Thank you, Thank you, and Thank you for all the reviews!
I blame a certain reviewer for anything even remotely inappropriate with this chapter; Yes Coldblossom I'm talking about you. :D I have also come to the conclusion that there really is no way to make sex sound pretty; passionate, heated, and even all consuming…. But not pretty.
I own nothing, Rated M, Please enjoy.
I would like to take a moment to extend my gratitude to Nithu and Coldblossom for their suggestions and corrections. For those of you who really enjoy this chapter, you mostly have them to thank for it :D
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Please is a simple enough word, she supposed as she stared into the lust-darkened eyes of the templar whose normally intimidating frame was pressed intimately against hers. Her blood had slowly started to cool from the heat that had previously blazed a path from her heart to her loins. She should have never allowed the foolhardy situation to progress to this stage; but she had been exhausted from their travels and moreover from denying something she desperately wanted on some level. She had nervously wet her bottom lip by allowing the moist rose-colored muscle to dart out quickly. Solona watched as his eyes had dilated even more at the unintentional provocation she had provided. The young mage felt herself sway to the mounting feeling of carnal need that pooled between her thighs.
Was it truly so wrong to grasp what little happiness she could?
A tense breath stalled in her lungs as the templar's words resounded in her head, and the clear glint in his eyes told her that he was in truth within the bounds of his own mind once more. She could hear the beguiling song of her magic as it conveyed the indecision, want, and excitement that coursed through her body. She had never indulged in relations before. She was far too cautious to participate in that extensive activity while the cornerstone of her plans had lain in being unnoticeable, and unremarkable. That was not to say that she did not know what was entailed in the act of coitus or had not wanted to experience the sensations such an act provided. Solona knew that particulars with a vast knowledge that could only have been gleamed through the study of the human and elven bodies for the most basic of healing arts that she had a knowledge of. That extremely limited knowledge had been of good use when the templar had been injured.
The young mage knew what occurred in the dark crevices of the Circle Tower when the all too watchful eyes of the pious swordsmen were not boring holes into the very souls of the magical occupants. There had been occasions where she had unintentionally borne witness to the more amorous encounters; some were mages that had been notorious for their nighttime indulgences. Therefore, it was not fear of what would occur that gripped her in a bittersweet hold at the thought of fornication, but concern and solicitude at what the ramifications of granting the templar's soft spoken plea, would be. Solona had always listened and observed that was as much a part of her character as breathing for it was instinctive and wholly necessary to continued living. However, the consequence of hearing much in the Circle Tower had been hearing all of the horrific stories of mages who had been befallen by tragedies as a result of their copulations; which had brought the tremor filled pang of reason back from the haze of excogitation.
I want to say yes. Her mind sluggishly clambered as she had continued to stare at the man who had a scant few weeks ago been her hunter and captor. I could say yes. Solona reasoned within herself alongside the numerous self-indulgent excuses of 'The days we may live are finite'. It would be wrong for me, the only one of us who is in full control of their mental capabilities, to continue walking this dangerous path. Yet, her heart had already cried that is was forfeit to the duty-bound Chantry servant. He would never forgive himself afterward. Then again, Solona mused audaciously, he might not remember this at all; there is no possible way to determine the extent of the after-effects of the lyrium-withdrawal.
Was it truly so wrong to grasp what little happiness she could?
She was mage born. She was a woman that would never know true happiness for the chance at a perfectly average human life had been stripped from her years ago. Therefore, the young woman understood the likelihood that such an opportunity to have the one thing she desired would not come twice. Her mind covered the essence of what she knew for fact. The young mage knew that the templar would never hurt her unless he felt he had to and she could not fathom a circumstance where he would feel it necessary at the moment. Solona loved him, she knew she did, and if she did not over think the situation overmuch, she could pretend that he had a smidgen of care for her. She did trust him, had always trusted him, and perhaps, that could be enough?
Hazel eyes blinked once up at the carnal amber orbs and felt the pulse of his energy wrap around her magic in a licentious caress. The feel of his energy nibbling uncontrolled at her sorcery invoked a wanton moan from her still parted lips. Is it enough Solona? She had questioned one last time of herself and the subtle thrust of him against her muliebrity caused her to throw caution to the wind for sake of her accursed curiosity once more. It would be a shame to waste such an excellent opportunity to…ascertain in depth knowledge of the act. Her distended mind concluded soundly.
