Fool's Errand

by R2s Muse

Disclaimer: The Dragon Age setting and its characters belong to Bioware. I'm just borrowing!

Chapter Summary: Cullen races back to Denerim while Hawke falls out with her friends in the aftermath of Cullen's betrayals.

Chapter 25: Welcome Back

Four Days Before Peace Talks
Denerim
Ferelden

Hawke had awoken in the middle of the night disoriented and freezing after falling asleep on the floor of Cullen's room. Too tired to move to her own room, she had crawled under the covers of his unused bed and slept again until dawn, when a startled elven servant discovered her in the assumed empty room.

For a while after the servant retreated, Hawke just stared at the ceiling, her eyes sandy and stinging from all the crying, and mentally rearranged all the pieces she had learned the night before in an attempt to decide how she felt. She was still bitter that Cullen had lied to her about his reasons for joining up. But she could now accept that those reasons were more complicated than she had known. The fact that he may have had no choice in the matter just made her angry that the Chantry would use him in that way.

Did she want him to come back? Desperately. Sleeping without him had been difficult, even after such a short time together. She could not imagine what it would be like back in her own bed, surrounded by the smell of him. Or worse, if the traces of him were gone already.

Was she ready to forgive him? That she wasn't quite sure about, but first things first. She needed to find him.

She gathered his things and took them to her room, placing the flowers in a small jar with water near the window. Once she had washed up, she sent for Varric.

"Hmmm," Varric said again, still holding the discarded note Hawke had found.

"You keep saying that!" Hawke cried. "So do you think it's true? Do you think Cullen was spying on us because the Chantry made him? You found him in Kirkwall when they released him."

"See, that's the thing," Varric said at last. "I keep playing it over in my mind. From what I can recall, he was a mess. Listless, purposeless. The man could barely string a sentence together! If I hadn't been there, who knows what would have happened to him!"

"But you were there, Varric. At exactly the right time and place to bring Cullen along. To bring him to me."

Varric clamped his mouth shut in annoyance. "All right. All right. So, say I did get played. That would mean that Cassandra called me in for a talk just to create that coincidental meeting, and Cassandra Pentaghast is hardly a master of subterfuge."

"But Leliana is."

"Fine. So it's all been a big set up since day one, instigated by the Chantry, who only let him out of jail so he could betray us. Now what? He's still been lying. Are you saying all is forgiven?"

"No," she said, sounding less than certain even to her own ears. "But, it's different if he was being coerced. Don't you see?"

"Hawke, I'll be the first person to admit that fiction and truth have an uneasy relationship. But it's different in a guy like Cullen."

"Why?"

"Because . . . for someone like Cullen, he's too nice. He knows it's wrong, which makes it worse when he does it."

"What?" she said, utterly confused. "Are you saying that Cullen lying is worse than someone disreputable lying?"

"Yes!"

She glared at him, so Varric sighed and added, "Hawke, he hurt you. I won't stand for that."

Hawke swallowed around the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Varric. And, you're right, he did. But I need to work through this with him, and find out what really happened. I need to find him. Will you help me?"

Varric sighed again. "Like I could ever say no," he grumbled. "But you'll have to understand if I deliver him a little less handsome than he was before."

She smiled. "So long as it's only a little."

ooXXoo

The West Road to Denerim
Ferelden

Cullen and Solona set out for Denerim the next morning, but this time stuck to the ridge that overlooked the West Road to avoid any new templar squads headed to Denerim. Even from a distance, they could see the periodic formations of glittering armored knights headed to the city, supporting the impression they had gathered from the day before. The Lord Seeker was practically moving an army into the area. Once the ridge they followed headed too far north toward the North Road, they moved downhill closer to the road, but it remained slow going through the forest. By the time they could see the looming heights of Denerim light up in the distance, it was time for them to make camp themselves.

Cullen was so anxious about getting back to town that he almost burned the hawk Solona had downed for dinner. It was taking so much longer through the forest than his outbound trip had taken along the road.

"Cullen, the peace talks aren't for another four days. So one more isn't going to make a difference. Relax. Your Hawke is fine," Solona chided as she cut up the singed bird and gave him half. "I can't say as much for this one." She gave him a cheeky grin at her lame pun, which almost made him smile. "So tell me more about her, my cousin Marian Hawke. How did you meet her?"

