protest, and even when they did not behave all the time, taking care of them would create a bond between a horse and a rider that was hard to break. She respected her father and honored his teachings every opportunity she could.
She reached the stables and Horsemaster Dennet approached her, taking the reins himself, always eager to help her.
-Inquisitor. I trust your journey was satisfactory,- he said conversationally as a greeting.
-It was exhausting, but if you're referring to the dracolisk, he behaved perfectly.- She caressed the snout of the creature who, delighted, opened his mouth and took her hand in it to encourage her to stroke his tongue. She complied, although her hand ended up covered in a thick coating of drool.
-Andraste's flaming sword, if I had not seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn't had believed it!- While taking a cloth from a barrel next to the stalls to wipe her hand, she looked at Dennet with curiosity, wondering what he had meant by that. -Since you brought these beasts here, I've studied them as much as I could, reading every book we had that referenced them, and one said they usually do that when they acknowledge superiority, to show submission, although it's extremely rare considering his wild nature; especially this one. He's bitten more than one stable boy; did you know that?
-I had no idea- she admitted lamely.
-It looks like even the animals can see you for who you are, Inquisitor.
-He just likes me because I let him gallop every time we're in a secure open space.- Dennet made a gesture that indicated he hardly believed that was the reason, and left to put the saddle back inside. She spared a few moments to pat the forehead of her favorite horse, a magnificent stallion her family had sent her when they found out she was alive and well back in Haven. The Free Marches Ranger tapped the floor with his hoof and made a rebuff when she took a step back, only to show his excitement once again when she came back with a couple of sugar cubes in hand. She gave them to him, patting his head again as he munched away greedily.
Once she was out, she headed for the kitchen door, gathered some bread and cheese from the counter, ordered hot water for a bath, and went straight to the main hall, praying the Maker would help her sneak into her room without someone noticing her. Her god, apparently, was not on her side that day, for the moment she stepped out of the door, Josephine was waiting for her, notepad in hand.
-How the...?- She sighed, -Never mind, what can I do for you, Josephine, exhausted and filthy as I am? I hope you're not expecting to introduce me to anyone in this state.
She chuckled at that.
-Not at all, Inquisitor. We are trying to make a good impression on the nobility after all, and you are…- She looked at her from head to toe, appraising her appearance, -not exactly at your best.
-To put it mildly.- She motioned the ambassador to follow her to her bedroom.
-Yes, and I'm aware this is not the perfect time, but I believe there is something you need to know.
-I'm listening.
-Yesterday, we were attacked.- She did not let the Antivan finish, her posture adopting a defensive stance and her mind already in battle mode. Josephine saw the change in her demeanor and rushed to explain. -Please, do not worry, it is nothing of consequence! I would not have mentioned it, were it not for the... peculiarity... of the assault.
The Inquisitor raised an eyebrow and looked at her strangely.
-Speak plainly, Josephine: how many were they? Did they get past our outer defenses? Did we lose anyone?
Josephine put a hand in the air in an attempt to calm her.
-Relax, Inquisitor. The culprit is in the dungeons, and the only casualty was a goat… since it was the siege weapon of choice.
-The what?- She could not believe her ears. One of three things was happening: Either Josephine was speaking stranger than she usually did, the battle in the Mires had affected her hearing, or the world had gone madder than she thought. None of those boded well, considering she had hoped she could take a break after her bath. She looked at Josephine, rubbing her forehead to ease the rising tide of a headache. -Whatever this is, can it wait? I think I need at least a bath before I confront this.
-Certainly Inquisitor. Please come to see me once you are refreshed,- she said with a nod, and left her standing in her room, baffled by the news.
oOo
A couple of hours later, she sat at a table in the Herald's Rest, listening as Varric told the tale of the mighty Inquisitor and how she vanquished Movran the Under and his terrifying goat. Everyone was laughing out loud at the ridiculous story Varric was purposely exaggerating. It had all begun after she'd informed the dwarf what had happened in their absence, and he was thoroughly disappointed he was not present to see it. He even regretted missing the judgment, but the event itself, he confided, was perfect for a hilarious comedy. That was when he'd perched himself over the bar and began to tell the tale of his new fable, improvising the most ludicrous plot, barely resembling what had actually happened. Only the goat smashing into the fortress's exterior wall remained untouched in the story because, according to him, it was too good as it was.
That's were Hawke found her, trying very hard not to spit her drink as she quietly suspected Varric was purposefully waiting to say something particularly funny until she took another swig, if only to see her strain and end up with beer coming out of her nose. In fact, the moment the man arrived, he had to pat her back repeatedly in order to prevent her from choking.
-You should hear his version of Aveline's courtship,- he smirked, now rubbing her back while looking at his friend with a smile.
