This was another DA k-meme fill. To avoiding spoiling, I put the prompt at the end.

~o~

Varric looked up from the Merchants Guild trade agreements spread across his desk when Hawke walked in, her heavy armor making a percussive sound with each deliberate step.

Standing, Varric sighed, not happy with the news he had to pass on to Kirkwall's Champion. The last person you wanted to tell that their lover was about to be locked up or killed was a very scary woman with a big sword.

"I came as soon as I got your message. It sounded urgent." She examined his face in her usual openly assessing way and swore softly. "I can see it's bad news, Varric. Don't sugarcoat it, you know I hate that. Just give it to me straight."

Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he smiled apologetically, doing what he could to soften the blow. "The templars are coming for Blondie, Hawke. There's no one left to bribe, and no other way for me to stop it. I'm afraid it's your move next, I'm outta ideas here."

She tapped her metal-clad fingers against the chain mail skirting hanging against her thighs. "How soon, Varric? I need to know how much time I have to work with."

The dwarf licked his lower lip and shrugged. "Today? Tomorrow? It's soon, that's all my contacts know for sure."

Hawke fingered the hilt of the dagger at her waist, her mind quickly running through possible options. She couldn't lose Anders too. Not after her stupidity had gotten Beth killed in the Deep Roads and her blindness had allowed a murderer to slaughter her mother right under her nose. There had to be a way to save him. She wouldn't entertain any other possibility.

"I'll go to the Gallows. Perhaps I can reason with the Knight-Captain. He's always been helpful in the past. It can't hurt, right?" She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm sure I don't need to tell you to keep this quiet. Anders has been having an even harder time coping with things than usual. He doesn't need this worry too."

Varric nodded. "I gotchya covered, Hawke. We're the only ones who know about it."

She turned to go, but hesitated in the doorway, honey-brown strands of hair falling across her cheek when she looked down. "Thanks, Varric. You're a true friend."

He waved a hand. "Shit, Hawke, you'd do the same for me. Besides, I might actually miss Blondie's ranting."

She glanced over her shoulder and smirked. "Even you're not that good of a liar."

He winked. "Get outta here and go save your mage."

Hawke clutched the edge of the bobbing boat, swallowing convulsively and trying to concentrate on anything but the shifting water that made her stomach want to eject it's contents.

After an interminable amount of time, the boat finally docked, allowing her to disembark. When she was happily on solid ground again, she squared her shoulders and walked down the passage that would take her to the outer courtyard of the Gallows.

She looked for Cullen and was unsurprised to find he was nowhere in sight. Knowing the demands on her own time, she expected he was kept endlessly busy with his various responsibilities. Walking to the center gate, she put in a request to speak to the Knight-Captain.

Another five minutes of pacing, and she was taken down two long, dark halls, and into a carpeted passage where she was ushered into a small office. Cullen was sitting behind a desk but rose to greet her when she entered, his eyes bright with welcome.

"Champion, this is a surprise. To what do I owe the honor of this visit?"

Hawke nodded politely. "Knight-Captain," she murmured. "It's nice to see you, as always."

"Please, have a seat." Cullen gestured to one of the two chairs facing his desk, and Hawke removed her greatsword and set it aside before sitting.

"Actually, I have a problem I was hoping you could help me with."

His brow furrowed in concern. "I don't know what help you could possibly want from me, but I'm listening."

She glanced at the open door. "What I have to say is of a rather sensitive nature. Do you mind if I shut the door?"

He stood to his feet and went to shut the door himself, coming to stand close to her. "You may speak freely now. There is no one to overhear."

Hawke took a deep breath and looked up into his intense green-eyed scrutiny. "It has come to my attention, from a very reliable source, that you intend to apprehend a friend of mine, a healer."

Cullen frowned, narrowing his eyes. "Where did you hear this?"

She shook her head impatiently. "That's not important. What is important is the fact that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to prevent this from occurring. Whatever it takes," she emphasized. "This man is very important to me. What I want to know from you is, what will it take for you to…forget about my friend?"

Cullen's mouth opened, but she hurried on with her plea. "He does endless good, Knight-Captain. He treats the poor and dispossessed with no thought for himself. Surely you can look the other way for the greater good this man does for the city?"

