Dragon 9:29, Solace 27

Amell

Solona glanced around anxiously as she was escorted through the halls of the tower by a nameless templar.

Ever since the rumors of blood magic had been proven true, as Solona knew only too well, the tower had been in a lockdown. Extra templars roamed the hall at all hours, the apprentices were accompanied in groups to and from all classes, and the library was closed every evening after dinner.

A door shut behind her, its echoing bang causing Solona to jump and glance back.

They marched to the end of the hall and into the knight-commander's office. Greagoir and Irving stood as they entered.

"Ah, Apprentice Amell," Greagoir began, absently shuffling papers on his desk. "Please, have a seat."

Solona sat, her eyes flicking down to the top paper on Greagoir's desk. It was the duty roster for the templars next month. Before she could catch any names or details, though, it was tucked carefully out of sight.

I haven't seen Cullen anywhere for days… if only I had looked closer to see where he'll be patrolling!

"Now, Solona, I'm sure you know why we've asked you here, right?"

She was pulled out of her thoughts, and turned to nod at the first enchanter's kind smile.

"Would you mind telling us what happened that night on the second floor, Apprentice Amell?" Greagoir asked as he sat, his armor clanking against the polished wood. He furrowed his brow as he regarded her, quill poised at the ready.

As Irving nodded encouragingly, Solona took a deep breath and began. "Neria and I had been practicing in the designated room on the third floor. I got tired, so I left early – she said she would stay behind to study some more on her own. On my way back to the dormitories, I ran into Match. Over the past several months, he had been trying to pursue a… relationship with me. I had no interest, and had already turned him down several times. That night, when I told him to leave me alone and I tried to leave, he got very angry. I tried to run, but he cast some sort of web that I didn't recognize – I tried to break it, but it must have been some sort of spell I'd never encountered, because nothing I tried seemed to have any impact on it at all."

Irving nodded. "Yes, blood magic corrupts the usual spells that a mage can cast. You would only have been able to break free if you yourself were a blood mage. I know the recollection is hard, but please continue, my dear."

"Well, I was getting rather dizzy from casting so many spells – under any normal circumstances I wouldn't have depleted my mana to such an extent. I tried to scream, but he became infuriated and caused the web to cover my mouth. Then, when I didn't think things could get any worse, he – he pulled out a dagger. I thought at first that he was going to kill me, but then he cut himself. I felt a horrible vacuum of power pull toward Match – it was both freezing cold and hot at the same time." Solona shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.

Greagoir glanced at Irving, who shook his head sadly before saying, "It is such a shame that Match turned to forbidden magic. He showed such promise, too."

"Please continue, apprentice," Greagoir said after a pause.

She cleared her throat. "I don't really remember much of anything after that. He hit me –" Solona's voice broke, and she touched her cheek where she still bore a memento from that night. It had finally faded to yellow and green over the last few days.

Irving walked over and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Solona. We know this is difficult for you to recount, and must have been terrifying. In order to understand what happened, though, we need as much information as you can give us."

Solona swallowed hard, then nodded, looking down at the worn stone floor. "My vision went after that. I'm not sure if it was just from him hitting me, or if it was something to do with the web I was trapped in, too. I couldn't see anything – I was expecting to die at any moment. Not being able to see where he was, or what he was doing…" Her throat tightened, remembering that horrible feeling… able to make out only hazy, blurred shapes and colors, unable to move a muscle…

"I know that someone walked in, but I don't know who it was." Solona paused, lost in thought. "Wait. I do remember something… eyes. Brown? Green, maybe?" She shook her head, unable to recall exactly what she had seen. "I heard shouting, and I think I must have passed out after that, because the next thing I remember was waking up after being healed."

There was silence but for the scratching of Greagoir's quill. With a sigh, he stopped writing and turned to the first enchanter. "Irving, I'm sure that we both agree that it is highly unlikely that Match was the only blood mage in the tower – when there is one, there are usually several. They feed off of one another's ambitions and lust for power, constantly working to undermine authority and turn others to their cause. Our task is laid before us: we must get to the bottom of this – and fast – if we want to preserve the integrity of the circle."

"Agreed," Irving said quietly.

"Apprentice Amell, thank you for your statement," the knight-commander said, turning to her. "You are free to go."

"Thank you, ser," she replied, rising to her feet. Before she reached the door, though, she hesitated. "Please, knight-commander, I was wondering exactly what happened after I fainted that night? What became of Match, and who was it that came in and saved me?"

There was another long pause where Greagoir looked hard at her before replying. "I apologize, apprentice, but that is templar business. I suggest that if you are looking to thank your savior, you need only give your gratitude to the Maker."

Dragon 9:29, August 1

"Hey! Wait up, Solona!"

She was on her way to the library, hoping to sneak in a little bit of study time before dinner. Rolling her eyes at Anders' shout, she turned around as he ran up behind her. His robes were askew, and his breath came in short bursts.