-I bet it's as flattering for her as this one is for me.- She did not mind too much that his hand, now still, was lingering on her back, but she could not say outright that she enjoyed it, either.
-May I?- he said while gesturing toward the chair next to her. She nodded and he took a seat. -I heard the trip to the Fallow Mires was interesting.
-I did not take you for the diplomatic sort, Hawke. It was a pain in the ass, you can say it.
He laughed at this.
-At least you got two new agents out of it.- He looked at Varric, who was now mimicking Movran's attack on Skyhold. -And a magnificent story to boot.
She shook her head in amusement.
-That I can't deny.- She pointed at her head and Hawke's while catching the waitress's eye, and turned to look at him again. -So, what brings you here tonight?
-The drinks, though I must say that the company is what's keeping me here,- he admitted with a dashing smile.
She laughed at him. Hawke was the flirtatious type, and that evidently had worked well for him in the past, but she was no blushing peasant. She tried to ignore the voice in her head that pointed out, rather annoyingly, that she had played that part more than once while talking to or thinking of a certain Commander. Even though she liked Hawke, she was not interested in anything else beyond friendship, not that she was taking his flirtation seriously.
The waitress brought their drinks and, taking his mug, Hawke raised it to her.
-To you, my lady, and to our… alliance. -The last word almost sounded like an innuendo. He was most certainly playing with her, his mischievous eyes betraying him. She was about to show him that two could play at that game when Hawke suddenly cast a glance behind her. -Cullen! Glad you could make it!
She almost jumped clear off her seat. What was he doing here? He never came to the tavern!
-Hawke. Inquisitor.- Cullen nodded to both in return, but did not take a seat, instead focusing on them oddly. They were too close for his liking; Hawke was even inclined in her direction, evidently interrupting a toast of some sort upon his arrival. The Inquisitor didn't look particularly comfortable, but maybe that was due to his sudden appearance. He was not able to watch her face before, being that she was facing the opposite wall to the door. He'd known of Hawke's reputation back in Kirkwall. They had not been friends, but he liked the man well enough. The fact that he was a mage had been troubling at first, but Cullen had come to respect him in his own way. Even if they were complete opposites in almost every aspect he could think of, he recognized Hawke was a blessing for Kirkwall.
Maker knew what would have happened had Cullen not arrived when he did, but he had heard often enough that Hawke was the kind of man whom enjoyed fleeting relationships, and although he never lied to any of his conquests that he had known of, he had broken more than one woman's heart, and even enraged a few others. There were enough scandalous stories about his amorous adventures to raise Cullen's concern for the Inquisitor. Certainly she would not be so naive as to fall for it, would she?
She was looking at him with a waiting, patient smile, and he felt a pang of resentment that she had not come to speak to him upon her arrival. He found himself speaking before he could rationalize to himself that he held no claim over her time.
-I was unaware you had returned Inquisitor; welcome back.
It was a lie of course, one that she could see right through. She knew he received reports of every movement in Skyhold, especially regarding who entered or exited the fortress, but deep down some part of him wanted to put her in an uncomfortable situation, even though she had absolutely no obligation of reporting to him.
-Yes, well… I barely had time to bathe before Josephine practically sat me on the throne to judge the goat man.- She had incorporated Varric's nickname for Movran subconsciously. -Considering the hour, I didn't think it appropriate to bother you. I was going to send you the report on the mission tomorrow morning. The soldiers are safe and we acquired two new agents.
He was about to respond when all the tavern began to clap in unison, the dwarf bowing ceremoniously a couple of times before heading to their table.
-Curly! Good to see you came. If I'm right, I'm pretty sure Hawke owes you a beer,- he smiled, patting his old friend on the back.
Cullen stood perplexed for a moment.
-I can't imagine why. Actually, I was going to ask Hawke why he summoned me here.- He locked eyes with the mage, who was now grinning at him relentlessly.
-I could say I merely wanted to thank you for defending us against Meredith, and in fact that is not far from the truth. I am grateful to you, and I did not have the opportunity to tell you that, but the real reason is that I lost a bet with Varric. He told me you would face her if she stepped over the line, and indeed you did; maybe not exactly when I would have wanted you to, but timing is not your forte.- Hawke smiled at him and gestured to a chair in front of him, right next to the Inquisitor. -What's your poison?
Cullen hesitated for a moment. In other circumstances, he was unsure he would have accepted the invitation, and after all this time he didn't know what he and Hawke could even talk about. His past was not his favorite subject, but he did not want to decline now and leave the Inquisitor at his mercy, despite the intense headache that was developing as they spoke. So, resignedly, he took the seat.
-A beer will suffice. Cheers.