Pacing slowly around the room, Cullen looked at her speculatively. "You are willing to do anything, you say?"

Hawke nodded. "Absolutely. If you need something done for the Order, or even something personal you want me to attend to, I will gladly do so; and I can do it quickly and quietly. I have extensive connections, as you are no doubt aware."

Cullen crossed his arms, leaning into the edge of his desk, shifting the armor against his hip. He tilted his head, eyes boring into hers until she started to fidget from his extended silence. Finally, he spoke. "Very well, Hawke, I'm willing to look the other way in this case, but there is only one thing I will accept in exchange for such a large favor on my part."

She grinned and leaned back against the seat as much as her armor would allow. The sudden relief she felt from his words drained all the tension from her body, making her momentarily light-headed. "Consider it done, Cullen. And please know you will always have my deepest gratitude. I never forget it when someone goes out on a limb for me."

His lips twisted in a wry grin. "Perhaps you would care to hear my terms before you offer your gratitude."

Laughing lightly, she shrugged a shoulder. "How bad can they be? Is it gold you want, or perhaps you need me to make a problem go away, hmm?"

He shook his head and moved closer, reaching out a hand to cup her chin, his thumb rubbing against her cheek in an intimate gesture. She swallowed, eyes suddenly going wide. His eyes lingered over her face with undisguised desire, and her stomach lurched in alarm. "You can't possibly be suggesting…"

"You are my price, Sorah Hawke," he interrupted, "only you. Give me a single night, and I will forget all about the apostate you keep in your house."

"No," she said, the word flying from her mouth automatically. His eyes narrowed and he removed his hand and stepped back, his face taking on a blank implacability.

"Then I'm afraid we have nothing further to discuss."

Hawke looked down at the floor, her mind spinning. She couldn't really consider this, could she? It was the worst kind of betrayal between committed lovers, and Anders was a jealous man. But he'll die, or worse. I can stop it. I must stop it.

"Would you really make a whore of me," she asked quietly, without looking up.

He sighed. "No. I would have you slake the thirst of a man who has been too long without the only drop of water he craves. There are many other women, Sorah, but none of them are you. Is it difficult for you to believe that I would go to such lengths to have you? Is the idea really so repulsive?"

She looked up, startled to realize that although she had never really considered the Knight-Captain in such a way, he was handsome. "You're an attractive man, Cullen," she said sullenly, "as I am sure you are aware."

He chuckled, and walked toward her again, pulling her to her feet. "You needn't sound so put out about it." He bent his head and hesitated briefly before he pressed his lips against hers gently in the briefest of kisses she didn't bother to protest, before moving back to look into her eyes. "Do we have an agreement?"

Her heart had jumped into her throat at his touch and prevented her speech, so she nodded dumbly, her gut already churning with guilt at the anticipation of betraying Anders. It's to save him! she thought desperately.

"Where?" she asked, stepping away from him. Her gaze swept the office, impossible thoughts of her lying on top of his desk making her want to break out into hysterical gales of crazed laughter. His eyes bored into her again, and she looked away, unable to bear the intensity of such a look from him.

"There is an inn in Lowtown to the west of the foundry district called The Warrior's Rest, do you know it?"

She drew in a breath and nodded. "Yes, I know the place you refer to."

He walked back behind his desk. "Come at the eighth hour this evening, and expect to remain until dawn."

Hawke went and retrieved her blade, her brow furrowed and movements strained. "Will you swear that this thing you require of me will ensure Anders' freedom?" She turned her pale blue eyes to him expectantly.

"I give you my word that I will do everything in my power to protect your mage, so long as you do as I ask."

"Very well," she said grudgingly, "then we have an agreement. I will see you tonight." She walked away with brisk steps, closing the door behind her.

Cullen watched her leave with a small smile on his face. "I look forward to it, Hawke." Sitting down again, he resumed his paperwork with far more enthusiasm than before.

Hawke made her way back to Hightown in a daze, trying to block out thoughts of what the evening would hold, but the more she tried not to think of it, the more she did.

Growling under her breath, she shoved open the door to the estate, banging it against the wall in her frustration. She waved away Bodahn's concern and fussing, removing her sword and retreating to her bedroom where she knew she would be able to brood undisturbed.