The young mage had drawn one more labored breath before offering up her body to the Templar in supplication. Her lips had sought his in a gentle concurrence of his plea. She trembled softly when a single large and rough male hand gripped her hip tightly to bring her closer to his masculinity. Solona felt the magic within her thrum to life once more. She could hear the desire fill the air around her and the push of her own magic was intoxicating to the normally stoic mage. This was not a game between them, nor a struggle for power, but as pure as unabashed need could be and it drove her to arch against his body in silent demand for more.
There was a feeling swelling inside her; it was primal, her want of him, and she intended to indulge it.
Her hands had a will of their own when it came to touching Cullen's body. They held tightly at his shoulders, skimmed his sides, and reached lastly to give one hesitant stroke over the cloth that covered him. A low hiss of approval greeted her shy touch and Solona broke their passionate kiss to stare up at him with questions held in the depths of her quotidian hazel eyes.
The templar moved slightly away from her prone form and a small noise of distress had slipped quickly out of the mage's mouth. She knew with certainty that the look in his burning amber orbs would be engraved in her thoughts for years to come as his hand had lightly gripped hers and guided it to rest over the cloth she had grazed. No words were spoken for none were needed. She was a cunning mage and ithad not taken her even one moment to understand what he wanted from her. Slowly, gently, and nearly reverently she stroked her hand over the bulge that protruded underneath his trousers. Her gaze went directly to his face to gauge his reaction to her touch. She had felt a primal sort of power at the way his eyes had firmly closed and how his face was awash in hunger that needed to be satiated.
Solona was not experienced and knew that she lacked the skills that some possessed at fornication, but she was adaptable even in the face of uncertainty. Her eyes never left his face as her other hand toyed with the laces on his pants and slowly reached inside until flesh found flesh. She watched with fascination as his eyes snapped open to stare at her while a guttural groan tumbled from his lips. She was encouraged when he made no move to stop her and the texture of his manhood underneath her hand caught her attention. She noted that he was smoother than she had imagined when faced with only illustrations of male anatomy to rely upon. The firmness, as well, intrigued her more curious nature and she lightly ran her fingertips from the base to the tip, marveling at the heat it exuded. Her thoughts momentarily turned to the crass jokes the Circle Mages had once made speculating about the templar's having 'Huge Swords'. Well, that would certainly make a great deal more sense. She granted quietly.
The young mage understood the workings of her body with precision even if his was uncharted territory. There had been time to explore the world of sensual delight in her extended incarceration of the Circle Tower. She was a curious woman and when faced with the numerous dalliances of other mages throughout the tower, she had pondered quite seriously over what the appeal to fornication was. Solona had found through self exploration that the act of stimulating one's self was gratifying and had left her only questioning if having a partner made the experience more so. She resolved to show him how her body should respond when touched correctly and then she would know the answer to her query.
She was pulled from her musings when the pull of her robe forced her attention back to the wandering hands of the templar. He was, she noted, attempting to undo the tiny buttons on her robe to expose her chest. She knew his fingers were too large to correctly grasp them when he cursed softly under his breath. Solona quirked her lips in a sweet smile at the endearing way he flushed in frustration at being thwarted by clothing. Amber eyes bored into her and he was silent for a moment; she understood he was contemplating something and her eye widened in shock when he grasped both sides of her robe and quickly ripped it in twain.
There was a feeling swelling inside her; it was primal, her want of him, and she intended to indulge it.
