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Chapter Text

Knight-Captain Cullen knew the great queen of the undercity was from Ferelden, a fact she never really shared with those in Kirkwall who had not known her before. He had heard about her escape from Lothering and hoped she was as sympathetic to the plight of their people as he was, having come here only after the Blight was over. But when he reached the harbours of Kirkwall and found her already running her own smuggler’s ring, taking out opponents by violent and often deadly means, he understood the nickname which was used by allies and enemies alike; The Spider Queen. It was as if she had always been there, as ancient as the city itself. People couldn’t really remember what it had been like before her arrival. When Cullen interrogated the poor individuals in touch with her, they either; cowered in fear from the mentioning of her name alone, or ; spoke of her with such fondness that Cullen thought they must be under some spell. Which he wouldn’t put past her, since she was also a powerful mage with skills taught to her outside the Circle.

Her den or centre of the web, as it were, lay deep within the tunnels of Darktown. A place where she was the law, tough but fair. Somehow she’d brought both the Carta and Coterie into her dealings and every gang who opposed her, was either killed, bribed or recruited. Every soul in the undercity was afraid of her and kept to the shadows when she strolled through her Queendom on the rare occasion she did so. Cullen had never seen her, but had been told about her by others less fortunate. Beautiful to behold, with venomous purple eyes and a smirk to terrify the fiercest warrior. Long, sleek body with pale skin and a heaving chest, which entranced men into doing her bidding. Tales told of her melodious voice, both fair and captivating, promising everything but giving nothing. Rumour had it she was so like a spider that she killed her mates after taking their body and soul, destroying, even devouring their bodies. Cullen was sure it was just gossip, recruits trying to scare each other while on guard duty. Nevertheless, he remained on edge each time the name Hawke reached his ears.  

He was, when it came down to it, very superstitious and mages had kept him on his toes ever since the incident at Kinloch hold.

Thus, Cullen was nervous to have business in the Undercity with said demonic female mage named Hawke. He brought two knights with him, Waltina whom he knew from Ferelden and Emmer, a born Kirkwaller, given to the Chantry at an early age when her family couldn’t feed their many children. They marched through Darktown, beggars and poor folk scrambling out of their way. Templars were just as hated down here as they were in the Circle. People spat after them, shouting slurs and profanities. His first week in Kirkwall, he had been shocked to see such hatred, but after his first year, he’d gotten used to it.

They were here, in this maker-forsaken place to deal with the issue of the five escaped mages, who had disappeared in the dead of night by mysterious means. As he suspected foul play and nobody on the upper levels of the city could be of service, he’d decided to quit the case. However, his taskmaster Meredith was not so willing to drop charges. She wanted the mages back into her fold and as such had ordered Cullen to consult the Spider Queen.

Therefore, Cullen found himself and his two knights outside of her lair, guarded by two carta dwarves with thin, agile armour and a black dagger in each hand. Their faces obscured by cloths, except for the eyes. They got to their feet as the three Templars approached.

“Good morning, gentlemen” he saluted. “May I speak with serah Hawke?”

The carta dwarves took one look at Cullen and burst out laughing. “She done take no templers in ‘er den. Leave.”

The knights behind him began rattling in their armour, but Cullen made his best attempt at being non-dismissive. “Please. I can leave my sword and shield outside, if it would make serah Hawke feel more comfortable.”

After a brief glance at each other, one of them twitched his head towards the door. The other slunk inside and was gone for maybe five minutes. When he returned, he nodded promptly.

“If you leave the underlings and weapons outside, the Spider Queen will see ya,” said the dwarf.

Cullen looked over his shoulders at the young Templars behind him and sighed. “Fine. Ser Emmer, Waltina. Stay here. I’ll be along shortly.”

Waltina’s eyes widened. “Ser Cullen, are you sure?”

“There can be no trust of Templars if none is shown,” said Cullen and patted her arm. “It’s alright. They know better than to mess with the Order. If anything happens to me, at least you know where and how.”

Cullen stuck his sword into the street and hung his shield on it. Waltina and Emmer stayed behind when Cullen let the two dwarves lead him inside, shutting and locking the door behind. He clinked noisily through the dark room, which appeared to have been a wine-cellar at one point, with large shelves on every wall and a smell of grapes heavy in the air. Their walk was short but Cullen walked slowly, hesitantly, as though approaching the lair of hungry predators. He thought constantly of the rumours, gossip in the ranks of his subordinates, and tried to dismiss them as nothing but tall tales. But the darkness and smell of liquor made his stomach turn and his throat close up.

The dwarves finally stopped in front of a menacing door with a Hawke painted in a shade of red disconcertingly similar to that of blood. There they left him, giving no further instructions before hurrying back to the entrance.  Out of other options, Cullen took a deep breath, and then pounded at the door with four hard beats like those of his heart.

A moment passed in absolute silence, the world seemed to halt then the door slid open, slowly and quietly. The room inside was warm, covered in red fabrics from floor to ceiling. He stepped inside, a stair went up to higher levels in the corner, but it was locked with a metal gate. There was a large double bed in one corner, a desk with a comfortable chair in the other. But standing in the middle of the room, just below a chandelier with red crystals and burning candles, was the most beautiful woman Cullen had ever seen. She had dark hair flowing in curls over her shoulders. Her purple eyes shone with power. And oh, she was completely naked. The black curls just barely covered her round breasts. Her long limbs moved silently towards him. Her smile glimmered in the dark-lit room. When she spoke, Cullen almost dropped to his knees from the sound alone.

“Knight-Captain. To what do I owe the pleasure, hm?” She dragged out the syllables of the last word and added a sweet hum at the end.  That, combined with her movement, reminded Cullen more of a cat than of a spider.

 He didn’t answer her. He could only stare into her mesmerizing eyes and give a slight: “Er, I, uh…”

“Excuse me for being so scantily clad, dear Knight,” Hawke said sweetly as she walked around him. Even though she didn’t touch him, he could feel warmth coming off her like fire. Her very skin prickled with lightning. He was sure that if he tried anything, she would electrocute him like a lightning strike from a thunderstorm.

“This place gets so very stuffy sometimes,” she continued. “Please tell me what I can do for you?”

Cullen felt how her grip on him loosened enough for him to speak sensibly, though it came out faster and a lot less eloquently than he had intended. “Mass-breakout of the Circle!”

“Dear me!” she exhaled and put her pinkie near her lips, her swelling, red, perfect lips. “I wonder how that could have happened.”

Cullen gulped. “My commander wondered if you might have any …”

Hawke flipped her hair behind her shoulders, revealing her ample cleavage, and nodded for him to continue. But how could he? He gawked like a schoolboy at her.

“If you …” he stammered. “That is…”  Cullen watched her breasts heave as she inhaled. “Do you?”

Hawke exhaled again in a confident laugh. “How should I know? Many mages run about town without me knowing about it.”

Cullen mustered his courage and peeled away his eyes from her chest to meet her gaze. “I thought that you knew everything worth knowing in Kirkwall, messere.”

Hawke nodded slowly and turned her back to him. Her form was that of an hourglass. Her backside gloriously round, ending in muscular thighs. Cullen bit his tongue, tried fixing his eyes on hers as she turned again, and sat down on the edge of the bed as if it was a throne. He was flustered and hot, his groin aching with need. He was thankful for the groin cloth that prevented the viewer from seeing his current state, but he realized she probably already knew the effect she had on her victims.

Hawke spread her legs and Cullen stared up into the ceiling. She smirked. “But if you had a mass-breakout that I didn’t know about, it might not be so bad. They will come right back, don’t you think? Why in the Maker’s blood did they break out if the Circle is such a nice place?”

Hawke’s disdain for the Circle was not un-heard-of, and frankly not unfounded, but as she took the Maker’s name in vain while being ironic over his beliefs, he felt flustered with anger. He refused to believe she had nothing to do with it, let alone knew nothing about it.

“Messere Hawke,” he said sternly. “Tell me what I need to know. I know you are interested in keeping people safe. That’s all your dealings in a nutshell, misguided and disguised as they are.”

Hawke hissed. “Oof, Knight-Captain. Bordering on threats there. That’s not your style. Should I call my boys back in?”

“I really want us to work together on this,” said Cullen having finally gotten over the initial shock of seeing the Spider Queen in real life. “You have a lot of influence above your station. You hear whispers others fail to notice. You have eyes in the darkest, deepest places. Help me with this.”

“I’m flattered you think I know more than I do,” said Hawke spreading her legs even further apart, if that was even possible. “But why do you think I should help you? I would not send any of my kind into your prison.”

Cullen gulped at her complete exposure and tried his best to avoid staring at those, neatly trimmed, bulging red lips slick with need. It would be so easy to just walk over there, undress and enter her. He fought his urging instinct with waning strength.

“I, uh, you wouldn’t,” said Cullen, losing his focus again. “Not for free anyhow.”

Hawke smiled, suddenly intrigued. “What are you suggesting?”

“We can make a deal,” suggested Cullen. “You provide information and I’ll give you something in return.”

Hawke paused and tilted her head to the side, pondering something, wondering. Sizing him up for the slaughter? For someone so exposed, so vulnerable, she was as fearsome as a demon of the Fade. He waited patiently as she made her decision.

“You were right in that I did hear about the mass-breakout, even though I myself had nothing to do with it,” said Hawke, carefully weighing each word. She hesitated and the purple flicker of her eyes seemed to diminish.

Cullen came to an awkward realization. Was she equally afraid of him as he were of her? Or was it something about the break-out? Did the escaped mages scare her? He wondered if one of the mages had been one she herself had put there in her early years in Kirkwall. Was that why she obscured herself within this wine-cellar? Suddenly, the powerful Spider seemed to shrink before his eyes and looked more human than ever.

“So you know who it might be?” he tried tentatively.

Hawke arose. “Perhaps.”

“Tell me,” he urged with his new-found courage.

“Hold,” she said and walked closer to him again. “You mentioned a deal.”

“I did,” said Cullen solemnly. “If it’s in my power to give, I’ll do it.”

“That desperate, are you?” Hawke purred. She was so close now; he could feel her warmth again and longed to be a part of it. She glanced quickly down at his groin, which had not died down in the least. “In more ways than one, it seems.”

Cullen sighed in frustration over himself and her. “Please, mistress. Let’s resolve this matter first. What do you need?”

Hawke smirked again and circled him. He felt very exposed, as if she could see right through his armour. His anxiety was proved right when she reached up and undid his shoulder pieces, one after the other. He said nothing, just stood there and let her work. The metal clanked heavily onto the floor as she continued taking apart the rest of his armour, starting with his chest piece. It rattled to the floor, followed by his arms and gauntlets. Underneath, he had a chainmail, and he silently begged her to remove it as well. She unclasped the buckle at the neck where the chainmail hung and it thudded to the floor. She stripped him of his greaves and unbuckled the belt that held his groin cloth but not his leather trousers and white, linen shirt. She stopped and looked up into his eyes.

“Very nice armour you have there,” she whispered and nodded towards the set. “It looks even better on my floor.”

Cullen swallowed. This was it. The rumours were about to prove true. It was hard to determine if he was more eager than scared. But she didn’t go any further. She stepped back and took in the full view of him. “You only wanted my armour?”

Hawke smiled demonically. “Not precisely.” She nonetheless picked it up with surprising strength and placed in the dark corner by the stairs. “I want you to walk back to your tower not wearing your armour, and see how people greet you when you’re not in Templar gear. That must be a first for you.”

Cullen felt confused. “Are you not going to …?”

Hawke hissed again. “Oh, you came here to …” She seductively tilted her head raised her eyebrows. His eyes once again fell on her chest.

Cullen blushed. “No, that’s not what I … You just have a … reputation. But I’m grateful to find out it’s unfounded.”

Hawke laughed. “I don’t take Templars in my den. My carta boys told you that, did they not?”

Cullen shook his head. “I will never understand you.”

“So I believe I owe you some information now, that you’ve so graciously given me a new armour set,” said Hawke amusingly. “Ask.”

Chapter Text

As he reached the harbour and got on a ferry taking him back to the Gallows, Cullen was silent, deep in thought.

It was the walk through town that had left him puzzled. Outside of his Templar armour, he had first felt exposed and vulnerable. But passing the normally violent, suspicious people without his armour proved safer. They thought him nothing more than a normal citizen, perhaps on his way back home after a hard day’s work. He’d seen the city in a completely different light, although put-off by the hardships of it’s lower class inhabitants, had been inspired. These were the people he was serving as a Templar. Not the Order, not even the Chantry really. He’d been so awestruck by his encounter with the Spider Queen, that he hadn’t really understood the depth of her wisdom. He wanted to see her again, talk to her as an equal, share his philosophies and gain her approval.

It wasn’t until he reached the Gallows and been probed by his peers, that he recognised he must have fallen under her spell, like so many others. He even recognized the words he himself thought and spoke, from her earlier victims that he’d interrogated. He shook his head at his foolishness, to have been so blinded by her beauty that he didn’t realize her power.

Cullen reported instantly to Knight-Commander Meredith’s office, wanting to get rid of the information as quickly as possible so that the thought of Hawke would leave too. He stood with his hands behind his back, swaying casually on his heels, giving the full report of Hawke’s substantial information.

She’d claimed the break-out was manufactured by an ex-Templar who was relatively new to the Order. She’d also claimed that she didn’t know his name. He had been dismissed recently for harbouring forbidden texts on blood magic and handing them out to apprentices in the library. He was one of the Templars who’d made it through Tarohne’s trap, seemingly unscathed and no worse for wear. However, according to Hawke, he had been possessed and was now an abomination of great power. Which was why she feared him so much and kept to the shadows. This was also the reason why she wouldn’t allow Templars in her lair; she couldn’t know which other Templars were possessed. The possessed Templar had freed five apprentices whom he’d had close relationships with. Hawke had said that maybe there was grooming of young mage girls involved, although this was just a rumour relayed to her by the dwarf Varric Tehtras. The information shocked him, but didn’t seem to have surprised Meredith. Just as well, she saw threats everywhere. That was why she was so productive and thorough. It was one of the reasons he admired her so.

“Good work,” said Meredith while writing something on a piece of paper. “You’re hereby suspended for the remainder of the week, on basis of carelessness on duty.”

Cullen stuttered. “I’m sorry? Suspended?”

“Until the week is out,” Meredith said and folded up the note. Then she sighed and met his gaze, her eyes suddenly soft and excusing. “Any other Templar and I would have them thrown out of the order. Return to your post first thing next week, armed and armoured. Dismissed.”

“Yes, Knight-Commander,” said Cullen, saluted and left the room.

-

He’d heard about Templars flogging themselves to get rid of earthly temptations and he seriously considered it when the image of Hawke appeared before him once more. He shook his head fiercely and locked himself inside his room. The city was dark and quiet, save for the usual echoes of shady people roaming the night in search of easy prey. Perhaps Hawke was out there among them? Maybe she wanted to rid herself of him in the same way? He shut the windows, drew the curtains and undressed, washed his face and went to bed.

The thought of Hawke wouldn’t leave, her purple eyes shone in the dark over his head. He wanted that prickly skin to tickle him, feel her delicate warmth, try his fingers on her, inside of her swollen heat, and kiss her tender neck. Her lips with that taunting smirk. Maker. What had he gotten himself into? What was happening to him? The mages in Ferelden had all but damaged his way of looking at the vile creatures, but as if through magic, Hawke had somehow restored it. He wanted to hate her, but couldn’t. He wanted to strike her down, crumble her empire, make her beg for mercy. He would wield the brand on her, make her a drooling slave to his will.

Not that he would ever actually do it; it was a boyish fantasy that would never come true. She hated Templars with the same burning passion he hated mages. She would never let him inside her den again, and that made him sadder than he thought he would be. He wondered if maybe she would send for him, finish what they had started. He found he wanted that more than killing her. He wanted her fingers, her warmth, her leadership, and finally, to be joined with her. The thought was enticing. So much so in fact, that Cullen discovered he was hard again, his trousers tenting up from his bulge, and he sighed at his bodily reaction to his thoughts. That desperate, are you? her purring taunt echoed in his mind.

He remembered how he wanted to push her down onto the bed and enter her, in one swift motion until she screamed. Pierce her with his blade and his body. Hold his dagger against her throat as he took her, make her beg for mercy. His hand slowly travelled under his sheets and he grasped himself firmly while shutting his eyes and thinking about Hawke. He groaned as he worked his hand up and down his shaft, only letting out small sounds of pleasure while holding the image of naked Hawke fresh before his eyes. Her firm breasts, her full lips, her swaying hips, her perfectly round ass, slowly moving limbs, eyelids fluttering and voice teeming with power. He choked down a grunt, finished himself off, feeling both satisfied and disturbed by his actions. Embarrassed, he wiped himself clean. The only comfort he took with him was that nobody would ever find out.

Chapter Text

As he was allowed back on duty the following week, he had business once again in Darktown. There were sightings of weird flashing lights inside a hut three nights in a row and he was tasked with investigating the area along with Ser Emmer and Ser Waltina. He sported a brand-new armour set, this time with a rune imbedded in the chest, preventing him from falling under spells as easily. He doubted it would make much difference if he faced the powerful Spider again, but he was at least protected from weaker mages.

They passed the site of Hawke’s den, again guarded by the carta dwarves. He gave them a slight nod, but they showed no sign of recognizing him. They were wearing those face cloths so it could be that they were two completely different dwarves. The makeshift hut at the end of the street was dark and quiet now, the curtains closed and the door locked tightly with a thick padlock and chain. He cleared his throat and ordered his two subordinates to draw swords, and he pounded hard on the door.

There was no answer. Not even a shift inside. Cullen gazed into one of the windows.

“Templar business, let us in!” he said, firmly but not too loudly, since they were in Darktown and had no friends down here. Except for maybe Hawke. He looked inside through the boards of the door and caught a scent of Lyrium and blood. His heart raced. The addiction flushed his brain from sane thoughts, and powered by the potion he’d taken earlier, he kicked the door open, making the padlock fly into a crack in the street and startle the nearby community. Even Emmer and Waltina gasped as the chain slid out of its holes and clanked heavily onto the floor into a pile resembling a metal serpent.

“What are you doing, Knight-Captain?” Ser Emmer exhaled.

“Something is, or was, going on in there,” he grunted back and stepped inside, quickly followed by his younger knights. The smell was more potent inside the hut, and splatters of blood covered one of the walls and a stone table with a hole in it. Sacrificial altar?

On the facing wall, there were empty bottles of Lyrium, droplets of the blue liquid barely visible in the lights of the street outside. He sniffed one bottle and nodded, pulling his own face away from the bottle quickly as to not inhale too much of it. The other bottles had a more ominous, red content. Some were not even opened. The red liquid gleamed in the lights from the outside lanterns.

“Confiscate the lot,” he commanded. Then he lowered his voice. “This is evidence of a blood-mage here. Seal off the area as well and fetch more Templars.”

Ser Emmer and Waltina gathered all the bottles; there were at least fifty of them, and left the hut as quickly as possible. Cullen stared at the ceiling. At first, he wondered if they had some sort of hidden cubbyhole up there or underneath the floorboards. There weren’t enough furniture to hide a secret door in the walls. On second thought, he realized the door had been padlocked, as in locked from the outside. Meaning, whoever had been here and caused the bloodstains and flashing blue lights couldn’t still be in the hut. He followed Emmer and Waltina outside and walked around the hut to the back. It was detached from the firm stone walls, unlike most houses in Darktown, and behind it there was a metal manhole, poorly concealed. Waltina had not yet returned from the Gallows on her mission to bring more Templars, but Cullen didn’t want to wait now that he had a lead.

“Allow me to investigate, Ser,” said Emmer and saluted. “You won’t fit down there.”

Cullen nodded. “Be careful. We don’t know what kind of defences they have in place. Come back instantly if you feel something’s not right.”

“Ser!” said Emmer and lifted the round metal plate, revealing a ladder down to complete darkness. The hole was barely big enough to fit a grown human. With the Templar armour, it would not work. Emmer took off her broader armour pieces so that she would fit better and clambered down the ladder, leaving Cullen alone. He stared at the abyss with terror, as he heard the female Templar breathe heavily and loudly at first, but as she climbed deeper, her sounds faded into nothing. He couldn’t help but feel like he should follow her, but she was right. The manhole wouldn’t fit him, he would also have to leave his armour behind. They didn't know if they could even bring their armour with them. And they couldn't be two unarmoured Templars down there, who knew what perils they would face?

