The next morning dawned gray and drizzly, and the servant girl who delivered Cassandra's breakfast answered her query with a quick nod. "Yes your ladyship, the rain comes heavy this time of year. But it comes and goes, comes and goes, and the boats travel regardless 'cept it's a storm. Knight-Commander Rutherford let some of us move our kin over to this side to save us the trip, too, so it's not so bad," she said. She stopped and bit her lip. "Sorry to be so chatty, your ladyship."

"Not at all," said Cassandra. She smiled reassuringly. "I asked the question, didn't I? But are you not worried, living in the same place as so many mages?"

The servant shrugged. "We thought of that, of course. But the way I see it, the bad ones all left, and here should be safe as houses with the Templars around. It's not like Kirkwall's a nice place in itself, you know."

"I see," said Cassandra. The woman was curtsying her way out when Cassandra held up her hand. "Forgive me, I did not ask your name."

"Oh lady, I wouldn't expect such a thing. Not from a princess and all," the girl said shyly. "But if it pleases you, I'm Mary."

Mary left, which was just as well because Cassandra was suddenly furious. If the servants knew her lineage, then everyone knew, and only two people could have told them. Only one would have. So when Leliana walked in, be-robed and yawning, Cassandra immediately demanded, "How many did you tell?"

"I tell no one anything, as you know," said Leliana lazily, grabbing a piece of fruit and reclining on the bed. "But if you want to know what I specifically kept secret this time, you'll have to give me more details."

"Of my… that I am member of royalty," said Cassandra. "And you weren't shy about revealing it to the Knight-Commander last evening."

"Oh, that," said Leliana, grinning like a cat. "That was just help. And it worked. He asked me quite a bit about the whole thing."

"You were supposed to be learning about Hawke!"

"All in good time, Cassandra. I'm doing two jobs at once, and they must go in their proper order."

"You're impossible," muttered Cassandra to herself. She wasn't jealous, of course, but Leliana's interferences were always annoying. "He sees only you."

A hard smile rose to her lips when the other woman yawned again, and she spoke more loudly. "Late evening?"

"Late enough." Leliana hopped off the bed and grabbed more food. "Eat quickly. We're due in Cullen's office in half an hour."

Cullen's office was a disaster.

Papers were stacked and teetering in hopeless piles on the floor, tall enough that the pages at the bottom had surely had any writing compressed out of them ages ago. Writing supplies were scattered on every surface, along with spare weaponry, clothing, and even dishes that had the look of hastily discarded meals. The only signs of neatness were the couch, cleared and empty of all debris, two chairs placed opposite the covered desk, and the polished armor hanging from a dummy in the corner.

Cassandra noticed a folded blanket draped over the back of the couch and a pillow partially shoved underneath it and wondered how often the man slept here.

Likely last night, at least, from his own disheveled appearance. Cullen sat in the center of the chaos, scribbling something and muttering under his breath as they approached. His fine clothes of the night before were gone, as well as his grooming. Quite frankly, the man looked like a mess. His hair was sleep-tossed and wild, and the rough stubble stood a start contrast to his still pale skin. His morning had clearly not included a razor yet. He wore a rough-spun, threadbare shirt, and though she couldn't see his legs, she guessed his pants were of similar make.

The shirt had sleeves short enough for either training or sleep, or possibly both, given the hard-used look of it, and her eyes were naturally drawn to the curves of his biceps. Though truly he would sleep shirtless, in the humid air of Kirkwall, Cassandra's traitor mind whispered.

She abandoned those pleasurable musings when he rubbed his hand over his eyes and looked up. A startled expression crossed his face, and he stood abruptly. "Ladies. I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you come in. Please, be seated," he said, gesturing to the chairs. He looked around his office, a slightly lost look in his eyes, and grimaced. "I apologize for the state of, well, the state of things."

He met their eyes briefly before glancing down and grimacing again. "And myself. My morning didn't quite go as planned, and I was going to change, but I lost track of time. I seem to be slightly off today."

A night with a motivated Orlesian will do that, thought Cassandra, but she said instead, "Quite understood, Knight-Commander. You are very busy, and we appreciate whatever time you can spare us."

"I'm at the Divine's service," he said politely, then looked down at her with a small smile as she and Leliana sat. "But I thought we'd agreed on Cullen?"