"Anders? Where's the fire?"

"Ha, ha, very funny," he replied, opening his palm and igniting a small ball of blue flame. "In my hand, now that you ask, but that's not what I'm here for. I need your help."

Solona smiled and adjusted the pile of books she was carrying. "You need my help? With what? Somehow, I doubt that you're worrying over an impending Harrowing like Neria is. You're probably not even going to be eligible until after me, especially considering all the problems you've caused."

Anders rolled his eyes and smirked. "Worried about the dreaded Harrowing? Me? Hah! No, I need your help with something a bit more… delicate."

"Hmm, and by 'delicate' I suppose you mean not strictly allowed, especially considering the tightened security around here?"

Anders looked around to make certain they wouldn't be overheard before elaborating. "Listen, Solona, will you just drop off your books and come with me? Trust me, it's not a big deal. You could say that just want to… follow up with something. I swear that neither of us will get in trouble."

She could help but smile at her friend's easy confidence. "You mean that neither of us will get in trouble as long as we aren't caught, right?"

He flashed a big grin. "Precisely."

"Fine, come with me to drop off my things and then we can go do whatever it is you need to do so urgently." Solona tried to sound impatient, but she couldn't help but get caught up in Anders' infectious excitement.

After depositing her books and other supplies in her footlocker, Solona met Anders again outside of her door. She followed him through the hall and toward the main entrance of the tower.

"Anders, where are we going?" Solona hissed. "Please tell me you're not planning on just trying to walk out the front doors on another crazy escape attempt?"

"Nope. That's next month. Ah, here we are," he said, stopping in the enormous foyer that opened up just down the corridor from the main entrance. This was the room that led to the basement and the isolation cells. Anders sauntered straight over to the guard at the top of the stairs.

"Halt. This area is off-limits except for official business that is sanctioned by the knight-commander and first enchanter," the templar said, holding one hand up to stop their progress.

"Excellent!" Anders said, fishing in his pockets before producing a rather crinkly piece of parchment. "I just so happen to be here on official business that is officially sanctioned… blah, blah, blah."

The templar read over the proffered note, before carefully looking at them both. He addressed Solona, "I suppose you must be this… Apprentice Amell?"

Catching the warning glance that Anders gave her, she simply nodded and said, "Yes, ser."

He scrutinized the note one more time, as if willing the letters to reveal some form of mischief or forgery, but finally nodded and handed the paper back to Anders. "Very good, you two. I've never seen two apprentices sent down on cell cleaning duty before, but I suppose there's a first time for everything. Keep in mind that dinner is three bells from now, and you must return by then."

Anders clapped his heels together and gave a smart salute. "Yes, ser! We'll be back in time, ser! You can count on us, ser! The isolation cells will be the cleanest they've been since the first wayward mage was confined there, ser!"

"Yes, yes," the templar replied in a long-suffering tone. "Just get it done and get back up here."

Once they had closed the door at the top of the stairs, Solona whirled on her friend. "Anders! What in Andraste's holy name is going on?"

"Oh, don't worry about the cells. I cleaned them already – ages ago, in fact," Anders replied with a dismissing wave. "I changed the date on the slip of paper rather than throwing it away, and it was a simple enough task to replicate the writing on the form to add your name to it. I just needed to wait until the new month when a different templar would be guarding this door."

Solona rolled her eyes. "Fine. If we aren't here to scrub out chamber pots, then what am I doing here with you? Whatever you might have told Neria, the rats down here really aren't all that friendly."

"Remember that room you told me you found while you were bored out of your mind down here? Well, I'd like to find it again and poke around these ancient relics myself!"

"'Neither of us will get in trouble…' Yes. This is a fantastic idea," Solona mocked, shaking her head.

"Oh, come on, Solona! It'll be fun! Just think of all the knowledge we could gain, reading all these off-limit texts…" Anders tilted his head to the ceiling and adopted a wondering tone.

"You want to read texts? Hah!" Solona giggled. "I personally think it's far more likely that you want to find a dashing pair of robes and a fancy staff that you can hide away until you pass your Harrowing."

"Hey! I like to read!" Anders said, but then conceded with a grin, "Well, at least when the material is more interesting than 'stand still with arms loosely at your side, calmly seek the inner peace within and touch your mana, channel your power while concentrating on Andraste's arse…'"

"Hmm, I can't say that I've ever read about a spell where we need to concentrate on that particular image… maybe I really should be back upstairs studying," Solona said, trying in vain to hide the grin that was fixed on her face.

"Oh, come on, Solona. Please?" He drew out the syllables of his plea, clutching both hands in front of his chest and pouting at her.

"Fine. But if we get caught and I can't take my Harrowing for another three years because of this, I may never speak to you again."

