The next day Cassandra woke with a head full of clouds and knew her dreams had finally turned pleasant and blonde. She'd stayed up past wisdom talking to Leliana about Cullen Rutherford's romantic declarations, his handsome features, his kind spirit, and his heart-stopping kissing. Was it any wonder that the thoughts had carried her through the night?

But it was a new day, and even new love couldn't keep her from her duties. Though, she noted with a touch of self-disgust, she'd slept through Mary bringing her breakfast.

She kicked the body snoring next to her. "Wake up."

Leliana stretched and rolled over, burying her face in the pillows she'd stolen. "No."

"Yes. Eat breakfast and tell me what I need to know about Bianca Davri."

Instead of going to the training yard, where she'd only be distracted by the knowledge that she was distracting Cullen, she knocked lightly on his door. When he looked up, a pleased smile crossed his face, crinkling his eyes with its breadth. "Seeker, good morning. I trust you slept well?"

"After Leliana let me sleep, yes." She studied him. He looked better. Less exhausted. The dark circles under his eyes were just a touch lighter. "It seems you did as well, Knight-Commander."

"Indeed. My dreams were much more pleasant than usual," he said. He leaned back and slowly rubbed a finger down his jaw as he considered her in turn. His very square, very shaved, very strong jaw. Cassandra lost herself in the steady motion, until she saw his lips curve into a wicked grin. "Did you come here for a reason?"

She growled lightly, but it had no effect on his amusement. "I came to tell you I will be with Varric most of the morning, and possibly the afternoon if I can get him to speak," she said. "I may not be able to eat lunch as usual."

Cullen only nodded. "That's fine. I actually was going to find you training, to tell you the same. Not about Varric, but about my day. Everyone in Kirkwall wants to talk to me, apparently, and if I want to be done by dinner I'll be trapped in here all day."

"We don't have to go to dinner this evening, if your schedule doesn't permit it," she said. "I don't wish to be another thing that must be fitted in, for you."

"Actually, our date is fixed in granite," he said, glancing away. "Everything else has to fit in around you. So be at the docks at six. Please."

She wet her lips lightly and said, "Of course."

Silence fell and stretched, and then it was his turn to shake himself. She quirked an eyebrow but said nothing as she turned to leave.

"Wait."

She turned back to see him with a more serious expression. "Two things," he said. He stood and walked around his desk with two folded sheets in his hand, then handed one to her. "One is a letter from Captain Aveline, apologizing again for last evening. She doesn't apologize often, so cherish it."

"Thank you," she said. How do you know that?

"Two, do you know Aedan Cousland?"

"The King of Ferelden? No. I know of him, of course, and he corresponds with Justinia, but we've never met," she said. "Why do you ask?"

Cullen frowned a little at the remaining page. "He's coming to Kirkwall on a diplomatic visit," he said. "I know him, slightly, from the Blight and his trips here over the last years. We're not unfriendly, but we're certainly not friends, not with his status. Still, he wants to come to the Gallows. To stay here, not in the city. He's never done that before."

"Is it a concern?"

He snapped back to the present. "No! No, not at all. Just different. And he's given me rather late notice. I'd wondered if he was coming to see you. On business for the Divine."

She considered. "None I'm aware of. He's invited to the Conclave, as a ruler and a man intimate with one of the flashpoints of the rebellion. But nothing beyond that," she said. "However, he knows Leliana, of course. I don't believe they've kept in touch, but anything is possible."

Cullen's face cleared. "Of course. I'd forgotten Leliana. That must explain it."

She peered at him carefully. Why did he seem so relieved? "Were you jealous?" she asked. "Did you think the King of Ferelden and I were lovers?"

"Hmmmm. He'd be in your social circle, at least," said Cullen, tapping a finger to his chin. He was smiling easily, which was the only thing that kept her from shoving him. "Are you lovers? I'm prepared to duel him, if necessary."

"Appealing, but no. You can keep your sword sheathed. For now." When she glanced down briefly, he gave her a forbidding look. She smiled. "If those were the two things?"

He grabbed her elbow. "Three things," he said, then drew her in for a brief, but very thorough, kiss. "See you tonight. Cassandra."

Varric refused to speak to her.

He was sitting in his chair silently, swinging his legs and pointedly staring out of the window when she came in. Cassandra leaned against the wall and stared at him. He lived to talk, to impress. He would break long before she did.

But he showed valiant stubbornness as she waited, and eventually she decided to make her own path. "It's your own fault, you know."

"Bullshit," he said.

"You invited her here."

"To get me out, not for a hen session. Or whatever it is when it's three women who are so good at knifing people, gossiping instead," he said sourly. "I'm not talking to you anymore."

