He watched her approach the pedestal, the longing a familiar ache in his chest. His hand clenched and relaxed on the hilt of his sword as he prayed the Maker spare him, spare her, from the need to strike her down; may she make it through the Harrowing untainted.
He did nothing as her body stiffened and her breathing alternately increased rapidity and resumes normalcy. He absently wished he had more faith, more knowledge, more anything so that he could know that it would turn out well. She exhaled softly with the slightest smile as her body collapsed gracefully to the ground.
Irving nodded to him and gestured towards the lady. "Take her to her dorm. She has passed her Harrowing."
He did as instructed, lifting her slack form into his arms gently and cradled her to his chest. He did not listen to the discussion of his commander and the First Enchanter as he left the chamber; he was so very distracted by the feel of her breath fluttering against his neck and the slight weight of her in his arms.
Once he was away from the others, he stopped a moment and just… looked at her. He memorized her every feature, trying to burn the image into his brain for all of time; it was luck that he was able to be this close to her. There should never be such a chance as this again.
He shifted her weight in his arms and pulled off a gauntlet before slowly trailing a finger down her soft cheek and tracing the planes of her face. He kissed her forehead softly as he donned his gauntlet once more. Maker knew his sin.
He took a deep breath and tried to imprint the smell of her hair deep within his memory. He closed his eyes for a moment to savor the feel of her in his arms and wished, only for a moment, that he was not in full armor and could know how her body might feel against his. He basked in the restored calm, a calm he had not known since he first saw her all those months ago. She was his temptation, she was his weakness. She was everything he wished were his.
She never would be; never could be.
She could not change what she was, both an elf and a mage; and he would not forsake his own beliefs and violate the oath he swore. He was a Templar, one who enforced the Maker's Will, and she would forever be the very thing he would protect the world from.
He walked into the apprentice dorm, more than slightly surprised to find it empty. Then again, it was time for lessons and no excuses were tolerated for absences. He froze when he felt a slight hand on his cheek.
He looked down at her face; her breathing still deep and regular, as in sleep. Her fingers trailed down the side of his face, her smile sweet. "Cullen," she breathed.
The air stilled in his lungs as he stared at her face in astonishment. Indecision and surprise swirled in his mind and kept him rooted. She sighed softly and repeated his name, longing imbued in the single word. He closed his eyes and made his decision.
He knelt beside her bed and laid her down gently; a frown marred her brow. He removed his gauntlet once more and placed his hand on the side of her face. Her eyelashes fluttered as his thumb stroked her cheek but her eyes did not open. He leaned over her slowly, tilting her head, and slowly brushed his lips over hers in a whisper of a touch; and again with slightly more pressure. He rested his forehead against hers and ran his fingers through her hair; his lifted his head and noticed her smile.
He stood again with a sigh. There could be no more of this, would be no more. He looked at her as her replaced his gauntlet and wondered briefly if he should feel soothed to know that his infatuation was reciprocated; it just left him hollow with the knowledge that both of them would spend the whole of their life thinking and wishing.
He would have the memory of that day to comfort and torture him in turns throughout the lonely nights; she would not even have that. Maker would that she knew how he felt for her.'
It was only a handful of hours before she came across him in the hall. He stuttered like a boy, for the fact that he had been chosen to strike her down should she fail in her Harrowing, for the memory of the glimpse of intimacy that she had shared, though still unbeknownst to her. She had smiled and forgiven him his duty; she had then asked if they could go somewhere else and talk. His mind had fizzled as be was struck dumb.
She said that she had wanted to get to know him better.
He could not face the possibility of it all, a voice to the feelings. He ran; lucky to have avoided the hurt and confusion marring the face of the woman he left behind.
Not long after he stood apart as his commander and the First Enchanter confronted his lady, a blood mage, and his initiate lover. His head swam with thought of disillusionment and betrayal, pride and affection. She had helped her only friend and defended him against the accusations that he was a blood mage. She had refused to betray him and stood by her decision when Jowan had proved both she and Lily a fool.
She had not cowered in the face of punishment, willing to face the consequences of her actions; even when it was clarified that often the offense of assisting a blood mage was death.
The Grey Warden had stepped in, declaring that he would recruit her; either through her own choice or that of conscription. There was a sadness in her eyes as they locked with his; she knew then that her choice was no choice at all.
"I would be honored to join the Grey Wardens." Her voice was devoid of emotion.
Panic slowly started to sink into his being. She was leaving the tower; he was unlikely to see her again.
Maker's will be done he thought and grieved.