._.~`~._.*~The Past~*._.~`~._.

She entered the library at the same time everyday, and his heart skipped a beat the way it always did when she sat in front of him. He doubted she even knew he existed, or that it was even him hidden behind the plate helm he wore. Standard regulation for guard duty in the main rooms and halls; normally unbearably hot but he was always thankful for the mandate. He could watch her without consequence, his face would flush and he need not fear embarrassment. Her laughter always made him smile, and no one would know he grinned under his uniform.

Weeks were spent like this since he had first run into her in the apprentice quarters. His own private trysts in his head kept away the monotony of his duties. Every day she sat in the same seat, every morning a smile for him though he knew it was just a polite nod to her guards. She did so with every templar he noticed, but he imagined a more gentler expression when she greeted him.

On this day he watched as she began another one of her drawings. It was painfully obvious her studies were not that of words with the way she moved her ink across the parchment. Long strokes, then concentrated small streaks, always followed by a sigh when she leaned back to study her work. How was it he was the only one to notice such things?

He hated when the time came for her to leave. She would always say goodbye to him when she walked through the arched exit and he would nod in reply. He feared she would recognize his voice should he say a word, so he always remained silent when she retired for the evening. The next two hours of his shift he'd daydream about her, about a life outside the tower for the both of them, until guilt crept up inside him.

He was not supposed to have these thoughts, wishes, or dreams about someone such as her. He should be watching for weakness or corruption, not the way the candlelight brightened her colorless hair. He had sworn to protect the world from the dangers of the magic she held inside herself; how could he do this when all he could think of was the silver specks in her smoky eyes? Every day lost in her uniqueness, every night hating himself for it; the internal struggle of a lost templar.

Come mealtime Cullen had managed to push all thoughts of the mage out of his mind. Out of sight seemed to help him best, and he considered speaking to Greagoir about a change in shift. The knight-commander would no doubt ask why, of which Cullen had no good lie prepared, so the request would wait until he could think of something creative.

Other templars joined him at the table in the large hall as they began supper. His own thoughts were distracted by the mindless prattle that surrounded him. A few of the older templars were discussing upcoming Harrowings while the younger ones closer to Cullen were chattering about the mages. He paid little attention to either of the discussions until he heard mention of 'the one with the white hair.'

"I hardly pay her any mind," Berwic said. "Her nose is always buried in that book of hers. Besides, she ain't much to look at."

"Not speaking of her face man," Reynard replied. "I prefer to focus on what I would do with that body of hers. Bet she's nice and ripe for the picking!"

The others laughed and nodded, agreeing with the dark haired templar. Cullen clenched his fists under the table, careful to control his temper in a room full of different ranking officers. It would do him no good to fight amongst his peers, especially in defending the honor of a mage. He stood without a word and retreated from the hall before any damage to his career could be done.

As he exited the room however, Knight-Lieutenant Dorner met him in the hall. "Ah, Cullen. Just the man I was looking for."

"What do you need of me?" Cullen responded with curiosity.

"Please," he gestured towards the end of the hallway. "Come with me."

Cullen followed his superior to the Knight-Commander's office. When he entered the room and saw that First Enchanter Irving was also there, his palms began to sweat from nerves. What did the two of them want with him? Had they become aware somehow of his thoughts when it came to the white-haired mage? "That'll be all Dorner," Greagoir said to his lieutenant, who closed the door upon his exit.

"You wished to see me?" Cullen asked of Greagoir while offering a polite nod to Irving.

"Yes," Greagoir said as he sat behind his desk gathering a few parchments. "A matter has been brought to my attention concerning one of the young apprentices, a Solona Amell."

Cullen's face remained expressionless. "My apologies Sir, I am not yet familiar with everyone's name."

Irving spoke for Greagoir. "She would stand out among the rest," he told Cullen. "Her hair is of an unnatural color."

That was her name then; Cullen hadn't known it before now. The tension within him continued to rise as the focus of his newly formed infatuation was the reason for this meeting. "Ah yes," Cullen acknowledged. "I am familiar with the..uhm..young lady you speak of."

Greagoir stood and approached Cullen with the papers he had gathered. "Upon a recent surprise inspection, we discovered these among her possessions."

Cullen took the pages Greagoir offered him. The first three were the pictures of Solona's mother he had seen when he first met her. He continued through the stack; her quarters, a few of the other mages, some landscapes that he assumed she drew from memory. The last one in the pile nearly caused him to break his calm demeanor when he stared down at a picture of himself. The soft smile that almost grazed his lips that day, but the stern look in his eye when he had scolded her. The likeness was astounding, as much as the revelation that she had taken the time to create it.

"As you can see this is a delicate situation," Greagoir continued. "We must discourage this sort of behavior before it gets out of hand. The First Enchanter and I agree it would be in the mage's best interest that you be the one to enforce her punishment."

