Hello! Okay, so sorry for the extreme delay (once again). But here's a chapter I really enjoyed writing. It's been a while so I'm a little rusty, but I tried to explore Cullen a bit. Anyway, here it is!

Cullen

Cullen kept his eyes on the entrance to the Knight Commander's office as he strode past the eerie statues that loomed overhead in the Gallows courtyard. He could almost feel their sallow gaze on him as he passed. Meredith rejected all petitions to remove them from the area, calling the depictions of the slaves an integral part of Kirkwall's history. Cullen respected the Knight Commander's decision, but dreaded serving guard duty in the courtyard. He gave a nod to Ser Agatha and Ser Karras, who were patrolling that afternoon.

Agatha offered a small smile but there was no such luck with Karras. Like many of the older templars, the man displayed no recognition or respect to the young Knight Captain, unless of course Meredith was around. Cullen merely shrugged it off. They could sneer and call him Fereldan Dog behind his back all they wanted—for the first time in months he felt something more than gratification for doing his job; He had something to look forward to on his spare time. Besides, there were more pressing matters to attend to.

It was about time for his weekly meeting with Meredith and he hoped to speak to her about this Sister Petrice that Astrid had told him about. If what she said was true—and he had no reason to doubt her, the woman was dangerous and a threat to both Kirkwall and the Chantry. The fact that she apparently had a templar following her only made matters worse.

Meredith's office door was shut when he arrived so Cullen stood at attention by the wall beside it. He learned early on that it was unwise to knock on the Knight Commander's door while she was meeting with someone. Instead Cullen let his mind drift to thoughts of Astrid Hawke, feeling his lips tingle at the memory of their embrace in the alleyway and thanking the Maker he couldn't feel the curve of her body through his armor, or he might have let things go further.

He barely knew her really, but he had an impulse to be near her, to watch what she'd do next. He hadn't known a woman like her in years—never thought he would meet someone like that again. She was almost haughty with the way she laughed in the face of blood mages and spoke about the fortune she'd make in the Deep Roads, even the way she approached him on Sundermount was very assuming, but he'd yet to see her fail. But the way she'd acted on the mountain side that day was what truly drew him to her. She'd yelled at him, even insulted him, but only because she'd thought he was about to hurt a recruit. And when he'd fallen in battle he'd looked across the way and seen her talking to that blasted apostate, gesturing over to him before the man apparently gave in and healed him. He hadn't known someone to show such fire, yet so much compassion since…since…

Cullen let out a deep breath. Amell.

Solana Amell, with her big blue eyes and defiant little chin had taken him by a storm the first day he'd met her—his first day at the Tower. She was sixteen and the Tower's most promising apprentice in years, according to Irving; Even Greagoir didn't dislike her. Meanwhile Cullen was 17, fresh out of training in Lothering with a few muscles, but mostly all clumsy, gawky limbs. He didn't realize he was completely enamored with her at the time, but the fact that he could remember everything from the scent of Andraste's Grace in her hair to the emerald mage robes she was wearing said it all.

Cullen must have gotten lost on the way to the Tower's chantry at least three times before he finally found it during a break in training. He murmured an apology at the door and was approaching the pews when who he swore was Andraste incarnate turned and peered up at him. Her sapphire eyes were gleaming with curiosity and her pale hair fell around her shoulders like a halo, her skin glowing in the candlelight of the room.

Maker. He wasn't sure how long he'd been gaping, but it was long enough to warrant a polite cough from the Sister leading the sermon. Cullen looked down quickly and turned to sit in the pew on the opposite side of the aisle when he bumped into something. A candle holder fell to the floor with a sharp clang and a fat red candle seeped wax onto the floor while it's flames traveled onto the pew he'd been about to sit in. The fire hissed and grew, even as the bumbling young recruit tried to beat it with his gauntlets, and the Sister began shrieking in panic. He was about to give up and join her when a hand gently pulled him back and the girl in the pew stepped forward.

