Caged Together
Chapter 3
The next week passed fairly without incident.
With the last of the blood having finally been removed from the Tower's floors, the majority of the debris having been gathered up and taken away, and most of the broken pillars and doors and statues having either been replaced or fixed, the Tower no longer seemed so dismal.
In fact, many of the more frequently-used areas of the Tower were beginning to look quite hospitable once again.
And the mages and Templars were once again beginning to stick to their own kind with renewed astringency and the occasional argument over whatever new development had occurred could be heard emanating from Irving's office as both he and Greagoir tried their hardest to get the other to see their way of thinking and things were beginning to settle back down and almost, almost seem normal again.
Except the tower was still empty.
And not even an energetic dwarf and curious war-hound and dragon-slaying mage could fill the gap left by so many Templars and Apprentices alike.
And it was this thought that that was suddenly interrupted by the sound of a knock on the Tower door, followed by a creak and a "Hellooo?" that echoed down the halls that caused said mage to jump up from her pile of books and run down the corridor and past a surprised-looking Cullen, to stop, breathless, in front of the new arrivals.
"Solana!" The red-head in the doorway beamed, embracing the other girl, "Oh, it is so good to see you again! Oh, how have you been? And where is—oh!"
And Dog, following in his master's footsteps, came bounding down the hall, tongue hanging out of his mouth and his tail wagging, to greet the familiar faces.
"It's good to see you again—and you too, Dog." Wynne smiled and stepped forward, eyes shining warmly as she greeting the familiar faces. "And ah—the Tower. I don't believe I've realized how much I've missed this old place while I was away." She chuckled, "Ah, but absence makes the heart grow fonder—or so they say."
"Leliana, Wynne…" Amell smiled, looking at the two, "It's good to see you, too."
And by now the commotion had caused quite a few curious heads to poke out from whatever their task was and an audience had gathered behind them, watching the two mages, the dog, and the girl with the Orlesian accent with faint curiosity.
"I—er… Your journey went well, then, I take it?" The younger mage asked, straightening up as she remembered that she was in the Tower and was now being observed by a small audience.
"Thankfully, yes," Wynne smiled, "I suppose everyone is too busy dealing with their own problems to create more. And yours?"
"Mine? Oh, yes, yes. Well enough," she ushered them inside, nudging a barking Dog away from the door as she did so. "I stopped by Redcliffe on the way down—they're looking pretty well, all things considered.
"Wynne? Is that you?" Irving's voice sounded from the tower's hall, "Ah, I was wondering when I'd be able to see you again." He smiled, "I'm glad you came. I don't mean to harry you the moment you walk in the door, but I have a few matters I'd like to discuss with you—when you get the chance."
"Oh, Irving. Yes, yes, of course." Wynne broke away from the crowd, giving Amell one last smile as she did so. "Well, better sooner than later—what's on your mind, Irving?"
And the two of them walked off, engaged in an unheard discussion of sorts as Leliana turned to her friend, he eyes glittering. "Well?" She said encouragingly, "What are you waiting for? Now that there are no longer any demons or darkspawn running about, you are the hostess and this is your home, no? Should you not be offering me a tour?"
And Amell jumped and grinned and took the other girl's hand with an excited, "Oh, right!", and led her down the corridor, too happy at the moment to even notice the look of glaring disapproval that she got from a certain Templar who was standing near the hall's arch.
- o -
Leliana had all but jumped at her friend's offer to be roommates ("Oh, it will be just like old times, no?"), despite the fact that there were a good three other rooms empty and waiting. And Wynne, of course, had reclaimed her old bed in the rooms of the Senior Enchanters. And, with things once again beginning to settle down, Amell found herself feeling a good bit more at peace than she had felt in the past several weeks.
"So, how is Schmooples?"
"Quite well, the little darling! I think he was sad that his mommy had to go and leave him behind, but I left him in the care of a good friend; I expect he will be a good bit fatter when I return home."
"You'd better hope they don't decide he looks fat enough to eat,"
Leliana laughed, "Oh, she wouldn't dream of it. She knows how much I love my little Schmooples."
