A/N: Sorry that this is a few days late. I'm running a bit behind with most of my stories right now.
...-...
Cullen took in a deep breath through his nose and held it, eyes closed and back straight. In all his life, in all his years as thane, in all the months he'd spent with Katrina, he'd never considered this might ever happen.
It was a month ago to the day that he'd sat in his augur's hut with the other leaders of his hold, their accumulated Lowlanders, and Morrigan, who had used an enchanted crystal to allow for the leaders of her clan to join the conversation as they discussed who it was who had wronged them and how they could possibly seek to get justice or even a simple end to their involvement.
It would have been one thing if it had been some simple noble. Cullen could have led a small group to paint their holdings with goat's blood, to broadcast their shame to all their people and anyone who might come past. They could have demanded reparation, or simply taken it—granted, Amelia and Katrina had both said that with tensions as they were in Orlais, an Avvar raid on a lonely manor would have likely led to backlash the Avvar couldn't afford.
Cullen was a bit irritated that Katrina thought they couldn't handle their own affairs in such a way. Had the Avvar not survived for longer than the Tevinter Imperium and Orlais itself following these traditions?
After all they'd been through, though, Cullen knew her concern was not because she thought he couldn't defend himself and his clan outright. It was the culture clash that would do damage, more so than either side's individual actions. And this clash wouldn't lead to simple feelings being hurt. The Orlesians would call the raid an act of aggression, ignoring that it was a retaliation for something they'd started.
And that had been what they would have had to contend with if it had been a regular noble.
An empress, however…
How did one even bring such a person to their knees?
Katrina's friend, Zevran, had suggested assassination. He'd stated that it would be a suicide mission, yes, but in the least the empress would be gone and her machinations against the Avvar might cease.
Might.
Cutting down the one who had initiated all these travesties, all this manipulation only might be a solution.
Should she fall, there were dozens of other nobles to take her place, and if the Avvar were even remotely suspected in connection with the assassination, all of Orlais would come for retribution.
And even if the Avvar weren't suspected, who was to say another noble might not take up harassing the different clans anyway?
And then there was the fact that Thane Blackwall had never dealt with the empress himself, which meant that she likely already had other nobles involved. It had been some other noble's courier—possibly one belonging to the empress who simply identified himself as someone else's servant to keep the empress' name out of such things—who had assisted him with the planning of the raids and the like.
Cullen had been generous, in his opinion, when he'd confronted Thane Blackwall about his complicity with the events leading up to the raid. Rather than condemn him in front of everyone, Cullen had requested to speak with Thane Blackwall in private, via the enchanted crystal. While he'd known he was alone on his end, it hadn't mattered if Thane Blackwall had been on his, as Cullen had desired to discuss with his fellow thane the issue of assisting the Orlesians by raiding when they wanted the Wolves to.
Thane Blackwall had admitted to the damned thing, voice low. While the regret had almost been palpable, Cullen still grimaced with disgust every time he thought of it.
That an Avvar—even if they weren't from his clan—could sell themselves like that to the Orlesians…
Honor aside, the attack on the Wolves' hold had been directly related to their dealings. Thane Blackwall had brought his clan to near ruin for some extra goods that could have easily been taken more honestly.
Cullen had nearly broken that damned crystal. However, what was done was done, and not amount of misplaced anger would prevent the Lions from being ensnared in this damnable web.
He'd had asked why Thane Blackwall had gotten him involved, if he'd already known why things were happening. He'd been surprised when Mia had spoken out—apparently beside her husband through everything—and told him they hadn't been sure, and had thought perhaps it was an enemy noble or just something else. One could never tell with Orlesians.
Apparently it was hard to tell with most anyone.
How had she thought it appropriate to involve the Lions in this mess, when they'd had an idea that things could be as convoluted and dangerous as they were? Mia really was loyal to her hold above all else, as one should be.
It still stung.
Cullen had tossed the crystal back to Morrigan when he'd finished talking to the others. He wasn't sure why he'd bothered. It wasn't as though confronting them would undo what had been done. It wasn't as though it would allow him to wash his hands of this whole mess.