"Don't say that! We both know it's not true," he replied cheekily. "Ah, now this was your cell, wasn't it? Where is this elusive entrance you were telling me about?"

Solona walked over to where the mat she had slept on still lay. She felt around for the loose stones she'd piled back in place, and with Anders' help, managed to reopen the passageway that she'd discovered earlier that year.

"Be careful," she said to Anders, "further up, there's an area that's a rather tight fit."

"No problem," he said, his voice muffled because he'd already thrust his entire torso into the tunnel. "Once we get there I'll just carve it up a bit. I doubt the anti-magic spell they have on the cell walls will be effective further in."

Upon entering the room, Anders became positively giddy. He ran up and down the aisles of books, occasionally stopping to glance at a title that caught his interest, before rushing off once more. Once he spotted the rows of chests against the far wall, though, he was lost in his own world. He occasionally called Solona over to show her an ancient weapon he'd found, or to exclaim over some artifact that he was certain was priceless.

Solona wandered through the books, occasionally pulling one down and reading a few pages. She'd handed the book on the Tevinter Imperium to Anders almost immediately after they'd entered, and he had put it in the small bag he'd brought along to take back to the main tower. Along with the book she'd supplied him with, he had already added several small trinkets to the bag, as well as another book concerning benevolent spirits of the Fade.

"You know," Anders said, sorting idly through yet another chest, "I really can't wait to read that book on good spirits. I can't help but wonder if spirit healers go through some sort of, I don't know, pseudo possession to gain the abilities that they have. I know that they use the energy of compassionate spirits to bolster their abilities, but how they manage to do that is all very vague. I suppose if that's the route I choose to go once I become a mage I'll learn more about it then." He shot a grin at Solona. "Then again, maybe I'll be one step ahead and learn what it's all about after reading this book!"

"Mmm," Solona mumbled in agreement. She frowned with distaste as she gingerly replaced the book she'd picked up. Though the language hadn't been one she recognized, the spells that the book held looked extraordinarily… unpleasant. All of the illustrations seemed to depict both the mage and the victim in varying degrees of agony, and if what was actually happening to those people was possible through these spells, she had no doubt as to why the first enchanter had hidden this particular tome away.

"Say, Solona?" Anders called, his voice casual.

"Yes?"

"I was wondering about the night all that drama happened with Match, the cutting and bleeding, the awful excess of power, the stains of the floor… you know what I'm talking about."

Solona sighed and snapped shut the cover of the book she'd picked up. "What do you want to know this time, Anders? I swear that I've already told you all there is to know." Aside from Neria, Anders had been the first one to visit her while she was recovering from the incident, and after a rather rushed confirmation that she was doing fine, he'd launched into an interrogation even more exhaustive than the knight-commander's had been.

"Oh, well, you have told me most of it, yes. I admit that I'm more curious about what you think about your heroic templar that rushed in to slay the foul abomination and thus save you?"

"As I've already told you, I am very grateful to whomever it was, but I have no idea who saved me. I couldn't exactly see through the haze of blood, if it's all the same to you."

"What? You mean that you don't know who saved you? As thorough as the templars are with some things, they really can't keep secrets to save their pious souls. If you'd actually bothered to eavesdrop on any of them, you'd have found out right away who it was," he said smugly.

"Oh, and I don't suppose you'd care to tell me the name of my hero, would you?" Solona asked dryly.

"I might be willing to," he said, his voice trailing off suggestively.

"What do you want this time, Anders? My dessert at the end of the week? Help studying your primal spells? Delivery of a love note to the latest pretty face to catch your eye?" Solona asked, rolling her eyes. "I swear, though, if you ask me to help you escape from the tower, you're out of luck!"

"No, no, nothing like that. How about a secret for a secret?" he asked, one brow raised.

Solona stared at him, then agreed. "Fine. What is it you want to know? My life's an open book."

"Oh, I know that," he said impatiently. "Did you really think I wanted to know a secret about you, Solona? I know everything about you! No, the secret that I want is about Jowan."

Solona laughed. "Jowan? I'm certain that he's told you more than he has me."

"Most of the time," Anders nodded, "but I've found out that there's a girl that he's soft on, and he refuses to tell me anything. I've even followed him around, and I can't figure out who it is!"

"Well, I have no idea!" Solona exclaimed.

"Here are my terms: I'll tell you who saved you as long as you talk to Jowan and find out who his little girlfriend is."

Solona sighed and shook Anders' extended hand. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. Somehow, though, I feel like Jowan's just telling you he has a girlfriend to get you worked up. I have a hard time picturing him with any of the other apprentices."

"That may be, but I suppose a deal's a deal. The identity of your unknown hero," he began dramatically, "is none other than… Ser Cullen."

Solona froze. She stared, unseeing in front of her, trying to work through the emotions that crashed through her.

Of course. The eyes that I saw… exactly the same shade as his. I'd recognize them anywhere.

