"While I understand your intentions were good, we cannot take the risk, Irving!" an older, rough man's voice hissed. I could hear the shift of armor from outside the door, and instantly pinned the voice to the Commander. Shuffling footsteps followed the accusation.
"And what of your ideas? To kill her? We cannot even be sure she has been compromised in any way!" retaliated Irving. Thank the Maker for Irving.
"Oh listen to yourself, Irving! Of course she has! Or am I the only one who noticed her screaming and writhing on the floor during her Harrowing? Or maybe perhaps you forgot that it took all five of my templars to restrain her?" Greagoir spat.
"She's dangerous, Irving!" he snapped. "You and I both know this."
Silence.
"Might I make a suggestion?" a third voice entered the argument, much less familiar than the other two. What had Isthalla said his name was? Duncan, was it? The other two fell silent in response to the request.
"Give her to me; she would make an excellent recruit into the Grey Wardens-"
"Absolutely NOT!" Greagoir screeched above the three.
"Greagoir-" Irving's voice rose. "Please refrain from shouting. We are not animals." I tried not to chuckle at Irving's bold remark.
"I will stop shouting when you both have had some Maker-given sense beaten into you! Do you not see the danger? You treat this as a simple matter when it is not!" Greagoir retaliated. I felt my skin begin to tense again in apprehension, leaning as far as I dare towards the closed door where the three men argued.
"It is only complicated if we make it so, Greagoir." Irving.
"Actually, it is simple-" Duncan cut in. "As far as I'm seeing here, she is only a danger as long as she stays here. Let me take her, recruit her into the Grey Wardens, and make something of a use for her skill."
"Oh yes, make it seem so simple!" Greagoir remarked sarcastically. "Do you not think she could just as easily hurt anyone in here as she would out there?"
"No, I believe she can and will-" Duncan began. "But the difference is it will be darkspawn, not templars. I would hope that you, of all people, would appreciate that. I am doing you a favor, Commander."
"And what favor, pray tell, would you be doing me when she runs away the first chance she steps outside of those gates? She would be an apostate, then!"
"There is that risk-" Irving interjected in a doubtful voice.
"Do you not have something called phylacteries for your magi?" Duncan spoke up. Greagoir fell silent. "Hand me her phylactery, and I can promise you she will stay within my watch."
"Out of the question." Irving's voice. Confusion took a hold of me as I froze and wondered if I'd heard wrong. That couldn't have been Irving.
"First Enchanter..?" Duncan turned to Irving, surprise entering his voice. Greagoir was still silent, if he had not burst into flames from his anger at that point.
"There is a very good reason we do not release mage phylacteries, Duncan. While I understand your motives, that is something I will not risk." A small silence followed.
"While I trust you, I am also a mage myself, and I can easily understand the temptation of freedom," Irving said. "I have trained her since a small girl, so do not take my words lightly when I say she would do whatever necessary to possess that phylactery." Duncan tried another route.
"I see power in the girl. I need that for my army," Duncan pleaded.
"Yes, but an unmanageable power!" Greagoir returned to the conversation with biting, unnecessary force. "You have no idea what dangers you are creating by even entertaining this notion!"
"I believe she would serve her purpose in helping stop this blight." Anger began to color into Duncan's voice, whom I'd assumed was as neutral as Irving.
"Or making it worse!" Greagoir retaliated. "I would as readily hand over a blood mage to the Wardens as Isthalla right now!" Now I felt anger creeping under my skin from Greagoir's harsh remarks. The longer I listened, the harder it was to stay still and resist the urge to burst into the room myself and knock some "Maker-given sense" into Greagoir. Irving, rather, spoke up for my absence.
"Greagoir, I think that is quite enough from you today." Quiet but grave. The room fell silent for a steady minute as the other two absorbed Irving's meaning.
"We need mage-kind in our ranks," Duncan spoke up, quieter, after a pause. "She is a perfect match for what I seek."
He pleaded a good case, but something was beginning to twist in my stomach that demanded I tell him no. I didn't want Isthalla to leave. I didn't care what Duncan wanted her for, why should she have to leave? I could feel myself bristling against this arrogant man, feeling a misplaced anger towards someone I didn't even know but needed to feel out of instinct. He talked of her as if she were an animal, deciding if she was of good lineage and stock. I was expecting him soon enough to offer up coin for her if this argument continued on. The very idea sickened me.
You can't have her.
