I have the Cullen Mod in game. It has my mind reeling but then … a lot of things have that affect on me.

So here I sit with a bit of 'what if' and thought I'd poke Ser Cullen and ask him what he thought of this …

Harrowing? Killing blow? Me?

I must be dreaming. This has to be a nightmare. He wouldn't ask this of me? He-

"Ser Cullen," Greagoir's grating voice cuts across my thoughts, like a slap across my cheek.

"Ser," I snap back to attention. "What time am I expected to report?"

Greagoir eyes me. Why is he looking at me like that? Why did he appoint me to oversee this particular Harrowing? Does he know? He knows. How? I haven't done anything wrong. I have kept my vows. So why do I suddenly feel the heat of a school girl blush creeping all the way to my ears? Maker, I hate when he stares like that. "The Harrowing begins at nine. I expect you to be in the Harrowing room by eight. We will discuss the ritual and your responsibilities in more detail at that time."

I think I'm going to be ill. Yes, ill… that is my breakfast trying to make an appearance. I wonder how upset Greagoir would be with me if I managed to splash his boots with bile and porridge. Then again, if I do get ill perhaps I will be excused from tomorrow's Harrowing. "Yes, Knight-Commander."

If I get ill right now he may think I don't have what it takes to be a templar. Do I have what it takes? Well I think I do but this is new territory. It is my calling. Or at least I made a vow and I am committed. Hmph, committed indeed.

Finally he stopped looking at me. Is he? Yes, back to his work. That is my cue that I've been excused. A quick salute that I'm sure he won't notice unless I do it sloppily or not at all. Sloppily… sloppily… is that even a word? Sloppy, slappy, slippy… slippery…

Where was I heading? Right, I'm on my way back to that lonely hallway. The very hallway where I get to stand day in and day out staring at the stone wall directly in front of me. Now there's fun just waiting to happen.

Is this really what I thought my life would be like when I joined the Order? Watch mages live their sheltered imprisoned lives in this drafty gloomy tower as my own life passes me by?

The sound of my boots echoes though the hall. Such a familiar thud with each step, it's rather comforting. I can't help but sigh heavily. Serve Andraste, be a Templar. No one really writes the truth about this bit on those blasted pamphlets. Oh no, the life they painted was much more-

Voices. Feminine voices. I can hear them approach, softly spoken voices in hushed secretive tones. Small girly giggles and… it's her. I know that voice and she's walking towards me. Or is she walking away? Is she-

My heart is racing. I'm having a heart attack! No, its nerves, just nerves and she sees me. I should have worn my helmet. If I wore my helmet I'd look like any oher templar in the tower. I'm not sure where I last put my helment and-

"Ser Cullen," she smiles. Oh what I'd give to kiss those full red lips. She moves so gracefully tucking her soft brown tresses behind her ear. There's a glint of some mischief playing in her eyes. Such beautiful clear blue eyes.

"Ser Cullen," she purrs. That elf does have a confidence doesn't she? They are such polar oppisites. It is no wonder they are friends.

Does she know? She seems so calm for someone who is being tested tomorrow. Do I tell her? No, it isnt my place but I have to say something. Or do I? Oh Maker's breath, say something! "Apprentice A-Amell, Apprentice S-Surana," he nods stifly and wills his feet to keep moving. Oh smooth, no I'm sure she didn't hear that stutter.

Such a stupid wall. Not really, I mean it is just a wall and it can't help what it is. It doesn't deserve my hatred. It is just a wall with fifty stones top to bottom and countless, at least by me, around full circle.

I wonder what she is doing right now. Preparing for the test, studying, eating, sleeping… sitting. Hmmm, another deep sigh. I seem to be doing that quite a bit lately. Really I have only myself to blame for this predicament I'm in. I joined the Chantry. I took my vows to be a templar so the blame begins and ends with me.

Still I think I'd like to blame those pamphlets. I was rather young and impressiona-

"Ser Cullen?"

Maker, where did she come from? "Apprentice Am-Amell," I'm staring. That must be a bit creepy but those lips are just so soft looking. I would very much like to find out if they are nearly as soft as they look. I bet they taste sweet like strawberries.

"You told me once," she is looking down the hallway. Well she shouldn't be up here really. I'm sure its just her nerves of being caught on the second floor but really if someone were to yell at her, I would imagine I would be the one to reprimand her for breaking this one small rule and it is so worth her breaking it. She came to see me after all. "- so I had hoped that offer still stands."

Maker, what offer? I missed half of what she said! Does it matter? If I offered then naturally I must keep my word. Whatever that happens to be. "Of course." Nice. Concise. Best of all, no stutter.

She looks relieved yet still a bit on edge. Must be the second floor thing still. She worries that bottom lip so deliciously. I wonder if she knows how that affects me. Probably not. She can't possibly know what she does to me. If she did, she wouldn't have stepped closer to me. Maker she's so close I could just-

"I know it's wrong. I can't help it. You're so strong, calm and kind." Her hand is on my chest… plate. Well I am wearing armor and she said I'm calm? Calm? My heart is hammering in my chest to the point I can just imagine it will burst soon and quite violently I'm sure.

"Apprentice-"

"Can't you just call me Solona?" She's batting those big blue eyes at me. How does any man say no when she looks so sweet and innocent and…

"No," I clear my throat. I'm not sure if that was a stall tactic but I really don't want her to hear how choked up I feel right now. "You are a mage, I'm a templar. It would be inadvisable and inappropriate of me." Not to mention that tomorrow morning I may very well have to kill you. Oh lovely thought there, idiot.