Ever since their reconciliation that night outside of her dorm, Solona had finally allowed herself to acknowledge that she might have actually developed feelings for a templar, unlikely though it seemed. In the days and weeks after, she'd found excuses to alter the routes she walked to and from classes and dinner so that she could pass by him. When she did, she'd glance to the side and grin at him if nobody was looking. Occasionally, when she felt brave, she'd look over her shoulder and see a soft smile on his face – the gentle curve of lips that she'd come to think of as her smile. She'd tease him late at night as she left the library, feeling empowered at the faint flush that crept up his neck when she did so. Even now, she could recall his deep voice quietly saying her name when he was sure nobody else would hear.

Solona.

The way his tongue smoothly rolled over the syllables was enough to cause her to shiver, his secretive tone more intimate because of his forbidden familiarity.

His change in his manner, the darkening of his hazel eyes when he looked at her, the carefully controlled smiles – surely these meant that he felt something for her, too?

Realization hit her. Of course – the eyes that I remember. How did I not recognize it sooner? Of all the templars in the circle, what were the odds that he would be the one to intervene on my behalf?

"– and just as I was thinking about how everything happened, myself, the templar said that they were impressed that Cullen hadn't died, and was only injured," Anders continued on, his words tearing Solona painfully back to the present.

"Injured?" Solona managed to gasp, praying that the icy fist that seemed to be clenching her heart wasn't affecting her voice.

"Yep," Ander said, still thumbing through the book in his hand. "Personally, I'm also quite surprised, especially since we've always heard that abominations are more than a match for just one person. I guess he's recovered, though, since they said he's back on duty already."

"I – I've got to go," Solona said, dropping the book she held to the floor. She rushed past Anders and back to the tunnel, in her haste completely missing the self-satisfied smirk on her friend's face.

Solona blew past the confused guard at the top of the stairs, Anders close on her heels. She looked around wildly before turning to head for the library.

I have no idea what his schedule is this month! Where could he be now, before dinner? Library? Any one of the dozens of hall patrols?

"Um, Solona? Mind slowing down a bit?" Anders puffed out as he jogged to keep up with her. "I'm guessing you're plotting to go find Ser Stupendous and fall to your knees in gratitude? If so, I'd suggest waiting a bit."

Solona whirled to face him, her eyes wild.

"He's got duty at the main door. I already checked," Anders said with a grin, both hands held up defensively.

Solona stopped. She knew that if he was at the main door, there would be another guard with him. With the lack of other people in that area of the tower, there was no way that she could speak with him privately. And a private conversation was exactly what she needed.

She craved answers. How had he found her just in time? Had he been badly hurt? What exactly had happened? More so than any other question, though, she needed to know why. Why save her? It would have been so easy for him to seal the room, leave her to her fate, and run for help. He didn't have to risk dealing with an abomination alone – but he had.

Her head spun with what she'd just learned. She needed to talk to him – to thank him. As she walked into her dormitory, trying to figure out what she could do, she dropped onto her bed as everything suddenly made sense. Not only had she not seen him in the halls or any of his normal routes for days, but the knight-commander had also been reluctant to tell her who had saved her that night. Clearly, Greagoir suspected that Cullen might have some feelings beyond his duty to the Templar Order, and was now preventing him from seeing Solona for fear of the repercussions.

Her chest tightened. For some unfathomable reason, the thought of never coaxing that special smile out him again – of never seeing his kind eyes gaze after her in the corridors – was unbearable.

Solona snatched vellum and quill from her bag and quickly penned a note, folding it and tucking it into her sleeve. She glanced at the lyrium-imbued timepiece on the main desk, and rushed out, realizing that she didn't have much time until she was due at dinner.

She strode quickly through the halls and slipped past the enchanter who was supervising the apprentices in the crafting room, finally making her way into the caverns that led up to the templar quarters.

Reckless with the noise she was making, Solona flitted down the hall to Cullen's room with far less grace than she had the last time she'd been here, and slipped the note under his pillow. She poured a tiny amount of magic into the vellum – small enough that it wouldn't be detected by simply walking into the room, but enough that whoever laid his head down at night would feel its presence.

As she lay in bed that night, sleep eluded her. How could she rest when her heart was with the note she'd left upstairs?

Please, Ser Cullen, I must speak with you. I learned only today that it was you who saved me. My thanks are certainly in order, but I fear that they will not do my feelings justice penned here. If you are able, please get word to me when and where I could meet you. Thank you. For everything.

-S

A/N: Special thanks to Apollo Wings, Jaden Anderson, Eve Hawke, Melysande, FenZev, Marlene101, HereLies, Barbapapa, Miss Mahariel, RikaHara, Swooping is Bad, DanTheJogger 93, onion 926, Be and Wanna-Be, and Ilnethane. Enjoy!

-Kyla