Cullen waited for a while, and began to worry. 

“Emmer?” He stared into the darkness and waited for a response, but none came.

A strange sensation hit the back of his neck, as if he was being watched. He turned around and saw two carta dwarves approaching him. Recognizing his first instinct that they were Hawke’s previous door guards, he put a hand on the pommel of his sword and prepared to fight them.

“The Spider want ya,” said one of them with his broad accent. The other nodded profusely.

 “I have business here first,” said Cullen sternly and nodded towards the manhole. “She can wait.”

The dwarves chuckled at each other. “The Spider could wait? Don think so. Ya bett’r come now or she’ll have our ‘eads.”

“Tell your Spider that one of my best Templars were just eaten by that hole and I wouldn’t abandon her to that fate even if Kirkwall was crumbling around me,” said Cullen and pointed at the manhole.

The dwarves shot glances at each other after eyeing the hidden manhole.  The dwarf that hadn’t spoken before took to word and Cullen was surprised to learn he spoke well, eloquently even.

“I fear I must inform you of an incident from the previous week,” he said, voice silky smooth but still deep and profound. “Hawke did not want you to know about it.”

“What’re ya doin?” said the other dwarf, poking him in the side. “She’ll pull out m’guts through my ...!”

“Dismissed,” interrupted the eloquent dwarf and his friend scurried off, confused and scared. The remaining dwarf removed his facecloth. It was master Tethras, Hawke’s closest friend and second in command. “Maker knows I would follow Hawke to the deepest darkest part of the Fade and back, but this thing is far beyond dangerous, even for her.”

“Do you know something about this, master Tethras?”

“As you might have suspected, that house there is a front for a mage underground-thing,” said Varric and leaned onto some railings.

Cullen was surprised to see Varric without his crossbow, and only a pair of daggers strapped to his hips. Surely that would be a crime in and of itself. But he knew of what Varric spoke, there had been a strong rumour of a resistance helping mages out of the Gallows. But it wasnt pupblically known. Such knowledge would prove fatal to more than just the mages. Therefore Cullen could neither confirm nor deny Varric's claim. He let out a simple: "I'm afraid I can’t comment on that.” to put Varric's mind off it.

“Did you really send a Templar down there?” Varric said, suddenly suspiciously worried. When Cullen confirmed, Varric sighed. “Aw, shit. Hawke’s in way over her head about this, and she doesn’t even see it. She’s been blinded by something far more dangerous than blood-magic.”

Cullen shuddered. “And what would that be?”

Varric muttered “Love.”

Varric stuck his daggers into the floor of the hut and twisted. It appeared as if his daggers weren’t daggers at all, but rather two very long keys. They opened a very elegantly concealed trapdoor, under which there was an armada of weapons; mages’ staffs, daggers, longbows, swords, shields and last but not least, Varric’s beloved crossbow. He took it out and hung it on his back.

“What are you doing?” said Cullen calmly, as to hide his own insecurity. “You’re not going down there.”

“Oh, I’m not going down there,” said Varric and locked the trapdoor again, strapping the dagger keys to his hips once more. “We’re going down there to save your Templar.”

Chapter Text

Emmer halted at every sound she heard. There was no light in the tunnel, except for a yellow one at the end. She followed it, blindly stumbling with one hand stretched out in front of her and a sword in the other, hanging slightly to the side. Her heart raced and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so afraid in her life. Nevertheless, with nothing else to do and to pass the time, she reflected over her life up until this moment as if she was on her deathbed. Which wasn’t entirely implausible, given the circumstances.

She bore no fond memories of her life before the Chantry, since her parents practically sold her when she was only six years of age. The siblings she’d had from birth were unknown to her now, and her parents had either died or moved away. She found a new family with the other children and priests in the Ostwick Chantry. Early on, she was pegged for priesthood and was one of the revered mother’s favourites, a bright-haired girl with shining brown eyes. She could recite the Chant flawlessly and as an eleven-year-old held chants and prayers at the orphanage. But when she more or less on purpose knocked an older boy to the ground with a stick for groping her, the Templars instantly recruited the then-twelve year old Emmer. They were in dire need of devout, pious Templars who remembered what the Order had stood for and Emmer fit the role perfectly. Some of her brothers and sisters within the Templars jokingly called her “the Knight-Priest”. After her eighteenth birthday, she’d moved to Kirkwall since they needed the numbers. There, she’d been shocked to find out how mages were treated, and what the Templars were like. But she learned quickly to keep her head down and follow orders.

Emmer stumbled over some fallen boards and stayed her fast fall with her outstretched arm. In her sudden panic, the hand gripping the sword opened and the weapon clanked to the ground to disappear in the dark.

“Maker have mercy,” she whimpered as she got to her feet after aimlessly searching about for her sword. She was armed only with a small knife now, and missed most of her armour. She considered going back up when she heard distant shouting from the tunnel’s entrance, but she felt she needed to press forward. She didn’t want to let Knight-Captain Cullen down after all he’d done for her.

Shortly after Emmer’s arrival in Kirkwall, she was put in charge of guarding the halls of the mages’ sleeping chambers, along with five other young recruits. She’d had no sleep nor supper. Leaned against the wall, her eyes had fluttered open and shut intermittently, and she had been freezing. One of her fellows, Ser Prawley, had told her he didn’t mean to show up for duty, even as Emmer warned him of the consequences. He’d told her the mages couldn’t escape even if nobody was guarding them, since the doors were always locked during the night. Emmer had endured several hours when her sleep-like state advised her to go look for Ser Prawley so she could get some rest. She went to find him but lost her way in the long tunnels and stairs of the Gallows, and instead, she had bumped into Cullen.

“Leaving your post, recruit?” he’d barked. He was one of the most formidable Templars she had the pleasure of knowing, but back then, he’d been as terrifying as the Void.

Emmer remembered shaking and saluting. “No, ser, I was looking for another recruit who never showed up for duty.”

“What is their name?”  had Cullen said.

“Ser Prawley, Knight-Captain,” had Emmer stuttered. “I’m sorry, I’ll…”

“Get some rest.” Cullen had put one hand on her shoulder. “And some food. You look about ready to drop. I’ll find Prawley and find someone to replace you at your post. We need our Templars ready and healthy.”

“Yes, ser, thank you, ser!” had Emmer said and saluted.

Emmer remembered that moment fondly. She would do anything for Cullen, since he always looked after his own. Even as she was walking into something that made her surer it was a trap with every step, she would do it all over again for him.

As the tunnel’s end came closer, Emmer could hear shouting, cheering, and spells being cast. She saw flashes of lights and smelled Lyrium and blood, same as in the old cabin. She stopped while her hand dove straight down to her hip where her sword usually was.

Armed and armoured with nothing but her courage, she pressed forward until she reached a large room with high ceiling and several doorframes leading onward. She was on a ledge with a stair leading down into the room. In the middle of the room were a group of mages, surrounding to combatants and cheering them on. One of the fighters were a tall, slender female with dark hair, and the other was a bearded younger man with a crooked wooden staff. The woman wielded a long, metal staff adorned with rubies and the tip was sharp like a sword had been attached to it. They fought with spells, but also had their staffs frequently clash together, causing them both to flare in blue light. Emmer couldn’t take her eyes off the mesmerizing fight, it really was the beauty of magic where it was not much more than a spectacle. This seemed to be in great seriousness though, and Emmer thought about intervening.

“Surrender!” the woman shouted and shoved her staff’s blunt end into the stomach of the bearded man. The staff flared with blue sparks and hissed angrily.

He grunted and fell to the street, dropping his staff and trying to catch his breath. He held up his hands in defeat.

“You win, I yield!” he whimpered.

The woman grunted while kicking his staff away, and held the pointy end of her own staff at his throat.

“Enough!” said a deep voice and Emmer widened her eyes. It was a male mage, blond of hair with glowing, blue eyes. In fact, his whole skin glowed as if he housed a flame inside. “Let’s not have our emotions dictate our sane minds.”

The two fighters helped each other catch their breaths. The woman picked up the other one’s staff and pounded him in the back.

It was a group of maybe ten mages and three Templars, including the commanding mage, and the Templars wore helmets so she couldn’t see their faces. It was a mix of men and women but the women were considerably younger than their fellows. Emmer recognized a few of them as the missing mages that had broken out of the Circle a  week ago, the ones that Cullen had consulted the Spider about. They were hiding down here. The other mages must be previous escapees and the Templars were either bewitched or traitors to the Order. Emmer realized her staring must have gone on for too long, when suddenly, all eyes turned to face her and the master mage pointed his staff at her.

“Get her.”

~

Varric shuffled quickly down the long hall, faster than you’d expect from a dwarf. Cullen was barely able to keep up. Then again, he had dropped his armour piece by piece down the ladder and re-dressed himself after they reached the bottom. Varric seemed strangely agitated, and wanted to press on but Cullen couldn’t understand why. Varric had claimed Hawke had been blinded by love and that Emmer was in trouble. As he took one step after the other, he wondered whose love it was that had blinded Hawke, and why it was more dangerous than blood-magic.

After a good long while, they reached the end of the tunnel. It ended at a ledge and opened up to a large room with a high ceiling and a staircase leading down to the brown mud floor. He instantly laid eyes on the Spider Queen herself, standing over the lifeless body of Ser Emmer. The Spider held onto a metal staff and lifted it as Cullen and Varric approached.

“Emmer!” he cried out and forgot about the danger they were in. He ran up to the body and rolled it over. Emmer stared blankly into the ceiling. There were no marks on her.

“Aw, shit,” said Varric. “Too late.”

Cullen checked her pulse just to be sure she wasn’t just paralyzed, but her heart had stopped and she didn’t breathe. He clenched his jaw in anger but tried to contain it as he looked up at The Spider Queen.

“You’re behind this,” he growled.

Varric said nothing. He quietly looked at Hawke.

She looked as serious as ever, not the faintest trace of a smirk on her this time. When she spoke, it was a low voice as if they were being followed. “I just arrived here. You, on the other hand, sent her down that path to certain death.”

Cullen arose to face her. Out of her den she seemed smaller. He towered over her, looked down at her fiercely glowing purple eyes, and tightly closed mouth.

“Then who was it?” he said.

Hawke and Varric exchanged glances, whereupon Hawke shook her head.

“Could be that Templar I told you about,” she said, self-assuredly.

Cullen scoffed. “Templars kill with swords. Emmer is seemingly unharmed.”

“Haven’t you heard people can be frightened to death?” Varric said quickly.

There was a tension in the room Cullen just couldn’t explain. He wanted to believe her, to see her side. Another side effect of her spell, perhaps? But he couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something and it was up to him to figure it out.

“So we need to move her”, said Varric and nodded towards Emmer. “And we can’t carry her up the same way we came.”

Hawke waved her staff and made Emmer’s body float in the air. “We’ll close up the tunnel, now that the Templars  knows it’s here. To prevent more break-outs.”

Cullen was stunned. “I can’t  let this place exist without being investigated!”

 The Spider sighed, put on her best seductive smile and stared straight into Cullen’s soul. “You do as I say now, little Captain, or I’ll bonk you on the head and drag you along. It was you who wanted a cooperation, wasn’t it? We will save more lives if you forget this place even exists. Also, you are as much at fault here as I. What will Meredith say when she finds out you let another Templar die? I’ll make sure evidence pointing at you reaches her, rest assured.”

Cullen had never been blackmailed like this before. “What will I say about Emmer? Waltina knows she went down here.”

“I’ll write a full report for you to hand over to Meredith.” Hawke winked. She waved her staff again and the body of Emmer floated after her as she went for the tunnel. “Are you two coming?”

Varric also sighed and went after her. Cullen looked around the room for more entrances, but couldn’t find any. He then marched after Varric. The vision of the lifeless, floating Emmer would forever haunt his dreams. She hovered after Hawke, about three feet up in the air but never tapped onto the walls. After they arrived at the hut, which was still empty since Waltina hadn’t returned yet, they laid Emmer on the blood-soaked alter. Hawke went into the tunnel again and sealed it with magic, making the very earth move and close up the manhole with a thick layer of dirt and sand.

Chapter Text

Lo! And ho the spider queen!
Most vicious dame you ever seen
Sees all ‘round town, through bricks and steel
And eats you for an evening meal

Sing along and sing it loud
So she may pass us by
For if we show
We do not owe
Neither hand nor eye!
She may pass us by

Ho! Beware the dreaded spider
The boldest lovers dare not ride ‘er
Her fingers’re long and reaches all
Makes you fly to cause your fall

Sing along and sing it loud
So she may pass us by
For if we show
We do not owe
Neither hand nor eye!
She may pass us by

Lo! See how the spider crawl
For own amusement cause a brawl
In Darktown stretch her dreadful net
Suffer no wound nor mindless threat

Sing along and sing it loud
So she may pass us by
For if we show
We do not owe
Neither hand nor eye!
She may pass us by
She may pass us by!

Cullen rolled his eyes as the bards sang their drunken song. The patrons of the Hanged Man joined in. He was under cover, studying the poor folk, spying on them from his dark corner. He tried to blend in as best he could, but had apparently made too much of an effort, since nobody came to talk to him. The beer he’d ordered had lasted only so long and now he sipped at an empty cup. Beer had never been his favourite, but the thin liquid they called wine down here was not much more than water with a few drops of real wine in it, most likely to keep it cheap. At least the beer had texture and tasted of something. The one cup had also been enough, since Cullen’s head was spinning already. He wasn’t here to report on foods and drinks however, so he let that little piece of information slide.

As the bards and patrons of the Hanged Man finished the song and knocked their cups together, Cullen wondered how they dared to even mention her moniker, when he feared just thinking about her. The incident in the tunnel had left him shook. He’d waited outside the hut for his fellow Templars to arrive, just as the Spider had finished off her report and sent it along with a messenger. The report was sealed and for Meredith’s eyes only, but it implicated a Templar as the culprit. He spun the cup around between his hands, watched as it dropped to its side, rolled across the table and onto the floor. It felt like a pure defeat, like he shouldn’t even look into it anymore. He wanted to move on and take on another case, one not involving the Spider. But she seemed to be everywhere, with a claw in each cauldron across Kirkwall. It amazed him that she knew to be there when Emmer had died.

Emmer. He mentally sighed. She had been so innocent, the last one who should have died for this. He remembered her fondly, had wanted to promote her to Lieutenant after this. He had given his condolences to her closest friends among the Order, had wanted to organize a march in her honour, but Meredith had declared it that as favouritism and decided that they couldn’t possibly dedicate so many resources to one single Templar. (“Otherwise, we would march all day every day”). She did permit him to donate a hefty sum to the orphanage where Emmer had grown up, citing the importance of paying respects to humble beginnings, surely meaning to compliment Cullen’s own origin as well. Not all Templars are spares or third children, nor bastards of noble families, after all.

Cullen bent down to pick up his cup, and when he stood again, he was face to face with Varric Tethras. Cullen scoffed and put the cup back onto the table. The dwarf seemed equally displeased with seeing Cullen as his hand shot straight for his crossbow.

“Didn’t realize it was Templar’s choice,” said Varric.

Cullen grunted. “I was leaving.”

“Good,” said Varric, turning away heedless of the surge of rage that shot through him.

“Dwarf! Come back here!” he found himself bellowing before Varric could disappear.

He stopped just below the stairs and everyone’s attention left the bards in favour of the incident unfolding before their eyes.

“How can you follow her?” he demanded.

A few people quickly hushed him, while others pretended not to hear. Even more people went back to their drinks and only a handful continued as curious onlookers .

“Leave it”, Varric brushed him off and once again turned to walk away, Cullen persisted.

“You know something! Sh-she can’t have died in vain!” His voice broke at the mentioning of Emmer, even if it wasn’t actually by name.

“This is too much for any of us.” Varric sighed. “It’s not her fault.”

It was as if he was talking to himself more than to Cullen. But it didn’t make him any less angry.

“She should be exterminated along with all other vermin in this city,” Cullen hissed. “Even if it isn’t her fault, she’s making this all possible with her secrecy. Go tell her that.”

Varric was almost speechless, but muttered under his breath: “I’m not allowed in tonight.”

Cullen scoffed. “I thought you were her confidante. Her best friend.”

“I used to think so, too,” said Varric bitterly. “At a guess, I would say you are more likely to get in than I at this point. We had a disagreement.”

Cullen didn’t care to ask what had happened, but he figured it must have something to do with the death of Emmer. After all, Varric had tried to save her and been distraught by their failing. But he was intrigued by the idea that maybe he could reason with Hawke in a way her usual company could not.

And so, Cullen only huffed shaking his head at Varric, who glumly clambered up the stairs to his usual suite. He decided, against all sense, to take the dwarf’s advice and go see the Spider. If nothing else he wanted to confront her about Emmer and tell her he never intended to work with her again.

Outside of the Hanged Man, a couple was busily wrapped around each other, right next to a man pissing on the wall. Neither paid him much attention; Cullen had been increasingly amazed at the reaction, or lack of one, he’d gotten while out of his armour ever since the Spider had forced him to walk through town without it. It was rather refreshing, albeit dangerous to walk around town unprotected, but he figured he needed less protection as a civilian than as a Templar. The armour and shield seemed to trigger something in Kirkwallers, and even though it was one of the major Templar centres, it seemed people here hated them more than anywhere else he’d been.

Once he’d arrived in Darktown, Cullen made his way towards the Spider’s den. The lanterns weren’t lit, , and the door was unguarded, odd. He quickly looked around for carta or Coterie, but found no trace of neither of them. After pondering the very foolish notion that Hawke wasn’t even in there, he knocked a couple of times at the door, only to find it swinging inwards. Following his gut, if not common sense, he proceeded inside, and saw the ominous door once again. He halted for a bit, then pressed on, and put his ear to the door. There was no sound. Not even a shift inside. He bit his lower lip and regretted coming here, before his Templar training overtook him. He was not one for abandoning a mission, even a private one. He heard arguing inside, both from Hawke and from another person, a man. Deciding that that surprise would only benefit him, he kicked in the door only to find he definitely should have knocked.

Hawke was inside, dressed in evening robes, standing directly in front of a blond man with a ponytail, a staff tied to his back . They seemed to have argued, since they both were red-faced and staring angrily at each other. The man spoke with a Ferelden accent and though it took him a moment he eventually recognised the man. He’d been prone to escape from the Tower, so much so in fact that they’d locked him in isolation more than once. Last he’d heard of this mage, he’d been on the run and had possibly joined the Grey Wardens. What was his name again?

“It is madness. It can only end in ruin.”

The blond man all but threw himself at Hawke, silencing whatever retort she might have had with a fierce and desperate kiss. Hawke reciprocated, and soon they were soon entwined, their mouths devouring each other, hands urgently ripping at whatever fabric they found. Hawke’s legs were wrapped around the mage and his hips twitched eagerly at her. Cullen stopped at the door, not able to look away. At first ashamed to be witness of such a private moment, but then, as he remembered Emmer, he slammed the door shut behind him, making no effort to be silent any more.

The pair parted quickly, hair ruffled and faces still red. Hawke wiped her face with her sleeve, while the male mage pulled his staff.

“Templar! Get behind me!” he shouted.

“Wait!” said Hawke and Cullen in unison.

Cullen was unarmed but he could still silence mages about to do magic. He used his Lyrium gifts to drain mana from the mage, but not from Hawke, who put up a mana shield so fast he didn’t even have time to blink. The man fell to his knees and dropped his staff.

“What are you doing here?” hissed Hawke.

Cullen shook his head at her. “I just wanted to tell you that you can’t rely on my support any more. Go about your business but keep Templars out of it.”

The male mage snorted with laughter as he got to his feet again.

“Get out, Anders,” she said softly. “I’ll send for you.”

“If your door is open tonight, I will come to you,” he replied, before kissing her again. He brushed past Cullen and gave him a venomous look before disappearing into Darktown’s labyrinths.

Cullen huffed. “Are you carrying on with everyone? Even Wardens?”

Hawke breathed in and out slowly as if to calm herself. Beside some ruffled curls, she looked completely poised again. She shot him a smile, which he didn’t reciprocate, and sat down on her bed.

“You said you want out of our arrangement?” said Hawke. “I’ll stop sending you intel and you are no longer welcome in my quarters, if that’s what you mean.”

“Fine by me,” said Cullen angrily. He turned to leave.

“One moment,” said Hawke hastily retrieving an entire armour set from under the stairs leading up to the locked gate.

