It had been two weeks.

One would not presume to think that two weeks was much time to have passed, but it had felt like an eternity to Brigitte Amell. There were books, and lectures, and studies for her to indulge in to pass the time, and she devoured every word she could wrap her mind around, but the days were long. The passage of time crept, as if taunting her. It gnawed at her constantly, until she found herself unable to eat, barely able to sleep.

Yet, here it was, the two weeks having past, and butterflies danced in her stomach as she paced in the small alcove. It was back on the third floor, away from most of the traffic, and off limits to apprentices. That didn't matter any longer, she had passed her Harrowing; that moment had been the catalyst for a great many changes for Brigitte.

Amongst those changes, the most prevalent was the new level of freedom Brigitte enjoyed. Sure, she was unable to leave the safety of the Kinloch Hold, the tower she had spent most of her life in, but she was no longer restricted to the lowest level. She was able to request certain instruments and practice experiments that would had previously been denied. Proving herself capable in the Fade, it allowed her to be under less scrutiny from the Templars that guarded them. She never felt that they followed her every movement as she walked through the tower any longer.

Or, she had enjoyed that luxury until she broke a major rule of the tower. How was she to know that her friend, her dear friend Jowan, was really a blood mage, a maleficar? She knew he was planning on trying to break free from the tower, worried that they were going to turn him into one of the Tranquils, but he was the first person who befriended her when she was the little seven year old girl away from her home. He gave her the little stuffed bear that she held to her those first few nights, crying herself to sleep. He was only a year older than her, but he was the closest thing to family she had now.

How could she refuse him? She knew it was wrong to break into the repository, to help him find his phylactery, but he deserved a chance to have a life. She couldn't deny him that.

She bit her lip as she paced the alcove, remembering the unbridled fury in Knight-Commander Greagoir's eyes after Jowan had fled. She spent the better part of a month in solitary confinement, worrying that at any day the Templars were going to arrive, to kill her or to make her Tranquil. But when they finally showed, they simply released her back to First Enchanter's Irving's care.

It was at that point that she slipped the note to him. It begged him to show in two weeks, at this location, at about this time. She had no way of knowing what he had heard, of what he learned. The Templars were bound to talk. Would he hate her for what she did? Would it change what had been blossoming between them? Would he even show?

She smoothed the rough spun silk of her robes, feeling her heart pound in her chest. Every day she saw him in passing, and she wanted to go to him, to speak to him, but she worried that it would bring him trouble. So, she kept to herself, to her studies, biding her time, and praying to Andraste that he would come and at least hear her out.

Finally, the sound of armored feet approaching filled her ears, and her breath caught in her throat. She stopped her pacing, watching as the Templar rounded the corner. For a moment, she feared it was another of the Knights, and that they would drag her back to the Knight-Commander, but the soft candlelight soon showed the blonde hair and warm amber eyes that belonged to him, Cullen.

"Brigitte?" His brow furrowed as his eyes met hers, and it took everything in her power to not rush straight to him.

She managed a soft smile, ignoring the one unruly red curl that fell past her eyes. "Cullen, thank you for coming to speak with me."

He stood just outside arm's length from her, his arms rigid at his side. "Yes, well, I..." He cleared his throat, looking over his shoulder a moment. "What was it you needed?"

"Cullen..." He flinched a bit at the sound of his name, and she felt her heart sink. What had the other Templars said about her. "I wanted to explain. On what happened."

His eyes flashed before he averted his gaze with a shake of his head. "That... isn't necessary. I..."

She placed a hand on his arm. He didn't pull away at least, and his gaze fell to her hand - it looking so small and frail against the hard cold armor he wore. "It is necessary. I don't know what you've heard, but I felt I owed it to you."

The words weren't coming out right. She knew that, but she found herself struggling to find the rationale. Cullen was silent, still. She hated the feel of his armor beneath her hands. It would be so much easier if she could feel the warmth of his flesh, but if she reached to touch his face, to brush her hands along the stubble on his chin, would he pull away?

He sighed with another shake of his head. There was a roughness to his voice when his eyes met hers. A mixture of emotions swam before her. "What were you thinking?"