Her eyelids slid closed and she drew in a long breath. She extended a small, steady hand directly over the heat of the flames as frost traveled up from the floor and onto the pew, extinguishing the flames. When it was over, and Cullen was covered in goosebumps, she grinned up at him.

"Way to make a first impression."

"You're telling me…"

They were fast friends after that, despite the glaring of the Chantry Sister and the murmurings of the templars and the other mages. Cullen knew the rules, understood that mages weren't normal, that she wasn't like him. But really, Solona wasn't like anybody he knew, and well, he liked that.

She stood up for her friends, even when it meant arguing with senior mages or even templars . But of course, after a few years of training, he was no longer a scrawny farm boy, but one of the best in the Order at Circle Tower and always around the corner in case someone was giving her trouble. Meanwhile, she leant him books on magic while he had duty in the library and was impressing not only Gregoir, but Irving with his knowledge and possibly up for a promotion soon. Their bond grew stronger with each year, despite the warnings and looks of disapproval from mages and templar alike.

But then there was her Harrowing, and everything that came crashing down afterwards.

He felt horrible telling her he would have had to strike her down if she failed, but she took it in stride, letting it go with a shrug as they stood outside her new room in the full fledged mage quarters a floor above the apprentices.

"I don't think I was the only person being tested, Cullen."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Gregoir's had his eye on you since you came here. You're the best at your job here. You're not cruel, or menacing, but you stick to all the rules and you know the Chant like the back of your hand. You'd be a perfect Knight Captain."

The templar's face blanched. "You really think so?"

"Of course I do," she smiled sadly. "And now you just passed the ultimate test. They know you would've killed me if you had to."

"I—I would have felt horrible. I don't know how I would have been able to do it, but…I-I'm sorry." He lifted a hand to touch her, but quickly brought it back down.

"It's your duty. I can't blame you." She gave him a strained smile. "But I'm glad you didn't have to. If I did fail though, I would have been glad it was you that did it…"Cullen didn't know what to say. They'd never spoken like this before, not in any of the years they'd known each other. "Look, we're friends right?"

"I—yes," he replied. It should have been obvious, but it was the first time he'd ever acknowledged it aloud. It felt strange, but good. He couldn't help but smile.

"Good friends. You know I hang out with Jowan, but he'd never have the stomach to kill me if I were possessed. He wouldn't even acknowledge me if he were a templar. But you do—even when the other templars tease you."

"Yes…" His face was turning pink again.

"You're—you're a good man, Cullen. I don't know what my life would have been like here if I didn't have you here to talk to and to look out for me." She bit her lower lip and stepped closer to him, prompting him to step back against the wall. "I really care for you. More than anyone else I know." She draped her arms around his shoulders, slowly as if asking permission. Cullen was mesmerized by her plump pink lips getting closer and closer, shining under the candlelit corridor. The mage leaned forward, eyes closing hazily as she moved to breach the distance between them.

"Solona," he breathed. With an extreme effort, he gently removed her arms from around him and stepped to the side. "I can't. This…I—it's….It's inappropriate." He glanced down the empty hall outside of her new room in the adult wing, making sure nobody saw them. His cheeks were burning now and he couldn't look her in the eye.

Her expression crumbled. "But—I thought you…What about all those nights we spent in the library? We talked for hours. Or the time I burned my leg with a spell and you carried me all the way up to Wynne's room?"

Cullen had no answer. He looked down at her through pained eyes.

"Please tell me I wasn't just imagining…Cullen, the way you look at me. No one else even comes close…" She was blinking rapidly, long lashes fighting back fat wet tears.

He felt the urge to pull her into his arms and wipe her tears away. It killed him to see her like that, so weak and in such pain. Worse even, was knowing it was his fault. He wanted to embrace her, to feel her hair in his hands and smother her lips with his. He'd wanted her for years; he'd wanted her before he even realized that he did.

"Solona, I am so sorry."

She shook her head and wiped her eyes. "I'm such a fool. Why would I think you felt anything for me, Oh Mighty Templar?" She laughed harshly. "Maker forgive me."

