He missed home. The tower felt cold and dark, despite the effects of magic keeping the air warm and bouncing off the walls. He had lived there for two years now and he still could not get used it. Although, he thanked the Maker that he was used to walking up hills in Redcliffe. The stairs in the tower seemed to stretch on forever as well and the Templars' quarters were on the third floor. And since he was still relatively new, he was assigned to patrol the apprentice's floor. He wasn't sure whether that was a blessing or a curse. Aside from the apprentices accidentally setting themselves on fire providing an arsenal of entertainment for him, he also had to keep an eye that no stray arcane bolts destroy anything of particular importance. Then there was her.
She was the First Enchanter's star pupil, the last apprentice he had decided to take on. She was as chilling as a blizzard and as fiery as an inferno. She was as witty as she was beautiful, and people felt instantly attracted to her. She was Solona Amell and she had the most ridiculous habit of falling asleep on the tabletop. Even that, he found incredibly endearing.
Maker's breath, he was hopelessly smitten with her.
But she was a mage, and that was where it ended before it even began. She was a mage, and he was a Templar. He was sanctioned to protect and guard her from herself and others. He had a duty. It was something his seniors liked to remind him of when they caught him conversing with the other mages at times. The mages also seemed to like him, he supposed it was because he was not as strict as most Templars around them. However, they were still his peers and guarding them was no small feat. Even now one of the apprentices had accidentally unleashed a flurry of frost at everyone in the immediate vicinity. He turned in time and shielded his face. Ice crept up the back of his armour in thin tendrils. The Senior Enchanter sighed, dropping her arcane shield and dismissed the young apprentice to clean up the mess he had made. He had also heard someone yell and looked to his right to see Solona with half her body covered in ice. She shivered and bristled angrily. A shard of ice had cut her cheek and she reached up with her hand to touch it, wincing slightly.
"A-Are you alright?" he took a step forward to her.
The cut was shallow, but still, the idea of any kind of harm inflicted upon her made him angry. She looked up at him with her warm brown eyes and he had to take a deep breath to control his heart. No, never mind, it just sputtered and died in his chest. The frost was quickly starting to melt and now she was getting soaked.
"Yes, thank you, Cullen," she sighed, standing up. "I need to change out of these wet robes now."
He watched as she left to the dormitories, and return moments later. She was always in the library, her dark hair pulled up in a bun and tendrils framing her small and petite face. He had heard the high praises about her from the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander. It was highly unusual for an apprentice to command that much of respect. Especially from the Knight-Commander. Although to be fair, Greagoir was not a wholly unsympathetic Templar, as far as most Templars went. Cullen supposed it was because he and Irving had been friends for such a long time. Don't be mistaken though; they did have their share of petty squabbles as well.
But he understood, from the many times he had nothing else better to do during his routinely shifts in the library. She was a highly skilled mage, and absolutely beautiful. If it weren't for their separate positions in life, he might have tried his hand at wooing her. Although, he suspected that wouldn't turn out quite as well as he would imagine. She was confident in both her skills and appearance. While he was a stuttering, bumbling fool.
And again there she was, head slumped against the table and eyes closed, fast asleep. A mage he easily recognised (only because all the Templars pointed him out as the resident escape artist, and all the apprentices resented him for cancelling their yearly swimming lessons) walked up to her and brushed the feather of his quill along her nose. She stirred then jumped right out of her seat that he had to suppress a snort of laughter.
"Anders!" she cried out in annoyance. "What are you- Ugh, Maker."
"Rise and shine, sleepy head!" he said in a singsong voice.
She sighed. "Was there something you needed to have disrupted me from my oh-so-pleasant dreams?"
"I was just saving you from weeks of ridicule at the hands of passing apprentices," he replied. "To find the First Enchanter's star pupil slumped in a corner of the library, drooling across the tabletop. Oh, but the shame. And exactly what sort of pleasant dreams have I interrupted?"
He smirked mischievously.
"That's for me to know and for you to find out," she raised an eyebrow, mirroring his expression.
"You're such a tease," he sighed. "Anyway, I need help with this… proposal."
