A Templar and a Mage

On the first night of winter, Enaara found herself waking in the library. She'd fallen asleep reading by the fire and the place had emptied out. She wondered how late it was. The curfew had virtually lifted though there were unspoken restrictions about mages being out and about too late or seemingly without a reason. She quickly gathered up the reading materials and began returning them to shelves.

The suit of armor did not sneak up on her like it had over half a year ago. She didn't turn around, not feeling up to dealing with the templars.

"I fell asleep reading," she explained calmly. "I'm returning to the mage quarters as soon as I put these books away."

"I am tormented," Cullen said. She whirled around and one of the books slipped through her suddenly numb fingers, thumping as it hit the floor. "I'm taunted by the one thing I always wanted but cannot have…" He cleared the distance between them.

"Cullen…" she muttered, shocked by what she was seeing, hearing.

"A mage of all things…" he groaned.

"What does it matter what I am?" she asked, knowing there was a long list of reasons why it mattered; she prayed he could look past them. Him coming to her then was a sign it was possible. She begged the Maker, if there was one, that this was not another trick.

"Mages are dangerous," he recited his tutelage, "and to be vulnerable to one is asking for trouble. Our code forbids intermingling between the Chantry and Circle; if our feelings were to get in the way of our duty… Th-the Maker," he went on, grasping at straws, and then he gave up. "I just can't see anything in you that would hurt anyone…"

"I wouldn't," she promised, allowing herself to hope. Tears threatened her as she filled with desperation, wanting him to understand, needing him to understand. He was so close now; she was having a hard time breathing. "Not anymore than you would, than anyone would to protect themselves and their loves ones."

"I'm a templar," he whispered, and she felt his breath on her cheeks and nose. His words were almost desperate, as though he were begging for a reason that she, too, should deny this.

"I don't care," she said quickly and there was a pause where they made eye contact. "I've already thought about it… about me and you and who we are. I was born into this world a mage, yes, but first and foremost… I'm a person. I can't stop being a mage just like I can't stop feeling for you the way I do."

"This could hurt us—it could destroy us," he warned, but she shut him up.

"Everything has a price," she said. "Magic has taught me that. But the hard work, the persecution, the struggles, even the pain… the reward is worth it…"

He was silent for a moment, staring down at her neck in thought.

"Am I too late?" he asked softly. She frowned and he peered up at her. "Your friend… Jowan…"

Then it clicked.

"No," she said quickly. "No, that's nothing. It's just for show, just so someone will leave me alone. I promise, we're only friends. I…" She swallowed the lump in her throat. "I couldn't forget you. What about you… and that girl?"

"There is no other," he promised. "Just a silly girl who did not realize my heart belonged to someone already."

She was more than relieved but it was shadowed by her insides melting in joy. Did he realize that everything he'd said had been exactly what she needed to hear?

"Enaara," he whispered hoarsely, slowly lifting his hands and dropping something around her neck. It was the amulet. When she looked up, he was barely an inch from her face. "You really should rethink this…" he said, and then he kissed her.

She inhaled sharply. This time, his kiss was hard and powerful, forcing her back into the bookshelf. His mouth stifled her gasp, hungry for the taste of her. She wrapped her arms around him, cursing the armor that separated them. Their tongues brushed together, exciting nerves in places only he seemed able to reveal.

"Cullen," she whispered between kisses. Her amber eyes gazed up into his gray ones. "I-I don't think I can stand you breaking my heart twice."

"I never want to hurt you," he swore as he ripped his glove off; he cupped her cheek in his hand, reveling in the skin-to-skin touch. His eyes lingered lovingly over that place where his palm lay over her jaw and then he found her eyes again. "I can't promise this won't end badly," he whispered. "I can't tell the future. But I promise: I care for you… I've spent months repenting to the Maker for my feelings, but the Maker never answers. I don't think this is something I have to repent for. I can't see how this could be wrong." He pressed his fingers into her flesh as though he were afraid she'd be ripped away from him, and then slid them back into her hair. "This can't be wrong."

"It isn't," she assured him, closing her eyes as his fingers roamed through her hair.

"It isn't…" he agreed breathily, brushing his lips along hers, her cheek, her jaw. They lost themselves in the moment, exchanging passion and heat until they knew they could go no further.

Cullen was the one to break the kiss, grunting in longing as he did.

"I don't know when we can be together next…" he said.

"We'll find ways."

"I don't know how."

"We can leave messages for each other. In the books, in the halls… there's no law that says we cannot speak to one another."

"Every message must be burned. Even writing them… I don't know. Creating evidence… it's just too risky."

"They'll all be burned," she agreed. Part of her couldn't believe this was happening; it was a dream, or a ploy, or a cruel joke she'd never recover from.

"Enaara," he said, as though reveling in the liberation to speak her name as he pleased.

"I care for you…" she whispered.

He smiled—something she hadn't seen in a long time—and it made her heart feel squeezed tightly. He tucked the amulet inside her robes and brushed his knuckles along her jaw, combed his fingers through her hair again, and resisted kissing her one last time.

"A templar and a mage…" he mused quietly. She touched his breastplate over his heart. He couldn't resist. He kissed her again; it was shorter but with no less hunger than the others.

The fleeting moment they had together was a foreshadowing of their lives to come, but it filled them with such painful joy that they hardly cared. To find any happiness and love outside of duty in the Chantry and the Circle was more than they could've ever hoped for.