Cullen instantly recognized it as his own, the one she’d deprived him of when they first met.

“A parting gift,” she said warmly.

Chapter Text

The sun rose over a gloomy, rainy Kirkwall for the last time this week. Cullen had just gotten back from morning service, eager to put last night behind him and looking forward to a new day that he hoped would NOT involve the Spider Queen in any way.
As he was getting ready, strapping on his armour and the sword that had been so graciously returned by the Spider, there was a harsh knock on his door.

“Yes?”

The door squeaked open and a red-faced Ser Waltina greeted him. She had certainly not been herself since Emmer’s death, and her dip in productivity had reduced her to a simple messenger within the Gallows. Emmer’s death had hit them all hard since she’d been so young and skilled but Waltina had taken it particularly hard. She hadn’t shown any sign of wanting to take to the streets again. Where once she’d been a devout Andrastian, certain of her duties and sure of herself, she now avoided contact with the mages, as if she was afraid of them. She’d stopped seeking action and investigation and instead volunteered for easier tasks such as guarding the Gallows courtyard, and switching shifts with her fellow Templars to avoid being out at night. Her dour demeanour had made the mages pity her, certainly they no longer feared she might hurt them. Some of them even teased her and she responded with silence. Cullen knew the two young Templar ladies had hit it off as they were recruited right around the same time, and shared the love of singing the Chant to each other when on duty. But Waltina sang no more. It made Cullen heartbroken to see such cracks in other Templars’ resolve. He'd hate to lose her especially since she was also from Ferelden and the closest thing to a little sister he’d had in years. In their happier days, they had bonded over tales from Ferelden and the politics there. They had both agreed that the young King Alistair would pull Ferelden forward to a new golden era.

“Knight-Captain,” said Waltina softly and saluted. “We received a message after sermon, your presence is needed.”
She handed him a scroll with the seal of Knight-Commander Meredith stamped on it.

“Thank you, ser Waltina,” Cullen said taking the scroll. Before Waltina had time to turn and leave, Cullen took her hand. “Are you alright?”

Waltina nodded swiftly. “Yes, sir… or I will be. Soon.”

“She was my friend too.” Cullen put a hand on her shoulder. “But we need to carry on with our duty. It’s the only way we’ll honour her.”

Waltina’s eyes watered up and she quickly excused herself, Cullen allowed it knowing she needed to let her emotions out in private. He rolled out the ominous piece of paper and almost gasped out out loud.

Knight-Captain Cullen, we have another mass break-out. Five mages and two Templars were missing at headcount this morning. Their rooms were neatly cleaned and lacked any personal affects. This, to my mind, proves both our missing Templars and the mages planned it, a harsh reality we now have to face. I shall do my best at keeping this information within the Order but I have to inform Vicount Dumar of the potential danger. Please, come see me at your earliest convenience before returning to your other duties.

Cullen ripped the letter into little pieces and spread it in his fireplace. How could another break-out be possible with when Hawke had sealed the passageway? There had to be more ways out of that tunnel, and he’d be damned if she didn’t know every single one. He cursed his own gullibility and realized that of course she would only seal the tunnel he knew about, even after he questioned her about the other ones he actually saw. The infuriating grin of the Spider made his anger boil over and he hurled his shield onto the stone floor with a clatter so loud that his window vibrated, and in the next second a guard threw open the door.

“Knight-Captain, what happened?” he hurriedly asked picking up Cullen’s shield. It had a dent where it had landed and the floor had even cracked a bit. Both a perk and a downside to his strength.

Cullen grumbled and accepted back his shield. “I dropped it. Nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, ser”, the poor guard said a leaving the room with a confused expression.

Cullen hurriedly reclaimed himself and left his quarters to meet Meredith. He dreaded every next step and prayed that she would not send him to the Spider again. He wanted nothing more to do with her, but it seemed she was behind the breakout. There was no other person in the city who knew as much as she did. He very much doubted her words that there were no more tunnels that she knew about.

As he stopped before her door, Meredith came marching down the hallway with her assistant Elsa in tow. The tranquil mage stared at Cullen silently, then cocked her head like a curious canine.

Cullen saluted. “Good morning, Knight-Commander.”

“Yes, yes”, scoffed Meredith and waved her hand over her shoulder at Elsa. “Leave us.”

The tranquil bowed and left her superiors while Cullen opened Meredith’s door for her. She sighed and sat down behind her desk as always.

“You wanted to discuss the situation with me, ser?” Cullen said, closing the door and standing to attention.

“What can we do?” she muttered, more to herself than to Cullen. “It seems that the vice holding the mages has been greased, so they just slip through.”

Cullen cleared his throat. “We could increase recruitment? Hold a fundraising? Get the nobles involved in our cause?”

Meredith huffed. “What would that accomplish? The Viscount is all too busy keeping them off the heathens squatting in the harbour, and a lot more than a few of them have relatives in the Circle. They are almost as dismissive of us as the plebs in Lowtown.”
She fell quiet and Cullen didn’t really know or care to answer her. Instead, he waited for her to continue. She wrote something down in a journal on her desk, muttering and closing the pages after she was done.

Then she stood up. “Investigate the missing mages and Templars, get their names, families, and assemble a team to look for them. If you know anything of value, pursue it. I will interrogate our fellow Templars and get Orsino to talk to the mages. We shall double down on punishments for discussing outside-of-Circle matters.”

Cullen nodded and saluted, but then Meredith stopped him. “Ser Frend is one of the missing Templars.”

“Really?” said Cullen. He was astonished to hear that. Ser Frend was a senior Templar, also from Ferelden, and had been here longer than even Meredith.

“Yes.” Meredith said. She eyed him harshly. With Meredith, it was hard to imagine what she was thinking if she didn't speak. One of her qualities were speaking her mind, no more or less. Then she said:

"I'll consider your suggestion about the fundraising. Dismissed.”

She went back to her papers. 

Cullen exited her room and turned to leave the Gallows. He knew exactly who he should talk to about this, but he would do absolutely everything else before running back to her.

First he went to the roster, to collect the names of the missing mages and Templars it was there , bright as day, Ser Frend’s name. It gave him a strange sensation in his stomach, like he needed to throw up. He recalled how he and Samson had been taught by the older Templar when they had been new to Kirkwall. Ser Frend would never leave the Order voluntarily. The other missing Templar was one he couldn’t remember the face of, Ser Cauchemar from Orlais. He assumed that it was one of the younger ones he hadn’t personally trained. The names of the mages spanned from poor to noble with no real significance at first glance. But as he inspected the names more closely, he realized they were all women under the age of twenty-five.

One of the first Templars to go missing was Ser Prawley as he recalled, a young man with a rebellious mind who’d ditched his duty and made Ser Emmer miserable on one of their first guard-duty nights together. No real loss to the Order, surely. Though every loss was a waste, Cullen was sure Ser Prawley had left on his own accord due to a lack of inspiration and perhaps he was a bit disillusioned. He tried not to think about that any more, Meredith had closed his case long ago.

Cullen collected the names on a separate scroll and went by the barracks, where the younger Templar recruits and initiates stayed while off-duty. He did have the authority to assemble a team, per Meredith’s instructions, and their downtime could be cut short if there was need. He ordered a team of four Templars to meet him by the Gallows harbour giving them time to collect their things and him time to o come up with some sort of plan. He would visit the homes of the missing mages first, to see if they had gone home or otherwise contacted their families. He figured he couldn’t go to or write to the missing Templars’ families; Ser Cauchemar’s family still lived in Orlais, so they wouldn’t know he’d gone missing yet, and Ser Frend was old and without any living blood-relatives nearby. They would need to be looked for in the old-fashioned way, with a lantern in the dark.

After his team of four arrived, he briefed them on the situation and gave out assignments. They would work in teams of two looking for the mages, and Cullen would look for the missing Templars. They split up and promised to compile their knowledge later that day before evening prayers.

Even though it annoyed the crap out of him, Cullen returned to the secret hut in Darktown, the front for the mage underground. It was dark, barred and all cleaned up after his previous investigation, but he simply couldn’t shake the feeling it was still being used. Hawke had sealed the tunnel leading out from under it, but the great hall at the end of the tunnel had him puzzled. There would surely be another way in there.
As Cullen stood there, contemplating searching the sewers around the hut, someone opened the door and stepped outside. Cullen looked up and saw a young beggar boy, holding out his hands. The boy was pale, his lips cracked and dry from malnourishment, skinny as a skeleton.

“Here you go, boy,” said Cullen offering the child some bread and two silver coins.

The kid made short work of the piece of bread and quickly stuffed the coins inside his shoe. “Bless you, mister Templar, sir.”

Cullen looked at the boy and then the hut. “Do you know anything about this hut, lad?”

The poor boy’s eyes looked like they might pop out of his scull when he shook his head. “No ser, I only used it for shelter, ser, I swear. Don’t tell her!”

“I won’t tell her,” vowed Cullen. “Have you seen anyone coming out from that trapdoor at the back?”

The boy wrung his hands together and looked around.

Cullen went down on one knee and put a hand on the boy’s scrawny shoulder. “It’s alright, you can tell me,” he said softly. “In exchange, you’ll get more coin and bread. I’ll even send a chantry sister to come get you, would you like that?”

The boy stuttered. “A-aye, ser. I saw a woman open the trapdoor and do something. She didn’t see me but I looked through the cracks. There was a great blue light and then she disappeared through the trapdoor.”

Cullen had what he needed. The woman re-opening the tunnel must have been the Spider Queen, even though the poor boy hadn’t recognized her.

“Right,” said Cullen and stood up again. He offered his hand to the child. “Come with me. I’ll get you somewhere safe.”

The boy hesitated, but the moment he decided to take Cullen’s hand, someone from down the hallway called out. “Cricket! Don’t!”

It was young fair-haired teenager, well on his way of becoming a man with a raspy voice and fuzz all over his cheeks and chin. He ran up to them and pulled the smaller child away from Cullen.

“We don’t want nothing to do with Templars!” he huffed at Cullen and dragged the child down the hall. The boy called Cricket looked over his shoulder, and then disappeared in the tunnels of Darktown.

Cullen was just about to keep investigating the hut and adjacent tunnel, when he suddenly was blinded by a black bag over his head. He reacted quickly by drawing his sword, but it was knocked out of his hand and he tripped over something, most likely someone else’s leg. His hands were quickly tied together and he fell to the ground, hitting his head on the dusty street. He heard laughter and distant, muffled talk and he tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. The bag wasn’t the only thing muddling his vision. He felt dizzy and saw white dots and grey colours taking over his field of vision, while feeling cold and numb, and he lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

When Cullen came to, he still wasn’t able to see anything due to the bag, but he felt hard, cold stone under him, a chill all over his body as if he’d been stripped naked, except for his smallclothes. He also felt rope around each of his wrists, tied to something on either side of him. He tried to wiggle out of them, but they were tied too tight. The bag smelt of blood and sweat and someone else’s body odour, perhaps even the faint hint of a perfume.

Then Cullen heard the clinking of chains and felt someone walk around him. Next thing he knew, he was pulled up to a standing position, his arms raised a little over his head. His whole body ached and he wondered how long he’d been passed out. The chains rattled when he moved his head around, his arms following in the movement.

“Who’s there?” he called out. “Where am I?”

Then the bag was roughly pulled off his head and he stood, or hung, face to face with Hawke. The sight both shocked and annoyed him and suddenly instead of feeling scared or exposed, he felt like she was playing one of her tricks on him. She looked as poised as ever, dressed in a thin, black, knee-length dress and a black silken robe with a red web pattern embroidered on. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders and chest. Her bright eyes twinkled at him and her lips were pursed in a smug grin.

“Kind of you to come hang out,” she sneered.

“Very funny,” snorted Cullen. “Let me down.”

They were back in her lair, the large bed in the corner was concealed by darkness but he knew it was there. The stairs to the upper levels were still locked and there was no light other than a red lantern on her desk. It cast a flickering, frightening light all over the room and reflected in her eyes. She looked more like a demon this time than any other time they’d seen each other. The shadows danced around the room as if the objects they were imitating moved around. Even so, he felt no fear as he was confident she wouldn’t actually harm him.

“Can’t do that.” Hawke strode around him, keeping one finger on his exposed skin as she paced around him. Her voice was slow, steady, and she pronounced every syllable with precision, as if she didn’t want him to miss a single beat. “You need to stop investigating the disappearances. You need to stop coming down here. People will think I keep Templars as friends. Can’t have that.”

Cullen heard a noise coming from further in. There was a slight shift on the bed and he heard someone inhale sharply, but he couldn’t see anyone there.

Cullen wrung his restrained wrists in an attempt to get free, but it was futile. “I thought we had an agreement. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. We’ve already been through this. Get me down. I won’t come back here. I’ll find the mages myself.”

There was a sharp inhale once more from the bed, Hawke looked over her shoulder and smirked.

“Not good enough,” she whispered into Cullen’s ear. “Stop investigating the missing mages and Templars. Or things will end badly for you.”

She made a motion with her right hand and the ropes hoisted Cullen further up until his toes barely touched the floor. He gasped aloud while tiptoeing around on the spot to try and remain balanced. The smell of the wine-cellar hit his head and he felt like he was going to pass out again.

Cullen groaned and began to feel desperate. But he wasn’t about to let her know that. “Get me down, or there will be consequences. I’ll have the Templars storm your lair and lock you in the Gallows.”

“Threats?” said Hawke, smirking wider. “Just like old times, huh?”

She kept pulling on the chain to hoist him up further until he hung by his wrists alone. . She looked up at him, her head in level with his stomach. It strained his arms and shoulders painfully until it felt like they were about to come off.

Cullen yelled, couldn’t help it. “Argh! Alright, you made your point! I-I won’t come back here again. Get me down, Hawke.”

The sharp exhale from further inside the room turned sharper and now there was definitely someone moving on the bed. He tried to make out some features, but he couldn’t determine if it was even human.

“Still not good enough,” sighed Hawke pulling out a knife from Maker-knows-where holding it against his throat. “Swear you will not investigate any more disappearances from the Circle ever again.”

Cullen hissed and leaned away from the knife. It still had drawn some blood and he felt like throwing up.  His damned duty and honesty held an even harsher grip on him than his current restraints and the knife she’d used was no more threatening than Meredith. He knew Hawke couldn’t permanently maim him, or else she’d have the entire Templar order on her tail. His confidence in Hawke’s better nature made him optimistic that she wouldn’t kill him, at least. He’d endured torture before, though that was of the mind, not the body. His absolute resolution made him, not immune, but impartial to that sort of tactic. The Maker would see him through.

That was why he only replied: “You know I can’t do that.”

Hawke sighed again and turned away, only to strike him in his stomach with a fist hard as a battering ram. He gasped for air and swung a little in the air before coming back down, almost like a punching bag. Still, he convinced himself that it wouldn’t get worse. Couldn’t get worse. Could it?

“Swear you’ll give up on the case.” Hawke spoke softly as if talking over afternoon tea. She picked up the knife again and held it at his stomach.

Cullen moaned and tried to tighten his muscles away from the knife, but he swung back until he felt the cold, bloodstained steel against his skin. “It’s my duty. My… aargh ... responsibility! I can’t leave alone, you know that.”

“No.” Hawke made a swift, horizontal cut across his stomach and blood immediately spilled. She held her hand underneath, but to Cullen’s surprise, didn’t soak it in. She was no blood-mage. However, from the bed came a downright pleasured moan the timbre of which revealed the mysterious stranger to be a man. Cullen’s blood trickled over the floor towards the bed where it rose to become a red, glowing mist around the strange man lying there.

“Please,” Cullen said.

Hawke didn’t respond. Instead, she briefly left him before she came back with jars and bottles hanging in the air around her. She placed them under Cullen’s dangling feet, opening each of the containers.

“Last chance,” she said and cut with the knife at his right inner thigh. “Give me your word you won’t pursue them.”

Cullen knew it was unwise to antagonize her, but he wanted to understand. “Why do you need my word for it? I could be lying.”

“Our word is all we have sometimes,” said Hawke, her eyes flickering with purple light. “If you promise to drop this, this could all stop and we will set you free. Promise to me, no more Templars down here.”

“I … can’t do that,” said Cullen, feeling faint from all the blood loss. The blood trickled down into the bottles and jars, as if guided by magic. His head hung against his right shoulder and he struggled to breathe.

Hawke sighed. “Just let me know when you’ve had enough, then.”

There was something off about her, she’d never been this cruel before. But maybe this was what she was really like, and the reason why people feared her as much as they did. Maybe he hadn’t seen her true side before. The thought scared him. She made small but precise cuts along his inner right thigh, occasionally looking up at his face to see if he would break. But Cullen couldn’t say a word, only capable of stuttering a few syllables of prayer. He tried to focus on his resolve, ever vigilant for breakdown just as it had been in the Circle of Ferelden. This physical torture was nothing compared to the ordeal he’d survived there. Under some strange assumption that still lingered in his mind that she would let him live, he begged the Maker to spare him and let him survive so he could exact revenge on Hawke when he got out of here.

It went on for longer than Cullen could afterwards recall. The cuts didn’t hurt very much, the most terrifying thing was the blood seeping out of him and into the bottles until they were all full. He went into himself, closing his eyes, going blank, almost adopting a meditative state, floating around in the Fade, as if he was dreaming. The reality was here, not in the hawk’s talons, not in the knife which cut small slits into his skin.

He came back only to find she’d stopped. His body was maimed in a square pattern, almost like a web, from feet to chest and he drew quick breaths when he saw the massive amount of blood seeping out of him. The cuts weren’t deep enough to sever his skin from his body but they had tapped into his blood vessels.

“It’s not working, keep going,” urged a voice from the bed. Cullen saw two glowing blue eyes and the voice was deep and commanding.

But Hawke threw the knife so that it stood up out of the floor. “He’s lost a lot of blood. We can’t bleed him anymore, or we’ll lose him. We need him alive.”

The voice hummed. “He hasn’t sworn to keep out of our business yet. Be done with it. We have other work to do. Use your magic to hurt him.”

Cullen felt a cold hand against his stomach near his left hip and the icy feeling kept building until it almost burned. He moaned and tried to get out of the way. He attempted to block her magic but he was drained. Hawke dug in her nails in his skin and left three scratches like those of a dangerous wild animal.

“Swear it, or it will only get worse for you,” she said harshly.

Cullen shook his head and swung a bit in his restraints. But still he met her gaze firmly and hissed. “Never. You will get what’s coming to you. Even if I should die, there are hundreds more to avenge me.”

“Killing him would send a message to the Knight-Commander to back off,” mused the deep, dark voice.

The thought of dying here so exposed and vulnerable was more of a relief than a threat. The thought of killing himself to end his pain had crossed his mind many times after the incident in the Circle. The only thing that had stopped him was that suicide was a sin in the eyes of the Maker.

But Hawke ignored the voice and stared intently back into his eyes, as if trying to read his mind. He tried to block her, but there was some force stronger than his resolve behind her glowing, purple eyes. Was she trespassing into his mind? He remembered the feeling from the Circle in Ferelden, when the blood-mages twisted his mind and tortured him with images of an apprentice he’d fancied. He felt a surge of fear and wished she wouldn’t attempt it. It was one of the most excruciating things he’d experienced, like having spiders crawling into his ears.

She smiled. “I know what will break you.”

She moved the bottles and jars away, whereupon the chains clattered and Cullen was dropped back onto the floor to all fours, into a pool of his own blood. He coughed and tried to stand up but Hawke kicked him in the small of his back so that he fell on his face while losing breath.

Cullen felt pain everythwere when he rolled over to his back, it felt like the cut in his stomach had reopened. He put an arm over it and realised the bonds on his wrists had been cut. Hawke was nowhere to be seen when Cullen looked around the room. There was complete silence weighing heavy like smoke.

“Hawke,” he called out. He was weak and woozy, but wanted nothing more than to get out of there, so he tried to sit up.

But then, Hawke appeared and used the knife to undo his smallclothes and pulled away the scrappy fabric until he was naked. She sat down on top of him, also naked, her body warm and soft, hooking her legs behind his back and locking him in place. She pressed herself closer to him and he tried to get away, but she took his hands and placed them on herself, one on her breast and one on her ass. She felt good, just like he’d imagined. She touched his face and pressed her lips onto the curve of his neck, nipping and sucking. At first he was disgusted by what she was trying to do, but then it seemed his body reacted impulsively and his weakened mind was no match for the need that coursed through him. He went all in.