Branson had wanted him to. Cassandra as well. While the events of the Veilfire Caverns had been atrocious, it was not worth the rest of the clan to try to seek justice. While it was deplorable, surely, as thane, he could see that it would benefit no one.
And they were right.
As thane, it was his job to think of the hold before all else. The bile that rose to his throat at the way his mother and their people had died years ago was from his own, personal grievance. Branson had suggested they burn the journals and move east, toward Ferelden.
Katrina had been incensed, even as Amelia agreed it was for the best.
"That bitch will just keep doing what she's been doing!" She'd cried, shooting to her feet. Cullen had left the place he'd been seated at—with his fellow Lions to either side—to wrap his arms around her and try to calm her down. She'd thrust her hands against his chest as though to shove him away, though in the last second, she'd simply leaned against him, near tears as she looked up at him. "We can't just ignore what she's done."
"She executed the Comte for you. Your justice has been had," Branson had snapped.
"And she's no better than him. By the Lady, she's worse! She set me up to be murdered to frame your people."
"To frame the Wolves, not us," Branson had snapped.
That had been when Amelia had reluctantly shifted her stance to agree with Katrina. "Knowing what's in those journals, what the Lowlands knows of Avvar, and what's going on now, I'd say she'd moving against more than just the Wolves." She'd paused, noting Katrina's narrowed gaze and then sighed, running her fingers through her hair in a manner most similar to her sister's. "People are incensed over what happened to Katrina. She was killed by barbarians—"
When Branson had hissed something about not being a barbarian, Zevran had intervened. "While that may be true, Orlais has always had a way of looking down its nose at the rest of the world. Do not fret. They find most everyone barbaric in comparison to themselves. Antiva included, I am sure."
That hadn't done much to assuage Branson's anger.
Amelia had hesitated before continuing. "I believe I know why she wanted Katrina to die at the hands of Avvar. I will…try not to use such negative language, if it pleases you, though that is a part of the narrative going through the court."
"You just want a reason to call Cullen names," Katrina had muttered.
Though it had looked like the twins might fall into bickering, Amelia had taken in a deep breath and then started talking again, as though she wasn't immensely annoyed. "In Orlais, there is something known as the Grand Game. Surely, you have heard of it, as it is quite famous." When Cullen simply motioned for her to go on, she sighed. "Empress Celene is debatably the best at this Game. It is why she is empress. Years and years ago, she stole the throne from the Grand Duke, Gaspard de Chalons. Ever since, he has been trying to reclaim it."
"How does that have anything to do with us?" Branson had hissed, looking ready to toss out the Lowlanders all together and be done with this chaos.
It was Zevran who answered. "He is just problematic enough to be a thorn in her side. Were he not so well connected, I'm certain we would have been called in to deal with him." He paused before correcting himself, "Or, rather, the Crows would have been called in."
"Precisely," Amelia had said, retaking the reins for the explanation. "She can't do anything about him directly, so instead she has to play the Game that she's so masterfully won for years." Amelia had risen to her feet to come over to Katrina, placing a hand on her shoulder as she'd given her an almost pitying look. "She must have been looking for someone to use already when Katrina came in and made her stand against the Comte de Forseau. Someone so innocent, so removed from the Game would have been a prime target."
"You think she wanted someone the people would like to fall to the Avvar," Cullen had surmised, eyes narrowing.
With a nod, Amelia had loosened her grip on Katrina. "Yes, I do. I think she intended to incite a thirst for vengeance in her court, one that she expected the grand duke to leap upon. She wanted him to champion my sister's cause, to put himself out there. Then she could accuse him of being a warmonger who just wants to answer bloodshed with more bloodshed. She would placate the court with a more level head, and the grand duke would be seen as an extremist or maybe…" Amelia sighed and slumped her shoulders for a second before straightening up again—those years of sitting properly still ingrained in her memory. "I don't know all of what was to follow, but I think that's why she was so quick to descend upon your northern neighbors. She intended to blame Gaspard for acting against people who hadn't deserved it, and he would lose face."
