Author`s Note: Whoo! Another chapter! I've just been so inspired lately, which hasn't happened in a very long time. I'm trying to keep Cullen a little more in character, versus how I wrote him in ADT, but we'll see how that goes. Please enjoy, and hopefully I'll be updating again real soon.

PART TWO

Astrid decided to avoid the Hanged Man for a while.

Isabel had no new leads on the Relic, and besides inquiring about potential work from the all-knowing dwarf, she saw no need to make an appearance to their nightly gatherings. If she was truly in need of drowning her sorrows with ale, the mage made the trek into The Red Lantern District. Tonight just happen to be one of those nights. There she was sure not to run into anyone needlessly. Plus, The Blooming Rose had a hearty selection of wines—one of the many things she missed back in Antiva.

She was sitting at a small round table to herself, tucked in a corner towards the entrance. From there she could see the coming and going of the brothel's patrons, and make a hasty escape if necessary. Astrid had only one bad experience at a brothel and that was back in Ferelden. Antiva was rich with them and she frequented them often with her captain. Ferelden's The Pearl was not classy nor a gem like the Rose, it was located by the docks where it catered to sailors and the occasional pirates. It was loud with drunkards and a shady man behind the bar. When Astrid had walked through the doors, she immediately wished she hadn't. A sigh subconsciously passed through her dry lips. She remembered that day quite vividly. Not because she was newly an apostate with not a clue of the world, but because it was the day when she had met Isabela.

Astrid had somehow miraculously made it to Denerim. Mathias had hidden a letter of instructions in the pouch of coins he had given her, which included a map and the suggestion she should visit the taverns to inquire about anyone sailing out. After a few stops, she had eventually ended up at The Pearl, tired and hungry. She ordered the cheapest drink from the bartender and rested her head against the bar, wondering what she would do when she got to Kirkwall. Would he be happy to see her? Astrid had asked herself that often—for she was the one who had him sent away. Her eyes grew wet and heavy just thinking about it. She was so exhausted.

"Why hello, you must be new," came an intruding voice. The stranger was leaning awfully close, ale faint on his breath. He was handsome and noble, from the way he dressed, but the devious intent in his eyes had her recoiling. He grabbed her before she could move away, holding her by the wrist. "No need to be shy," he whispered slyly, pulling down the hood of her robe. The man looked surprised but not discouraged. "I guess the face isn't whats important," he smirked tracing the scar on her left cheek. "So how much does Sanga have you at?"

She was immediately panicking. This could not be happening again. Astrid tried to escape, but he held her tightly. "Don't be afraid sweetheart, I promise you're in good hands," he continued, leaning in closer.

After weeks of hiding her magic, she was about to expose her secret. But then, suddenly she was saved. There was a loud thunk. Both Astrid and the stranger went wide-eyed at a curved sword that had come between them and was now impaled into the bar. The man backed away and sneered at the woman that now stood in front of her. "Sorry love, but she's already been accounted for," the woman flirted to the man, who was momentarily flustered before marching off. The woman laughed and pulled the sword free from the bar, "You alright?"

The woman had beautiful sun-kissed skin that was foreign to Astrid, and dark untamed hair that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a lot of gold, specifically a pair of large flat earrings and a piercing just below her bottom lip, and very little clothing. Very exotic to someone who had spent her entire life isolated. She chuckled again and tucked the sword into the sash tied at her waist, "You must be lost. You do know this is a whore house?"

"I did not," Astrid blushed and wrapped her cloak closer around her.

"Poor girl, that fool would have had his way if I wasn't here," the woman reminded her quite bluntly, "What brought you here in the first place?"

"I'm trying to find a ship out of Ferelden," Astrid had answered honestly.

The woman smirked, "Well, today is your lucky day."

She closed her eyes, reminiscing the first day of her new life aboard the Siren's Call. It had all ended so quickly.

Astrid was lifting her flagon of wine to her lips when she felt the shadow of a presence stand over her suddenly. The mage sat forward and cautiously tilted her head—annoyed—how many times would she have to explain she was not one of the workers. She looked up just enough so that her eyes remained hidden in the loose hood of her robe, her facial scar just barely peaking from the shadows. Ready to scare off another customer, Astrid opened her mouth to unleash one of her many quips, when she immediately fell tongue-tied. She almost didn't recognize him dressed so casually, but there was no mistaking those warm amber eyes. This was not how she intended their second meeting to commence.

