A/N: Well, starting all over again. Welcome back previous viewers, and hello to newcomers! For those of you who don't know, throughout each of my chapters I tend to put little asterisk (*) by certain parts of my story, and leave footnotes at the bottom. They're just little notes I thought would be funny, or interesting.
On we go with A Price To Pay once again!
Pain shot like electricity behind her eyes, making her groan in pain from her prone position. The echoes of a nightmare still rang in her head, and she shivered in remember fear. A cold sweat still dampened her skin; she squeezed her eyes shut tight and wished desperately for warm water and a washcloth.
Zaira dared to lift one eyelid a scant bit, wincing at the harsh midday sunlight, but sadly, no water or cloth appeared. With a sigh, she allowed her face to flop back onto the lumpy pillow it had been resting on. Wincing at the pain that hit her brain in consequence, she decided more sleep was definitely in order.
Just as she was starting to lightly doze, a familiar voice asked "Are you awake?"
Groaning, she turned her head and again opened one eye to glare at the irritant. Jowan peered down at her in concern. Probably wondering just how violent his imminent death was going to be. Zaira's mood upon awakening was, at best, grumpy, and at worst, homicidal.
And today was definitely not her best day.
"I am now," she ground out, surprised at the gravelly sound of her voice.
Jowan chuckled despite her glare and his incoming doom. "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for a few days."
"A few days?" she squawked, rising fully from her pillow. The soreness in her muscles caused her to immediately regret that decision and she fell back. "Why am I still so tired?"
"Irving said it was to be expected. You've been through a lot. Speaking of which, you might want to get up. He's asked to see you."
"Great," she growled, making him laugh again. She allowed herself to slowly raise up until her bare feet rested on the cold stone floor and her elbows were biting into her knees. She rubbed at her sore neck with her eyes closed.
"What do you remember?" Jowan asked.
"Harrowing. Fade. It sucked."
"You were in the Fade?"
Zaira peered up at his excitement-lit eyes, curiosity radiating off of him. She grimaced at her slip of the tongue.
"Um…no?" she offered halfheartedly.
Jowan gave her a pleading puppy dog look to which she grinned at.
"Nope! You're not getting anything more out of me!"
He rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine."
She smiled, used to his sulky behavior. He'd forgive her soon enough. "How long ago did Irving ask for me?"
Jowan furrowed his brows and looked toward the ceiling, thinking. "…Long enough. You'd better get going."
"Alright. I'll just get ready right quick and go." She pointed to the door. "Now out!"
He rolled his eyes again, but obeyed.
Zaira lifted herself fully from her cot, nearly bumping her head on the bunk above hers in the process. Grateful for missing the potential splitting headache, she maneuvered out from under it and to the closed off area the female apprentices used as a dressing room. It offered little to no privacy, but hey, what choice did they have?
She quickly removed her now badly-in-need-of-a-wash robes and threw on a new set, sighing at the feeling of clean material.
She smiled at a passing apprentice as she quickly undid the loose and tangled braid her hair was in. Even brushed, the pleats left her red hair wavy and full. She did what she could with the worst of the tangles and then quickly retied it in its usual braid. She then took a little breath and examined her expression in the mirror. A set of determined – if slightly panicked – green eyes stared back. Her flushed cheeks showed she was still a little worse for the wear, and her pale pallor didn't help her appearance any. She took a few slow breaths, trying to at least make her countenance appear a little more sedate, and grimaced at how little effect there was.
Squaring her shoulders, she decided it would have to do, and set off to meet Irving. Just as she was passing her cot she noticed her trunk was gone.* She glanced around curiously, and spotted Surana about to leave the Apprentice Quarters.
"Surana!" the faired haired woman turned with a politely curious smile as Zaira skidded to a stop in front of her.
"Hey, what happened to all of my-"
"We took all of your things to your new quarters when Cullen brought you back and told us you had passed," Surana interrupted, guessing the question.
"Oh…" Zaira said, "…Cullen brought me back?"
"Yes, he did!" she giggled girlishly. "He said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen." Her eyes gleamed mischievously as she leaned in close, as though about to reveal an incredible secret. "I think he's in love with you!"
"You and every female apprentice in the Circle," Zaira laughed. "We'll have girl talk later; I've got to meet Irving. Wouldn't want to have a templar come in and hear us talking about my ever so scandalous non-relationship with him."
Surana laughed, agreeing. Zaira gave her a wink and jogged to the stairs, a smile tugging at her lips. The quickest and cleanest he'd ever seen, eh? He'd get a reward for that one. A smirk played openly on her face now as she reached the top of the steps, turning right to where she knew he kept his post.