Now Cullen couldn't help but shift uncomfortably. "What sort of punishment?" he asked.

"She awaits you in Irving's office," Greagoir explained. "You will escort her to the basement where she will spend an undetermined amount of time in solitary."

Cullen wanted to question his commander as to why such a severe sentence for such a small crime. Yes the rules were clear but he hardly saw the harm in allowing a mage to draw a few pictures. He didn't dare ask the commander about why he had come to his decision however; it wasn't his place, and it would only bring suspicion upon him.

"We mustn't encourage this type of behavior," Greagoir spoke, sensing Cullen's apprehension. "It is clear from the illustration that she holds a fascination for you. Common under these circumstances, and she won't be the last I assure you." He returned to his seat behind his desk. "Best to discourage her before things get out of hand."

Irving nodded in agreement. "She has the potential to go far here," he added. "If she focuses on her studies and does not become distracted."

"I will see it is done," Cullen advised them both before exiting.

Across from Greagoir's office was Irving's, and Cullen hesitated outside the door. He looked down at the picture of himself still in his hand, not realizing he had taken it with him. Again he found it was astounding; the fact that she had done it from memory even more so. And now he was to drag her to the dungeons because of it.

She looked up at him as soon as he entered the office of the First Enchanter. Cullen refused to meet her gaze as he nodded towards her guard. "I will take it from here," he said and the guard retreated from the room.

Solona looked away the moment he dared to cast his eyes in her direction. Her cheeks were flushed, odd how pink they became across her pale skin. Cullen ignored the longing he suddenly felt to comfort her, especially when a whispered apology fell from her lips. "You were right," she told him. "I should've hid them well."

He remained by the door, fearful of his own actions should he get any closer to her. "Let's go," he called to her as emotionless as possible.

Solona stood and walked towards him, then followed him as he walked down the long corridor. Down the stairs he continued, through the library and apprentice quarters until they reached the entrance to the basement. "Where are you taking me?" she finally asked, eyes wide with fear.

Cullen didn't answer her as he opened the large door and escorted her inside the dungeons. He led her to the first cell and stopped, turning to face her for the first time. "It shouldn't be for long," he now tried to calm her. "Seeing as it is your first offense, they will be fair."

Solona shook her head, her eyes pleading for him to help her. "I can't stay in there," she tried. "Please, it's too small, too dark!"

He felt her begin to panic so he gently placed his hands on her shoulders. "It's alright," he said to her. "Come, this one is slightly bigger and I will light more torches for you before I go." She walked with him along the row of cells to the corner one which was indeed nearly double the size of the others. Along the way he kept his promise of lighting the wall sconces. Cullen held the cell door open for her as she entered, and Solona turned around inside attempting to adjust to the new surroundings.

He locked her within and began to walk away before she called out to him. "I still don't know your name," she said in the distance.

Cullen stopped, though he didn't turn around. He shouldn't answer her question; encouraging the very thing his superior was trying to discourage. It would be easier if she didn't know, if they never saw each other again, if they weren't trapped together in this tower for the rest of their lives. But for some reason he wanted her to know, have something to call him should she ever think of him again long enough for another portrait. "Cullen," he responded, and then continued walking.

"Thank you Cullen," Solona added before sitting down in her cage.

As much as he regretted his decision to tell her, Cullen longed to hear her say his name again.

._.~`~._.*~The Present~*._.~`~._.

The first thing Solona noticed while drifting into consciousness was the scent that surrounded her. His scent, one she was once very aware of, comforted her as she lay in the large bed. She was warm, relaxed, well rested, and most importantly she felt safe. It had been a long time since she felt this way, able to come out of a deep sleep without some weapon in hand or some person or animal rifling through her things. How quickly circumstances can change she thought as she rolled over.

The sunlight was bright as it flowed through the room from the large window. She focused for a moment on the dust particles that danced in the beams of light across the bed. There was peace here, such serenity that she longed to be lost in it forever.

A note left on the small table next to the bed let her know that Cullen wasn't home. Short, simple, but just enough to make her smile:

Stay.
~C

How long had she imagined their reunion? How different it was in her mind from what she was forced to do? Months on the run, scrambling from town to ally just to find any word of where he had been transferred to and if she could even count on him to help her. One step ahead of the Seekers, one step behind him. Why didn't she come to him when she originally planned? Then maybe they had a chance, maybe he would want to be with her. Now...

Solona sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, attempting to rid her mind as well of these useless thoughts. The fact was she was here now. The sad truth was she was about to change his life forever, one way or the other. It pained her to be the one to bring this to him. She had considered at one point never telling him, letting him find out with the rest of Thedas to believe or not to believe. It would've been the easier way to go, but then she wouldn't be here. And she wanted to be here, more than anything.

