Dear Readers,
Thank you for all of your time spent in reading this fiction as well as reviewing. I hope that I can continue to do this concept justice. That being said, please not that there are dark and mature themes. This author does not condone nor promote rape, force, violence, coercion, or any other such things.
Rated M.
I own nothing. :)
OoOoOo
Solona stood, bleary eyed and only half-conscious, as the sheer tiredness she felt threatened to overwhelm her. Yet, she attempted to shrug it off so that she could focus on Surana who was staring with wide eyes back at Petra, the First Enchanter. The fear in the apprentice's eyes was nearly tangible and every sister mage was given a steep reminder of the times when they had been called to wade the same dangers as Surana would now face.
And, face them she must.
Solona clenched her jaw as a fresh wave of pain assaulted her tender state of hormonal vulnerability. Her harrowing had been nothing short of mentally scaring. She closed her eyes against the memory of Wynne's still body. Twice. In her memory the ashen face and wide eyes of Wynne were etched into the deepest caverns of her heart.
The denounced mage shifted, her robe brushing the tops of her boots. Due to her condition, the heavily pregnant woman was asked to do nothing except lend the song of her magic. Her sister mages moved about her without word as Solona placed a delicate hand on her midsection. The babe under her heart must have been in slumber, for it did not kick. Likely, her unborn child had been lulled to sleep by the swaying movement of her steps as she had trudged to this bleak room.
The room that held no carpets, and very little adornments due to what might happen. As well as the unfortunate things that had happened in the past.
The Knight Commander was not far off, nor where his nearly endless sea of Templars that watched the handful of true mages, and the trembling apprentice as she prepared to enter the Fade. This test would mean the difference between life and death. In more than one sense. Part of Solona dearly hoped that Surana would not be tempted by the insidious trickery that the Demons offered.
Another part of her, the same part that all mages possessed nearly wished that the apprentice failed so as not to be doomed to this fate for all of her remaining life. Was that discourteous or an unkindness? Solona did not even dare to fathom truly what it meant in the eyes of a being like The Maker. If such a being truly existed.
That too was an unknown. Though in the nights spent with tear-filled eyes, pleading with any higher being -with the exception of demons- that no Templar found himself unable to control his lust, Solona often wondered what eternal fate truly awaited a mage.
Given the lack of mercy in her life, she could scarcely do more than assume there would be none found upon her death.
Yet, as she watched the stricken look of panic on her apprentice's face, Solona sent a silent prayer to an unseeing Deity that perhaps; if only once, there was the possibility of good fortune to a mage.
Solona tried to keep all of her focus on Surana. A show of good faith and support in a room where so many lives had ended by choice or by fate. The blood of countless mage brothers and sisters had painted the cold stone floors in a wash of crimson blood for years untold. Since the beginning of the Circle of Magi, perhaps. Or when Andraste stood proudly beside the same mages her religious ilk would lock away.
The soft shuffle of fabric as the mages went about preparing the lyrium solution that would place Surana into a waking-fade dream.
Petra instructed Surana to approach the pedestal where the Lyrium sat in a glowing pool of azure that in any light was a powerful draw to the mages. There was fear in the room, from the other mages as well as the Templars. How could there not have been? Even Solona had grown to fear her, to a certain extent, after the madness of Uldred and the havoc he had reigned upon the Circle.
Solona tamped down on the tension and frustration that built under her skin. Her emotions simmered near the surface and such a luxury was dangerous normally. However, being here and readying to open the veil with her fellow mages was extremely volatile. She could no more endanger them by her tumultuous feelings than she would cut off her own arm in a fit of pique.
Her hazel eyes trailed across the room, noting the varied expressions of forced calm on the other faces in the room. Surana's was the most notable. The corner's of Solona's mouth softened into a reassuring smile. It was faint and only there for a moment, however it was enough for the Elvin mage to relax considerably.
Solona felt eyes upon her, her hazel gaze lifted slowly to clash with deep amber orbs. Ser Cullen, the Knight-Commander stood tall with the symbol of Andraste emblazoned across his armor. It served as a steep reminder to the woman pregnant with his child, that they were truly worlds apart. Whatever tender feelings, small and barely founded, that had been between them flushed through her chest again.
There was a strained sort of air between the pair as they breifly stared at one another. Solona broke her gaze away and lowered it.
"We shall begin," Petra's voice held a tiny tremor of uncertainty. The other mages kindly ignored it. There was no turning back or avoiding the Harrowing. They all knew that with the same certainty of any living creature that needed to draw breath to exist.
It was time.
