Kirkwall, 9:32

"So, do you treat all of your junior templars this badly?"

It was the first thing she ever said to Cullen, after helping him defeat the abomination that had once been Wilmod.

She had a cocky way about her; all leather with two knives strapped to her slender hips, dark hair that was cut short and fell into blue eyes that always seemed to be amused with what she saw, thin lips always pulled into a smirk, even when she was covered in the blood of her enemies.

He had only been in Kirkwall just shy of a year when he was promoted to knight-captain. Cullen had thrown himself into his duties, quickly learning that the city itself was in turmoil. Kirkwall was muggy and stiflingly hot, as though it were ready to burst aflame at any moment. The tight streets and tall walls did nothing to help Cullen with his claustrophobia, and he was relieved to find that he would be spending most of his time at the Gallows - a small island just off from the rest of the city.

Whether it was the recent influx of refugees from the south, escaping the Blight, or the rumors of blood magic seeping into the walls of the city, he wasn't quite sure yet; however, since the day he set foot in the city - head still spinning and stomach still queasy from the long voyage over the waking sea - he had felt as though the city was just seconds from falling in on itself.

Kinloch Hold had taught him one thing - never give an inch, not even for a second, and especially not to mages.

His new rank as captain gave him private quarters and a desk. He quickly acquired a pile of paperwork and reports from around the city - being second in command to the knight-commander, he ended up with everything left over from his own duties. Most of his work was anything and everything that was not directly handled by the city guard - more specifically, anything to do with demons and blood magic.

He had seen firsthand what damage could be done by blood mages. He had been seen his best friends killed, had been tortured by demons, had seen the lengths blood mages would go to attain forbidden power.

Kirkwall was his home now, and he would not see it burn.

When corruption had been rumored to be popping up within the very ranks of the templars, he had started investigating, wanting to cut the poison out before it spread.

Cullen took no chances anymore.

He followed Wilmod out to the Wounded Coast, and with the help of a few passers-by, he had been quick to defeat the demon.

"I had my suspicions he was up to something," Cullen said in response to her question. "So I followed him out here."

"My, my," she said, eyebrow twitching in amusement. "Quite the aggression just for suspicions."

"He was an abomination, my lady."

"Yes, after you broke his nose and possibly a few teeth," she smirked, arms folded.

He sighed, exasperated with her already. He wondered if a single word that left her lips was ever not dripping with sarcasm or humor, as though everything around her was a joke.

He took into account her companions; a younger, prettier girl with a likeness to her - her sister, he figured. A darker woman with the attire of a pirate, albeit much more revealing - he tried to keep his eyes from wandering the expansive territory of bare skin. And an elf, with olive skin and white-blond hair, carrying a great sword and looking displeased.

"Your accent is Fereldan," he said. "Who may you be?"

"Hawke," she said, holding out a hand for him to shake. "At your service," she said, her eyes shining.

"Ser Cullen Rutherford, knight-captain," he nodded his head to her. "I am currently investigating rumors of corruption amongst my men - which evidentially, is not fruitless." He nodded to the carnage behind him. "I have cause to believe that there may be something going on at the Blooming Rose - the, ah - tavern - "

"Brothel," Hawke said. "Full of lovely ladies."

"Ah, yes," he said, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. "I haven't quite made it there to question the ladies who - "

"Whores," said Hawke, her smirk plastered to her face. "Want me to go snooping for you?"

"Uh, would you?"

"Shit, it's not like we have anything better to do," Hawke laughed.

Over the next few weeks, Cullen quickly learned the value of his friendship with Hawke. She was able to go to the places and talk to the people he otherwise did not have access to. Many of the reports he found were mostly hearsay - he couldn't just break down a door and take someone to the circle on speculation alone.

But Hawke was able to wander the streets of Kirkwall with ease, and she was his eyes and ears.

If anything, she thrived off the danger of it all.

