Wynne was relieved to hear the words from Celeste's mouth; it was the pragmatic choice in her eyes to spare an innocent life even if it meant overlooking a guilty one. "I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry-"
Cullen was terrified, not only of the memories of what he had seen, but of the power of a blood mage. "You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle. Of Ferelden." After seeing all of his fellow templars die a slow, torturous death, he was adamant not to let it happen again. Celeste's calming voice was a noticeable contrast to his own defensive tone. "Cullen, do you remember what you said to me, when I spoke to you after my Harrowing?" Cullen closed his eyes as he thought back. "I... I said plenty of things." He still felt an attraction to Celeste, that now not only filled him with regret of his vows but with fear of her potential as an abomination. "You said that as long as you did what the Maker commanded, you couldn't possibly go wrong." He could feel his face redden at the thought that she had listened to him so tentatively. He shook his head; no. Remember the power. Remember what's at stake.
"The Maker wouldn't want innocent blood on our hands, Cullen."
Damn her. Damn her sincerity. Damn the power that she'd had over him since the day he spoke to her. Never had a conversation been so difficult. He conversed with Celeste as gracefully as he could walk up stairs backwards and blindfolded. He couldn't help but to be lost in all of her attributes entirely, making thought all the more impossible.
The way her hair fell so perfectly into her face as she studied her magic, that hair that was a beautiful tangle of charcoal locks.
The way she smiled at him as she approached his post, that smile that made his body seize up and made him forget he wasn't breathing.
The breeze of her smell that she would bring, that smell that he wished would fill his lungs for the rest of his life.
The way she looked at him with those eyes, those eyes that glimmered and shined with raw benevolence and ethicality.
The way she carried herself through the hallways, that walk that mesmerized him at every step; that held a grace and fluidity that he envied.
And her voice, oh her voice; the way she wove each word into a symphony that smoothly found its way into his mind, harmonious and pleasant. And when she said his name with that voice, his heart rose in his chest, and his stomach contorted into an uncomfortable knot, and if only he could just bring himself to say something...
He closed his eyes in acceptance. "Very well. I suppose... I suppose that's what the Maker would want." She smiled -- oh, that smile -- and he began to wonder if this wasn't another mind game after all when she said that she was happy to see him again. Cullen sat in his prison, listening to the battle above him, left to contemplate the mage who had come back into his life, as well as regret what he had revealed to her. Cullen was convinced Celeste was only another vision, and soon was saying much more than he would ever think to say to the real woman.
Cullen, soon after taking his vows at sixteen, was assigned to the Circle Tower, and for three long years watched Celeste's world from afar, spending much of the day just wondering what she was thinking about. He also studied those she spoke with, feeling a certain jealousy to the male apprentices that talked with her. A jealousy laced with envy, that they could speak to her confidently, while he stood like a dolt, stumbling over himself at just the mention of her name.
He was sheltered at the Chantry, not giving him much of an exposure to members of the opposite gender his age, and so was utterly inexperienced at handling his infatuation. His words stumbled out of his mouth when he spoke to her, and she spoke with an almost rehearsed fluidity and confidence, articulating her thoughts like he wish he could around her. Every time Celeste walked away he felt a vague sense of regret that he couldn't prove to be a more experienced conversationalist.
He also felt regret that he felt this way at all. His steadfast piety, he thought, was all he needed to prove himself loyal to the Maker, to the Chantry, to the templars. But it wasn't enough. Many a night he spent thinking about her, and wondering if other templars had felt that way toward mages. Then his mind wandered to Knight-Commander Greagoir, and Cullen wondered if even he, deep past the cold and emotionally detached facade, ever loved.
Cullen was ripped from his thought by the barrier fading. Relief spread over him that they were defeated, but the thought of abominations in the tower again was nagging at the back of his mind. Celeste soon walked down with First Enchanter Irving and her companions in tow. Cullen joined them on their trek back to the first floor.
Knight-Commander Greagoir had finished thanking Celeste for restoring order, and was soon leaving to look through the tower. "Please, excuse me. And Irving... it is good to have you back." He had began to turn and walk away, but a tentative look at Cullen deep in thought had Greagoir halted. "Grey Warden," Greagoir spoke in a sympathetic tone, "before you go, speak with me again." She nodded, and went on to ask Irving about assistance in the Blight.
Cullen was still thinking of all he had seen in that room. Of what he had heard coming from the Harrowing Chamber. Of her. Of his vows. Of what would happen to him if he just walked out of the tower, took the ferry over the lake, and just kept walking. Images of the visions he saw flooded his mind, and he shook his head violently, trying to rid himself of the thought. He quickly turned at the sharp scream of another templar lying on the floor. He decided it would be best if he tried to help or comfort him, or anything.
After Celeste had gotten an agreement from Irving to send the few mages he could provide into battle, she went to speak to Greagoir as he had asked. She found him in the library, slowly walking through the halls, deep in thought. He turned and his expression changed from contemplation back to the serious scowl she always saw him in. "Ah, right. I have a favor to ask of you, Grey Warden." She didn't ask why he couldn't have asked her earlier and decided that it wasn't important.
"Cullen... has seen horrific things, and he seems very much lost in thought." Greagoir took a seat on the table in the rare space that was free of books. "I was hoping to get him out of the tower, get his mind off of... what happened." Celeste nodded.
"I wanted to know if Cullen could come with you in your travels. He was one of the templars I was going to select for battle, and this way's only different in the sense that he'll be fighting the Blight more directly." The mage was still slightly in shock. Greagoir, allowing a mage authority over a templar. "I think it's best for the boy's sanity. Could he travel with you?" Celeste paused at first, then nodded in agreement, "As long as this isn't some secret attempt to keep me in check." Greagoir stood from the table and met the mage's eyes. "You are a Grey Warden and a strong-willed mage. I believe you can function without the Chantry." His eyes looked across the faces of her companions, and then met hers again. "Despite your little stunt with Jowan, I trust you. For some reason."
Walking together back to the entrance, Knight-Commander Greagoir walked over to Cullen, who was hovering over the wounded templar, trying desperately to occupy his mind. "Cullen," Greagoir's voice was commanding and Cullen turned immediately. "I have an arrangement for you. You are to travel with the Grey Warden and aid in the efforts against the Blight." Cullen at first looked quickly between her and the Knight-Commander. He stammered out, "H-has she agreed?"
"Yes, Cullen." Greagoir put an affirming hand on his shoulder. "I'm sure you will represent the templars with great skill." Cullen nodded and gave a sheepish smile. "Do I.. need anything?" Greagoir shook his head. "The Grey Warden will supply that." Cullen then shook hands with the Knight-Commander and walked over to Celeste. She smiled, oh that smile; "Glad to have you Cullen." He gulped a painful gulp, and nodded.
Wynne had a knowing grin across her face as she looked up at the templar. Cullen just kept his head down as he walked out of the tower, feeling as though it were all some elaborate prank. He heard his quickening heartbeat in his ears as Celeste used him for balance when she climbed into the ferry, not realizing she had rested her hand on his shoulder. The only seat left was, in fact, next to her.
This was going to be a painfully awkward time for Cullen. He gripped his knees and avoided eye-contact with everyone.
But every time he breathed in, he could smell her scent, and a smile spread across his face.