"Not even if that's the only thing preventing you from walking out the door?"

"Even then."

"Tell me about Bianca Davri," she said without warning, and he glared at her. "Leliana says she's a good smith. An important one, as well, after her choice of husband." She emphasized the last word.

His silence was even more deafening. He looked at his feet with furious concentration.

"And quite beautiful, I understand. A favorite among many before she wed. Many were very surprised at her choice. Except for her parents. Except for the dwarven hierarchy that demands submission and order…"

"Seeker," said Varric in a low, pained voice. "Please." The plea came from a great distance, as though it had traveled all the length of time to reach this moment, with her, in this room. It was the sound of a sob ripped from a throat, the feeling of a boy kissing a girl who was different and beautiful and easier.

Cassandra stopped, ashamed.

When the silence persisted to the breaking point, Varric looked up again, almost puzzled as he regained his composure. "Why did you stop? You had to know you were only a half-step away from your goal."

She shrugged.

His eyes were knowing. "Oh," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too."

They sat again quietly for awhile, until Cassandra said, "Do the Knight-Commander and the Guard Captain have a history?"

"A romantic history?" Varric looked startled, but he didn't laugh. "Andraste's girdle, no. She's always been mad for her guardsman. Sometimes literally. Not that I'll tell you more about that particular story. It will spoil the book."

She smiled a little, and he joined her. He leaned forward. "Curly doesn't have much of a bluffing face, and he's all-in on you, Seeker. Even getting reamed out by Aveline last night, I wasn't too distracted to see that."

"That's not what I- I merely wondered, that's all."

Varric hummed quietly. "So, where did we leave off? I think I was just about to tell you how Anders blew all of our lives to the Void."

He left that afternoon, full once again of solicitousness and easy charm. He even stopped in for a private talk with Cullen, who somehow managed to open his schedule for their former prisoner. She'd chafed and paced at being left out of their conversation, but Cullen had asked her in a way that was impossible to refuse.

Which, she was beginning to suspect, was any way, when it came to him.

The dwarf was even more smug when he came out again, but after she saw him to the dock and waved him away, small and pale in the boat, a reluctant concern for him weighed on her heart. The end of the story had been the darkest, unsurprisingly, but what was surprising was the direction of the grief. Not for the Chantry, but for his friends. She realized too late that he'd always talked about them as characters. They were all people on a stage, and their emotions were there, their laughter and their sadness, but there was no heart inside of them.

Even the execution of Anders was nothing but a hollow drum, banging the expected beats under their feet.

He admitted that he hadn't seen Aveline in months before the night before. He even admitted that he'd written his latest work in the hope she would be so angry that it would provoke her back into friendship. "Not one of my best plans," he said ruefully, and Cassandra had come close to laying her hand over his on the table between them. "But I'll keep trying."

She asked once more about Hawke, quietly, insistently, and Varric looked at her with such terrible pain that she could hardly believe it was the same man who irritated her so easily. "Seeker, there's nothing there for you. Hawke isn't what you need. You can't make a Champion, though Kirkwall tried its best. And now she's left it for its troubles.

"But we left her, too, you know. They say war ties people together, gives them a bond, but some things aren't mean to bond us. Some things are meant to push people into new paths. Hawke made choices. Not all good, not all bad, but they were all made. And none of them were easy. Especially at the end.

"She had us all in love with her, before that Chantry exploded. Even Aveline felt the pull, though she's too much of a warrior stoic to acknowledge the lure of charm. Even when we didn't agree with her, none of us left until it was over. We all had things to find. Fenris, he discovered a new kind of slavery. Merrill was a sweet kid who learned some hard lessons. Sebastian never could be so holy as he was before she came.

"And me? I'm still here, in my bar. Sometimes I wondered why I stayed, especially after Hawke left for good. Maybe Andraste wanted me here so that you could find me. So that I could tell you this. I've always known I'm a supporting character, but Hawke thought she was the center of the story, and Anders changed it into something new without asking her first. He wouldn't have gone so bad without her, but he wouldn't have stayed so good either. That mage broke whatever it was we had, shattered it into pieces. He healed me more times than I can count, but the last one pays for all, I suppose. We couldn't forgive what happened. I guess that's why the Maker can't stand this world.

"But what I need to say, and I've been trying to avoid for a week now, hoping Aveline would come, is that whatever you're looking to get Hawke for, whatever symbol you're hoping she can be for some cause, stop looking. She's dangerous, especially to you. I like you, Seeker, genuinely, but you're a romantic. Hawke for you will always be the ideal version of herself. Something that's not quite real, something that's easily controlled. And the one thing I can say with absolute certainty is that Hawke is completely and entirely out of control.

