"But how was it, really?" asked Leliana the next morning. She'd been very disappointed not to burst in on a doubly-occupied bed and was taking out her annoyance in interrogation.

Cassandra sighed and bit into another pastry. "As I said, it was fine."

The Orlesian snorted. "Cassandra, I saw you two. It looked considerably more than fine." A thoughtful look crossed her face. "Though I suppose he's been a Templar for a very long time. Living in the Chantry, he wouldn't have had much opportunity to learn any skill in the bedroom."

"That's not true!" snapped Cassandra, stopping short at the other woman's small grin. "You're insufferable."

"I can't believe you fell for that." Leliana leaned forward to grab more food. "So, was he better than that man you met in Val Royeaux? The ship captain with the forehead?" She waved vaguely over her face as she spoke.

Cassandra gave her a forbidding look. "I refuse to answer. This is completely inappropriate."

"As good as all that, then," said Leliana to herself. She smiled brilliantly, then changed the subject. "Very well. What will you do today?"

When Leliana gave in, it was usually a bad sign, but Cassandra would take whatever escape she could. "I'm unsure. Perhaps talk to other Templars who were present when Hawke was here. Try to get another perspective on her. She may have been less careful with those she considered unimportant."

"It's worth trying. I'm still waiting on my Darktown contacts to make sense. Reports are confusing. They say something is wrong here, with the mages, but whether or not Hawke is involved -" A knock rang out, and Leliana pivoted to the door like a cat spotting a mouse. "I think your ardent lover is here for his morning kiss."

Sighing, Cassandra tightened her robe and went to answer it. Even if it were him, she had no sense of what his mood might be. He hadn't left upset, but if his thoughts were even half as confused as her own, she could find anything waiting in the hall. She narrowed her eyes. Neutrality and blankness was the best strategy to avoid overwrought emotions. Though, to her own annoyance, she smoothed her hair down and took a deep breath before she opened the door.

It was indeed Cullen, but he wasn't alone, and he certainly wasn't searching out her affection. He was pale and wan, exhausted lines around his eyes that didn't vanish even when he forced a smile. He opened his mouth for a greeting, but her concern overrode him. "What's wrong?"

Her question seemed to startle him. "Ah, nothing?"

She glanced at the stranger standing next to him, who was looking around the hall vaguely. A man about her age with sandy blonde hair and expensive clothing. On the shorter side, but he carried himself as though he was taller than he was. He'd been a fighter, by his stance, but he was obviously out of practice, by the lack of awareness of his surroundings. Certainly not a Templar. Trained noble, most likely, one going to seed with age. He didn't seem to be a threat, but Cullen still looked worryingly awful.

"You look terrible," she said, then hastened to add when he winced, "Exhausted, I mean. Did you sleep at all? Was there something wrong with the mages? And who is this man?"

Cullen seemed torn as to what question to answer first, and the other man began to laugh. "Cullen, she's exactly as you described. Very to the point, and extremely enchanting. I envy you. But cautiously so. She reminds me far too much of a past companion of my own for comfort," he said. He reached out and took her hand without waiting. "Nevertheless, I'm still pleased to meet you, Seeker Pentaghast."

As he bent to kiss it with a playful smirk, Cassandra waited for that familiar tingle of joy, the glow of a handsome, flirting man to wash through her. Even when she was deeply inside another romance, she never failed to appreciate the thrill of other interest.

She frowned when there was nothing, then jumped as a dish crashed to the floor inside the room.

"I'm sorry, did you have company?" asked Cullen, taking a step backwards.

"Just Leliana," she said wryly, and Cullen relaxed.

He gestured towards his companion to begin an introduction, but the man barely seemed aware of them. He'd lost all interest in their conversation as soon as she'd mentioned her own companion's name and was trying to peer around her with limited success. She moved to block him and saw a flash of the Fereldan royal crest on his cloak. "I see. I assume you are His Majesty, King Cousland?"

"Call me Aedan," he said absently. "May I speak with Leliana?"

She felt oddly like a guarding mother as she said, "Yes, of course. Please come in."

When she opened the door and turned to face Leliana, the bard's expression was murderous. Without thinking, Cassandra took a half-step in front of the Fereldan men, unsure which had provoked her friend's rarely-seen rage, but knowing only she could protect them from it.

Aedan pushed past her recklessly. "Leliana," he said quickly. "Before you get angry -"

Too late, thought Cassandra, and her friend's derisive snort only gave the thought voice. Her Orlesian accents were pronounced as she asked, "What are you doing here, Your Majesty? I hope you and your queen have business in Kirkwall."

