Welp! Here it is, late as hell as per usual. Though this time I made it almost twice as long as my normal chapters to make up for it. Forgive me? :) I tried to have a good mix of serious and silly without it being weird, but we'll see I guess! Also, the next chapter will most likely have some Cullen POV.
Anders
"He is bound and abused, and you want him caged. Why?" Astrid asked, looking up at the Qunari looming before her. They had been approached by them upon making it out of Petrice's passage way and prospects weren't looking well. The mage Qunari—Ketojan, the chantry woman had called him, kneeled silently beside her, head bowed in either defeat or acceptance—Anders couldn't tell.
He didn't know much about the gargantuan grey skinned race, but what he did he didn't understand. He just hoped Astrid knew what she was doing.
"The power that he has, that all Saarebas have, draws from chaos and demons. They can never be in control!" answered Arvaarad, the leader of the band of Qunari standing before them with sharp weapons and sour looks on their faces.
"So you fear them," she said, a determined glint in her eyes. There were many Qunari warriors in the area by the cliffs but he'd never known her to turn down a challenge.
"Like so many others," Anders added, shaking his head. He wasn't about to back down either. Not with the pitiful Saarebas knelt in submission, bound with his eyes and lips sewn shut. It was disgusting.
Deplorable, Justice added, growing angrier with every second the mage looked at the creature. We must stop this.
The warrior glared from behind his helmet. "We leash the Saarebas because they are dangerous and contagious. Not even your templars grasp that threat."
Astrid rolled her eyes, placing a hand on her hip. "Now that's just a bit dramatic, don't you think? Mages aren't just untamed creatures ready to kill. Look at Anders for instance," she said, gesturing at the mage.
Andraste's ass, do not look at me, he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Astrid, I wouldn't…"
She ignored him. "Are mages like him so dangerous? He hasn't made any attempts to hurt your people or mine. Is there any reason to fear him?"
The Qunari grew angry then, pacing and rumbling to each other. "You…are Saarebas? Bas Saarebas?" the leader asked, backing away in astonishment.
"Hm. I don't think they like you," Isabela said, placing a finger to her lips contemplatively.
"Can't imagine why," Fenris mumbled.
"You would get along well with them, wouldn't you?" Anders retorted with a sigh.
The leader Qunari approached the other warriors and bellowed in a foreign language. They raised their weapons in their red painted hands and faced the group.
"You spewed your words at me like a demon trying to poison my control! Like this mage, the Qun requires your death!" the leader screamed, gesturing at Astrid with his sword. Anders was on the defensive, staff drawn to send a fireball his way should he try to take her by surprise but Astrid was having none of it.
"There's no reason for us to fight, but if you want to…" She drew her daggers with a shrug and a lethal smirk.
The leader turned to Ketojan. "Bas Saarebas, you will be a threat to no one!" he declared, wielding a strange staff-like device and gesturing at the bound Qunari.
The creature grunted and hissed in pain, falling on all fours as a blue light encompassed its body. Shudders rolled across his shoulders and back and he fought to get back up. The smirk was wiped clean off Astrid's face as she watched, and before Anders could blink, one of her daggers was soaring straight toward the Qunari leader.
It lodged into the warrior's chest with a sickening squelch and a gush of blood, and the battle began.
Though the Qunari were massive and more than a little intimidating, the group had no trouble taking them out. Astrid hacked and slashed with her remaining dagger when they got too close but mostly took them out with precise arrows through their helmets or into their wide chests. Meanwhile Isablea danced about the sand as usual, launching into one with her feet, only to propel into another—daggers first. Fenris of course could simply swing blindly and chop one's head off with that sword of his, Anders noted, so it wasn't surprising when he beheaded three of them.
Anders had to fight to reign in Justice. The sight of the injured Saarebas had set the spirit off, filling them both with rage. How could they sew his eyes and lips shut and bind him like an animal—no, less than an animal? He'd never thought he'd encountered a fate for mages worse than the circle, but here it was. With a snarl, he hurled a fireball at a nearby Qunari and watched as he fell to his knees on the sand, screaming in agony.