She had furrowed her brow when his hand rested on hers to stop its motions. "Not yet." He said through gritted teeth and she wondered mildly what he had been referring too. She had little time to wonder as his hands trailed up the length of her legs, nudging the hem of her robe up as he went. Solona saw his face was full of emotions she had never seen him display while in possession of his true self. The young mage willingly offered her body up to the templar whose face had been painted in desire and an odd sort of tenderness she could not place. Then his lips where trailing a path down her neck and to the valley of her breasts and Solona could not have stopped the keening gasp that resulted. She arched into his mouth as it latched upon the delicate nub at the tip of her breast and she was surprised by the flicking of his tongue against it. The sensation of moist heat over her sensitive buds was an exquisite contrast to her own fingers which had long ago memorized ever stroke or pinch needed to bring her to the physical peak of completion. Solona had blossomed in nights at the tower where seclusion was hard to find but entirely rewarding and she intended to show the templar that.
Her hands sought out his hair and she curled her fingers into it as she had squeezed her eyes shut against the wave of heat that grew inside her. Solona could feel the pleasant tingling within the core of her femininity as his ministrations. There were things about this that she still could not understand, but the intensity of their touches seemed heightened by the way their talents entwined in an equally provocative dance. She knew she wanted something, but her lack of education in this area left her drawing no conclusions as to what that something was. The young mage parted her legs wider to accommodate the templar as his attention shifted to the breast with equal dedication. Solona was desperately trying to tamp down the song of her magic which was growing louder as his hands played her body as if she were a musical instrument. Her magic had matched the salacious way he wrung the moans from her nearly untouched body; pitch for pitch and she was struck with the understanding that Cullen might not be the only templar present in Ostagar. The young mage concentrated on feeling the sensation and not allowing it to manifest in her mystical ability; which did not stop the fire that raced in her veins.
There was a feeling swelling inside her; it was primal, her want of him, and she intended to indulge it.
OoOoOo
He had thought many things about the Mage Amell. He had thought of her as an abomination, cunning to a fault, deplorable, and confusing. He had never thought of her has an enchantress until the moment he had watched her need of him burn brightly in her eyes. There had been an aspect of her gaze that nearly compelled him to act without reason. He could hear the seductive song of her magic resound in his templar senses; the feel of her as she surrounded him was unparalleled. Cullen could have believed in every heartbeat he had touched her, that she was more necessary than lyrium at the taste of her soft lips. 'If this is a sin Maker, then I pray you will forgive me, for I cannot stop,' he fervently admitted.
The feeling of her underneath him was glorious.
The templar understood what drove him forward in his frenzy; there was no look of indifference upon her face when he touched her. He knew her reactions were honest and they created an intense feeling of desire to pulse through him. He could hear it and taste it in her magic. Her moans, he thought, feeling half drugged by her responses, could rival the first long pulls on the magical draught of lyrium with how she left him disoriented in a pure titillation. There was an odd sort of masculine pride that radiated from him at knowing, at least like this, she could never hide from him.
It twisted all of his moral views, what they were doing, but templar Cullen found himself at a loss for the disgust he should have been feeling that had been strangely absent from the first caress. The Chantry had been perfectly clear, in all his years of staunch religious training, about soiling oneself with sins of the flesh and it was doubly damning for Cullen to enjoy the pleasures this mage could provide. He should never have even been tempted into such a debauched act, but instead of crushing anger all he felt, rather unashamedly, was an intense need to possess the woman beneath him who stared at him with such endless pools of hazel. There was sense of urgency to rush headlong into the gratification he knew would be waiting in her soft body, lest she change her mind or he changed his. The mist of the madness that swirled around his thoughts was strangely quiet as he tasted her mouth and skin.
Wickedly, he had felt even more aroused by the way she arched into his touches and silently begged for more. Sometimes, not so silently. The baser part of him was faintlyamused, and yet so bewitched by way their bodies eagerly yearned to touch one another. He was finding glory in their embrace and it startled him slightly, but nothing would off put him from this one moment of self-indulgence where no other souls beyond theirs would bear witness to the deed. Parts of him quibbled softly but fell to the way side at the overwhelming surge of human instinct at their position and her willingness to submit to his carnal need.