"You're pretty okay for a templar," Hawke said, sipping on Cullen's whiskey she had helped herself to. She leaned back in her chair, boots crossed upon his desk - something he had given up on deterring her from.

"You're pretty okay for a vigilante," he said, before taking a sip of the whiskey she had been kind enough to bring over for him.

He couldn't quite remember when she had started coming to visit him, and he wasn't sure how she had even found his office. She wasn't a fan of templars, and wanted to keep their business meetings on the down-low - so she snuck through the window of his office. He often kept his window open to let in the breeze from the ocean. The saltiness was so unlike his home, and he was happy for the reminder that he was as far away as possible from Ferelden.

"There are guards all over the walls, how ever did you get in undetected?" he asked the first time she climbed from the window sill.

"Magic," she said, wagging her eyebrows. "Joking! Maker's holy tits, do you ever bristle like my dog when he sees a mouse," she laughed. "I'm stealthy."

They had no set schedule for their meetings - sometimes she showed up a couple times in a week, sometimes he wouldn't see her for a month. Once, she had swung through the window as he was washing, and had nodded in approval at the sight of his manhood. He still turned red at the memory.

"So what's the scoop today, captain," she said, scratching at her tousled hair.

He looked over the couple of reports he had kept separate from his main pile. The ones that didn't have as much hard evidence for him to push for a search warrant, but enough to give him the gut feeling that they were legitimate.

"There are some reports from the alienage," he said, handing her the report so she could see the location. "Someone claiming that an apostate is hiding amongst the elves."

Hawke read the paper, then handed it back. "Disregard," she said with a shrug. "I know the elf. She's weird, but not a mage."

Cullen nodded, handing her another report. "This one, then. Down in Darktown…"

Although he knew that sharing such confidential information was probably frowned upon, he had grown to trust Hawke. Because of her, his templars had been able to bring in a couple of apostates - and she was able to rid Kirkwall of blood mages at her own discretion. He was thankful that she never outright said any details to him, but the fact she was fighting for his cause made him feel that sidestepping the rules was okay, sometimes.

At Kinloch Hold, he had learned the importance of not wasting time. Rumors of Jowan being a blood mage were left lingering for far too long, and look what happened there. The templars were limited to their rules and regulations, their policies and investigations. Hawke, not so much.

She also appreciated the gold he supplied her with. It was a mutual business agreement.

"So, any big plans for the summer?" Cullen said after giving her enough information to potentially track down three blood mages. He leaned back in his chair, stretching.

"Actually, Varric and I might be going on an expedition of sorts," she said, getting to her feet and grabbing their glasses. He watched as she made her way to the cabinet where he kept his whiskey.

"Oh?"

"Yep," she said, refilling their glasses with the dark liquid and then returning to her seat. "Gonna make us rich."

"Well, I wish you luck," he said, taking his glass and taking a big gulp. He grimaced at the burn. "Gonna share the wealth when you return?" he said, giving her a rare smile.

Hawke chuckled. "That depends, what will you do for me?" she said, wagging her eyebrows. His face flushed. "I've seen what you're packing, captain. Let me have a taste," she said, leaning forward.

"I, uh - "

"Maker, but it's fun to make you squirm!" she laughed, leaning back and putting her boots back on his desk. "You blushing virgin, you."

He frowned, taking another sip of his whiskey. "Maker's breath…"

"But actually, I plan on buying the old Amell estate for my dear old mum," she continued. "Aren't I just the bestest daughter ever?"

"Amell?" Cullen wondered if he heard her right. A name from his past, one he tried to forget. And yet sometimes, when he was closing in on his next dosage of lyrium and the effects were wearing off, he dreamt of her.

"Yeah," Hawke said, oblivious to his brooding. "Mother's maiden name is Amell. She grew up in that house. By rights, it should be hers but her worthless good-for-nothing brother pissed it away - Maker, Cullen, you look like you've seen a ghost."

He shook his head. "I - I just - I think I knew an Amell, once. Probably a different family."

