Leliana laughed, high and clear. "Come now, Cullen, that's no way to greet an old friend." The Orlesian's tone was equal parts teasing and stern, and the Knight-Commander colored under her grin.
Cassandra's heart flipped once as he glanced, embarrassed, at her before turning back to her companion. "I, ah, I wasn't sure that you would remember… it's been some time," he said.
"And here I thought it would be you who had forgotten me."
The coy tone snapped Cassandra back into the present like nothing else could. She looked between the two of them carefully, wondering if she was reading them right. "Were you two once involved?"
The Templar's face reddened even more dangerously, but Leliana only smirked. "Would it matter, Cassandra?"
Ugh. She always saw too much. Cassandra prided herself on her unreadable expression, but a bard-trained friend was too difficult to fool. But never mind the first tastes of disappointment washing through her - she wouldn't give in. "Of course not. You are both adults. But potential conflicts or fraternization must be taken into account," she said.
She groaned inwardly at the amused curve of Leliana's eyebrow. She sounded like a hectoring sergeant. Or, worse, a disapproving mother.
But Rutherford surprised her by nodding. "Of course, Seeker. Your instruction is appreciated," he said. She looked at him for signs of sarcasm, but he seemed perfectly serious. He met her gaze squarely as he saluted. Even after he dropped it at her nod, he maintained his new formality. "Nevertheless, in this case there's no need for concern. I met Lady Leliana during the Blight in Ferelden, but it was no romantic interlude. Far from it."
"At Kinloch," said Leliana, so softly that Cassandra wasn't sure that she'd heard it.
The Knight-Commander's slight wince confirmed that she had. She cast about for something to say. First at Kinloch, then at Kirkwall. As difficult a path as a Templar's career could have taken, and yet he was still here. Many Templars had broken or ran for less. "I'm very sorry," she said eventually, painfully aware of its inadequacy.
"Thank you," he replied. His eyes flashed gratitude, and a shiver ran through her at his small smile. His lips were full and perfectly formed, well-designed for smiles. Or orders. Or kissing. Or pleas.
Cassandra checked herself. She wanted him, was well on her way to love, but she'd trained herself to survey the lay of the field before she rushed in. And even if they had no explicit history, Leliana's familiarity was a confounding factor, one she needed to understand before she entertained thoughts of that mouth teasing her to ecstasy.
While she'd been fighting with herself, he'd gestured to a woman waiting behind him. "Knight-Corporal Lorel will show you to your quarters. I placed you in the officer's wing, on the far side. We'll stand between you and the mages, should it come to that. Not that it will."
"You still have mages here?" asked Cassandra.
He nodded slowly. "Not all wanted to join the rebels, and they desired our protection. We've also added some children from the city. And the Tranquil remain, in part. We do our best to maintain a safe environment for them."
Blood mages, here. Everyone at the Gallows had used blood magic in the end, whether they'd consented or not. Whether they admitted to it or not. Was the man suicidal or simply too trusting? Anthony's anguished face rose up in front of her, and she banished it fiercely. They were here for the Inquisition, a bigger cause than eradicating a few blood mages. They would need the Knight-Commander's help, and she would hold her temper.
She realized they were all staring at her, waiting, and she nodded. "I'm sure your garrison is doing its duty."
"Thank you," he said again, but this time he seemed puzzled. When they made to follow Lorel to their rooms, hoisting their bags over their shoulders, he reached out and touched Leliana's arm. "I am glad to see you again, Lady. I remember your bravery in the Tower, and I heard about what you accomplished in Denerim with the Hero. If anyone can find a solution to all of this, it will be you."
Cassandra's stomach clenched at the admiration on his face and the trust in his voice. Her warrior's calm sustained her as she reluctantly let go of this new, exciting love. He wanted Leliana, clearly. There was no reason why he shouldn't. And if Cassandra had learned anything over the last decade, it was that any happiness in the dance ended the instant a third party started its steps.
She'd been unpacking for only ten minutes when her door flew open, and Leliana plopped down on the bed. "Finished already?" asked Cassandra wryly, walking over to shut the door once more.
"For now," said Leliana. "No sense in doing it twice."
Cassandra nodded. Leliana was the Left Hand, the Divine's eyes in the shadows, and she carried the sensitive side of the Chantry with her. It was inevitable that some servant, some Templar, some someone would come to rifle through her things in search of information. And Leliana traveled with several sets of information, some true and some false but all well-hidden. The bard understood the game far better than Cassandra did, and accepted it, but she always complained that she ended up having to rearrange everything once the search was done.
"So, what do you think?" asked Leliana, stretching out to stare at the ceiling.