To her horror, Cassandra felt a faint flush rising to her cheeks, but fortunately Leliana saved her. The Orlesian had been studying the room in bemused interest and finally said, "I thought my own filing methods were esoteric, but how do you find anything in here?"

Cullen laughed. "I don't. Some of those stacks have been there since Meredith," he said. The light went out of his eyes. "Obviously she's not available to ask what they contain anymore. I thought about attempting to clean before you arrived, but there wasn't much time. And it didn't seem… honest. It seemed best to show you the truth of things."

He looked at her inscrutably as he said it, and Cassandra frowned at the message she didn't understand. But it hardly mattered, as he didn't seem to want a reply. Cullen sat behind his desk, steepled his fingers, and leaned forward. "So. What can Kirkwall do for the Grand Cathedral?"

There was a doubtful undercurrent to the question that Cassandra didn't like, but she ignored it and went through the rehearsed, true but incomplete reasons for being there. Justinia was planning a Conclave of mage and Templar leaders, and she wanted a better understanding of the place where so much of it had began. But time was short, and they needed his help to get to the places and people they needed to fill in a complete picture. Nothing about the Inquisition. Nothing about the plans that were waiting should the Conclave fail.

"You'd have better luck with the rebel mages, if you truly want to know what happened here," he said when she finished. His mouth twisted painfully. "More of them survived it."

"There are people speaking with them, as well," said Cassandra. "The Divine thought our skills would be more useful here."

His jaw tightened, and he looked away. "Well, for what it's worth you have free rein here and in the city. Speak to whomever you like, with the Templars authority, though I'd ask that you not question city-dwellers too harshly without good reason," he said. "Trust is only just starting to come back to Kirkwall, and it would be easily broken."

"You have so much influence?" asked Leliana. "What of the Viscount? Should we not ask him?"

"Speak to him all you like. But don't try his office. You're more likely to find him passed out in the Blooming Rose."

Cassandra cut a glance at Leliana, who mouthed, The brothel. She blinked. "Why have a Viscount who will not take the responsibility of his office?"

Cullen's bitter expression softened as he chuckled. "I often ask myself the same thing, but he was the one selected. The nobles like him, Maker knows why. But I worked with Hawke before she left. I know enough to keep the place running," he said. "The Seneschal is a good man as well. It's not perfect, but it works."

Works by running you ragged, thought Cassandra. She leaned forward. "Yes, Hawke. She's someone we would like to speak to. Except for the mage Anders, obviously beyond our questioning, she was the one most at the center of it all. Where did she go?"

A look of discomfort crossed his face. "Your guess is as good as mine. One day she was here, the next she was gone. I never heard from her again." Cullen spoke the words quickly, all in a rush, and the set of his shoulders was anything but honest even though his words sounded true. Cassandra hesitated, trying to find the right question to ask.

Leliana's purr cut through the room like a scythe. "But you were sleeping with her, were you not, Cullen? And a woman would never abandon her lover without any word at all."

Cassandra fought to keep her face expressionless, wondering if this was a thing Leliana knew or a blind swing she was hoping would land true. Either way, Cullen half-rose from his chair, his fists braced on the desk. "That's none of your concern," he said in a low voice, but he didn't sound convincing.

"All the world is the concern of the Maker," said Leliana. "And we are his instruments. Nothing is beyond our notice, and everything is within our scope. So tell me, Cullen, where did Hawke go?"

His breath came fast and labored, and Cassandra wondered if she should have worn her sword. Too late now. But she might be able to take him, hand-to-hand, if she had to. He was powerful, broader and stronger than she was, but he was also sleep-deprived, and she had the power to cause him considerable pain through his lyrium if it came to it. Still, she would not strike the first blow.

Cullen didn't look at her as he slowly sat back down, fixing his gaze on Leliana. "I don't know. She didn't tell me. We weren't lovers by the time she left, hadn't been for some time," he said. He looked down at his hands and spoke as though by deep effort. "She was at the Gallows often after she moved here, more than most civilians. I learned later it was out of fear for her sister, an apostate she sheltered. But after the sister died in the Deep Roads she kept coming back. Running errands, or just to talk. I was flattered by her notice and her deference. She was beautiful and clever, and by then she was a woman of standing who could have whom she liked. It seemed impossible it would be me. Of course, I didn't know that she was looking to subvert the Templars, to curb Meredith, to gain access to the Circle through me."