"I had to do it, Cullen. I couldn't say no." The words were like lead, heavy between them. She wouldn't, couldn't lie to him about what transpired.

Concern lit his eyes, his brow furrowing. Finally he broke his statuesque posture, one gauntleted hand brushed her cheek. "Did he force you? Use his blood magic to make you do those things?"

Yes, say yes. It was a lie though. If she uttered those words, she'd know they weren't true. If the Templars managed to find Jowan, he would be able to affirm that he used no coercion. It would be his word against hers, and even though he was maleficarum, could she lie to protect herself, for her own heart's sake? She placed a hand on top of his on her cheek. "I wish I could say he did, but no. I did them of my own will. He didn't force me."

"How could you?" He pulled his hand away, the cool metal sliding underneath her palm. The concern in his eyes melted beneath the anger and pain that swirled there now. "That phylactery was the only way we would be able to trace his footsteps."

"I know, but he begged me. It was to save his life. To give him a chance to live that he wanted, not the kind that was dictated to him." Her cheeks flamed as she spoke, doing her best to keep her voice down. She would never agree with the measures her friend took to flee, but he had the right to want to live.

"He's a blood mage. Do you have any idea how many people he could hurt out there?" He took a step back, his own voice heated yet soft. "Farmers? Villagers? Children? What of those people? Do they not deserve a chance to live how they wanted?"

Brigitte didn't want to think about that. She couldn't. She knew that if he hurt anyone, the blood of those people would stain her hands. They would haunt her dreams, and Andraste guide her, she'd still help him in hindsight. She grabbed hold of both his hands, ignoring the heavy steel that was between them. "He did it for love, Cullen. He wanted to spend his life with someone and the circle would never let him. Can you really blame him for that?"

Her Templar shook his head, but he didn't advert his eyes again. "That's what he said. That doesn't make it true."

"I met her. The girl. It was true, real." Brigitte knew it had to be true, up until the point that fear crept into Lily's eyes as Jowan used blood magic in front of her. "If I denied him the chance to have something, how could I ever hope to let myself have the same?"

"Brigi..." The words died as she pressed her mouth to his, her body against his. The surprise of her action lasted only a second before he backed her against a wall, deepening the kiss. They had stolen a few moments, however rare, when she was an apprentice, but it felt almost a lifetime ago. No matter how wrong everyone told them this was, it felt right whenever she was with him. No more fear of having lost him, as the world was swept away by a tide of mint and the hint of lemon.

She meant what she said. How could she deny Jowan the chance to be with Lily, when she would do anything to have a fraction of a life with Cullen? She hated how they stole away in the shadows, but it was the only way. She didn't want to lose those, and she wasn't brave enough to suggest running away.

He broke away first, his breath ragged. She looked up to him, his eyes dark as they gazed down into hers. "Maker's breath, they'll be looking for me soon." He pressed another kiss to her mouth, chaste and quick, before taking a half step away. His face remained somber, but there was a hopeful note in his voice. "We'll talk more another time?"

Brigitte managed a nod before Cullen slipped back around the corner. As soon as he was gone, she let the smile that she had been burying spread across her face. He didn't hate her, and perhaps, just perhaps, there was still hope for them. Despite everything, delight filled her to the core as she moved to head back to the library on the first level.

She made it about a quarter of the way down the hall when she was stopped, by someone she wasn't expecting. His appearance, his eyes, everything about him was cold, impersonal, but he smiled. "Ah, Miss Amell, I was hoping to be able to speak with you."

She returned the smile, letting herself think of Cullen. "Oh? What about, Senior Enchanter Uldred?"

He gestured to one of the larger gathering rooms off the hall. "Something that I hope you'll find rather important. If you would be so kind as to listen?"

"Oh, uh, of course."

Notes:

Of possible interest to those who have read, Brigitte Amell followed the same path as the mages in the mage origin; however, Duncan was not present at the Tower. The Warden, and later Hero of Ferelden, was recruited in Highever; however, Brigitte still passed her Harrowing, and participated in helping her friend Jowan. The rest are liberties that I am taking with the narrative. I hope you enjoyed.