The Gallows, Kirkwall, 9:31 Dragon
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Knight-Captain Cullen sighs as his armored boots hit the ground with even thuds, two additional sets following him doggedly through the corridors of the Gallows.
"I only think it prudent to-"
"Will you put an innocent mother through more distress, Ser? I have already questioned her extensively. She knows nothing," Cullen assures the two templars trailing behind him.
"But still- the other sister-" the one with the helmet, fairly new to the order, whose name Cullen can't quite recall between a handful of other thoughts claiming his attention, continues to pester.
"Do you question my commitment to our order?" Knight-Captain Cullen asks the younger man, spinning to face the two and stopping them in their tracks.
"No," the templar stiffly replies, after a brief hesitation.
"They are Amells-" Cullen had thought he escaped the Amell name after they'd both left the Ferelden Circle, only to arrive in Kirkwall to find two more to remind him of the one left behind. He clears his throat in an attempt to gloss over the unnecessary pause between statements. "They are well aware what is at stake should they be found harboring apostates."
"Yes, Captain," he inclines his head begrudgingly to his superior. "And the other?"
"Bring her to me," Cullen commands the outspoken templar. "Gently," he adds, with emphasis. He cannot see the templar's returning scowl through his helm, but rather feels it instead. His fellow templar carries on silently meanwhile Cullen hears a faint mumble from the other as they fade down the corridor.
Cullen believes he hears the faint whisper of a word that sounds suspiciously like "Ferelden," causing his face to heat a shade darker.
Surely muttering about Cullen's rumored penchant for Amells, or worse, for mages in general. He shakes his head and ducks into the interrogation room.
Two years in this Blighted city and still the gossip dogs him, mostly subtle in the way some of his fellows snicker when he declines their invitations to the Blooming Rose.
"Enchanter Hawke," he nods, when the templars return with their charge.
"Knight-Captain," she responds coolly, her jaw set so tightly that he imagines hearing it crack when she opens her mouth.
"Please, sit." He nods to the two templars escorting her, excusing them and then gesturing toward her chair.
"For your privacy," the outspoken templar states carefully, meeting Cullen's glaring gaze with cold grey eyes.
What is his name?
The door swings shut behind them with a clang and Bethany waits to sit until Cullen pulls his own chair out.
"I assume you know why you're here?" he asks. She sits rigidly, posture straight, all senses alert, and watching Cullen carefully. She fingers the pleats of the skirt of her robes before responding.
"My brother has escaped," she answers, nonplussed and meeting his gaze evenly. He blinks, startled by the fire in her hazel eyes. He almost instinctively looks away but reminds himself this is not the time to lose ground.
Maker, even the same eyes as her cousin; he had never been close enough to notice before...
"Yes."
She blinks.
The blood mages and demons had tortured him with illusions of those Amell eyes, at first warm and alluring but then cold and taunting after he refused to give in to the temptations the mirage had offered.
"And you haven't found him," Bethany dares to state, eyeing him with harsh curiosity, her hands grasping themselves in her lap.
"Clearly we have not. So you know it is a formality to question those he was closest to. You knew he was plotting to escape?" Cullen states, averting his gaze from her Amell eyes for a second.
"No," she answers, perhaps a bit too quickly and fiercely for his liking. "I don't know how or why. I don't know anything, and neither do Everett nor Sarra." Her lips purse but she does not break eye contact with him.
"You expect me to believe he would not breathe a word to his own sister that he were planning to escape?"
"Yes." Her chin tips upwards in challenge.
Cullen sighs.
"As we all know, you were close with your brother. Don't you think it's a bit convenient that both of your phylacteries were among those destroyed? And just weeks before the Knight Commander was to sanction his transfer to Cumberland..."
Her eyebrows furrow with confusion. She hadn't known that much.
Had Renley?
Bethany holds her dismay inside, though she bites her lip; she should have taken the chance and gone with him. She should want to escape this life.
Shouldn't she?
"Yet I'm still here. Just like the other mages whose phylacteries were also destroyed," she points out, hands still clasped tightly in her lap.
"Yes..." he agrees; it doesn't sit right with him, either. "So you do not find it oddly convenient that your brother's escape happens to fall on the same night an apostate had planned to help Senior Enchanter Karl Thekla escape, slaughtering a handful of templars in none other than the Chantry? Do you expect us to overlook this?"
"I... what?" she asks, big golden-brown eyes blinking in confusion. He exhales inaudibly. He had warned Knight-Commander Meredith that questioning Renley Hawke's sister would be a waste of time.
Even if she knows her brother had been planning an escape, clearly she'd been spared the details of how. It would match the letters they'd found hidden among his belongings. He sighs once again; the pieces still don't fit as perfectly as he'd like.
Renley and Karl had been two of the more charismatic and intelligent mages at the Circle, yet Cullen could not recall ever having seen them converse, nor even be in the same room together.