"Hawke must have left someone with the knowledge of where she was going," said Cassandra, opening a drawer to stuff her shirts inside. "This place seems relatively well-recovered, given everything, so we should be able to go into the city proper without raising too many suspicions about shirking our Chantry duties. It shouldn't take long."
Leliana made an annoyed sound behind her. "I meant about the Knight-Commander."
"I'm sorry?"
"Knight-Commander Rutherford? Cullen? Tall, broad, angelically handsome?"
Cassandra frowned at her clothing. "Yes, he likely also has information regarding Hawke. They worked closely together until she disappeared. But if he were inclined to share it, he would have done so already."
"I'm sure he'd be more than willing to divulge his information during pillow talk." Leliana sighed theatrically, and Cassandra knew if she turned around she'd see the Orlesian with her hands clasped to her heart like a smitten maiden.
So she didn't turn around. "Yes, well, he seemed to admire you very much," she said. "I'm sure you will have no difficulty in obtaining whatever we need to know."
"Me?" Leliana sounded so startled that Cassandra did spin towards her. "Maker save me, when have I ever given the impression I liked Chantry boys? Lovely to look at, far too pure for anything else."
Leliana tossed her a handful of smallclothes, scattering a few across the floor. "Though I must admit, Cullen would almost be worth making an exception for. I think he'd tarnish quite nicely. But don't tell me you don't want to fall on that sword," she said. She laughed when Cassandra glared at her. "I saw your face. That impassivity of yours speaks volumes."
"It is not a matter of my face," said Cassandra. She picked up the strewn cloth with an irritable flourish. "To pursue a target who has already shown affection elsewhere is unworthy. And will only lead to heartbreak. You're much better positioned to question him successfully."
"And your usual method doesn't break hearts?" said Leliana, ignoring the point entirely. "You've torn plenty into pieces with your fast burning affairs, and you know it. There are villages full to bursting with pining men."
Cassandra scowled. "They do not pine after me. They receive only small hurts, if any at all, and they are easily healed. It's better than the alternative. And I have never turned any man aside from his true desire," she said. "Besides, if you believe I only injure those that I become involved with, you should be glad to see your friend spared my attention."
The bard rose from the bed and crossed the room to lay a hand across Cassandra's, stilling her movements. Her voice came low and serious, no more hints of laughter or longing. "I wish you would let go of that fletcher's son," she said. "You were young, and he doesn't deserve the importance you give him."
How she'd found out about that shameful love affair Cassandra never knew, but she'd never stopped pressing on the memory since she had. And, like always, the scab peeled away, and Cassandra began the messy business of closing the wound once more. "I'm perfectly happy as I am," she said. "Don't trouble yourself over me."
Leliana snorted. "Happy," she said. "You don't know the smallest thing about it. The beginnings are pleasant, as they go, but they're nothing compared to the heights of knowing there is a person living for you, and you for them, and that they've swallowed you into their soul while leaving you exactly the same. You need to know that, Cassandra. Once you've tasted it, you'll never go back. The Maker Himself embraced it with Andraste, and it gave us all hope."
She spoke quickly, heatedly, passionately, and Cassandra felt the reflected flames of her words wash over her. When Leliana spoke of eternal love, it was a real thing, and Cassandra almost believed it wasn't an experience that was beyond her. She wondered again who it was Leliana loved so desperately, but she didn't have her friend's skill at ferreting out secrets.
Cassandra shrugged. "Perhaps we are not all so divinely touched. But even if you're right, this is not the time for it. We have a purpose to fulfill here," she said. "And Knight-Commander Rutherford will not be my lover in any case. You have claimed him, whether you wish it or not. Now, leave. I need to finish my unpacking, and your room should have been thoroughly searched."
"This isn't over," said Leliana, but she moved towards the door anyway. "I can save the world and you at the same time, you know."
"Don't waste your energy," Cassandra called out as the door clicked shut. "I'm fine."
She was less fine at dinner. As a Seeker she'd been to several Circles, and they were never fancy. She'd dressed in her usual travel fare, clean but utilitarian, and blinked when she saw Leliana in the hall in a dress. A simple one, with plain lines, but a dress nonetheless.
"What in the Void are you wearing?"
"A dress, obviously," said Leliana, twirling slightly. "It's our first night here. They'll try to impress us. I wish to return the favor."
"Nonsense. It's a Templar garrison, not an Orlesian ball. They don't stand on ceremony for visitors."
Leliana shrugged and led the way to the mess hall, then smiled triumphantly when Cullen was waiting outside the door in a tailored red shirt and dark trousers. They had no patches and were likely the nicest clothes the man owned. The room beyond him was full of similarly dressed men and women, politely passing dishes around an adorned table. Cassandra looked down at her own attire and tried not to feel self-conscious.