"I would have to ensure her safety, of course," Irving said before I had a chance to process what was being decided. Panic lit up my chest. My heart thrashed against my ribs in sudden anxiety. "She is strong, but still very young and confused, Duncan." How could Irving let this happen? Why? I felt my blood beginning to boil with anger that he was so easily letting this happen, that Greagoir still wasn't saying anything!
Stop him! Maker's blood!
"I can't believe you are considering this!" Greagoir scoffed at Irving, though the vindictiveness in his voice had left him. I wanted to shout at him, tell him no. It took every bit of willpower in my body to stay still outside of the doorway. Stepping into that room may make things worse.
A lot worse.. I reminded myself at the thought of it harming Isthalla in any way. Agonizing pain entered my chest as I forced myself to continue standing there and listening to them deciding her fate. How could you do this, Commander? I felt betrayed. Angered. Enraged by his inability to protect her.
How could you let them take her this way?
I willed him to protect her, to keep her here in the tower and safe where she was meant to stay. How could he dare think it was safe for her to be outside of the tower? That was wrong! Outside was horrible, terrible, awful! Damned creatures roamed outside of the tower, and he knew that!
You want her to be killed, you bastard..
Inconsolable anger began to take hold of me. My arms were shaking, fists clenched as I felt the pressure building. I couldn't even concentrate on what they were saying anymore-my vision fogged over with the rage of his indifference-both of their indifference to let this complete stranger take her away from me.
From the tower..
"Cullen..?" My anger melted in an instant at the sound, and out of a red-fogged haze I turned and found her standing there, looking at me with her beautiful, dark eyes. Her hair was wild and loose around her shoulders and entangled around her face. I found myself stolen by her with a single breath.
My thoughts shifted entirely.
"I-Isthalla.." I breathed. She creased her brow in confusion, and I quickly straightened back up in response.
"Is everything all right?" I asked. Stupid, stupid! I silently cursed myself for my mistake, and winced before turning back to her in hopes she wouldn't be angry with me. She didn't look angry at all, but rather.. upset. Worried. She looked away.
"Can I talk to you?"
I stared for what must have been too long a pause. I was at a loss for words, unsure if she had truly just asked me such a question. Can I talk to you? Was I being fooled; was this a trick? I assumed it was never anything entirely important, because I knew she would not turn to me for personal answers. Yet the look on her face was anything but impersonal. It was quiet and unsure-entirely unlike her. It alarmed me.
"O-Of course-" I stuttered out after remembering myself and gesturing with a hand to allow her to lead ahead. I never dared walk ahead of her; she seemed to appreciate the effort of courtesy, at least.
From behind I found her usual leisurely, proud stroll reduced to a brisk stutter of a trot. My alarm at the situation began to build as I followed her down the winding staircase-doing my best to keep up as her pace quickened the closer we got to the front doors-and finally stopped just outside of the open front doors.
I turned my attention to the doors-suddenly wondering why they were open-then looked outside to find every mage in the tower strolling the grounds outside. The templars lined the shoreline, their swords at the ready in case any attempted to make a run. A few of the younger recruits walked with the mages, chatting amongst themselves as friends. Oh right, it was their weekly walk outside. My eyes shifted back to Isthalla.
"Take a walk with me?" she asked, her voice full of apprehension. I nodded mutedly and, forcing the jump of anxiety back down, held out my arm for her in a pointless effort of courtesy that I had attempted hundreds of times before and always failed. Without a single pause, she slid her delicate arm into the crook of my own and pressed up against me. I felt my heart completely stop.
She's never done that before.
Focus. We were stepping outside, out into the warm, bright afternoon sun. My heart was pounding in my throat, and though I never elected to go outside on these weekly walkabouts, I couldn't focus. She was close and warm and right next to me. I tried my best to remember that she was upset-I needed to try my best to keep it together. She needed me.
Maker's breath, she actually needs me.
I swallowed hard as we took a path around the backside of the tower-usually off limits to the magi on their walks-but I managed a dry nod to one of my subordinates as we passed. He nodded back, stepping aside to allow us to pass.
The noise of happy, crowded conversation faded as we circled slowly around the tower's grounds. The trees, which dotted the shoreline, faded into withering, dead limbs and skeletons that stretched along the south shore of the tower grounds, following out to the ruins of what once was a great stone bridge that connected to the mainland. I stared out at it as we came around the corner, finding its presence foreboding. It loomed a hundred feet high-dilapidated-a remnant of a dark history to its makers.
