So this idea came to me while watching The Notebook and playing Dragon Age: Origins, and I just couldn't help myself, despite the fact that I'm already working on another fic. I'm not intending for this one to be super long, though. Hope you enjoy!
"Are you all right? Say something, please..."
An annoyingly insistent voice roused Solona Amell from a deep slumber. Her body felt strangely heavy as she tried to sit up, searching for the owner of the offending voice. Her blurry eyes could barely make out the familiar face in the flickering of the candlelight.
"Jowan?" she croaked, sleepily.
"I'm glad you're all right. They carried you in this morning. I didn't even realize you'd been gone all night. I've heard about apprentices who never come back from Harrowings. Is it really that dangerous? What was it like?"
The memories of the previous evening came flooding back as the haze of sleep cleared from her head. She had entered the fade and passed her Harrowing. She almost couldn't believe that she had truly done it. She was a fully harrowed mage now.
"It was...harrowing," she replied, feeling rather clever as she gave him her evasive answer.
"Is that why they don't tell us what it's about? I know I'm not supposed to know...but we're friends. Just a little hint, and I'll stop asking, I promise!"
"Patience. You'll go through it soon enough."
Despite her dismissal of the subject, Jowan continued on about the Harrowing before moving to the subject of tranquility. He was afraid that he would be made Tranquil instead of being given the chance to pass his Harrowing, but Solona thought his fears were baseless. It was only natural for a mage to fear the Rite of Tranquility, after all. Finally, she felt her patience wearing thin as he continued on about the Tranquil working in the stockroom. He seemed to get the hint as she sighed wearily.
"I shouldn't waste your time with this. I was supposed to tell you to see Irving as soon as you woke up."
"What for?" she asked, interest piqued. Hadn't he thought it important to bring this up in the first place?
"He didn't tell me. About the Harrowing, I'd guess, but you never know with Irving. You'd better not keep him waiting. We can speak later."
Deciding to follow his advice not to keep the First Enchanter waiting, Solona bid farewell to her friend and hurriedly made her way through the stone tower toward the stairs leading to the second floor as her peers and mentors alike congratulated her on a successful Harrowing. Wending her way through the cluttered shelves and practicing apprentices in the library, she had but to climb the stairs to enter the mages' quarters. Before she could begin her ascent, however, she was pulled aside by a tittering brunette apprentice.
"I heard Cullen's in love with you!" she gasped excitedly through fits of poorly suppressed giggles. Solona gave the gossiping young woman a small smile, not trusting herself to speak. She excused herself politely while desperately hoping that her face wasn't quite as red as it felt. If only there was even a speck of truth behind the girl's words.
Ser Cullen was incredibly kind, even to the mages, which was unusual for a Templar. He kept a reasonably professional distance between himself and his charges, but that did not prevent him from being pleasant and friendly. He was young, maybe twenty or so, and rather handsome, with softly curling golden locks that he styled as neatly as he could. Solona had often wondered how it would feel to run her fingers through them. But the best thing about him, in Solona's opinion at least, was his endearingly shy nature. He was always stuttering nervously whenever he spoke to her. It made it easy for her to believe his overtures of friendship were sincere and without ulterior motive.
She was lost in thoughts of Cullen, her feet carrying her up the stairs and through Owain's stockroom as she continued on her way through to meet with the First Enchanter. Her footfalls echoed softly off the curved stone walls as she walked. It was so much quieter in the mages' quarters than it was in the apprentice quarters.
Room after room passed from her view as she continued through the circular hall, until she spotted the figure of a lone templar with curly, blond hair standing against the wall between the entryways of the Chantry and the First Enchanter's office. Solona blushed softly as she recalled the silly apprentice's rumors concerning the man standing in front of her. She watched him for a brief moment before his amber eyes alighted upon her and approached him with a shy smile.
"Oh, um, h-hello. I...uh, am glad to see your Harrowing went smoothly," he stammered in greeting at her approach.
"Hello, Cullen," she replied serenely.
"Th-they picked me as the Templar to strike the killing blow if...if you became an abomination. I-It's nothing personal; I swear!" he continued on awkwardly. "I...uh, I'm just glad you're all right. You know."
He sounded genuinely relieved, and Solona's smile widened a bit. Was this just friendly concern, or was there truth to the girl's gossip after all. Before she could manage to stop herself, she had asked the question.
"Would you really have struck me down?"
"I would have felt terrible about it…But...But I serve the Chantry and the Maker, and I will do as I am commanded."
Solona found she wasn't disappointed by his answer in the least. His sense of duty was commendable. She found it only endeared him to her more. After all, he had admitted that he would have felt regret if he had been forced to...well she didn't want to think about that. Something in her felt emboldened by his words.
"Maybe we could go elsewhere and...continue our discussion?" she purred, hoping she sounded at least a little seductive. She had never actually propositioned a man before. After all, Cullen was the only man in which she had ever had any sort of interest.
"Elsewhere? What do you mean?" he inquired with a nervous chuckle, sounding even more naive than Solona had ever thought possible.
"I've seen the way you look at me…," she trailed off, giving him as suggestive a look as she could muster, hoping desperately all the while that the rumor she had heard minutes ago was more than just that. But, her hopes were quickly dashed. The horrified look on his face was all the answer she needed, but he spoke the words anyway.
"Oh, my goodness. If you're saying...what I think...that would be really...inappropriate and...I couldn't. I...I should go."
And he was gone, all but sprinting from her presence. She could feel her cheeks burning with humiliation. She had been completely rejected.
x.X.x
Solona sighed at the memory as her mind wandered once again to a certain handsome Templar. She preferred this memory of him to the recollection of his confessed infatuation. That particular memory was tainted, as his fascination with her had been twisted into something unbearable. She much preferred this memory of Cullen before such horrors had befallen him. In spite of his rejection, she now remembered this interaction fondly. But it had happened in a time before blights, civil wars and arch demons. A time when she was younger and much more innocent. A time before Alistair and the Grey wardens.