Had they been charming enough to win over more than one templar to their cause, or is something else at play?
After Karl's interrogation, the templars had uneasily informed Cullen that Karl hadn't been able to name the templar who helped him get to the phylactery chamber that day; that the templar's face had been covered and voice unrecognizable. Perhaps a new recruit, then?
A new recruit would not have the proper permissions, but under the control of mages- a blood mage perhaps... Cullen grits his teeth; it would be just his luck that another Circle disaster could be occurring under his nose once again.
He'll need to speak with Knight Commander Meredith as soon as possible. They will need to organize an investigation of their fellow templars- nothing worse than a templar shirking their duty to the Chantry and the Circle.
"Any information you have regarding Renley Hawke's whereabouts would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure," he adds, hypothetically putting the offer on the table, though the mages rarely take it. Better to leave her with less information before she returns to tell her fellow mages what's truly transpired.
She stares at him silently, and for a moment Cullen is unsure that she's picked up on the hint.
"He has always wanted to visit Antiva," she shrugs, her unperturbed air returning with an unreadable expression. "Perhaps you should check there."
Ser Ramsey barges into the room before Cullen can follow up on her suggestion, helm in hand and distressed look on his face.
"I'm sorry for the interruption, Knight-Captain, but Wilmod is missing again. Other recruits, too."
"Wilmod..." Cullen repeats, glancing at Bethany.
Her face remains blank.
No, the Knight-Captain would not be so gentle with the next interrogation, fellow templar or not.
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"I have a confession to make," Renley admits, following Isabela through the brush, several containers of fresh water in his arms. "I can't cook worth a damn."
"That makes both of us, sweet thing," Isabela replies. She pauses to pick up another thick branch from the dirt to join the others in her arms. "You haven't picked up any skills from the apostate, Hawke? You're still staying with him, I gather?" Isabela continues. "I can tell by that grim look of yours."
"Yes, we tend to stay in packs. Easier to make sure everyone is on time for the full moon blood magic orgies we enjoy so much," Renley retorts. Isabela laughs, shaking her head.
"I don't think I believe that. Anders seems quite the stick in the mud."
"You should hear some of his stories from Ferelden, then." Renley grins crookedly, leading the way now that their camp is in sight. "Is my pirate queen jealous? I'd hate to see you so sorely put out..."
"Jealous?" Isabela scoffs, rolling her golden eyes. "Hardly. Although, perhaps I'd even like to watch sometime." She smirks. "Every full moon, you say?"
"Yes. Occasionally, we bake for the event."
"Perhaps not then, if you're doing the baking."
Isabela drops the collected wood into the center of the camp when they arrive to see Feynriel assisting Anders in setting up the tents. Renley notes the slight frown that appears on the boy's lips when he turns to see they've returned.
"Can't we all be friends, Feynriel?" Hawke asks, walking over to distribute water to the two apostates.
"Don't think I'm not grateful." Feynriel pauses his work to accept the water from Renley. "But… I could have been killed by the slavers, if you were wrong." he points out, frown growing. "He had a dagger at my throat!"
"I'm never wrong," Renly snarks lightly with a smirk. Isabela rolls her eyes, crouching over the wood pile to start a fire to keep the chill of dusk away. The boy scowls at him and Anders shakes his head.
"That must be convenient for you," Feynriel retorts. Renley only smiles in response, appreciative of the sarcasm.
"Very. Now lighten up and get some rest. I daresay you've had an eventful week. We'll wake you when Varric returns with dinner," Renley advises. "The faster we see you safe to the Dalish, the better." Feynriel sighs and then nods his agreement, retreating into one of the completed tents. "I hope Varric returns with our venison soon," he remarks, stretching.
Isabela laughs, concentrating on the now-smoking wood. Renley waits until the pirate has a flame going and then settles himself near it to warm his hands.
"We'll be lucky to hope for a few rabbits," Anders interjects, finishing the tent and joining the two.
"I'm an optimist," Renley informs him.
"Have you given any thought to what you'll do after the expedition?" Anders asks, ignoring the previous comment.
"Does this mean you're throwing me out of the clinic?" Renley asks, raising an eyebrow. "I hear Antiva is particularly nice this time of year," he adds, before Anders can respond.
"I hear Antiva is full of dangerous people- assassins and Antivans, mostly," the mage replies.
"But the women..." Isabela adds, with a smirk.
"They're as dangerous as the men, only more so with words and poison, I've heard," Anders rolls his eyes at his grinning companions.
"As dangerous as the Gallows?" Renley reminds him, abruptly grim as the humor fades from his hazel eyes.
Anders only sighs.
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A/N: First off, I'm sooooo sorry! I know some of you have been waiting forever. I've had writer's block for the second half of this chapter, so I decided to just post what I have so far. Thanks for reading & following!