Cullen sank to the floor, dazed. Blood ran down his face in ugly streams and dripped crimson on the wooden floor.

For a minute the tavern was silent, and then chaos reigned. Hawke drew her daggers with speed, but Cassandra yelled at her to check Cullen as she spun around. James' friends were standing, half-aggressive and half-stunned, while he himself waited with a smug grin.

"Not so pretty now, is he?" he said. He sank into an unarmed fighting stance and winked at her. She wondered how she'd ever thought he was handsome.

Cassandra drew her sword, and the people around her scattered. James raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Afraid to face me in a fair fight?" he asked. "Come on, let's spar. If I win, I get you."

"I would destroy you on any field," she said dismissively. "This is not about sparring, and I will set the terms." She feinted left to draw his gaze then turned right to bash his nose with the hilt of her weapon. Those that were left in the room let out a pained groan as James staggered back.

"That was my nose, you bitch," he said indistinctly, his hands raised to his face to cover the bleeding.

"Be glad it was only the hilt," she said, then sheathed her weapon and wrenched his arm behind his back. He cried out as she twisted it up slightly higher than strictly necessary and slammed him onto a nearby table. The patrons had the presence of mind to lift their mugs before the wood rattled, and she smiled at them coolly. "You assaulted your commanding officer. The terms are, you will wait in the dungeon as long as I choose."

He looked up at his friends and growled, "Get her off of me."

"You are welcome to attempt it," said Cassandra conversationally, eyeing them with interest.

As one man, they stepped back, and she nodded. She turned behind her, briefly, to see Hawke kneeling over Cullen. "How is he?"

"Nothing vital, as far as I can see, but I'm no healer," said Hawke.

"Then take him to one," said Cassandra, amazed at the calmness of her voice. Inside she was screaming that he was hurt, that he might be maimed, that he might bleed out, and she let that voice guide her next twist of James' arm. She felt his tendons protest, which soothed her. "We have several here. They can help. And don't let him fall asleep."

Hawke grinned. "Oh, I'm very good at keeping men awake," she said. She stood and slung Cullen's arm over her shoulder. He was responsive enough to help her, which eased some of Cassandra's fear. "Come on, handsome. You've got an appointment to get to."

"Cassandra," he said vaguely, and Hawke gripped his chin gently to turn his head towards her and her prisoner. The blood running over his eye made him squint, and she saw a dozen cuts across his face. His eyes slowly drew into focus. "Okay?"

"I'm fine," said Cassandra. "Go."

"She's got her man right where she wants him," said Hawke as she tugged him away. "Just like I do. Don't hurt him too much!" she called behind her as they wove through the crowd.

"Only if he insists upon it," answered Cassandra, then turned back to the whimpering man. "Will you insist?"

He indicated with a pained noise that he wouldn't, and she hauled him up to take him to the dungeons of the Chantry without any attempts at gentleness.

Once James was secured, with her less than gentle first aid, and she'd thrown him a potion to ease the pain, she stopped in the Chantry's assembly to kneel in prayer for Cullen. She was no healer, and this pleading was the best help she could offer him. She felt tears gathering behind her eyes, and she screwed them shut tightly to fend them off. He would be okay. The Maker was faithful. She would pray until she had no more words left to give.

After an hour passed, her knees were sore from the hard stone, and she rose slowly. She glared down at her traitorous body, older than it should be and growing creaky with time.

Justinia and Leliana were behind her when she turned around, and she started. Leliana's newly impassive demeanor broke, and she took a half-step forward. "Cassandra! What happened?"

She must have looked confused because Justinia said, "You are bleeding, child."

"Oh," she said. She looked down. "That's not mine. There was an incident at the tavern. I imprisoned the instigator. He will come for your judgment when you next sit. You do not need to rush that day."

"Were the injuries severe?" asked Jusitinia.

"The man in the dungeons had a lightly broken nose. I set it before I left. His shoulder is also wrenched, but he is none the worse for that," said Cassandra. "His… victim has several cuts across his face, but he seemed stable when he was taken to the healers."

Leliana's eyes had narrowed at her hesitation. "Who was the victim?" she asked. Her face paled. "Was it King Cousland?"

