Late-Night Library
Enaara entertained fantasies of a forbidden romance with her templar protector every day and every night for weeks after that occurrence. Though they had not spoken since then and only seen each other a few times, she was completely filled with giddy emotions every time she thought of the kiss on the cheek, of his cool rescue when Ser Pollel was threatening her, and of his torn expression when he looked at her.
She had other feelings, too, when she considered her fantasies; the ones where he kissed her hard and passionately, where she rescued him from a throng of evil foes—sometimes apostate blood mages, sometimes darkspawn, sometimes thieves—or when he saved her from similar enemies, usually the mage-bloodthirsty templars. Those fantasies ended in a loving and intimate embrace. There were other thoughts that occupied her mind—thoughts scandalous and alluring. Her imagination filled her to the brim with feelings until she felt as though they'd lived an entire lifetime of forbidden love already.
Then the gossip that she and Jowan were a couple cycled back again and other rumors of other mages secretly in love and the tales of how they met in secret right under the Chantry's nose were a topic of almost every conversation. The rumors were eventually followed with a rant from Jowan on the oppression of mages in matters of the heart, and it suddenly dawned on her that she, like the others, could never understand what love really was, especially not with a templar.
Still, seeing him lifted her spirits and caused her heart to thump. As the months rolled on, Enaara's attraction for Cullen did not wane and the effect he had on her did not fade. Maybe I should break a rule, she sometimes thought, hoping it would allow them a chance to talk; she always talked herself out of it, knowing full well that she would most likely be caught by another templar and punished. So nothing changed and time went on.
The library was unusually quiet that day. The younglings were already in bed. The older apprentices, who were allowed to stay up later, were mostly relaxing in sitting rooms, enjoying the free time. The mages had been collected by the enchanters to undergo a training exercise beyond the Tower and the senior enchanters were in the Fade. That made the templar population comfortingly thin—split between supervising the senior enchanters and those on the field trip.
She pulled down a few more books and brought them to her table where the others were stacked. A bit of light reading, Jowan had joked when he saw. In truth, it was research; she wanted to learn as much as she could. She had a feeling she would be called for her Harrowing soon. Although it wasn't officially announced, she'd noticed the eyes of the enchanters and senior enchanters on her; even First Enchanter Irving had been watching her. She wanted to be prepared.
After hours of studying and many candles burned, Enaara stretched out of a rigid position, realizing just how long she'd been sitting there. Rubbing her neck and stretching her legs, arms, and back, she slowly began cleaning up her study space. With an armful of books, she wobbled to the shelves and began replacing them where she'd gotten them. Though her arms were too full and she was having a hard time getting the first book back into its slot on the shelf.
"Come on…" she mumbled to herself, stretching awkwardly as she tried to balance the stacks of books in her arms and return one to the shelf too high to reach that way. She screeched as she stumbled over, momentarily mortified that she would drop all of those ancient texts.
Much to her surprise, the books as well as her own body fell onto a suit of armor. She looked up as Cullen scooped the pile of books into his arms and helped her back to her feet.
"Oh," she muttered, a bit taken aback. He temporarily cast his eyes at the ground and she was afraid he'd been insulted. "Thank you," she added, smiling when he looked her away. "I guess there's a lesson here about shortcuts."
His smile was small but it made her stomach twist in excited knots. "H-how is it you were able to hold these as long as you did? They're heavy."
"I may look like a weak little mage," she began, "but these small arms are deceivingly strong. It takes real muscle to hoist and heave these books all day."
"I can imagine. Perhaps the templars should consider making it part of our regiment as well." He watched her put the book on the shelf, take another from his arms, and then walk to another part of the shelf. He followed.
"A bit more reading never hurt anyone," she agreed, taking another book from the pile. "This one's no good. It's all about entropy magic." She selected another book. "Ah, but this might be more your speed: Templars and Lyrium Addiction: the Fifth School of Magic."
Cullen's face changed as he heard the title, color nearly draining entirely from his cheeks.
"Does it really—" but her giggled interrupted him. He shook his head. "You're joking," he mumbled, relieved. "Not fair."
He followed her as she returned the rest of the books to the shelves, finding the nook in the back of the library rather cozy and isolated. They stood awkwardly together, unsure of how to end the interaction comfortably when neither of them really wanted it to end.
Enaara wondered what they would be talking about were they two normal people. She wondered what they would be doing together in a dimly lit and empty library, hidden among the far shelves. Would he be confessing his love? Would she be telling him about the latest gossip? Would he steal a kiss? Or would something else happening—something more intimate?
"I hear strange rumors about you and another apprentice," he said, and she frowned, wondering if he was talking about the stupid gossip about her and Jowan.
"You shouldn't believe rumors," she said. "Jowan and I are only friends. Best friends, in fact. But that's all we'll ever feel for each other."
He nodded as though he understood. Maybe he looked even a little relieved.
"Well," he finally said, clearing his throat. "It's late." Since neither of them found something to say next, he managed to find a new topic. "It's been quite some time since your late-night visits with Devlin. H-how is he fairing?"
"Why are you asking me?" she wanted to know; her voice was gentle. "He told me you visited him for nearly a week after I stopped. He said you were kind and made him feel safe, and that you checked for demons every night so that he could sleep in peace."
Cullen shifted uncomfortably at being caught and refused to make eye contact. She leaned closer, hoping he would look at her.
"H-he mentioned my name?"
"He didn't have to. I know it was you." She touched his plated arm. "Thank you, Cullen. It really means a lot to me that you'd do that for him."