Almost as if she sensed his instability, Astrid stared at him across the battlefield with a level gaze. Don't lose control. She quickly strung an arrow and aimed for the burning warrior's head, putting him out of his misery.
Anders immediately cooled down, feeling ashamed. There was a difference between justice and savage revenge, and he was dangerously close to crossing it. Justice himself seemed jarred, but still furious, like a caged animal.
They would kill us—bind us like their Saarebas. Do they not deserve a painful demise?
The subject was debateable, but there was no time. The Qunari warriors lay dead and Astrid was approaching the Saarebas, Ketojan. He was on all fours and shaking. A blue light seemed to keep him in place.
"Can you stand?" she asked gently.
Anders approached behind her and crouched down to look at the Qunari. He seemed to be pointing to something. "Try the staff that the leader used on him," he suggested.
Astrid nodded solemnly, giving one more worried glance at the Saarebas before retrieving it. Light exploded from it at her touch, and the blue light receded from the Qunari. He seemed to sigh before getting to his feet.
"I am…unbound," he rasped out through newly freed lips. "Odd, wrong…but you deserve honor." Astrid looked like she was going to say something…but promptly shut her mouth as the Qunari continued. "You are now Basvaarad, worthy of following. I thank your intent, even if it was wrong…"
Anders and Isabela both exchanged a quizzical look. The mage was a little angry. How could he say it was wrong to save him? Anders opened his mouth to protest, but Astrid stopped him with a meaningful glance before following the massive spellcaster toward the gleaming blue water.
"I know the will of Arvaarad. I must return as demanded. It is the wisdom of the Qun," he explained slowly through his formerly threaded lips.
Astrid's brows furrowed over her dark green eyes. "So after all this, now you want to die?"
"I do not want to die. I want to live by the Qun."
"Which means dying," Astrid pointed out. Obviously she wasn't having it.
"These Qunari are too uptight," Isabela whispered as she, Fenris, and Anders followed a few feet behind. "Why does anyone have to die over a silly book?"
The elf glared. "It's more complicated than that. And the Qun is hardly silly."
"I'll say. Have you ever seen one smile? Or even give a teeny little smirk?"
"Ugh."
Anders barely paid them any attention. His eyes were locked on the scene playing out before him: Ketojan on the very edge of a sandy cliff and Astrid a few feet behind him, hands curled into fists. It should have been easy. She'd dissuaded people from worse with a snap of her fingers. Yet, Anders felt uneasy.
"Yes," the Saarebas answered, staring out at the distant foggy mountains beyond the water. "Is that hard to grasp?"
"Yes," she rasped, and looked down at her feet. "Petrice might take you back if death is the only other option," she tried a moment later.
"The sister was not honest."
"What do you mean?"
"I cannot say what she wanted but it was certainty not of the Qun. And her guard smelled of death," he replied coolly.
Typical chantry. Always someone corrupt lurking about, Anders thought.
Astrid's fists seemed to curl tighter but she made no comment of the chantry sister. "Others of your kind live outside the Qun. You could join them," she suggested.
"They are not my kind. I am Qunari. They are not."
The girl took a determined step forward. "But they have chosen to be free!"
"Free?" Ketojan sounded strained. "They have refused what they are. I…can't choose to 'not be.'"
Astrid shook her head. "Could you have returned if I had let those others live?"
"No."
"You were doomed from the start?" The girl's shoulders visibly sagged.
"I was outside my karataam. I may be corrupted. I don't know. How I return is my choice."
Finally Anders couldn't take it anymore. Had this creature no will to live? No desire for freedom? Anders would have given his life a thousand times over for one breath of fresh air outside Circle Tower—and he nearly had paid for it with his life quite a few times. How could this Qunari stand outside by the sea, a perfect opportunity to escape right before him, and desire death instead?
"Of all the ridiculous, spineless, mind-controlled, senseless piece of shit arguments I've ever heard!" he exclaimed. He stepped forward, scowling past Astrid's shocked face and at the grey mountain of the Qunari's back.
"What comfort has freedom brought you, mage? You would have more if you submitted to the Qun," he insisted.