He had hated appearing weak in her eyes when he had all but groveled for her permission to continue but now, when faced with the reward of what swallowing the shreds of his pride could yield, he was almost pleased with the exchange. The man halted as her hands grasped his lightly and brought them to rest over the engorged areas of her body that needed his attention. Hesitation lightened his touches as he waited with baited breath to gauge how her moaning increased in volume to the ministrations. Cullen decided that he could no longer wait for his partner to free him from the constraints of his pants and chose to do the deed himself. His hands skimmed over her flesh one more time before returning to his own trousers while his lips had captured hers in another searing kiss that had threatened to leave them both breathless. His mind was not aware of much conscious thought for he felt as if her magic had taken if from him. His caresses had grown firmer and more demanding. Logic and protocol had fled him; Chantry dictation could not be recalled and the crazed whispers in his fractured psyche only encouraged him to continue, to do more with her. The feeling of her underneath him was glorious
The templar understood that there would be repercussions for what they would engage in. Part of him feared what would come but the deeper part of him, comprised of all that he had shared with Mage Amell, was more worried over what would happen if she was ever brought before the Chantry for justice. 'Though I suppose that Solona would be the more appropriate name to call her now.' This was a time where affection can transcend true reason and he wondered if this had not been part of her plotting all along. However, try as he might, he could not bring himself to care about her scheming as much as her welfare. He was wrought with confliction over the prospect of losing her to the everlasting hold of death. Templar Cullen knew the punishments for all infractions of Chantry law, and there was only one verdict awaiting the woman the twisted lustfully in his arms. He forced the rational aside to gaze on her face again and saw her reciprocated trepidation combined with need.
Movements that had been enacted out of instinct and subconscious understanding compelled his limbs. Cullen had been too caught up in the expression on his suppliant's features to truly comprehend how they ended up sans even a stitch of clothing. Perhaps, I am not as unaffected in this moment as I would wish. Templar Cullen had not, until recently, wanted the apostate. His unyielding templar code that had been ingrained into his very soul had been repulsed at the growing strings of care that tied him to the Mage. Cullen, as a man who could feel and understand that attachment to another truly defied all logical reasoning, wanted more than just her body for one stolen evening of passion. Cullen, the man underneath the Templar, had been given a few insane delusions to lives that had her in them. He cherished some of the forged memories of what his life might have been had they been born as different people. Stop. He commanded of his vainly wistful thoughts. 'All that is possible now, is this night. This is the moment where we will both find comfort in the arms of each other'.
As long as he lived, whether he understood the memory he would make or not as the lyrium rotted his mind from the inside out, he would cherish the night he had spent wrapped in her embrace. He would treasure the sound of her song and the brightness of her eyes. Cullen knew he would remember the bewitching perfume of her skin and the softness of her lips. He would never forget the night that she had been his.
The feeling of her underneath him was glorious
Gingerly, he nudged her parted thighs slightly wider and lowered his manhood to her opening. A heartbeat of thrilled anticipation burned in his throat. However, before he would allow himself to continue he had to be certain she wanted this; that she understood what he needed of her. There had been a compatible lust-filled silence that neither of them had been willing to break, but Cullen simply had to know that he was not forcing himself upon her.
His gaze locked with her ordinary hazel eyes so full of longing and he held fast. His breaths were ragged and unsure as he waited with barely suppressed hunger. Her soft lips quivered under his gaze, he noticed, and she tipped her head forward in the slightest hint of a nod. A primal cry of relief ripped from his throat as he swiftly plunged into her slickened core. Cullen understood that the act of coupling could be painful for a female if done incorrectly and he still himself; his amber eyes had never left her face.
OoOoOo
It had been swift and it had stung, she cogitated to herself. Rather like a pinch in the very last place I would want one. As a mage she was exceedingly used to discomfort and agony, she had found his intrusion to be more on the former than the latter. The young mage had not faltered the reign upon her magic that had continued to croon the headiness of her lust. Solona knew her body could and would adjust. Her patience had worn thin from the exquisite heat he had stoked.
Ageless knowledge, awoken by the animalistic eagerness at being taken, commanded her to wrap her trembling legs around his waist and hold tight to the ephemeral time between them. It had been a silent approval that she was ready or anxious for the templar to proceed. Solona closed her eyes to the first stirring sensations of him within her. She was aware of the warm breeze his panting created across the span of her skin. The young mage had not found it overly pleasurable nor disagreeable, but had found herself focused only on the fell of his energy as it devoured her magic hungrily.
