25. The Downfall

9:34 Dragon

The hallway was chillingly silent against the boots that hit the stone floor, echoing a pitched tone to its walls. Cullen led the group of Templars forward with Loraine sweeping behind. His heart hammered against his rib cage. The news was like a slap that hit him dead center across the cheek, leaving his mind scattered of any coherent thoughts. Following on his heel, Jaron stalked behind with little room between them. His expression was solemn, eyes void of life and unfocused to their surroundings. They turned the corner for the stairs that progressed toward the dungeons.

Candles illuminated their path here as light danced idly across the rugged surface. The temperature dropped the lower they descended down the steps. All of the Templars were formally dressed, helmets donned securely as if ready for war. Once the last step was reached, Cullen pressed his hands firm to the cool surface of the dungeon's main corridor. The agonizing creak screamed to his ear.

Greeting them, Bethany was already waiting with another Templar as her escort. She made eye contact with her brother and nearly lunged forward before halting to control herself in the presence of the group. Cullen motioned for one of the Templars to open a nearby room. Jaron kept quiet.

"Loraine and I will oversee this meeting." Cullen spoke up, his voice sounded muffled and barely audible to him. "The others will remain watch outside."

"Yessir." The two Templars answered in unison.

Following cue, Loraine and Bethany stepped inside the room first with Jaron following along. Cullen paused at the door, his hand clutching tightly at the wood. He watched the two men stand into proper position before closing the entrance.

Once the door sounded its seal, Bethany jumped up to give her brother a hug. The glee in her eyes was stark to the hollow emptiness that played across his face. She took note of this just as quickly, grabbing onto his shoulders and giving a rough shake.

"I can't even begin describing how happy I am to see you! I thought the rules did not permit visitors for Mages." She could not contain the enthusiasm that oozed in each word. "But, Jaron… Why are you so quiet?"

Jaron did not immediately reply. He placed his hands over Bethany's, squeezing and nodding his head. "Please. I need you to sit for this."

Bethany moved toward the empty chair across the table as he took seat in the opposite one. Panic sprung across her face. "Jaron, you're scaring me."

He sat straight, his hands clasping together on the table as fingers dug violently into the skin, surely bruising. Bethany reached out to hold onto them.

"What happened?" There was rapidly growing fear in her voice.

Jaron closed his eyes, head hung low. His shoulders tensed as he spoke up. "It's mother."

"What about mother?" Bethany nearly choked on her words. "Jaron? What happened to her? Why couldn't she come with you?"

Cullen held his breath. He knew what was about to happen.

When the report arrived on his desk, he could not believe what he read, his mind refusing to register the facts. According to a report submitted by the City Guard, the bodies retrieved from a Lowtown foundry were dismembered and stitched into a new form while the extra parts were discarded into nearby storage units. All of the pieces belonged to women who had gone missing within Kirkwall, some for years. All victims were part of a dark magical ritual to reanimate a full body. Jaron had slaughtered the man responsible for this horrific act but the woman whose head was severed to place the finishing touches had already been murdered.

"Mother is dead." Jaron sucked in a staggering breath, unable to look up. "She was kidnapped by a serial killer. He was called, "The Butcher of Lowtown", and she became one of his targets."

Bethany stiffened. Her eyes grew wide, halting to a complete stop. Cullen took note of Loraine's posture. He was not fully aware of the details to this case, just passing whispers. Meredith ordered Cullen to keep silent in fear of news reaching Bethany prematurely. She wanted her to hear this from her family. At first it appeared as a surprisingly kind gesture on her part but Cullen quickly realized that receiving the information from a Templar could inspire her to take arms against the Order. And as much as Meredith was intent on reprimanding and placing down Mages, Bethany had no prior misbehaved record. If she were sentenced, other Mages would riot against that decision, causing a widespread panic. It was all a strategic endeavor to avoid conflict within the Gallows.

Bethany kept quiet for a moment, pondering on how to reply. He could see the thoughts formulate in her eyes, weighing out the scenario before her to make the best statement in her situation.

She finally answered with only a single question.

"Did you kill him?"

