The room had a bit of a draft to it. There was no denying that. Even though her room in that deep canyon of the Emerald Graves had been little more than a cot behind a screen, there had never been more than a warm, balmy breeze to chill her. Skyhold was magnificent, but incredibly frigid, in spite of the grass growing within the walls. She sat closely to the inviting fireplace, scribbling various letter to anyone she knew who could get their hands on some of the rarer herbs of Ferelden and Orlais, as she had promised the Commander. She was quite successful at ignoring the extra blot of ink of his written name where her quill had lingered too long.
A quick knock broke her concentration; and she mumbled a curse as her quill slipped. She'd have to start all over. She detested messy letters.
"Come in!" She said, setting the paper aside on the crude wooden end table to split into note paper later. Her brother appeared in the hallway, his armor replaced with a more casual habit; though he hardly looked ready for bed. A goofy, sheepish sort of look graced his dark features, and she smiled. Garrett always made her smile.
"Finally convinced they aren't going to kill us in our beds, then?" she asked.
"No one kills anyone in their beds anymore, sister. It's so 9:35."
"Of course. How could I have forgotten? Where are you off too this late?"
"It's not half past nine. It's only late to old hens like you. Varric is meeting me at the Herald's Rest. He wants to introduce me to all of the crew. It's been a long time since I've met a crew. Reminds me of old times."
"Figures that Varric would haunt a tavern. It's comforting that some things never change."
"Have you forgiven him yet for not giving you a head's up on Ser Stick Up His Ass being here? I can still kill him, if you want me too. I'm sure a lively mop could take his place without too much notice. The templar, that is. Varric I'd like to keep around." Bethany laughed at the image of the Inquisitor discussing movement of their army with a mop, but hoped her brother truly was joking.
"That won't be necessary, Garrett. The Commander was perfectly cordial this afternoon. I don't suspect any further incident while we are here. By the by, how long were you planning on staying here?"
"At least long enough to investigate whatever is going on with the Grey Wardens. The Inquisitor has agreed to accompany me to Crestwood to meet up with Stroud. If Corypheus is responsible for their sudden strange behavior, we could all be in a heap of trouble."
"More than usual, you mean?"
"Never a dull moment with the Hawke clan. Will you be joining me? We leave at dawn." he asked.
"I'm afraid staying so long in the Dales has made life on the road a bit more tiring than it used to be. You and the Inquisitor are well prepared for a low-risk rendezvous, I think. I'll be ready for the next one. In the mean time, I'll stay here and help them settle the refugees. There are so many pouring in who need help. So many sick and wounded and hungry. I'll be much better use here."
"Ever the soft touch."
Bethany smiled sheepishly, giving a small shrug. "I'm the predictable one. One of us has to be." Garrett returned her smile, but it did not quite reach his eyes.
"Well, then. Good night. I hope you can get comfortable in this wreck."
"Oh, I'm sure once it gets a roof and another wall or two, it will be quite cozy."
Cassandra had been all but ordered to remain at Skyhold and take a few days for herself. The Inquisitor was truly insufferable most days, but she knew he meant well. Taking Varric to Crestwood when they left a few days prior was his subtle way of providing some distance between the dwarf and herself. It was just as well, as far as the seeker was concerned. There was much work to be done around Skyhold, and the advising staff were all up to the eyebrows in work. With Trevelyan away, she imagined lending a hand would be her best use.
She decided to start with Cullen, as he was most likely to have something suited for her talents: namely, hitting things very, very hard. He had been working himself into the ground since they had survived the attack at Haven. Between his refusal of lyrium and his refusal to take care of himself, she was wondering how he was still standing at all.
The seeker found the commander at a makeshift post in the courtyard. He had located a room to set up his office, but it was still under renovation. Even amid the swarms of injured refugees camping in the center of the keep, it was still easy to find his imposing figure. His hair was more disheveled than usual. A few of his curls hung defiantly over his forehead, just above eyes that looked entirely too exhausted.
"I suppose I would be wasting my breath in telling you to rest," Cassandra said as she approached him. Cullen looked at her as her voice caught his attention.
"Josephine finally sending you after me? She must be getting desperate."
"You'll be no use to anyone if you drop where you stand. I don't care if you are the Commander of the Inquisition Forces. You need to rest." As always, Cassandra's bluntness left no room for argument.
"I suppose you are right," Cullen admitted, rubbing the tight muscles at the base of his neck. "There is just so much more work to be done. I feel like we will never finish."
"It will be waiting for you tomorrow, I assure you. We have fought hard, and won a small victory. There were losses, and there will be more still. But killing yourself before the sword has a chance to fall on you would be even more of a waste. Tell me what you are doing. I can cover you for the evening." Cullen smiled. His own pragmatic nature was only surpassed by his friend's. Cassandra watched as the commander's eyes caught something just behind her. They lingered for several seconds before returning his gaze to his blueprints before them.
