Part Two: Widows in Ferelden
Chapter Four
The last fading rays of the sun are filtering through the library windows when Solana leans back and rubs a tired hand over her eyes. She's been reading about the caste system of the dwarven kingdom. It's fascinating, but tedious. Nothing but a few dusty reports from a court appointed explorer hundreds of years ago. The unilateral descent system is certainly one of a kind on the continent. She makes a note on her parchment about the page she's stopped on and stands. Her back and shoulders pop as she stretches slowly and works out the kinks from her spine.
Behind her she can hear a templar shifting their weight and she glances back. A soft smile flits across her face as she recognizes Cullen. He ties his sash a little differently making him easy to identify despite the helm. Given the time, though, she knows that it would be him. He's always here at this time of the day; in that lull between classes and dinner. She thinks that their soft friendship is one of the best part about her days, especially when they're here in the library. For a templar he's surprisingly intelligent and well versed in the world outside the Tower. More than once she's asked his opinion on things she's studying and had it given freely.
"Good afternoon, Ser Cullen. I didn't hear you come in." She sounds sincere, and she is, when she stands in front of him. He takes off his helm, even though he's not really supposed to. With the many conversations they've engaged in, she'd finally admitted that it was hard to understand him through the thing about a month ago. Now, any time they talk, he takes it off. He reaches up with his free hand and runs it over the top of his head. She watches the fingers as they ruffle the red hair and wonders if it's as soft as it looks.
"You were . . . absorbed." As always, there's hesitation in his words. Initially, when she's first spoken to him, she hadn't understood the reason. However, she's learned. The light brown of his gaze flickers down her body. He does this frequently, she notices, and is most likely not aware of it. Solona has made it an art form to read the subtle messages another person sends out with their body.
Her research indicates that Cullen finds her attractive.
That's all right with her; she likes the way he looks too. Both of them are adults, for the most part, and there's nothing unhealthy with attraction. That's something else she's learned in her studies. She's come to learn that the things the Maker creates are perfect; exactly the way they should be. Only man corrupts what the Maker has given them. Only the rules of man say that it would be wrong, bad, for her to lie with the templar. That is to say- that they shouldn't- She pushes away the faint guilt that flares up at the thought.
"But, of course. You know me; once I start reading it's hard to stop." The smile he gives her makes familiar butterflies appear in her stomach. He really is a handsome man. She watches his eyes again, looking for another telling sign that he desires her. Perhaps-
"I do. Know you, that is. You're going to be late for dinner if you don't hurry." His final words break her concentration and she blinks as she looks away. He always sounds like he's in a rush to get somewhere at the end of their conversations. It makes her feel like maybe she's not reading him right, that he really doesn't like her. At least, not in the way she thinks about him. It feels like he's just being polite.
She turns to go but his gauntlet on her arm stops her in her tracks. "Don't forget your notes. You might want to study later." In her head, she supplies the 'in bed' that he's probably leaving off. Cullen's smile is warm and those butterflies are back. Solona feels her cheeks heating up under his eyes and when he lets go she slips out of the room before letting go of her breath.
The halls are empty, for the most part. She feels the eyes of some of the other templars on her when she passes. She ignores them. They are brainwashed; the mislead children of a lying mother. There's bitterness in her throat as she considers the Chantry and she wills the taste away. It's left behind, just like those templars, as she enters the feast hall.
At their usual table, her companions wait. There's a seat for her, between Shuul and Jowan, which she climbs into. The bench rocks with her weight and Shuul almost upends. The table laughs as he frantically corrects his balance. "For an elf you sure are bad at this whole grace thing."
"Shove it Neria." The table laughs on. Solona wonders, for a moment, about the many noises surrounding her and the constant bustle. When she'd first arrived in the Apprentice Quarters there was just too much movement around her. The world was too vibrant and vivid after spending those two years in confinement. She knows now that it was essential that she be kept separate.
She understands. Now.
She watches her companions, her friends, as they joke and kid with one another. These are the moments that feel like their lives will last like this forever. The few of them; Jowan and Shuul and Neria and Keili and her. Solona knows this is the immortality of youth that she's read about so much. Neria throws a roll at her head and she's snapped back into present time.
"How's the studying going? Find anything new and exciting about the dwarves?"
Solona leans forward. "Well, I read more about their descent patterns. I get that it's unilateral and I'm desperate to know what the reasoning is. I have a feeling that it's about their caste, you know with the nobles, warriors, that kind of stuff. But it's possible to change castes. It's harder with our system, ya know. People born into a farming family usually become farmers-"
"Unless they're born a mage!"
She specific side-steps Jowan's exclamation and continues.