"Oh, I forgot you're a templar from Ferelden," Hawke said, chuckling again. "You probably knew my cousin, Trixie." At his blank expression, she frowned. "Beatrice? Oh, wait, no - Solona! She started going by her second name because she hated her first so much. Not like I can talk, no one even knows my first name - "

"Yes, I knew her," he said slowly.

"Yeah, her mother is a bitch who abandoned her at a chantry in Lothering when she was a baby. She grew up there and then we eventually moved to Lothering and we spent some of our childhood together. Well, she was closer with Bethany than me - being closer in age and all. She was quite the little shit, actually. I'm sure you saw that in the Circle too."

Cullen nodded but said nothing.

"Then she goes on to become a Grey Warden and kills an archdemon. Now she's the commander or some shit, and getting married too. My, my, how quick they grow up." She chuckled again, wiping a fake tear. "Cullen, what's wrong? You're awfully quiet."

"Just a name I did not imagine to hear again, that's all," he said, clearing his throat.

"Wait, are you - " Hawke said, then started laughing. "Maker's hairy arse, what a small world."

"What?"

"She used to write to my sister while staying at the Circle. It was rare we heard from her, but when we did it was big, long letters, full of teenage angst and shit. She once wrote about a handsome templar she had met, and how he was always so nice to her and how she hoped to one day run away with him and have all his golden-haired babies," she finished, leaning across the desk and tugging at his curls. She sat down, holding at her sides as she laughed.

"Did she really say that?" Cullen said his face burning.

"Something along those lines," Hawke said, wiping at real tears now. Her pale skin was blotchy with the exertion. "Maker, that is funny."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Why, do you want me to get a good word in for you?" Hawke said, winking. "She's getting married now, you dummy."

"No, I just mean - " he trailed off. "Nevermind."

"What?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on," she said with a roll of her eyes. "It's not like you shagged her - "

Cullen looked up too quickly, and her eyes widened.

"You did?"

"It wasn't like that - "

"Oh," said Hawke, crossing her arms. "How so?"

"It's complicated - can we speak of something else, please?"

"Complicated, how?" Hawke cocked her head to one side. "Oh, because of the whole templar-mage thingy?"

"Well, she wasn't a circle mage anymore, if that's what you mean."

"So what - "

"Hawke," he said, so firmly she actually shut her mouth for once. "It's going to bring up painful memories. Just drop it, okay?"

Hawke pursed her lips but nodded. "Fine."

Kirkwall, 9:33

It was while Hawke was gone that the report crossed Cullen's desk.

A warrant for the arrest of Bethany Hawke.

Cullen gulped. Of course, he had had his suspicions. But whenever he brought them up, Hawke had waved them away. He didn't want to push it too much in fear of losing his contact to the seedy underbelly of the city, so he dropped it.

But now, here it was in black and white. An order from knight-commander Meredith. An order he dare not question.

He had volunteered to be the one to extract her. He at least was an acquaintance with the family and would be as gentle as he could about it.

But he was not prepared for Leandra's crying.

Crying made he uncomfortable in the best of situations, and in contrast to Bethany's calmness, it was quite jarring.

"It's okay, mother," the girl said. "I'll be okay."

"I've already lost one baby," Leandra screeched as her brother held her back. The two templars who had accompanied Cullen reached for their hilts, but Cullen waved them down. "How dare you take another from me! You monsters. You're all monsters."

"I'm sorry, Lady Leandra," said Cullen. "It's for the best."

"For years you bastards hunted my husband and now he's dead and you're taking our baby away," Leandra sobbed as Bethany walked silently to Cullen, who put her in shackles carved with ruins to dispell magic.

"I trust you, but it's just a precaution," he whispered apologetically to her.

"I know," she responded, big eyes full of sadness."

"Just you wait until Alicia hears of this!" Leandra called from the doorway as they made their way down the steps to the awaiting carriage. Cullen preferred to keep extractions hidden from prying eyes, and pulled Bethany's hood on her cloak over her head gently.