"No, it's only me," he said, and Leliana growled. Cassandra looked around, trying to find anything that could be used as a shield. Her weapons were too far away, and Leliana always slept with daggers strapped to her arms. By her stony face, they were certainly at hand now.

And yet the king kept moving towards her, against all logic. Hadn't they fought together in the Blight? This man had to know how deadly, and how constantly armed, Leliana was. Whatever had happened between them to cause such a rift, he should remember that much. Was the man suicidal?

"I just needed to see you," he said. "It's been months since you were in Ferelden."

"You were invited to the Conclave. You would have seen me there."

"With all of those people around? What kind of visit would it have been? You're here alone. Almost alone. I couldn't resist when I heard. And I can't believe you didn't tell me."

Leliana shoved him backwards when he got close enough. "There was a reason for that! Alistair died to keep you alive. To put you on the throne. You, Aedan. He would be ashamed of you, that you risk it like this."

"Actually, he'd be the first one to spur me on," said Aedan heatedly. "He was my friend, too, you know. I knew him just as well as you did."

"How convenient that you claim he would want you to do exactly what you want to do," said Leliana. She looked up sharply as Cassandra tried to back out of the room. "Don't you dare!"

Cassandra froze and looked longingly at the open door behind her. It was becoming all-too-clear that the rift between them wasn't one of anger, and she made it a rule not to interfere with another's personal affairs. "It seems you and His Majesty have some differences to work out," she began.

"No, we do not! He's leaving. Come back in here."

"I'm not leaving!" said Aedan. He folded his arms stubbornly. "I love you, and I won't be sent away."

Leliana started and hissed, "Aedan!" She looked her audience, and Cassandra and Cullen both did their best impressions of deafness.

"Your friend can be trusted, I'm sure," he said. "And Cullen's too much in love with her to care what anyone says around him."

Cassandra tried to be even more deaf than she'd already been.

"That is not the point," said Leliana furiously. "Anora has been very understanding, but even she can't overlook such a blatant insult. Her husband traveling without her for no reason and declaring romantic attachment to someone else for all the world to hear? Nor would I expect her to overlook it! You promised to be discreet."

"I'm being discreet," he said. "I'm in a Templar garrison in Kirkwall, on a diplomatic visit, and it's just us. It's only us." He stepped forward once more, reaching for Leliana's shoulders. She didn't shake him away. "I'm doing all the things you made me promise I would, and I don't want to fight with you. Not in what little time we have. Please, Leliana. I've missed you so much, my love."

Leliana sighed, her anger fading. "That's not fair."

"I know," said Aedan softly. "Love isn't."

When he kissed her, Cassandra finally looked away. It wasn't right to intrude on something so private. And watching them come together, reunite around their anger, made her ache in a place of herself she didn't want to examine too closely. She turned to leave again, and this time Leliana didn't object. Likely she didn't even notice. As Cassandra closed the door she saw the smaller woman meet him more strongly, as though he was the only real thing in the world, and she wondered how her friend could have hidden this so well from her.

She clicked the door shut and turned around to look at Cullen with steely determination. "So, was there a problem with the mages?"

"Hmmm?" he said, then shook himself. "No. No problem."

Cassandra cast about for conversation. "Why don't I ever see them? Are they confined to their wing?"

"Ah, no. Not as such. But I may have suggested it, while you're here. A Seeker's powers…" he said. He looked at his hands uncertainly.

Oh. He'd made them afraid of her. She supposed she should be thankful. "Probably wise. Did you sleep at all?"

"Not very well."

"Was that my fault?"

"No!" he said quickly, but he still didn't meet her eyes. "Just bad dreams."

"I see," she said, studying him. She'd read Cousland so easily, but Cullen was oddly closed to her. He was nervous, though, and possibly still expected her to dismiss him in some way. It would be so easy to let him leave, to allow whatever pain was driving him to push a wedge between them, to no longer bridge the gap. To fall apart now, instead of later.

But he looked so tired. "What we are going to do, then, is go to your office, where you will sleep on the couch while I handle what work I can." She reached out to spin him around firmly.

He didn't resist, but he did protest. "I can't allow you to do that."

"You can, and you will. In fact, you are not allowing me to do anything. This is an order."

He laughed. "You sound like my mother again, trying to take care of me with force," he said. He paused. "I'm starting to wonder if I should be concerned that I'm so attracted to you."

She winced internally. "Maybe you should be," she said. "Now move."

