Sometimes Cullen stood in the gallows long enough to see her walk by: Katherine Hawke. Now, he was not fascinated by her, but rather fascinated by what she represented. She represented something he wanted. She represented something he never could have.
They looked too similar and it pained him inside. Why, oh why, did Amells follow him around wherever he went? First in Ferelden, now in Kirkwall.
He would stare at her: same dark skin, same dark hair, same golden eyes.
But the two were so different. They carried themselves in remarkably different ways. Hawke was loud, boisterous and constantly joking. His Amell was quieter, more subdued, and the most kind hearted person he had ever met. She possessed a sense of curiosity that was remarkable all on it's own too.
His Amell.
The templar shook his head at the thought. She wasn't his. She was never his. He didn't even know where she was right now. Somewhere in Ferelden, no doubt. Or maybe not even there. She could be in Antiva for all he knew.
And the fact he had no idea where she was disappointed him.
Sometimes when Hawke talked to him he saw glimpses of the Amell he used to know.
The tower's corridors are long and narrow. He is walking with his templar brethren. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her sitting alone with a book in her hand and stops. She does not look up, but continues to read despite the large echo of armored steps. One of her fellow mages goes up to her – a man with long black hair and a sheepish grin – and her gaze turns up slightly. She gives a smile.
And with that smile came an infatuation.
He fell in love with that smile.
But smiles fade away.
Juts like his memories of her.
Ferelden seems like such a far away place. Being there in the tower seems like a far away time. It isn't, but it feels like it.
Those templars he had been walking with that day he first saw her are dead. His brethren, his friends, all of them: dead. Killed by mages.
He blamed them at first, "Mages are at fault. Mages killed my comarades. Every mage in the tower could be corrupt."
But he was foolish, young, and wrong. He didn't want to admit it, but it wasn't the fault of all mages. It was the fault of one mage. One mage who influenced a group of mages.
He could never imagine her doing such a thing. Blood on her hands from killing innocent people? No, he could never imagine that ever. The only blood on her hands was that of darkspawn, abominations and those who needed to be killed.
He walks the halls of the tower. It's almost time for the mages' curfew. He sees her in the library – a face buried in a book just like the last time he saw her. She has stacks of books next to her. The same mage he saw last time approaches her. He is close enough to hear some of their conversation.
"Studying again, Rosie. You'd think you'd have read the entire library by now," the black-haired mage jests.
She looks back at him and smiles, "Jowan, it would do you better to read more yourself. You think we're going to be apprentices forever? There's so many techniques and spells to learn."
Her voice sounds so innocent, mixed with a hint of seduction. Her golden eyes brighten at the talk of learning and knowledge. Cullen stares at her. Never has he seen a mage so enthralled in learning. Never has he seen a mage so beautiful. Never has he seen a mage he moreso wanted to protect than her.
Templars must enforce but protect as well. It was something he forgot until now. He was so obsessed with mages and corruption that he failed to see how a templar might be corrupt as well.
"This will be your first harrowing to stand watch, Cullen. If she fails, you will be the one to kill her. Understood?" Knight Commander Greagoir asks him sternly.
The young Cullen nods repeatedly, not saying a word.
The Knight Commander nods back and looks over at the first enchanter, "Bring Rosemary Amell to the harrowing chamber."
He can't imagine his Amell full of corruption. He can't imagine killing her. But he will if need be because he is a servant of the Maker and it is his duty.
He watches the little things Hawke does. He watches to see if they resemble any glimmer of his Amell, but sadly they do not. Her smile is different, her laugh is different, her walk is different. Everything is different except her hair, eyes, and skin color and the fact they both could cast spells.
She passes her harrowing in record time. The First Enchanter and Knight Commander are surprised by the level of her success. She is out cold though, the strain from having travelling into the fade getting to her. The Knight Commander looks at Cullen and orders him to carry her to the apprentice's quarters where she will remain while she recovers and while they set up a room for her in the main mage quarters as well.
He picks her up slowly, her frame is light and delicate to the touch. She doesn't weight much at all. He finds himself distracted as he walks down the tower's steps but does not falter. He will not drop his Amell, but he can't help staring at her fluttering eyelids and the way her lips moved ever so slightly in her sleep.
He wished her eyes were open so he could stare directly at those big, beautiful golden orbs but he knows that if she opened her eyes in the slightest he would flee at the sight of a speck of gold.
But Maker, is she beautiful.
