Chapter 14: "Afraid"

Whispers. They surrounded her. None of them formed words she understood. Some were muttered, others shouted, but not one that reached her ears made sense. Her head pounded. It was like she'd been hit repeatedly over the head with the pommel of a sword. It confused her, made her wary of the whisper. They wouldn't stop. Why wouldn't they stop?

With a groan, Solona's hands came to her ears in an attempt to block out the sounds. Where were they coming from? Who was there? Had she done something to deserve this torture?

Yes, hissed a small voice at the back of her mind. She had killed people. Innocent people. Children even. Because the templars had demanded it.

Anders' face appeared in her mind. World weary Anders, with his dead-eyed gaze, dark circles forever etched into his pale skin. His unhealthy thinness, the way he shuffled back and forth to his desk, his hands running through dark blond hair. His tattered robes stirred up dust from the clinic floors. Anders had never truly forgiven her for what she'd done to the mages within the Circle. He despised the Tower, but he never wished harm on the innocents within.

You don't deserve his respect, his love. Your time in Ferelden proves that you did not honor your friendship.

Then there was Cullen, his blond curls messed from constantly grasping his head in frustration, worry marking his face, his bronze eyes glancing towards her without really seeing her. He wore his templar armour, the image mocking Solona with her sins.

The templar: strong, resilient, brave. The warriors of the Chantry. But you remember when he was none of these things. When he was just a young boy, afraid of the dark, afraid of a kiss.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. None of this mattered. They had all made mistakes, each and every one of them, but they had learned. They had grown. They were trying to become better people. Or at least, she was.

Her eyes closed. Beneath the darkness of her lids, a memory appeared, one that she did not wish to relive. It had been nearly a year since she'd seen Kinloch Hold, but she'd lived there nearly her entire life. She couldn't remember a time before the Tower, before templars and their cold gazes, before her friendship with Anders. All that her mind could remember, however, was a singular day where the Tower that she had felt a prisoner in truly became a prison.

"What?" Wynne asked, gripping tightly to the elm staff that she carried. "You told them you'd do what?"

Wynne had been like a confidante to Solona for her entire residency in Kinloch Hold. The elderly woman had been Anders' mentor in healing magic, Jowan's protector for years against the templars,and a mother to Solona when she'd needed one most. Now, Solona had the hardest decision to make. The woman in front of her might no longer be the woman she had looked up to. She could be a demon.

"I don't have a choice in this, Wynne." Solona said, begging with her eyes for the old woman to see reason. "There are demons loose in the Tower, abominations. Some of our old friends are blood mages and if we don't stop them-"

"So you'd kill innocents to be certain a single blood mage isn't left alive? Some of these mages you've grown up with, you consider family. Will you be able to look them in the eye before carrying out their execution?" Wynne asked, her expression never wavering. She was determined to protect the mages, even the blood mages, to the death if it was what she had to do.

"Fools! All of you!" Morrigan hissed from somewhere behind Solona. "These mages would kill you if given a chance! How can you defend them?"

"I have to believe there is a chance to save some of them." Wynne spoke calmly, assuredly, as if she knew what was going to happen and was prepared for it.

Solona felt her heart break. This was Wynne. How was she supposed to decide something like this? Sten, the Qunari warrior whom she had freed in Lothering, stepped up beside her, a stoic beast who was lending his strength to her cause. Morrigan, the witch from Korkari wilds, was on her other side, arms crossed over her chest. The only companion that had yet to speak was Zevran, the Antivan Crow. In a way, Solona knew what his thoughts probably were. He would follow the warden in whatever she did, without reservation. Solona liked having him at her side, even if he had tried to kill her at first.

"I'm sorry, Wynne." Solona said, feeling a little braver with these skilled fighters with her. "I cannot allow an abomination to live."

Wynne's eyes were sad for a moment as she glanced from Solona to Petra, one of the other mages who had escaped during the chaos. She prayed silently to the Maker that Wynne would stand down. But she knew the old woman. Wynne would never stand down if she could save someone.

Solona jolted awake, the memory forcing tears down her cheeks. What had she done?

A pair of strong arms pulled her into an embrace and Solona, uncaring of who held her in that moment, wrapped her shaking arms around the person and cried. Her body shook. She was a terrible person for doing that to people she'd shone, to a woman she'd loved. Their bodies, lifeless husks at her feet. Their blood flowing in rivers on the marble floors. The bottoms of her robes stained red with it. None of them had been possessed. None of them had been abominations.

She buried her face into the soft shirt of the person, clearly a man, holding her. The scent of lyrium coming from his skin was strong, but there was something else. Something that made her feel safe.

Cullen.

A hand found the back of her head before stroking her hair comfortingly. She allowed herself to lose control, safe in his arms. He was there with her, after everything she'd done, he was there. He trusted her, cared for her. He was still her friend.

Sniffing back the last of the tears, Solona lifted her head and met the golden gaze of her templar. His expression was concerned, but tender. Her stomach fluttered as if it were full of butterflies. She cleared her throat before wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, still running a hand over her hair. He didn't seem to notice that he hadn't stopped.

"Just a nightmare." She whispered, rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Cullen's presence was overwhelming and she wasn't sure how to take his sudden appearance. "Did- um, did Varric tell you what happened?"

"Yes. Varric and Keran."

Solona raised an eyebrow at the name, not recognizing it. "Keran?"

"Yes, the templar recruit you so valiantly saved." Cullen said, a smirk on his face as if he couldn't believe he'd said those words. "He couldn't stop talking about the amazing Hero of Ferelden who had saved him from evil blood mages."

Solona groaned, the sound sending a sharp pain through her temple. "Did he see… my other half?"

"The spirit?" Cullen asked, although he already knew what she was implying. "No. He had been unconscious for that part. Varric and Isabela, however, had questions. Lots of them."

"Of course they did." She shook her head and sighed. "What did you tell them?"

"The truth."

Solona stiffened. "The truth?"

"Yes, they had a right to know. You could have put them in danger when you took them to fight blood mages, but then, on top of that, you lost control, Solona. Justice could have killed them." Cullen took her hands into his, rubbing his thumbs along her knuckles, calming her.

The spirit protested this, but Solona ignored it. She had regained her control over it and refused to let it speak. It had already done enough damage for one day. Glancing away from him, guilt her dominant emotion, she said, "You're right, Cullen. If something had happened to them, I would have been responsible. I'm sorry."

"We've all done things we aren't proud of Solona." A hand came to her chin and forced her to meet his eyes. He looked at her with nothing but kindness, with understanding. "Wynne's death was not your fault."

"How did you-"

"You spoke her name while you slept." He traced the circles under her eyes with his thumb. "I have nightmares about the Circle too. The things Uldred and his demons did to me… I-" His voice broke, the pain of remembering on his face.

Solona wanted to kiss his hand, she wanted to find something to take the frown from his expression, but she didn't know how to. So instead, she reached out for his cheek, mimicking what he had done for her. It may not have looked like much, but for two broken people, it was enough to know that someone knew the pain inside of you, and that somehow, you'd overcome it together.