It was raw and powerful, the dance they had entered.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck and clung to him with sheer abandon as her arms snaked over his shoulders for a better purchase. She could not find a rhythm to match his erratically timed thrusts, but she had tried all the same to meet him with each push of their hips. The pulsing around them was jarring and she felt the air crackle when their talents had meshed tighter than their bodies. Everywhere. Her lust laden mind chanted. He is everywhere; inside and outside. I can feel him. The way in which he invaded every intimate part of her was terrifying in its candor. Solona had felt exposed even though she was covered from head to toe in the warm skin of her hunter. He is a hunter and I am the prey. The sordid thought sent a spike of desire to her core and she had unintentionally tightened around him, which in turn had caused him to moan.
Feelings she could not fully understand bloomed in the wake of his touches and gentleness between them. She noted that he was equally inexperienced and it had soothed the latent worries of inadequacy that slithered quietly like a snake in her thoughts. Her teeth nibbled lightly at the skin covering his collar bone and she grinned slightly when his thrusts turned harder at her interaction. A glaring mockery to the ideal that mages and templars could only hate the one another was their copulation, and still Solona could not contain the building sensation of rapture their coupling provoked. It was not physical, she understood that her body received only enough stimulation to be tolerable given their naiveté in the act, but in her mind the combined talents had flooded her senses to near overload.
It was raw and powerful, the dance they had entered.
The young mage pushed her magic into his body and reveled in the tremors that racked his frame. She watched with fascination the way his lips stretched into a near snarl and how he became more forceful. She wondered idly if it was a warning to mind her role in their blasphemous attachment. Solona could not think to her satisfaction as she bucked underneath him and clawed hotly at his back. She noted that even though growls and moans filled the air, not a single word had been spoken.
"Excuse me?" A rough and yet timid voice called from outside of the tent. Her thoughts immediately had snapped back into the world of rational thinking and self-preservation. Solona clamped her hand over Cullen's mouth and shifted her gaze to the silhouette that had been cast over the tent's entrance,
She closed her eyes for a breath and focused her thoughts away from the tingling in her femininity. "Yes?" Her voice had only carried the slightest note of huskiness and to an untrained ear would convey nothing.
She felt Cullen's breath ghost over her fingers and she worried that he might regret their copulation for it had been interrupted prior to completion. Solona narrowed her eyes at the calmness and reserve overtaking his heated features. I will have this. Her mind hissed at the thought of losing some precious chance. The young mage nudged her hips to meet his and wriggled until the glazed look overcame his face once more. She had been forced to bite her lip and hold it between the unforgiving hardness of her teeth when he had reflexively thrust back into her.
"Um. Ah." The male voice had continued outside the thin canvas that separated them from the cruelty of the outside world. "I'm sorry, am I interrupting something?" Solona had a hard time concentrating on the uncertainty in the interloper's tone.
"Slightly." She dispassionately stated, but her face was twisted with ebullience. "My husband is sleeping, and I do not wish to wake him. Unfortunately I am in a state of undress and cannot come out to speak with you. What did you require?" She watched her hunter nip at her hand as his breaths had grown increasingly labored. Solona felt his energy prompt her that he was nearing the end of his endurance as it was saturated with delight.
"Oh. Um, well this may sound a bit…odd… I mean, I'm sure it's odd to be disturbed by some strange man you've never met. Not that I am strange. Oh Maker, what I meant to ask is that I thought I sensed magic coming from this tent. Are you both alright?" She had not failed to register the undercurrent of suspicion in the unknown man's voicethat bombarded her suddenly immobile heart.
Solona continued her movements underneath Cullen and she fought the urge to silence her magic entirely. If I do that now, it will only confirm his suspicions. "Magic?" Her tone was falsely incredulous and she stared into the somber eyes of her templar as she felt panic claw from within her. The young mage was mystified as to why the danger of the situation only served to the intensity of the sensations the onslaught of stimulation provided. A primal part of her urged her to finish what had been started for she understood instinctively that there would not be another chance. Worried that he might withdraw, Solona clamped her legs tighter around Cullen's waist to prevent him from escaping. "That is an odd question. I do not know why you would…oh! I do have a few enchanted items in my possession. Could that be the source?" The lie flowed easily from her with little effort.