She walked in and slammed the door, banging her forehead against the back of it and reaching for the buckles on her armor. An amused chuckle came from the closet.

"I don't know who pissed you off, love, but I don't envy their fate." Anders stepped out, bare-chested and clad only in breeches, carrying a linen tunic and his spare coat.

She startled guiltily, blushing. "Anders, you're here. I thought you said you were too busy to even come home for dinner tonight."

He pulled the tunic over his head, voice slightly muffled by the fabric. "I had to come back just to quickly wash and change. A very pregnant woman decided to vomit all over me when I was examining her."

Hawke frowned in distaste, returning her attention to the removal of her armor. "I'm sorry, that sounds unpleasant."

Anders slipped his arms into his coat and did up the buckles, smiling ruefully. "Well, it's just another type of bodily fluid. I've had them all on me at some time or another."

She rolled her eyes. "Really Anders, I don't need to know that about a man I often lick."

He laughed. "I am careful to use extra soap, just for you, Sorah. I know how fastidious you are."

He came and helped her with the metal pieces, as he often did, and she let the familiarity of his presence suppress all unpleasant thoughts. When her last piece of armor had been laid aside, he pulled her against him for a kiss, but she angled her head away, feeling herself tainted by Cullen's lips and unworthy of Anders' kiss.

His fingers combed through the shoulder length strands of her brown hair soothingly. "What is it? I haven't seen you this upset in some time. Did you lose to Isabela at cards again?"

She snorted a laugh and wound her arms around him in a desperate embrace. His own arms tightened in response. "Nothing so serious. I just have an engagement tonight I wasn't able to get out of. The nobles can be such a bore," she said with a sigh.

He kissed her head and lifted her chin, his brown eyes twinkling with laughter. "If that's the case, I suppose it's just as well I was planning to stay at the clinic tonight. I assume you'll be out until all hours?"

"Yes," she said miserably, "I doubt I'll be able to slip away before dawn."

"I'll miss you," he whispered against her lips. Anders kissed her then and she didn't resist, letting his loving caresses drive away everything else.

Rubbing her eyes groggily, Hawke threw back the covers and rose from her bed. A nap had seemed a good idea at the time, but now she was doubting the wisdom of it, fighting to throw off sluggishness.

She checked the time, breathing in relief when she found she still had an hour until she was to meet Cullen. Bathing quickly, she chose a gown appropriate for a party of nobles, ever mindful of her deception. Dabbing rosewater behind her ears, she pulled on silken gloves and surveyed herself in the large looking glass in her dressing room, scrutinizing the completed picture.

The sapphire gown complimented the pale blue of her eyes, but with the plunging neckline and sleeves so far off the shoulder as to be barely there, it could hardly be called modest. Her mouth twisted in contempt. Perfect for a Hightown whore.

Turning away, she plucked a satin wrapper from a hook on the wall. The voluminous folds would hide her attire from prying eyes, just as the hood would conceal her face. The time was upon her. Slipping quietly out the back door of the estate, she hurried to Lowtown.

When she arrived at the inn, she stood looking at the door, wracked with uncertainty and the urge to flee. She turned away, nearly ready to run, when an arm slipped around her waist from behind. She gasped in surprise, twisting to see Cullen smiling down on her in amusement.

"You aren't thinking of flying away so soon, are you, my little Hawke?"

She took a breath, composing herself quickly and forcing an assurance into her voice she didn't feel. "Certainly not. Shall we proceed?"

He chuckled and offered his arm, which she took reluctantly. "By all means, milady, let us go in."

Hawke was relieved to see there were few people about at the sleepy little inn, but she still kept her hood pulled forward to shadow her face. There were too many that could easily recognize the Champion, and she didn't need that complication.

Cullen led her into a bedchamber, decorated in pleasantly somber burgundies, with a cheerful fire crackling in the hearth, and a lit lantern brightening the half of the room that was further from the glow of the blaze.

His hands went to the clasp of her cloak, working quickly to peel the concealing fabric from her. He inhaled appreciatively when he saw her attire, his callused fingers brushing across a nearly bare shoulder.

"Truly, Sorah, you are a vision to bring a man to his knees."