Solona's arms moved in a fluid motion, as the tips of her fingers glowed. The song of her magic cascaded forward in to join the harmony of the handful of mages in the room. It would have been standard for the First Enchanter to merely watch over the proceedings without lending her power to the ritual. However, the number of mages was insufficient without Petra joining in on the near symphony of songs that melded, joined, and pulled the veil apart enough to allow Surana through.
Her song was softer than some of the others, but Solona could hear it keenly enough. As she knew the Templars could hear the songs of magic, yet not understand the meanings as a mage did. Surana touched the Lyrium and Solona could only sense through clouded eyes that the apprentice had entered the fade.
Solona felt the tell-tale shift in the world around them. The clamors and lingering whispers of the demons was something that they had all learned to drown out. However, that did not mean they were left completely alone. Though the Harrowing was a controlled form of their magic expression, it would have been a lie to call it safe. Opening the veil at any point held risks that could cost a life. They were all painfully aware of that fact.
The Templars in the room were already on guard. Her ears vaguely recognized the sound of their armor clinking against the stone. Solona could feel a presence at her back, but she kept pouring her song, melding it in pitch and harmony to the others, to hold the opening and prevent something from coming through that was not meant to walk upon the mortal realm.
Though she could not see it, Solona heard the hiss of steel as the swords were pulled from their scabbards. Her hazel eyes were clouded with her magic, swirling in the depths as it obscured her sight. It was, perhaps sadly, better that she was unable to focus on the Templar that had a sword to her back. Or to see the other Templars pointing their weapons at her sister mages; ready to run them through should they give into the sickly promises of a demon.
The tower was infamous for preparing mages to know the heavy feeling of their lives hanging on by a thin thread of rules and circumstance. Solona felt her heart clench with worry over her apprentice. She had known Surana for a time now, and as did often happen in the tower; she had come to care for her charge. No amount of wishing or magic would change the course of fate that had been set into motion.
Slowly, she shook herself from the foolish thoughts that would only wound her later if the worse came to pass. Not that such things were unexpected in their pitiful existence as victims of birth and opportunity. They were not blinded to their unique nature, even as they suffered because of it.
Time passed for the mages and Templars that stood in their respective roles. Like lambs standing at the brink of the butcher's block, they were exposed. Their hearts would be run through at even the slightest hints of violence or taint of demonic origin.
Solona felt her reserves and strength draining away under the constant use of her talent. Something she had not been permitted to use in what seemed like ages. It also did not help her that the young one in her womb took much from her body to grow. It was simply nature, but Solona found herself increasingly grateful for the tiny life that she had originally been in stark horror of. It was a strange feeling, to have something to cling to that even if they were doomed to part upon it's birth, would be wholly hers.
Hers and the Ser Cullen's, her thoughts reminded her with a nearly sinister quality about them. Solona felt icy fear course through her veins, pooling in the pit of her stomach as her unease rose several levels. The mage forced the thought at bay.
Damned Demons. Always plying where they were unwanted. She would allow no harm to come to her child.
You could keep the babe.
A seductive voice echoed through her thoughts with a hotness rivaling a fever. Solona shrugged it off, reinforcing her will against the temptation. It was a simple matter to identify the coaxing as that of a desire demon. If the demon was present, it would tempt the others. Solona pitched her song low, a warning to the other mages that something had been attracted from the fade, not drawn toward the apprentice.
The melody was unbroken, but it shifted in complexity and pitch, as her sister mages braced themselves to stave off the scavenger that had been attracted from beyond the veil.
Solona could hear the Templars shift. Their armor clinking in near perfect unison. It might have been considered impressive by those that were given to regimens and battle. She possessed no such love of their appointed 'guardians'. The ones that held the swords at their backs, ready to slay without hesitation. The tip of a blade pressed into her back.
She knew that this was merely the protocol. The precaution against her kind. As if she would give in so freely to the empty promises of a demon. Solona could not find too much fault in their caution. Her heart clenched as she remembered the insane words of Uldred. There were those that had willingly traded their lives and those of other innocents for the very same empty promises that were proffered here in this room.
Her body was too preoccupied to even flinch. Solona could not allow her resolve to falter.
I can help you escape this.
No, the demon could not. It would take her over or destroy her and wear her body as a husk. Each option was equally revolting to the mage.
The symphony of magic cascaded around Solona as she kept her song low, signaling to the others that the Demon had yet to leave.
She was wholly unprepared for the sudden backlash and Surana's growing song. The apprentice was surfacing back out of the fade. Solona's clouded eyes closed briefly, summoning forward the strength to push forward.