"Enchanted items?" The man questioned seriously. "Were you using an enchanted item Ma'am?"
Solona wracked her rather burdened mind for some feasible excuse to feed the interloper. "Yes, you see I was trying to cool some of the water in my water skin by dipping a blade that has a Cold rune etched in it, in the water. It does not appear to have worked though." She could have sworn she heard a snort of dry amusement escape Cullen before he buried his head in her neck and nipped at her shoulder warningly. Solona responded in kind by nibbling on the sensitive flesh of his earlobe and watched as he shuddered soflty.
"Cooling water?"The intruder reiterated with relief apparent in his tone. "I am so sorry. Forgive me for interrupting you. Should you require anything, anything at all please do not hesitate to find me." His pleasant demeanor permeated the small space of the tent and Solona wanted dearly to cast a lightning spell on the most sensitive parts of the intruder's anatomy. She understood that she could not carry out with that deserved punishment for it would alert every person in Ostagar and her other Hunters to their location.
"And you are?" Solona marveled at the silence of the templar above her as he ground tightly against her and stilled. The young mage watched his head come up and his gaze latch onto hers as he rode the waves of his peak. She memorized the way his face contorted in ecstasy and she gripped him fiercely in an embrace. Her hands tenderly stroked his back and she place a single chaste kiss on his sweat slickened temple. Her eyes closed and she had contented herself to listening to ragged breathing of her lover.
"Oh, I'm Alistair, a Grey Warden at your service." She heard the sheepishness in his tone and cursed her luck at another templar being in the vicinity of Ostagar; the likelihood had seemed astronomical, and yet, here he was nearly destroying the only time she would be able to know her companion intimately.
"Well met, Alistair. I will let my husband know when he awakens. If you will excuse me, I am rather tired myself." Solona focused on the tone of her voice to manipulate the pitch to reflect exhaustion.
"Of course, rest well." The unknown templar bid and she counted the echoes of his foot falls as he wandered away.
She watched her momentary lover pull away from her. Amber and hazel clashed in mute understanding of what had transpired between them. Solona knew that shame and guilt would later surround them both in a thick veil of confliction. Silence stretched a vast hand between them as she sought out a spare set of clothes. She was forced to make do with men's attire, but it could not have been helped due to the deplorable state of her robe. Her magic had receded back from his energy and the last tendril of their mutual connection broke. Her face slipped into the comforting mask of indifference once more and Solona hurried to make it to the market place before Cullen could think to stop her. It was raw and powerful, the dance they had entered. She watched his expressionless face stare at her and they both recognized what would have to happen next. There were so many things she wanted to tell him. So many things she had always wished to express that now hung around her neck acting as a loadstone to her nearly desperation driven body.
Her chin tilted up in defiance and she quickly left the tent, still clutching the torn remnants of her old robe. She knew time was of the essence and all of her coins were safely held in the sewn-in pouches of her hem. Solona understood that she would not have very long before his templar training overrode any small modicum of affection or intimacy that had passed between them. Nimble hands that shook slightly tore a scrap of material from the robe and tied her hair back to alter her appearance. The young mage recoiled at the knowledge that she was bolting after such a rule-shattering moment, but she could not remain in the custody of a man that would surely turn her over to the Chantry.
She changed how she carried her body and assumed a posture more unnoticeable as she wove through the market as quiet as a mouse. Her steps drew her toward the nearest quartermaster whose balding head glinted in the glow of the afternoon sun. Solona could hear the sounds of mabari as they yipped and growled nearby. Tears threatened to fall but she held them back with an iron will. She was an average woman running for her life. Solona stopped in front of a merchant's wares and through glib talk combined with distraction she purchased or stole the absolute necessities. The apostate moved to a less occupied area and made certain to keep her eyes constantly wandering to detect familiar faces. Among her goods was a single dagger that she wasted no time in utilizing as she grabbed at the ponytail holding her hair and chopped off her long locks. She would mourn the loss of the man she loved she knew with certainty and cast the ordinary brown locks to the ground.