He gave a nod just short of a bow as they approached, then did a double-take at Leliana. "You're wearing a dress."
She rolled her eyes even as she curtsied. "Everyone here is so observant," she said. "Is there something wrong with it?"
"No, of course not! It's very nice," he said, rubbing a hand along the side of his trousers. "I just didn't picture you as a dress-wearing kind of woman." His eyes widened. "Not that you shouldn't wear what you enjoy. You look nice."
Leliana giggled winsomely, and Cullen turned a shade of red that matched his shirt. "Maker's breath," he muttered.
Cassandra took pity on the lovestruck, stammering man and broke in. "I'm sorry that my own apparel is less suitable. Leliana warned me that formality would be expected, but I didn't believe her."
Instead of relaxing him, the words seemed to have the opposite effect. "Of course, Seeker. You would have wanted to see us in our normal day-to-day. I apologize for the misunderstanding," he said. "I'm afraid the men have already begun eating. Unless you want me to stop them?"
"Don't trouble yourself, or them," she said, trying to find a way to ease the new tension. "But I trust the dining is usually more casual?"
He grinned, then, a boyish expression that made him enormously appealing. "Casual enough that it can't even be called dining," he said.
She smiled against her better judgment, and he finally relaxed. He glanced at Leliana again, obviously wondering if he should offer her his arm. Cassandra saw the moment he realized to do that would be to deny the other woman an escort, and he stepped back to usher them in gallantly instead, a light blush in place once more. The man blushed more than any ten she'd ever seen. Still, Cassandra wished she could reassure him that this was entirely normal. Stronger men than he had been reduced to insensibility by Leliana at full charm.
At least the bard seemed to have taken her advice to heart about which of them should ply the Knight-Commander. She swished past him and asked, "So we shouldn't expect to see you in such splendor again?"
"I certainly hope not," he said. "I have a closet full of these things, thanks to the former Viscountess, but I much prefer my armor."
Cassandra waited for Leliana to take the opening to ask about Hawke, letting her own thoughts wander. A shame, in some ways, that this would be the last time she'd see Cullen this way. His shoulders were even more impressive straining against the seams of the fitted shirt, and the trousers did dangerous things to his hips. Dangerous to her, anyway.
"After you, Seeker," she heard at the edge of her attention, and she started as she realized she'd been staring at him. She looked away quickly. Leliana hadn't followed up on his comment, instead settling into her place flanking the head of the table. At its left side, of course.
"Thank you, Knight-Commander," she said. His hand brushed across her back as he reached to close the door, and she bit her lip. Leliana, hurry. I'm not nearly so strong as I need to be.
The Orlesian was indeed at her most charming all evening, capturing the imaginations of the entire room, including the blonde Templar next to her. She told stories of high courts to delight the socially interested, love tales to those with romantic hearts, and skirmishes in the Blight to tempt the ones excited by war. She even sang with only a little urging, her accented voice dancing around the room and drawing longing sighs from the table. The men and women appealed to their leader for assignments in Orlais, but he only smiled and said they should enjoy their visitors while they could.
When Cassandra smiled at their groans of displeasure, he looked over at her. Leliana launched into another twisted court intrigue, but he wasn't listening. "You're very silent, Seeker. Is anything wrong?" he asked. She met his eyes and cursed inwardly at the unfairness of it. What woman could resist him when he stared at her with those molten, concerned pools of light?
She shook her head, both in negation and to clear it. "Nothing is wrong. I simply prefer to leave the conversation to Leliana," she said. "It's good tactics to let the more charismatic person of a pair do the speaking in social gatherings."
"I'm sure you're very charismatic, when you chose to be," he said with a small smile.
"If I ever choose to be, I will be sure to inform you immediately," she said lightly, then bit the inside of her lip in vexation. So much for being strong.
He laughed, and she tried not to enjoy the way he ran his fingers over his mouth to muffle it. Butterflies danced in her stomach, and she sternly caged them. "She also has better stories than I," she added. "Your men will enjoy them."
Cullen blinked in surprise. "But you killed a dragon," he said. An embarrassed look crossed his face when she stared at him. "You're famous for it."
She frowned. "I was one of many. I did very little," she said. "It was mostly luck and doesn't make for a good tale."
"But I was told you saved a whole village. And the Divine," he said doubtfully.
"I saved some. Others saved more." She tried to turn the conversation back to the lovely bard. "Leliana killed an archdemon," she said. "Much more impressive in the telling."
"Alistair killed it," said Leliana, and belatedly Cassandra realized they'd all been listening to her. "He paid with his life for that impressive story."