He considered dodging the question as a frivolous use of their time, but then, Solona was right and they were not going to make any more progress in the dark. Thinking back, he smiled in spite of himself to remember his first encounter with Hawke. "I almost arrested her for obstructing my investigation into a blood mage plot."

"How romantic," Solona said.

He chuckled. "Hardly. Hawke was . . . she was a force of nature in Kirkwall. Wherever there was trouble, Hawke inevitably was involved, for better or for worse. She almost single-handedly expelled the Qunari from their brief occupation of Kirkwall, becoming our Champion." He pictured again the cost of that victory branded into her tortured skin. "She gave everything she had to Kirkwall, even her freedom in the end, as she remains hunted to this day for her role in overthrowing Meredith's insanity."

"Sounds like someone else I know," Solona said from the other side of the fire, giving him a pointed look.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but then said only, "Perhaps. But Hawke is a hero in the true sense of the word."

"And, I'm related to someone famous!" Solona said suddenly.

He laughed again. "She says the same thing about you. I think you'd like her, if you met. You're very alike in some ways."

"I will take that as a compliment of the highest caliber," Solona said, inclining her head. "Cullen, I . . . I don't want this to sound patronizing, but I'm glad for you. For how horrible you think things are, it sounds like you're exactly where you need to be right now. I hope you work things out with Hawke. It seems like she makes you very happy."

He looked away to the dots of light on the watchtowers of Denerim. He pictured Hawke asleep in the bed they had shared, and the way she quieted at his touch when the nightmares took her. The way she murmured his name, like a talisman against the fear, as she settled back down. "She makes me whole," was all he said, and then looked back at Solona. "So, dare I ask about you? Are you with anyone?"

Solona's face immediately closed off. "Oh, no, not right now. There are too many . . . other things."

"Are you planning to see Alistair?" he asked, softening his tone.

"I haven't decided."

He nodded in understanding.

She sighed and gazed into the depths of the fire. "I'm glad he seems happy. And now he's a father! I never thought . . . I'm glad. It's . . . it's what I wanted for him. Why I . . ." She straightened. "Anyway, I'm pleased that the succession is secured and the Theirin reign will go on. He's done well."

She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of these things, but Cullen didn't want to pry more. It was already awkward enough discussing other loves with his first crush, let alone one that was clearly painful for her. Cullen could still remember seeing her together with Alistair when she liberated the tower. It was one of his few clear memories from the aftermath of his captivity. At the time, it had been difficult to see her finally give her heart to someone else, but her blinding happiness had made it easier. He had always wondered what happened when he heard that Alistair ended up marrying one of the Cousland girls from Highever.

Changing the subject, he asked, "Have you ever gone back to the Circle Tower?"

"Only once, but it wasn't the same. Almost everyone I knew is gone. You?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I needed to leave that place in my past. But, maybe someday."

"Maker's breath, Cullen," she said, shaking her head in chagrin, "who would ever have thought we'd be here like this, together again, after all these years. Outside the Circle, free of constraints. It was a fancy I used to imagine when I was young."

He smiled at her wistfulness. "Being free of the Circle?"

"Being free of the Circle, with you." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry. That's probably a dodgy thing to say to you, after everything, but it was once something I wanted. Funny, how fate can hand you these things sometimes out of order."

He could acknowledge that her admission was something he would have given much to hear back at Kinloch Hold. But, now, his first thought was of Hawke, and how their own relationship seemed at times out of order as well. "Fate is a curious thing," he agreed. "But I think that things do tend to work out as they should."

"I suppose they do," Solona said softly, her brow furrowing. "Why don't we turn in? Tomorrow is a big day for both of us."

As she turned away and settled into her bedroll, Cullen rolled onto his back and stared up at the stars. The small pinpricks of light had once seemed distant and cold, but now he traced their patterns and saw how connected they were. The same stars twinkled down tonight on Hawke.

ooXXoo

Three Days Before Peace Talks
Denerim
Ferelden

Hawke picked at her breakfast the next morning and focused on her tea, the warmth spreading through her hand but not as far as the cold rime around her heart. She winced at the overly bright sunlight streaming into the sunroom and tried to tune out her friends' chatter around her once she had listened carefully to Varric's update on his search for Cullen.