She looked away from him, blushing, and cursing her fair complexion for betraying her discomfort. She was used to being the one who was confidently in command, but this was something where she felt entirely out of her depth.

"Can we just get on with this," she asked harshly.

He took her hand and peeled off her glove slowly, pressing a kiss to her palm before repeating the same with her other hand, allowing his lips to drift to her wrist, his lips lingering there in a way that made her heart beat faster. He smiled knowingly.

"This isn't a race, but a leisurely stroll. I intend to take my time and be very thorough, and also to ensure that you enjoy yourself. Your pleasure is just as important to me as my own. Wine?"

He walked to a table near the window and poured two glasses while Hawke cursed silently to herself. She had every intention of not enjoying herself, then she could justify it as any other task she fulfilled, and not as much a betrayal of her beloved.

Enough! she scolded herself. You are here now, so be here. You can call yourself hateful names later.

She bit her lip and drew in a cleansing breath, exhaling away her tension. Cullen was an attractive man; she would only make the evening more difficult if she tried to ignore the fact.

Walking across the room, she accepted the brimming glass from him and sipped the wine, surprised to find it was a decent quality.

Hawke examined him. Clad in leathers, he looked considerably more Ferelden. It occurred to her that she knew next to nothing about Cullen beyond his templar role.

"Tell me a little of yourself, Cullen, I feel at a bit of a disadvantage."

He took a swallow of his wine and nodded, tilting his head. "I suppose it's only fair, seeing as I know so much about you." His eyes grew hazy in memory and he looked down into his cup, swirling the wine.

"Let's see…I was born in a little farming village in the Bannorn, called Dulin's End. I had a fairly normal childhood, I suppose. I was my parents firstborn, and I had three younger brothers and a sister." He smiled faintly. "Those were happier times."

He sighed and continued. "The summer I turned fourteen, half the village caught the fever and died." His brow furrowed. "I was away in Denerim, having gone with a village elder to sell some of my families' grain. When I returned, I discovered my entire family had perished, even the little ones."

Hawke swallowed, unexpected sympathy bringing tears to her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly, "I know what it's like to lose your family, but at so young an age, and all at once…" She shook her head and sipped at her wine to dispel the tightness in her throat.

He glanced at her. "Thank you. I know you are no stranger to loss yourself. It was very difficult for me at the time, and I became somewhat wild in my grief. The village elder allowed me to stay with him for a while, both he and his wife were very kind…"

"But I started spending more time in the Chantry. Looking for comfort or purpose, I suppose. A templar, by the name of Ser Soren befriended me. It was by his recommendation that I began training as a templar. And here I am," he finished wryly. "You now know all about me."

She looked down with a smile, then drained the last of her wine. "Somehow I doubt that's all there is to your story. You seem the kind of man who still holds onto a few of his secrets."

He set her cup aside, along with his own, then took her face between his hands. "It would please me for you to discover them." He lowered his head slowly, watching her closely, then kissed her until they were both breathless and panting with desire.

His hands worked the laces on the back of her party frock, cool air flowing across her skin where the dress gapped open. His lips wandered down her throat, licking at her frantically beating pulse and rolling the skin between his teeth as though he were trying to consume her life force.

She shuddered when he pushed her dress down her hips and cupped a breast, running his thumb across her fabric covered nipple. He knelt down to suckle her other nipple, wetting the cloth with the warm suction of his mouth, teeth scraping erotically. Hawke stifled a moan and he stood again, dominating her with the forceful dueling of his tongue, before scraping his stubbled chin across her jaw.

"Undo my tunic," he said in a low voice.

She pulled on the laces, widening them and baring the upper part of his chest to her appreciative gaze. He stepped back enough to pull the tunic off over his head and she stared, her eyes devouring the firm planes of muscle that tapered down to a chiseled abdomen and lean hips.

Scars marred the skin here and there across his arms and torso, mementos of battles fought; she had a good many of her own. Try as she might, she couldn't help but compare Cullen to Anders.

She loved her mage dearly, but his physique was far softer, and she outstripped him in both strength and stamina. Why did it make her suddenly breathless to think that Cullen's strength was likely greater than her own?