Hawke ordered the beer with a finger and reclined in his chair to stare at Cullen.
-So... It's been some time,- he paused for a second, his brow furrowing, -it's "Commander" now, isn't it?- At a nod from Cullen, he continued. -I must say, I never expected you to leave the Templars, especially considering how we met.
-Oh? And how is that?
Cullen should have known the Inquisitor would not let that tidbit slip by unnoticed, and cringed at the memory of the story. This would not make him look good... At all.
-Well, we were asked to find a lost templar, a man named Keran, and went to a camp on the Wounded Coast. And so it was there that we found Cullen interrogating one of his underlings.- The tone when he said "interrogating" was not lost on anyone, but the Herald, Maker have her in His glory, did not inquire about it.
-I knew he was involved in something sinister; I was not acting on a whim.
-Yes, sadly Cullen was right. The templar was actually possessed.- All three men could hear the gasp that came from her throat, although she did her best to disguise it.
-That Keran was possessed? Is that even possible for a templar?- She realized in the light of all they had seen in the Inquisition that her question sounded stupid on its face. -I mean, besides those things that Corypheus creates.
Hawke shook his head.
-It wasn't Keran, but yes, it is possible and it was happening. But something good came out of it: after the battle, I was on your Commander's good side, so I was not dragged off to the Circle.- Hawke smiled broadly at Cullen, almost as if defying him to deny it. A part of Cullen's mind registered the fact that Hawke had called him her Commander, and he decided he liked that more than he ought to.
Varric laughed.
-And by the time you could have locked him up, he was far too famous!- He looked at the Herald then. -After that we headed into the Deep Roads. By the time we got back, all of us were overflowing with profits, and Hawke bought himself some influence with the Viscount. Between the whole "becoming a noble" thing, and the favors we did to the templars, well… We were untouchable.
He and Hawke were looking at Cullen so smugly that he felt the need to answer, if only to save his pride in front of the Inquisitor.
-Yes, well, you were a valuable asset, but that did not mean we were not watching you closely. And what better way to do that than to keep you busy?- He shot a glance at Hawke from the brim of his mug, almost smiling, but he should have anticipated Hawke to not be deterred by that.
-Oh, I don't know, Cullen; I heard phylacteries are quite useful for tracking mages.
-Don't think it was not suggested. After all, you left a lot of blood pooling on the city steps more often than not.
Varric intervened before Hawke could.
-You're shitting me, Curly!
-I'm not, actually. Meredith ordered me to do just that, once you began to show a reluctance to heed her... requests.
A deep silence fell over the table, none of them daring to make a sound, impressed as they were. Hawke appeared outwardly annoyed now, and behind that, Cullen thought he might've even seen some pain there, as if he felt betrayed, but it was the Herald's look of incredulity and disappointment that made him clarify,
-I never did it, though she thought I had. I didn't quite find it acceptable, after all your help. You had proven yourself trustworthy, and I couldn't repay you with that kind of betrayal.
Once again there was only silence. Cullen dared to glance at her just from the corner of his eyes and saw pride and kindness in her own. He looked at her directly and she smiled, spreading a comforting warmth through his chest.
The spell was broken when a second later, Varric began to laugh loudly.
-Well, as Anders used to say, "Put me in a dress and call me a templar!" And here I thought you'd only broken your chains when you turned against Meredith, but come to find out you were yankin' at them for a good long while!- He brought his hand down hard on Cullen's back and almost made him spit out the beer in his mouth. -Good thing you didn't produce that phylactery, Curly; I know a certain Seeker that might've come looking for it if she'd heard about it. Cabot! Another one for the Commander!- he pointed needlessly at Cullen's head.
-No,- he said to the dwarf, signaling to Cabot by waving his hands in the air. The niggling headache had escalated to practically migraine proportions in the last few minutes, and he doubted another beer would help with that. -It's much appreciated, but I have a lot to get done, and I should take my leave for the night.- He rose from his chair and bowed slightly in her direction. -My lady…- He took a second to steal another glance at her eyes, trying briefly to memorize them, and willed them to become his lasting memory once he had fallen asleep after conquering the usual horrors he faced. Typically, he would not have allowed himself that small mercy, but tonight he needed something to bring him peace as he soberly recognized the symptoms of his withdrawal, a good indication that this was going to be another long night for him.
He turned to Hawke and Varric, nodding as a farewell.
-Thank you for the drink.
He was about to cross the floor when Hawke stopped him by firmly grabbing his arm, a frown painted over his lined and fretful features.
-Thank you,- he said softly.
Cullen moved his head almost imperceptibly, and was out of the tavern before anything else could be said. He could never bring himself to enjoy reminiscing about the past, and if he had known the night would go that way, he never would have accepted Varric's invitation.