Varric had couched his lack of success in words that indirectly told Hawke to prepare herself for disappointment. No one had seen him in the palace, which suggested he might have left altogether, but then no one had seen him leave either. Varric expanded his search out into the city, asking in the marketplace, the Chantry, finally the main gates out to the West and North Roads. No one could remember someone of Cullen's description, which unfortunately could describe so many men, especially without the armor he had left behind.

"It's a good bet that he's long gone, Hawke. If you told him to leave, he probably did just that," Varric said, sounding imminently logical, but also glancing at her sidelong to gauge her reaction.

She kept her gaze focused on the spoon stirring her tea. "But you won't stop searching?" she asked softly.

"No, no, of course not," he said, "although . . ." Hawke tuned out Varric's next words. The crush of doubt and remorse was more than she could handle this morning. She waited to hear a pause in the string of sounds leaving his mouth and just grunted in response.

"It's better that Cullen's gone, anyway," Merrill suddenly chimed in and Hawke's ears unfortunately perked up. "I don't think I could have pretended to be nice." Merrill's bow-like mouth turned down into an uncharacteristic frown.

"I doubt any of us could," said Fenris, still surly from the early hour.

"Wait. Do you think he only pretended to be nice to me?" Merrill asked. "I thought he actually started to like me, but maybe that was also a lie?"

"Cullen had nothing to gain from being nice to you, Merrill," Hawke said, wishing that Merrill would just stop. That they all would just stop.

"Nothing to gain except Hawke's good graces," Fenris said. He glowered under his dark brows and shot a reproachful glance at Hawke.

"And to dull all our sensibilities," Varric mused. "I knew there was something off when we played Diamondback. Honest men should not be so good at bluffing."

Fenris grunted and his frown deepened. "Or winning. Perhaps he lied about his skill as well."

Anders breezed into the sunroom at that moment, smiling idly like all was right with the world. "He was clearly playing everyone from the first moment," Anders said. "Who knows how much truth there was in any of his stories from the past three years. We're lucky to be clear of him."

Hawke's face flushed as the others all glanced uneasily at her after Anders's statements. She kept her eyes down and tried again to focus on stirring her tea, watching the soothing vortex spinning down into the depths of the cup.

"I knew he couldn't be trusted," Anders continued. Hawke stirred more furiously and the vortex deepened into a darkening maw. "I told you all so—"

"Enough!" Hawke roared, rising to her feet while her chair grated loudly across the cold slate floor. Everyone jumped and the room fell silent. Outside, a passing cloud dimmed the blinding sunlight momentarily and provided a moment's respite.

After a pregnant pause, Anders said, "Look, Hawke, we're as sorry as you are that this has happened. No one likes to feel that they've been taken in. But it's also a bit much for you to expect us to forgive him. And, frankly, we can't believe that you already have!"

Hawke went cold at his accusation, but everyone else shifted uncomfortably, except Merrill whose jaw dropped open. "Anders!" Merrill cried in admonishment.

"You're all thinking it," he replied. "Just no one else will say it." He looked back at Hawke. "He lied to you. To all of us. And that's not how we work, and certainly not how you've always worked. So find him if you must. But don't expect us to welcome him back as easily."

Hawke was rooted to the spot and felt like all the blood had drained from her face. She looked around at her friends, and none of them were brave enough to look her in the eye. She nodded slowly and wet her lower lip. "I see. Well. Okay then."

"Hawke . . ." Merrill started, raising a hand in supplication, but Hawke stopped her.

"No. It's all right. I'll just . . ." She swallowed. "I'll just go then." Hawke pushed away from the table and strode out the door.

Behind her, an angry buzz immediately started up, but the only words she could make out were from Anders saying, "Well, it's true!"

Hawke avoided her friends after that and instead threw herself into the preparations for the talks. She was the only one of them with an actual role to play during the event, despite her repeated reminders to Alistair that she was no diplomat. But she had agreed to help and frankly needed the distraction.