His arms went around her again, and she was keenly aware of the heat of his bare skin where it brushed against her. His determined shove sent the clinging dress off her hips and pooling around her feet on the floor. A flick of his fingers and her breast binding joined the other garments.

With shaking hands, she reached for the laces of his leather breeches, undoing them and turning aside to toe off her slippers when he bent to remove his boots and the last of his clothing.

He laughed softly, and she glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Gesturing to the daggers she wore strapped around her thighs, he threw down his final boot and stepped behind her. "Why am I not surprised to see you still managed to arm yourself, even in that dress?"

She grinned unexpectedly, letting him remove the sheaths and daggers. "It's never a good idea to be unprepared, Cullen, even if you're caught with your pants down, so to speak."

"I think I had best keep these out of your reach, for the sake of my manhood," he quipped, setting the blades on the table.

He rolled her lacy smallclothes down her legs, his breath catching in his throat to see her naked, at long last. He pulled her back against him, his cock hard against the curve of her ass, his fingers drifting across her ribs and down her hip to delve into the folds of her sex, testing her readiness.

"I never thought I would have the chance to touch you like this, my beautiful Sorah," he said with a groan, "no matter how much I longed to."

She bit her lip at his stimulating touch, eager to hurry on to the next step, but he pulled his hand back and stepped away, leaving space between their bodies. Hawke shivered at the loss of his heat, then again as his lips began slow kisses and caresses down her back.

"What are you doing?" she asked in bewilderment.

He nuzzled against her lower back, nipping at her generous backside, and drawing his fingers lightly up the back of her leg. "I'm being thorough. A woman's erogenous areas are not all in the obvious places."

She frowned, somewhat in a quandary. She wanted to turn to face him, but that would put his face against her sex, and she wasn't ready for anything like that. Reaching a hand back, she tried to tug him up, but he wouldn't budge.

"What makes you an expert on a woman's erogenous zones, templar?"

Hot breath rolled across her ribs, his tongue leaving a wet trail. "I read a great deal."

She snorted. "There's a big difference between theory and practical application."

"So there is." He stood and swept her into his arms. She let out an embarrassing squeal of alarm, clutching his neck to keep from falling.

"You don't think I'm going to drop you?" he said teasingly.

Hawke lifted an annoyed brow. "I'm not exactly light, Cullen."

He made a sound of amusement, walking toward the bed with easy strides. "You are to me."

Lowering her to the bed, he lay next to her and took her into his arms, kissing her hungrily, his hands wandering freely across her curves. He stimulated and caressed places no man had ever bothered with, not even Anders, who she considered a very conscientious lover.

He rolled her onto her stomach and she gave him a strange look.

"Just trust me," he murmured.

She shrugged inwardly and lay flat. This was his party, after all, she would play it his way. The first kiss against her ankle was curious, yet not unpleasant, but by the time he had his lips against the backs of her knees, leaving open-mouthed kisses there, she had discovered new sensitivities she never knew she possessed.

The slow burn of arousal he had already ignited, was fast turning into a raging inferno. When he touched her sex again, she couldn't stop her needy moan. His softly spoken command for her to turn over again was obeyed without question.

When his tongue licked a lazy path across her aching core, she nearly flew off the bed, bucking against the sudden intensity of nearly painful pleasure. He spread his palm across her belly to hold her in place, turning into a wicked torturer, granting her no quarter and demanding she respond.

She lost track of how many times she peaked from his mouth and fingers, but still managed to cry out hoarsely when his thick cock filled her so completely. He breathed heavily into her ear, asking her to tell him what she wanted.

Hawke looked at him in a daze, her body still thrumming with need, and she spoke unguardedly. "Fuck me, Cullen, hard."

His smug, male laugh was followed by the powerful movement of his hips, pumping his length into her molten core and driving her into the bed forcefully. He braced himself on one arm and watched her fall apart, her body so highly aroused, it took little to send her over the edge again.

Cullen bit her earlobe and his voice panted darker things than she had ever thought to hear from his lips.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, Sorah, I'll become a permanent part of you. When you leave, you will never be able to stop thinking of me. Your apostate can't give you what I can. He won't ever be able to," he growled.