He thought of Cousland trying to suppress a grin as she looked at him over the fire and he made a joke at Nathaniel's expense; Karl's letters telling him that things were improving at the Circle now that the King was making reforms; Ser Pounce A Lot sleeping contentedly on his lap while he read. Finally he couldn't help but glance over at Astrid, who was looking over at him with a contemplative frown.
Then a different face filled his vision—milky white and smooth, with blonde locks framing it. He felt dizzy at the sight. Kristoff's wife again. Aura. What comfort could she have given the spirit? She had been repulsed by the sight of her husband's corpse and the continued use of it.
Justice?
The memory vanished but the spirit offered no reply. Anders too offered none to Ketojan. The comfort of his freedom was fleeting, but he wasn't about to admit it. It's not as if the Qun could bring back his old friends or reunite him with his cat. And Astrid? She was a comfort—for now. But how long could that possibly last? He was no good for her, and beyond his guidance in the Deep Roads there was nothing he could offer her but pain.
Her lips moved into a hard line as she regarded the Qunari. "I—I can't let this decision stand. I won't stand by while you end your life."
Finally the Saarebas turned to her. "If you force choice, it is not choice. Your doubt does not make me wrong," he insisted. "Certainty is comfort. That is the way of the Qunari. The way of the Qun."
He placed a small dark object into her trembling hand. "Take this secret thing, Basvaarad. Remember this day."
The Qunari walked back to his former position and Astrid looked down at the trinket, a small amulet. Suddenly the Saarebas raised his massive arms and summoned flames from the ground which quickly roared up and engulfed his body. Not a sound escaped him, other than the hiss and crackle of flames, until he fell dead on the sand. Astrid grew pale and flinched at the sight, clutching the amulet with white knuckles. Meanwhile Isabela put a hand over her mouth in disgust or horror while Fenris looked on soberly, his hand on the pirate's shoulder.
Anders didn't know how to feel. He was angry certainly, but the sight was heartrending. It brought him back to plunging a dagger into Karl's chest so that the man wouldn't have to suffer as a tranquil. Astrid had fought to figure out a way to prevent his death as well and cure his condition, but of course it was useless. As Anders had pointed out, it was as curable as a beheading. Still, he refused the idea that freedom was not available to the Qunari.
Astrid tucked the amulet into her pocket and bowed her head at the Qunari before turning to the misfits gathered behind her. "I…ah." She shook her head in some form of shame or misery. "Let's go. I've had enough of this place."
Isabela and Fenris began picking through the items held by the dead Qunari warriors, but Anders stopped and gently touched Astrid's arm. "Are you alright?"
A strangled noise escaped her. "Not even close. I just…I can't believe he did that. I don't know what I was supposed to do—I couldn't talk him out of it." She took in a deep breath and let it back out with a huff, glancing over at their busy companions. "I couldn't force him to live, but…it feels so wrong," she murmured. "I should have said something else. I should have tried harder to compromise with his people, I—"
"Astrid. There was nothing you could do. I can't begin to understand it, but he wanted to die," Anders said gently, trying to catch her gaze.
She blinked rapidly, combating the tears threatening to escape beyond her lashes. "There's always something. It shouldn't have ended that way."
He'd never seen her so close to cracking. That energy and finesse she seemed to carry with her at all times was for once drained, leaving her looking small and pale. Death of an enemy was one thing for her it seemed, but death of a comrade…Well, she wouldn't have made a very good Grey Warden. Anders felt like he liked her more for it.
Anders thought about what the girl's mother had told him about her brother Carver's death. We just all seem to blame ourselves for it. Did she always blame herself for these situations? He opened his mouth to ask her about it when she rubbed her eyes and let out a harsh laugh.
"I'm such an absolute idiot," she said. "That cow Petrice is probably having a ball right now, praising Andraste for sending her a fool like me to do her dirty work. I won't let this end with this innocent Qunari's life." She called out to Fenris and Isabela, "You two! Forget their stupid helmets and coin. We're leaving. I have a bone to pick with a certain chantry sister."
Astrid
Sister Petrice was going to die.