For a moment he considered taking it back, pulling her to his chest, and acting on every single yearning and desire he'd repressed for her over the past few years. But then what? He would be barred from the Order and she would go to Aeonar, the mage's prison, at the very least. What if they made an example of him through her? He imagined her looking at him with the blank stare of one of the Tranquil, all the light from her face replaced with blandness; He'd never see the dimples in her cheeks or the sparkle she got in her eyes when she was up to no good. She would be an empty shell.

I will not let that happen. Cullen steeled himself and forced his expression to grow cold. "Your affections were misplaced. I feel nothing for you except a duty to watch over you as a templar. I apologize for the misunderstanding," he said quietly, looking down at his feet.

Solona gasped as if she'd been stabbed. "Look me in the eyes and say that, Cullen."

He didn't reply, nor did he look up. He couldn't bear to see her face.

"Look at me," she pleaded. "Please."

"I need to get back to my post," he murmured and started down the corridor. It felt like he was carrying all of Thedas upon his back, yet he trudged on, too afraid to look back and see the look on her face.

"You're a coward! I never want to see you again," she called, voice breaking at the end.

Cullen heard her door slam a moment later, and their relationship was over.

Three weeks later she tried to escape the tower with Jowan, who turned out to be a blood mage, and was sent to Aeonar, despite all of Cullen's pleads to Greagoir. Six months later, Uldred took over the tower and her face was all he could see. Even after he was rescued, she haunted him—appearing in his room at night, sitting at her usual spot in the library, walking down the pews in the chanty. It was a living nightmare. Five months and far too many warnings later, he was on a ship to Kirkwall and she only appeared in his dreams. Now, for the first time perhaps since he'd met Solona Amell, he hadn't thought of her in days. The thought both frightened him and filled him with relief.

Suddenly a loud cough pulled him out of his thoughts and Cullen was face to face with Meredith Stannard, Knight Commander of Kirkwall. "Are you ready for our meeting, Knight Captain?" she asked, raising a single blond brow.

"Y-yes, of course," he stammered. He wasn't afraid of the woman, but her curt, almost cold demeanor took getting used to. Even Greagoir had joked once in a while.

"I apologize for the delay. I was just looking over some suggestions Orsino had sent earlier." She rolled her eyes as she sat down behind her enormous oak desk. "He wants me to let apprentices keep plants as a sort of enjoyable way of learning responsibility. How can someone be responsible for something when they can't even show responsibility for a function of their own body?" The woman harrumphed. "Anyway, is there anything I should know? How did the meeting with the Grand Cleric go?"

"Unfortunately she will not approve your request to report any suspicious behavior at chantry services. She claims she has never suspected any mages attending the sermons, but I believe she might just be soft on them because they're religious. Either way, she politely declined."

"Hm. I suspected as much. I understand you did not return until late last night. Was it a long meeting?" she asked, her cerulean eyes burrowing into him.

Cullen's mind flashed with the memory of being pulled into an alleyway by Hawke. The thought of his hands on her smooth hips, and the feeling of her teeth grazing his lips brought a scarlet blush to his cheeks. "I stopped to get dinner at a pub after and stayed longer than I planned," he lied.

Meredith stared at him for a moment before blinking and arranging some papers on her desk. "Right. Was there anything else I should be aware of?"

For a moment Cullen tensed, thinking she somehow knew about Hawke before realizing she was asking about the usual business they spoke of in these weekly meetings. It was time to tell her about Sister Petrice.

When Cullen finished explaining the story, saying instead that it was reported to him by a thuggish looking man with an axe in Hightown, the woman rubbed her temple with an unreadable look on her face. "The name Petrice does not ring a bell, however if what you're saying is true and there is indeed a templar assisting her, she must be punished. The Qunari are certainly a nuisance and may possibly grow to be a threat, but they are not Chantry or templar business. Let the Viscount deal with them—we've got enough on our plate with apostates and malificarum." Meredith sighed. "I will look into it. But while we're on the subject of apostates, I need you to investigate something."