Cullen touched her everywhere he’d wanted to touch her since he’d seen her for the first time, even choked her, the way he’d always wanted to for a slight second before moving on. She sighed in his ear while rocking her hips against him. She pushed him down onto the floor and rode him, taking all of him into her, rolling her hips and building her pace, his length gliding in and out of her with ferocity. He threw his head back in pleasure, almost forgetting what she’d done to him moments before, as he relished this moment of desire, a stark contrast to what he’d just endured.

“Are you going to leave them alone?” she moaned.

Cullen was close to his end. He thought about the moment where he’d shamed himself while thinking of her. Her mewing noises, her smirk, her firm, round ass, her bouncing breasts and her soft, red lips. Oh, Maker. Her lips. He bent up to kiss but she slapped him firmly, her lips were off-limits. Instead, he rolled her over and let her lie down on the cold, rough floor while he entered her, demanding and hard. She hooked her legs behind his back to ensnare him once again, like a snake, with poisonous purple eyes glowing in the dark and fangs exposed in a demonic smirk. That was when he came to his senses. Hawke wouldn’t let him do this, she didn’t take Templars in her den. And she definitely did not have fangs.

Cullen stood up quickly to the demon’s evident surprise, before she floated to her feet. The form of Hawke melted off her like ice on a hot rock until a Desire demon complete with horns, a tail and scaly skin stood before him. Strange that he should still find her quite beautiful but Cullen knew that this was no woman, so he kept his eyes vigilantly on her.  He quickly took a look around but found that they were still in Hawke’s lair, not the Fade. Which must mean that this Desire demon had possessed someone or escaped the Fade by means of blood-magic.

She leered, but did not make any more advances. “How easy it was,” she teased with an echoing voice. “Templars are my favourite toys.”

The Desire demon stood in front of him, but behind her was a blond mage with glowing blue eyes. He looked vaguely familiar but Cullen was having a hard time placing him. He felt his stomach and thigh and found that there were cuts, just not as many or deep as he thought. An illusion meant to scare him. Perhaps they had taken all the blood they needed from those first cuts. His abdomen hurt from the blow by Hawke’s fist.

“Where is Hawke?” he commanded.

“Sometimes we have to take things into our own hands,” said the deep voice belonging to the glowing blond man. “We don’t need approval from the Spider.”

“Where is she?”

Neither demon spoke as Cullen was tripped by some unseen force and fell backwards, hitting his head again, he didn’t faint but he had been paralyzed. Someone or something carried him out of the Spider’s den and placed him on the street, covering him completely with a black sheet. He felt feeble, his head hurt and he looked around trying to rid himself of the cloak. A pair of feet approached him and the familiar clicking of a crossbow reached his ears.

“Maker’s ass, what have they done now?” said Varric Tethras’ distinct voice.

Chapter Text

Cullen was moved to a different location, and while he drifted in and out of consciousness, he caught glimpses of places and people . The stairs from Darktown to Lowtown flashed before his eyes as they passed by the Lowtown bazaar towards the Hanged Man. As Varric had saved him, he assumed he was bound for Varric’s suite, but they passed the pub too. When he looked at the people carrying him, he saw a Dalish elven mage with facial tattoos and a long, wooden staff, and also a brother from the Chantry who muttered prayers the whole way through. He caught faint glimpses of another elf but couldn’t really make out the features more than a tuft of white hair and a large sword strapped to his back.

As he was set down on a low table, Cullen glimpsed the Alienage before they closed the door and hushed him.

“It’s nothing to worry about!” said the Dalish mage hurriedly, her accent betraying her origins even as she left his field of vision.

The Chantry brother knelt beside before Cullen. “You’re badly injured, Knight-Captain,” he said, his accent as strong as the mages’, only this time it was with the harsh tones of Starkhaven. “Merrill will heal you to the best of her ability and I will pray for you.”

“No…” Cullen mumbled weakly. “Take me back to the Gallows…”

“Those mages aren’t allowed to use the type of magic that will heal you properly,” the Dalish elf said as she returned, pulling out her staff and waving it around.

“I’ll make sure we weren’t followed”, said the other elf, the one with the sword, and left the room. The others hastily shut the door behind him.

“Are you sure we should do this?” said the Chantry brother worriedly. “If Meredith finds out… The Knight-Captain is one of her pawns. And also…” He lowered his voice so it was barely audible. “… If the Spider finds out…?”

“Come now, choir boy, you came all this way,” said Varric. “If Hawke finds out, good. I don’t think she was behind this in the first place. And if Meredith finds out we helped rescue her favourite subordinate? She’ll be grateful. He might even put in a good word for us, right, Curly?”

Cullen couldn’t speak, as Merrill worked her magic on his cuts and bruises. It stung for a moment but the pain weakened as he grew stronger again. There were several flashes of emerald light, as the room was lit up by her magic. He could really feel his skin being stitched back together, as one would repair a shirt or a pair of breaches that had been torn.

“He’s lost a lot of blood and he has a fever”, said Merrill putting away her staff. “But he will recover.” She turned her eyes to him, they were large, green, mesmerizing. “You eat your greens and plenty of liver, you hear? You need to build up the blood storage in your body.”

The other two left as Varric sat down by Cullen’s side and huffed heavily. The dwarf waited in silence, while Cullen drifted in and out of consciousness. He dreamt horrible visions, a smirking Hawke, being cut down by a black figure with glowing blue eyes as he fell down into the mouth of a Pride demon. He grasped to hold onto one of its fangs, but ultimately fell down into the dark Void of its stomach. There he was consumed by acids, pulling away at his skin and drilling holes in his brain. He screamed, both internally and externally, sitting up with a gasp. The fever dream ended and Cullen was glad for a slight moment to find Varric still there, ready with a glass of cold water.

Cullen sipped at it carefully, tasting it for poison, before finally deciding that if the dwarf wanted to kill him, he would have done so already.

Varric spoke softly with a trembling voice, as if he didn’t really want to know the answer. “How did you end up outside of Hawke’s lair with all those cuts?”

Cullen sat up and discovered they had dressed him in cheap, grey clothes. The cuts were partially healed, and now there were pink strips of flesh where the cuts had been. “They abducted me. The Spider and her fellow. Tortured me, tried to make me swear not to investigate further. It didn’t work. I will not falter.”

“Maker’s ass, she really went too far this time,” sighed Varric and rubbed the back of his neck. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I had no idea how deep he had his claws in her.”

“Who?” asked Cullen. Then he recalled having barged in on a private conversation between Hawke and that blond mage. “That Anders, that … Grey Warden?”

Varric nodded. “That’s not all he is, though. Not anymore. But I’m not the one to tell this story. If you want a straight answer, you need to see her one last time. And save her from herself, one way or another.”

Varric’s eyes darted to the floor, as if he was ashamed of what he might have been implying.

Cullen shook his head ferociously. “Never. I’m done with this shit. I don’t want anything more to do with you people. I have to get back to my duties. There are mages and Templars to be found.”

He made a move to leave, but Varric placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Hold on, I can offer you something,” said Varric. “A confirmation really, on what you already figured out. It was she who opened the tunnel again. To help free escaped mages. That’s what got us started in the first place. But Anders has used her compassion for his own ends. His own vendetta.”

Cullen felt his strength return enough for him to stand up. He looked down on Varric. “Thank you. I’ll relay that to my Commander.”

“Wait!” Varric gasped as Cullen tried to leave again. “Don’t tell her. If you do, Hawke will know I snitched. She’s not sure where her allies are anymore and if she suspects I’m working against her, she’ll kill me.”

“Are you mad? I have to report this.” Cullen tried to go around Varric but the dwarf was quicker than he looked.

“Please, as a return-favour for me saving your life?” he offered desperately, his eyes pleading. There was a genuine fear there. His hand twitched slightly and Cullen saw he was unarmed. The crossbow was lying on the floor next to the table where Cullen had woken up.

But Cullen was relentless. He had a job, a calling, and not even fast friends would stand in the way of that. His eyes fell upon a mounted sword on the wall, the crest on the shield behind it bore two eagles fighting each other, talons on talons. Or perhaps they were on the same team, protecting each other. They were also carved into the hilt of the sword. He had a slight memory of having seen that seal before, but couldn’t remember where. Nonetheless, Cullen pulled the sword out of its hold and held it against Varric’s neck.

“Let me leave, dwarf, or I’ll cut my way out of here,” he threatened. “And I don’t mean the door.”

To his surprise, the dwarf dropped to his knees, hands hanging slack, surrendering. “Do it. I’m sick of trying to protect her life and legacy while she doesn’t give a shit about me. She should have known not to get mixed up with crazed mages, demons and Templars gone bonkers.”

Cullen considered for a slight moment cutting the dwarf’s throat. But what would that solve? He was, well, not innocent precisely, but not a part of whatever scheme Hawke and Anders had cooked up. Varric had tried to pin the blame solely on Anders but it would take a lot of explaining on Hawke’s part to assure Cullen she was not the one abducting Templars. Sers Frend and Cauchemar were still missing after all, and Cullen suspected even Ser Prawley and many others as well. If he wanted to find them, he would need to plea to her again. And that was not about to happen. His options flooded almost before his eyes, his duty being the strongest. He could lie. The dwarf would be none the wiser, Meredith would be satisfied and could devote resources to end this outbreak once and for all. His loyalty to the Order was older and more resolute than that of a rogue dwarf from Lowtown. Maybe they could even storm her den and take her captive. Cullen could be the one to interrogate her, he mused slightly in his head what that would feel like, him being in control and her another defenceless mage at his mercy. He almost looked forward to that moment, craved to be alone with her at her knees instead of the other way around. Just to be able to pay back what she’d done to him.
He put the sword back up on the wall, deciding silently to betray the trust of the dwarf who’d just saved his life.

“You have my word,” he said, faking solemnity. “I will not investigate the missing mages anymore, but I never want to meet you or Hawke ever again.”

He knew Varric would probably find out sooner or later, but he had to be true to himself and his duty. It felt weird to lie so outright, even while shaking Varric’s hand to solidify his honour.

Varric hissed. “You might want to call off your search on behalf of your investigation team, as well. I hear they’re causing quite the ruckus looking for the mages, one of them even attempted to infiltrate the Coterie. They didn’t get far, and some of my associates had them, ah … escorted off the premises.”

“What?” Cullen spat. “How did they find time to go that far?”

“Well, you’ve been gone for almost four days now,” Varric said, sounding almost amused.

Cullen stammered. “Four days? I-I need to get back to the Gallows.”

Varric stepped aside. “I guess I will have to trust you. I’ve been laying low while you were out cold. I advise you to do the same. The Spider has eyes everywhere. But I never thought this of her.”

Cullen hesitated, wondering if he should tell Varric that his former best friend had been temporarily replaced by a Desire demon. But the lost look in Varric’s eyes told him he already knew. The dwarf opened the door, letting Cullen dart back to the Gallows as quickly as his mangled body allowed.

When he reached the door to Meredith’s office, it swung open before he had the time to knock and she stood face to face with him, looking more bewildered than he’d ever seen her before.

“Knight-Captain!” she exclaimed and looked about ready to hug him. Her eyes watered over and she stood up straight. “We just reported you as missing. Where have you been?”

“I was abducted,” he said and showing her the partially healed cuts on his stomach. “They bled me, and left me for dead.”

Meredith eyed his injuries carefully. “It seems they tried to undo their work, the cuts are almost healed. How are you feeling?”

He saluted and stood up straight, even though it hurt. “Fit for duty, Knight-Commander. And I have quite a lot to tell you.”

The superior officer smiled softly. She backed into her room again and held the door open for him. “Come inside. If it wasn’t for the shortage of Templars this particular month, I would grant you a leave of absence, to recover properly. But I reconsidered your idea of petitioning for a fundraiser for the Order and the Viscount tells me one of the new noblewomen agreed to hold it in her mansion.”

“What does that have to do with me?” said Cullen. He sat down on the empty chair before the desk and Meredith took up her seat behind it. He had no love of nobles, but if it would get his mind and body away from Hawke, it would be preferable than lying abed useless.

“I detest these things, I feel like a glorified beggar,” Meredith said. “I’d like you to attend on behalf of the Order. You won’t be alone, of course. I will send some of our younger recruits to charm the nobles, too. But you will have to be there in my stead, and raise as many funds as you can. Look into recruiting as well, surely some of the nobles have enough children to spare. Or bastards they want occupied.”

Cullen dreaded this, but agreed. He still wanted to serve, and it would be worlds away from the Spider, up in Hightown where her influence hadn’t yet reached.

“What happened to you?” she asked, now taking on a more familiar voice. “I was worried I had lost my best Captain.”

Cullen told her almost everything he knew. He told her of the tunnel, which Hawke had sealed and reopened, about Anders the now-more-than-a-Grey-Warden, the Desire demon (but not how he’d been seduced by it), the blood mist, the use of blood-magic. All the while he felt a surge of guilt and a lump in his throat, and was careful not to mention Varric Tethras in any way, even that there had been a dwarf helping him. She listened patiently and took notes while he spoke.

When he was finished, she shook her head. “I was worried this was the case with the Spider. She has too much power for such a lowborn citizen, and a refugee at that. We’ll commit resources to finding her and dealing with her and her associates. How did you work all this out?”

Cullen looked down. He wouldn’t sell Varric out completely, and most of the information came from his own deductions. “During my torture. And word of mouth in the Undercity.”

“I see,” said Meredith pensively as she stood up. He followed suit. “Thank you for your report.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off. We need you at your best tomorrow evening at the noblewoman’s fundraising.”

“Who is the noblewoman?” he asked. It didn’t really matter, as it was probably one of those ragged old widows with nothing but time and money to spend.

“One Lady Amell, as I recall,” Meredith replied.

Chapter Text

Cullen stared into the mirror in the hallway of noblewoman Amell’s hightown estate. He couldn’t believe how handsome he looked. He’d done his own hair, since that was something he was particular about since his childhood days in Honnleath but he’d allowed servants to clean and dress him in an ensemble that made him look like a noble. He was surrounded by actual nobles, lords and ladies, and accompanied by five other Templars, also made to look like nobles. Two of them were lowborn, two were bastards given to the chantry early in life, but one was actually well-versed in the noble life. He had left his highlife, or he had been coerced into it, Cullen wasn’t sure, but he still knew a lot about these parties. He’d spent a long time before the party telling them how they should behave. He mingled ferociously, imbibing the complementary drinks along with the other young Templars. Cullen mentally scoffed at them, how could they enjoy themselves at such an occasion when they were only here to beg for money? He refused to drink anything he was served.

“I hear you were in Ferelden, too, Knight-Captain,” said a nearby noblewoman dressed in red, with a modest hat and rosy cheeks. She was many years his senior, but nevertheless a beautiful woman, dignified and proper.

He hadn’t really listened to the conversation, so he had no idea what she had meant by ‘too’, but he nodded politely. “Yes, that’s right. I come from a small village in eastern Ferelden.”

“Oh, I love Ferelden,” said the noblewoman graciously. “I was born and raised here in Kirkwall, but my husband was Fereldan so we moved there after getting married. We raised our three children in Lothering, mostly.”

Cullen snapped back into the moment and tried to smile. “Lothering is a beautiful village. I passed by there once.”

“Forgive my manners,” the lady said and curtsied gracefully. “I’m out of practise. I am Leandra Amell”.

Ah, so this was Lady Amell. He felt bad for having pictured a ragged old hag as the hostess, so he bowed back and nodded. “A pleasure. I am Knight-Captain Cullen Rutherford, at your service.”

“Pleasure to have you here, Knight-Captain,” said Leandra Amell. “Even though I’ve spent many years avoiding Templars.” She gave a slight chuckle, but looked concerned when she saw his mouth drop ajar. “I should explain. Two of my children are mages, as was my husband. My daughter and I have decided to aid your cause, to show that past grievances should be allowed to die.”

He tried not to show it bothered him that she so openly announced her kin as mages, but his Templar training had him on edge. She seemed a decent lady, her children would surely be like her. This was a noble family after all, he would have no way of bringing in her children to the Circle with all their leverage.

“A fine sentiment,” he said and bowed again. “The Templars are lucky to have friends such as yourself. I hope we can continue to work together for peace and safety for everyone.”

Leandra smiled warmly. “I must admit I have rarely met aTemplar with such grace, Ser Cullen. You are very welcome in our home. I hope this evening will be most lucrative for us all, both in terms of funds and friendships. I trust you’ll save me a dance later?”

Cullen chuckled. “No promises. I am not one for dancing, I’m afraid. But on behalf of the Templar Order, I must thank you for holding the fundraising here, mistress. It means a great deal to us to have such esteemed allies.”

Leandra Amell waved her gloved once. “Ah, it was my daughter’s idea. Speaking of my daughter, where is she? She was supposed to make her grand entrance and start off the evening. The nerve of that girl!”

Cullen laughed courteously. Leandra Amell hurried through the crowd of nobles towards the bigger area just down the stairs and he immediately missed her company. She was one of those honest, true ladies that no harm should come to. Turning to survey the room Cullen searched for his accomplices, one of them, named Ser Fridrik, was getting really friendly with a young noblewoman, while another sat in a corner looking as lost as Cullen felt.

Suddenly, someone clinked their glass to gain the attention of everyone present. Everyone turned towards the noise and the chatter abruptly died.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dear friends, and honoured guests!” the lady Amell called out. Everyone applauded or clinked their own glasses. Cullen only swayed on his heels and looked around for his Templars again, in case they needed to make an official appearance or do an acceptance speech (the one he’d practised all day long in the mirror). “I feel so blessed to play hostess in this, my parents’ old estate, now owned by my eldest daughter. As some of you may know, she is a mage …”

The chatter opened up again, though in lower volumes, at the mere mentioning of a mage. Cullen tried not to let it bother him, both the mage-thing and the gossip between nobles. After all, there were several noble houses with free mages in them outside of Kirkwall. It seemed less common in Kirkwall, Cullen knew about at least ten noble mages in the Circle. The other Templars seemed to react to this as well, and many nobles turned their heads to stare at the outsiders, as if they were some animals in cages, there for their amusement.

“ … Please, my dear guests, let me continue,” said Leandra, with a careful glance at Cullen. “I know mages in this city are put down and taken into the safety of the Gallows. For which we are thankful.” Applause, cheers, clinking. “And, as you know, we have some representatives from our very own Templar Order here with us tonight, pleading for aid in their just cause to keep our streets and homes safe from the corruption of criminal mages.”

Applause, cheers, clinking. Everyone turned to look at Cullen again and he smiled uncomfortably. He ached to fetch his sword, which was safely tucked away in his room in the Gallows. Meredith had assured him he wouldn’t be needing it.

“As the former wife of a mage,” Leandra continued. “… and a mother of two, I must inform you there is no danger unless the mages themselves are bad. The only threat lies with threatening the mage, if the mage feels unsafe, of course they would defend themselves, like the rest of us.” The low chatter began again, but Leandra talked over it. “We in the Amell family wish to support both Circle and Order, both Mage and Templar.”

She waved at Cullen to come closer, and he elbowed his way towards her, along with his subordinates, to present himself. Leandra put two warm hands on his shoulders.

“Here with us tonight is the Knight-Captain Cullen of the Kirkwall Templar order,” she said. Applause, cheers, clinking. Cullen began to sweat and hoped it wasn’t time for his speech just yet. “They come in peace, to ask for support. There need not be a conflict, if we only work to understand one another. And to that end, I would like to present to you my daughter, Lady Marion Amell, whose ideas of peace are what drove us to hold this fundraising.”

More applause and even whistles, as soft thuds echoed from atop the staircase. Cullen felt relieved he wasn’t forced into the stiffy speech he’d been practicing, and followed the eyes of the gathering. Standing at the top, dressed in a soft, black dress, low cut, slivering down her long, sleek legs, with a silvery embroidery of a web, her black hair done up in a bun at the back, her purple eyes reflecting every light source in the room, her eyelids painted black, her full, red lips smirking, one hand on her hip while the other was waving, was the Spider Queen herself.

Cullen’s jaw dropped and he couldn’t even lift his hands to applaud her descent down the stairs. She started to speak, but the words were drowned out by a ringing in his ear. She bent over to say something directly to him, and as the room fell silent waiting for his response, he found he had no idea what she’d just said. He just gawked at her, not able to keep his eyes from wondering over her cleavage and up to her eyes again.

“I said, isn’t that right?” she repeated, smiling, eyeing him politely, as if this was the first time they met.

