Loved and Lost
Sister Nightingale entered Cullen’s office as he finished writing a report. There was much to do before he left Kirkwall—he had little business left for the Order, but Guard-Captain Aveline and Mistress Lirene kept finding “just one more thing” that needed his attention in the city. The local Circle had never recovered after the champion absconded with most of its mages, and with no mages to monitor the remaining templars focused on rebuilding Kirkwall under Cullen’s command.
Cullen cocked an eyebrow as Sister Nightingale set a bottle and two glasses on the desk between them.
“I thought we might share a drink in honor of our mutual friend before we leave for Ferelden.”
He frowned as he reviewed the little he knew about her background. Not much was known about the mysterious Left Hand of the Divine—mostly whispers and rumors. Something about her title jogged a memory and his eyes widened as he sat back.
“You’re Brenna’s Nightingale.”
“Just so.” She smiled and poured for both of them. “You may call me Leliana.”
That was it—Leliana. She traveled with Brenna during the Blight and helped her defeat the Archdemon. Brenna spoke fondly of her nightingale in her letters. Her Nightingale and her Crow—the trio had been lovers. Cullen blushed at the realization that their “mutual friend” was a mutual lover.
“You haven’t heard from her?” she asked.
“No. Have you?”
“No.”
Cullen sighed and reached for his glass. No letters, no notes, not the slightest hint of contact. All he had left of his time with Brenna were the books she had sent him and the needlepoint token she had made for him. Thanks to Knight-Commander Meredith’s paranoia he had burned Brenna’s letters to prevent them from being found when Meredith had the barracks searched.
“Do you think Brenna will attend the conclave?” Cullen asked.
“No. We’ve heard rumors of her involvement in the mage rebellion, but she has been careful to leave no solid evidence of it. No one has seen her or Marian Hawke since they left Kirkwall, and I doubt that they will surface while the chantry continues to offer a bounty for their arrest.”
Left Kirkwall—as though it were that simple. Brenna and Marian stood against Knight-Commander Meredith’s attempt to annul the circle, and they somehow managed to sneak most of the mages out of the Gallows and onto a ship. It was the sort of mad plan that people associated with the Champion of Kirkwall, but executed with the careful strategy of the Hero of Ferelden.
Brenna had wanted him to leave with her, had reached out to him after the battle...and he did nothing. Her anguished expression haunted him to this day.
He raised his glass. “To the Hero of Ferelden.”
“Wherever she might be.”
They drank, and though he couldn’t be certain he thought the wine tasted of regret.
***
“News from the Herald?” Cullen asked. Leliana had summoned him to the war room despite the late hour, likely knowing that he was still awake. The Herald had left to confront the magister who had indentured Grand Enchanter Fiona and her mages, and they were awaiting news of the herald’s success—or failure.
“No.” Leliana shook her head as she frowned at the map. “News from the Hero of Ferelden.”
“What?” He frowned, certain he had heard that wrong.
“Brenna Amell just left the Crossroads with a group of young templars who are seeking to join the Inquisition.” She placed a silver token on the map to denote the group’s current location.
“Templars? Now I know you’re not serious.”
“We know the templars reached out to King Alistair, and I suspected that she’s been working with him. It’s clever. Their majesties couldn’t be interrogated about her whereabouts, and Alistair would never betray her to the Chantry.” Leliana sighed. “My agents monitored the palace for any sign of her, but she’s a shapeshifter. No one would notice a cat prowling the halls, or a bird perched in the courtyard.”
“Why reveal herself now?”
“Because there is no Chantry to arrest her, for one. According to the report from my agent, Brenna doesn’t intend to come here. She’s only leading the templars as far as the road to Haven.” She peered at him. “Are you all right?”
“Are you?” Cullen countered. Maker’s breath. He had more than enough Inquisition business to occupy himself with, and all while dealing with the symptoms of lyrium withdrawal. His nightmares had plenty of fuel without adding new regrets to the fire.
“I don’t know. Part of me thought I’d never see her again.” The corners of her mouth twitched. “But I’m not famous for my tragic romance with her.”
Cullen scowled and scrubbed a hand across his eyes. “When Varric’s book was published I didn’t expect to be part of it. Then I noticed whispers in the barracks whenever I walked through, and several of the young women would sigh and stare when they thought I wasn’t looking.”
Leliana grinned. “They wanted to heal your broken heart.”
“A broken heart was the least of my problems in Kirkwall. What do you intend to do?”
“Monitor their progress for now. I’ll let Josephine know as well.”
“Are you going to contact Brenna?”
Leliana pursed her lips. “Hmm. Perhaps, but not yet.”
“Very well. Keep me updated.”
A gust of frigid air sliced through his armor as he left the chantry. The snow had started after nightfall and now it coated the paths, concealing the ice beneath it in a treacherous layer of white. Cullen nodded to a patrol and pretended not to notice when one of its members slipped and nearly lost his footing.
He never would have chosen Haven as a base for the Inquisition, but needs must. It would be worse come winter—this was the “mild” weather of autumn. He carefully made his way through the village and down to the temporary barracks. If they were to stay through winter they would need to build proper structures to house the troops or risk tents collapsing under the weight of snow and ice.
The commander was afforded his own tent, yet the extra space seemed to make it colder than the rest. With a sigh he returned to his desk and relit the lantern, illuminating the reports he had been writing when Leliana’s summons came.
Brenna Amell. He hadn’t realized how much he relied on her letters until they stopped arriving—how her stories of life in Amaranthine lifted his spirits and her faith in him steeled his resolve to right the wrongs in the Gallows. He flexed his hands to warm his fingers and he frowned at the slight tremor that shook them. After Knight-Commander Meredith’s defeat he discovered that she had reduced the lyrium dosage, essentially watering it down for weeks without informing anyone of the change. As a result the templars under her command had been on edge and jittery, which had only made matters in Kirkwall worse.
What did it mean if Brenna had truly resurfaced? Could they stand together, finally on the same side? He was no longer a templar and the chantry was in no shape to hunt her—for “questioning” according to the bounty letter, though Cullen knew that Brenna wouldn’t go quietly to interrogation like Varric Tethras had. If Cassandra and Brenna were ever in the same room it was sure to end in bloodshed.
Shaking the thought away, he focused on the one matter he could do anything about at the moment—slaying paperwork.