Jaron flinched. He, along with Loraine who sucked in a sharp breath, did not expect this. Cullen stared intently at Bethany's reaction.

Momentarily gathering himself, he gave a gentle nod. "Yeah. He's dead."

She continued without skipping a beat, "Did you make him suffer?"

Jaron clenched his jaw. "Yeah."

"Good." Bethany straightened her back. "Mother is proud that you stopped this madman. Her death has not been wasted."

It was such an odd sight. Cullen analyzed both of their reactions as they continued to converse. Even if Bethany was younger, she had taken on the role of the older sibling after seeing Jaron's broken state. While he had fallen apart, witnessing his mother pass away for a final time in his arms, Bethany would not allow her grief to weigh him down. She spoke in definitive sentences to affirm his actions and guide Jaron through his mourning. In the same moment, she held onto his hands tenderly to reassure him. But it did not take a genius to see that she was crying on the inside. Her eyes could not hide secrets.

"I'm sorry." Jaron whispered. "I wish you had seen her one last time. I wish you were there with me."

"I don't think Mother would want me seeing her like that." Bethany smiled tenderly, her lips pressed tight. "She would probably feel guilty for allowing my final memory of her to be so painful."

They continued to reminisce about her for the remainder of their meeting. Cullen felt uncomfortable that he and Loraine had to remain on watch duty while listening in on their personal stories. It was unfair for the Hawke family to be plagued with such a prominent Mage bloodline. It was always a concern whether the next child would be born with magical talents. Then the heavy decision would come. Do you turn in the child to proper authorities to keep peace in society or hide them from the world just to savor a few moments? Their grief was always cut and isolated, unable to find solace in each other's company for much longer.

If it made a difference, Cullen was about ready to excuse himself for one less Templar present, when he unexpectedly picked up on something that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to jolt.

"Oh, I want to tell him that everything will be fine." Bethany perked up suddenly.

"No, I'll let him know that you're doing well." Jaron fought the sadness to give her an unexpected grin. "You don't need to worry yourself over it this time."

The topic was changed as quickly as it was brought up. If one were to zone out, this detail would not be spotted. Loraine certainly did not appear to have noticed it as he yawned with an open mouth. Cullen could sense his pulse quickening.

This time she did not need to let him know that she was doing well. This time.

It was a known fact to the Mages that Cullen and his commanding officers reviewed all of the letters that were released from the Gallows. Out of all the Mages that wrote to the outside world, he made sure that he was the only Templar reading the letters that Bethany submitted out of respect for the Hawke family. And out of all of the letters that she wrote, the only recipient that she addressed was her mother.

But this time she did not need to worry herself to let him know that she was doing well.

Out of all the people she interacted with, there were only two Mages that Bethany was close to. The First Enchanter valued her potential and they often spent afternoons in the dinning hall enjoying their lunch and discussing the fraternity politics. He doubted that Orsino would go out of his way to bend the rules for one Mage, not with Meredith breathing down his neck at every turn. However, the other Mage Bethany trusted was her assigned mentor. This person, in contrast, would do anything for their apprentices even so far as to go against the Order law.

Cullen turned toward the door. Loraine glanced his way, slightly startled from his abrupt movement. He held up his hand, index finger pointed toward the Hawke siblings. Taking his order, Loraine remained solid in his spot as Cullen pushed open the door to walk out the room.

Two more confused Templars greeted him. Cullen stepped around them for the stairs, pausing to look over his shoulder. "Templar Loraine is still monitoring Jaron and Bethany. Remain at your post until he gives his signal."

"Knight-Captain!" One of the Templars piped up with a quiver. "You're leaving, sir?"

"I have to take care of something." Cullen spoke through his teeth, stunting the two men. "Wait for Loraine's signal."

They answered in rehearse, "Yessir!"

Anger simmered through his body. His visions blurred as Cullen ascended the stairs, climbing up the Gallows. His knuckles clenched and turned pale, frantic blood rushing in his veins. Cullen gritted and ground his teeth harder with each step he took.

Her classes should have ended by the evening. He could even spot a few of her students shuffle out of his way as they hugged the perimeter of the hall just to avoid his thundering march. Upon reaching the top of the stairwell, he could still hear conversation within her classroom. The door was left ajar to indicate that the lecture was over but a few stragglers remained.