Alistair had decided to put her in charge of some of the mages' more exacting requirements, like no weapons in the negotiations. The King's advisors had been most resistant to this requirement, demanding at least some protection for the King during the proceedings. Hawke had found herself in the unlikely position of defending the mages' condition, pointing out that if they did their job right, everyone would be safe. The advisors were only mollified once they decided that the elite palace guard would oversee the proceedings under Hawke's direction. Knowing that both the mages and templars were equipped with their own innate abilities, independent of weapons, Hawke found it fitting that the only ones disadvantaged by the rule were herself and the palace guard anyway. So she had her work cut out for her.

As an added precaution, Alistair had put the city on lock down as well, declaring that the only persons allowed into Denerim that week were those who had legitimate business. Traffic into the city slowed to a standstill as overwhelmed city guards attempted to question everyone coming in, from farmers headed to market to nobles headed home to the palace district.

The Lord Seeker informed them of his intention to arrive the day before the talks, but there had been no word from the mages. With Rhys's concerns over safety, Hawke fully expected the mage representatives to appear in a puff of smoke at exactly the appointed time in Fort Drakon. She even suggested that they warn the city guard to expect some variation of this to make sure that the important parties for the talks were allowed in.

Once all the arrangements were in place, however, Hawke could only wait, and think, and worry. Where had Cullen gone? And how would she ever make this right with her friends?

ooXXoo

The West Road to Denerim
Ferelden

Cullen and Solona started out early to make their way slowly back along the West Road, which became increasingly congested as they approached Denerim. They worked their way into the crowd, and the crush of people made it easier for them to blend in, even under the watchful eye of the next templar patrol. As they walked up to the gate, however, they discovered the source of the bottleneck, since the city guards were questioning everyone who came in.

Cullen gave Solona a questioning glance. "Hard to say what they're looking for," she replied. "But we can't hide from anyone for long in this city, so there's little point."

"If you say so," he said skeptically.

The shadows had lengthened by the time their turn came to jostle through the gate. Two extremely bored city guardsmen questioned the farmer ahead of them, who launched into a lengthy explanation of harvest timing and marketplace cycles that finally had the guardsman waving him through in relief.

When their turn arrived, Cullen and Solona walked up to the guards, but were pushed out of the way by the gate guards who ordered them back to make way for another column of templars coming through the gate. "Make way! Make way!" shouted one of the guards as he ushered the templars through.

Finally once they had passed, Cullen and Solona approached the guard, who looked at them suspiciously, his beady eyes narrowing. "And what brings you to Denerim, serrah?" he asked Cullen, eyeing his sword and Solona's well-used staff, which she held in her hand with no attempt to hide it.

"Grey Warden business, my good man, which means none of yours," Solona interrupted.

The man could not hide his shock, whether at being so rudely set down or because she was a warden, Cullen could not tell. "Grey Warden, eh? And does that make me an Antivan crow?" He chuckled and elbowed his fellow guardsman, a man with a droopy moustache who had not really been paying attention. The first man pointed at her. "Get this. Grey Warden."

The guard with the mustache frowned in concern. "Now, no suspicious folk allowed in the city this week due to an important meeting. On orders of the King."

"And the stream of templars into the city is not cause for suspicion?" Cullen asked.

The first guard rolled his beady eyes at Cullen. "They ain't suspicious. They're templars. They've been coming in all week, on account of the Lord Seeker himself arriving soon for the meeting. They keep the peace. Just like why we're out here."

"Well, then, you may tell your King that the Hero of Ferelden has also arrived for that meeting," Solona said, her eyes flashing with anger. Both men started at mention of such a figure of legend, and side eyed each other in an attempt to tell whether the other was taking this claim seriously. "Or rather, I can tell Alistair myself that I was treated as a suspicious person when I see him and Elissa at the palace." She tossed her head high, threw back her shoulders, and suddenly her whole posture spoke of unfathomable power.

Both men instantly cowered before her. "Blessed Andraste forgive me, My Lady, you are welcome to Denerim," the beady-eyed man stammered before bowing his head.

"Maker's blessing on you, My Lady," said the guard with the mustache, his eyes bright in admiration. "Please, we didn't mean anything. Had to do our duty."

"I will commend you to your King for keeping the city safe," she said in a ringing tone that almost made Cullen laugh out loud. "Now we will be on our way."