"I guess what I'm saying is that I hope the circle will let me go to Orzammar or something after I'm an enchanter so I can do more research."
"Sometimes I think you care more about learning things you'll never have any use for than you do about the people around you." Everyone titters at that too but they're only half-joking and Solona knows that.
She would rather spend time learning and studying than she being with other people, sometimes. Books don't talk back. Well, not the way that her friends do. They lose interest with her quickly and move on to something that affects them all.
"I hear you're being harrowed in a few days Shuul. Worried?" From one elf to another, the question is laced with subtext. This, too, is something that Solona has been looking for. A way to tell what sorts of secret messages Shuul and Neria pass between the two of them.
Shuul squeezes his eyes shut and throws his hands in the air, displaying clearly his excitement. "I am so very ready!" His voice rises above the rest of the room and there's sudden quiet as everyone looks right at him. Shuul doesn't care. He shouts again and the older mages, those that can understand his excitement, grin back at him.
The group laughs. Their times will come. Inevitably, it always does.
-!-
She's back in the library again after dinner. The guard has been changed and she gives the templar standing in Cullen's place a quick look before heading back to her desk. Oh yes, her desk. She only has a dozen pages left to read before she's done with this codex and she wants to finish. Solona is driven by the need to know the rest of this strange story so she can file it away with the rest of the information in her head.
The pages don't take all that long but once she's done with the book she goes back and rereads her notes, just to be sure she has everything down. And then, she glances back through the book. She feels like she's sucked all the knowledge out of this tome that she can. The ancient paper feels like silk in her fingertips as she flips through, just once more.
At the top of the Tower the bells that have counted out her life for the last fourteen years ring in the eleventh hour. It's time to sleep.
The templar makes no move as she passes him and Solona thinks he must have fallen asleep. Carroll and Aldridge have the tendency to do that, but only in the library.
The halls are silent as she makes her way up to the Apprentices Quarters. Her head is full of castes and lineal systems and that one healing spell she's just incapable of casting. She hears, in the back of her mind, the armor clanking in front of her and if her nose hadn't been buried in her notes she'd have probably seen the templar descending as she ascended.
Her world tips backwards and hangs there for just a moment. Solona's eyes go wide and she realizes she's falling. Back and down and there's stairs. She throws the papers in her hands; this is going to hurt-
Her hip takes the brunt of the impact with her shoulder not far behind. Her head connects with the stone steps last and she's knocked almost senseless. The three steps below her rush up to meet her body and she thumps all the way back down to the landing where she stops in a heap. Deep breaths. She flexes her muscles slowly; nothing feels so painful that it could be broken.
The crunch of armor on the stairs catches her ear. She glances up. Templar. Whichever one, she has no idea. Just that this templar is big and she doesn't know him. "Useless mage. Apprentice. Why don't you watch where you're going?"
Ser Emic then. A shiver runs down her spine; few templars are ever really cruel but it's just her luck that Emic is one of these spiteful few. And he hates her. With a fierce and extreme passion stemming from an incident with a water spell gone horribly awry at the same time as a lightning spell. And Emic in his metal armor; Solona had spent a week under observation after that debacle.
She's dragged to her feet and shaken. The impact of her fall makes her cry out in pain and Emic shakes her again, harder. "Always with your face buried in a book. Too clumsy for the likes of this place." Solona can feel the metal of his gauntlet digging into her skin again and it hurts.
It hurts like she's six again and just watched her family go up in flames. She's flooded with fear and she can't move. A flash of paper, floating softly to the ground finally, catches her attention before its jarred back to Emic and his anger. Through his helm she can make out his narrowed eyes and she knows she needs to talk her way out of this and fast.
"Please, ser, I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention. I'll watch out, next time. I promise I'll be more careful." She sounds weak and a little frantic. There's energy building around her, an automatic response she's never really ever been able to master when panicked. "Please."
Emic pulls them face to face. She can feel his breath escaping from the opening at his neck. He smells like hatred. Solona closes her eyes and prays.
O Maker, hear my cry: let me shine in your light. Solona feels her energy building, unbidden. She can't push it down and it's going to pull her in. O Maker. Give me fortitude.
"What are you doing?"
Both the templar and Solona turn, surprised, at the new voice and she knows that her relief is audible when she realizes its Cullen. Cullen with the sharp mind and the soft smile. He wears no such smile at this moment though. His face is a storm of anger and when he speaks it is thunder. "Let her go!"
Solona doesn't think Emic will listen, but something in the other templar's tone forces him to release her. She stumbles back into the wall of the stairwell. Emic raises his hands. "Just teaching her a lesson about being careful, Ser Cullen. Nothing amiss here."