Cullen sat up straighter in his seat. "Is there an underground forming as you thought?"

"Perhaps, but Thrask hasn't reported anything lately. He seems…distracted. No, I need you to look into an apostate in Darktown. She's young, maybe 17, with dark hair and green eyes. Ser Karras has seen her by the market with odd company, warriors and the like, but with no weapon of her own. I need you to look into it."

"Of course, Knight Commander."

Anders

The last place Anders wanted to be was surrounded by loud drunks and brawling men at the Hanged Man. Isabela spilled some of her ale on him as she sauntered by to meet Fenris, and the bartender kept trying to talk to him about the decreasing pigeon population in Ferelden. He'd only hesitantly agreed to come because it was supposed to be a last hurrah of sorts before the Deep Roads expedition next week, but he just couldn't seem to let loose. Even Aveline had showed up and was happily drinking an ale between arm wrestling men at a table, and Fenris had only given one halfhearted looking scowl so far (the night was young however), but for some reason Anders couldn't match his companions' easiness. Maybe it was the sick feeling in his gut when he thought of the cavernous underground tunnels, or maybe it was because the only person he'd really wanted to see had yet to show up yet, but he found himself drinking water alone at the bar, trying not to look pitiful.

"She'll be here soon," said a low voice next to him. Varric had apparently taken a break from explaining the rules of Wicked Grace to Merrill to get a well-deserved refill.

"Who?" Anders asked, playing dumb, though even Justice bristled at the attempt.

Varric snorted. "Don't try to fool me, Blondie. You've got enough on your plate trying to fool yourself. When are you gonna suck it up and tell her how you feel?"

Anders gave him a sidelong glance. "I was under the impression that no one was really rooting for me. What about 'Prince Charming?'" he snorted.

"The only one I'm rooting for is Hawke," the dwarf said. "The templar's got all the winning qualities, but I wouldn't bet on him. Especially while you and her are together in the dark for who knows how long."

Anders hadn't thought about that part of the expedition. He'd been too busy considering giant hairy spiders and snarling darkspawn to think of being in close proximity to Astrid and the others. This wouldn't be like their adventures now, it would be like it was back with Cousland in Ameranthine when they set up bed rolls close together by the fire and took shifts on watch. In the Deep Roads there was no hovel in Darktown to retire to after a long day's journey, he'd be inches away from her at any given time. The mage gulped.

As if on cue, he and Varric looked up at the same time to see two women enter the tavern. Hawke was in front, leading Bethany through the crowd with their hands clasped. She scanned the room for a moment, green eyes lost in thought until Bethany whispered something in her ear. She immediately looked over at Anders and Varric from across the room, beaming up at them as she pushed her way through the crowd.

"That smile's all for you, Blondie. Just don't screw it up," Varric murmured just before the women approached.

"Fancy seeing you here," Astrid grinned. "I didn't think you'd show up."

"Our last hurrah before the Deep Roads? I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Their eyes met and she looked away, almost shyly. Bethany and Varric rolled their eyes and the younger Hawke sat on the other side of Varric.

"Make that three," the dwarf told the bartender. "What took you so long?"

"Mother made us wash the dog," Beth explained with a shudder. "Precious...does not take kindly to baths."

"I still think we should have made Gamlen do it. She keeps all his debt collectors away—he owes her," Astrid said.

Suddenly two olive arms snaked around both the girl's shoulders and Isabela poked her head between them. "If it isn't my two favorite sisters! Why are you so late?" Her nose wrinkled. "And who smells like dog?"

"Long story," Bethany giggled. "You're not drunk already are you?"

"Ohhhh, I'm about halfway there, kitten, but the party is just starting." The bartender slid their drinks over to them and Isabela smiled sweetly up at him. "One for me too, love?"

"I think I'll go slow this time," Bethany said. She looked queasy. "I'm not sure I want to vomit all over myself again."