“That’s right,” he muttered frantically, and looked at his associates, who strongly nodded along. The young men were also not able to keep their eyes off the beautiful woman standing in front of them, but as he turned to them, he hit them over their shoulders whispering “get it together!”, although more to himself than to them.

“Please, go back to mingling, there will be a feast soon for all to enjoy!” said Leandra and kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I’ll go check the kitchen. Dear Maker, after living rurally for twenty years, it’s hard to let go of such chores. If you would excuse me…”

She hurried off again to Cullen’s and Hawke’s polite laughter, which ended the second she was gone. Cullen drilled his eyes into Hawke’s and she fidgeted uncomfortably.

“You’re noble?” he whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Hawke sighed. “Not here. Pretend we don’t know each other. It’s for the best.”

Cullen couldn’t help but growl. “Last time we met, you tortured me and left me for dead in the Undercity!”

“That wasn’t me”, she whispered. Her voice even cracked and he saw a flicker of doubt in her otherwise unwavering eyes. “I thought you knew that. I hoped you knew that.”

“They couldn’t have done it without your consent,” hissed Cullen. The scars stung on his stomach and thighs, and the image of the blood seeping out of him and into a red mist around the glow-eyed man on the bed, was still prickling at his heart.

“Not here,” Hawke repeated. “Go back to mingling for now. I’ll make sure we get time later.”

Hawke plastered on a fake smile as she slipped away to greet more guests. Cullen was left slack jawed, confused and angry. Too angry in fact to even pretend to have a good time anymore. He excused himself, told the other Templars to grovel for funds, and stepped out onto the street outside of the Amell doors. He stared at the seal above the door recognizing it from the hut in the Alienage where he’d been healed. So it was the Amell seal. The sword was probably given to that elf girl as a gift. The two eagles, (or was it hawks, he pondered) looked like they were fighting each other. The infighting must have taken its toll on the young lady Amell, the lady Hawke, the Spider Queen. Perhaps she wished to escape the life she’d built since she came here? Was that the reason she put on the airs of a noblewoman?

After reflecting for short while, and trying to avoid the looks of the noble men and women passing by, he went back inside. He was immediately stormed by his subordinates.

“Where did you go, Knight-Captain?” one of them said anxiously. “They wanted one of us seated at the side of Mistress Amell and we didn’t know …”

Cullen decided to treat this as an undercover job, even though everyone knew who they were and why they were there. It was an infiltration mission, nothing more, nothing less, and he’d done plenty of those before. These enemies were just a bit more figurative than literal. Nobody had to die today. Hopefully.

“I just needed to get some air,” he huffed and cocked his head. “Let’s get this over with. I’ll take point, you spread out.”

As they entered the dining hall, they saw every noble was seated and awaited the first course. He ordered his men to take the empty seats around the table, with him right by the Spider Queen’s side. Her mother was at the other end of the table along with a grey-haired gentlemen who’d clearly forgotten to shave this evening, looking less refined than the senior Lady Amell. They were alike though, so Cullen assumed it was her rumoured ill-fated brother he’d read up on before coming here tonight.

Hawke leaned over with a delicate hand on his sleeve. “Everything alright?”

“We’ll talk later”, he growled, still not really over the fact she’d lied to him. “Let’s get this blasted evening over with.”

He wondered slightly if the nobility had any idea that she was the infamous Spider Queen. The man on her left instantly took her attention, but Cullen didn’t mind. He instead got chatting with the woman on his right, a wealthy widow with a long line of names he had trouble remembering. Probably the only good thing about speaking to nobility was that he could address them as milord or milady and he didn’t really have to remember.

The first course rolled in on brass trays. Lady Amell the elder announced that it was a salty vegetable broth from Ferelden, designed to spark the appetite. Cullen felt the sting of homesickness the moment his lips touched the spoon. The soup was salty and there was a faint taste of carrots and garlic in there that made his stomach rumble in anticipation of the coming, hopefully more satisfying courses. It was akin to the broth they received at the Gallows, and he suspected that the coming dishes would have him satiated for weeks. The widow on his left marvelled over the Fereldan “picturesque” appetizer and wished to know more about his homeland. He indulged her to the best of his ability, but refused to answer questions about his time in the Circle tower and only stretched as far as describing his upbringing near Honnleath.

It continued like this over the eleven-course dinner, where the portions got gradually larger and larger. Afterwards, Cullen couldn’t remember half of what he’d eaten, sometimes it wasn’t even announced. At more than one occasion, he caught the Spider Queen listening in on his conversation, smiling at something he said, it made his heart skip. It was always interrupted by the nobleman on her left or some other guest who called her name and demanded a story, or the next course. The nobleman on her left took up much of her attention, but Cullen was amused to discover that she was as bored as he was, sometimes spinning her glass on the table or making her fork and knife clink at boring parts of conversation. His fellow Templars seemed to be enjoying themselves though. One of them was deep in conversation with a lord, so much so that the pair didn’t notice the new course being placed in front of them, and didn’t even try the pork-wrapped asparagus before it was taken out again. But one Templar had even slipped away, presumably with the young noblewoman he’d been getting friendly with. This turn of events made him feel anxious, and it was hard not to think more of it. What if the girl had abducted one of his Templars right under his very nose?

When the plates from the last dessert rolled out (a single slice of cheese on top of a tin cracker with thyme sprinkled over it), Hawke announced it was time for the room to be cleared to make room for dancing. The guests were to go back out to the hall and mingle again. Cullen re-joined his Templars, only to find that the one who’d slipped away during dinner was still missing.

“Don’t worry, Knight-captain, he’s probably off having a good time”, assured one of the female Templars. “If I know Ser Fridrick, he won’t be back until sunrise.”

“I heard differently”, said one of the others. “Fridrick is usually very quick about it.”

The others laughed heartily, but Cullen was concerned. The disappearances of either Templar or mage was always suspicious, even in this setting. Even though the girl hadn’t been a mage as far as Cullen was aware, she could just as well be an accomplice of the Spider Queen, luring away unsuspecting Templars.

“Keep your eyes open”, he ordered them once more. “Our hostess is a mage after all, one cannot be too careful.”

The Templars agreed and spread out again. Cullen placed himself near the staircase with his back against the wall so that he couldn’t get ambushed. Then he felt a slight jab of a finger in his right side and turned to face whoever had poked him. The Spider Queen quickly looked around for prying eyes and meddling ears, and cocked her head towards a dark library, lit only by a crackling fireplace. There were Tevene sculptures with eyes following them around the room, and a desk with a journal splayed out.

Chapter Text

“I believe I owe you an explanation”, Hawke said, sitting down on the desk, pushing the journal aside and closing it. “And an apology, of course. I’m very sorry for all the pain I’ve caused you. I promise to answer truthfully to any questions you might have.”

Cullen was surprised, to say the least, but grateful nonetheless that he might finally get some answers this evening. But first things first…
“Is this evening a set-up for you to abduct Templars?” he said. “Where is Ser Fridrick?”

Hawke shook her head. “This really is a fundraiser. I have to make it clear I am not a dangerous mage. I figured if I supported the Templars publicly, they would get off my back. I am one of few free mages in this city. I will not be linked with the Spider Queen going forward. The nobles have no idea, neither does the viscount. Neither does my mother, of course.”

Cullen caught her eye and saw a flicker of doubt in her again. His curiosity got the better of him and he was dying to know. “How did you even become the Spider Queen?”

“That is a long story”, said Hawke flashing a smile. “The short version is that I was a refugee from Ferelden, seeking safe harbour. I discovered I had a knack for persuading people and it won me influence, first in Darktown, where I gained power and wealth through the various gangs. I admit I … did despicable things on my way up, to earn their respect and loyalty. My brother and I acquired a key to the wine-cellar beneath this very house, where I could set up initial operations. Once the trip to the Deep roads was certain, I left Anders in charge, along with some other acquaintances. In the Deep roads I lost my brother to the taint but returned even wealthier and high-profile than I was before. It enabled me to purchase this mansion and restore it to its former glory, mostly for my mother’s sake. This is her childhood home.”

Cullen glanced around noting the fine furnishings and the Amell crest carved into the fireplace. He would never have suspected that this was where the Spider Queen resided. Her dealings had seemed like something of a carta crime boss, living down in the grimy, muddy streets of Darktown. But, he supposed, once they become rich, they must take a step up, and back, so to speak, from those places. And run things from above like some deity.

“I made a new escape route down to the wine-cellar in Darktown” Hawke continued, “to make quick escapes and slip unnoticed through the city when I need to. As for the name, I figure it’s because I have a large web, not many things go on in this city without me knowing about it. I ensnare or kill those who oppose me.”

“Can you tell me about the tunnel you covered up?” said Cullen sternly. It was one of the other things he’d been clamouring to know.

Hawke hesitated. “Will this reach Meredith’s ears?”

Cullen broke eye-contact and shook his head, but he wasn’t sure himself. “I will only relay the most important parts. I understand why you would want to help other mages. I am only looking for answers, a culprit to the missing mages and Templars and the person responsible for the death of Ser Emmer?”

“I opened up the tunnel again”, Hawke confessed. “But only at the behest of the one I love. The only person who has any sway over me.”

“Anders?” Cullen guessed. “I saw you two.”

“The tunnel…” Hawke sighed. “It is a passage between Darktown and the Gallows. It’s used by Prawley and Anders to free mages and I allow it.”

“Prawley?” Cullen hade vague memories of him. He was one of the first Templars to go missing these last few months. He was the one who’d abandoned Emmer on their first watch night.

Hawke continued. “The Order here was too much for Prawley to handle, it’s too strict. I don’t know the details, but he got… friendly with a spirit of Compassion, only his nature turned it into more of a demon of Defiance. He was too bold for the compassionate spirit to handle. Much like Anders himself who has a spirit of Justice inside him, but it has evolved into something closer to Vengeance…” She trailed off, sounding unsure in how much she wanted to share, he waited and eventually she continued. “The flashing blue lights in the hut were signals to the other mages in the tunnel that it’s clear to come out. The blood vials and lyrium bottles you found are used by Prawley and Anders. The blood drawn from you combined with the samples of hair from your armour I borrowed, allows for Prawley to disguise himself as a Templar named Ser Cauchemar, and move around the Gallows undetected, to recruit and use young mage women and Templars.”

“So Cauchemar is Prawley in disguise?” Cullen asked. That was why he’d gone missing, Cullen realized, the spell had worn off. “What happened to the others, Ser Frend…?”

“Ser Frend and some other Templars were offered a choice, help save mages, or be used in their rituals,” said Hawke, now sounding ashamed. “Ser Frend refused, so they kidnapped him. I don’t know where he is now. Prawley uses Templar blood to sneak into the Order, with different names every time. It’s very advanced blood magic, but I tend to look the other way when it comes to Anders. Prawley uses him, teaches him more hate than he previously possessed.”

“So you really had nothing to do with all that?” Cullen said. “Doubtful. You yourself said you know everything going on in Kirkwall.”

“Almost,” Hawke replied swiftly. “Like I said, I have a soft spot with Anders. When I allowed him to take my seat while I was in the Deep roads, he and Prawley summoned a demon of Desire and made her look and act like me, to convince our contacts I was still around. Otherwise, they might rise up against my organization in my absence. Sometimes, they do things without me knowing about it. I hadn’t condoned your kidnapping and torture. But I will never turn Anders over to you. He doesn’t need to be executed or branded, he only needs my help.”

“So you’re saying all this is because of Prawley and not Anders at all?” said Cullen. His head spun and he felt light-headed, so much so that he had to lean on the desk to not fall over.

“Anders began this operation with good intentions,” Hawke explained. “We worked together for power and to free mages. Prawley twisted him to his own ends. They don’t rescue mages for their freedom now. Prawley is a predator, in more ways than one. He… uses the young mage girls. I’ve tried to confront him about it but he’s too powerful, even for me. And Anders defends him constantly. I can’t get to him without harming Anders.”

“Who was it that kidnapped me and had me tortured?” he hissed.

Hawke sighed. “I hope you know I wasn’t responsible for that. Anders and Prawley were sick of you getting in their way and stalling operations. They also needed Templar blood to get into the Gallows. I was in Hightown for that particular occasion, and only found out about it after Merrill and the others helped heal you. They used the Desire demon copy and some tricks of their own. I wish they hadn’t. Despite what you might think, I actually think you are a decent person. I feared you had ended up like the others. Merrill got word to me you survived.”

“Where is Ser Frend?” said Cullen, his blood boiling and heart racing from all this new information. His hand instinctively went to his belt, only to find that his sword was not there. Instead, his eyes fell upon a dagger on her desk.

“Most likely dead,” Hawke sighed. “They drained him a lot.”

On instinct Cullen lunged for the dagger. He held it between them, blade pointed at her heart. She didn’t even flinch or seem surprised.
“You going to kill me at my own party?” she said. Her eyes sparkled but the purple light was gone. 

“You are too dangerous to be allowed to live,” said Cullen. “Your actions have left Prawley and Anders free to kill anyone they like. If I kill you now and hunt them down, I could put an end to all this.”

Hawke stared into his soul, parted her lips but said nothing. She came closer, even pushing against the tip of the dagger, but her skin was impenetrable. She must have cast the rock shield spell over herself. 

“Do it,” she challenged softly “see how far you will come after ending my life. I have thousands of loyal soldiers waiting for someone to try.”

He couldn’t, even if he wasn’t very afraid of her army, he just couldn’t. Did she wield a power over him still? Her red lips smirked as he dropped the dagger to the floor, backing away. Perhaps she had known he wouldn’t do it. 

“Thank you for everything you told me,” He said, leaning on the desk again. “This evening hasn’t gone the way I expected, at all.”

Thankfully, Hawke didn’t seem to take the attempt on her life personally. She sat down beside him, breathing in and out slowly. Her hand was dangerously close to his on the desk. He couldn’t help but stare at her heaving chest, in the revealing dress she still wore. That, paired with her plump lips made his body ache with longing. He cursed it, cursed her, wanting to leave but not being able to. He wished she would stop breathing so hard. He was just about to say that to her but when his eyes met hers the words died in his throat. She looked at him, he looked at her, inches apart. What was going on? Did she want him this close? After she just professed her love for Anders so passionately?

Then there was an insistent knock on the door.

“So, are we good?” she said. “If there is anything else, you can come visit me here. Not Darktown. There are too many eyes belonging to Anders and Prawley down there.”

“I believe we’re fine,” said Cullen carefully, still unsure whether to trust her.

“Back to business,” she said and exited the room.

Cullen was left standing there, half-leaned against the desk and wondered if an important moment had just passed them by. He’d gotten to know her darkest secrets and… could do nothing about it. His sense of duty tugged at his brain, saying he should go straight to Meredith with this after the fundraising was over. He wanted to serve the Order, to be a good Templar, to make his Commander proud. But he also didn’t wish Hawke any harm, since according to her, everything really was the work of a Templar, Ser Prawley. Who would have suspected? He hadn’t stood out in any way, except being cynical of the Order and his duties. There were a great many young Templars who had their qualms at the beginning, but once they were initiated and had been knights for a time, they all came around. Cullen remembered having doubts himself. At the Chantry where he’d studied, he often found himself homesick and feeling sorry for the mages he was watching. Especially one mage girl he had had to attend a Harrowing for.

Prawley wouldn’t be easy to find. It would be too dangerous to examine the tunnel again if Anders and Prawley were as malevolent and powerful as Hawke said. Where would that investigation even lead? Probably to the death of more Templars and the escape of more mages. He considered interrogating the younger women, since it seemed Prawley had his twisted mind on something more sinister than merely freeing them. Perhaps Prawley was a victim of demon possession himself, and this Anders fellow was the real culprit after all, even if Hawke refused to see it. Varric had mentioned Hawke was in over her head about Anders and been blinded by something far more dangerous than blood-magic, namely love. She herself admitted to having a blind spot. What if he, Cullen, could make her see?

At the end of the party, he left the mansion with four of his Templars, Ser Fridrick still missing, a substantial sum of money donated to the Order and ten more recruits promised to him by the nobles. All in all, it had been a profitable evening, both for the Order and for Cullen’s burning questions. He even gave his practiced speech to roaring success after his conversation with Hawke. 

Why then did he leave her mansion with a sinking feeling, a pit in his stomach, a lump in his throat and dry mouth? It felt like he had forgotten to do something very important.
The other Templars scuffled off ahead, Cullen promised to catch up. He lingered behind, letting past some nobles who’d left at the same time. They were the last ones there. The usual carta dwarves were outside the mansion, guarding it from afar, eyeing him carefully with hands on their daggers. As the other guests had left, they hurried towards the door, past Cullen, and inside the mansion. He felt a sting of worry, what if they were there to harm her? What if they had turned on her? But his concern was proven void when the Carta dwarves came back out, one putting his hand on Cullen’s wrist.

“She wants you back in,” he said with his thick accent. The other one shoved Cullen in the direction of the door.

“Alright, I’m going,” he said annoyingly and went back inside quickly.

Chapter Text

The dwarves shut the door behind him. In the nice little entry hall stood Hawke. Already she had replaced her black dress for some less tight clothes, a short sleeveless, white dress and soft silken trousers. Her make-up had already been washed away. She’d let loose her hair too and it was now streaming down her shoulders and chest like the day he’d first met her. She was always gorgeous but seeing her this natural almost felt like coming home. She looked sweet somehow, innocent. The word cute came to mind, but it was almost ridiculous to describe the mighty Spider Queen as ‘cute’, as if she was some sort of pet animal.

“I decided I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to send for you,” she said amiably. “I was just about to have some late night tea, if you would join me?”

Cullen looked over his shoulder. “I should report back to the Gallows. There is a lot to be relayed to Meredith and I …” Hawke turned away from him and he saw her round backside reveal its curve through her night gown. “I suppose I could stay for a night cap … uh cup! Of tea.”

She smiled and led him inside again. The remnants of the party were being cleaned up by a red-haired bearded dwarf and a young elven girl. When they saw Cullen, they froze and stared inquiringly at Hawke.

“Relax, Bodahn, Orana,” Hawke said and went past them. “The Knight-Captain and I have a few things to go over. I’ll take tea in my room tonight, be a dear and bring a cup for the Captain as well, Orana.”

“Of course, mistress,” said the young elf girl and hurried off to the kitchen. Hawke started up the stairs, and Cullen followed. The only thing he could fix his eyes upon was that of her behind, directly at the height of his eyes. His hands were shaking and his mouth was dry. He felt like he was going to get punished, as if he was in trouble for something.

They passed the door of the senior Lady Amell, her name and white lilies were painted on it. Hawke saw him looking that way. “Don’t worry. She is fast asleep. She won’t hear a thing.”

Hear what exactly? He supposed he could guess what she was referring to, but he hadn’t the guts to hope for it. Ever since their first meeting, he’d wanted her. Passionately, fiery, desperately. He would have her over and over, until she no longer wanted her other lover. He wanted all of her, forever, and all the time. But she was in love with Anders and would never touch Cullen, would never kiss him with those red, full lips, never let her hands caress his every inch, never moan into his ear, never suck his tongue or bite his earlobe, never …

“Cullen, are you alright?”

Hawke was standing in front of the fireplace, the light of the flames lighting up her face and reflected upon her evening robes, even shining through the thin fabric to reveal her form. Cullen found himself standing straight-backed near the door, his face red and flushed, and body aching from wanting to take her on the nearby bed.

Stop it. She’s not yours!

“Why did you call me back here?” he asked, trying to sound more self-assured than he felt.

There was a careful knock at the door, and clinking of cups, as Orana opened the door placed a tray with two cups just inside, then left again.

Hawke gave a sigh, strode right past Cullen to pick up the tea, handing him one of the cups. When their fingered touched, by accident or by her design, his body felt as if it had caught fire. He began to sweat.

“I didn’t feel like being alone tonight,” she said and sat down on the floor in front of the fireplace. She patted the floor beside her to coax him into sitting down next to her. How unconventional, especially when there were a couple of armchairs at the other end of the room, and even a table. “Anders is away with Prawley on something. He’d throw a fit if he knew you were here.” Cullen hated when she said Anders’ name. It made him feel small and insignificant. “These nights when he’s away and won’t say where and for how long … I am constantly worrying. I was hoping you might keep me company.”

He sipped at his cup, trying to delay his answer for as long as he could. Mostly because he feared what he might say to her while being so close  and not in any sort of armour. But also because he had no idea what else to say to sound normal. What would someone say in this situation? A beautiful woman you craved had invited you over to her room to intimately drinking tea together on the floor next to a burning fireplace.