"No! No, he was not even there, I believe. It was Knight-Commander Rutherford."

Both women gasped. "Cassandra, I'm sorry," said Leliana. She frowned. "He doesn't seem to be the type to get in bar fights."

"It wasn't his fault. It was mine. I was not tactful," said Cassandra. She looked past them to the door. "I have been praying here, for him, but I was considering checking on him at the healer's cabins. But it is growing late. So perhaps not."

A familiar exasperation entered Leliana's expression, and Cassandra almost smiled. "Go, you idiot. He'd rather be woken up by you than sleep any day."

She nodded and walked past them to the doors, but stopped to squeeze the bard's shoulder. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," said Leliana. The candles wavered as she knelt down at the nearest prayer bench. "I will also pray for his safety."

"As will I," said Justinia, and Cassandra left the two women in silent vigil with a heart that was too full for words.

Cullen wasn't in the healer's cabins, and they'd heard of no injury when she asked them. Panic filled her, and she wondered if his injuries had been more serious than they looked. She rushed back towards the tavern, terrified of seeing a rogue standing over an unmoving man. She was close to calling in the guards to help her search when Varric yanked her into the shadows.

"Come on, Seeker," he said, and together they walked into the nearby woods until they found a clearing. Cullen was stretched out on the ground, with Anders kneeling over him and Hawke throwing her dagger into the ground at a safe distance.

Cassandra finally exhaled when she saw Cullen move.

"I told you to take him to the healers," she hissed at Hawke, who glanced up at her mildly.

"Anders is the best healer I know."

"But Cullen is a Templar!"

Anders turned his head slightly. He was thin to the point of emaciation, something that his robe and hood had hidden from her before, but he didn't seem ill. "I help anyone in need. I would be a poor healer if I turned aside a patient simply because I disliked his moral stance," he said. "Or his history. Of course, after they're healed, I make no promises about any further hospitality."

Cassandra paled, and Hawke laughed. "Don't worry. Like I said, we like Cullen. For the most part. He'll be fine. Go see for yourself."

She accepted the command and walked closer to the two men. Cullen's eyes were closed, but he didn't seem to be asleep. "Light healing trance," said Anders absently. "It helps. It especially helps the healer not slap his patients. You wouldn't believe how much they fight sometimes."

Cassandra didn't answer as her eyes roved over Cullen's face. A green light surrounded him, and she felt the surge of lyrium through the glow. She reached out to touch it, briefly, and Anders added, "It won't harm him. He had a dozen cuts, and a moderate concussion, but I've seen worse. Healed worse. My magic is fresh, right now, thanks to the rest and the food Hawke brought me, so it wasn't any trouble." He frowned, but it was the frown of an artist unsatisfied with his masterpiece. "There will be one scar above his mouth. It was a deep cut, and someone let him talk on the way to the clearing. I couldn't fix it all."

Hawke called out, "I heard that. You try to shut up a yappy Templar and lug him around at the same time. He kept trying to turn back. You're lucky we got here at all."

"My love, you've lifted men far larger than him. Me, for instance."

"You're taller," agreed Hawke. "But you've got hollow bones, like a bird. He was pure dead weight, and I'm a very delicate flower."

Anders smiled to himself, and Cassandra narrowed her eyes. He turned his head, quick as lightning, and she was startled to see his eyes flash a deep blue. "Not so easy to hate us when we become people, is it?" he asked.

"I do not hate mages," she said. "I hate murderers, whether they are mages or not. You killed my friends. They were innocent."

"Your friends killed many more of mine, and they were no less innocent," he countered. "Is it better that it happened over decades instead of all at once?"

"To kill anonymously is a coward's weapon. Only seeing the faces keeps justice from becoming slaughter."

To her surprise, he smiled. "Justice might not agree with that." He sobered and turned back to Cullen's healing. "So you believe it's better to be a sadist, who sees a man for who he is and kills him anyway."

"It's not sadism to protect. It is not sadism to remove evil from the world. You protected nothing, only destroyed. And the only evil was yours."