She knew the instant the cry of alarm over her disappearance rendered the air and soldiers were shifting through the market area stopping every female in sight. Hurriedly, she grabbed for the remaining coins in her possession and stuffed the mangled robe behind the back end of a stall. Her quotidian hazel eyes scanned the immediate area and her mind feverishly worked to locate her nearest escape route. She came to the see past the kennels to the wooden gate that barred Ostagar from the unrelenting wilderness of the Kocari Wilds. It is less than ideal, but more appealing than being executed.
Deftly, she forced her pace to be unhurried and her face free of the worry which permeated every conscious thought she had. She subtlety gripped her new pack with her meager supplies tighter and approached the lone guard with a black mabari at his side. Solona knew that coaxing the guard would get her nothing. She understood that military men responded to rank and command over anything else.
"I'm sorry, but I am under strict orders not to allow anyone to pass." The deep timber of his voice startled her slightly and she concentrated on keeping the desperation out of her tone.
"You dare to block my way?" Her tone was chillier than winter's grasp and she drew herself up to her full height to create a more intimidating presence. "I am under strict orders from the Warden Commander Duncan himself." Solona confidently hissed out at the stunned guard. The war hound had whimpered at the thunderous look on her face.
"The W-warden Commander?" She watched the man tremble slightly at her words and noted that he seemed to be more duty bound than she would have liked. "I'm sorry, miss. B-But I don't have any orders to let you through."
"You are very unwise to anger a rogue." Thin fingers wrapped around the hilt of her dagger and she brandished it menacingly. "I will let the Grey Warden Commander know that you were too incompetent to let me through."
"Duly noted." An amused male voice rumbled from directly behind her. Dread pooled in her limbs at the instant recognition that the Warden in question was already there. She slowly turned to gaze at the face of the man she felt would be her executioner. "Are you already going back to Jader?" She scrutinized his seemingly friendly eyes with distaste for what she perceived to be a jest at her expense.
"Not precisely." Solona stated void of emotion and crawled back into the familiar arms of apathy. Her hazel eyes met his hard brown ones without flinching. She felt unease at the way his gaze actually seemed to penetrate her indifference.
She winced internally at the small noise the Warden made in the back of his throat. "Open the gate." He quietly commanded and turned to look at the guard. "Unless, of course, you prefer to dig the waste pits?"
"No!" The man gasped in horror at the mild threat to his station, Solona nearly took a breath of relief. "I-I mean right away Sir." She watched dispassionately as the plated man scrambled to do The Warden's bidding. She felt as if the mabari was observing her too closely when it gently sniffed the air. Her magic was dampened sufficiently, she knew, when the hound failed to detect the blatant lie she had told. The young mage had not been certain that the dog could have been fooled and so it had been a dangerous gamble on her part.
"You would be welcomed amongst the ranks of the Grey Wardens." Duncan pulled her from her worries with her countenance weakened under what he offered quietly and she shook her head in remorse.
"I could not trade one cage for another. To be at the beck and call of the Chantry or even the prestigious Grey Wardens, I would still be denied my freedom." Her voice was laden with sorrow and determination. She knew he understood her meaning by the way of the small smile he gave her. Solona was not a warrior, she was a mage who only wanted the chance to live a normal life. She was resolute in the goal of being just another face in Thedas. She did not long for glory or battle as others did.
She could feel the pressing of unknown templar energy at her back and she strode forward through the now opened gate without looking back. It must be that Alistair fellow. She thought irately at the sub-optimal way in which she was forced to flee back out into Fereldan. The young mage did not hesitate to break out into a run when she heard the creaking of the wood as the gate closed once more. Solona knew that the war hounds would be released to find her shortly, despite the brief head start the Warden Commander had given her, and she would need to venture out into the uncharted areas to avoid capture.
'Death or death' she had thought with grimness as the shouts of soldiers echoed deafeningly in her ears. The cry of panic could not drown out the pitiful wailing of her despair. Solona was leaving behind the only being in all of Thedas that mattered to her. For a single moment in time between her ragged breathing and the pain that bordered the brink of exhaustion, she heard the tinkling sound of her heart shattering.