"But he is smarter than she gives him credit for," Zevran had jumped in, even as Cullen had tried not to think of how despicable it was that people could honestly pit others against each other thus with so little value to the lives being ruined along the way. "He did not make his move, instead waiting to see how the empress would act. Without him to be her foil, she is likely floundering for a way to get her plans back on track."
"And she doesn't know if her secrets are safely destroyed or not," Katrina had whispered. "So there will be more attacks. Even if she needs to be seen as the peacekeeper, she's sure to let more Avvar clans fall, just to protect herself."
Cassandra had asked if the empress might not simply assume her secrets were safely lost within the wilderness. Even as she'd spoken, Cullen had been able to see the hopelessness in her eyes, hear it in her voice.
They would have no such luck.
And if the empress was really set on finding her secrets, she would hunt for them. Amelia and Zevran both had confirmed this.
The Avvar continued to suffer because the grand duke had not fallen to the empress' plots. Worse, she was just as likely to keep using her reach to harm the different clans, whenever it suited her whim.
Regardless of the injustice, Cullen could not lead his clan to war against an entire empire, and the other clans were not his responsibility.
Even as he had considered this, Katrina had straightened up, pulling a bit away from him, her fingers curling into fists against his chest. "We should give the journals to the grand duke," she'd blurted. That fire that he'd fallen love with the night of the raid burned in her eyes as she looked up at him. "We can make her lose the Game by giving all the pieces that matter to her enemy. He'll bring her down."
There had been such hope, such determination in her eyes. Cullen had leaned down and kissed her gently as the silence at her suggestion had dragged on. While he'd merely meant to show her he loved her and valued that she would wish to fight so hard, she'd been rather indignant at that, thinking he was dismissing her.
She'd muttered something about him trying to quiet her, and he'd whispered in her ear that he liked her loud. While that had gotten her a little sidetracked with blushing, it hadn't done much to fix the tension in the room.
Finally, she'd rocked away from him, crossing her arms. "It's awful, but there's nothing you can do to reach her if you play by your rules, Cullen. She's way out of our league. But not his. If we go after her, she'll see us coming before we even get close. But maybe if we go to him, things can work out."
Cullen had lightly gripped her waist, pulling her back to him. "So you want to give the grand duke the power to get rid of the empress?"
"I do not think that is wise," Zevran had interrupted. "Little as I know about foreign politics, I do know that the grand duke is an expansionist. He seeks to extend Orlais' borders. The Avvar are the nearest, smallest groups to conquer."
"Let them try," Morrigan had spat, indignant. "We are not so weak that we will fall so easily. They could not even bring down my clan with a direct assault."
"That was hardly the entire army, my dear lady," Zevran had argued, frowning. "I doubt any clan would fare so well against the full might of the empire, dwindled as it may be."
Katrina had straightened up, despite the overwhelming voices against her. "You're right, no clan would be able to survive that. That's why we need to remove ourselves from the equation. All of us." She'd motioned around the room. "Maybe we don't take those journals to Grand Duke Gaspard, but let's take them to a noble who can contend against the empress. We can show how she hoards her secrets, let them have them in exchange for the Avvar's safety."
"As soon as they have the books, they'll just go back on their word." Amelia had tried to reason, resting her hand on Katrina's arm, sympathetic. "I know you want to help, but that's not how politics works."
"You know, a lot of people tell me I don't know how a lot of things work, and yet somehow I end up just fine, with things working perfectly well for me." Katrina had tried to check her temper when it looked like Amelia's might flare up to meet hers. "We don't give them all the journals. We give them the ones on the Avvar. Maybe a few of the nobles they don't like, but keep the ones about them or something. We show the empress' enemies what she's scheming. Give them proof. Let them take her down."
"She will see us coming from miles away, Katrina," Amelia had insisted.
