The hooded figure stood surrounded by the remaining three demons, expertly twirling and swinging her staff around her body and making contact with their acrid flesh. With the aid of the Mabari warhound, she kept them at bay long enough to conjure a spell. Cullen stared with his mouth agape as she lifted her hands in the air, the demons all caught in her telekinetic grasp only to be smashed back to the earth a second later. She whistled and the Mabari dutifully went to her side. The woman slammed her staff to the ground and he could barely make out a chant, but he needn't hear the words to know what she was conjuring. Sparks of pale blue and violet light gathered at the bladed tip of her weapon until the orb grew and crackled with energy.

He heeded her earlier advice to stay down.

She released the energy in a wide cone, striking each demon simultaneously and draining their mana pools dry. The two lesser abominations jerked and seized, jagged blue sparks of electricity captured their unnatural forms until they dissolved to dust. The shade screamed and writhed in pain, but refused to fall. The woman, the mage, stretched her arm out to her side, and he watched as stone materialized around her fist. She marched toward the shade, fluidly drew her fist back and down, then forward and up in what was probably the most graceful and vicious uppercut he'd ever seen. Upon contact, the conjured stone around her fist shattered forth into the shade's skull. The demon floated backward and burst into a cloud of ash that blew over the cliff in the wind's current.

Cullen, still on his hands and knees, gathered his wits and managed to roll back on his rear, his armored back clanging against the rock he'd bumped into earlier. The woman, mage he reminded himself, turned slightly toward him, her face still obscured from the fur-lined hood on her head. He felt the trickle of blood slide down his forehead again and his vision blurred once more. He wiped his eyes and tried to stand but her voice halted his movements.

"You really shouldn't stand, Knight-Captain. Head wounds come with dizzying effects."

He squinted up at her, more confused than he was moments ago. He knew he should move to action, capture her for questioning. Was it pure coincidence that she appeared just as Wilmod turned? Was she involved in this sinister affair? If she was, why was he still alive? Why come to his aid? His thoughts waged an inward battle, quieting when the Mabari trotted over to his side and inspected him. The dog sniffed him cautiously and Cullen remained still while the dog's nose touched his own. Finally, he sat down and wagged his little nub of a tail.

The woman, mage, gave a light laugh and said, "He likes you." Cullen just stared at the Mabari, unsure of what to say except, "What's his name?"

She smiled, "Duke. He's a smart pup and the best companion I've ever had."

He turned his eyes back to her as she inspected the Wilmod-skin shed earlier by the shade demon. "So, those other things were the abominations I keep hearing about?" At his nod she said, "at least they cleaned up after themselves upon death." His brow quirked at her and when he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a finger, "excuse me a moment." She ran to the edge of the camp behind some shrubbery, bent over, and vomited.

Who in the Void is this woman?

Duke whined and rushed to his Master's side, but she just patted his head and muttered a reassurance. She pulled a flask from her belt pack, took a heavy swig, swished, and spit. Pocketing the flask, she began to step cautiously toward him. He found himself staring at her boots of all things. Cullen was never fully at ease holding the gaze of a woman, but he always found shoes easy to stare at, safe. These however, were quite menacing. They were mostly made of the same dark leather as her armor, but the greaves were layered light plate and didn't stop at the ankle. The plate ran all the way across the boot to the toe, converging in an upward spike.

Andraste's flaming knickers, her shoes were weapons on their own.

She was very close now and even if he drained her mana, she could still do some damage from this vantage point with those boots. A water skin was suddenly thrust in front of his face.

"Thirsty?" she asked.

He mechanically took the skin, still in a bit of shock from being saved by a person he was duty-bound to capture or kill. He took several deep swallows and nodded his thanks.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"I- I've no idea what to say, miss."

"How about you tell me why, in the name of Andraste, weren't you wearing a helmet?"

Without thinking, he laughed.

"How is that funny?" She knelt down and stared at him with what appeared to be genuine concern. "I think your head wound must be quite serious."

Maker help him, he laughed again.