Anders sighed. "It's nothing I haven't heard before. You may even be right, in a way. But it was what there was. Killing the bad apples when they appeared in my hands only led to orchards full of them waiting to be unleashed. The world didn't care, as long as it stayed on its steady course. I made you care. The world is at last seeing instead of turning aside," he said. "Have you ever killed anyone, Seeker Pentaghast?"

"Yes," she said. "I've executed prisoners, both as a Seeker and as the Right Hand. I've fought bandits and mages and Templars who have lost their way. It's not always been clean."

"Do you feel the world has changed because of it?"

"Yes. The wrongs are removed, leaving more rights," she said. "But I carry their faces on my heart, always. There is no glory in what I've done. The Maker does not let His instruments forget their pain."

"I envy your conviction," he said. "It almost makes me wish I could feel such guilt." He sat back on his heels as the green glow faded. She looked down as Cullen stirred, and Anders stood and walked over to talk to Hawke and Varric.

Cullen's eyes found hers immediately. "Where's James?"

"In the cells," she said, clenching her fists around her tunic to keep her fingers from running through his hair. "He'll face Justinia."

"Good," he said. "I thought I saw him bleeding, but I wasn't sure if it was mine. Was he?"

Cassandra nodded. "I had to subdue him."

He grinned, then, and she couldn't help but smile back. "I wish I'd been able to see it. He deserved worse, after what he did to you," he said.

That triggered her memory, and she asked, "How did you know about that?"

He blushed. "Leliana told me about the man in your past, and she gave me no details but she did say he was an early disappointment, in Nevarra. When you reacted so poorly to him, I took a guess. And on the journey here he spoke often of a noble woman he would, well, conquer, once he'd arrived in Haven. Someone who he claimed was his. If I'd known he was talking about you, I would have left him on the road. Up a tree. Naked."

A musical laugh came from behind them, and Hawke plopped down on Cullen's other side. Anders and Varric flanked her. Hawke touched Cullen's temple lightly. "I suspected she was his target when I saw him in the training yard with her. I'm even more glad I chased him away, now, though I'm still sorry I slept with him on the trip. But he was very persistent, and I was very bored. All of that praying you Templars do is not exactly fine entertainment."

Cassandra glanced at Anders, who seemed unconcerned. He caught her look and smiled. "I have no ties to monogamy, Seeker. And Hawke would wear out even me."

She elbowed him as Varric chuckled, and the rogue rolled her eyes. "You're all so mean to me," she said with a pout, and Anders leaned forward to kiss her deeply and thoroughly, without any shame.

The rest of them looked around the clearing as though it was the most fascinating thing they'd ever seen.

"How was that for mean, love?" asked Anders after they broke apart.

"Well, you didn't finish, so I'm not ready to pronounce it even," said Hawke. She sobered and looked at Cassandra. "So, what did you decide? Will Anders be allowed to speak?"

Cassandra hesitated and looked at Cullen, who rose to a sitting position. It was enough, and Hawke's eyes grew cold. "I see. May I ask why?"

"The mages will already be heard," said Cassandra. "The rebel mage group is sending representatives, and they'll receive a full seat at the table."

Anders scoffed. "They wouldn't understand what they needed if someone walked up and told them. Believe me, I've tried," he said. "They just want to build nicer prisons for themselves."

"Perhaps that is what they desire," she said quietly. "Perhaps that is what they need to feel safe."

"If they do, then they're fools."

"Nevertheless. It's no more honorable to dictate to a fool than a wise man. It is merely easier."

Anders jumped up and began to pace. "That's not a good enough reason. I don't ask to take their place. Only to join them."

Cassandra sighed. "If you go to the Conclave, there will be no Conclave," she said. "There will be no peace. Do you not understand? If you appear, the talks will cease to be about the future and will only revolve around the past. On you. Your voice is too loud. Setting aside the idea of whether it deserves to be heard, it will drown out everything until there is nothing left but noise."

He frowned. "I wanted a loud voice. It's the only way to get anyone to hear."