She paused when he was in eye-sight, forever amused by the professional look he got when he was on duty. He looked so…stern. And admittedly, that had scared her off when she'd first met him. Her distrust of templars already firmly rooted due to the forceful tearing from her family, this new angry, stony silent templar had been her target of hatred. When she cursed the templars silently, in her mind, she saw his face, the grumpy, icy look the perfect face for the horrible men she knew the templars were. A few bored conversations and careful observing sessions later, she discovered that face was a mask. In the beginning, he used it to cover his nervousness. He eventually got used to 'putting the mask on' every day. It generally caused him very little trouble with the mages, and most of the less…gentle templars left him be.
He turned his head her way now, noticing her. She restarted her walking, giving him a bright smile. He responded with a polite nod, shot a glance past her shoulder – to see if anyone was behind her – then reformed his greeting into a charming smile of his own.
"Hi," she said upon stopping in front of him, tucking an imaginary strand of hair behind her ear.
"Hello," he responded, glancing down both ends of the hall again. "Are you feeling any better?"
"Well, I'm still breathing," she said simply. "I'd say that's pretty good."
He chuckled, then searched for something to say. "They…I was supposed to strike the killing blow if you-" he almost sounded proud – which made sense, it was an honor to be thought strong enough to strike down an abomination – until he suddenly remembered it was her he was talking about. A grin fastened on her lips, she watched in amusement as he quickly backtracked. "I…That is…I wouldn't have wanted to I mean…!"
"Cullen," she stopped him, leaving him with an embarrassed and miserable look on his face. "Don't worry about it. Let's just both be glad I made it out alive, yea?"
He smiled and nodded, glancing away awkwardly.
Deciding she wasn't quite done embarrassing him yet, Zaira said "Soooooo, I hear you were quite impressed with my performance."
His face darkened in color. "I don't know what you mean."
She put a finger to her chin. "I believe the words were 'the quickest, cleanest Harrowing you'd ever seen' or something to that effect?"
Drawing his eyebrows together, he turned away, scratching the back of his head. "You…did do very well."
She laughed out loud at his embarrassment, and, after glancing around to make sure there were no passerby, put her hands lightly on his shoulder and stood on her toes.
"You don't have to be so embarrassed," she said quietly. "I just wanted to properly thank you for the lovely compliment."
"Properly?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow.
She smiled, and turned away, walking a ways down the corridor. She only turned back once, to see he was following, just like she wanted. She led him into a small storage room, filled with books and trunks and the like. A few bookshelves made a nice little nook that couldn't be seen from the doorway – which she immediately headed for. She waited for Cullen to step in beside her, and gazed up at his expectant face for a moment before twining her arms about his neck and pressed her lips to his.
Okay, so my non-relationship with him is more like an actual relationship, Zaira thought, mentally apologizing to Surana as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her closer. Their feelings for each other had been all too obvious for far too long, and finally, not long ago, she'd gotten tired of being alone and desperate. She'd made the first move, and, admittedly had been quite surprised when he'd responded accordingly.
Not that I'm complaining, she thought as he nipped her bottom lip, getting a whimper out of her. She felt the corners of his mouth turn upward at the sound. She pressed closer, wishing there was less armor between them. Maybe then she could get him to moan and –
"What was that?" she turned her head away, breathless, having heard a noise in the hallway. There was a pair of voices. Templars. Distant, but getting dangerously close to Cullen's post.
"I'll leave first," he said quickly, unwrapping himself from around her. "It wouldn't look right for us both to leave." He walked quickly by, then paused, half-turning back. "Oh and you…might want to fix your hair."
She brushed a hand against her head, tsking when she realized he'd tangled his hand in it and ruined it. He quickly took his leave, but not before she saw the red rising in his cheeks.
Chuckling softly, she undid her hair, running her fingers through the worst of it, and smoothing it down. She again wrestled it into a braid, waited a minute more, and then took her leave, heading the opposite direction this time, which meant she walked by Cullen again. She glanced past him to see another templar walking down the corridor. They each politely nodded each other.
She was hard pressed to keep a grin off of her face.
DAZDAZDAZ
When Zaira reached Irving's study, she stumbled upon him and Greagoir having a heated argument. .** A tall man stood between them, seeming a little exasperated
"-Wynne, Uldred, and countless others have already left for Ostagar, we cannot afford to lose any more!"