The two girls were sitting down on the first floor, eating a couple of apples that they had grabbed from the kitchen, reflecting on everything from spider-squashing to cheese wheels and just enjoying each other's company.
"The Tower is looking so much better, no?"
"Mm, yes. It is."
And after a pause, "So tell me, Solana, what is it that you plan to do once the Tower is rebuilt?"
"Hmm?" She looked at her bard-friend, shifting her seating on the stone ledge, "I… I don't really know—I haven't thought that far ahead; I mean, the Tower's still got a long way to go before it can be called fixed."
Leliana laughed lightly, "This is true, yes… But the time will come when it is right again… So tell me, what do you plan to do when that time arrives? Will you continue to stay in the Tower, I wonder, or will you begin to miss the wide-open road that you used to wander so freely?"
And something inside of her tugged at her stomach and it must have shown in her eyes because Leliana said quickly, "But that is a long time off, like you said, yes? We should focus on the here and now and not worry about such things until they are much closer. And perhaps by then another option will have presented itself, hm? Come, come," and she sprang up and grabbed her friend's hand, "Let us get back to work; the Tower will not clean itself, you know!"
.X.x.X.
Cullen lingered just at the tip of the hall, obscured from view by the growing mix of Templars and mages that had poked their heads out to see who had come knocking on the Tower's doors.
It was hard to believe that the mage in the doorway was the same girl—no, the same woman—whom all of Ferelden was talking about; the same woman who had saved Redcliffe and Arl Eamon and found the fabled Urn of Sacred Ashes in the process; who had returned to the Tower, just when all hope seemed lost, to pull it from its impending doom; who had encountered countless darkspawn and somehow always come out on top and alive.; who had confronted and battled the legendary Arch Demon on top of Fort Drakon in the midst of raining fire and brimstone and death… and won.
Because right now she was acting like the same girl whom Cullen had watched from his post in front of the Tower Library; smiling and laughing and talking with her friends like she had not a care in the world.
Which meant that it shouldn't be possible.
It wasn't possible.
Because Solana Amell was a mage. Not a Grey Warden, not the Hero of Ferelden—she was a mage.
Just. A. Mage.
And right now she was standing in the Tower's foyer (Which, he reminded himself, She's never left— she can't have left—because she's a mage and she's not allowed to leave. And she's certainlynot allowed to leave to go fight darkspawn, of all things), just talking with a friend.
Except….
Oh.
Right. That friend.
That friend who's obviously notfrom the Tower (Which means that they had to have met outside of the Tower. Which means that she would have had to leave the Tower). That friend that he recognized.
Recognized because he'd seen "that friend" before. (And he had been tired and delirious and just barely hanging onto sanity when he had, but he had). Along with her and Wynne and a man in Templar armor whom Cullen had not recognized.
When she had returned to the Tower. Which meant she had to have left the Tower.
Left to go fight darkspawn.
Except, that wasn't possible.
…Right?
- o -
He found her dozing in the Library.
She had one arm tucked under her head and the other poised at an angle that made it look as if she had fallen asleep writing mid-word, the quill still in her hand.
"Alistair…?"
Wha—? Cullen, frowned. And it occurred to him that he should probably just Leave. The mage. Alone, but his curiosity getting the better of him, and he halted and returned to her side to look down at her sleeping form.
Her face was calm, though she was frowning slightly, her eyes flickering beneath their lids, signaling her dreaming. And Cullen had the sudden image of the girl in the Harrowing Chamber who he had been assigned to as executioner, should things have taken a turn for the worse. He felt his chest tighten.
And for some wretched, unholy reason, as the Templar looked down at her sleeping form, he found himself unable to resist the sudden urge that had popped up inside him to brush the tiny bit of hair that had slipped its way past her ear and into her face.
And so he did.
And, in her sleep, the clink of his armor and the touch of his metal-gloved finger and the feeling of cold steel on her face served as a kind of reassuring sedative. And her shoulders slumped and her posture relaxed and she settled back into her arms, the frown gone from her features, her slumber resumed in full.
A/N: Hurray! I actually got another chapter out! Harhar. So um, yeah. Anyways. See that little review option down there? You should totally click it. Yes, you should.