When we finally came to the most opposite side of the front of the tower, I came to a slow stop in front of an old stone bench and lowered Isthalla onto it and opted to stand myself. I wasn't sure I could think clearly sitting next to her. I fidgeted nervously with my gauntlets before deciding it was too distracting and crossed them behind my back.
"What's wrong, Isthalla?" I forced the numb words past my lips as I felt the weight of the conversation I'd heard earlier return to me.
She's leaving, and there's nothing you can do.
Isthalla said nothing. I felt suddenly selfish for wanting to keep her at the tower. She would just as easily be killed within the walls of the tower as outside-at least outside she would stand a chance of defending herself. It only enraged me more to think that Greagoir did not care enough to even try and pretend she mattered. The only thing that mattered to him was protecting his damn templars; he treated the magi like stupid animals that needed to be killed for simply biting their master. He would rather see her dead than try and help her.
You cold-hearted bastard..
"What's going to happen to me?" My attention shifted entirely back to Isthalla as I turned alert eyes to her face. Panic shot through my chest as I saw tears threatening her gaze. I dropped down on one knee and began to raise my hands, then decidedly stopped. I didn't feel worthy of even touching her-I didn't deserve to, as selfish as I was being. I dropped them back at my sides in a sudden dismay of guilt and creased my brow. She looked up at me, wanting answers, and I felt my heart drop.
"I-I overheard Irving talking to Duncan the other day…" she said in a withered, dry voice. Her expression darkened.
Oh Maker…
"I have a feeling I won't have a say in the matter.." she murmured bitterly while turning her gaze to the side so I wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. My heart broke in two at the sight; I couldn't stand it any longer.
I reached out a weak, hesitant hand and placed it on her shoulder. My stomach lurched with the gesture, then settled once I got a hold of myself again. I swallowed hard.
"Irving won't let that happen," I lied. She looked at me, briefly-a penetrating look of desperation and hurt-then flicked her gaze to the ground.
"I can't stay here." I swallowed hard again, my heart beating violently in my chest.
I know.
"I don't want to go with him, Cullen.." she admitted after a pause. I saw her face crease up in slight resentment. "Something happened to me during my Harrowing." My heart fell and stomach dropped again as she looked at me with expectant, pleading eyes.
I nodded, slowly, full of a resistant lead that wanted to refuse every gesture I was making. I forced my expression to remain stone-hard, pressing my lips together firmly so they did not betray me. I saw the hurt enter her eyes again.
"Greagoir wants me dead." My face screwed up in confusion as I tried to fight back down my own feelings, and failed. I squeezed her shoulder.
"I will not let that happen," I put a forceful, definitive point on each and every word while clenching my teeth. I won't let him touch you.. I felt my chest clenching up against me as I spoke the words, but knew I meant them. Greagoir would not lay a hand on her-whether it meant my betrayal or not-he would not ever be allowed that satisfaction. This I was certain.
She looked at me in a pitying, misty sort of way before smiling through damp eyes. I felt injured by it, seeing the doubt in her gaze, but then fell completely silent as she leaned forward and rested her forehead against my shoulder. I held my breath for a brief, petrifying moment-wondering what she would do-then let it out shakily as I reached up my free hand and rested it on her hair. My heart thrashed in my chest as it fought against different emotions of confusion and fear as well as my anger towards Greagoir and protection of her.
Remember your duty..
I shut my eyes and clenched my jaw tight, willing the anxiety away. Greagoir's stone-cold voice rang through my head like a well-remembered wound, inflicting my betrayal that had long ago been carved. How could I do this to her? I did not deserve her attention, much less affection. This was wrong. I should be burned for this treachery, yet I could not move away. How could you?
Greagoir's steely voice cut through my mind like a knife.
"Not a great method to start off your duties, Cullen," a deep and intimidating voice boomed from the shadows. I recoiled in horror as the cold, gray eyes of my Commander materialized from the darkness against the opposite wall and loomed over me.
"C-Commander I-I, forgive me," I stuttered out, immediately sheathing my sword and standing up straight against the wall. My eyes were still wild with terror and mistrust, but I refused to let my Commander see my weakness, if he hadn't already. Greagoir raised a tentative brow and stepped to the side, peering after the boys as they disappeared down the staircase, their voices echoing up after them.
"I trust you will remember the terms agreed upon for your reinstated authority and duty to this tower, Cullen," he warned. His voice felt like glass against my skin, chilled in ice and cutting down everything within his path with the mere tone of his words. I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword and nodded.
