Hello Everyone, few words before moving onto the actual prologue (sorry)
i don't know if anybody is still waiting for this story. But just in case there are people still waiting;
I apologize for stopping the story midway without any notice - lots of things happened in my life. To list a few:
I had to change jobs three times, and now I'm working three different part time jobs, and went to school full time at the same time.
I had to move out of my old place as well - found a new place to move in.
Lost my beta readers - (love you guys!) - they're also very busy with their lives.
Things have not really changed. I still:
1) go to school full time
2) work 2 different jobs
3) have no time to eat and sleep
BUT
I have found out:
1) I have Major Cyclical Depressive disorder
2) writing and gaming seems to help me incredibly well
and you know what? I just really darn miss writing. So,
I am going to be writing again. It will be VERY SLOW. Because, you know, life. And sadly, I must still eat and sleep to function like most humans. At least once every three days.
Good news:
I have about 6 chapters in store I can post right away. I've been working on improving my writing, and I think you guys will really enjoy how I tidied up the story.
Some of you guys know, this story started off as a "quick porn with some plot" one shot. That is not how it went. Now, I have really fixed things up and focused the story more on Cullen Rutherford x Solona Amell.
I hope it was worth the wait for you guys. Thank you.
Bad news:
1) I HAVE NO BETA READER. I am searching, so if you are interested, PLEASE let me know. I needed a beta reader 3 months ago, and I still haven't found somebody.
I am now on patre(on)(TeencyHawk). Sorry guys, but with going to school full time and working two part time jobs, I simply just DO NOT have time to be creating for free. So my work is going on patre(on)(TeencyHawk).
Of course, I WILL be posting my works on AO3 and here at fanfiction when my posts open up to public, so do not worry!
The prologue is available today, with the second chapter available for purchase on 09/11/2017 on patre(on)(TeencyHawk) and available for public on 09/18/2017.
If you have any questions please leave comments or send me a message or an ask on tumblr. Once again, sorry for everything guys. And happy reading!
Maker, today was… exhausting. It could have been disastrous, though. Lethal, even. But thanks to my Mage, today ended with simply being… exhausting. Considering, I'll accept it.
Dust puffs up as my gauntlets thump onto the worn blankets over my bunk. With the dulling metal encasings off my hands, I assault the buckles holding my armor and sword in place.
Just what was that Mage thinking? Andraste preserve us, I realize he's barely held the title of Senior Enchanter for a scant three nights, but leaving those apprentices untended to in the library? He was damned well asking, no begging, for that fire to start. If it wasn't for my Solona freezing the entirety of the lower two levels of the tower…
Well, she is my Mage, my charge… there's nothing wrong with referring of her as mine, is there? Not that she really is mine… she is the First Enchanter's own apprentice after all. But among the Templars… no one has more claim over her than myself. I mean, even the Knight-Commander Greagoir consults me on the matters relating to her. She is my charge, and no one else's. So… it's okay.
Right…? It isn't really unnatural for the Templar to feel responsible for his charge. That's my duty, given to me by my sacred oath. So… my Solona… well, maybe my Mage. My Mage, I can't believe she froze the entire two lower levels of the tower, without freezing any breathing creature. Even the tower rats were spared from her icy grasp.
The last of my armor clangs against the stone floor and I sink onto the straw mattress on my bunk. The stray straws poke through the flimsy fabric and itches my bottom. Scratching is just asking for more irritation, but I dig my blunt nails through the breeches anyway.
I'll bet anything they brought these bunks up from the cells down in the basement. How else could the bedding be so bad?
Anyway, that's my Mage. Well, apprentice really, but by the Maker's beard we all know she's going to be the best Mage the tower's ever seen. Considering just today, other Senior Enchanters either panicked or threw ice spells around, attempting to counter the fire. Even the Templars had little choice than try to kill that young apprentice, since we could not Cleanse the fire without destroying the Rage draining the boy's mana to fuel the inferno. But then my Mage cast a single spell.