Before Katrina could try to argue further, Cullen had held up a hand, quieting the room. He'd suggested they try planting some books in the Lowlands' cities, to make it look like the secrets had made it out of the mountains. Zevran had been quite confident that an investigation into such things would lead back to them. Then the whole lot of them would be killed, regardless of if they actually knew anything or not.
Further, Amelia had pointed out that the journals detailed things that had happened to almost every noble family. If they took the information to the wrong people, the nobles would likely kill them just to keep their own secrets safe and earn the empress' favor.
There really was no good way out of this mess.
Honestly, the only thing he could actually settle on was that it would be in his people's best interest if they moved.
Cullen jostled in his seat as they rode on, briefly drawn from his ponderings. It was midday, during the hours that the Avvar normally took their rest, but they couldn't very well do that now. Even if there weren't too many miles left to go, being in unfamiliar territory all but assured that it wouldn't be safe to just drop everything because of a little discomfort.
Or a lot of discomfort.
This was for the best. It had to be.
Katrina had been furious that he would even suggest moving his clan. They didn't deserve to have to run. He'd held her to him, pointing out that a great many people did things they shouldn't have to do. She'd cursed and ranted in at least three different languages, tears pricking her eyes. Through that blazing wildfire inside of her, he'd held her.
Finally, she'd pushed away from him and started toward the door. A part of him had been terrified that she was somehow going to attempt to go toe to toe with the empress by herself. Even as he'd started after her, she'd whirled back to face them, surprised to see he was on her heels.
"You shouldn't have to suffer because some tawdry bitch a thousand miles away feels like playing with people she doesn't even know!"
Cullen had cupped her cheeks in his hands, leaning his forehead against hers. "We'll figure this out."
"Cole agrees with me," Katrina had whispered, voice low enough that the others couldn't hear. "He thinks we should take the journals back. I'm going to."
With that, she'd stalked out of the hut.
No matter what some might think of her, Cullen had no doubt in his mind that Katrina was a force of nature, and he was certain that, once awakened to her cause, she would see it through to the end. If that meant storming an Orlesian palace by herself, she'd do it or—more likely—die trying.
However, as much as Cullen wanted to throw caution to the wind, he couldn't very well do so when so many people depended on him.
A thane couldn't just turn his back on his responsibilities, not even for love.
And so he'd stood there as she'd gone, watching numbly as the conversation had died down, as Morrigan had excused herself for the night, as Zevran and Amelia had headed out after her, if only to make sure that she didn't do anything ridiculous like try to leave the hold right that second.
Branson had spoken up, pointing out yet again that they really couldn't stand against the empress, and that it wasn't weak to know when a fight was impossible to win. Cullen had known he was right.
The clan would have to be moved to assure their safety. They would untangle themselves from this Lowlander mess. They would send word to the surrounding clans, but beyond that, the Lions would wash themselves of this whole affair.
After all, an Avvar's loyalty was to their hold, and a thane's to his people.
With that decision made, there had only been one thing left to do.
Cullen rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, frowning when his fingers caught on the collar of his shirt. It felt like it was strangling him. Even as he reached up to tug it away from his neck, thin fingers wrapped around his, pulling his hands away.
As Katrina brought his hands to her lips and placed a few quick kisses across his knuckles, Amelia scowled. "Would you leave it be?" She turned to glance out the window of their carriage, barely seeming to feel the way the miserable little box jostled them. "There's no way we're passing them off as Lowlanders."
"We'll just say you're Fereldan if anyone asks," Katrina told him, reassuringly. She looped her arms around his and leaned into him a little.
"I love you," he whispered, bending his head down against that miserably stiff collar to kiss the scar on her forehead, "but I need my space. I am going to die of heatstroke."
With a sharp, poorly muffled laugh, Katrina moved away from him, though she did let her hand slip down to lace her fingers with his. "This isn't even summer weather in Starkhaven."
"You are from a place that is most certainly unsuited for life," Cullen muttered.
