Hawke searched the viscount's face, as if this were some overly elaborate practical joke, and he would start giggling, any second. Finding nothing there, she switched to Knight Commander Meredith. She'd never giggle. Orsino always looked on the verge of cackling gleefully, so he wasn't any help, either.
"The Arishok," she repeated dumbly, tasting the word, rolling it around behind her teeth before deciding it tasted wrong. She looked up at the ceiling, "Very funny, Fizzgig!"
Meredith's eyes narrowed and her hand settled onto her sword before Orsino stepped forward and knocked her shoulder, smiling benevolently at the other two, "You'll forgive her, she had a bit of a trauma in the gardens, the other day." He leaned down and pretended to fuss at her, "If you'd like to keep your mouth, stop using it," he hissed near her ear before standing back up, placing a hand on her back, a proud papa with his favorite daughter.
"Er, yes," the viscount said uncertainly before clearing his throat, "As I said, the Arishok requested you by name." He looked at the other two people in the room, "The circle has… graciously decided to grant a special dispensation to act as our… Envoy, to the Qunari."
Hawke easily came up with the words the Viscount wasn't saying. 'Was dragged kicking and screaming into' and 'sacrificial lamb' seemed to fit the bill. "Special dispensation," she repeated dumbly, tasting the words, rolling them around behind her teeth. No, still wrong. She ran a finger up the back of Orsino's leg. Fizzgig never could resist being fondled.
The first enchanter jumped, then skittered away before blushing a bright pink color and giving her a small secret smile. Not Fizzgig, then. She looked back at the viscount who was watching her like she might lunge for his throat any second.
"You'll live outside the circle, and attend to the Arishok's… needs. Be available when he has… need of you." Hawke didn't try to figure those pauses out, they sounded dirty, and the Arishok wasn't the dirty sort, so they were just opinion pauses.
"Outside the circle," she repeated, glancing at Meredith. No, no. If she weren't Fizzgig, Hawke would lose a hand.
The Knight Commander made a disgusted noise and rolled her eyes, walking past Hawke to leave the room, apparently deciding the mage were too dumb to be actually dangerous. Her leaving seemed to end the meeting as the two men relaxed visibly and Orsino motioned to a couple of elven servants who hurried her out of the room, pushing a couple of large packs at her. They'd apparently packed her things while she'd been repeating words in the first enchanter's office.
They lead her through hallways before pushing her through a gate and closing it behind her. In front of her was a stone hallway, and at the other end, an open gate, the Gallows beyond. She could see the great stair leading to the docks. People milled about, merchants hawked wares. She froze, fear creeping up her back. They weren't just going to let her go. Not after…
Her eyes slid to one side and caught on Cullen, standing to one side of the hallways, his hands folded in front of him, looking at her feet. She took a hesitant step forward. He didn't move, not even looking up. Another step, and still he didn't rush her, no one yelled, no swords appeared. She shuffled down the hall, passing him with only the slightest stumble.
Now closer to the outside than in, she stopped and looked back at him. He still hadn't moved. She took another couple of steps before she stopped again, turning around entirely, "Knight Captain."
He moved then, his eyes climbing her legs but never quite making it past her waist, "Serah Hawke," he replied softly.
"If I ever…" She looked out at the Gallows, back towards the circle. The harrowing was a joke, and demons were a lot trickier than anyone gave them credit for being. They could be patient, make plans, play the long game. In there, they were just suicide by templar. Outside… She cleared her throat, "If I'm ever not myself…"
Cullen forgot his shame enough to catch her eyes, his brows furrowing in momentary confusion before clearing, "I'll take care of you," he repeated his vow from years ago, "Wherever you are."
She nodded at him, readjusting her hands on the packs holding the remains of her life in the circle. She turned to leave, but his voice, hesitant, uncertain, stopped her, "Serah Hawke."
"Knight Captain."
"How do I fix it?"
She turned to look back. He was watching her with an open, tormented expression. It was the most honest look he'd given her since that night three years ago. She didn't know what to say, "The circle?" Or me?
He nodded and she sighed a little in relief. She didn't want to have the I-can't-be-fixed conversation in the hallway to freedom with the man she just asked to kill her. Twice, now. Instead she considered the question before shrugging, "If you don't see them as people, neither will your men. Fix yourself, first."
He stared at her for a long moment before he nodded firmly, then turned away, leaving her to her open gate to freedom. She took the last couple of steps out into the Gallows. She owned an estate, titles, her family had power, and nothing had gotten her free until the Arishok had asked. Just asked. Just said her name. Power, money. These things didn't shake Kirkwall. Fear did.