Isabela let out a throaty laugh. "We have to do something to make Lady Man Hands' stories more interesting," she said, gesturing over at Aveline, who was now saying something to a bored-looking Merill. "Besides, we need to celebrate that we're not going underground with those poor sods."

Astrid's face paled and Varric winced. Anders watched wide eyed as Bethany's expression slowly turned dark. He wanted to slap a hand to his forehead. Astrid had approached Varric, Fenris, and himself earlier that morning to ask them to accompany her to the Deep Roads, filling up the spots in the expedition that Bartrand was allotting her, but Anders never thought Bethany would be involved anyway. It was too much of a risk for Astrid. Still, he felt bad for both sisters now that Beth had found out like that…

It's never wise to trust a pirate, Justice said, disapproval dripping from his tone.

Bethany glared over at her sister. "I'm not going with you to the Deep Roads?"

Isabela bit her lip. "Was I not supposed to…..um, I think I hear Fenris asking me to play cards…."

"I—ah, Beth…" Astrid looked from Varric to Anders for help but they both wore twin looks of no fading way. Anders didn't know about the dwarf but he'd been faced with far too many angry women in his life; for once the anger wasn't directed at him and he wanted to keep it that way.

"When were you going to tell me!?" she demanded, her usually quiet voice carrying over the crowd. She was angrier than Anders had ever seen her. Actually, Anders had never seen Bethany angry…it was a bit scary.

"Beth, I'm sorry—if you got hurt I could never forgive myself. Besides, mother would have my head if I even hinted at bringing you down there. I should have told you sooner," Astrid said. "I just have a lot on my mind, and I didn't—"

"Yeah, you should have told me sooner." Bethany shook her head. "I can understand why you might need to keep mother in the dark about some things, but not me. Why, Astrid?"

"I'm sorry," Astrid rubbed her temples. "It's not like that, Beth. I just didn't want to hurt your feelings. This is exactly what I didn't want. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

Bethany crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you not think I can handle it?"

Anders sighed. It was time for him to get involved. "The Deep Roads contain more vile, horrific creatures than you can even imagine, Beth. No one 'handles' it—you just try to make it out with your life and your sanity intact." The mage closed his eyes and saw sharp teeth dripping black, heard shrieks and growls in the darkness. He let out a breath. "Being down there is like being trapped in a nightmare you can't wake up from. I wouldn't dare set foot down there if I didn't owe your sister, Bethany."

Varric raised an eyebrow, but the mage remained solemn. It was the truth, and they all needed to hear it to understand what they were getting into. Bethany still looked hesitant, glancing over at Astrid, who was looking at him with an unreadable expression on her sun-kissed face.

Bethany frowned. "Astrid, what if you're hurt? How do you think I feel, knowing I can't help you while you're down there?" Beth asked. "How can you expect me to wait around up here when I can help you down there?"

Anders cut in again. "I promise you, I will not let any harm come to your sister. I'll do whatever it takes to get her back safely, Beth. You needn't worry."

The older of the sister opened her mouth to object or ease the tension, but Bethany was already extending a hand. She met Anders' gaze with the intensity of someone far older. "You promise?"

He gripped her small hand in his and shook it. "I swear to you."

Bethany sniffed and took a sip of her drink. "Well, I suppose I can't be too mad then." The two sisters exchanged smiles and Astrid stood to ruffle her hair.

"Good," Varric said. "You nearly made me shit my pants. Has anyone told you Hawke women that you can be very intimidating? Come on, I left Daisy alone for too long and it looks like she's about to arm wrestle Aveline. Help me get her away before we have to scoop her off the floor."

Astrid sat back down close to Anders and looked at him solemnly. "What's this about you owing me?"

"I told you I would help you in the Deep Roads after you helped me reach Karl. You fulfilled your end of the bargain, now it's my turn."

Her thin brows furrowed over her eyes. "Anders, you don't owe me. I would have been there for you even if we hadn't make a deal. What happened with Karl...I still feel terrible."