"We must consider ourselves fortunate that we are not heading so far north, then," Morrigan quipped. She looked about as miserable as Cullen felt. Unlike all the stories of elaborate dresses, she was dressed much as Katrina and Amelia and he were: simple breeches, knee high boots, plain over shirts and vests. They looked like they might pass for servants of some kind, something they fully intended to do.
After all, servants could get into places that exiled nobles and Avvar could never even hope to.
'Plain' and thin as the clothes were, they were still far too much for summer weather, let alone this stifling madness. Cullen was amazed his shirt wasn't sticking to him yet from sweat. The back probably was.
He leaned forward in his seat, hating the way the carriage jostled them again as one of the wheels hit a rut in the road. Amelia had critiqued it before, but apparently Zevran was not the best of drivers.
There was a rather distinct and growing part of Cullen that wanted to curl up and die—or just run back to the mountains.
Heat aside, the sounds were getting to be a bit much, too. There were people outside, though he'd only glanced out the window a few times to catch a glimpse. They'd gone by too quickly for him to enjoy the view, and honestly the way the carriage made the outside world seem to jolt and tilt made him a bit sick, so he'd sat back and waited for this torture to be over.
This was ridiculous.
"It's not too late to go back, if you want," Katrina murmured, peering up at him and brushing a few loose locks of hair from his face. Amelia had done something to his curls this morning, making them straighter and stiff as they swept back away from his face and tapered off at the base of his neck. The heat of the day had already freed a few of his curls—he could feel them tickling his ears and forehead.
With a scoff, Morrigan shifted in her seat, trying to find a position that had the least contact with their surroundings so that the air around her could at least try to cool her down. "I'd say it's well past too late."
"You could sit up front, I suppose." However, even as Katrina leaned toward the window to call up to where Zevran was driving, Amelia gripped her arm.
"Don't you dare. His hair will turn back into that unruly, unkempt mess, and no one will believe he's from anywhere but some wild, forgotten place."
"Like anyone can see his damned hair," Katrina snapped.
"They will if he's sitting outside of the carriage," Amelia retorted. "Honestly. Do you even hear yourself when you talk? Does simple logic just completely elude you?"
"Stop calling me dumb."
"Then stop acting like it." Amelia slipped back into her seat, back straight, scowl in place. "Though I suppose we all are for going along with this stupid, stupid plan." Even as the rest of them rolled their eyes, she crossed her arms pointedly. "That noble is going to run right to the empress and tell her we're en route. I'm surprised we haven't been pulled over and murdered already."
Amelia was referring to the noble they'd bribed upon reaching the Lowlands.
Once it had become clear that the only way to end this debauchery was to go to Orlais, Cullen had known that there was only one thing he could do. Despite his duty chaining him to his hold, he could not let what had been going on continue.
Likewise, he couldn't drag his people into it.
And so, after the Lowlanders had left, he'd turned back to his people. Even as he'd opened his mouth, Galyan had held up a hand. Prior to that moment, the augur had been silent throughout all of the proceedings. However, as it had all wrapped up, he'd given Cullen a small smile and nodded his chin toward the door. "The Gods already know your plans, and they agree."
While Branson had risen to his feet half questions spilling from his lips, Cullen had smiled back at Galyan and nodded to him. "I'm stepping down as thane and going to the Lowlands."
Branson had nearly punched him. Though Cullen had been willing to let him, his brother had stopped himself in the last minute, instead gripping Cullen in a bear of a hug. "You can't. The hold needs you."
"The hold needs a thane who can be here," Cullen had offered quietly. "I'm meant to be elsewhere."
"You can't know that!"
"The Gods know it," Galyan had interrupted. "If even one of them thought Cullen ought to remain, I would say as much."
With that, Cullen had gone after Katrina, and they'd been gone before the morning light.
Amelia, Zevran, Katrina, Morrigan, and himself.
It had taken two and a half weeks to get out of the mountains on horseback. Galyan had sent an apprentice—who could keep the Lowlanders healed through hard rides and help keep the pace quick—and two others with them to see their party to the edge of the mountains. Jim had been one of their escort.