All that talk about charity, and peace, and a bridge between worlds…Fucking bullshit, Astrid thought. Ketojan—a name Petrice probably fucking made up off the top of her head—didn't want freedom, he wanted to die. And most likely because she took him from his people, created a conflict and acted like she was doing him a favor. That story about finding him with a group of Tal-Vashoth and him being the only survivor was utter trash. Astrid felt sick to her stomach, implicated in this horrific setup to boost an anti-Qunari agenda. She wasn't sure how she felt about the mysterious race, but there would have been no reason for anyone to die that day if not for the sister.
Isabela and Fenris had kept their distance on the way back to the city, but Anders looked concerned when she moved to separate from their group in Lowtown. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked in a low voice, hovering beside her.
No. She blinked and saw a burning Qunari etched into the back of her eyelids. "Yes," she lied.
Anders wasn't convinced. "You don't have to confront her, you know. Couldn't we talk to Varric, dig some dirt up on her? Maybe even get Aveline and the guards involved? You know I don't care for the woman, but if she's after Petrice at least I'm safe," the man joked. His expression quickly turned somber however. "Petrice deserves whatever she gets, but if you get caught, or locked up…" he shook his head. "It's not worth it. He wanted to die. You can't change what happened, Astrid."
I can try. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I have a score to settle with her, Anders. I thought you of all people would understand. She used the fact that he was Bas Saara-whatever it is—a mage, to nearly get us killed and to hurt him as well. We killed templars that night…um, with Karl," Astrid stumbled in her speech, instantly regretting bringing it up. "I don't see how this is different."
The man winced. That struck a nerve. "Look," he said, "I have no love for the chantry or the templars, but even I know you can't get away with murdering a holy woman. Not in broad daylight anyway. We only killed the templars to get out of the chantry that night alive. Astrid—" He reached out a hand. "I don't want to see you killed."
With an effort she stepped away from his touch. "I'm not going to kill her necessarily. I'm just going to confront her…and maybe beat her within an inch of her life—depending on how diabolical or crazy she is. And I certainly won't get captured and killed for it." Astrid put her hand on her hips and cracked a smile. "Do you not have faith in my sneaking abilities?"
Anders' expression was still dark. He looked away without comment.
"Fair's fair," Isabela added with a shrug. "The chantry bitch screwed us over—she deserves repayment. I make it a point to dole out all due punishment when someone tries to have me on."
Fenris' eyebrows shot up, nearly disappearing into his hairline. "I'd hate to agree with the abomination, but there might be more…subtle ways of dealing with Petrice."
Astrid rolled her eyes. "This coming from the guy who pulls people's hearts out of their chests. I appreciate your concern, but I need to do this. On my own. Ketojan, or whatever his name really was, could have continued living with his people in peace if not for Petrice's divine intervention. And I seriously doubt she thought we'd live through the encounter. She sent an innocent, and," Astrid looked at all of them, stopping on Anders, "some of my closest friends to die today. Now I'd like to send her and her lackey to the bloody Fade. Excuse me."
She moved to pass them and head for the steps leading to Hightown but Anders gripped her shoulder and stared down at her, honey brown eyes burning through her. "It's not your fault. Not about Carver, and not about this."
Astrid felt like she'd been punched in the gut. How did he….? Was it Leandra, Bethany or Gamlen?
The image of Carver being squeezed and tossed like a ragdoll filled her mind. The memory of looking on, completely powerless against the enormous ogre made her want to vomit. She'd been so useless and pathetic. Even Leandra couldn't look her in the eye for weeks after. If only she'd stopped staring like an idiot and sent a few well timed arrows at him or rushed ahead first. She'd give anything to go back and change it all—take the blows from the beast herself if it would bring back Carver. The encounter with Ketojan was a reminder of that powerless feeling, and had been weighing on her all afternoon.
Astrid took a deep breath and tried to suppress the swell of emotion in her chest. "You don't know that." She shrugged him off and broke off into the shadows, ignoring the call of her name behind her.
It wasn't until she was outside the chantry that Astrid began to have doubts. What if she was wrong about Petrice? What if the Sister was set up by someone else? Or even if she was guilty, what if Astrid was caught? How would Bethany and her mother survive while she was put to death or imprisoned? Not to mention, she didn't particularly want to go to prison or die. Anders' words echoed in her head. You can't change what happened.