"We are pouring most of our effort into securing the outer walls and repairing the castle's defenses. That has been running relatively smoothly, save for the occasional hiccup you might need to attend. I have mainly been working on our next phase, which is creating a system for training new recruits. You could actually be most helpful in this."
"Who is that woman?" Cassandra questioned as she followed that path of Cullen's previous gaze.
"What woman?"
"Do not play stupid, Commander. You are horrible at it. That woman. The one you were looking at. I do not recognize her. One of the mages from Redcliffe?"
"She is… Bethany Hawke. She came with the Champion when he arrived a few days ago."
"Bethany Hawke," she replied, and unknown source of irritation suddenly plaguing the seeker. "His sister?" She looked back over at the dark-haired mage, who seemed busy healing a long line of refugees eager for relief. Even from a distance, she looked tired. She was quite striking, though. Of that, there was no doubt.
"Yes," Cullen replied, impatiently. "You have a quarrel with her as well?"
"No, I-" her face suddenly softened, not realizing she had seem so angry. "I did not realize you were acquainted."
"She was a Mage in Circle in which I was a Knight-Captain, I could hardly have gotten by without knowing her. Before that, she was always around Hawke whenever he assisted the Order. It was not long before I realized she was an apostate."
"You captured her?"
"She came willingly when I confronted her."
The seeker remained quiet for several moments before speaking. "She seems at ease here. I would think she would not be comfortable in such proximity to you, Circles fallen or no."
"I would not assume she is exactly comfortable around me. We have spoken, and she tolerates my presence well enough. She commanded a great amount of respect in the Circle. Even from me, for all of my ideals at the time. I have no doubt she would have been made First Enchanter one day, if the situation in Kirkwall had been more tenable. I won't say we were friends, but our relationship was more cordial than most templars and mages could claim. We were often able to diffuse situations by often coming to each other first with issues in the Circle. That is, until we couldn't any longer."
"Varric-" The seeker paused again, doing her best to weigh her wordse.
"Varric what?"
"When I was questioning him about Hawke's escape, he mentioned-" She stopped again.
"Yes? Out with it."
"He mentioned something resembling affection between the two of you. In the end, before they fled Kirkwall."
"Varric says a lot of things," Cullen replied impatiently. "He will say anything to make something much more outlandish than it is."
"I agree," she replied. "And what I thought at the time. Though, if you wish to dispel such rumors, you do yourself no favors by staring at her."
"I was- she was- existing in my eyesight! I would hardly call observing a person in my line of sight staring, Cassandra."
"You are blushing."
"I am tired!" Cullen snapped. "Good day, Seeker!" Cassandra watched the Commander's retreating back as he stomped heavily toward the barracks. She normally did not receive such a tone very well, but she tended to have more grace where Cullen was concerned. He did not often lose his temper, and his condition had to test his patience even more often. He would no doubt apologize before the day ended. Questioning him on the matter could have been handled a bit more delicately by her, she supposed. Her usual practice of interrogation was not very useful among friends and colleagues. An apology for prying might be in order on her part as well. Still, she knew what she saw. And Cullen was a terrible liar.
She looked back at the mage in question. The resemblance to the Champion was unmistakable. She had read reports on the younger Hawke when searching for the elder. A very gifted healer with no small amount of combat training in various magic. Her reputation had been impeccable in the Gallows, all the way until the rebellion. Cassandra watched as the woman tended the wounded arm of a young boy. Her gentle smile and small display of light magic seem to delight him as she heal his arm.
The Seeker had seen no small number of inappropriate relationships between templars and mages during her tenure at the Divine's right hand. They varied between templars abusing their power over their charges to what seemed like true affection from both sides. Cassandra had accepted the truth that no relationship between a templar and a mage could ever be permitted. The risk of compromise to a templar's duties, not to mention the imbalance in power, was far too great and unfair to either individual. Still, she had seen at least a few cases that truly made her question those assertions while also making her curse her own romantic heart.
While Cassandra found herself questioning many of her past certainties of late, she had no concern that Commander Cullen would have conducted himself appropriately with Miss Hawke as his charge. Yet Varric had taken great delight in regaling her with the dramatic picture during his interrogation: the mage sister of the Champion, in the wake of Meredeth's defeat, healing the then Knight-Captain, then kissing him passionately just before they made their escape, with Cullen staring longingly after her. She had all but written it off as embellishment by the dwarf. The Commander had not struck her as a romantic sort, least of all towards a mage, considering his history. But Cassandra was a Seeker. And she knew what she saw.
Cullen had left the Templar Order. Miss Hawke was an apostate, for what little that word meant lately. Whatever world they had known each other was very different from the one they were all in now. Her prying, perhaps well-intentioned, was misplaced.
From the distance, she saw Bethany Hawke look up from her patients. The healer's eyes did not meet Cassandra's, but instead traced the retreating form of the Commander disappearing into the barracks.