She swept past them into the city, and Cullen could only follow, his shoulders shaking from suppressed mirth.

Once they were out of earshot, she turned to him and asked ruefully, "What?"

He laughed hard. "I'm sorry. I haven't met the Hero of Ferelden before, apparently. Does she do an encore?"

She smiled sheepishly. "If you're going to be famous, you might as well put your fame to good use when needed." She punched him in the shoulder. "Stop laughing!"

"Oh I would never risk laughing at the mighty Hero of Ferelden," he said, still failing to stop. So she punched him again, this time with weight behind it. "Ow."

"You deserved that," she said, sniffing in pique. "The downside is that now it's unlikely we'll remain incognito." She sighed, her good humor slipping away. "I guess I'll be seeing Alistair after all."

"If I'm going to see Hawke, then that was inevitable anyway."

"You're probably right. So, do we go find them, or wait for them to find us?" she asked.

His palms suddenly became clammy at the thought of having to face Hawke again. He had gone through a number of scenarios of explaining why he had flouted her wishes and come back, but he knew they all sounded better in his head, from a safe distance. Now that he was here, a short half-hour walk from seeing her again, he was scared. "It can't hurt to have a good meal in our stomachs first," he suggested.

She smiled her agreement. "All right then, where to? Last time I was here, half the city was still burned down."

He took them to an inn that faced onto the marketplace. It was one of the first that Hawke had tried on their first trip to Denerim for the ball, so he figured it would be good enough, but not so upscale that he might worry they would be recognized. They slipped into an empty table in the crowded middle of the taproom, and waited for one of the harried servers to come their way. Eventually a dour-faced man took their order and trudged off to the bar.

Solona looked around. "I don't think this inn was here last time I was in Denerim."

"Has it been so long?"

"Long enough," she said, with a tight smile. "There were enough reasons to stay away. Then Alistair got married, and there were . . . more."

"I'm sorry. That sounds difficult."

She laughed, but it was a disconsolate sound. "So, I know a bit of something about being told to leave. Sometimes . . . well, sometimes I wish someone had told me to go back, too."

"Solona, you don't have to come with me," he offered. It was starting sound like seeing Alistair again perhaps was not such a good idea.

"No, I'm a big girl. And life goes on. You're proof of that!"

"We shall see," he said with a wry grimace. "If Hawke runs me through on sight, we will know we were wrong."

Cullen looked over his shoulder and could have sworn that several people suddenly looked away. He started to pay attention, and realized it was not his imagination. There was now a buzz in the tables around them, and multiple patrons were watching them. "News travels fast," he said quietly to Solona, and out of habit, loosened his sword in its scabbard.

She sighed. "Seems so."

A minute or two later, a stately woman in expensive leathers but with a lean look to her face walked over to the table. "Solona Amell," the woman said.

Solona inclined her head. "Bann Alfstanna. A pleasure."

The affirmation of Solona's identity was quickly picked up by the adjacent tables and spread like wildfire through the inn. The whispers were now an inescapable din.

"Word is, Hero of Ferelden has been missing. Good to see the rumors were misinformed. The world is a sad place when its heroes are gone."

"Ah, but new heroes always rise, My Lady. No one is irreplaceable."

Alfstanna chuckled deeply. "Wise words. Nevertheless, I for one am glad to see you back in the world." She raised her glass and, in a voice that carried across the taproom, said, "To the Hero of Ferelden. Welcome back." Behind her a slow roar grew as the toast was repeated back by countless voices around the room.

Solona, usually unflappable, looked genuinely touched. She inclined her head in thanks at the Bann, and then around the room, catching as many eyes as she could. "Thank you," she said, her eyes shining overbrightly.

Alfstanna nodded, and then walked back to her table. No one else seemed brave enough to approach their table, for which Cullen was grateful. Solona was already reliving her emotional past without more attention being thrown her way. He reached out his hand across the table top to her, and she grabbed it, squeezing it once.

Their server finally returned, but now gazed at Solona in awe. "Compliments of the house, My Lady," he mumbled as he set their food down on the table.

"Please give the proprietor my thanks," she said, and then dug into her food, head down, so she could avoid further embarrassment.

No one bothered them for some time as they ate, but once they had finished, some patrons would stop by the table on their way out, and say thank you or touch their fingers to their forehead in a sign of respect.