Hastily, they climbed into the carriage before Leandra's hollering lured curious people to their windows, and with a crack of a whip, they were off, trundling down the uneven road.

Cullen, now alone in the carriage while his fellow templars sat with the driver, felt uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry - "

"It's okay," she said, giving him a faint smile. "I'm sort of relieved, really."

"Relieved?"

"You caught me," she said, holding up her shackled wrists. "No more running, no more hiding. Sort of a blessing in disguise, really."

Cullen stayed silent. The contrast between the Hawke sisters was bizarre. Bethany was quiet and polite, calm and collected, as opposed to her wild and abrasive sibling.

Bethany sat quietly for the remainder of the trip, her hands resting in her lap as the carriage trundled towards the docks. Cullen watched the nightsky as they went, wonderin about the shitstorm that was coming when Hawke returned home and found out her sister was gone.

Cullen was off duty and thinking of heading to bed for an early night when he received word that there was a situation at the Chantry courtyard. He was about to disregard it and leave it to the city guard until he heard who the accomplices were.

"Maker's breath," he said, grabbing his cloak and storming from the room.

A quick trip across the water and through High Town, he found a small crowd of bystanders at the archway into the Chantry's courtyard. The muggy heat of the day seemed to have seeped into the stone buildings of the city, which now radiated the heat back into the night. Cullen felt sweat running down his spine underneath his armor, his face shiny and pink.

Ser Aveline, the captain of the city, saw him approaching with half a dozen templars and marched over, hand on the hilt of her sword and her face grave.

"I have this under control, Ser Cullen," she said. "Just a stupid drunken prank, we'll have it cleaned come morning - "

"Let me see her," Cullen said, sighing. So much for an early night. "I know what this is about," he added, and Avaline nodded. So did she.

She stepped aside and led Cullen and his entourage forward. Through the crowd and a row of city guards, he was met with quite the mess.

Plant pots had been smashed and the soil spilled all across the marble steps leading to the chantry. He saw several glass bottles had been smashed, as well the remains of the chantry board broken into pieces.

But that wasn't the worst of it.

It looked as though they had ripped down the hanging man sign from the tavern in Lowtown, dragged it up to Hightown, and left it sitting in a crude position at the foot of the steps.

Along the wall behind it, the words 'Suck It Fuckers' had been painted in sloppy black words, splotches of paint dripping underneath.

"For fuck's sake, Hawke," Cullen muttered.

Sitting on the ground, back to back with their wrists shackled together, was Hawke and Isabela. Before even getting close he smelt the booze, heavy in the air surrounding them, and upon seeing him approach, Hawke whistled.

"Here he is!" she cried. "Big cock Cullen and his gang o' fuckers."

Isabela chuckled, her head lolling against Hawkes' shoulder. "He can arrest me any day," she said.

"So, where the fuck's me sister," Hawke slurred.

"At the circle tower, where she belongs."

"Oh, blow me," Hawke said, rolling her eyes. "Belongs, sheshongs," she added, then sniggered to herself. "That doesn't even make sense."

"You don't make sense, you stupid drunk bitch," said Isabela. "Oh, fuck, Hawke. You got me in trouble again."

"You get yourself in trouble, o pirate queen," said Hawke, stretching out the last syllable.

"Hawke, this is serious," said Aveline, looking especially disgruntled.

"Oh, what? The paint job?" Hawke said, shrugging.

"Paint job, blow job, hand job, rim job," said Isabela, then sniggered.

Avaline went to say something, but Cullen touched her elbow and shook his head. He slowly approached the duo, crouching down so he could be at eye level.

"Hawke," he said. "I know you're upset - "

"That's an understatement," she said, glaring at her feet. She was missing a boot.

"But acting out isn't going to get you any favors."