"Okay, that's it then. I'm fixing you." He put his hand up to stop her, but she wasn't having it. "I did not save you only to see you lose yourself to madness from a wound I could heal. Not wanting that on my conscience, Ser."

He didn't argue further, for at this new vantage he could finally see her face. Of course she would be beautiful as well as deadly. Emerald green eyes stared back at him through wisps of her long, chestnut hair. Then his thoughts went fuzzy when she touched him. Her thumb brushed along his brow, inspecting his injuries. Her fingers felt warm and soft against his skin, nothing like the strong hand that pushed him out of harm's way minutes before. He was transfixed on her pink lips as she whispered a spell and he felt warmth spread throughout his body. Whether it was from her spell, or simply her, he did not know.

"How do you feel?" her look of concern had not yet wavered.

"Warm," he replied honestly.

She smiled. "That's the spell working."

Oh good, one mystery solved.

The silence reverberated between them and he couldn't breathe. Without thinking, he blurted out, "It makes me feel claustrophobic."

She blinked in confusion. "The spell?"

"My helmet."

"Oh. That is a problem. What good is a helmet when you're panicky and can't breathe? Of course, you can't breathe if your nose is broken in a fight either, which a helmet could prevent. Although, a helmet would hide that handsome face of yours, so I think I can support your choice to not wear one." The woman quickly snapped her mouth shut and Cullen's face flushed from the compliment.

"Who are you?" he asked.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why should I tell you? So you can hunt me down and catch me?"

He quickly grabbed her wrist, "I could catch you now."

Her breath hitched, "I would rather like it if you didn't, Ser Cullen."

Cullen studied her face for several long moments, her slender nose, high cheek bones, the way her dark lashes fanned over the top of those cheek bones as she stared down at his hand on her wrist.

"Please tell me your name. It isn't fair that you know mine, but I don't know yours."

His voice was soft, gentle and pleading. She stared at him with wide eyes, "Destria. Hawke." Destria held her breath. His hold on her wasn't painful, but firm enough to warrant concern that he would make good on his statement.

Cullen cocked his head to the side, "Hawke? I seem to recall that name in one of my reports. Or was it a letter?" He shrugged it off and released her wrist. "Unimportant, I suppose. Thank you for satisfying one of my curiosities. Although, I wouldn't need your name to hunt you down. I've learned enough of you in the past few minutes to give a detailed description if you choose to flee."

Destria stood up and took a few steps away from him, "What have you learned?"

Her movement did not escape his notice. Cullen pulled himself up from his seat and collected his gauntlets and weapon as he answered her question. "You've had excellent training from someone, that much is obvious. The magic within you feels very controlled, more than most mages I've known. Likely a mage relative, yes?" She huffed and crossed her arms. Cullen gave a small victory smile and continued, "You're Ferelden, like me. Your accent enough wouldn't give you away, but your hound, he's the first one I've seen since I arrived in Kirkwall over a year ago. You see, most citizens here can't stand to keep them in the city due to their high energy. Prior to that, I was stationed at the Circle of Magi at Lake Calenhad." He came to stand directly in front of her. "Now Miss Hawke, since I never saw you in Ferelden's Circle before, or Kirkwall's recently, what other conclusion should I come to except that you are an apostate that I should immediately escort to the Gallows?"

"I liked you better when you spoke less," she said evenly. He laughed, a deep, husky sound that Destria found rather pleasant. "You said one curiosity. What else do you crave to ask, Ser?"

Gesturing to the area around him he asked, "What in Andraste's name were you even doing up here?" Destria sighed, turned from him and began to walk away. Believing she was about to run, Cullen sprang to action, drawing his sword in one hand and snatching her arm in the other. He spun her around, pulled her close against him and pressed the tip of his blade against her side. "Don't mistake my previous lack of action for leniency toward you." He heard Duke's low growl from somewhere behind him. "Call him off."