Cassandra's heart clenched at the shame that was etched into his face, alongside the bone-deep weariness, the burden he'd carried as he carried so much else. Too much love led to too much pain. She could have told him. But he still stared at his scarred hands, and she didn't speak.

"We did become lovers, for a time. I was one of many, I understand now. But after Anders and the Chantry, even after she sided against the mages to restore peace, I broke it off. We had too much responsibility, it was too close to fraternization, and I no longer trusted her in any case. We worked together, but we weren't close. She wouldn't have confided in me where she went," he said. He looked up again, directly into her face. Fear and resignation blended in ugly mosaic with the shame. "I swear to you that when we were together I never told her anything, never gave her any access that anyone couldn't have had. We only met in the courtyard, or in the city. She never came to my quarters, not once. I swear it, Seeker."

"Peace," she said, her voice finally working again. It was clear he didn't expect her to believe him, which was most of the reason she did. The rest of the reason she tried not to examine too closely. "I trust in your honor. We're not here to pass judgment on your personal activities, Cullen. While your actions had consequences, they were not foreseeable, and the same could be said for most of us. There is no rule against a Templar being human."

He seemed confused at her words, and she put as much reassurance into her voice as she could. "We only ask for the truth to whatever questions we pose."

"But bear in mind that we will know when we don't receive it," said Leliana, unyielding.

He looked between them and frowned. "I don't understand. If you aren't here to relieve me of my position, to discipline me, then why are you here?"

Cassandra stared at him, bewildered. "We told you."

"The Divine doesn't send both of her Hands somewhere for routine information gathering," he said, and Cassandra cursed his intelligence. "I don't care how important Kirkwall was to the war's beginning."

"What you consider to be worth our time is no concern of ours," said Leliana dismissively. "But we are not here for your job, only your information."

The skepticism didn't lessen, but he responded to the finality in her voice. "Very well. As I said, you're free to go where you choose. If you travel in Lowtown or Darktown, take an escort squad, particularly at night. I can arrange for you to go on patrols with my men as well. We've somewhat taken on overall security for the city given the smaller number of mage charges we have," he said.

He sighed. "And there is another here who knew Hawke well, if that's of interest to you. A dwarf, Varric Tethras. Something of a businessman in the city. You'll find him at his bar in Lowtown. I can take you to it, if you like. But I warn you that he'll only lie to you, and lie well."

Leliana smiled. "We're well-equipped to deal with lies, Knight-Commander. It's too early for bars yet, but we will go this afternoon to see if this dwarf can be found," she said. She stood with a tiger's grace. "In the meantime, I will go to the site of the old Chantry and pay my respects. Cassandra wishes to inspect the security here, and the site of the final battle for the city. Please meet me at two at the Kirkwall docks."

She left without waiting for a response, and both of them stared after her. Cassandra cleared her throat and stood, slightly off-balance. Cullen rose behind her and said in a quiet voice, "She's rather more… formidable than I remember."

"One doesn't become the Left Hand without a certain strength of character."

"True. Still, she wasn't quite so ruthless Ferelden. Which is strange to say about a person fighting a Blight, but it's true," he said. "I suppose time wears on us all." He laughed suddenly, and Cassandra turned to look at him. "She reminds me a little of Hawke, actually."

Unsurprising. Men generally had a type, and dangerous beauties were so often it. Cassandra offered men a straightforward proposition, a heady and passionate affair of the heart and bedroom that they frequently took, but she had no real skill at seduction. Her determination and bluntness had its own allure, she was well aware, but she'd never been called a femme fatale. So it was good, in this case, that she had such a tight grip on her emotions. Love was always love, but it was less fulfilling when it was only her, alone.

Cullen looked lost in his thoughts as he stared at her without seeing. She tried to guess at his musings as a faint smile played around his lips. Likely remembering the loves he'd had, and imagining the ones he would have. How very annoying that she couldn't be one of them.

"I'm sorry that was necessary," said Cassandra, uselessly. Just to keep talking to him a little more. Just to be alone with him for another minute.

He snapped back into focus, blushing, and ran a hand through his hair. "I understand. It was a lapse in judgment to be involved with anyone so unconventional, and it was wrong of me to hide it, no matter how much I wanted to remain at my post. And I thank you for your kindness," he said. He quirked a smile. "Regardless of the sentiments' origin. I've performed interrogations too often not to know the roles you were playing, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless."