 “Company,” he said suavely, eventually as he stared into the flames, trying to avoid her gaze which he could feel was on him. “Is that all I am?”

Hawke scooted closer to him. He couldn’t tell which was warmer, the fire or her. Finally, he couldn’t avoid her gaze anymore.

“It feels nice to have someone to talk to, you know,” she said sweetly. “The others … they don’t understand. They judge me. I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“What gave you that idea?” he huffed and finished the tea all too quickly, it burnt his mouth. He tried to not let it show. He breathed hard feeling like bumbling idiot. Even here, even in her own quarters, she was powerful and graceful and he, was little more than a peasant boy turned Templar, within reach of some sort of deity. It was too good to be true. “I thought you hated Templars.”

“But you’re not just a Templar anymore,” she insisted. She sounded almost insecure, as if she thought she didn’t deserve him. It was puzzling. “I might even consider you a … friend.”

“We can’t be friends,” he said hesitantly. His mind fought her with every beat of his heart as he tried to come up with reasons to keep her at a distance. “Your real friends are probably out setting more mages free. Tomorrow, we’ll get the report. Tomorrow, things will go back to the way they were.”

Hawke smiled and chuckled slightly. “Tomorrow, yes. But what about tonight?”

She scooted even closer, as if that was possible, and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Don’t you want me?” she whispered. Her eyes moved down to his lips and she breathed heavily.

Cullen stared at her lips as well. Those red, plump lips parting ever so slightly to reveal her white front teeth brushing her lower lip. But the image of the Desire demon with her fangs and glowing purple eyes were still fresh in his mind and he dared not hope for the real Hawke anymore. Furthermore, he knew her loyalty was elsewhere, her heart belonged to someone else, this could never be anything more than one night and he wanted more than that from her. He reluctantly slid away from her.

“You’re with Anders,” he said.

“And here I thought your name was Cullen,” Hawke jested, but Cullen didn’t find it at all amusing. “Anders is not here. You’re here, I’m here. You can have me for tonight. You’ve won.”

“For tonight, and that’s it?” said Cullen, all the while cursing his own honour. He could’ve just gone with it, but it felt wrong. He got to his feet setting the cup down on the mantle. Hawke stood as well, shifting her eyebrows in confusion. “First of all, I’m not a toy you can summon, use and discard. I am not one of your subordinates. If you want casual intimacy, ask anyone out there on the street. They would gladly come to your aid. Second of all, no, you’re not a prize I was hoping to win. You’re a complicated person and I would rather stay away from your antics.”

Hawke huffed. “Is that what you think of me? Some sex-addled maniac who uses men for her pleasure alone? I summoned you back because I want you. You keep me grounded. You keep me honourable. I feel like I’m slipping away and I …” She hit the air around her with her fist causing a wave of wind to flow around them. “… damn it! It’s all gone to shit. That fucking Prawley, corrupting everything. Destroying us. I wish I could…”

“Then why don’t you?”  said Cullen. Hawke shook her head, and there were tears in her eyes. “Yes. You have an army. Why can’t you challenge Prawley and kill him? I’ll even …” He stopped himself unsure if he was really capable of aiding. But he wanted to comfort her now and even if it was a lie in truth, it wasn’t a lie in his heart. He would help her if he could. “… Get some Templars to help. Together, we can stop this madness.”

“It’s no use,” Hawke wept and sat down on the bed. “It’s all ruined. Anders is in far too deep to see. If I kill Prawley, and if you bring your fellows, he’ll die, or get captured. I can’t risk it.”

She put her face in her hands, sobbing and shaking. Cullen wanted to sit beside her and leave in equal amount, he settled for staying where he was. His heart twisted for her, seeing her so despairing and he began to realise there was something else, something deeper than desire between them. Here she was sat on a very large, inviting bed and yet what had first been longing to take her, had become longing to belong to her and for the moment he wanted nothing more than to try and solve her problem. “Have you considered alerting the City watch?”

She snorted. “Now you sound like Aveline. Yes, I have considered. But that would bring death to more good people and I can’t have that. She hates me for it but knows I’m right.”

Cullen silently agreed. “So, what’s your best option here? Do nothing?”

Hawke rubbed her face in her palms. She looked flustered, but still the most marvellous thing he’d seen in his life. She stood up. “There is nothing I can do but wait. And use all my resources to make sure the casualties are kept to a minimum. Keep the pawns on the table.”

“It’s all a game to you?” he asked. “That’s all we are to you? Pawns? Moving where you see fit? Who are you playing against, pray tell?”

Hawke sighed again, trying to get back her composure. “I don’t know. Figure of speech. What do you care? You kill hundreds of mages without flinching. You rob them of their minds and magic, all the while claiming it to be the will of the Maker. You don’t know His will.”

“Neither do you,” he countered. He moved towards the door. “Well, I’m leaving. We’ll get nowhere tonight. I apologize, but whatever you summoned me back for isn’t happening. I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Cullen felt flushed but was beginning to calm down again. It felt right to leave now, before he would say or do something he would regret. Her offer lingered in his heart. But he had to stand by his word, else he was nothing. Without his word or his honour, he was nothing.

“Wait!” Hawke strode quickly towards him. “Thank you. For respecting me. Even if I wish you would respect me less.”

Cullen half-smiled. “You’re welcome, Mistress Hawke. Or Amell. I remember what you told me so many weeks ago when we first met. And I’m not about to overstep that one rule of yours.”

“What rule?” said Hawke cocking her head at him. He loved it when she did that.

“You don’t take Templars in your den, do you?” he reminded her.

Hawke chuckled slightly and strode even nearer, their arms touched and he could feel her radiating heat. He stared down at her biting her lower lip and imaging it being replaced by his own. She purred. “Well, we’re not in my den now, are we?”

Cullen didn’t know if he was the one who went for it, or if it was her, but suddenly, their lips had locked together. Her face was in his hands. She was warm, so warm it was unbearable. He put his hands on her, desperate to feel, to know every curve. His hands wandered down to her hips, her ass which he couldn’t help but squeeze. She smiled into his mouth and rewarded him with her tongue, slipping in between his lips, conquering him. It was wrong, so wrong, so against his morals, so against his Templar training, but in this moment, morals and the Order could go fuck themselves. He wanted this. Lust won over duty.

It wasn’t his first time. There was a secret tradition among the Templar recruits, where upon the eve of your initiation, you would lose your virginity to another recruit. He’d been with a female recruit, her name was lost in his memory, but they’d shared the night exploring and learning. The morning after, just before their initiation, they promised to never speak of it again. Then they went their separate ways and he hadn’t thought about her until now. He wondered if she remembered him at all.

She pulled his shirt over his head. He returned the favour tugging her modest dress off her to see those round, pert breasts peeking out at him in the half-lit room. While he was distracted, she pushed against him he fell and she pounced on him, quickly removing her silken trousers as she did. She ground against his groin, and his own trousers suddenly felt too tight. Thankfully she soon made short work of them. He rolled her over onto her back and continued to kiss her fiercely, all while gently exploring her chest, stomach, hips, placing his fingers in between her legs, she moaned and pulled him in deeper.

He had never felt as happy or lucky as he did right now. Her hands were everywhere, touching everywhere, lips caressing where they could, tongues darting in and out of each other’s mouths, legs hooking onto hips, rolling over, feeling, hurting, aching. It was so dream-like Cullen doubted it was even real. Perhaps the Desire demon had ensnared him again? But here she was, fangless, no purple glow, the Spider Queen, wanting him. Wanting to be consumed by him. He wondered if they would do this again or if tonight was all she would give him. If this was all he could get, so be it. There is no hope of resisting now and if he only had one night he’d consider himself lucky until the day he died. She nudged him onto his back, straddled him, took his full length inside her, and all other thoughts fled as he relished the marvellously beautiful woman on top of him.

Their love-making was passionate, desperate, like clinging to life aboard a ship on a stormy sea. He never wanted it to end. The flow of the room changed with every sigh, every moan, and every touch. When it was over, they laid quietly facing each other but without touching. She looked calm, serene, like a burden had been lifted off her. Her purple eyes stared into his. He never wanted it to end, and wondered if the mighty Spider felt the same way. Would she cast him aside now, that she’d gotten what she wanted? The thought seared at his heart before he’d even asked her because he knew what the answer might be. He opened his mouth to say something, but their tender moment was interrupted by a hasty knock on the door.

“Mistress! Master Anders is here to see you!”

Chapter Text

“I’ll just be a minute!” cried Hawke and quickly got out of bed. She waved frantically at Cullen. “Get out, use my passage into Darktown. I’ll signal my boys to keep you safe.”

“What… wait!” Cullen stammered as Hawke helped him get dressed as best she could, tugging his shirt over his head and fetching his pants from a dark corner. He hopped around trying to get his boots on, while wondering why he had to hide when Hawke had instigated this in the first place. But he didn’t want her to get hurt, least of all by Anders, he remembered what she’d said about Anders throwing a fit if he knew she had company. Hawke pushed him around and dragged him down the stairs as if the house was on fire. His heart raced, not only from the sudden sprint, but also from the pain of rejection. He was something bad she wanted to hide.

But Hawke was too stressed to care, it seemed. She showed him a cellar door, and gave him a key. “This opens a passage into Darktown. Give it back at your earliest convenience. You can send for someone in the Coterie or Carta…” When she saw his hurt expression and slumping shoulders, her tense eyes softened. “Sorry. We’ll get to talking after …”

“Mistress?” yelled Bodahn again. “Shall I let him in?”

Cullen made a move as to kiss her goodbye, but she stopped him by putting a hand on his chest He paused unwilling to leave without some kind of promise that he would see her again. “I’ll see you soon?”
Hawke nodded promptly. Her finger began to glow and she drew it swiftly over his cheek. He didn’t see it, but he knew it must have left some mark on him. It prickled, like he’d been burned by stinging nettle. “I’ll send for you when I have the time. Now, go.” Then she turned away from him and shouted at Bodahn. “Yes, let him in!”

Cullen’s heart sank but did as he was asked and disappeared down to the cellar. The passage led first into a vault, and then into the room where he first met her, her “den” as she called it, which was dark and cold without her presence. He descended down the stairs he’d noticed the first time, and was met outside the doors by a couple of Carta assassins.

“The sign,” said one of them and pointed at his cheek.

“We’ll get you back to the Gallows, Templar, but no further” said the other. He pulled out a cloth from his pocket and wiped away the mark on Cullen’s cheek. The prickling immediately stopped.

“Fine,” said Cullen annoyed and followed them into the dark undercity streets. It was quiet, still the middle of the night, but here and there he would hear people shouting, fighting, crying and other things, but he tried to pay them no attention. The dwarves moved quickly and soon they had reached the harbour from which he could get a ferry across to the Gallows. The dwarves scurried off disappearing into the night.

Cullen was left standing on the shore, wondering whether he should be offended, or lucky that he escaped being caught by Anders. Once again, he felt like a spell was lifted off him as he boarded the ferry and let the ferryman drag him across the bay. What had happened, exactly? Was it even real? It had certainly felt real, his whole body felt relaxed, but his mind had been clouded by something. Was it poison in the tea? Was it her presence, and now that it was gone, he was released?

He walked in a daze back up to his room and fell into bed. His heart stopped racing after saying a quick prayer to the Maker and his eyes fell shut for a few hours before the bell summoned him to morning prayer and line-up. He cursed his lack of sleep and rolled over in bed, wishing he could slip back into the fade . But his head had begun racing and there was no stopping it. He knew he had to tell Meredith something, anything, to keep her out of the Spider’s business. But the missing mages and Templars were still a priority. He suspected more would be found missing this morning after head-count at line-up, especially since Anders had been away with Prawley, doing something important, in Hawke’s words. Cullen thought that as he was already awake, he might as well attend the morning prayers before the line-up. He got back up, rubbing his face with water in an attempt to sharpen up again, got dressed and went to the small Chantry at the Gallows, along with some other knights looking as tired as he did. He didn’t see his fellows from last night, not that it mattered really, morning prayers weren’t obligatory, and the Templars weren’t actually required until line-up. But he felt morning prayers would help him clear his head for the day.

At the line-up in the courtyard, Meredith eyed each Templar carefully. He looked at the other Templars nervously but saw his young associates from last night weren’t there either. He assumed they might be hungover or overslept as a result of the late-night fundraiser. He hoped that Meredith would indulge them as they were in fact ordered to go to the fundraiser, but as she pursed her lips in disapproval of their empty slots in the line, he knew they would be in trouble. When Meredith reached Cullen, the last one in the line-up, she tilted her head to the side to indicate him to follow. He nodded to show he understood.

“You all have your duties, dismissed!” she yelled out and the Templars dispersed.

Cullen and Meredith went to her office. Her face looked as stern as always. On the desk rested a few rolled-up papers.

“Good morning, Knight-Commander,” he greeted as cheerily as he could.

“Rough night?” she asked. “You got back later than the others, or so I am informed.”

Her blue eyes pierced his and for a moment he felt completely naked. He felt like she already knew. Cullen blushed, hoping she couldn’t read his mind. “The lady Amell wished to discuss the transfer of funds to the Order and she didn’t need the others for that.”

“I see.” Meredith trailed off and shut the door behind her. “I appreciate everything you do for the Order. Maker knows we need more loyal Templars like you, now more than ever.”

Loyal Templars to sleep with rebellious mages, you mean? he thought sarcastically.

“As you say, Knight-Commander,” said Cullen, dutifully standing straight in attention, even if he felt unworthy of such trust right now. “Was there something you needed?”

“As you perhaps noticed, your other subordinates didn’t attend the line-up,” Meredith said sternly. “There will have to be consequences. I’ll summon them after our meeting.”

Cullen swallowed. He knew where she was coming from, but sometimes he thought she was too harsh. This time, it felt unfair. “If I may, Knight-Commander? They were out late last night, per your orders. Perhaps you could overlook their absence just this once?”

Meredith paused briefly and squinted at him. “If I overlook absence just this once, as you say, others would take advantage. No. They know their duty to the Order and to the Maker. Late nights are no excuses for skipping duty. Else I would never attend line-up. I stay up longer than I have to each night.”

“I’m sorry, I only meant to…” Cullen stammered instantly. “Not to diminish …”

“I know what you meant,” said Meredith, but she brushed aside his remark with a wave of her hand. “There is another concern, however. Where is Ser Fridrick? The outer guard tells me he didn’t return with the others and he haven’t been seen since he left for the fundraiser.”

Cullen felt a surge of panic, his heart seemed to tighten in his chest. “He disappeared in the middle of dinner. You haven’t heard from him?”

“No.” Meredith sighed wearily. “Add him to the list. This non-ending, consistent list of Templars gone. Too bad with such a talent as well. I trust you’ll take back the case of Sers Frend and Cauchemar as well?”

Cullen clenched his fists and bit his tongue. He’d sworn not to tell Meredith about Hawke’s business. Did that include spilling the beans about Cauchemar? If Meredith knew he was just a smokescreen, she could stop searching for him. Or would it hurt Hawke for her to know? If Meredith were told Cauchemar wasn’t a real person, she would have more questions, like how did that work, and how did they get that power. Then again, if he blamed Prawley or Anders, the heat would be taken off Hawke. Or would that still harm Hawke, seeing as she was associated with Anders? Did Meredith know that? But he had to tell her something and this was a safer bet than anything else he knew.

“I found out Cauchemar is but a pseudonym,” he told her. “They use blood-magic to transform a person into another and take on a new name.”

“Then who is Cauchemar really?” said Meredith, sounding less surprised than Cullen had expected. Maybe she had known mages possessed that capability. Maybe she was just that experienced.

“It’s Ser Prawley.” Cullen straightened up, anticipating her response.

“Prawley?” she repeated and her eyes glossed over, as if she were thinking intently and staring into space. “Are you sure? One of the missing Templars?”

“Yes,” said Cullen. “To be honest, it wasn’t really a huge loss to the Order. He had become disillusioned with our cause. My friend Ser Emmer told me Ser Prawley abandoned his post on several occasions.”

“It would make sense”, Meredith agreed. “Also, if he could transform himself into a different person, he might be several of the missing Templars since that first break-out when this all began.”

Cullen nodded. “Indeed. I have yet to find the others, apart from Ser Frend who Hawke confirmed really had been kidnapped and tortured, much like myself.”

Meredith pursed her lips in a disapproving way. “I hope for her sake she returns the body so that we might see Ser Frend off to the Maker.”

“Allow me to inquire whether that’s possible,” Cullen suggested, hoping for an excuse to go see the Spider again.

Meredith shook her head and his stomach fell. Had he been too enthusiastic; had she seen through everything? “You’re not allowed down there anymore. If those ruffians who took Ser Frend gets a hold of you again…”

It took everything in him not to breathe a sigh of relief. Her concern was for his safety, not his heart.

“I believe the Spider wishes me well and wants me unharmed,” he hazarded unwilling to be barred from Hawke’s door.

“Very well,” said Meredith considering. “Go.”

Just as he turned to leave, thinking he was off the hook, Meredith hissed “Wait!”

Cullen looked over his shoulder, panicked that she had figured out his motives. Somehow he kept a straight face, even as he blushed. “Knight-Commander?”

“How did you acquire the information about Ser Cauchemar being Ser Prawley?” said Meredith. “Did the Spider Queen tell you?”

He had wondered slightly how much she knew about the three names being connected, if she knew Hawke and Lady Amell were the same person or if she knew Hawke was the Spider Queen. He felt certain, at least, she knew about Hawke being the Spider since she’d used those names interchangeably since this whole affair begun. But if she got wind of the Spider also being Lady Amell, it would all come to a head. As such, he was careful of which name he used when talking about her, in her different roles. Lady Amell had nothing to do with the undercity.

“I, uh, yes,” he responded. “After I discussed the funds transfer with Lady Amell, I had a run-in with the Spider. She felt bad about my kidnapping, and she had answers to my questions.”

Well, it wasn’t a lie. He had run into her, in more ways than one. He felt like a kid looking for loopholes, but hoped it wouldn’t show.

Meredith was quiet, it felt like she saw through the whole thing, but if she did, she said nothing of it. “Right. Back to work, then, Knight-Captain.”

Cullen let out a sigh of relief and went straight for the Gallows harbour. He ignored the other Templars around him, passed by the creepy Tranquil salesmen and waited patiently for the ferry.

Having been ordered to not go to Darktown to see her, Cullen went straight for her Hightown estate. The city was just waking up, the usual guardsmen posted at almost every corner. He admired the nerve of this Aveline Vallen, taking over and getting things done safely, neutralizing corruption in the ranks. He also knew she was one of Hawke’s closest friends, and wondered if maybe they had made the city safer together, keeping their respective enemies off each other’s backs. In the shadows in between the guardsmen, however, were the usual carta or coterie members, gathering information and guarding the Spider’s web.

Knocking at the door, he waited, swaying on his heels. The dwarf Bodahn opened it. Seeing Cullen’s armour first, he looked frightened, but as their eyes met, he relaxed. “Oh, Knight-Captain Cullen, is it? Welcome back. Did you leave something behind?”

“Good morning.” Cullen bowed his head a little. “I was hoping Lady Amell the younger was awake and able to see me.”

Bodahn looked over his shoulder hesitantly. Cullen could hear faint shouting from within. “My mistress is not currently available, but if you wish, you may come in and wait for her. I’ll fetch some refreshments while you wait.”

As Bodahn opened the door wider and bowed, Cullen entered. The house was eerily quiet. The shouting he’d heard had stopped. He felt an ominous presence, almost like a demon, and his hand went straight for his old ally, the sword. He could hear the deep, heavy ticking of an old clock somewhere. The fireplace in the next chamber crackled irregularly. Bodahn had somehow slipped past him and disappeared into one of the doors. Without so many people around, he could inspect the mansion in detail. The floors were exceptionally clean, almost too clean, as if they were scrubbed furiously each and every day. In between the tiles he could see missed stains of something red, maybe blood that had seeped into the cracks making them impossible to clean. But to the naked eye, without a second look, it was unnoticeable.

“Here we are,” said Bodahn suddenly standing above Cullen, tray in hand. “Dear me, why do you linger in the hall, Knight-Captain? Come, come, sit!”

He ushered Cullen into the larger room and almost forcibly pushed him into a comfortable armchair by the fireplace. He pressed a large tea mug into Cullen’s hand and set down a plate of biscuits on the armrest.