"All they will hear is the messenger. The message will be lost, if you are there. I am sorry," she said, and she almost meant it. She twisted her fingers together, and Cullen touched her leg. His support lent her strength. "I will offer you this - my ears will not be closed to you. I do not guarantee your desires will all be granted, but I will listen honestly. I cannot forgive what you did, but forgiveness is not required for diplomacy."

Hawke sneered at the word, but Anders only looked surprised. "You won't let me join, but you'll let me leave?"

She nodded, and he shared a quick glance with the dark-haired rogue. It was enough. Cassandra knew Cullen had been right about his contingencies, and she wondered dully how deadly they would have been. It was almost enough to make her rescind the offer, but she remembered in time that Cullen wanted to atone.

"You and Hawke may both leave."

Varric sighed quietly in what Cassandra thought was relief, and Hawke glared at him. "Why do I have to leave?"

Cassandra shrugged. "You don't. But I thought you might like to stay with your… lover. The leadership position is no longer available."

Hawke produced a dagger from her sleeve, and Cullen tensed. "If Anders isn't here, I need to be, to be his voice in proxy."

"No. It must be me," said Cassandra.

"Why should I trust you? As soon as we're gone, you can do anything you like."

Cullen finally spoke. "Cassandra is honorable," he said, and she looked at him in surprise. She would be, with them, but he was the last person she'd thought would believe she had any honor at all. He only looked at Hawke as he added, "She's an agent of the Divine. And the Seekers are almost too dedicated to upholding their promises. She is the same." He finally glanced at her with a curious expression. "She would cause herself any amount of distress to follow through on her word, once given."

Cassandra tried to hide her confusion and focused on the pair studying her. "If you don't trust me, then this was already lost."

Anders stopped pacing and looked at her. "If I'm to trust you, I'll have the answer to a question. What did you do to me, when we first met? After I introduced myself. You did something new."

She glanced at the people around her, though she didn't linger long on Cullen's face. "The Seekers are granted abilities through their training. They are uncertain until they manifest, but mine allows me to light the lyrium in a person's blood on fire. I attempted to do that to you, though your reaction was not usual."

Cullen made a small noise next to her, but she didn't bother to confirm his fear. Hawke, on the other hand, was more furious than afraid. "You tried to set him on fire?"

"It is not an actual flame. More a sensation. A painful one."

Anders hadn't moved. "Interesting. Would you do it again? Now?"

She stared at him, but he seemed perfectly serious. She shrugged and sent once more, the Fade rippling slightly around her as she found the lyrium and touched it. Once again he seemed to absorb it, and now that she was listening closely the grunt wasn't of pain but pleasure. She stopped when the sounds grew too much, and he smiled as he opened his eyes. They were blue-touched again, and the color faded away slowly as he watched. "That's remarkable. I'm sorely tempted to ask you to come with us."

Cassandra's anger flared once more, but she only said, "So you'll go?"

His mouth settled into a grim line. "Yes. You've presented your case well, and I it's hard to argue with. Moreover, I find myself in the odd position of trusting you, which, if not pleasant, at least gives me hope. I'll go, if you'll give your word that your ears, and your heart, will remain open to us. The Chantry wouldn't listen in Kirkwall, or act when they did. I believe you'll be less idle."

"I do not know how to be idle," said Cassandra, and they all chuckled. She glared. "I appreciate the trust you are giving. I must ask one promise in return - that your violence will not return to Thedas." Cullen would monitor the mages he could track, and they would certainly try to keep eyes on Anders, but Cassandra suspected he was very good at hiding.

"I promise it won't return so long as it isn't needed," he said, and she sighed. It was likely the best promise she would get.

Anders pulled Hawke to her feet and moved towards his mostly packed bags. "We'll leave now. I assume that's what you're hoping for."

Cassandra nodded, and Varric stood as well to say his goodbyes. Cold and impersonal to Anders, only slightly more thawed to Hawke, and then he left, with a brief nod to Cassandra. She thought he was proud of her, and she was oddly pleased by that.

She helped Cullen up gingerly. "Cullen needs to spend the night with the healers, but I will escort you to a safe path out. With two horses, if you will leave them at a nearby inn to be sent back."