When did my hand move? They were both at my sides a moment ago and now my right hand is over hers and this, this is highly inappropriate of me. First I hold her hand, then what? A kiss? And really why stop if I have gone that far? "You're right, of course." She leans closer. Is it possible for her to be closer? She certainly appears closer. "I'm frightened, Cullen."

I'm lost, lost in those blue eyes. "What could you possibly be frightened of?"

"My Harrowing is tomorrow." She knows. "You already know." That wasn't a question yet I feel my head nodding to confirm. A soft laugh, throaty and rather fetching, "of course you do."

I wish I wasn't wearing gloves. Plate can't possibly be comfortable for her to be laying her cheek on. "You'll do fine. You're a brilliant mage. You're ready." Maker please let her be ready. I do not want to have to kill this delicate woman.

"Thank you," she's staring at me with those beautiful blue orbs again. "I wasn't sure if I could sleep tonight."

I feel faint. Her hand is so soft on my cheek. Breathe, for the love of the Maker, breathe man! "You should go." I really don't want you to but if you stand here much longer we will both be in trouble. A lot of trouble. I may forget those vows. I am forgetting those vows. What exactly did I vow to do or not to do and why did I think that was such a great idea any how?

It took every bit of training I have to keep from rushing forward to her. She looks so lost and alone, frightened and unsure. If only I could wrap her in my arms and… but that's foolishness talking and these thoughts are best left unspoken, unthought, left alone, very alone on an island. We are on an island. The tower is on an island in the middle of the lake, isolated and… alone.

"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." Greagoir recites the chant to her. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin." I'm sure she's heard that a dozen or more times over the years. I can't imagine she really needs to hear that bit again.

"Your magic is a gift, but it's also a curse, for demons of the dream realm - the Fade - are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world." Did she? She did. She looked my way. The small glance was quick but her biting at her bottom lip when our eyes met is unmistakable. Or am I reading too much into that… I am arent I… am I?

"You will face…" Irving's voice isn't much better than Greagoir's but at least he's probably being more supportive and from the look on Greagoir's face I'm sure I'm right. Amell looks so small and fragile amidst all of these templars… and Irving.

Solona, she wants me to call her Solona. I can't do that, of course. Still she is… looking at me again. She's probably wondering what I'm doing here. Please for the love of Andraste, don't ask. A small nod, yes that's not too noticeable by anyone else. The soft smile she gives me must mean she caught my meaning. It's all I can do to show her support and reassurance.

She moves so gracefully. I can feel my stomach churn the closer I get to the pedestal. The blue glow of lyrium as she touches it and-

"Maker's breath!" I caught her, barely but I hadn't expected her to fall so quickly and so thoroughly. Thoroughly, really? She is asleep, how else is she to fall? Still she… oh I suppose I should lay her down and um, right then. Setting her gently on the ground, do not brush her hair away from her eyes. Step away… step!

Okay this is about as far as I have to go. Gauging where Greagoir is and Irving and the others, well they are farther back and it is my job to slay-

Again with the heavy sighs? Hmmm, still she looks so peaceful. Come on Amell, don't fail… don't fail… don't fail.

Such a stupid wall. No really, I mean it this time. Why am I here? What good am I doing? I can stand around watching mages and get my stomach in knots over one of them and who am I fooling really? Not me, not Amell. I'm sure others have noticed. I'm not the most-

"Cullen," Makers breath she did it again. She moves pretty quickly for someone who just passed her Harrowing.

Is… is that a smile. I'm smiling, that's not professional. Clear my throat, yes that usually helps. "I-I'm glad you s-s-survived your Harrowing." I can't look at her. I have to tell her. She probably already knows why I was there, but still she deserves the truth no matter-

"Why are you stuttering?" Maker her hand is on my chest plate again.

Everything went dark! Oh my eyes are closed. Well I don't recall closing them but I suppose it is either close my eyes are look into hers which I can't do without telling her the truth. "Amell… Enchanter Amell…"

Her finger tips, Maker's breath, her finger tips on my lips. That must stop. Carefully reach up and remove them. That's it. Don't break her fingers, just relax and-

"Would you really have killed me?" Is that hurt in her eyes? Oh Maker, she's hurt by the thought of me wanting to kill her, but I don't want to. It's just…

"It is my duty. I'd have felt awful if I had to." Blast it, my voice hitched and by the softening of her gaze, I'd say it's a safe bet she heard it.

"Are you busy?" I do love how she bites that bottom lip. What would it feel like to pull that bottom lip from between her teeth with-

"Yes! I uh… that's to say, I need to…"

"I really need to speak to you privately… it's urgent." Those blue eyes, how do I resist?

"Oh, well… um…" Where is she… oh. I should probably. Yes those are my feet following and a quick look around. No one is around.

The room is dim and there she is, standing by the candle light, the soft glow on her golden skin. No thinking, thoughts not allowed, kiss her. Now. Now or…

Is that a moan, yes, Maker yes. Her lips are softer than I thought. Her kiss is warm and sensual. Her soft hands cup my face, so heady this whole kiss and closeness. I can't breathe. I don't want to stop but what if…

It has to end. That familiar squirm in my stomach that preceeds the inevitable erection just exploded in my belly. End the kiss before she notes the odd tent and then of course the big question of do we wear pants under our skirts and that would be a resounding no, want to see?

Distance is good. Licking my lips, oh mercy, licking her lips. I love you, Solona. Pressing my cheek to hers, pressing the small gift in her palm. "Solona…"

Mmmm… I rather like the small whimpers she makes. Yes unprofessional, unwise, and will probably get me thrown to Aeonar. She's worth it.