When they'd reached the outskirts of one of the Orlesian manors that bordered the Frostbacks, Cullen and the others had dismounted and left their steeds to be taken back with their escort. After all, the horses in the mountains were notably larger and less tolerant to heat.
And they would have been a dead giveaway that—in the very least—their party was not from Orlais. That was attention they didn't need.
It had been hard to say goodbye to Gunvor. The steed had served Cullen well for years—he'd been riding the noble beast longer than he'd been thane. However, knowing how poorly his horse would fare in the Lowlands helped him to leave the creature behind.
It wasn't like he'd be gone forever. If they could successfully put an end to all this, then Cullen would find his way back to his clan.
After all, he would always be a Red Lion.
Never-the-less, that wasn't exactly something he could relay to his steed, and Gunvor had not been willing to let Jim or the others handle him, instead trying multiple times to follow after Cullen. It wasn't until the horse had refused to leave that Cole had shown himself again. After speaking gently to the beast for a few minutes, Gunvor had clopped slowly up to Cullen and nibbled his hair in farewell.
After that, it had been Cullen who'd had to fight the urge not to go back.
Cole had led them to the manor, spoken to the noble. The God had surprised them by having brought the journals pertaining to the noble in question and offering them to the woman in exchange for clothes and means to get further into the country.
She'd willingly obliged. Cole had been sure to tell them she was trustworthy before disappearing to wherever he went once again.
Amelia hadn't enforced the Avvar wearing their Lowlands' clothes properly until this morning. They were getting close to the capital, and it 'wouldn't do' to have someone see them in a state of undress. Katrina had argued that they'd be fine if they just acted drunk, but Amelia insisted that they couldn't afford to draw attention to themselves in such a way.
Especially when Katrina was supposed to be dead, Amelia was supposed to be missing, and Zevran had assassins after him.
Cullen reached up to scratch his nose, frowning when his thumb brushed against his clean-shaven cheek. That had been another of Amelia's demands which had earned another of Katrina's eye rolls. Cullen had obliged if only to keep the peace.
And because Rosalie had said she thought it was a brilliant idea.
Rosalie…
She'd been the other Avvar sent with them in their escort. Well, sent was a strong word. Likely she'd told whoever was supposed to come that if they didn't trade places with her, she'd make their life miserable when they got back.
She did have a way with words.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and Cullen barely heard boots thud against the ground over the rest of the commotion in the world beyond. After a moment, the carriage door opened, and Rosalie poked her head in. She was dressed as the rest of them, her hair tied back at the nape of her neck, giving a clear view of her face for once.
There was the faintest quiver of a smile on her lips. She was absolutely giddy. "You have to see this."
When it had been time to say goodbye to Gunvor, Cullen had tried to say goodbye to Rosalie. She'd insisted on coming. He'd insisted she not. Even if she was a grown woman, she was still his little sister, and he didn't want to see anything terrible befall her. It was going to be nerve-wracking enough trying to keep Katrina safe in a place where he didn't know the rules or customs. He didn't want to worry over Rosalie as well.
He'd thought he'd gotten through to her.
She'd headed back with the others.
And then, when they'd gone to get the carriage ready to leave the manor, she'd been there, already donning Lowlander gear and talking to Zevran in broken common, biting her lip at something she most likely hadn't even understood.
And so she'd joined their party.
Rosalie didn't wait for Cullen to respond before she ducked back out of the doorway. Amelia rolled her eyes and then slipped out first. Cullen could barely see a tawny hand extend to take Morrigan's as she went next. Zevran's voice was a gentle, melodic drum mixed in with the rest of the noise, though it was familiar at least.
Katrina hesitated before getting up, squeezing Cullen's hand and leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Are you ready to see the Lowlands?"
He swallowed.
When he finally nodded, she moved to the door of the carriage and disappeared from view. Cullen took in a deep breath through his nose again and then pushed himself up and out, into the brilliant afternoon light.