Shit. He was right. And she still cared about what he thought of her— annoyingly enough. They'd kept a careful distance after their fight and now that she was sort of-kind-of-maybe seeing Cullen, but she couldn't deny how well he knew her or how susceptible she was to his judgment—as a Grey Warden, but also as her friend. Her skin still tingled where he'd held her shoulders, but she shrugged it off.
Astrid couldn't exactly go on knowing there was a corrupt Sister at the chantry. And she wasn't going to let Ketojan's death be meaningless. Someone had to pay, and Petrice appeared to be the one in charge. Just go in, she told herself. You'll know what to do.
Astrid took a deep breath and stilled before the door, running a finger over one of the daggers at her side. There was still a bit of Qunari blood on it. For a short dark moment she mused at how fitting it would be for Petrice's blood to join it. She shook her head. Maker, what would father think? Don't be a freak, Astrid.
The Chantry was warm, almost uncomfortably so with all the candles burning and the fading sunset pooling in from the stained glass windows. She scanned the room as she made her way down the aisle but couldn't find the pale haired, snooty looking Sister. Only the Grand Cleric and a handful of other Sisters, none of them Petrice, stood at the altar, humming and lighting candles. A handsome man with piercing blue eyes was in the front pew, head bowed solemnly. She'd seen him around stirring up Hightown with talk of his family's murder. Poor bastard. A mother was also bowed a few rows back while her children fidgeted beside her. Meanwhile, a blonde broad shouldered man in gleaming armor was stretching to his feet at a pew in the center of the room.
Shitshitshit, Astrid thought. She looked around wildly, looking for a subtle escape as the templar turned. Finally she simply ducked onto the floor behind the closest pew. She closed her eyes and bent her head as if in prayer. Please don't see me.
"Hawke?"
She peeked up and saw Cullen looking down at her, a quizzical look on his face. " Oh, Cullen! I didn't see you there." She grinned but wondered what it was about the Hightown chantry that seemed to lead to her being ambushed by templars.
"Well, you are on the, er, floor." He smiled and offered her a hand.
She ignored the hand, pulled herself to her feet and brushed the dust off her leathers. "Yes, I was, you know, praying to the Maker…"
The templar raised an eyebrow, but an amused smirk seemed permanently fixed to his lips. "The Maker?" he asked flatly.
"Yes. He is our god, Cullen." She looked around as if having just revealed a substantial secret. "I thought templars were supposed to know who the Maker is," she whispered, a smile creeping onto her lips.
Luckily a grin broke out across his face. "Ah, right! Of course. Maybe a recruit landed a blow to my head in training earlier. Pardon me, but I had no idea you were so religious."
"Oh yes, of course. The chant, and all that talk of the Golden City and Andraste and the Maker's Light…titillating stuff." She couldn't help but grin. "Shall I recite the Canticle of Threnodies to you, or is that too dull for a heathen like yourself?"
"A heathen?" Cullen choked on the laugh that escaped his lips, making the mother a few pews ahead glare over at them. "Let's go, before we get tossed out. "
So much for confronting Petrice. Astrid bit her lip, but nodded in agreement.
"What were you really doing there?" the templar asked as the Chantry door shut behind them. His hair was tussled and his skin looked sunkissed under the falling sun. Someone's been on duty outside…
She shrugged, playing it cool despite the fluttery feeling in her stomach. "I could ask the same of you. I thought the Gallows had its own chantry."
"Well played." Cullen grinned bashfully. "I had to speak to the Viscount on behalf of Meredith, and so I was in the area…Later I-I, was actually going to drop by your uncle's home to see if you were around."
Astrid sucked in a panicked breath. Beth and Leandra would have been terrified had the man stopped at their doorstep—clad in the signature templar armor with flaming sword emblazed on the chest. Yet, she was glad he thought of her. She fought the urge to sigh.
"I'm not often there, actually. In the future you should stop by the Hanged Man—I'm really, hardly ever at home. That's the best place to find me. If I'm not at the bar I'm in Varric's room—discussing business of course! Not…you know." She could have smacked herself.