Cassandra knew better than to tell him she'd had no idea what Leliana would do. She almost never did, which is how the bard liked it. Cassandra playing no role, while Leliana played all of them. She shrugged and made to leave. "I will join you at the boat this afternoon to meet Leliana."

"I look forward to it," said Cullen, and the sincerity in his voice gave her fluttery pause. Then her mind caught up to her heart. To meet Leliana. Of course he looked forward to it.

She was at the door when he called out to her. She turned with raised eyebrows to see him smiling once more. Not that heart-stopping grin, but a gentle amusement that erased much of his weariness. "I must admit that if someone had asked me to assign the Hands to interrogation roles, I never would have picked Leliana as the fist and you as the glove."

She wondered if he was complimenting or insulting her. Safer not to ask. "Perhaps that is why we team so well together," she said.

His face didn't change. "Perhaps. You're both very surprising women," he said. He shifted and rubbed his hand over the desk. "I hope before you've gone I'll finally know what you're truly like."

Cassandra snorted. "I am exactly as I seem. As for Leliana, I will make no such assurances."

Leliana had more or less given her an order to poke around the Gallows, and while Cassandra suspected it had been some sort of excuse to push Cullen's attention on the bard's intended target, the trouble with working with the Left Hand was that it could easily be more. So Cassandra dutifully wandered the officers' wing, the foot soldier's barracks, the public spaces, and even the converted rooms where the civilians lived. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. But of course, that was hardy surprising. Anything amiss would surely be in the mage's quarters, and that was the only place she avoided.

She frowned. It seemed she'd avoided the mages almost too well. She hadn't seen a single one in hours of exploration. Were they too afraid to leave their quarters? Or trying to escape her notice? Something to ask Cullen.

Or perhaps not Cullen. The person in charge either knew everything or nothing at all, and either way she couldn't rely on his answers. But it would be a reason to knock on the door to his office, to go back in and see his eyes lift, the corners of his mouth draw up in a welcoming smile, and enjoy just a little more of that lovely warmth he constantly emitted.

Foolish. Foolish and unworthy and not at all profitable. She turned away from the solid wood door she'd only happened to be walking past and went to the courtyard where Hawke had battled Meredith, to look for whatever hints Leliana expected her to find.

The old Knight-Commander had never left the Gallows, and her strange statue still dominated the space. Someone had placed a ring of stones around it, like a barrier, though it was hardly necessary. The thing was unpleasant to look at, and the thought of touching it even more so. Some of the Templars who'd gone mad said that the red stone had spoken, sang, in a strange voice, but if that had ever been true it was silent now.

Cassandra gave up on it quickly. The best scholars in Thedas had been dispatched to examine whatever this was and had come away with no answers. She was no lyrium expert, beyond recognizing the feel of it in someone's blood, and this was a dead thing with no connection to anything she knew. And Hawke had cared even less about the lyrium, by all accounts. She'd find no answers there.

Instead she settled cross-legged on the flagstones and tried to absorb the feeling of the place. Her eyes fluttered closed as she pushed her self away. She imagined Hawke, brash and powerful. Maybe a little afraid, but only a little, because she'd beaten everything, and this would fall before her as well. Hawke was confident, a rogue with a demon's smile who'd risen from pauper to Viscountess, who'd worked with smugglers and princes and pirates and the bloody Qunari themselves. She killed rulers and charmed peasants and the world was at her feet.

Meredith would have been nothing to a woman like that, lyrium-crazed or not, possessed or otherwise. Her allies had been loyal to the point of their own madness, risking everything for her vision. Cassandra didn't know everything about them, not by a long shot, but she knew enough to know that they were not the sort of people easily won. And yet they had been. Even Cullen, that upright and dutiful Templar, had turned on his commanding officer at Hawke's order.

Cullen's presence in the exercise threatened to overwhelm her thoughts, but she focused back on her true target. Marian Hawke. Cassandra could almost see her here, bloody and defiant and exhausted. She could have run from the whole mess. She'd stayed. She'd killed Anders without a thought. For justice? Or to keep her allies close? What kind of woman was she really?