A single spell of Blizzard that froze every stone, book, and hot wax from burning candles in the lower two levels of the tower. Giving me a chance to strike the Rage, saving that boy. Maker's breath, we were a hairbreadth away from killing that boy. She is… my Mage, she is a wonder. A gift, to us all. With her gentle smile, and her fierce magic, all her overflowing power… I see why others may fear her, but she would never, ever be the threat they imagine her to be.
Ugh… why couldn't the Enchanters invent an enchantment that would allow the armor to get organized on the armor stand by itself? Must I put it away tonight? I'm so tired after… after the disaster halted in its tracks by my Mage. Maker, I can't call myself her Templar if I can't be bothered to even clean up after myself. She will be the best, most powerful Mage Ferelden has ever seen. If I am to be her Templar, to protect her, to keep her safe… by the Maker's beard I better be the best Templar the Order has ever seen. If I couldn't even put my damned armor on the stand, how could I be worthy of her trust?
…doesn't necessarily mean I must enjoy putting away my armor.
At least it's quick to organize them. I remember when I was a recruit I would get it all tangled up and it would all fall off the stand and...
I've improved much since my training. I wonder… will my Solona improve too? She is no doubt the most promising Mage Ferelden has ever seen. But… the Harrowing… what if… Maker, why can't she wake from the Fade on her own?
She wakes when I call to her. Every time I call her name, her gentle eyes blink open and she smiles up at me.
If I call to her.
If anyone else tried to wake her… sufficient to say, her flames puts the one sweeping through the library today to shame.
Solona Amell, my Mage. Who collapses onto her small apprentice bunk with exhaustion and falls asleep within seconds. My Solona, whom no one can wake without getting burned by her flames. The realm of the dreams resonates too strongly with my Mage. She can keep her wits about better than most Senior Enchanters can in the Fade. But she struggles to escape from the dreams, the tendrils of the spirits clinging to her long after waking. Fellow apprentices and mentoring Mages spend hours to properly wake her from the Fade, worry carved into their face lest she becomes Fade-struck.
I guess it's a small price to pay for having so much magic, she laughed. I'll forever be the tower's legendary sleepyhead.
Chills shiver down my spine as I remember her words.
She knows not of the Harrowing. She would defeat the demons with ease, with certainty. But if she were to be trapped in that realm as she is, wandering through the murky land as she does each night, enraptured by its mysteries, then the Templars would execute her.
Let me wake you, then, I remember forcing out with a chuckle.
What, you think you'd be immune to my flames?
No, but I'll wake you nonetheless. Promise you'll wake when I call you.
Cullen…?
Promise me. Swear to me. My Mage, I am your Templar; I give you my word, I will never leave you to wander the Fade alone. Hear my voice, search for my presence, and I swear I will be by your side. Wake for me.
…I will, my Templar. I will wake when you call me forth. Anchor me, protect me, and I will never fail to answer your voice. I swear to you, my Templar, my Cullen. I will wake for you, and only for you.
"*~*"
"Rutherford!"
Maker's stinky, hairy arse, who the…
"Knight-Captain! Ow!"
Heat flares up where I've hit my head on the bed post. I somehow stand upright, stars spinning in my eyes, saluting.
What in Andraste's flaming tits is the Knight-Captain doing in our quarters?!
He seems mighty displeased with me, the way he is examining me from head to foot…
"Gear up, Rutherford. Full armor, report to the Harrowing Chamber in fifteen."
He spits out before stomping out the door.
Fifteen?! He expects me to put on full armor and run up the tower in fifteen? Harrowing Chamber is on the highest floor of the entire tower! Why the hell would I even be expected at the Harrowing Chamber? They would instruct a week prior for a Harrowing duty. Fifteen? This is ridiculous. It's as if they tried to keep it secret from-
Maker's breath.
It's as if they tried to keep it a secret from me.
I fly toward my armor stand, clasping the pieces on as fast as my numbing limbs would allow. Warmth leaks from the tips of my fingers and I scrabble uselessly against these damned tiny buckles. My helm clangs against the floor as it slips through my grasp.
They would keep it secret from me for only one reason. It's her. It's her Harrowing.
I hop over the threshold, tugging my sabaton onto my foot before lacing the clasp tight. Ignoring the looks the night duty Templars are throwing me, I pelt down the curving corridor.