Luckily he gave another easygoing laugh and gestured for her to walk with him down the steps into Hightown under the fading sunlight. "But you're just at the bar when you're not at the chantry, of course—being such a pious woman."
"Ah, you may have guessed I don't worship often…"
"A heathen like myself cannot judge, my lady."
She fought to find the right words. "It's not that I don't believe in the Maker—it's just my father was never religious and I never had a particular interest. My siblings and I were almost always the only children in the village who got to play while the other farmer's children studied the Chant. My mother tried to teach us, but I suppose we never had the patience." Astrid smiled faintly. "We were all too busy whacking each other with sticks or trying to get my brother to play dress up to study it. I suppose my sister took a few lessons from it though…she's sort of the good one."
Cullen glanced over at her. "Are you saying you're the bad one?"
" I'm older, unmarried, use weapons, and have a problem with being told what to do. I guess I am." She shrugged.
"I didn't for a moment believe you were actually praying in the chantry back there, but I find it hard to believe that a woman who went out of her way to save a man from blood mages could be bad," he said. He stopped, hesitated, and slowly slid an arm around her shoulders as if asking for permission. "I think you and your sister are both good.'"
She enjoyed the warmth of his arms around her too much to disagree, but dark thoughts lingered. Would he say that if he knew you let your baby brother die? Cullen had no idea that Carver was once the bad one while Astrid had been the older, protective good one. And now Carver wasn't 'one' at all—because of her.
Then a thought hit her like a ton of bricks: Anders knows. At least part of it anyway. His words earlier made her shiver. It's not your fault. Not about Carver and not about this. It filled her with hope and dread at the same time. Hope that maybe it wasn't, but dread that Anders now knew and that it most certainly was her fault. Fuck. She felt sick. There was no way she was telling Cullen about Carver, not today anyway. It was too heavy, too deep for her to handle right now and it was bad enough that Anders had that pitying look on his face for her. Who else knew? Isabela? Fenris? Astrid quickly pushed the thoughts away and concentrated on the man beside her.
"I can't say I don't envy your childhood—I spent the latter half of mine reading the Chant repeatedly," Cullen said. "But there are valuable lessons in the Chant—and a few great stories that might even appeal to an adventurer such as yourself."
"An adventurer?" Astrid snorted at the idea of calling herself one, but she liked the sound of it.
"Something like that," he replied.
"You hardly know me!"
"Well, I ahh…hope I can get to know you better…if you're s-still interested that is." His white smile and gleaming armor should have made him ooze confidence, but he stuttered and glance down at his feet. Does he not know how to interact with women at all? How was it that he could kill demons without an afterthought but she could literally bat her eyelashes and turn him into a puddle? It should have been pitiful, but it was oddly endearing. She found herself grinning when he looked up at her once more, eyes burning.
No one ever looked at her like that. She was the strange tomboy who shot arrows at the Lothering scarecrows and would've tracked mud in the house had any boy truly desired her to come over and meet his family; Or she was on the run—hood up, bandana around her face as she searched for her next target from Meeran, maybe flirting at the bar here and there to get information, but mostly keeping to herself or sticking close to Bethany. No, the only time she ever saw a look like that on a man's face was when it was joined with doubt and something like self loathing.
Without thinking, she pulled him into an alley to the right encased in shadow. It was like pulling a boulder at first but he quickly followed her. "Hawke, wha—"
"Cullen, I am interested in you. And I also don't want you to lose your job for kissing me in the middle of the street."
"Wha-"
Astrid slid her arms up around his shoulders and around the back of his neck. He swallowed audibly as she inched closer but when her lips brushed his, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. His lips moved against hers, facial hair tickling her slightly. A shiver ran down her spine as their tongues met and a low noise escaped from his throat. She cursed the heavy templar armor but embraced his touch as his hands kneaded into her hips. Astrid gently bit his lower lip before Cullen pulled back with a gasp.
"I—I really should not—er, be engaging in that with you," the templar panted, running a hand through his strawberry blonde hair.
Astrid's grin turned into a look of horror. "Andraste's flaming…did you take a vow of chastity? I thought that was just a rumor about templars. What did you think I pulled you in here to do?"