His mouth was so close to hers she could feel his warm breath against her lips. She searched his face and was surprised when she saw what resembled regret. "It's okay, boy, " she said finally, "the Captain believes I misjudged his intent, when actually it was he who misjudged mine." Cullen's hold on her loosened and she gently pushed the flat side of the blade away from her body. "I was not running, I was going to build a fire." She pointed behind her at the charred wood in the center of the camp and his expression softened with relief. "It's grown a bit chilly, and I have a feeling this chat of ours is going to take a while."

Cullen's lips formed a silent "O" and he let go of her arm. "I, um, my apologies, but you understand don't you?" Destria wide-eyed stare did nothing to help his fragile composure. He fumbled around his words, his face contorted with frustration. "My position, I mean. Say you understand," he palmed a hand to his forehead, "please."

She gave him a sidelong glance, "Do you always run so hot and cold, or is this some sort of lyrium-induced madness?"

"I am not mad!" He started to point at her, forgetting the sword was still in his hand and he quickly sheathed it. "You have to realize this," he flung out his arm, waving a hand between them both, "this is unprecedented. A normal apostate wouldn't want to have a fireside chat with a templar, never mind save their life! Apostates run. I find them, I catch them, and I bring them to the Circle. Apostates do not track me or come to my aid." His arms dropped to his sides in defeat and he whispered, "I- I've no idea how to treat this situation."

Destria nodded slowly, absorbing his words. "I've never considered myself normal. I prefer remarkable, or extraordinary. And for the record, I was hoping to avoid you. It was Wilmod I wanted to question, but you see how that turned out." Turning her back to him she removed her staff and shoulder pack, carefully placing them on the ground, and sat beside the woodpile. She glanced at him over her shoulder, "We can't have our fireside chat with you all the way over there."

Cullen stared heavenward, sending up a silent prayer for guidance. A heavy sigh and a headshake later, he conceded and sat down beside her.

Destria hid a satisfied smile when he plopped down on the ground. Stretching her delicate fingers over the blackened wood, she muttered a brief incantation and Cullen watched tendrils of fire leap from her fingertips to lick the beams of wood, setting them aflame. She pulled her hand away from the fire and set to inspecting the contents of her pack.

"Is there any element you can't wield?"

Destria smiled and said, "My father did always say variety was the spice of life."

"He was your instructor then?" At her nod he continued, "and was blood magic included in this variety?"

Destria's head snapped up to meet his gaze. "Absolutely not! Some of us fear those magics as much as you templars." He seemed to relax a little and she pulled a cheesecloth bundle from her pack and unwrapped it to reveal some crusty bread, cheese, and jerky. She took a bite of jerky and offered the rest to Duke, who swallowed it whole. She retrieved another bundle from her pack and offered it to Cullen. "I assume you're hungry. Your recruits in the Gallows said you left in a hurry and I see no supplies with you."

He took her proffered bundle and nodded. "Thank you. I had not planned on being gone this long." They ate in passable silence and when they were both done he asked again, "What brought you up here?"

"I was approached by a woman outside the Chantry. Macha is her name. She was desperate and crying that her brother, a templar recruit, was missing."

"Keran," he interjected.

She nodded. "She claimed that when she came to you her concern was dismissed. She didn't believe your Order would look into it, so she sought outside help."

"As you can see, my Order is looking into it," he snapped.

"Yes, I did see that," she spat back, "I saw an unprepared, lone templar nearly get himself killed whilst looking into it. I applaud your investigative tactics. Bravo and well done!" She softly clapped her hands together. "What would you have done if I hadn't followed? Pleaded with the shade demon, formerly known as Wilmod, for your life?"

Cullen opened his mouth to argue, but thought better. Sighing, he relented, "You make a fair point. I was not prepared for the magic that befell Wilmod, or the half-dozen demons that arose from it."

"Right, about that. I'm not an expert, but I've always thought it rare for you non-mage types to become possessed."

"Blood mages can use their magic to call upon demons to possess another being to do their bidding. They're called "thralls". I've only ever witnessed it once before and hoped to avoid ever seeing it again."

"When?"