Solona fought against the pushing force of the veil as it attempted to remain open. The demon was stalling for time, not wishing the chance to escape to be closed.
There was a surge of a song, wrong sounding and sickly. It was as if it were an a strained lingering sour note that caused Solona to feel the horrid but familiar sting of panic. She tried to taper off the song, as the other mages desperately attempted the same. It was futile. The overwhelming sense of fear and bitter understanding washed over her as power erupted from the center of their magic circle.
Surana... had failed.
Solona heard the Templars move. Her vision slowly cleared as she pushed her magic back down. There were shouts, and her hazel eyes widened in fear as she caught sight of the billowing flames that greedily licked their way toward her.
She made a move to step back as the Rage demon that had once been her apprentice took a large swipe at the nearest armored man and sent him flying.
Surana, she thought with a sense of sadness as tears prickled the corner of her eyes.
Almost as if it had heard her, though Solona was posing no threat, the demon locked its inky black and soulless eyes on her.
She instinctively wrapped a protective arm around her bulging midsection, and attempted to stave it off with a glyph of repulsion. Hazel eyes clouded and swirled with a burst of maternal concern and fury. Her magical strength was all but gone, taken for the Harrowing that had proved to be a disaster.
However, she knew down to the very marrow in her bones that the Rage demon had caught sight of her, and that meant she was in extreme danger. Solona felt her magic surge, complying with the will of its mistress to keep her unborn child safe. Her song exploded around her, like a loud shout of pure denial.
Darkness fell in front of her, from what little of the world she could make out from behind the murkiness caused by the use of her talent.
The pull of a Templar's energy alerted her panicked mind to the fact that someone was using the flood of her song to strengthen their abilities. The darkened blur in front of her was the armor of an unknown Templar. The one that had been at her back, perhaps?
There was a hissing shout from the Demon, who had taken exception to the Templar blocking it's path as several others hacked away at the solid form it had possessed. Solona stood frozen, her brows furrowed as she glared a challenge to the demon she could no longer see. The threat that still lingered in the room. Her magic was taken in a large but fast pull. She lent it to him willingly, as her ears thundered with the rushing blood of her furiously beating heart. Solona could only numbly recognize the sounds of her sister mage's songs filling the air.
Her breath came out in short pants until she forced herself to breathe deeply and think rationally. IF she fell only into blind panic, she would not be able to defend the babe.
The darkness of the armor in front of her moved. Solona stood in tense silence, prepared to use spells from the elemental magic she'd never quiet grasped. If it allowed her to keep her child safe, she'd risk magical exhaustion gladly.
There was a terrifying sound of men shouting, voices she did not recognize and some that she did. The hissing of the demon, the heat of the fire and the cries of rage.
All of it fell into a silence. Wonderful and terrifying silence that caused her to be concerned in equal measure.
One by one, the songs faded and Solona clutched at her protruding middle even more tightly. Did they stop because of death, or was it safe?
The clinking of the Templar armor, and the mutters of relief told her the truth. Solona tamped down on her magic, as she waited with some misgiving and fear over what she would see when her vision returned to its normal clarity.
How many dead would she see this time? How many of those she'd been lashed to protect would be lifeless on the stone floor where countless mages had fallen to the afterlife?
She shuddered.
Solona closed her eyes, and took a calming breath. She had to remain calm, even as her heart continued to hammer in her chest. The stress would be even more taxing on her body. She feared that it would effect the babe.
She opened her eyes, and gasped softly. In the center of the room were three dead. A mage and two templars, not including Surana who had fallen to demonic temptation.
There was an overwhelming feeling of bitter resentment that flooded the pregnant mage. Not at the Templars, nor at the apprentice. Solona resented herself. She had not warned Surana enough to keep her from becoming that Thing.
Saurana, she thought with pure anguish, Forgive me.
She was given precious little time to dwell upon the death of her apprentice. Solona wiped the tears that stung her eyes, her arm trembled as she sought to still protect her child even though the threat had now passed.
Ser Cullen stood before her, his amber orbs blazing with fury and contempt. Solona's lower lip trembled and she blamed her condition for making her feel so very small and afraid.
"You could have been killed," he hissed with his anger lacing his words so strongly that she flinched away.
She knew that. However, she had honestly thought that Surana would never have fallen to temptation.
Numbly, and with great hesitation, Solona slowly nodded.
"And you," He snarled, turning toward Petra with unbridled distain clear on his features. "You permitted a pregnant mage to attend a Harrowing?"
Petra jumped slightly at the undercurrent of menace in his tone.