"Excuse me miss, if I may ask you...a..few...questions," Cullen's words dissolved upon his own moment of recognition, and the quill he was holding fell to his feet. Astrid leaned over to retrieve it for him and unexpectedly bumped hands with him. "I, uh—sorry," he babbled and stood straight again. "Astrid," he addressed.

"Cullen," she answered.

The templar looked at her conflicted, and Astrid could see the flicker of his gaze change—from a man to a templar. "Is this what your kind does to make a living on the run?" he snapped quietly, waving a hand towards a pair of scantily clad women gossiping about their patrons. Cullen's brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed at her.

"Ah yes," she snarled sarcastically, "because I am the ideal image of beauty!" Astrid pulled her cowl down, exposing her scarred face to the light, and subconsciously running her finger against her chin—reminding him of the cut he had given her. She sank back in her chair, suddenly very uncomfortable, and threw down the rest of her drink. "Is that what you see now?" her voice was dripping with disgust, eyes distance as she reminded herself of unpleasant memories.

Their spat had drawn some attention that made Cullen uneasy, even more so than being in a brothel in the first place. "May we speak outside, or am I distracting you from your work," he answered.

Would he be happy to see me? She remembered asking herself everyday for the last three years. And now she had her answer. Astrid was quickly on her feet, snatching a drink from the waitress Viveka's hand, and promptly throwing it in Cullen's face. She left plenty of coins behind on her table and dashed from The Blooming Rose, her heart racing painfully through her chest. The mage had barely made it towards the dwarves merchant's guild before he had caught up to her, grabbing her from behind. Astrid slapped his hand away and moved to do the same to his face, but Cullen had grown quicker in their years apart.

"I didn't realize being away from the circle had made you so uncivilized," he said to her, fighting her resistance.

Astrid scoffed, "Uncivilized?! I wasn't aware your becoming Knight-Captain had made you such a despicable man!" His hold on her softened in surprise and she slipped away. "I would have never had you sent away if I had known!" she continued in a huff. For a moment the templar in Cullen vanished, replaced by the man she once knew—hurt and betrayal in his warm eyes. "Do you honestly believe I would just let anyone touch me after what happened," Astrid defended, wary to the confession she had let slip, and referencing her attack at Kinloch Hold. "I earn my coin honestly," her voice cracked and she refused to look him in the eye.

Cullen reached to comfort her, but she stepped away. "I don't care what you do," he was returning to his templar manners, "but you cannot do it here. If the Knight-Commander were to learn of you—" For a moment the word 'us' was on the tip of his tongue. "I cannot protect you from the templars here," Cullen regretfully informed her.

"And I don't need it," she said angrily. "I have protected myself from all ilk of men," Astrid admitted regretfully, suddenly realizing she had allowed their argument to distract her from where they were.

The mage looked around in a panic, ignoring the questioning look on Cullen's face. Only a couple nights ago, a pair of mercenaries had been sent after her. Curtesy of Ser Royce—whom clearly learned of her slip from Seheron. Astrid closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "If we are done," she spoke plainly, too tired for further emotion. "I can't be out in the open like this," she admitted, hand still tight on the hilt of her sword.

"Astrid—" Cullen tried, but she stopped him with her hand.

"I did not come to Kirkwall with the intentions of us ever becoming reacquainted." It stung more than she thought it would. Cullen looked wounded and Astrid felt she had slapped herself in the face. "I'm here to help a friend, and then I will be gone," she looked at him sadly, "To where, I have not the faintest clue, but it will be far and away from here."

He wanted to stop her as she walked away, but he couldn't find his words or move his feet. Cullen didn't want it to end like that, but she was gone and one with the darkness. So, he carried himself back to The Blooming Rose to continue his investigation, but instead ended up with a few rounds of ale. The empty parchment and quill he had with him ended up with another purpose as well—a letter back home to Knight-Commander Greagoir inquiring about his move to Kirkwall.