“My mistress will be with you shortly.” The dwarf bowed excessively and disappeared again.

Cullen found himself at a loss. Sure, he could sip the tea and nibble on the biscuits, but this wasn’t some social call. He was here on very urgent, serious business. And also, perhaps, maybe, hopefully … to get close to her. Last night was still fresh in his mind and his body longed to be close to her again. But the eerie, malevolent presence in the house made his skin crawl. It was too quiet. There wasn’t even any sound coming from the street, which would be packed with merchants, nobles, priests and others at this hour. The walls seemed to close in on him and the ceiling seemed lower somehow, as if the room was being squeezed from the outside. He tried to ignore it, but something foul did not want him here.

After about twenty minutes, the unseen, heavily ticking clock struck ten, with loud banging that echoed throughout the mansion. Cullen jumped to his feet in surprise spilling the last of his tea and dropping the uneaten biscuits on the floor. Quickly thereafter, there was the sound of loud shouting and shortly after that, a door slamming shut. The unnerving presence was gone. Cullen felt really out of place but couldn’t leave now. The sweet elven serving girl appeared in a doorway with means to clean up his mess, while Cullen stood there, apologizing profusely.

“It’s alright, serah,” said the young girl and mopped up his tea. She cleaned up the mug and threw the biscuits in the fire. “Has anyone received you, serah? Lady Leandra?”

“I’m waiting for your mistress, Lady Marion,” Cullen said.

The elf widened her eyes in apparent terror. “She’ll be with you after her guest departs.”

“It sounded like he just did,” noted Cullen.

He’d just barely said this, when Hawke, flustered, red-eyed and red-faced quickly tip-toed down the stairs. When she saw Cullen, she halted in her tracks and her mouth fell open. She stared at him wide-eyed, and if he didn’t know better, he would say she looked scared.

“Cullen…” she whispered and looked over her shoulder. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“I came to retrieve the bodies of those stolen from us,” he said business-like. “Like you promised.”

“Oriana, get back to the kitchens,” Hawke ordered the young elven girl, who quickly acquiesced. Once she was out of earshot, she took his arm firmly. “Cullen, I didn’t mean right away. It’s not safe for you to be here right now.”

“Why?” Cullen asked. “You said it’s not safe for me to look for you in Darktown. What happened with Anders?”

Hawke rubbed her face. She was still out of make-up but had dressed appropriately. Her hair was loose and untended. But she looked more beautiful than the last time he’d seen her. That was always the case with her.

“He found out about us,” she said, new tears welling up in her eyes. “He was … not pleased. Said he’d kill you next time he saw you, or if you ever dared to come close to me again. Please, Cullen, just leave. Don’t ever contact me again, if you value your life.”
Hawke slumped down into the armchair where Cullen had just sat. She curled up her knees under her arms and looked briefly like small child.

“Did he hurt you?” Cullen asked, ignoring the danger to his own life for now. First things first.

Hawke shook her head. “He didn’t touch me. But he left. That hurt.”

Cullen both wanted to console her and scold her for being such an idiot when it came to Anders. He didn’t know where to begin and beneath it all was the simmering anger at her for tossing him away like a broken toy.

“Are you still going back to him?” he asked as neutrally as possible to conceal his disdain for the lunatic blood-mage she was in love with.

Hawke pressed her lips together. “It’s my own damn fault. If I hadn’t cheated on him with you, you wouldn’t be in danger. He was right to be upset. I just don’t want him to kill you. It’s that damn demon that …”

“It’s that damn demon that controls him, is it?” Cullen was fuming. “Or is it Prawley? It’s always someone else. Not him. When are you going to stop, Hawke? When are you going to realize you can’t resort to blood-magic? It always ends badly. Are you honestly not seeing your own role in all this?”

“Yes, of course I am…” She trailed off.

Cullen seized her silent moment for his own. “The minute your blood-mage returned, you threw me out on the street like I was nothing. Like last night never happened.”

“You’re not nothing!” she spat. “And don’t say that, Anders is more than a blood-mage. And I told you …”

“Take some responsibility for once.” He scoffed. “Rectify your wrongs. Take a stand, for the Maker’s sake! Stop treating people like they’re expendable.”

He shut himself up. He could see that his words hit her heart like an arrow. She was already weakened from her fight with Anders and now he had picked another fight. She got to her feet, standing proudly, still shorter than him, but ever the master of the room. Her power oozed off her like steam off a flaming hot sword. The Spider was in the room. Somehow, he still had a hard time ignoring her graceful body under that dress, seeing every curve of her. Even as she was seconds away from striking him, he wanted her now more than ever. He resisted, and forced himself to believe it was her magic that made him into this wanton lecher. He was better than this.

“Only my wrongdoing, is it?” she hissed. “Where was your responsibility last night, huh? You were waiting for an invitation. And you took it without a second thought. That was all you wanted: to bed the Spider. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Cullen growled. “That was not all I wanted. I won’t deny I’ve wanted you since first we met, but I saw you. Your true self. What you don’t even show Anders anymore. You told me as much. You wanted me, too. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“You self-righteous bastard!” Hawke shouted. She shoved him lightly. “You’re no different than any other Templar. Anders was right. You all take what you want, kill those you want, enslave those you want, and crush all free will!”

“If that’s true then we have that in common, at least,” Cullen snarled. He refrained from laying so much as a finger on her, from fear of prickling himself on her electric skin. Her defences were definitely up once more. “Perhaps I’ll stay here until your lover returns and we can duel for your favour, to the victor go the spoils, right?”

For a slight second, she looked panicked, scared he would be true to his word and actually slay the love of her life. He felt disgusted by himself, letting his anger and jealousy get the better of him. She then regained her composure and her eyes seared into his with an iron-clad will.

“You do as you must, but may the Maker help you if you do,” she said, resorting to the dangerous calm she’d had when he’d tried to kill her during the party. And truthfully, that was even more terrifying than her shouting and shoving. Her eyes sparkled with purple magic, daring him to draw his blade.

Cullen knew he wouldn’t be safe if he killed either her or Anders. He backed down.

His feelings were all over the place, and he didn’t know which one to listen to. He’d gone from wanting to bed her, to kill her, to reconnect, to console, be a friend, be her enemy, all this over the last few months. He was still furious with her, sad for her, scared of her, deeply in love with her, desired her, jealous of Anders for having such an amazing woman and treating her like garbage. Then it dawned on him. She was treating him like she was being treated by Anders. It was all she knew. And before his eyes, a small woman appeared in place of the Spider; an insecure young woman, begging for acceptance without words. The Spider vanished, as did his overwhelming desire for her. Now, all that was left was the guilt for having shamed her like that, and a wish to console her.

“This is getting us nowhere,” he said finally. “The less contact we have the better. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to complicate things for you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hawke sighed. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I’ll send whatever Templar bodies they have stowed away. They deserve a proper pyre. But you should keep out of Hightown and Darktown for now. It’s not safe for you.”

“I appreciate it,” said Cullen graciously. “Will you be alright?”

“I think so. I just wish I had someone to talk to. Mother doesn’t know about these things. You’re not safe here and the less you know, the better. I can’t tell my people, then they’ll think I’m weak. And my brother and sister are … gone.”

Still reeling from their fight, he wanted nothing more than to leave and never come back. But he also still cared about her and he hated seeing her so sad.

“I believe Varric and your other friends will be there for you if you just reach out,” offered Cullen. “At least Varric will. I talked to him and he deeply regrets leaving things between you the way you did. Try and reconcile with him, will you?”

Hawke pondered for a moment. “Maybe I will. Thank you. Again, I’m sorry about last night.”

Cullen felt hot, but didn’t know if it was a bodily reaction to the memory of last night, or if he was overdressed in her very stuffy chamber. “I will always treasure the memory. But I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, if that is what you have with Anders. I won’t kill either of you.”

“You wouldn’t succeed anyway.” Hawke followed him to the door. “Just … don’t tell anyone about us. It’s enough that Anders knows.”

“You have my word,” said Cullen. “I stand to lose as much as you do if this comes out, you know.”

There was tension between them still, but he was unsure what kind. He had nothing to offer her. There wasn’t even anything he could say to make everything better. He wanted to do right by the Order and her. But seeing as she would rather get hurt by Anders than to be happy with Cullen, he would respect her wishes. It was what he wanted; to be with her. To make her happy. But it was something he could never do. It wasn’t like they could be together publicly anyway, either as Lady Amell, Hawke or the Spider. She was a noble, and a Darktown crime boss both and he was a Templar, he had his duties.

Hawke smiled through her flushed face and her bittersweet tears, as if she had read his thoughts. “I wish things were different.”

“Me too.”

Then he left.

Chapter Text

Arriving back at the Gallows, Cullen felt empty, There was a sinking feeling in his heart and he had a headache. He realized he hadn’t gotten his daily dose of Lyrium, and proceeded to get some at the Gallows. As he thanked the supplier, he turned around and saw someone very peculiar at the other end of the Gallows courtyard. It was a man, his form tall and bulky which was evident even underneath that dark cloak he wore. He lurked in the shade, looking around for something. Cullen quickly ingested the Lyrium, whereupon his headache instantly lifted. He threw away the bottle and stalked the suspicious figure from deeper within the shade behind the pillars. It seemed the cloaked man avoided contact with senior Templars, which Cullen guessed might mean he was a mage. He got a bad feeling. Was it possibly Anders, looking for Cullen, to get his revenge? But Cullen quickly realized it wasn’t. The man under the cloak was taller than Anders and more muscular. Last time he’d seen Anders, he’d been haggard and thin, with a sleek figure but imposing nonetheless. This man was immense, as if he was built like a tank. Like a Templar.

The cloaked man looked over his shoulder at Cullen and crept over to the other side, where there were even more shade. That was when Cullen saw what he was heading for. A group of mage women wearing robes stood in a circle discussing something. They had no staves since that wasn’t allowed in the courtyard. They were of different ages, the youngest no more than fifteen, the oldest about forty, named Salima. Cullen had seen them both around, but the young girl was new and he couldn’t remember her name. She looked flustered and confused about something, when the figure snuck up to them. He asked them something, whereupon the other women scattered and the teenage apprentice was left alone. Cullen drew closer to hear what they were saying, but to no avail. As soon as his echoing footsteps and clinking armour approached them, the girl gasped and ran, and the figure tried to sneak past him. But seeing as they were about the same height and build, Cullen easily caught him by the forearm.

“What are you up to?” said Cullen harshly.

The cloaked man pulled his cloak tighter around his face so that Cullen couldn’t see it, and wrung his arm out of Cullen’s grasp. When he spoke, Cullen didn’t recognize his voice. “Nothing, Knight-Captain, ser. Just seeing to the wellbeing of your charges, is all.”

The figure hurried away and Cullen hoped that would be the end of that. But he was mistaken.

Later that day, the very same man appeared again in the shadows, this time approaching the young Templar recruits. Cullen had retired to his office to finish up some dragging reports, when he saw the man through the window overlooking the courtyard. No-one else seemed to notice, or care, but he flew to his feet, armed himself and ran down to the courtyard, passing by some very confused guards. The man spoke softly to the recruits until Cullen came near.

“You again? Keep away, serah,” said Cullen angrily.

The man raised his hands in defeat. “Apologies. I was under the assumption that the Gallows was a public place. And that talking was allowed?”

“You are dismissed, recruits,” Cullen barked at the young Templars. “Leave this place, or I’ll have your head, serah.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong, Knight-Captain,” said the man, Cullen could hear the sarcastic smile in his voice. The man’s hood fell away and Cullen saw part of his face. He realized where he’d seen the man before.

“Prawley?” he hissed in disbelief. His hands fell to his sides.

Prawley pulled down his hood entirely and revealed himself. “Good day to you too, Knight-Captain.”

But Cullen was struck by shock and couldn’t really believe what he was seeing. “What are you doing here? We thought you dead!”

“Here I am, not dead, as you can see,” said Prawley. He wasn’t the same anymore. His skin was paler, his eyes darker, and he had dark lines under them. Other than that, he was in good shape. He wore no armour under his cloak, but he had a dagger strapped to his side. He smiled wickedly. There was also a misty, red-pinkish light coming out of the corners of his eyes which made Cullen suspect Hawke was right; Prawley had been possessed by a demon.

Cullen snapped back to the moment after the initial astonishment of seeing Prawley out in the open, and he was sickened by the man. “The Spider Queen has told me all about you and your dirty tricks. Leave the Gallows and never come back. Or I’ll have you arrested.”

“On what charges, Ser Cullen?” said Prawley amusingly. “I haven’t done anything wrong. Nothing you can prove, anyhow.”

Cullen huffed. “The Spider told me plenty to assure you the hangman’s noose.”

“The Spider?” Prawley repeated. “She wouldn’t dare to testify. She’s holed up in her den day and night. She’s got no power over me. I can do what I please, including recruiting people from right under your nose.” Prawley looked over at another group of young girls with a revolting grin. “Such lovely creatures too…”

“You’re disgusting,” spat Cullen. “Leave.”

“Good to see she’s got friends in more sociable places than the Undercity,” taunted Prawley. “Imagine having the Knight-Captain in your pocket. She truly is a genius, a master of manipulation. Did she tell you the best part? Or were you not that important?”

“What part would that be?”

“Ooh, you’re in for a shock then,” said Prawley gleefully. “Let’s just say it has to do with the culprit behind the death of your precious Ser Emmer. Ask the Spider and tell her I said hello. Take care now.”

Cullen flinched at the name, but before he could stop him, Prawley made his way towards the harbour, pulling up his hood. Cullen lingered, wondering what Prawley would have meant by that. Who was responsible for Emmers’s death? Did Prawley mean to imply Hawke had anything to do with it, as Cullen himself had suspected at first?

~

The following day, when three more mages (including the young girl) and two Templars had gone missing, Prawley was back at the Gallows, this time looking over his shoulder in suspicion. Cullen had reported him to Meredith of course, and she had ordered him to follow him, to see what he was up to and where he could be hiding. They agreed not to tell anyone, to prevent the plan from spreading and reaching Prawley’s ears.

Cullen got dressed in more civil clothing and armour that afternoon, a thick shirt under a leather studded chest plate, and awaited Prawley at the Gallows harbour. After his day of skulking around and recruiting was over, Prawley got on the ferry and headed for Lowtown. Cullen stalked him in the evening hours, both of them blending into the crowds, looking like average citizens. He saw the usual vendors packing up, the weary townsfolk shuffling home or to the pub, but Prawley passed by them all and headed for Darktown, down the long stairs and into the blackness. Cullen was right behind him but made sure he was unseen and unfollowed himself.

Prawley made his way towards the hut concealing the secret entrance to the Gallows, looking around, before going to the back of the hut and opening the hatch. Cullen watched as he slipped into it without a sound, no doubt heading for the huge, underground room where Emmer had died. After a few minutes, he snuck after Prawley down the hole and into the tunnel, closing the hatch. He could hear distant chatter echoing, laughter and the voices of several people up ahead, both men and women. He was careful not to make a sound himself, to get the element of surprise. The tunnel was dark and closed in on him, but he knew it was just the claustrophobic sensation of having an entire city over you. His heart raced a hundred beats per minute, each step drawing him closer to absolute disaster.

As Cullen was close to arriving at the end, he only heard two voices, the others had been silenced or left the room. Prawley was talking to what sounded like a young girl who responded anxiously.

“Easy path getting here, eh?” Prawley said in a menacing voice.

“Yes, Ser, it was no trouble,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Don’t you think I deserve some sort of … compensation for telling you about the escape tunnel?” said Prawley. “Now, now, girl. Don’t be frightened. I won’t hurt you.”

Cullen heard the girl gasp followed a loud thud. He hurried his steps and arrived to see Pawley lying on top of the girl from the courtyard. He held her hands to the ground with one hand, while the other was unbuckling his belt, all the while keeping a stomach-turning expression on his face. Cullen’s chest tightened and he felt a surge of rage filling him up to the brim.

“Hey!” Cullen yelled and ran down the stairs, pulling Prawley to his feet and punching him in the face. He fell to the ground on all fours. The girl crawled away in tears to seek refuge behind Cullen.

Prawley wiped the blood off his face and sneered. He got back up on his feet, a little unsteady but still menacing. “Attacking an unarmed civilian? That’s not very knightly, Ser Cullen.”

“I have enough evidence to arrest you now, Prawley.” Cullen pointed his sword at Prawley’s chest. The girl got to her feet and stood back, crying and shaking. “Surrender and I might persuade Meredith to go easy on you.”

“Arrest?” said Prawley angrily spitting blood on the ground. “Don’t think so. Aid me!”

He raised his arms in the air and fled the other way. Out of the dirt came two monstrous creatures, which Cullen quickly identified as shades. They were over two meters tall, with glowing faces underneath hooded heads. They ripped at Cullen with sharp claws but his warrior instincts saved him and he chopped one of them off. They moaned and cried, exuding smoke, hissing and attacking relentlessly. The girl got to her feet and waved her hands summoning fire from the air. It caught one of the creatures’ mantle and it screamed unnaturally, disappearing into the dust again. In retaliation, the other one hit Cullen to the ground so that he lost his breath, he scrambled to his feet just barely avoiding being decapitated before swinging his sword in retaliation. The girl tried to help, but she was inexperienced and scared. Cullen struck the creature three times until it lost control and fell to a lying position, then he stabbed it through the head, whereby it followed it’s comrade into the earth.

Cullen breathed hard, sheathing his sword and looked around for the poor girl. She cowered.

“Please don’t hurt me, Ser,” she cried and fell to her knees. She was dirty and shaken but otherwise alright.

“I won’t,” said Cullen and offered her help up.

She rubbed the dirt and sand off her robes. “That man, he… I thought he would help me. I came here with several others, but he only wanted me. They had already left and I …”

She buried her face in her hands. Cullen’s heart softened. “Where are you from?”

“Starkhaven,” she sobbed. “They took me away from my family and decided the Starkhaven circle was too close. They moved me here. I miss my family. My house. My dogs…”

She trailed off and for a moment, Cullen sympathized with her. He also missed his home. And this girl had helped him in the fight. As far as the Circle was concerned, she, and the other escapees, where long gone. He decided to give this one a pass. She reminded him of a girl he’d once known, who’d been killed during her Harrowing. It had been his first attendance, and he’d been honoured to keep the Circle tower safe, but after slaying the abomination and seeing it return to the sweet, young woman he’d known, it had left a bad feeling in the back of his head, like an itch he couldn’t reach. This one, though, he had the chance to help.

“Go,” he said, handing her a small knife to defend herself with, other than her magic.

“What?” she whispered. “Is this a test? I leave and you kill me?”

“No, you have my word,” he replied, patting her shoulder. She recoiled at the touch and stared confusedly at him. “Go. Run. Never come near Kirkwall again.”

“Thank you, Ser!” she cried and put her arms around him, whereby she took off in the direction of the tunnel Cullen had just exited.

Cullen stayed for a moment and assessed the room. There were at least five other doors and tunnels to this place, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen any of them until now. He wondered which one led to the Gallows and where the other mages had gone. There must have been several ways to exit the room and appear in other places in the city, or outside of it. He decided to gather up some Templars when he got back to the Gallows and investigate this area. There would be no more breakouts if they kept this place with all its exits well-guarded.

“That was kind.”

Cullen spun around at the sudden voice and discerned Hawke coming out from one of the dark passages. She was dressed in fighting gear, a short robe, a breastplate and a long metal staff in her hand. On her forehead there was a violet crystal imbedded in her skin, perhaps some sort of rune. Last time they were here together, he’d just caught her standing over Emmer’s dead body. Which made him think of what Prawley had said the day before. Even if Prawley had lied, or implied something else, Cullen felt suspicious of her. He watched her warily and made no move either to leave or speak before she did.

“Why did you let her go?” she asked. “I thought you Templars brought back those you found into your fold.”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head. “She was young and scared. I didn’t want …” He sighed. “She was traumatized by Prawley. You were right. He set her free to molest her. How many others?”

Hawke sighed also and stared off into the distance. “Countless. Maker knows what that man is capable of now.”

Cullen looked at the floor were Emmer had been killed, her floating dead body appearing in his mind. “Did you kill Ser Emmer?”

Hawke’s mouth fell open. “What? Who…? What gave you that idea?”