Cullen had never seen anything like it, even with Hawke who was every bit as famous as Solona. The difference, he mused, must be that Solona had swept in from obscurity to save the people of Denerim—of all Ferelden—from sure destruction, and then had vanished like a martyr. There was something mythic to her story in a way that the Tale of the Champion lacked, especially when most of the residents of Kirkwall knew Hawke personally.

When they finally got ready to leave, Solona tried to pay the innkeeper, who demurred, repeating again that it was compliments of the house. So she merely thanked them.

It was late when they stepped out into the street, and Cullen now questioned their logic in delaying their trip up to the palace. Few lanterns lit the street and the long shadows obscured their path. Cullen had taken it often enough in the past few months, but it was still very different in the dark.

He tried to guide them on the most direct route, realizing belatedly that it took them through an unsavory part of town near the river. He pointed this out to Solona with an apology.

She shrugged and laughed it off. "That is at least something I remember about Denerim."

Cullen had to threaten a small-time thief who had started following them, but luckily the thief seemed to recognize that Cullen and Solona were too much for him to handle. They were drawing closer, turning the corner onto a deserted plaza at the edge of the palace district, when Solona stopped suddenly.

"Wha—" Cullen tried to ask, but she pressed a finger to her lips, silencing him.

She looked around the plaza, searching for something, and slowly drew her staff from where it had been strapped to her back. The night was dark and moonless since they were scant days before the new moon. Solona paused and then with a quick thrust of her staff, slammed it down onto the pavement and sent a surging burst of light up above their heads, illuminating the entire open area.

On the opposite side, formerly hidden in shadow were a swarm of armed men in dark hoods and clothing. Hawke's dogged pursuers. Discovered, they started to sprint toward her, but another spin of her staff, and the swirling sphere of light above their heads shot down a shower of arcing lightning over the faceless attackers. Some dodged, but not all were so lucky. At least two shuddered to the ground with a distant, horrible sizzling sound on the air.

As with their previous attacks, these men in black were prepared and disciplined. They made not a sound as they came, and seemed to expect the outcome of Solona's magic. She immediately sent off a series of blazing arcs of fire from her staff as it twirled in the air while the men continued on, dodging in and out of the barrage.

Cullen stood back, giving her room to maneuver, until the first few came into melee range. Then, he engaged, catching the first blow against his shield and shoving the man back. He found it freeing to move without his breastplate and had to compensate for the difference in weight, but then it was like he was back on the ship with Hawke, moving through with swift, continuous motion that was almost by the book from his training forms. Cullen dodged a strike, and let his momentum carry him into the man's guard, catching the unprotected joint of his attacker's vambrace, and then as quickly, whipping his sword low to hamstring the man as he attempted to twist away from the blow in pain.

Then, Cullen had moved onto the next, blocking multiple blows with his shield, and then spinning to catch the edge of his shield against an assailant's throat, at a minimum crushing his windpipe. But Cullen did not stop, and did not tire as he would normally. The battle became a blur of precise movement, and he started to time his movements with a murmur of the Chant under his breath.

Unfortunately, he finally took one off step, and felt the crunch of a sword slide through his leather jerkin in a blow that easily would have glanced off his abandoned breastplate. It was so unexpected that Cullen paused to watch the sword pierce his abdomen, and the subsequent gush of blood felt like it was happening to someone else. He came back to himself when it grated painfully on a bone, and with a last ditch effort, he knocked the attacker away with his shield. The man fell away, taking his sword with him, but Cullen still buckled to his knees as the pain overwhelmed him and his vision darkened at the edges. He held a hand to his side, trying to hold in the blood and whatever else, but he could feel his strength slipping away with the pound of his heartbeat in his temples. He looked up at the hooded man who stood over him and waited for the final blow that would not come. The man looked away, saying something Cullen could not hear, and then there was another hooded man before him. A man with familiar silver eyes who looked him over clinically.

Then, everything went dark, and Cullen felt himself falling. The last thing he could make out was a cry of "Cullen, no!"

A/N: Still apart, but at least our heroes are all back in the same town. :) Next up: Chapter 26: Ten, where we'll learn Cullen's fate.