"Proposal?" she deadpanned. "A proposal on your latest scheme to escape the Tower? What have you hatched this time? Going to tunnel your way out with a spoon?"
"No, you horribly wretched woman," he scoffed. "I was going to propose to grow myself a set of wings and launch myself out of the highest window."
"Oh, I certainly approve of that plan," she grinned.
"I need a spirit stone from the stockroom," he said. "Torrin insisted I write a proposal before he signs the form."
"Can't you just ask Sweeney or Leorah?"
"I can't find Sweeney anywhere," he cried in dismay. "And Leorah hates me."
She laughed. "Oh, yes, I completely forgot about that."
"Solona, please," Anders pleaded. "Just read the damn thing."
"Oh, alright, give it here," she took the piece of paper from him and set to work.
After a moment, she looked up at him in shock.
"To do what?" she asked.
"What's wrong with it?" he furrowed his brows.
"It's- Are you sure?" she frowned.
"It's completely safe, I assure you!" he said. "Torrin didn't have a problem with my idea."
"But-" she looked around the library before her eyes rested on him. "Ser Cullen!"
He slid his eyes over to her nervously at her call.
"Y-yes…?"
"Is it appropriate to perform a small summoning of a nug spirit within the Tower?" she arched her brow further.
"I…" he looked at her, stunned. "I believe so."
"Oh," she looked at Anders apologetically then beamed. "Well, can I be in on this too?"
"I thought you might ask that."
She gathered her things and replaced the book she had borrowed back in its place before following Anders to find the Senior Enchanter. The section of the library he had placed himself at became terribly mundane once again. He started to walk around the library, until he believed he had stood around in every corner of the room. A group of apprentices had walked in an hour ago and he had contented himself to listen in on their conversations. Something dropped onto his head while he was staring at the opposite wall in a daze. The offending object dropped to the floor at his feet and the book opened itself, crumpling a few pages in the process. There was a cry of dismay and he turned around to find her.
"Oh, Andraste's mercy," she cried. "I'm so sorry, Cullen!"
He rubbed the back of his head and tried to smile. "Oh. It's quite alright. Uh…"
He reached down to retrieve the book from the floor, attempting to smooth back the now dog-eared pages before giving it back to her. He wondered how she had managed to get behind him without his noticing.
"It wasn't even the book I was trying to reach for," she mumbled, going on her tiptoes to put it back.
He helped her push it back into its rightful place on the top shelf.
"Which one were you after?" he asked.
"That one over there," she pointed to a heavy leather bound book. "Written by Brother Genetivi."
He pulled the hardcover book out of its slot and scanned the cover title. The History of Grey Wardens in Ferelden.
"Grey Wardens?" he asked as he handed the book over.
"Oh, it's just a bit of light reading," she shrugged sheepishly.
It was the first time he had ever seen her look so shy. And he had seen her a lot of times. Maybe a bit too much than he would care to admit.
"I like the stories about the griffons," she explained. "I know it's silly…"
"I know some of those stories," he smiled softly. "My father used to tell them to me."
"Really?" she looked up at him with those warm brown eyes of hers.
"Uh, yes…" he rubbed the back of his neck again. "He used to tell me bedtime stories about the Grey Wardens, a-about how they used to sweep down on the darkspawn on their great griffons and fly around in the sky battling the archdemons."
"It's so sad there are no more griffons," she pouted sadly. "My favourite story is the one about Ser Rylien and his golden griffon. Have you heard that one before?"
"I don't think I have…"
She gasped in delight as she recounted how Ser Rylien had tamed the apparently aggressive griffon with his wit and courage. The golden griffon accepted no other man, woman or child to touch him but for noble Ser Rylien. The day he perished in battle against the archdemon, the golden griffon laid down by his side and refused to move until eventually it too died alongside its master. He loved the way she started to get so animated, lost in her tale and fantasies. When she was done, she paused and looked up at him again with that sheepish look on her face.
"Sorry, I must be disturbing you," she said. "Uh… I'll just… I'll just go… now."
"N-no," he managed to blurt out. "You're not disturbing me at all! I mean, well, you are… but no… I mean. You can always talk to me."