"I-I've been following her, ser-" I continued.
"You do not only follow her, you watch her, templar. You follow her every move, you make sure not a thread is out of line, not a single hair on her head is misplaced," Greagoir cut in with a snarl as he turned on me and backed me against the wall. "Because if she should fail, if she should fall down the same path as her mother, she will be not only a danger to this tower but a threat to the entirety of Ferelden."
"Your only duty is that should she show even a single sign of losing control over her powers, you will do as I have asked you and destroy her, without question. That is your task, that is your duty," he finished with a seething growl.
I nodded while tightening my jaw and trying to calm my pounding heart. I tried to swallow the dryness in my throat again, but only winced when it clenched up against me and stung.
"Remember that I can just as easily send you back to Aeonar. I do not wish for that to happen with your talents, however. You are of no use to me wasting away in that black pit." Greagoir spat while turning disdainful eyes away to head towards the first floor.
"Ser-?" I blurted out after my Commander. He turned on his heel in a second's notice, leering at me with his piercing eyes. I searched for words.
"Isthalla…I mean-does she..know? What happened to her?" I tried to sound tactful, but the words came out as more of a jumbled stutter than anything coherent. I cursed myself for my nervous stutter. Greagoir seemed entirely unaffected by my attempt.
"No," he said simply. "And it is our intention to keep it that way." I felt incredibly confused now.
"But, how?" I couldn't help myself. How is it she wouldn't… remember something like that? Something so traumatic? Greagoir's interest slightly rose as his face mirrored an expression other than solid stone for once and he appeared mildly surprised.
"Isthalla's mind is protected to keep her from repeating the mistakes of her mother," he said plainly. "It also acts in her stead as a protection against needless trauma which I'm sure you do not wish upon the girl, as fond as you are for her. She is not a threat as long as she does not remember. You would do well to keep that in mind, templar."
With that, Greagoir turned and strode down the stairs and out of sight.
What was he but a lesser monster than his commander? He had lied to her, and still lied to her… at what cost? To protect himself?
You selfish bastard..
Yet I still could not will myself a single word as I continued kneeling there, holding her against shoulder and praying to the Maker she would be kept safe. I swallowed hard as I pushed Greagoir's voice to the back of my mind and prepared to speak.
Forgive me, Andraste…
"You must go with Duncan-" I forced the stone-cold words past my lips. My stomach sickened as I spoke them, but I knew I could not-in my right mind-selfishly keep her here to die. Isthalla stiffened and leaned away with this comment. She looked at me, stung, and frowned. I clenched my jaw.
"You have to, Isthalla-" I began, pleading with her. "It's not safe to stay here, not for you." Her face crumpled more, and I hated to see that her expression was beginning to change into a look of violent mistrust. She slowly pulled her arm away from me, recoiling.
"You-" she choked out. "You lied to me-?" Her accusation pinned me with a knife's edge, twisting deep into my gut. I tensed my face, the pain seeping into my voice as I desperately tried to catch her before she ran away from me completely.
"You knew about this and you lied to me?" Anger began to color her voice now-a well-known anger that stung me too greatly. My heart was in my throat. I fell to my other knee and shook my head.
"No! I-I just wanted to protect you!" I begged. "Isthalla, please! Listen-" A fury like none other personified within her expression as she stood to her feet and slapped my hands away. I could see her right hand begin to glow with a vengeful infliction as she raised it back and contorted her face into a snarl.
"Get away from me!" she yelled. I tried pleading with her, begging her to stop.
"No, no please, Isthalla! They'll hear you!" I hissed, my eyes darting over my shoulder to the sound of a distant, vague shout.
"THEN LET THEM HEAR!" she roared. I froze. She stood over me, both hands aglow now as her eyes turned into an empty, white void and she pointed a defensive hand at me. I recoiled and held up my hands, pleading.
"You don't understand, PLEASE!" Her anger was too consuming, too enraged. I had injured what she valued most precious-her trust. I did not even have the chance to absorb my pain at knowing she hated me now when a voice called from across the lawn.
"STEP BACK!" a templar called to Isthalla. I turned just as a senior templar came running around the corner and raised his sword.
"NO!" My shout was drowned out by the reverberating boom of his spell. I could not reach out in time to protect Isthalla from the worst of the wave, and saw her body get knocked to the ground before it hit me in the chest and sent me into a swimming abyss of fogged nightmares.
You selfish bastard..