Hawke and Anders agreed, but Cullen balked. "I'm going with you," he said. Cassandra's heart squeezed. Of course he would want to spend as much time with Hawke as possible. Even if she loved someone else. Cassandra knew how he felt.

Anders gave him a considering look. "The healing is going to make you sleepy. Light-headed. I'm not sure a walk through the woods will be good for you," he said.

Cullen folded his arms and glared. Cassandra couldn't help but notice how good his biceps looked when he stood that way.

"Oh for Andraste's sake, Cullen, we're not going to kill your girlfriend," said Hawke as she bent over her own things. "Though I wouldn't exactly object to it, right now."

"Don't be jealous, love," said Anders. "It wasn't my pleasure I was looking for in her company. But it will be yours, in the end."

She gave him a grudging smile, looking slightly mollified. "Well. Okay then."

Cassandra had barely moved since Hawke had thrown out her terrifying word, and Cullen cleared his throat. "I'm still accompanying you." And no matter how Cassandra protested, he wouldn't be moved.

They walked a mile to a sheltered path down the mountain, away from the main road, leading the horses behind them. The stablehands had been glad to give two horses to the Right Hand in the dead of night, and for that she was very grateful for her title. Once they reached a safe place, Cassandra stopped them. "This is it," she said.

"Ah yes, I thought this stretch of dirt seemed different from the rest," said Hawke, rolling her eyes. "Thanks for the tour."

Anders' thanks was more sincere, which surprised Cassandra once again, and when he mounted he had a small smile in his eyes. "I told you. We're people. I'm pleased to have met you, Seeker Pentaghast. I suspect you won't say the same about me, but Justice likes you, and that's enough to go on for now."

She didn't understand, but he didn't elaborate and it wasn't important enough to press. Hawke's goodbye to her was curt to the point of rudeness, but she turned to Cullen with her usual winning smile.

"So long, handsome," said Hawke and wound her hands around his neck. She was shorter than he was, and she stood on her tiptoes while he held her hips. They looked so much like comfortable lovers that Cassandra looked away.

But she had to look back when Hawke murmured," You look even more handsome with this," and touched his lip lightly.

Cullen's flush showed up easily under the bright moonlight, and he stammered out a thank you. Hawke breathed a sultry acknowledgment, and before Cassandra could prepare for it the rogue was kissing him deeply, pressing against him in a slow, undulating wave.

Cassandra stood, frozen, until her mind caught up with her and she spun around to examine a tree. It was a very strategically important tree, she tried to tell herself as she blocked out the noises behind her that weren't at all strategically important. No matter how much enjoyment they were conveying.

By the time her examination was finished, Hawke had mounted and was smiling a smile at her that wasn't quite nice. "So long. Good luck with your peace talks."

They watched them ride away until they were lost over the rise of the mountainside. Cassandra scratched her elbow and said, "Are you okay to walk back?" She didn't look around.

"Yes," he said, and his voice sounded a little distant. Like it had traveled away alongside a beautiful rogue, with a seductive smile that even Leliana couldn't match.

Cassandra turned around to walk back to Haven, and Cullen fell into step beside her. They didn't say another word.

By the time they got to the healer's cabins, he was leaning on her shoulder, and she was worried that they wouldn't make it. Fortunately very few people were awake, and the few that were would hardly be fit to testify to their Commander's condition in the morning. The healer glared at her blearily when she woke him up to ask for a bed, but when he heard that Cullen was mostly healed and merely needed monitoring, he brightened considerably and pointed them to a narrow bed in the corner.

Cassandra led her charge there and sat him down, but he wouldn't lay back. He kept trying to talk to her, but she was in no mood.

"Stop being so stubborn," she said. "You need to rest. And you'll rest here." He tried to speak again and she growled. "Hawke was right, you are yappy."

She regretted mentioning her name immediately, as Cullen's face closed off even in its paleness. His cheeks had lost almost all of their color on the walk, and he looked as though he was dying. Which he wasn't, of course, but the sight didn't make her feel any calmer.