"Knight-Commander," she replied with deference, "as I said before, we required the help of Mage Amell's magic. The Harrowing could not have been done other-"
"Enough!" He roared, causing all the mages to flinch and the Templars to stand straighter. "You will see to the mages."
Ser Cullen pointed to Petra and she nodded stiffly. He turned his attention toward the nearest Templar and snarled.
"You clean up this mess, and dispose of the Lyrium properly."
"Yes, Ser." The nameless Templar said quickly.
Ser Cullen's amber orbs snapped toward Solona as she tried to calm her racing heart, realizing just how close she had been to losing her child. Their child.
"And you will come with me," he said with his fury still evident but somewhat softened.
She looked up at him with wide hazel eyes as his armored hand closed around her wrist, brushing against her swollen belly gently; as if he'd taken care not to jar her. He pulled her, firmly but not harshly, out into the hall.
Solona turned her head, her confused gaze landed on Petra who looked ill at ease and concerned. However, it was not the First Enchanter's place to contradict the Knight-Commander, especially in front of his men. That would be as close to suicidal as a mage could come, without actually trying to end their life on purpose.
Ser Cullen led her a little way down the hall, toward a nearly vacant area of the infirmary.
He was breathing heavily, his face was hard and his eyes were bright with emotions too numerous for Solona to name. Her lips parted as he glared heatedly at the nearby Templar that quietly backed out of the room. It left her alone with her former Protector in silence.
He took a deep breath, and Solona said nary a word as he pulled off his gauntlet. She watched quietly, with wide eyes as he flattened his hand out against her stomach. He intently stared at her midsection, as if willing their child to prove it was well.
Solona understood, and a soft sort of emotion seeped into her body, leeching away the chill of the fear and uncertainty of before.
"I was unharmed," she said gently, "Knight-Commander."
She blushed, her cheeks warmed strangely at being so close to him. There was a sort of discomfort that she could not place a name to. The mage looked downward, not understanding what there was to say in a situation like this. She dared not risk his wrath openly.
Solona jumped slightly, when his warm hand moved from her stomach to cup her cheek. Her eyes locked with his and her breath caught in her throat. That same look was in his eyes, the one that Greagoir had always given to Wynne.
"Never," he whispered with an air of authority still about him, "Never do that again. You are to take no part in future Harrowings. Have I made myself clear?"
She stood, trembling as her knees felt slightly weakened. She had expected to feel disgust at his touch, to wish to pull away from him as she had always done prior to accepting that she carried his child. Solona was startled, and unsure as to why the touch he gave her now nearly had her wanting to weep.
"Yes," She replied, her voice more even than she would ever have thought possible. "I will attend no Harrowings while I am with child."
She did not voice that she would therefore never attend another Harrowing.
There was a flash of indecision in his eyes, as if there was something he wished to say or do, however it was lost beneath the blank look that stole across his features.
"You will be seen by the other creation mage," he commanded with a gruffness to his words. "If anything is amiss, you need only tell one of the Templars to report to me."
She gazed downward, as he pulled his hand back from her, and went about putting his gauntlet back on. Solona said nothing, as she could not directly refuse him and instinct warned her that he needed to know the child was unharmed. It would also sooth any linger concerns she possessed as well.
However, her magic allowed a nearly physical assurance that the child thrived still.
"Of course," Solona murmured, swallowing back the strange yet vague sense of disappointment that briefly stabbed at her.
He nodded swiftly, watching her closely and his gaze rested on the obvious evidence of their couplings. Solona felt oddly exposed under his probing stare.
"The babe is well," she said quietly. "I was not harmed."
Ser Cullen's eyes narrowed as he flicked his eyes upward to look at her face.
"You could have been harmed, had I not been there," he pointed out
Solona's mind recalled the Templar that had stood in front of her and a look of stricken disbelief morphed across her features.
"You stood in front of me?" She asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper as she attempted to puzzle out why he would have done such a thing. Her only conclusion was that it was to protect the child. HIs duty to the Chantry must have provoked him into action.
He leveled a look at her that was bordering reproachful.
"I could not permit the Demon to attack you."
Solona knew that by Chantry law she was to be protected, however, Petra had been in the room. And it was Petra that belonged to him now. Her curiosity flared to such a height, she could not stop herself from venturing to ask.
"But," Solona said with her confusion nearly written across her face, "the First Enchanter?"
"What about her?" He responded coldly.
"She is under your protection now," Solona said, with as respectful a tone as she had ever given. "I have been denounced."
Ser Cullen said nothing, though his face appeared carefully guarded.
The silence between them was broken by the door opening and the only other creation mage in all of the Circle of Magi rushed in, effectively destroying any chance at conversing further.