Movement in the hall startled her and she vaulted out of bed and hid in the kitchen. The sound of the lock clicking open caused her to hold her breath. The door opening and closing had her heart pounding as adrenaline laced with trepidation surged through her body. She listened intently as the sound of footsteps moved closer upon her, and she closed her eyes when they reached the entranceway she stood behind.

"Solona," his voice called to her, and her shoulders slumped with relief. The breath she held was released as she scouted around the kitchen door to see him, his warm eyes looking back at her with a hint of amusement.

"Don't even," Solona warned as she sensed the grin threatening to form on his lips. She moved from her not-so-secret hiding spot behind the door and returned to the main room, sitting back down on the bed.

Cullen followed, taking the chair from his desk and moving it closer to her. The playfulness was gone in his expression as he wasted no time in addressing the matter at hand. "Care to tell me now why you've come?"

She sighed, not really certain where to begin her story. It was a conversation she had rehearsed in her head dozens of times, but now that she was here she was finding it difficult to even speak. She took a moment to study his face, really look at him for the first time in years. He looked older, wiser, far from the shy young man she knew in Kinloch Hold. Not as tormented as he had been when she found him imprisoned by Uldred, and not as angry with her as he had been last they saw each other in Denerim. They had both been through a lot, seen and lived through more than anyone their ages should be forced to endure. And now they were together again, and she feared it was for the last time.

"Dagna is dead," Solona finally began when she felt his patience was nearing its end.

Cullen's surprise was clear in his expression as he leaned forward. "Last I heard she was committed to remaining in the tower," he said. "How?"

"She was murdered," Solona replied, watching him for a reaction. "By Greagoir's successor."

Cullen didn't know what to make of the news. "There must have been reason for her execution," he stated.

"Her research," Solona continued. "She had made several discoveries about lyrium that didn't sit well with the Divine. Dagna knew her life was in danger; she had sent word for me to help her escape the tower, but by the time I arrived it was too late. Her body was left for me as a warning."

"Why?" Cullen asked. "What do you mean left as a warning?"

"I was to meet her behind The Spoiled Princess. They left her body there for me to find, a sunburst branded into her forehead. No reason for that other than to scare me, knowing that dwarves can not be made tranquil." Solona took a moment before continuing, letting the image settle in his mind. "I have Dagna's research; she sent it ahead of time, and I can easily see why she was killed because of it. What she found will only add to the war between the mages and the templars, and lead the war right to the front steps of the Divine in Orlais."

Cullen was tired of Solona tip-toeing around the point. "Why was she killed Solona? Why are the Seekers after you?"

The point of no return, Solona thought. Once he knew, he'd be forced to make a decision. Turn her in, assist her, or let her remain on the run. "The last thing Dagna was researching was the difference between lyrium potions mages use to replenish mana and the lyrium templars require to develop their talents. She was able to break down both into their most basic form, and found that the two are exact in every way save one.

"The lyrium provided to templars by the Chantry have two additional ingredients: brimstone mushroom and Orlesian skullcap. These two herbs are known to be not only highly addictive, but increase agitation and paranoia. Dagna believed that neither were required for a templar to perform his duties."

Cullen processed what Solona had said. "The research of one dwarf is hardly worth execution," he replied.

"Unless it were true," Solona stated. "Cullen, she wasn't wrong. I worked with an ex-templar and we tested her theory. He was able to perform as any other templar by using regular lyrium potions without the two herbs. The only reason the Chantry altered the substance is to keep the templars in line by making it addictive. Not only that, but it alters the way you see mages, sometimes seeing demons and blood magic where there isn't any because the herbs make you paranoid. How many templars do you know that have lost their minds, or suffered severe withdrawal? It can all be avoided but the Chantry doesn't want anyone to know."

"You realize this borders on blasphemy," Cullen told her as he stood and began pacing the room. "A direct insult and accusation towards the Chantry and the Divine."

"But do you realize how many mages have lost their lives, or were forced to become tranquil, because of something their templar accuser is ingesting on a daily basis? How many have been tortured, beaten, or raped because of aggression that didn't exist in a man before he became a templar? Your own previous knight-commander, was she not beginning to go mad even before coming in contact with that sword of hers?" Solona stood and walked towards him, daring to place her hand on his arm. "All of it perhaps avoidable, if you weren't all taking this drug the Chantry has forced upon you without your knowledge."

He turned to look at her, the conflict clear in his eyes. He didn't know what to say, how to react, what to even believe. Could it be possible?

"Perhaps it is blasphemy," Solona continued. "But it is also truth. It is my duty as a mage, as the Hero of Ferelden, to see to it that this information be brought to light. Just as it is your duty to turn me in," Solona reminded him in a whisper. She released her hold on him and walked towards the window, her back facing him. "The question now is, will you still help me? Or turn me over to the Seekers when they arrive?"