Cullen halted at the entryway, his chest heaving from jumping nearly four flights. Asher sat at one of the tables alongside a group of apprentices. They were pouring over a tome while she scribbled something on a parchment as an explanation. She sat on the bench with her legs curled underneath her, not minding their difference in ranks and respect. One of the students looked up. He beamed broadly.

"Knight-Captain!"

Asher glanced in his direction, pausing from her writing. Her expression was less relaxed at his sight but she smiled nonetheless. "Have you come to join our lesson?"

Cullen abruptly inhaled through his nose. His lungs burned. And in an instant, the peaceful atmosphere of her classroom shifted to panic.

"All of you, out." He hissed in a low rumble through his teeth. "Now."

The students froze, unsure how to interpret his response.

Among all of the Templars, they began to grow accustomed to the Knight-Captain after seeing their instructor ease around him. He often visited their lectures or invited the students to sit in and chat with him during breaks. Cullen encouraged the other Templars to follow in his example, much to Meredith's disapproval, claiming that developing an amicable relationship with the youth would encourage less defiance in adulthood and more trust among the future generation of budding Mages. He did not blindly believe that all Mages were innocent, as he did not wish to assume that children were incapable of cruelty, but seeing their earnest desire to learn was something he was willing to foster in hopes of mending the Templar-Mage relations in Kirkwall.

Now they stared at him in disbelief and fear that crept up their spines. Guilt punched him in the gut, regretting his sudden outburst. They were, after all, still children. Still afraid of the world and hiding behind their Enchanter. Asher, on the other hand, did not permit any hesitation. She slid out of her seat, rising slowly as she kept a hand on one of her apprentice's shoulder. Her chest broadened. The scrutiny in her eyes was hostile.

"If you wish to speak to me, Knight-Captain, you can do so without threatening my students." There was a menacing bite to her words. "They do not deserve to be subjected to your anger when they've done nothing wrong. I suggest you curb your attitude before you do anything stupid."

Maker, she was terrifyingly incredible. His anger fractured within seconds, releasing all of the bottled up emotions through his escaped breath. With a few, short sentences, she could guide him to a calm that he craved amidst the Kirkwall chaos.

He cleared his thoughts, glancing at the apprentices as he carefully continued. "You're right. I apologize. I would like to speak with your Enchanter for a moment."

The students had begun packing their belongings by then. Without uttering a peep, they scattered out of the classroom, walking around him at the entrance. Asher remained in place, her stare intent on him without relieving any of her own anger.

"Asher," He began as soon as he heard the last student descending down the steps, "I'm sorry."

"I will not tolerate you making a scene in my classroom." She quipped back before he could finish, moving forward.

"Yes, you're right." Cullen shrunk.

"These are my students and you will not stomp your authority over them." Asher was nearly at arm's length to him.

He observed her crouching figure with precision.

"Do I make myself clear?" Asher stopped.

Cullen felt his throat dry, croaking. "Yes."

She broke their eye contact. Asher remained still, opting to stare at the floor between them. He wondered what sort of thoughts crossed her mind in that moment. Was she as disappointed in his behavior as he was? It was as if he reverted back to their time in Kinloch Hold, immature and impulsive, Cullen diverted his anger internally. Meanwhile, Asher closed herself off to him.

Without thinking twice, Cullen reached up to cup her face. His fingers ran through the hair as he leaned in to place his forehead to hers. Asher's breathing quickened.

"I'm sorry, love." He whispered against her skin, feeling the shiver.

Her hands reached up above his. The grip in her fingers was frantic against the cool surface of his armor. This was becoming a wonderful routine. Cullen pressed forward as his lips brushed to hers. The soft sweetness refused to get old. Asher sighed into his advance, chest heaving, and moving closer to lessen the gap. She was fragile to the touch, as if one wrong move could shatter everything.