Her gaze traveled to the man snoring softly beside her inside their shared tent. It was strange making camp with just Alistair by her side. Now that the Archdemon was slain and Anora safely in possession of Ferelden's throne, she and her fellow Grey Warden were free to do whatever they wished with their time.
She leaned down and placed a kiss on Alistair's brow, grateful to have him by her side. Thanks to Morrigan and her...uncomfortable ritual, Solona had been able to return to his arms after the final conflict. Alistair had lost so much already; his mother, Duncan, any chance of having any sort of family with his horrible sister Goldanna. She did not want him to have to suffer yet another loss. But, she never would have allowed him to sacrifice himself. Solona was nothing if not a selfish woman, and she would not have been left to suffer life without him.
Still her love for Alistair could not keep her mind off of Cullen. A few days ago, before they had left Denerim, she had dreamt of the Templar, and she had been dwelling upon his fate ever since. She wondered if he still harbored his hatred for mages or if he had managed to overcome the inner demons left behind by the abominations. Did he even survive the blight at all? For some reason she could not explain, Solona felt compelled to discover the answer to these questions.
"Why are you not sleeping, my love?" Alistair mumbled, interrupting her thoughts. He draped a well-muscled arm around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. "There are no more nightmares to keep us awake."
"Yes, you are right," she sighed, snuggling backward into the muscular expanse of chest pressed against her bare back. She loved the feeling of his warm flesh against hers. With that final thought lingering in her mind, Solona drifted off into a peaceful slumber, held tightly in his arms.
x.X.x
The sun had just began its daily ascent over Ferelden when Solona woke. Taking care not to disturb Alistair's rest as she dressed, she rose from the tent. The sunrise had painted the sky in brilliant shades of orange and pink as it climbed over the darkened outline of the Dragons' Peak mountain range. Somewhere nearby birds were chirping loudly as they flitted playfully from tree to tree.
They were only a few days outside Denerim, having just left the city after weeks of celebrating the defeat of the blight and repairing much of the damage that had been done to the city. Solona hadn't wanted to stay as long as they did, but Alistair seemed intent on helping those less fortunate or less capable with rebuilding their homes. How could she say no to that? He was so kind-hearted, always putting others before himself. He really would have made a good king, if only he had wanted the responsibility.
However, the selfish part of her was glad that he had not wanted to lay claim to Ferelden's throne. If Alistair had become king, their relationship would have been all but over. No one would have approved of his marrying a mage, and she would not have been content as nothing more than his lover, especially when it came to things such as producing an heir. The idea of him laying with Morrigan had been bad enough, and Solona did not think she could stand being put through her Alistair laying with yet another woman that was not her.
It wasn't long before Alistair rose, the scent of breakfast rousing him from his heavy slumber. He lumbered out of their tent sleepily in only his trousers, a habit of his that Solona very much enjoyed. He was certainly athletic, as Leliana had once rather indelicately put it, and was quite pleasing to the eye.
"Good morning, my dear," he yawned, stretching his arms over his head before taking a seat next to her by the campfire. "I'm glad someone else is doing the cooking for once."
"Yes, well, I prefer my sense of taste to remain in tact," she taunted with a playful smirk. "I would've cooked meals more often if we didn't travel with so many people."
"I almost miss it," he said softly, an expression of nostalgia crossed his features. "Except for Morrigan, of course. Could do without her next time."
Solona stiffened at the mention of the witch's name. She knew that Alistair had wanted nothing to do with the woman, but she still couldn't help feeling a small twinge of resentment toward that whole situation. After all, Alistair was the only man she had ever been with. It was only natural to want to be the only woman he had ever been with. But their lives were far more important than a meaningless, ritualistic dalliance that he had only agreed to for her sake. He tucked a chin-length strand of silvery blonde hair behind her ear, stroking her cheek softly in the process.
"I'm sorry. I said the bad name again, didn't I?" he muttered, half-teasing, half-ashamed. Guilt overwhelmed her as she realized how she must be making him feel. It wasn't as though he had wanted to be with Morrigan, and she was the one who asked.
"You're fine, Alistair," she murmured, giving him a warm smile. She pressed her mouth to his in a chaste, but loving kiss to reassure him that she wasn't upset.
They ate their breakfast in companionable silence, enjoying the peace to which they were so unaccustomed. It was nice being able to take their time pulling up camp, instead of rushing around all of Ferelden like they had been doing for the past year. The leisure time felt almost sacred. Finally, some time around midmorning, Solona broke the surrounding stillness.
"I've had a thought. I was wondering if you would mind traveling to Highever to honor Duncan on your own. I'd like a chance to visit Kinloch Hold to check on some old friends," she explained at his questioning look. She could see disapproval written all over his face.
"I hate the idea of being parted so soon after defeating the Blight," Alistair pouted, his bottom lip jutting out slightly. "Can't you just come with me to Highever, now? When we've finished there, we can go visit your mage friends."
"I'd like to see if there's anyway I can help rebuild the Circle now the Blight has ended. Once you're finished honoring Duncan's memory in Highever, you can meet me at the Tower. We won't be apart for long, I promise, my love," she assured him gently. She scooted closer to him, leaning against him and resting her head upon his still bare shoulder. "Just as you feel you must pay your respects to Duncan, this is something I must do."
"I guess I understand. Oh all right," he huffed, reluctantly. Solona felt her insides twist at the crestfallen expression upon Alistair's face, but she felt needed to visit the Tower as soon as possible to put her thoughts of Cullen to rest. She just needed to know that he had survived, that he was doing all right, so that her dreams could finally go back to normal.