Cullen takes one step forward. His presence fills the room and even Solona wants to shrink back from the wrath coming off him in waves. "Leave, now, and I won't be forced to explain this mishap to the Knight-Commander." The air is still thick with tension and anger. Emic lowers his hands and glares, once, at Solona before walking off. She swears he's whistling off-tune as he rounds the corner.
When the last of his shiny backside disappears she collapses to the ground. Her right hip really hurts and by proxy her leg. She lands in a ball of robes and sore and she can't help the soft cry of pain that escapes.
"Are you all right?"
Cullen is beside her, knelt down and tipping her face up to him. She memorizes the widened eyes and the creased brow. Concern. Worry. She manages a smile, just to try and cheer him up. It works, she thinks, as he returns her smile. Relief.
"What happened?"
The stone beneath her bites into her ankles. She shifts her body weight, putting her butt on the ground and allowing her back to arch. It takes some of the pressure off her hip and it feels better. Still painful. Just less so.
"I wasn't paying attention and ran into him. I was looking over my notes." She waves a hand at the scattered parchments. "I should be more careful." There's a rueful note in her tone that Cullen shakes off.
"Ser Emic is a bully. I'm just glad-" When he pauses she swears that her heart skips a beat because he's looking at her like he can't stand the thought of losing her. "I'm glad you're all right." It makes some sort of convoluted sense that Cullen actually cares. There's, of course, logical explanations for his concern. It's his job to make sure she's safe. His job.
His hand reaches up and cups her cheek. She is almost positive that he's about to kiss her and she inhales sharply at the idea. Just the thought sends pangs straight to her center. But, he doesn't lean forward simply turns her face to the left. It hurts when she moves her neck like that and her next whimper of pain seems to jar Cullen. "You're already starting to bruise." He pushes back from her, rolling on the balls of his feet back to a standing position. He makes quick work of collecting her papers and soon he's back in front of her. "Come on; let's get you back to the dorms."
She takes his offered hand, cold metal gauntlet and all, and he pulls her up. She wants to pretend like the act of standing isn't horribly painful but she can't and she grimaces. He loops an arm around her midsection and helps her tackle the stairs.
He pauses outside the dorm and turns to her. "Are you going to be all right?"
She raises a hand and rubs her sore head. It just makes her wince again. Cullen's hand replaces hers and his touch is more gentle despite his armor as he checks over the bump again. The metal is cold; she shivers away from his touch and smiles up, just to show him it's all right. He's not deterred, however, and he removes his gauntlet.
She feels his fingertips brush her hairline.
Her world freezes. Her limbs go heavy; her spine is numb and she can't move for fear of breaking contact with him. Even as she feels the cold she can also feel heat spread out from the touch. She can do nothing but blink up at him. He's watching his hand, almost reverently, and she realizes his lips are so close.
And now his mouth is moving and saying something but she doesn't hear. Doesn't care.
So close.
In the days to come Solona will think back on this moment many times. Usually with a wistful sense of happiness, less often with a feeling of loss and regret, but always with conviction. She reaches up, wraps her hand around the back of his neck, and pulls his lips down to her own.
He's in the middle of a word and she coaxes him slowly into the kiss, at first slight and hesitant. As he shuts up she pulls harder on his neck, forcing their mouths closer. The kiss deepens. She still feels numb for the most part but her mouth has its own plans. He's kissing back now and she could almost laugh at how untried he seems. Almost. She won't, would never. Not now, with the warm press of his tongue against hers she is jolted into hyperawareness.
Cullen's hand cups her cheek now as he tries to kiss her harder. It makes her head spin; she's lightheaded now. They make no further contact but it's enough. The hair at the nape of his neck is not as soft as she expected it to be. The curls wind themselves around her fingers. She tightens her grip more.
As she tightens, he pulls away, gasping for air. For a long drawn out moment there is nothing but the two sets of wide eyes that stare into each other and the sounds of their labored breathing.
The clock tolls again, signaling midnight.
Solana jumps back from Cullen, startled and suddenly aware of what's just happened. Her fingers shake as they rise to touch her swollen lips and his gaze follows the movement. She is speechless.
Him, not quite as much. "I- I am so . . . sorry. I shouldn't- we- this was wrong." It's the way he says it, full of regret.
She can tell that this is what having her heart break feels like. Numb, once more. Breathless and confused and incredibly turned on. But so sad. She's brimming with the feeling and it closes an icy grip around her spine.
Cullen turns and flees before Solona can think of anything to say.
She watches him go. There's nothing else she could do, she thinks. He slips away.
Her pillow muffles the strange emotions that she cries out that night as she falls asleep.