She shook her head in denial, raking her nails against his back to punish him for his possessive words. He reached down between them, working his middle finger inside her against his cock and curling it against her sweet spot, while rubbing his thumb across her clit, and she came harder than before, unable to keep from screaming his name. She was only distantly aware when he reached his own climax, spilling deep inside her, and shuddering her name against her breast.

Hawke dozed for a while, but was woken to powerful hands touching sensitive skin. While her mind tried to shy away, her body eagerly responded, and then Cullen was inside her again, taking her as though it were his right.

Impossibly, from only one coupling, she seemed to already be conditioned to react to his touch. If she hadn't been so groggy, she would have been angry at her body's betrayal.

"Sorah, are you awake?" he whispered, his hips moving lazily as he stroked her deep.

"No," she said, then moaned when he flicked her nipple.

He laughed softly, his movement starting to quicken. "Then dream about me."

The night passed slowly, and the Knight-Captain was just as thorough as he claimed he would be. It seemed as though he really had been intent on branding himself into her flesh. Sorah was reminded of just how formidable a warrior's strength and stamina could be. Cullen had completely worn her out, and when the sun rose, she was fast asleep.

He shook her gently, trying to wake her, and she slapped at him. "Go away," she mumbled, trying to burrow deeper into the pillow.

"Sorah," he said, with an amused smile she couldn't see. "you must wake up now, it's past dawn."

The words slowly penetrated her foggy mind and she lifted her head with a gasp.

"What! Why didn't you wake me?" She scrambled out of bed, wincing as her muscles protested the sudden movement, and sprinted to her pile of clothes on the floor.

Cullen watched her and shrugged. "I tried. You have some very inventive curses you use. Some of them I've never even heard."

She snickered, already back in her smalls and quickly pulling on the beast of a dress. "Sorry, I have a friend that's a pirate. I'm afraid some of her unsavory speech may have rubbed off."

Cullen came over and redid the laces of her gown without being asked. When she was fully dressed again, daggers and all, she turned to look at him, suddenly feeling awkward.

They stood staring for the space of several heartbeats, then Cullen walked to her cautiously and enfolded her in his arms, sighing in relief when she didn't resist.

"Thank you for last night," he said, kissing her tousled hair. "I've been wanting that for more years than I can admit without blushing."

She giggled a little self-consciously. "I think we might both be a bit beyond blushing now." She wrapped her arms around him, having the bizarre feeling she was farewelling a friend.

"You certainly did a fine job of hiding your attraction," she continued. "I don't think I could have been any more shocked than when you suggested this."

He lifted his head to look into her eyes. "You honestly never had any idea?"

Hawke shook her head solemnly.

Cullen lowered his head to kiss her, and she closed her eyes and kissed him back, determined to savor this final embrace. He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, "Then you're blind."

He slapped her rump, grinning, and she glared at him. Grabbing her cloak, she wrapped it around herself. "I'm a warrior, not a bloody mind reader," she muttered.

Cullen tilted his head, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps I will keep that in mind for future reference."

They parted ways amicably, and Hawke spent half the morning soaking in a bath, trying to remove Cullen's scent from her skin unsuccessfully, only to realize it seemed to be stuck in her nose. In dismay, she wondered if his impassioned words had been as much prediction as anything.

She ambled to the Hanged Man later, unable to stay home and let her mind torment her with explicit images and confused feelings.

Varric waved her over to a table when she entered the tavern. "Hey Hawke, how did everything go with your meeting yesterday? I assume you reached a satisfactory arrangement?"

Sitting down, she drew in a weary breath, she really was excessively tired. "Yes, Varric. The Knight-Captain and I were able to come to an agreeable compromise, I think."

Varric smirked and swallowed a mouthful of his ale. "I'm glad to hear it. One less thing to worry about."

Hawke smiled and agreed, but two months later when she was sick into the chamber pot for the third consecutive morning, she realized she might have gotten much more than she bargained for.

Prompt:

Cullen and his fellow Templars are so close to capturing and prosecuting Anders that when Hawke hears about this she goes to Cullen herself and begs for mercy on behalf of Anders and the people he helps daily. Cullen propositions Hawke's 'services' in exchange for what she wants and Hawke, despite being in a relationship with Anders agrees...

Sound like anyone can make it work?

~o~