"That's just it. You—you've been a remarkable friend, better than any I've ever had. And a better friend than I've been to you." Anders sighed and scratched the back of his head, unsure of how much he wanted to say. "I meant what I said to Bethany—I will do everything in my power to make sure you come to the surface safe…even if the first place you visit is the Gallows to see the Knight Captain."

Anders tuned out Justice's curses to study her face as her cheeks bloomed pink and her lip curled into a frown. They locked eyes.

"Anders," she murmured, glancing away. "He's not—" Astrid stopped and bit her lip. "You've been a good friend."

"Who's been a good friend?" a voice interrupted loudly behind them. Anders nearly jumped out of his skin before he recognized the red hair and broad shoulders of Aveline. Isabela stood beside her, leaning slyly on Astrid's chair.

Astrid's expression warmed. "Why, Aveline. Your eyes look a bit glassy. Are you…" she lowered her voice to a whisper. "A bit drunk?"

The guard rolled her eyes. "I'm a grown woman. Is it that shocking?"

Anders replied for her. "Yes. Yes, it is. And a bit frightening."

Isabela laughed. "I know, right? But she's a lot more fun with a few ales in her. Still utterly manly, though."

"Kiss my ass," Aveline retorted proudly.

"Sorry about Bethany—though she looks much better," Isabela observed, glancing back where Bethany was laughing and smiling as Varic showed her how to throw darts properly. Fenris stood close by with his arms folded across his chest and a homicidal look on his face as Merill blabbered on about something. Anders caught his eye and gave a little wave. Have fun with that.

"Anyway," Isabela continued. "I happened to be down by the docks the other night and saw a certain Knight Captain grinning like an idiot while waiting for the boat to the Gallows." She put a finger to her dark lips in thought. "Hm. Could that have been the night you went to the chantry to hunt down that wench of a Chantry sister? Did you two umm, run into each other? We never did get an explanation about Petrice."

Ander's stomach sunk as Astrid's face turned crimson. Part of him wanted to study her face and know what was going on with her and the templar, but another part of him wanted to vomit. It was easy to convince himself he was noble about it all, but much harder to actually act it.

Astrid looked over at Aveline. "Ah, don't you want to investigate what she was doing at the docks? It sounds suspicious to me."

She shrugged her armored shoulders. "It's none of my business where she picks up her diseases. But what about this man? You didn't tell me you were seeing anyone."

Astrid let out a gargantuan sigh and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Probably because I don't want to talk about it."

"And because you're fraternizing with the enemy?" Isabela asked, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Ah, star crossed love," Aveline slurred.

Astrid stood up. "No one is the enemy! There are bad people and good people. Some templars are bad—maybe even most, but Cullen is good!" Realizing a few people were staring, she lowered her voice. "We're just people who enjoy each other's company. I know things are complicated, but nobody has to know just how complicated it really is. Not Cullen, and especially not Bethany—" she gestured to her sister in the back of the room. "So I really, would very much not like to discuss it."

She looked at Isabela, Aveline, and back down at the floor, not meeting Anders' eyes.

Now he really felt sick. His mind was buzzing. The pub sounds of people laughing, talking, and glasses clinking began to fade. Star crossed love. No one is the enemy. Cullen is good. He felt hot, and as if the air was thick with something. Within him, Justice was getting angry. No, he was getting angry-livid even. How could she say no one is the enemy? Not five minutes ago they were discussing what happened to Karl. She'd been on the run her whole life because of the templars! He thought she knew. He thought…

Anders' vision swam and his head felt heavy. He felt like he was falling into darkness.

SHE KNOWS NOTHING OF OUR PLIGHT, OUR SUFFERING. HOW DARE SHE—

A hand touched his shoulders. "Anders—Anders, are you okay?" He looked up and saw her face—it was filled with concern, but pale with fear. Still, she reached out and touched his sweaty forehead. "Talk to me."

He blinked and the sound returned to his ears and his vision became clear. Astrid stared at him, cool hand still against his skin. He cursed and stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. "I have to go."

The man was out the door and on his way to Dark Town before she could even get up to follow him.