"That's not all there is to her, I'm sure, but it's all I have to tell you. So you can keep me or free me, but the story's over either way."

She talked to Leliana about it, later, but the Left Hand was born to be unimpressed. "You're a soft touch, Cassandra. You always have been. He's just covering for her. Even if he doesn't know where she is, and I'll believe that of him, he's trying to get us to stop looking."

She'd kicked off her slippers onto Cassandra's bed and was busy inspecting the painted color on her toes, only looking up when Cassandra cleared her throat. "I believe he was sincere. We may need to give up on Hawke as the Inquisitor," she said.

"And replace her with whom?" asked Leliana. "There is no one else who can take the mantle. Hawke may have frightened a dwarven merchant, but she's never dealt with me. Or you. She's not beyond our control."

"Even if she doesn't want it?"

"She will," said Leliana. "No woman who's done what she's done could turn aside from the power."

Cassandra looked at her doubtfully. But Cullen says she wished to hide away. But she didn't say it. The Orlesian would only laugh at her, call her blinded and biased.

As though she'd heard the line of her thoughts, Leliana bounced up. "I've gotten some leads on Hawke through the Darktown contacts. In the meantime, you have a date, do you not?"

"Not for an hour," said Cassandra suspiciously.

"An hour? And you're still talking to me?" Leliana sounded scandalized, and she immediately ran to the drawers and half-full trunks, looking through them wildly. "You aren't even dressed."

Cassandra glanced down at herself. Her tunic was clean and free of tears, and her trousers were of good make. She hadn't even done any sweating that day. "Yes I am."

"You're going to wear that?" The bard's frantic movements stilled, and in a horror-filled voice she said, "Please tell me you've never worn those clothes on dates before."

A reply would only violate her request, so Cassandra said nothing.

Leliana groaned. "Maker, how have you ever attracted a lover at all?"

Stung, Cassandra stood. "We can't all be delicate beauties, I suppose. I conduct my romances in darkened corners, not in the public square, so it matters little what I wear. But no man has ever complained about my attire. And it's very easy to remove," she pointed out. "Cullen is a man who likes practical things. He even claimed it was my attraction."

Leliana crossed the room swiftly and grabbed one of her hands in a firm grip. "Cassandra. You are beautiful, and it's obvious why men desire you. That isn't what I meant. And I'm sure Cullen adores you in anything. But even the most practical person enjoys a touch of impracticality sometimes. And it has more meaning when it's offered."

Cassandra raised her free hand to the circling braid on her head, the one that never came down except to be put back into place. "I suppose."

"And you like Cullen, yes?"

"He's very pleasant."

The other woman rolled her eyes. "And he's going to a lot of effort to take you to dinner, isn't he?"

"Perhaps."

"So you should show some effort yourself," said Leliana triumphantly. "You have an hour. And you have me. We'll find something."

Cassandra made her way to the docks gingerly. Leliana had pronounced her entire wardrobed unsuitable, so she'd fashioned one of her own short, deep purple dresses into a long tunic for Cassandra, complete with a pair of dark leggings that were well-suited to fighting and boots which were certainly not. Her arms were partly bare, which was uncomfortable enough on its own, but there was also a thin string circling her waist distractingly, to no apparent purpose that she could find. She even wore a necklace dangling across the front of the modestly cut neckline. It didn't have any kind of protection enchantment in it, but Leliana had insisted it was the perfect complement.

She'd drawn the line at color on her face, and Leliana had only grumbled slightly. "At least you have lovely natural coloring," she'd said as she'd shoved the uncomfortable Seeker out of her door. "I want to hear all about it in the morning. And be good!"

The echo of her light giggle followed Cassandra down the hall. She could feel the stares on her, at how silly she looked, at how completely ornamental she was. She wasn't even wearing her sword, and she felt more bare than if she'd been wearing nothing at all. What a fool they must all think her.

What a fool Cullen would think her.

When she saw a knot of people waiting by the pier, she almost turned around entirely. She would change into her armor. Or traveling clothes. Something less exposing than this. Something that wouldn't embarrass her if it failed. But before she could act, someone saw her, and she watched the mutters and elbows run through the crowd.

Cassandra squared herself and settled a blank expression on her face. To run now would let everyone see she was a coward. And it would hurt Cullen, as well, who was waiting as promised. She could see the soft ripple of his hair above the rest at the end of the dock.

But he wasn't looking at her. He was arguing with some of the people standing around him, anger written all over his face. She slowed, unsure if she should enter the fray or stand back, and heard him say, "This is not entertainment for you all!"