“I had a chance to talk to Prawley at the Gallows yesterday when he was … recruiting escapees,” said Cullen sternly. “He implied you had something to do with it, or at least knew who the culprit was. She had no mark on her. It was like Varric said, she looked like she had literally been scared to death. Or possibly killed by means of blood-magic.”

Hawke shook her head. “Now is not the time. We need to get you out of here…”

“Who?” Cullen bellowed. “You know something and now is exactly the time! She can’t have died in vain. And you said you never killed innocents. But she was. She had nothing to do with the investigation. It was her first field mission and someone in your ranks killed her.”

“Cullen …”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” he tried. “You misled me. I should have known. I should have gone with my instinct and arrested you on the spot!”

“It was Anders, alright?” interrupted Hawke, her voice breaking with guilt. “I arrived too late to stop it. But I couldn’t let him take the fall for it. We thought Emmer was there to arrest us.”

“Stop defending him!” Cullen yelled, approaching her. She lifted her staff. But he didn’t attack her, he just grabbed her by the upper arms and she stared into his eyes. “Just turn him in so we can make him Tranquil. We won’t execute him, even if he does deserve it.”

“When are you Templars going to get it in your heads that mages feel Tranquillity is as bad as or worse than being killed?” Hawke shouted as she twisted out of his hands. “That’s why you must understand how so many of the mages want out. They are being treated as slaves and you act as if you’re doing them a service! No wonder so many of us seeks the aid of spirits.”

They both fell silent. They both knew the other one’s perspective, because it was evident. But he felt his services were necessary for all, to prevent blood-magic and demons from taking over. He himself had never treated the mages poorly. As he looked over at her, he noticed the purple glow in her eyes and thought of a question he hadn’t dared to even think about before. It must be true though, how else could she ensnare men with a single thought, entice Cullen and others to do her bidding, and take her side, appear powerful and menacing even though she was a relatively tiny person with lots of compassion. At times it shone through, at times she was the Spider Queen, with those purple glowing eyes, which otherwise was purple but did not glow.

“Are you harbouring a demon?”

Hawke looked at her feet. The answer was so clear in the way she shrugged and refused to meet his gaze that she didn’t need to say anything.

“Since when?”

“She came to me when I first started,” Hawke admitted. “Nobody would take me seriously, a young refugee girl with nothing.”

“So it was you who tortured me and…” The memory was like a dagger in his heart.

“No!” shouted Hawke instantly. “My spirit, she isn’t some evil force. She isn’t a demon of desire. That other one, the one who tortured you, is in league with Vengeance and Prawley’s Defiance. But my spirit, she’s one of companionship, of connection, perhaps in the romantic way, or for some, in a lustful way, but never malevolent. She comes out to protect me. She’s equally attractive and fierce. It’s hard to explain. When I feel safe, she’s not needed. When I’m threatened or need to appear dangerous, she comes out.”

Cullen looked in her eyes and saw the flicker of purple light die out. Did that mean she felt safe with him? But his past got to his heart and he remembered what those monsters had done in the Ferelden Circle. He remembered how he almost gave in to them, and how he did give in to the one in Hawke’s den.

He backed away and put a hand on the pommel of his sword. “You’re an abomination.”

“But not one of those monstrous things,” she quickly defended. “Not like Prawley.”

“Or Anders?” Cullen suggested. “No wonder they get along so well.”

“You don’t get to make that assessment,” said Hawke irritably. “Anders can control it. He’s done nothing dangerous, not like Prawley has. Everyone he’s set free, he has helped get to a ship, or a caravan, or hid in the forests outside of Kirkwall. If you would take my advice, hunt Prawley down and slay him. He’s the one who’s dangerous. You saw that yourself. That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Hawke stared at Cullen defiantly. He felt nonplussed. Again his feelings for her battled with his sense of duty. She pursed her lips at him and squinted as if to induce some sort of response to her statements. But the only thing he thought to do or say, was to take her face in his hands and press his lips against hers. At first she didn’t reciprocate, but then she pulled his body closer and thrust both her lips and her tongue into his. He was lost in her, lost in how long they were like this, it could’ve been minutes or hours. It felt both right and wrong, it was not instigated by her … spirit … but merely his desperation to prove to himself and to her that he was nothing more than a man, not a Templar, not her enemy, just a man who loved her despite her flaws. Despite the fact she might not love him back in the same way. He knew they might not ever be together. But oh, how he needed her.

Cullen pressed onto Hawke, his whole body trembling to be near her. The very fibre of him screamed her name. He tangled his fingers in her hair and pulled her deeper, harder. Her hips bucked at him, and her feet hooked behind his, tripping him on his back. She got on top of him and pulled off her armour and shirt of her torso. He removed his gloves and cupped her breast harshly to which she made a throaty, dark moan into his mouth. She sat back up, he followed, and she took off his armour and shirt as well, pressing her chest to his while kissing and biting his lips desperately. She combed his hair with her fingers and it felt enthralling when she scratched his scalp with her nails. He gently pulled off his pants and remaining armour pieces and she held herself up to do the same, but quickly came back down. He rolled her over so that she was lying in the sand and dirt, but he didn’t care. This time, he wanted it to last longer, but knew they had no time. So Cullen strummed his fingers in her core, finding her willing and eager. She drew him closer, down to her and let him in between her legs. He positioned himself and just before he entered, he looked at her, caressed her hair.

“You’re wonderful,” he whispered.

She smiled. With the help of her knees on the side of his hips she pulled him into herself and they both moaned in unison at the marvellous sensation. He stayed still for a short while, propped up on his elbows with his fingers in her hair, just revelling in the feeling of being connected like this with her, looking into her eyes as she coaxed him to continue moving, her hands slowly caressing his back, holding him steady against her body, nails digging into his skin in an equal amount of pain and pleasure. He pulled out, just to go back in again and revive the sensation, hitting a deep core within her, getting at something of a hurdle and when he did that again, she gasped. He tried it multiple times, he hadn’t gone that deep last time, as it seemed to excite her further. She wasn’t lying still anymore. Her hands moved without rest, achingly scratching at him, pulling his face down to hers to kiss him hard, sloppy as she also needed to breathe more frequently with each stroke he made. For him, it felt glorious, to be connected with her again and her soft, warm walls clenched at him so hard it felt like he was going to be spent too soon. But he held back, she hadn’t reached her peak yet. He made shorter movements, not pulling entirely out, but staying at her hurdle and went back and forth.

Then she gave a feral squeal and Cullen knew it was safe to finish. He had hoped to drag this out, but the sight, sound and sensation of her, was too much. She pulled him in for a harsh kiss as he moved faster and harder, fearing he might hurt her but she did not object. His strokes became long and fast and he soon joined her, spilling himself, it felt like he was filling her up to the brim. He fell on top of her and she held him. He tried not to squish her. They kissed again in between panting breaths, when finally, he had to pull out and stand up.

Their clothes were lying all around them and they quickly got dressed since this place was known to both Anders and Prawley.

“That was amazing.” He grieved that it had to end. To his mind, it might have also been the last time. But he dared not speak those words aloud.

Hawke exhaled. “I know.”

“Did it mean something to you?” he asked tentatively. He and Hawke both knew he didn’t mean their … deed, but their whole relationship or partnership or whatever they had.

“I was honest when I told you that you keep me honourable, grounded,” she said. “But I can’t leave Anders. He needs me.”

I need you too, he wanted to tell her but he didn’t. Instead he said “As I suspected” and turned away from her with every bit of willpower he had left.

She drew him in for an embrace and he never wanted to leave. He didn’t understand. She was so sure she wanted to be with Anders, yet she set up her web time and again and caught Cullen, then let him go. Maybe her feelings were as complicated as his. Maybe she wanted to have her cake and eat it too. Or perhaps she was proud, never wanting another to make that decision to pull away. It had to be her calling the shots. He didn’t know which it was. Maybe it was all of it. But one thing was for sure though, if it were up to him, he would never let her go back to Anders. The man was dangerous and he might get her to do something she wasn’t okay with.

She seemed to sense his hesitations. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this.”

“Neither do I, but I have to get Prawley,” he said reluctantly as he pulled away.

“Wait, I can supply you with means to kill him,” Hawke offered hastily. “I can’t use it, but perhaps you can. It needs a non-mage and nobody I know has the power to fight him. Maybe this … us… was the means to an end to Prawley. The Maker brought us together for this purpose.”

“How?” said Cullen cautiously. “Why didn’t you say anything about this before?”

“Come with me.” She reached out her hand and he took it.

Chapter Text

Hawke brought him back to her den, guarded by four masked Coterie members this time. She waved her staff at them and they dispersed, eyeing Cullen suspiciously as they passed. She led him through the wine cellar into her dark den, which she lit up with the wave of her hand. She reached underneath her desk and pulled out a thick tome, about the size of her torso, with surprising strength. Then she put it carefully on her desk and flipped the pages until she reached a blue crystal rune carved with old Tevinter symbols, glued to the page at the very core of the book. She carefully pried it out and handed it to Cullen. There was a spark as their fingers grazed each other but he ignored it and instead focused on the crystal rune. It was oddly warm, mostly clear, but in the centre there was something black, almost smoke-like that was moving.

 “It’s a rare piece, isn’t it?” Hawke said when she saw him turning the crystal to investigate its composition. “It’s not blood-magic, I can assure you. According to the tome it’s an absolute protection against demons and possessed non-mages. It can only be used by non-mages and only once.”

“I see,” said Cullen, mesmerized by the crystal’s moving heart.

Hawke put one hand over the crystal and nudged him to look her in the eyes. “Did you hear me? Only once. You only get one chance to kill Prawley. Stab him, then break the crystal, that sets its entity free to kill whatever is possessing him. It’s like a poison. An anti-spirit spirit that is always deadly. Otherwise, if you just kill Prawley, the demon would only go back to the Fade unscathed, free to possess again. It would be forever tainted by his malice.”

“Why must it be a non-mage?” he asked. “What happens if you would use it?”

Hawke sighed. “Nothing. That’s the problem. It responds only to the lack of magic. I can’t entrust it to anyone in my ranks. They might try and sell it, use it without knowing what it does and how precious it is. I would give it to Varric, but I doubt he could take on Prawley in hand-to-hand combat. It serves like a second in a duel. It has to be one-on-one. And only …”

“… Once, I get it,” said Cullen and pocketed the crystal rune. It felt warm against his skin even through the cloth. “Thank you. Do you know where he resides?”

“I do,” said Hawke. “But Anders might be there too. If you’re doing this, you’re going to need a plan.”

They spent the rest of the day formulating said plan. All the while Hawke watched each entrance to her den carefully, as if Anders or anyone else would try and barge in. Luckily they were undisturbed.

Their plan was thus; Hawke would lure Anders away from Prawley during the night, when he was almost certainly in his hiding place. Hawke didn’t know of any current plans to break out more mages, since they had already done that the previous night and hadn’t had time to recruit more it didn’t seem likely that they would be anywhere else.

Hawke showed Cullen a path out of Darktown next to an elevator for shipped goods that wasn’t in use anymore. The ropes had snapped and the chains were all rusty. The path led into a total blackness, the ground was uneven, making it hard to know what would be under one’s feet. There was even a short staircase which left Cullen feeling disoriented and dizzy because his feet didn’t anticipate the next step, but at least Hawke had warned him.

After a few minutes, she lit a lantern in the ceiling, revealing a wooden door. There was complete silence inside but Hawke assured him Prawley would be inside without Anders. Anders was waiting for her in her mansion.

“I can’t go any further,” she said and put a hand on his chest. “If he sees I’ve betrayed him, he’ll kill me.”

Cullen drew his sword. “Thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

“I best get back to Hightown,” said Hawke and turned around. “Good luck, Knight-Captain.”

“If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll devote resources to take that bastard down,” Cullen whispered.

Hawke hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll see what I can do. But please, be careful. And also … don’t die.”

Cullen choked down a laugh and shook his head, waiting as Hawke went back up the path and the stairs until he no longer heard her steps.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, he pushed the door. It was unlocked and opened with a dark, hoarse moan. Inside, there was a makeshift apartment. There were lanterns along the wall, lighting up the place, he almost wished they didn’t. The whole place looked and smelled wrong, like something had died beneath the floorboards. There was a small bed in one corner, a fireplace with a large pipe to ventilate the smoke. A bloodstained table with a couple of chairs. On the table sat bottles of blood, some tufts of hair and a severed hand. Cullen refused to wonder who it belonged to. It seemed Prawley was planning to turn into a new Templar.

Cullen squeezed the crystal in his pocket with one hand, the hand holding the sword beginning to shake as he saw Prawley’s large form breathing heavily on the bed. What had he gotten himself into? He hesitated to kill the man in his sleep, but before he could even think about it too much a dark red mist arose from the bed and the hard breathing stopped. The man got to his feet, eyes glowing red hands clutching a huge two-handed sword. Even unarmoured, he was huge, swelling with muscles. His skin began to crack, revealing even more redness inside, smoke coming out of the holes and even from his mouth as he spitefully grinned.

“Coming for a night cap, Knight-Captain?” he said with an unworldly voice, chuckling at his own wordplay.

“I’m here to end you.” Cullen said wasting no further time on talking as he lunged fearlessly at the abomination, who immediately blocked with the large sword.

Prawley proved stronger, but Cullen was more agile. After a short test of strength, he leaped aside so that the heavier man fell, his weight pushing the sword in between the floorboards. Cullen knocked him with his shoulder and swung his sword around, ready for the retaliation. Prawley growled pulled his sword up from the floor and sprang at Cullen with the point aimed directly at his heart. The space was too small for manoeuvring a proper fight, which had him pushing the furniture around just to get some room. He stumbled from side to side, trying in vain to pierce Prawleys hide, trying to punch and knock him out, but each time, the stronger man prevailed. Cullen began to sweat and fear for his life, all the while wondering why nobody came to his aid, Hawke knew he was here, fighting a monster. His heart pounded and he began to feel exhausted and feared he wouldn’t have the stamina to win. He decided to dodge instead of being on the offence, to try and tire out the bigger man. Prawley swung his sword around himself like a tornado, and barely managed to miss his mark. Cullen sidestepped him, letting the creature make attempt after attempt. Cullen dodged each time but in his desperate attempts to avoid being skewered found that all too soon he had been backed into a corner. The abomination sneered at him dropping his weapon seemingly in favour of choking Cullen out with his bare hands, hands that were so unbearably hot that he was sure he’d get some burn marks afterwards. But as the air left his body, he felt the blackness close in, the searing heat leave, as well as all the sounds in the room. He felt his eyes roll back in his skull and awaited that blissful sleep that was eternity at the Maker’s side.

Suddenly the world came back with a pang. Cullen fell to the floor, gasping for air and searching blindly for his sword while coughing to regain his breath. The Prawley abomination screamed angrily from somewhere above him and when his sight returned, he spotted someone helping him. At last, some help.

“Take the crystal!” Hawke’s voice shouted. “Use it now, I’ll distract him!”

Cullen scrambled to get up, held onto the table for support as he reached into his pocket to find the crystal wasn’t there. It had landed at Hawke’s feet.

“What do I do with it?” he shouted stumbling towards where the crystal lay

Hawke was holding back Prawley with her staff, bleeding from a wound on her right temple, he was pinning her down with his sword to her staff, while lashing at her with his elongated, dark red tongue. The image alone was enough to give him nightmares yet somehow Hawke managed to kick the crystal closer to Cullen.

“Just stab him and crush it!” she replied. “At the same time!”

Cullen pulled a knife from his belt and stabbed Prawley in the side, while stepping with all his last strength onto the crystal. The glass-like container broke and released a black smoke that poured straight into Prawley’s stab-wound. The creature gave a high-pitched shriek and fell backwards, all the while the black poison swept through his body destroying whatever demon was inside.

Cullen panted heavily and sat down on the floor where he’d previously fallen. The broken shards of the crystal lost their glow and like Hawke had said, it was now useless. But the monster was gone. In his place lay Prawley, bleeding out, shrinking down to his usual size, his body losing any trace of the demon that had been inside. He looked around confusedly, then closed his eyes and took his last breath.

“We did it…” he panted and looked around for Hawke. “Hawke?”

“She’s dying…” Hawke stared silently down at her own body, where the black poison smoke was also seeping through her. “She’s leaving me.”

Hawke fell to her knees and tears began to well up in her eyes. Cullen quickly got to her and took her in his arms. The poison left Hawke and disappeared into thin air. Hawke sobbed into Cullen’s shoulder and clung onto him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“When I heard you needed help, I came back,” Hawked murmured into his ear. “You had to succeed. I thought, with two spirits in there, the poison would seek out the one you killed while crushing the crystal. Not… all spirits in the room. The tome didn’t say anything about … She was my friend.”

“What’s going on here?” said a strange voice suddenly.

Both Hawke and Cullen leapt to their feet at the sound, and Hawke’s eyes widened at the sight of Anders standing in the doorway, looking confused. He was just as Cullen remembered, tall but gangly, with a harrowed-looking face and pale lips currently making a disapproving grimace.

“What are you doing here, Templar?” Anders practically spat the word like a profanity and lifted his staff.

Hawke stood between them. “Listen, Anders. Cullen helped us. You couldn’t see what Prawley had become so I took matters into my own hands.”

Anders looked suspiciously at Cullen. They both raised their weapons at each other but neither could hurt the other with Hawke between them.

“Prawley was my friend and colleague,” barked Anders angrily at Hawke. “Whatever he did, he did with my permission. He freed many from the Templars’ grasp.”

“Prawley was a monster,” Hawke tried. “You knew what he did to those poor girls after freeing them. You knew, and did nothing. What if it had been me?”

Anders considered briefly what she said, looking at Prawley and back at Hawke. He sneered to himself and shook his head, as if he had an inner monologue going on.

“Did you really need Prawley?” said Hawke. “He only made matters worse. And now you don’t need to involve the Templars anymore. You don’t need their blood or body samples to disguise him anymore. It’s over.”

“Fine, alright,” said Anders. “Prawley always took more than he gave. The fight goes on without him anyway.” Then he tipped his staff at Cullen. “But what about this one?”

“The knight-captain is an ally,” said Hawke fiercely. “He is my colleague.”

Cullen tried to lower his sword but the movement only seemed to antagonize Anders more. His staff flared up with blue and his eyes briefly glossed over with the same light.

“Colleague, huh?” said Anders and took Hawke’s hand. With his other, he pointed his staff at Cullen. “I told you I would kill him if he ever dared to come close to you again. She’s mine.”

“I do have a will of my own, Anders,” said Hawke irritably and pulled at Anders’ staff. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

“I shall have a little talk with the Knight-Captain first,” said Anders through his teeth. “You go on ahead, love.” Hawke tried protesting. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt him.”

. She left the room without as much as a glance at Cullen. She trusted Anders too much, he thought, as Anders closed the door after her. His heart twisted at the thought of her leaving but soon found himself in the grasp of Anders’ unexpectedly strong hands. His staff right at Cullen’s throat.

 “Don’t you dare come within eyeshot of her again,” he threatened. “Don’t look at her. Don’t even think of her. I’ll have no Templar corrupting her any longer. She’s mine.”

Cullen grunted dismissively. Anders tightened his grip on Cullen’s shirt. “Argh, alright. Maker.” Anders let go and backed off. “I’ll never deal with any of you again, happy?”

“Not yet.”

Anders raised his staff again and smacked Cullen over the head so that he fell into the wall, dizzy and seeing grey spots before his eyes. In return, he swung his sword blindly at Anders who jumped out of the way and cast a spell of ice on Cullen slowing his movements. Cullen shook it off with the help of the Lyrium still in his blood and tackled Anders to the ground, no weapon in hand. He punched the mage in the jaw, blood spurting across the floor before Anders kicked him off. Cullen stood up grabbing his sword again. He fought to regain his composure, leaning against the wall, both battle instincts and jealousy warring within him until all he could see was red. They stared at each other, both bleeding and sweating, both equally angry. The jealousy burned in Anders’ eyes too. But he was the lucky one. He was the one Hawke went back to.

“I should have you taken to the Gallows to be branded, mage,” Cullen growled, then sheathed his sword. “But she cares about you. I won’t hurt her like that.”

Anders grimaced at him and for a short moment, he resembled the young man who fled the Ferelden circle so many years ago. It made Cullen sad to see such youthful vigour replaced by this hateful creature.

“I don’t know what she sees in you.” Anders said strapping the staff to his back again.

Cullen held open the door for him. It was no politeness though, he simply refused to have such a man behind him through that darkness. “I don’t know what she sees in you, either.”