"Yes ser," he said crisply. He saluted, and she couldn't stop her chuckle.

It died when she heard the unmistakable groan of a mattress settling. "That's my bed!"

"Well, you did lock them in your room," Cullen said. "And it's a very comfortable bed." He gave her a hesitant smile. "I certainly thought so."

He slept deeply as she worked. She kept the world outside of his office door, by coercion and force. He would not be disturbed.

And in between piles of paper she watched him pass dreamless time and tried to decide what to do. Aedan Cousland believed Cullen loved her. Not lightly, either, as she'd half-hoped. It was too late to uncross that line, but it was never too late to deal with a problem. When he awoke, what would she be? She hadn't expected him to be so unsure when she'd chosen him. His looks and his command had masked him too well, even from her Seeking eyes. And he looked so young now, soft and vulnerable as he slept. So easily wounded.

The question wasn't whether he would be hurt. He would be. She'd ensured that with her carelessness and lack of understanding. But if she left him later, he would blame her. If she left him now, he would blame himself. He already carried such disregard for himself that it might destroy him. And she knew very well how long such bitterness could last.

And in truth, it wasn't only him. She wanted this time, so desperately she could almost taste it in her mouth. Cassandra didn't lie, and she hadn't lied to Cullen. There had never been a man like this, for her, and to deny herself would be a pain that might cripple her as well.

She shook herself, catching her thoughts drifting perilously close to her mother. There would be no answer there, and truth had been lost long ago. Cassandra was her own answers. And she chose to take his anger later to keep him whole now.

When he woke, it was a slow process, as though he came back from a long distance. She had plenty of time to reach him before his eyes blinked into total awareness. "Hello," she said softly. "Would you like your lunch in here or in the mess?"

"My lunch?" His voice was rusty and dry, and he sipped the water she gave him with a mix of gratitude and irritation. "You let me sleep too long."

She ignored him. "I've done all the things I could. There is only a small amount of work remaining for you."

She expected him to make a joke about how he'd be replaced by her if she kept up her pace, but instead he was grave and still. "Thank you, Cassandra. I don't know how to repay you."

"You don't have to," she said. She smoothed a hand through his hair and kissed him deeply. When she pulled away she smiled at the soft wonder in his lovely, infinitely deep eyes. "I'm happy to take care of you."

The next weeks passed like a dream of another life. She'd peeled back a curtain to reveal another Cassandra, one who was allowed a permanent joy instead of bright, fleeting happiness. She knew better than to believe it. This was borrowed time that would vanish away too soon, but the illusion was soft and welcome while it lasted.

This Cassandra wasn't the Right Hand. She'd never been royal, never been a Seeker, and certainly never been involved in anything as complicated as a war. She lived in Kirkwall, a woman with power and friends, including the captain of the Guard and even a dwarf who ran a seedy bar. When she went into the city she was known but not bothered, welcomed but not courted, respected but not feared. She wore armor less and clothing more, and though she never again wore a heeled shoe, she did condescend - once - to wear a dress. Cullen's fervent approval was very gratifying.

Leliana and Aedan, who insisted on no formalities of rank, carried her with them like a shield against rumor, and even they seemed reflected and strange. They were in their own bubble world as well, a place without responsibilities or duties, and the depth of their devotion was almost terrifying.

She and Cullen often joined them at meals or on trips to the city, becoming a unit that was almost like family. There were no times more beautiful than when they were together, laughing and joking and fitting together. Aedan was charming and witty, and held no hint of even Leliana's darkness inside of him. Leliana was a new woman with him, light and easy when he touched her hand. And Cullen was the steady force that grounded them all when they threatened to fly too high, even while he smiled at her with unimaginable brilliance.

Because the brightest part of this stolen life was him, the man who cared for her more than should ever be possible. He never said the words, but the warmth of his love surrounded her like a blanket, and when they were together she sometimes forgot that she was the one showing him his worth. Cullen looked at her like she was precious and rare, his eyes full of amazement and that lovely wonder that ran through her blood and settled inside her heart. James the fletcher's son had looked at her the same tender way. But that had been in darkened corners, hidden and wrong, and this was the purest light. All of the Gallows could see his regard.

But Cullen never treated her like she was fragile, and when she fought in the training ring one afternoon he bet heavily on her in every match. And he did very well for himself, thanks to her skill. When some of his troops complained that he'd had inside information, he only smiled and said her worth was there for any of them to see. It wasn't his fault they'd overlooked her.