"Go to sleep," she said again, and turned around to talk to the healer. She explained what his wounds had been, and that he'd received a healing from a visiting mage, but that with his concussion it would make her feel easier if he slept with the healer. The healer nodded in agreement and promised to take good care of him before wandering back to doze. His assistant had listened to the whole exchange and assured Cassandra that she liked to stay up all night. She didn't need to worry about her friend.

Cassandra thanked her gratefully, then turned around to leave and jumped when Cullen was standing behind her. "What part of rest do you not understand?" she asked. "I am beginning to fear your concussion robbed you of your mind."

Cassandra propelled him back to the bed, but he hooked himself on a door frame and swung around until he was face-to-face with her. "You shouldn't sleep in that tent," he said. "Not when there's a perfectly good bed in my - I mean, your - room." His eyes were exhausted but determined, and she sighed.

"It is summer. The tent is adequate."

"Please," he said quietly, and she cursed inwardly. Even jealous beyond all reason, she still couldn't resist his requests. He moved closer and swayed before catching himself against the wall.

Maker save her, he was very, very close.

"Promise me," he said. "I won't sleep at all unless I know you're comfortable."

She resisted pointing out that he was practically falling asleep upright as it was. "I promise," she said.

He smiled slowly, and a little dangerously. She wondered how awake he even was. Her eyes caught on his new scar and followed it, and she wondered the same thing about herself.

"How does it look?" he asked softly.

Good enough to devour, she thought incoherently, and she swallowed. Hawke had certainly thought so, and that still produced a flash of envy, but Hawke also seemed extremely far away at the moment. Cullen most certainly did not, and he was looking at her like a man with a concussion. A man who didn't remember that the woman underneath him had broken his trust into a thousand pieces. His gaze was scorching on her face, the gold flecks in his eyes melting over her, and she couldn't help but shiver at the the delicate flutters of his eyelashes as he fought to keep them open.

"It looks like you need to go to sleep before you fall over," she said as firmly as she could. Which turned out to be a breathy whisper. If only she hadn't just seen how he looked when he kissed someone in earnest. He didn't move, still waiting for her answer, and she finally said, "Your scar looks much better on you than mine does on me."

He frowned. "You're beautiful," he said, and this time she heard the muzziness in his voice. He leaned down and brushed his lips across her skin so gently the pressure almost wasn't there at all. But the heat that flooded through her was, and she knew she had to leave before she took advantage of him in a way that could never be taken back.

"I want to kiss you," he said. The breath of his speech over her ear raised goosebumps all over her body, and she bit her lip. His eyes were closed, and he barely seemed to know where he was. "Just one more time. Before the end."

Her heart stopped as his mouth inched towards her own, and she put her hands on his chest. He sighed happily, but she carefully moved him away from her and led him across the room. "I'm not Hawke," said Cassandra with regret as she lowered him into his bed. She gave in to a single temptation as she corded her fingers through his hair, blessing him with whatever holiness she had remaining.

Cullen murmured something as she walked away, but he was already slipping into dreams before she was out of the door.

When she got to the Chantry, after stopping by the on-duty guard patrol to tell them to keep a sharper watch for the night, she considered ignoring her promise and going back to her safe, comfortable tent. It was unlikely Cullen would remember her promise, and she was strangely averse to going back to her old room. But in the end she bent to the will of her conscience. Cullen had said she was honorable, and she supposed that included even the times that no one would know if she was or not.

Inside, she tried to ignore the signs of his presence as she went through her trunks and found something to sleep in. She was exhausted enough that she didn't care what, and she had to admit it did feel good not to be on the ground anymore once she was safely on the bed.

She rolled over to find a comfortable position, and her eyes flew open in horror. The pillow smelled like Cullen, the way he did when he was lying next to her in bed and humming as she kissed her way up his neck. Sweat and soap and the hint of cinnamon that always seemed to be on his skin no matter where he was.

It was terribly wrong, but before she could stop herself, she was clutching it to her face, breathing in deeply and lost in memories that were equal mixes of pain and pleasure. But the pleasure won out in the end, and before she fell asleep she brought herself to a shuddering, aching climax, whispering his name into the darkness of the room.

Exhaustion took her soon after, but she held the pillow to her as she drifted away. Like it was the man himself, wrapped inside her arms.