Cullen pulled her in. Her desperate breaths in between each kiss drove him over the edge each time as they proceeded toward the wall and out of the door's immediate line of sight. His hands traveled south once he placed her to the corner. Breaking contact, he leaned over her shoulder to press himself flush to the stone. His mind raced. He needed to know that she was not involved in Bethany's covert operation. He wanted to make sure she was safe from this Templar-Mage debacle.

Asher placed her head to his shoulder to calm her ragged breath. They remained like this for a few fleeting moments, content in each other's company. Her fingers traced idle patterns on his armor while he massaged the curve of her waist. It was a challenge to find time together, constantly wary of prying eyes and paranoid of who would catch them. But the opportunity to hold her was enough to keep him going for weeks.

They spent afternoons in conversation, sharing memories and exploring interests. During the day they kept it professional enough. He wanted to learn more about Asher - her favorite meals, her beloved books, and her treasured past-times. She sparkled with joy every time she recalled a text that lead her to a new discovery. The exterior may have been hardened but her spirit was reminiscent of their days in Ferelden. And Cullen could willingly give up an entire evening of paperwork just to hear that enthusiasm.

Then there had been stolen nights where they found themselves cooped up in a private space. They fumbled. A lot. Both completely embarrassed and stumbling like addicted drunks who were clawing for attention from the other. He slowly began to notice her habits. Asher preferred to kiss his temple, which usually proceeded with hungry pecks to his ear. Then her breathing hitched and she would whisper words too sinful for any civil conversation. Straddled over his thighs, Asher would cling to his shoulders for balance while her attention trailed the stubble of his jaw and down to his neck. This pattern was exhilarating regardless how much it repeated.

And when there was an evening that lasted longer than a few short minutes before the Templars began their rounds, they eagerly tested the boundaries of their comfort. With each rare moment, Cullen made his own new discovery to add to his growing collection of observations. But by far, the most spectacular one was the way he would make her shudder from just his words. She was, much to his surprise, a creature of compliments.

Pressing closer, Cullen guided her hips into him. His voice was a harsh hiss that echoed on her skin. "I should not have had that outburst, it is unbecoming of me."

Asher ducked into his shoulder as he grasped the fabric of her robe.

"I was concerned that you might have gotten yourself involved in something..." He gave a playful bite to her ear, "Unlawful."

Her ruin was heavenly and he yearned to push further. Asher shook her head, whimpering slightly, she grabbed hold onto him to find some sanity in this sudden assault.

Cullen could not control the smirk slipping from him. "Shh… someone will hear us if we're not careful."

Asher's hand shot up to her mouth. She dug deeper, hiding the red blush of her cheeks to his cool armor.

"You're doing great, little dove." He traced his fingers lower, slipping into the crevasse of her legs. His whisper was a breathy sigh as he pressed to the dip. "Keep being good for me."

Just the same, Cullen learned more about himself in the process. He was, undeniably and irrevocably possessive. And what's worse, this dependency kept growing with each passing day. If it meant she would stay out of trouble, Cullen was willing to push in order to pull her back in and far away from the politics of Kirkwall.

He had come to terms with himself.

There was no future to be had. There was no room for innocent courtship and heated passion. There was no proposal of marriage. No quiet, countryside home on a farm in Ferelden. No child stumbling into a room early in the morning to start a new day. Everything could burn into ash without ever having a chance to ignite.

Even if there was no foreseeable ending for them to be together and the possibility of her slipping from him became a reality, Cullen would do anything in his power to steer her clear of the Mage-Templar disputes for as long as he could. With any means.

Despite their downfall.

Taking in a deep breath through his nose, Cullen leaned in to place a gentle kiss to her ear. He continued, in spite, to circle at the fabric caught between his unyielding pursuit and her core. She arched into his chest, her voice reaching a desperate high as she sought the touch to go deeper.

His mind meshed into an incoherent mess with all but one thought prevailing above all else. The single sentence he told himself he would reserve only for one person in his world. He would let her hear it for as long as they could remain inseparable. Until the Order tore them apart for good. Until the Chantry condemned them. He promised himself that Asher would know of his devotion until those words were stolen.

The hand that held the classroom door quietly pulled in to close the room to the rest of the Circle. Orsino took a silent step back toward the stairs.

; - ; ...ta dah?