Leliana had teased her mercilessly for the way she'd fallen into his arms and kissed him with sweet gratitude, and the men in the yard had hooted and cheered even at the time, but Cassandra was busy living her shadow life and ignored them all. She was too in love with Cullen Rutherford to care.

There were only two places the illusion wavered. One was in the night, after he'd made her body sing and she'd wrenched cries of perfect joy from his throat. He was beautiful in bed, learning her body even better than he'd already intuited on his own, but each night he rose to return to his own rooms, to keep her reputation intact. She'd considered arguing, but secretly she was glad for the small reminder of the unreality of it all. If he'd been in her bed each morning, she might have convinced herself that this was something more than it could be, and it wouldn't do to lose her purpose. Every day brought her closer to leaving, to never seeing him again, and she couldn't allow herself to forget it. So every night she followed him to the door, wrapped in her robe and gave him lingering kisses, capturing his lips in delicate rhythm, until he opened the door and was gone.

And every night the kisses grew longer and he seemed to have a harder and harder time working the latch on the door.

The other time was in the morning, when Leliana and Aedan came to take their breakfast with her. It was one of the few places they didn't have to pretend distance, and Leliana sat in his lap and fed him as he teased her and told them both stories of Denerim. Cullen was never there, because Cassandra's reputation was, and his absence was another ache inside the beautiful life she was living. A part of her wondered if he would still look at her like she was precious if he saw her usually sour morning attitude. Each dawn was one day closer to the Conclave, and while shadow Cassandra was living a dream, the real Cassandra was no closer to her mission of finding someone to run the Inquisition.

So it was just as well he was never there to live through her early melancholy. She always saw him first when she opened the door to his office, well into the day. He smiled and rose to greet her, and he told her she was beautiful as he pressed his lips to her cheek. And she was ready with her own praises, her compliments that were never the same but always true. After a time he even seemed to believe her. Cassandra watched him flower into new confidence under her care, and she knew her decision had been the right one.

One breakfast, when Aedan had gone to bathe and it was just her and Leliana for the first time in ages, Cassandra looked across the table and touched her hand. The bard came back from whatever cloud she'd been on and gave her a startled, but clear-eyed, look.

"You lie well, Leliana."

"Well enough to hurt, not well enough to protect, it seems," she said.

Cassandra shrugged. "Take what the Maker sends and be thankful. There's no need to protect yourself from happiness."

"Fine advice coming from you," said Leliana, but she smiled to soften it. "It's good to see you finally happy."

"I'm always happy."

Her friend snorted. "I heard you humming a tavern song the other day after you came out of Cullen's office. The one about the milkmaid who met a soldier on the road…"

Cassandra cleared her throat quickly. "How long has it been, with Aedan?"

"Since the beginning." Leliana settled into the attitude of storyteller. "There once was a lay sister from Lothering, who was more than she seemed, but also much less. A handsome hero with a hard past and harder future met her there, and he spoke with the sweet voice of the Maker and told her to follow. And she did. She always will." She stopped, shrugging. "Sometimes it's that simple."

Nothing about it sounded simple to Cassandra. "You think the Maker…matchmade you?" she asked slowly. "But Aedan is married!"

"The world sometimes interferes with the Maker's will. He cannot make us perfect," said Leliana. "Besides, I told him to do it. It was the only choice. His country needs him, and I'm certainly not the equal of a country." She threw Cassandra a humorless glance. "Anora is pregnant. They'll have an heir at last."

"I'm sorry."

"It was the only choice," she said again.

Silence fell, and Cassandra had nothing to fill it.

"Anora has the worse of it. I don't know if she loves another - I've certainly never asked - but if so her expressions of it have to be even more careful than Aedan's. The Game is played, even in Ferelden," said Leliana. She laughed lightly. "Though I suppose this would be the only time she can be safe in an affair. Perhaps she wouldn't be so angry at Aedan's abandonment as I fear."

She sobered. "I hope she isn't. I would hate to be so happy at the expense of her pain."

"I'm sure she's very glad he's here," said Cassandra with as much surety as she could muster.

"Oh Cassandra, you truly are such a lovely, terrible liar. But here we are, in this rotten city, and it's sent us the loves we've always wanted." The Orlesian's closed her eyes and tilted her head to the ceiling. "It's all like a beautiful dream, isn't it?"

"I don't want to wake up," said Cassandra softly. And it was true, for all that the real Cassandra was terrified and waiting for her.

Leliana sighed. "I know," she answered, just as soft. "Maker, do I know."