"I jus' wanna see her," she said, looking up at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and watery, and he realized she was crying. "I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Cullen nodded his head. "I'll see if I can set up a meeting. But you need to behave, or you're going to end up in jail."

"It's not so bad," said Isabela, shaking her head. "Happened to me a few times - I turned out fine."

Cullen ignored her. "Now, I'll order you set free - on the condition, you behave, go home, sober up, and come back tomorrow to clean this mess and pay for the damage."

Isabela threw her head back and groaned, but Hawke nodded solemnly. "Deal."

Cullen nodded, then stood up. "Release them," he said.

Aveline looked choked. "But - "

"By order of the templars, release them," he said, although he shrugged apologetically to Avaline.

The city guards fumbled with the keys and released the girls, who both unsteadily got to their feet.

"So, what shall we do now?" said Isabela, rubbing her wrists.

"We're escorting you both home," said Avaline firmly. "What hole in the ground did you come from?"

"Oh, Hawke, can't I stay at yours?" Isabela whined.

"Come on," said Hawke, roping an arm around her friends' shoulders. "Off we pop."

"See you here tomorrow, Hawke," Cullen called after the escorting guards. "Don't make me come looking for you."

Cullen arrived the next morning to find Hawke and Isabela already scrubbing at the paint on the walls. They stank of whiskey and beer and both looked haggard, but he was pleased to see they kept to their word.

"Hope you're not feeling too worse for wear," said Cullen as he approached with a couple of his fellow templars.

Hawke groaned.

"We would've been to bed much earlier if someone didn't want to angry fuck," said Isabela, rolling her eyes.

Cullen closed his eyes momentarily - he really did not want to picture that lest he lost control - then sighed.

"There is going to be a fine, you know."

"I know."

"You're fine," Isabela added with a wink.

Cullen rolled his eyes. "What were you thinking?"

"I wanted to see my sister," Hawke said, dropping her rag on the floor and standing up straight. "You took her from me."

"It was an order I couldn't ignore."

"Fuck orders."

"Unless we're naked," Isabela added.

"Hawke," Cullen said, sighing. "Why trash the place?"

"Because I wanted - "

"To see your sister, I know, you said that," he said, growing impatient. "But why trash the chantry."

"They wouldn't let me in," Hawke said, squaring her shoulders.

"Why were you trying to get into the chantry?'

"To see my sister!" Hawke said, her voice rising.

"Hawke," said Cullen, trying to hide a smile. "We don't keep the mages here."

Her shoulders slumped. "What?"

"We keep them at the Gallows."

"I thought that's where you lived?"

He shook his head. "It's where we all live."

"Then who lives there?" Hawke said, pointing up at the tall tower of the chantry.

Cullen couldn't hide his grin. "The Grand Cleric and the sisters?"

"And that prudish bastard Sebastian," Isabela added.

"Oh, fuck me," Hawke said, kicking at a bucket of soapy water and sending it splashing across the cobblestones. "For fucks sakes."

Cullen shrugged. "I'm sorry, Hawke - "

"You should be," Hawke said, and he noticed she was crying, although she quickly wiped her eyes. "I have always kept her safe. I wanted to take her into the Deep Roads with me but mother insisted it was too dangerous. I thought she would be safe here - "

"She's safe at the circle - "

Hawke spat on the ground. "Fuck the circle."

"You're angry."

"No shit."

"Just get this mess cleaned up," Cullen said. "Stop acting like an idiot, you're better than that. Smarten up."

She opened her mouth to reply, but thought better and closed it. She sniffed, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "A letter, from our mother," she said. "Will you give it to her? Please?"

Cullen took a breath, glancing at his fellow templars. "You know I can't."

"Please?"

"No."

She bit her lip and nodded, clasping the paper between her fingertips and looking down at the ground.

Cullen turned to his men and nodded. "Back to the Gallows," he ordered.

As the templers turned to lead the way back through Hightown, Cullen snatched the letter from Hawke's fingertips and slipped it into his belt.