"Of course, Leliana. Forgive me," said Cassandra. "I meant no disrespect."
Leliana must have heard her sincerity, for she settled back in her seat and the anger went out of her face. "Forgiven," she said. She closed her eyes and sang again, this time almost to herself. It was a simple song, a Chantry song used to say goodbye to a soul flown to the Maker's realm. It repeated the same notes in a vibrant, pulsing wave, swirling and carrying the heart on its soft rhythm. Cassandra felt the room ebb and flow to follow it.
They'd all seen loss.
When Leliana finished, more than one Templar wiped their eyes with napkins or hands, and even Cullen's face showed strain. "Thank you, Leliana," he said, and reached across to grip her hand. Tears lurked in his eyes, and Cassandra had to look away at the desperate pain she saw there. But no tears gathered in her own eyes. She sent her sadness back into the past, where it belonged.
Cullen walked them back to their rooms. He'd claimed he didn't want them to get lost, but Cassandra could tell he wanted to spend more time with Leliana. She followed behind them silently as they talked about the people they'd known in Ferelden, particularly the King. Aedan Cousland, the Hero, had married the widow Queen Anora in a highly political union that had kept the country from total ruin. Leliana never spoke of him much - Cassandra guessed he was too tied up in the agony of the Blight's end - but Cullen drew her out skillfully, and they shared what memories they had.
If there was pain threaded underneath their bursts of laughter, neither of them acknowledged it.
When they reached the quiet hallway reserved for the visitors, Cassandra placed a silent hand on her door. Before she could push it open, Cullen looked back at her. "I'm sorry, Seeker Pentaghast. We've been very rude in our memories."
"Renewing an acquaintance is never rude," she said. "Please continue your discussion. I was planning to retire early anyway."
Leliana rolled her eyes beside their escort, but Cassandra didn't react. Cullen did, stepping near enough to touch. He was warm and solid, and a little of that warmness spread over her skin where he was closest. "I hope this isn't my doing," he said, distress evident in his voice. "About the dragon. I didn't mean to offend you."
"I took no offense, Knight-Commander," she said. "Your curiosity was only natural. But as I said, I'm not one who tells stories."
"I'm glad you're not angry," he said, though he still seemed hesitant. He shifted his weight before saying, "Won't you call me Cullen, as Leliana does? I have to admit I'm not comfortable with my rank even now."
Leliana nodded vigorously, making encouraging motions with her hand, and Cassandra crossed her arms. "How can I, if you continue to be so formal with my own?"
"Would you prefer Lady Pentaghast?" he asked. He cleared his throat when she scowled. "Or Cassandra?"
His face was serious and much too handsome, and his voice was a rough baritone over her name. The butterflies she'd so successfully tamped down escaped in even greater numbers, much to her annoyance, and she fought to keep them locked away.
Before she could answer, Leliana's voice drilled between them, full of mischief. "You could call her Princess."
Cullen started at the sound, half-twisting in surprise, then her words seemed to sink in. "Princess? You're royal?" he asked.
Cassandra could see a "your majesty" or "your highness" lurking on his lips and growled to cut it off. "No. Well, I am, but Leliana is only attempting to vex me with the reminder of it. I do not pretend any claim to titles or lands. And I would appreciate it if you did not address me as such," she said. She was half-tempted to give him the intimacy of her name, to take another step down the path of flirtation that called to her, but she resisted. "Seeker is fine. Cullen."
He narrowed his eyes but didn't challenge her. Instead he seemed to be studying her face. "I never would have guessed you were a princess," he said, almost to himself. "I always thought they were…"
His voice trailed off and Cassandra filled in the empty space in her head. Delicate. Graceful. Well-mannered. Delightful. Beloved.
"Silly," he said finally, and she started. He shrugged. "I can't imagine you locked away, helpless in a tower, while the world chose for you."
She smiled bitterly at the reminder. "They wanted to do so. I escaped."
That grin appeared again, the one that made him look young, alive, and without a care in the world. "That seems about right," he said, and she melted a little more. He looked around them, as though seeing the hall for the first time, and sobered. "I'm keeping you from your rest. Sleep well, Seeker. We'll meet after breakfast to discuss how the Templars can assist your objectives here in Kirkwall."
There was a faint question around the words, but she let it pass. She needed to get away from this. "Thank you. Enjoy your reminiscing. Both of you," she added, nodding to Leliana before she opened her door. She stepped through with a firm gait and closed the door behind her resolutely. With luck, and the bard's talents, their reminiscing would turn into romancing, and he would be too busy looking at Leliana to flash that devastating grin at her ever again.