"Ah, not a vow of chastity. It's just…intimacy is not something to be taken lightly in the chantry. Actually, it probably shouldn't be taken lightly anyway." Hawke almost snorted. Tell that to Isabela. "I just couldn't do something like this without a commitment, but we're actually discouraged from making commitments oftentimes because most of us have to live in a secluded tower away from the people we're with. But, that was…really, really, really—"
Astrid raised an eyebrow.
"Really nice," Cullen finished with a grin.
"So you can have sex…but really only if you're married. And you can have wives…but really just shouldn't because you live so far from them." Astrid shook her head. "Some things I will never understand."
Cullen laughed. "It's not so bad. Taking things slow never hurt a relationship. Are you still interested?" The templar looked down at her, pale skin glowing in the growing darkness, a warm smile planted firm on his lips.
"You're not proposing to me right now, are you?"
"No. I mean, we hardly know each other, and—"
She silenced him with a kiss. "I'm joking. Yes, I'm interested. Let's get out of this alleyway. I think I stepped in dog shit."
They walked side by side at a comfortable pace through the city, exchanging stories about Kirkwall and about their lives in Fereldan before the Blight. Astrid was surprised at how funny the Knight Captain could be and how captivated she was by his stories. It wasn't until they reached the docks as Cullen finished a story about one of the recruits knocking over a stand of candles in the chantry that the girl remembered why she had come to the chantry earlier in the first place.
She swore and stopped in her tracks, making him look at her with wide eyes. "Did I offend you somehow?" Cullen asked.
"No. I just—ugh. We ran into each other and I got caught up with you and I didn't do what I was planning on doing today."
"Right, at the chantry…What was that, by the way?"
"It's a long story…"
He snorted. "I feel like you say that a lot."
"Okay. Have you ever heard of a woman named Sister Petrice? As far as I know she resides in the chantry."
"Doesn't sound familiar." Cullen frowned.
"Well, I 'saved' her last night from thugs and she repaid me by sending me on a quest to free a Saarebas—a Qunari mage. Only I believe she meant for the Qunari and I to both die. I was ambushed quite a few times on her special tunnels to the coast."
The templar's expression was dark but unreadable. "What happened to the Qunari mage?"
"He...ah, he killed himself. He said he wasn't meant to be free."
When he looked at her he had the hard gaze of a high ranking templar, not that of a stuttering romantic. "Are you certain she set you up?"
"Almost completely. Something wasn't right about her. She was sinister. And she had a templar helping her. I forget his name, if I even knew it." Astrid shuddered. "Ketojan—the Qunari—said he smelled of death."
"This…this is grave news. I'll look into it. I'm sorry you were in danger, and that the Qunari died. Though I went with Meredith to ensure the mages in the Qunari compound were secure and, well, I don't know which fate is worse." Cullen shook his head. "Say what you will about the Order, but I've never known a templar to sew another man's mouth and eyes shut. That's simply torture."
Astrid bit her lip. Maybe it was worse than the Circle, but Karl…had the experience not been the same for him? He couldn't feel anything. All the color left his world… She let out a deep breath. "The important thing is that Petrice pays."
"I'll ask around. I'd also like to find that templar aiding her. The Qunari are not chantry business, and she had no right to endanger you. I'll find her," Cullen assured her.
"Thank you," she replied. Astrid scratched her arm idly, not wanting to say goodbye yet, but knowing he had to leave on the ferry back to the Gallows. "I'm most likely going to the Deep Roads next week. Will I see you before then?"
"Of course! I would hate to miss my chance at goodbye. Will you be down there long?"
"A few weeks. Will you be able to stand it?" Astrid grinned up at him, moving closer.
Cullen entwined his calloused fingers in her hair. "I suppose I'll have to." The templar leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Goodnight, Astrid."
"Goodnight, Cullen."
An airy, floating feeling followed her all the way down to Lowtown, thinking about their kiss in the alley earlier until she saw the street that would lead her down to Darktown. I wonder how Anders is doing? she wondered. Was leaving earlier harsh? Maybe mother has some food leftover that I can bring him. He's looking skinny lately, not that that matters…
Astrid stopped in her tracks and shook her head. Maker, what's wrong with me?