He gave a small smile, which she returned with a wide grin.
"It must be pretty boring to stand guard everyday," she said. "I always see you here in the library though."
"Er… yes," he replied. "Well, it's not really that boring."
He shrugged at her expectant look.
"You hear some interesting things sometimes."
She giggled. "Oooooh, do share!"
"I-I don't know," he looked around.
"Awh, come now," she looked around as well. "There's nobody here."
He had heard about her incredible persuasive powers, even from the other Templars. The number of times she had managed to talk her way out of midnight excursions to the kitchen would have landed any other mage a Rite of Tranquillity.
He was pretty sure it was those damn eyes. And lips.
Maker, help his poor soul.
"Well, I had heard earlier…" he hushed his voice.
"Cullen! What in Andraste's blood are you doing?" one of the senior Templars turned the corner and caught them.
"Wha- Uh- Nothing! I was just-"
"Oh, Ser Alden!" Solona chirped innocently. "Ser Cullen was merely helping me procure this book from the top shelf. He's so much taller than me, you see, and I'm so short. I'm horribly sorry for distracting him from his duties. I'll just be off now, have a pleasant evening, Sers!"
She shot him a look over her shoulder before running off to the other side of the library. Alden watched her leave before turning his glare on him. He merely shrugged and resumed his guarding duty. Alden eventually walked away and Cullen finally allowed himself to relax a little. A few days later, he had been innocently patrolling the corridors one night when he heard someone quietly trying to draw his attention from a pillar on his left. He frowned, approaching the figure in the shadows. He had a mana-draining spell at the ready when a familiar face popped into the light.
"Maker's breath, what are you doing?" he hissed. "You know you're not supposed to be sneaking about outside hours."
"I fell asleep," she rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. He was really starting to adore that expression on her. "Nobody woke me up. I-uh- can you help me get back, please?"
He rubbed the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Wasn't this how Rod had been banished to the laundry room before? This woman was a horrible little tempting… minx! And he was horribly, and utterly infatuated with her. He tried to remember who was the other Templar that was patrolling the corridor around the apprentice's dormitories and remembered that it was Hadley. Maker's breath, he would not be able to get around that. Solona looked at him patiently as he turned ten shades of pale.
"I can't, the Knight-Captain is on duty tonight," he sighed. "I'm sorry, Solona."
"Oh, well, I guess I'll just have to stay here," she sighed, shrinking back into the shadows.
"What?" he looked at her in alarm. "Here?"
"In the shadows, yes," she hissed. "Don't tell Hadley!"
"Maker's mercy, Solona," he hissed back.
"Yes, Ser Cullen?" she leaned forward slightly, batting her eyelashes.
He closed his eyes in pain and tried to focus on his breathing. He had heard all the things people said about her. She was as notorious as that bastard Anders, and that was exactly how the two managed to get along so well. But unlike the male mage who had slept with practically half the Circle, Solona was the complete opposite. She danced around people, getting her way with her charm. She was not going to have him wrapped around her little finger. Oh, no…
Then he opened his eyes and looked into her brown ones, and her slightly parted red lips. And oh, Maker… he was a weak man. His resolve crumbled into ashes.
"Alright, just follow me," he said, trying to muster some nerve.
"You're bringing me back to the dormitory?" her eyes lit up.
"Yes, I'll distract Hadley," he told her.
He walked back down the corridor and she followed behind him, sticking to the shadows. Was she really a mage and not a rogue? He found Hadley standing right in front of the dormitory door and quickly tried to think up of an excuse.
"Knight-Captain," he called.
"Cullen? What are you doing away from your post?" Hadley looked up at him in surprise.
"I- uh- I heard something strange from the basement," he said.
"What? Are the Sentinels acting strangely?" the older Templar asked in alarm.
"I don't know, Ser, there was this loud rumbling and-"
"Let me see," Hadley rushed down the corridor.
He waited for a second, looking around for any signs of the mischievous apprentice but apparently, she was well concealed wherever she was hiding. Then there was a soft click as the dormitory door shut behind him.
She had to be the reincarnation of some kind of demon.