"We just wanted to see!" protested one, who fell silent as the mutters reached him. The arguing group turned to look at her, gaping, and for the first time in her life she wished she was a mage, able to find invisibility. Or set them all on fire.

Cullen spoke first, though he didn't move towards her. "Good evening," he said. His voice was still rough, but at least he didn't look angry anymore. "Thank you for coming. Are you ready?"

No. "Yes," she said evenly.

His eyes wandered over her clothing, inscrutably, and she resisted the urge to cross her arms, cover herself, or shift into a new position. She stared at him with a touch of defiance, daring him to comment. Confidence was the only shield against weakness, and she refused to be weak in front of any of them no matter what.

At last he finished his perusal, and he flashed a small smile. "Yes, I think you are," he said. His voice rose, and the tone of command in it wasn't for her. "I trust that's sufficient?"

"Kiss her!" hissed a voice from behind them, and a burst of laughter and agreement rose up around them. "Kiss your princess!"

Cassandra closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, cursing Leliana for doing this to her. If she tried to reprimand them like this, they'd only laugh harder. Leliana could charm them and cow them with a look. She needed a sword and her intimidating bearing, and both were gone.

Cullen's voice was no longer commanding but furious. "The Lady Seeker is a person, not an entertainer sent here for your amusement. What's more she's our guest, and our superior. And you show her hospitality by demanding that she perform for you?" The shuffling of feet rose in the silence, and no one spoke. "Clearly I haven't been giving you enough work to do, if you spend your time shaming yourselves and this garrison. Starting tomorrow, you'll scour all of the armor in the Gallows, then the kitchens, and finally your living quarters. All leave is canceled until it's completed, and there will be a full inspection at the end of the week. I'd better be impressed."

Her eyes flew open in disbelief, but he seemed perfectly serious. "And an apology, right now, to the Lady Seeker."

A chorus of muttered sorries reached her, a strangely soothing disharmony, and she finally gathered her shredded courage to look at them all in turn. Some had already melted away up the stairs, but most looked truly repentant. And really, were they much different than her friend leering at them in a hall? These men were Cullen's family, just as Leliana was hers. "Your apology is accepted," she said formally, her voice strong.

She turned back to Cullen and moved closer to him, raising up slightly to brush her lips against his own. Soft nothingness, but enough to be called a kiss.

The men were too bright to clap or cheer, but she saw smiles on some of their faces as they bowed and left.

Cullen touched her elbow to draw her attention. The expression on his face was curious. "They're still getting punished."

"As they should be," she said firmly. "They disobeyed their commanding officer." She shrugged. "But their curiosity is natural, and they should not be punished for nothing."

He laughed very lightly, a soft touch on her skin. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She looked down at herself. "I feel very foolish."

"You don't look foolish," he said, and his fingers were on her chin, lightly dragging her gaze back to him. "You look breathtaking." As she stared at him, wondering if he was only trying to calm her, he dropped his arm and shifted nervously. "I'm not sure I'm a suitable companion to you."

She realized she hadn't even looked at what he was wearing. She stepped back to study him. A soft shirt of light blue, like the sky at high noon on a clear day. Tailored brown pants, likely courtesy of Hawke, which once again hugged his lower body into dangerously evocative shapes. And, best of all, severely practical boots, made for standing on docks. She envied him those.

Cassandra smiled and looked at his worried face. "You're perfect."

The warm honey of his eyes darkened, and he took a half-step towards her before he thought better of it. "Thank you," he said instead, looking around him in thinly-veiled frustration. "Shall we go?"

"You're going to row us once more?"

"Of course. Do you think I'm going to let another person in this boat?" he asked with a small smile.

"You'll get sweaty. Ruin your shirt."

"I'm prepared for that. Now, get in, or we'll be late," he said. He drew his brow into a deliberately severe line, and she sketched a small salute before stepping into the waiting craft. Cullen unwound the ropes, joined her and propelled them easily away once more.

However, before he began rowing in earnest, he nocked the oars and gave her a considering look. Without taking his eyes from her face, he unbuttoned the front of his shirt and pulled it away, folding it neatly and laying it on a cloth at the bottom of the boat.

She hardly noticed, staring instead at the sudden expanse of skin in front of her. Skin and muscle and light, trailing hair that she wanted to touch beyond reason. Against all odds his shoulders were even broader unclothed, and the taper of his hips to where he sat was intoxicating. When he breathed in she seemed to flow with him, carried on the wave of his body. What would he look like standing over her in flickering candlelight, waiting to lower himself over her own body and complete her? All of those valleys and grooves and peaks to explore in the dark.

She couldn't look away, even when he chuckled, "I guess we're ready now."