He heard the tale of the Hero of Ferelden all too many times and couldn't believe that his Amell was the one who defeated the Archdemon. Well, he could believe it, but he didn't want to believe it. She was probably a changed woman since the last time they met. He wondered if that innocence she possessed was still inside her or if the blight took her naivety away.
He waits outside the apprentice's quarters for any sign of her waking up. Maybe he could say something to her today. He could tell her he was at her harrowing. He could congratulate her. He could introduce himself.
As the templar fumbled over the ideas in his head, he didn't even notice the petite mage approaching him. She looked at him oddly, causing him to jolt back in surprise, "Oh...Um..Hello...Glad to see your harrowing went smoothly..."
He's a mess of jumbled words and messy sentences but she stares at him, a coy smile playing upon her lips, "Why are you stuttering?"
"T-They picked me to strike the killing blow if you became an abomination. I-It's nothing personal, I swear! I...uh, I'm just glad you're alright, you know," he fumbled back in response.
Maker, this was the worst introduction known to man. But she seemed to already know who he was. That this wasn't an introduction. Maybe she did know who he was. Mages tended to like to know who the the templars watching over them were.
She looks at him earnestly. Her bright gold eyes show a bit of curiosity and she cocks her head to the side as if poising herself to ask a question, "Would you have struck me down?"
And he knew the answer to that but didn't want to. He would have struck her down. He would have out of mercy.
"I would have felt terrible about it. But...But I serve the Chantry and the Maker and I do as I am commanded," the templar meekly answered.
His Amell stares at him, a smile forms upon her lips – one he has never seen before. It looks somewhat deceptive, like a cat, "Maybe we could go elsewhere and discuss this?"
"What do you mean?" Ideas of forbidden things form in his head. He must not do any of them. He is a man of the Maker. He serves the Chantry and must uphold his vows. Mage/templar fraternization is something that happens. He knows some of his brethren take advantage of mages. He knows some of his brethren do not respect the vows. But he does. He respects the vows he took and what they stand for.
"I've seen the way you look at me."
He's caught. He hadn't been doing a good job of hiding his emotions. It was only a matter of time before someone saw. How did she know? Had she caught him staring at her in the library one too many times?
"Oh my goodness. If you're saying what I think...then that would be very inappropriate...and I couldn't...I-I should go..."
He never should have went. Would forsaking his vows have been that bad? He wondered that to the day. He wondered about what would have happened if he had been like the majority of templars. He wondered what would have happened if he was not as resolute in his convictions. He wondered what would happen if he had broken his vows that day.
And then he knew. He would be dead. The demons in the tower that came afterward would have gotten to him if he was not resolute. They would have preyed on him if he was weak.
Cullen was not a weak man in any way.
He's seen atrocity after atrocity. He sees the blood and faces of his brethren. He sees mages he had sworn to protect turn into demons. He sees a demon eat his friends. He sees horror after horror and they won't stop.
He prays and prays to the Maker for salvation.
And salvation comes in the form of dark skin, dark hair and golden eyes. Her eyes widen at the sight of him and she runs toward his prison. She must be some sort of illusion, some sort of temptress in disguise. He tries and tries to dispel her away but she won't go.
She is the one thing he cannot have, but wants more than anything. He is infatuated with her from her head to her toes and everything in between.
But she cannot save him. She has come to save those who have imprisoned him. She has come to save her fellow mages in distress. She is convinced that there are innocents up there with Uldred. His Amell was always a pacifist. She always followed the rules. She wanted to learn and grow strong, not for strength's sake but because she was fascinated with it. His Amell was an oddity among mages.
But she was not his and never was.
He hears stories of her. She had fallen in love with some Elven Assassin apparently. Some rumors said she was lovers with the King of Ferelden as well. He didn't know what to believe exactly. After all, his Amell was never really his.
So sometimes he stands at his post in the gallows and watches as dark skin, dark hair and golden eyes come buzzing past him. It's Hawke again, come to the gallows on various quests. No templar in this town could apparently do their own work.
Sometimes he wishes he had never taken the vows, other times he is thankful for everything the templar order has given him in his life.
Sometimes he wishes that dark skin, dark hair and golden eyes was Rosemary coming to approach him again with that coy smile gingerly on her lips.
And sometimes wishes come true.
"Excuse me sir, I have an appointment with the Knight Commander regarding Grey Warden busi...Cullen, is that you?
A/N: Wrote this for a friend on tumblr. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's a one shot fyi. The ending is open but I honestly have no plans of writing anymore so yeah.