"I'd rather not discuss it," he shifted, suddenly uneasy, and she did not prod. Duke whined and went to Cullen's side, nuzzling his hand. Cullen lifted it to pat the dog and he laid down, propping his chin on Cullen's thigh. "So you like me again, hmm?" He stroked Duke atop his head.

Destria chewed her bottom lip, carefully weighing her thoughts. "While I don't condone those methods, you have to admit it is a smart move." Upon seeing Cullen's horrified expression she quickly added, "tactically, I mean! A templar thrall could reveal much about the inner workings of the Order in Kirkwall."

"And now you realize why I followed him."

"I do, now." She expelled a heavy breath. "I feel I owe you an apology."

"You do?"

"When I first arrived and saw you, well, beating that poor boy, I assumed you were one of those evil templars the rumors claim you all to be." Cullen's mouth quirked with a hint of a smile and she groaned internally. Maker, he was enjoying this. "But, I think I've decided that you're not half bad. For a templar."

"Thank you, Miss Hawke. You seem not half bad either, albeit confusing, for an apostate." They smiled at each other a bit too long for Cullen's comfort level and he cleared his throat. "And, uh, I truly am sorry about the sword, you know, before."

"Oh that?" Destria waived her hand flippantly, "no need, happens all the time."

They exchanged bashful smiles and the conversation flowed well into the early evening. Cullen argued against her illegal upbringing while Destria just called it unconventional, but no less structured or educational than any Circle. He was surprised that she was taught the Chant of Light and even went to prayer. She, in turn, was surprised that he seemed to know just as much, if not more, about the various schools of magic as she. He traded his stories of apostate hunting for her stories of her escape from the darkspawn.

"So you all made it out of Lothering then?"

Duke whimpered in answer to Cullen's question while Destria shook her head. "I lost my younger sister, Bethany."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It was a long time ago and she's with our father now." She hugged her arms to her chest and gave a reassuring smile when she saw his concern. "Really, I've made my peace with it."

"Why did you come to my aid?"

"I- what?"

Cullen shrugged. "Another of my curiosities that I keep forgetting to inquire about. It isn't a difficult question is it?"

"It's just, the abrupt change of topic caught me by surprise." His hazel eyes bore into her and she fumbled around her mind for a coherent thought under his intense gaze.

"Well I find you distracting," he admitted, "almost annoyingly so. If I didn't ask now, I was afraid you would make me forget again."

"I'm distracting?" She grinned and his cheeks flushed. "Would you rather I had let you die?" She sighed against his unwavering stare. "If I allow a death to occur by doing nothing, knowing I have the means to prevent it, does that make me any less responsible for a death than the one who makes the killing blow? Templar or otherwise, you're still a life."

"Most mages would be content with one less templar in the world."

"Have you not yet realized that I'm atypical?"

Cullen pursed his lips. "Pardon me for having a difficult time believing you would put your own life at risk with unselfish motives."

Her expression grew cold. "How dare you. You do it every day. We are not as different as you would care to believe. We both hold positions amongst our peers to lead by example. How we choose to demonstrate that example is up to us as individuals. So I ask you, what kind of example do you want to set for the soldiers you lead, the mages you guard, and the people you love?"

Cullen expelled a breath he didn't realize he was holding. This woman before him was, as she claimed, remarkable. Usually, with the threat of the Circle looming apostates fight to the death for their freedom, turning to any means necessary. Of course, usually he is the one to hunt them. This one, however, revealed herself to save him and did so with such grace (vomiting aside) that he found the situation to be disorienting. Deciding what to do with her tore at his conscience. Chantry law, the oath he took, compelled him to bring her into the Circle or kill her where she stood, but he just could not bring himself to will her magic away and drag her to the Gallows, much less do her physical harm. Knight-Commander Meredith would ruin her, of that he was sure.

"I apologize if I've offended, but I needed reassurance of who I'm dealing with. You are a truly unique woman, Serah Hawke." Duke, still resting on his thigh, gave a quick woof in agreement.