I must be wrong. It can't be. She's too young. She's sixteen! No Mage has ever gone through their Harrowing so early. Surely I am overreacting. No one in their right mind would force her through the Harrowing at her age!
But,
Maker preserve her, no one's ever seen a Mage with her potentials either.
Why are there so many accursed stairs in this tower?!
She's not ready. She can't do it. She still can't wake on her own. Maker, please, it can't be her turn. This is nothing but my imagination going wild. This is ridiculous. Her Harrowing? Ha! Even Jowan hasn't had his Harrowing yet. Hers isn't due for years! There is no way the First Enchanter would allow it.
But if the Knight-Commander were to force the issue… even the Chantry has been keeping a closer eye on her lately. What if… Maker, if it really is her Harrowing… what am I going to do? What can I do? What am I supposed to do?
Should I take her and run?
Cullen Stanton Rutherford, what the hell are you thinking?
Finally! The Harrowing Chamber!
I slam the doors open, panting. An entire troop of Knights is already present, encircling the basin at the center of the room. All eyes turn to rest on me, but none of them are hers.
Praise the Maker, she is not here.
"You're late!"
I flinch at the voice. I didn't even notice the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter standing by the basin.
"Ser!" I salute. The heavy door creaks back to close behind me.
"Get over there, Rutherford." He jerks at the spot remaining open, closest to the basin at the center of the room.
The executor's place.
"Now, Rutherford!" The Knight-Commander snaps and I trudge forward.
There's something wrong with me. It's as if there's a vice squeezing my heart. My lung's up in my throat, and I can't pull in a decent breath.
I reach the spot and freeze. I think I might be sick. It's a good thing my helm hides my face from others right now.
The Knight-Commander snorts before crossing his arms and glares at the slab of stone door I just walked through. It's silent now, heavy, sickly silent. Minutes trickle by, but there's no noise, no movement, just the suffocating silence punctuated by the Knight-Commander's disgusted grunts.
My longsword hangs heavy by my side… Maker, I have never been so aware of my blade before. My helm fogs up on the inside, the hot moisture from my pants clinging to the icy metal. I unclench my balled-up fist, and then clench again.
Gazes of other Knights are prickling me. They all know she is my Mage. And that I am her Templar. One of them shifts, and I imagine them whispering rumors about the apprentice going through her Harrowing tonight.
"She's late," the Knight-Commander growls and glares at me, as if her tardiness is somehow my doing. In some sense I suppose it is. If they had sent me to wake her for the Harrowing, she would not have been late.
If they had sent me to wake her, I might have taken her and ran.
No! No, that's ridiculous. That would make her an apostate. I will guard her as her Templar. Andraste guide me, how can I protect her now? How do I keep my Mage safe? How can I keep her as my Mage, keep our bond the same? Guide me to the path I must take to-
The stone door creaks open, the squeak of rusted hinges pumping my heart faster. Footsteps echo and she steps into the chamber.
Tousled hair gathered into a messy bun, sleep still clinging to the corners of her eyes, and a matching set of crumpled apprentice robes. She doesn't even look around the room – her gaze pierces me in an instant.
She knows I am here. I must look the same as the others, but she sees me hidden behind my Templar helm.
"Good evening, everyone. I am sorry I'm late." she smiles, rubbing her eyes to wipe away the last traces of sleep. No one answers her greeting, but she continues anyway.
"I am sorry to disturb your rest," she yawns.
There is not an ounce of tension in her body as she arches like a cat to stretch. My wringing stomach threatens to heave, and I taste bile in my mouth. The sword weighs a ton on my belt.
I've seen failed Harrowings before. Struck out at abominations, fallen Mages. The ones who fell asleep and never opened their eyes again. I remember them.
Her eyes seek my own across the chamber.
My hands tremble and I grip the pommel until my fingers tingle. They're all staring at me. Me, her Templar. Her eyes never waver from me as the First Enchanter and Knight-Commander explains the Harrowing to her. The buzz in my ears deafens the quiet murmurs of instruction. Why isn't anyone pointing out the loud hammering of my heart? Someone must be able to hear how loud it is beating.