He finally looked up at her and she frowned at his tormented expression.
"It would take all of my strength to use my sword against him," he said, "and I would be broken forever after."
She felt a pang of guilt for her cynical comment that night so many months ago. The realization that it had haunted him all this time made her squirm in shame inside. She withdrew her hand from his arm and her fingers twisted together nervously.
"I shouldn't have said that. I was just being bitter," she admitted. "You didn't deserve it. It's just most templars have such a… grim view of us mages; part fear… part hatred."
"Looming ever-present in our thoughts is the potential for danger in every second of every day. Sometimes, it's hard for templars to separate those thoughts from daily life."
"Do you think I'm dangerous?" she asked, taking a step closer to him. His frown deepened. "Do you think that I would ever hurt you?"
"I-I don't think you'd mean to, but… I know one day you might."
"I would never hurt you," she insisted. "If I were possessed by a demon and became an abomination, I would no longer be myself. Enaara would cease to exist. A demon may hurt you, but you already know a demon will. I, Enaara, would never hurt you, Cullen." She watched him swallow, unsure of where the conversation was going. She took another step closer. "But you… you would hurt me. You would hurt me out of fear or following an order—for as little as mere suspicion that I could potentially be dangerous. You would, not a demon… So tell me: who should be more afraid of whom? You of me? …Or me of you?"
Enaara started to walk away but Cullen reached out and grabbed her arm. She glanced back as her heart skipped a beat.
"I… understand." He looked pained. "A-are you afraid of me?"
"Every mage I know is terrified of the templars," she replied coldly, then her voice softened and she added, "but of all the templars, I fear you the least. You're kind and easy to talk to."
He let her go, nodding.
"You can come and talk to me any time you like," he said.
"That's okay?" she asked, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Templars are supposed to protect the people from the mages, but also the mages from the people. We aren't supposed to be enemies. It's wrong that it's turned out this way."
Enaara swooned inside herself. His soft-spoken opinion went directly to her heart. She wordlessly turned and went to her table and Cullen followed confused. She gathered up her notes and reports, shuffling them into a neat pile.
"Do you know most apprentice mages go into their Harrowing with an understanding of elemental or arcane magic?" she said casually.
"Uh…"
"It's funny, don't you think? Almost all mages start out exploring those two schools before they ever consider the other schools of magic. Many spiritists or healers will tell you they started out elementally or delving into the arcane before the creation magic caught their eye or they felt more at home wielding spirit magic."
"Really?" he asked hesitantly, still confused.
"But not me," she said, leaning on the table and looking up at him, notes hugged to her chest. "I've been studying entropic magic."
He suddenly looked worried. "Entropy?"
"Mhm," she confirmed. "Don't you think if I understand the way magic and the Fade works on the mind, I'll be able to better guard my own?"
"I guess so. I don't really understand magic."
"I suppose the Chant of Light doesn't cover that, huh?" She laughed and could tell he was still slightly uncomfortable. "If I have this talent, I should use it. I'd like to do something… extraordinary with it. Then maybe mages will start to be remembered for their good deeds, not just their bad ones."
He chuckled. "I imagine it."
"You can dispel my magic." It was more of a statement than a question.
"That is one of the skills a templar must master, yes."
"Through lyrium. Interesting, really. I wonder how many of your skills can be produced through lyrium absorption only, or if there's another way."
"I'm not sure…"
"As long as your consuming lyrium, you may as well consider all of the other skills you could develop through it."
"I'd rather not. I have all I need to do my job as the Chantry dictates."
Enaara smiled again. "It's just theory," she said. "I don't mean anything to be considered for application. Mages are naturally curious about their own power but… I'm also curious about yours."
"Why?" He was hesitant. She shrugged.
"I suppose… I'd just like to understand you better…" They both blushed that time. "Maybe that's silly."
"No," he mumbled. "F-for me as well."
Enaara suddenly felt very embarrassed. Her heart was pounding and her face felt hot, so hot her vision was going fuzzy; the adrenaline pumping through her body flooded her in doses she'd never experienced before, not even with Derik. Afraid he would see, afraid of rejection, afraid of her own actions she may commit under the influence, she panicked.
"I should go," she said, "you're right, it is late."
Enaara hurried off, even hearing his grunt that never properly became the word "wait". She hugged her notes close to her chest, feeling the spindly pricks under her cheeks from the wave of heat that threatened to overcome her. No matter how much she tried to control it, she couldn't. The effect wasn't leaving her. She prayed she didn't run into someone. How could she explain her state?
"Where are you going?" Lydia called as she ran past. Enaara cursed in the back of her head, not even realizing she'd passed her good friend.
"Bath," was her snap-reply.
"I'll join you—"
"I'm going to be studying." Enaara held the notes up so that her friend could see she was telling the truth. "We'll talk later."
"All right…" Lydia trailed off, baffled as Enaara darted away.
Once she was locked in the bathroom, she filled the tub with hot water, stripped, and sunk low in the steamy pool. Cullen's words and face were pressing into every crevice of her mind, whirling quickly as she recounted all of the little moments at once. Inside, her chest was fluttering and her stomach was squirming. She felt hot internally, making the water almost cool.
She slipped under the waterline, counted to three, and then came up for air. She brushed her short, black hair from her face and attempted to shake the thoughts from her head, but she was still blushing furiously.
"I'm going to do it," she whispered to the bubbles. "When I pass my Harrowing, I'll do it—I'll kiss him."
Though she tried to study after her bath, she was unable to clear her mind. It took two days for her to effectively regain her focus.