Destria dropped her gaze when she felt heat spread to her cheeks. "Thank you, Knight-Captain." Her fingers idly toyed with the strap of her supply pack. "What is it you intend to do with me? You've had more than enough opportunity to make me your prisoner and yet you choose to ask questions and philosophize. Why?"

Cullen took a deep breath and crossed his arms, carefully pondering his words. "I've heard many arguments from many mages; First Enchanters, apprentices, and apostates all. They claim that the current methods of isolating mages from the rest of the world was a waste of their abilities. That if templars and mages could resign themselves to work together, lives could be saved instead of lost." Destria nodded her agreement and he continued, "However, I've yet to actually see evidence of that ideology until today."

Destria peered at him with skepticism. "So, you're not going to force me into the Gallows?"

"You'd be of no use to me in the Gallows."

"Use? What are you proposing?"

"You're worldly, well-trained, and have strong personal ties here. The chance of you suddenly fleeing Kirkwall is quite small compared to other apostates. You're strong of will, choosing not to resort to desperate means when faced with the loss of your freedom. If there is anything to gain from a templar-mage alliance, you are the one to help me prove it."

"An alliance." She sat quiet for several moments, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I know what mages could gain from this, but what could templars?"

"Some peace? A chance to improve the lives of others by learning a safer way to exist with mages?" Cullen sighed heavily. "My opinion of mages has traversed one end of the spectrum to the other. Maybe I was once numb to the pleas of mages for more freedoms. Maybe since coming to Kirkwall I've witnessed things that I once thought necessary but now I find shouldn't be a blanket ruling. Or maybe I'm just suffering from temporary naiveté because I still have my life as a result of your actions."

"That's a lot of maybes."

"Perhaps," Cullen added with a smile.

"That's just a fancy maybe," she said. "So I'm assuming you have something specific in mind regarding our tentative partnership?"

"I do." Cullen nudged Duke's head off his leg and stood up, stretching his tall frame. He walked to Destria's side and offered her his hand. She stared at it a moment before taking it in her own and he gently pulled her to her feet. She tried to let go, but he held on and dipped his face close to hers. His voice was low and threatening, "I do this at great risk to myself. If you make me regret this decision for even a whisper of a moment, I will do what is necessary."

Destria snatched her hand from his grasp and glared up at him. "I put much at risk as well, I've a family to keep safe."

Cullen's face softened and he backed down. "Good, then we're agreed."

"Yes."

He bent to collect his shield. "The little information I have gathered in this investigation all points to one place that I can't really go. The one thing Keran and the other missing recruits have in common is their frequent visits to The Blooming Rose."

Destria burst into laughter. "The brothel? The Order allows such pleasures to their pious, young soldiers?" Cullen pursed his lips in frustration and she reined in her laughter. "My apologies, please do go on."

"My presence in that establishment isn't exactly welcome. I think they fear I would have them shut down. So I've yet to question any of the, um, young ladies there."

"So I just need to go ask a few questions? Simple enough."

"I expect you to find out what you can, quietly, and report all you discover to me immediately. No heroics, are we clear?"

"I'm to be your spy, then?" Another nod from him and she did the same. "How are we to communicate?" Destria folded her arms and awaited his solution.

"You have someone you can trust to be a subtle messenger, I assume?" He hoped she did because he trusted no one in the Order to keep this quiet.

"I have a few trusted friends, yes."

"Good." Cullen stooped to gather a fallen tree branch and wrapped one end with dried moss.

"What are you doing?"

"Making a torch. It's nearly dark and we've quite a hike back to the city."

She cleared her throat and he glanced up at her. She smiled and pointed to the bladed end of her staff, snapped her fingers, and a ball of white light appeared to hover atop the blade.

"You're a bit of a dramatic, aren't you?" he quipped.

"Father always said I had a gift for theatrics." She tilted her head toward the mountainside trail and quirked her brow, silently asking him if he was coming. He tossed his un-lit torch aside and fell into stride with her, Duke close behind their heels.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Constructive criticism is always welcome, so let me know what you think!