Her eyes, what if she never opens those eyes again? Since the day she promised, she has never failed to open her eyes when I called to her in the Fade. But this is her Harrowing; no one will be calling her name, least of all me.
"I understand, First Enchanter."
"You are ready," the Knight-Commander points toward the center basin.
No, she is not ready! She is the youngest Mage to ever take her Harrowing. She's only sixteen. No one in their sane mine could ever think she is ready!
"Yes, Knight-Commander. Allow me a word before we begin."
The Knight-Commander scowls, but he nods anyway. In that instant, she cuts all out of her world except me. She closes that short distance between us.
A word, before her Harrowing begins. My head feels like it'll explode and there's something happening to my heart. The closer she comes more certain I am that it'll burst.
"My Templar,"
Solona stops in front of me, looking up to meet my eyes through the narrow slit in the helm. I want to say something, anything, but I am forbidden.
She makes no move to touch me, or even pause to wait for me. She tilts her head and smiles.
"You swore."
I swore? I swore to follow the Maker's will. I swore myself to the Order. And I swore… I will be by her side always, as her Templar.
"Leave me not to wander the Fade alone," she grins. How can she smile? How can she look so carefree? She is a good Mage, an excellent one, the best! But the Fade clings to her spirit and I cannot speak her name to call her back. I trust her abilities, more than anyone to see this trial through. But the Fade…
"My Templar, I trust you."
She turns away to face the basin of lyrium.
Trust me? Trust that I will do… what? Stand there gawking? Lose my tongue and my head, and watch her walk to her potential death? Stand by, helpless to aid my Mage in any way?
"Rutherford, strike the killing blow should she fail to return," the Knight-Commander snaps. Something too tight clamps over my throat, and stars flash before my eyes. I think I am shaking now, my bones rattling under my skin. The killing blow. To kill my Mage. To stop her from ever waking up again.
She throws a glance over her shoulder and rolls her eyes at me.
As if he needed to say it out loud, she winks.
…as if we hadn't already promised each other long time ago, I echo.
Ah, what an idiot I am!
The world spins and I nearly stumble as tension leaks out and I deflate. I am vaguely aware that I am no longer strangling the neck of my pommel.
There's a chuckle bubbling up inside my chest. A grin spreads on my face, and the tightness in my muscles drain. She sees me relax and winks once more before facing the basin and stretching a hand over it.
How could I have been so stupid? My Mage, she places an unwavering, undeserving faith in me.
I will be by her side, keep her company and protect her from any harm, even from herself. I will not allow her to wander alone in the lonely realm of the Fade no matter what shall happen. And should the worst come to pass, I will be her salvation.
She entrusts me with her death, to strike the killing blow. She trusts me to be her Templar and soars free through her dreams, knowing I will do what I must should she fall to possession.
And I swear she will die by no one's hands but my own.
I am such a fool. How could I possibly have forgotten our truth?
All the promises, all the oaths of us, reinforced with our trust. Her death has always been in my hands, and mine alone.
She has placed her life in my hands, and I have placed my heart in hers. This is us.
Her smile grows on her face, brilliant and calming, and confident. Confident in her abilities, and confident in mine.
And I am confident, more than ever, that she will return. She will keep my heart safe just as I will keep her safe.
"Well then, everyone. I'll be back shortly!" She laughs and waves her hand in goodbye as it begins to glow lyrium blue.
The sudden flash of light blinds me and when I blink the tears out of my eyes she is slumped on the floor, eyes closed, breaths even, and everyone in the room turns to look at me.
"Well?" The Knight-Commander growls.
I take a step, then two, approaching my Mage. Others expect me to draw my blade and stand over her prone figure with the edge bared against her neck, ready to behead her.
I kneel by her side and cradle her to my armor. This is not in accord to standard protocols.
But it doesn't matter, because I'm her Templar. I draw my dagger against her pale throat.
My Mage flicks a finger as if she's casting. Her magic sings in my blood, flows in my veins. I lean low over her head, holding her safe in my arms. My dagger press against her carotid, but not enough to break her translucent skin. She flicks her finger again and I imagine her tilting her head to listen for my voice, for her path back home.
"Solona," I breathe.
"Wake up,"