And why would she leave a year later? Surely not fear. She wasn't a coward. She took responsibility. She was in the center of things, and the city had adored her. She liked adoration.

That thought was promising, and Cassandra followed it. Someone who needed adoration, to be the hero. Was Viscountess not heroic enough? It was hard work instead of glory. And she'd had several lovers before the mage rebellion, if Cullen could be believed. Did she not have enough to suit? Surely becoming the ruler of the city had only opened those doors, not closed them.

Cassandra sighed and shook her head. There was something she didn't understand. She didn't have enough pieces yet. Perhaps this Tethras would give her what she needed.

"What are you doing?"

She jumped and grabbed at the dagger she'd fastened to her belt before her explorations began. It refused to budge, and she spent several moments wrestling with both it and her galloping heart. This was a place of people. Of course she wasn't alone. But that didn't mean she'd expected someone to be there, watching.

Of course, on further examination, there were nearly a dozen people in the shadows of the courtyard, Templars and servants, watching her from behind pillars. They melted away quickly when her gaze swept over them, and she hoped they'd gotten the entertainment they craved.

When she finally turned, giving up on the weapon, she expected whoever had startled her to be grinning smugly. It was her experience that whenever someone had gotten the better of her, whether because she was a Seeker or a woman, they became almost insufferable. Instead Cullen was staring at her with undisguised concern.

"Maker's breath, did I scare you? Are you okay?"

"Sneaking up on people usually results in fear, yes," she said grumpily, clambering to her feet.

He circled her warily. He'd changed into clothing that was only slightly less worn than his earlier clothing, and the stubble that had marked his jaw was gone, revealing the smooth strength that lurked there. She tried very hard not to stare.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't even think I could frighten you."

"It's no matter. I will recover." She looked up at the sky with effort and frowned. "Am I late?"

"Ah, no. No, not as such. But I went down to the mess, for lunch." He lifted his hands at this point, both holding tied pouches. "And they said you hadn't been there yet, and I was worried you were lost, or wouldn't eat before we went, so I thought I'd bring you some. But you were just sitting there," he said, pausing. "What were you doing? Was it a Seeker thing?"

She smiled, taking the proffered bag. "No. Just for me. A form of meditation. To clear my mind." Which was true enough. She didn't have to say what she was then filling her mind up with.

"Oh. Well, I didn't mean to interrupt. I can leave you to it."

"I was finished," she said, shaking her head. "You interrupted nothing. Thank you for the lunch, it's very welcome."

When he didn't move, she raised an eyebrow. Cullen fiddled with the tie of his own pouch and looked past her. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was nervous. "Do you mind if I eat with you?" he asked eventually. "If I'm not an intrusion. I'd like to know more about your Order. It seems the sort of thing a Templar officer should know."

She smiled inwardly at his transparency. He obviously wanted to get more information out of her about the Divine's goals here, in case they still involved him. Or his job. He would be disappointed in his attempts, of course, but it would be a pleasant diversion. But she shouldn't make these kinds of requests too easy on him. "I would have thought your workload would be too much, especially with an unscheduled trip to Kirkwall planned."

Pink lines slashed across his cheeks. "Oh, no. There's nothing that won't keep."

Maker's breath, what a terrible liar he was. She wondered if he played cards. "Cullen," she said severely, and he shifted his weight. "Your honesty is required."

"Fine," he said, sighing. "I have far too much work to do and far too little time to do it. Nevertheless I would rather eat with you than chip slivers off of an endless mountain."

She laughed. "A very honest answer. But I would feel guilty taking you from something more important," she said. Cullen nodded, clearly disappointed, but he perked up when she continued, "Perhaps we can reach a compromise. I will return to your office and help you with what I can, while we eat and talk."

"As you wish, though it sounds like I get the much better end of that compromise," he said, grinning. This one was lopsided and conspiring, one that invited her into a secret, and she bit her lip. How many different expressions did this man have to make her weak? "It will be very boring, I have to warn you."

"Oh, I don't know," she said, stepping closer to him. A little flirting wouldn't hurt anyone, after all. "I think you could make anything more interesting."

His eyes widened, and he spun around hurriedly, but not before she saw the flash of awareness she'd needed. She followed him quietly, leaving well-enough alone, but as they climbed the stairs back to the piles of paperwork, she let herself savor the tiny spark of fire inside her heart.