"We?" Irving asked in his gravelly voice. "I had no idea you felt such kinship with the mages, Greagoir."
Greagoir sneered, and seemed as though he was about to make a scathing reply, but the tall, dark man Zaira didn't recognize interrupted him.
"Gentlemen," both men immediately stopped. Zaira wasn't surprised. The tone of his voice said he was used to giving orders, and no one had the option of disobeying. "Irving," he continued. "It seems you have a visitor."
Zaira suddenly realized she was standing in the middle of the room, unashamedly eavesdropping. She had the decency to blush before addressing Irving.
"You asked for me, First Enchanter?"
"Ah, you've arrived. Our new sister in the Circle." He motioned for her to come closer as Duncan stepped beside him.
"This is the one you spoke to me of?"
Zaira's eyebrows rose.
"Yes, this is she. A very promising young mage, as she proved in her Harrowing four nights ago."
Greagoir sent her a dirty glance and turned to Irving. "It seems you are busy, First Enchanter. We will discuss this matter later." He walked past her in what she supposed he thought was a manly huff.
Irving sighed.
"Now then. This, child, is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."
Zaira gave him a polite nod, and glanced at the daggers she could see poking up over his shoulder.
"As I'm sure you know, there is war brewing in the South. Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army in Ostagar."
"I don't suppose you have room for a newly Harrowed mage?" Zaira asked with a timid grin.
Irving gave her a dry look, but Duncan chuckled. "We need all the help we can get. Especially from the Circle. The power you mages wield is essential in battle against the darkspawn."
"Duncan," Irving stepped in. "Your talk of war and darkspawn will worry the girl." He turned to Zaira. "Surpassing the Harrowing was no small feat. It is an honor to have as a mage in the Circle child. Your phylactery has already been sent to Denerim."***
Any trace of a smile fell from Zaira's face and a cold look replaced it. "My leash you mean."
Irving gave her a soft, amused look. "Come child, it is not as horrible as it seems. You have always known it would be this way."
"That doesn't mean I have to like it."
"Excuse me, but what is this phylactery?" Duncan cut in. Zaira glanced at him and looked him up and down for a short moment. She suspected he'd only asked to stop the argument, so she summarized her definition.
"A phylactery," she said. "Is a sample of blood forcibly taken from each young apprentice. They can use it to track us."
Irving sighed, drawing their attention and changing the subject before she could start on a rant.
"Nevertheless, we are proud to have you join us. I present you with your robe, staff, and a ring bearing the Circle's insignia. Wear them proudly, for you have earned them."
Zaira took the items in her arms and glanced at them before looking at him uncertainly.
"So…what now?"
Irving chuckled. "You have been through an ordeal. We will speak of your duties later. For now, the day is yours."
Zaira glanced unsurely at her items again before inclining her head. "Thank you, First Enchanter."
"I think I shall retire as well, Irving." Duncan said, stepping forward.
"Ah. Zaira, before you leave, kindly show our guest to his quarters."
"Very well," she said, bowing slightly to Duncan now. "Messere, please follow me."
The warrior trailed after her down the hallway, and their footfalls made loud echoes reverberate against the stone walls of the tower. Uncomfortably aware of his presence, and not used to so little speech, she cleared her throat to ask a question.
"Who exactly do you want to come with you to Ostagar? If you don't mind my asking that is."
"That's up to Irving. I have no say in the matter." He glanced her way. "He did mention your excellent performance with the Harrowing. I think he may believe you would do well outside the Circle."
"Did he really?" Zaira asked, surprised.
"I doubt Greagoir would allow you to leave so soon after your apprenticeship," Duncan continued. "But perhaps I could send for you once some time has passed. I've no doubt you would be a great asset to us."
Zaira lowered her head. "I would be honored."
Once Duncan was safely in his quarters, Zaira left with a respectful farewell, intent on finding her own quarters and changing into her new robes. Instead, she ran into Jowan.
"Zaira!" he said in a panicked whisper. "Oh thank the Maker. I need help."
She took in his pale face, wide eyes, and disheveled look with amusement.
"I'll say. Ever heard of a mirror, Jowan?"
"Very funny. Just come with me."
Zaira shook her head with a smile before following her friend.
She would wish later she had taken him seriously.
A/N: No better time to write than six am when you've got nothing better to do.
This chapter's dedicated to Hatsepsut. Thanks for being there for me.
*I was listening to Kamikaze by Owl City while reading this part and totally rocking out. So it might not make sense.
**I so badly wanted to put "heated make out session"
***Been is a weird word. Stare at it for a little while. O_O