Three long months had passed since I saw her face. Angry, bitter, and mad were my memories of that time, and quickly overshadowed any happy recollection I had once claimed. My nights were plagued with the ghost screams of those I had failed to protect, and had been lost to the abominations' grasp. I did not sleep that first month. Once my mind established a refusal for peace, I decidedly spent my evenings in the chantry begging forgiveness.
This had been my mistake, my fault. If I had paid more attention, and done my duty as was asked, I might have prevented this tragedy. Instead, I was blinded by naivety of my own selfish desires, and had ignored the problem standing right in front of us all. Uldred. A terror that my kind would not soon forget.
The bodies had grown so numerous that many had to either be burned on the outer grounds or thrown into the lake. After so many mangled corpses washed back up on shore, the commander had the mind to order the rest to be buried in a craterous hole and never to be spoken of again. My stomach riled with sickness on that day as I watched my fellow knights, silent and solemn, throwing their comrades into the pit along with every other faceless body to be forgotten. My blood boiled and heart withered with their absence.
Maker preserve us.
Captain echoed dully off the lips of my charges, an empty greeting that was never meant to be celebrated. I had taken the place of my former, Weston, who had been the right-hand to the Commander for many, long years before my arrival. It set like stone into my heart as I was reminded over and over that I had been the one to let him die. That I had not saved them all.
My body beaten, and mind razed by nightmares and crippling guilt that haunted my every step, it would be three months before I remembered what it felt like to sleep for more than a few hours. And three months it would be before I saw her beloved face again.
I had abandoned my hope (and in truth, my desire) of seeing that thing which had been my undoing. A forbidden affection that went well-beyond the jurisdiction of templar-mage relationships. I had been a fool, a weak and powerless fool to believe in any future with her. It was a child's fantasy, and one I would never again let take a hold of my mind so fiercely that it should ever disable me again. I couldn't let it happen again.
I burned this into my mind until I could think none other, yet on that day, the three-month marker since the tower's fall, I felt my heart burn as it once did when I saw her appear at the front gates. I had been stationed to greet a party expected to pass through on the way to the mountains. I had not been given a name, only that it was for official business directed for First Enchanter Irving's discretion. Now I understood why Greagoir had been so upset all afternoon.
She spotted me with her fire-amber eyes, and I confoundedly stuck to my spot like a bewildered child. Before I could prepare myself for a reintroduction to a long-lost memory, she had leapt into my chest and wrapped thin, ivory arms around my bare neck. Though I was dressed in full armor, I could feel the heat of her body and thrumming heart in her chest.
My mind did not reject it. I could not. Weakness filtered into my bones once more, trickling into the caverns of my chest and arms until I felt I would burn into ash. I wrapped my arms around her without thinking, and cracked my lips into a foreign expression I had long since forgotten. She smelled of wood and grass, of sweet spice and summer wind. My beloved mage, my sweet, fiery Isthalla.
Our reunion was broken up by the awkward cough of her companions, who I had only just found myself aware of again. The haze cleared, and I almost protested as she slipped away and settled back into her posture. I became distinctly aware of her short hair and draping neckline. My ears burned, though I remained steadfast when I spoke.
"You've cut your hair," I noted, unable to keep the tune of affection out of my voice. I tried to bury the smile that tugged on my mouth, as did she. Maker's breath, she looked more beautiful than I ever remembered.
"Sorry to interrupt-" her mage companion butted in. "We've come to see First Enchanter Irving, so if you would?" I could tell by the bite in her tone that she knew about our history, and undoubtedly had been a source of confidence for Isthalla. I felt a lump of slight shame fill my throat when I remembered our last encounter, one of which I hardly liked to recall. It was a bitter and dark memory, and I had been unforgivable to her.
My second, Alden, tried to step forward and involve himself in the conversation. Before I could forget myself, I held up my hand to steady my two charges and directed my attention to the irritated woman to my left. My eyes regrettably moved from Isthalla.
"Irving is indisposed at the moment with another matter involving the Commander," I glanced at her other companions. I could see Wynne standing off to the side, now engrossed in a conversation with one of the remaining senior enchanters still at the Circle. My eyes flickered back to the party as a whole. "Though he has sent me to wish you welcome to the Circle, and has offered that you take up rest for the afternoon in our guest quarters." I kept glancing over at Isthalla. Her eyes burned into me and smiling mouth made my heart pace.
"On a personal effect, there's a mess hall to your left through the archway if you'd like a hot meal. Our chef doesn't really know how to cook in small portions," I smiled in the slightest, which must have alarmed Alden a bit considering my dour mood the past week. Straightening, I removed my grin and cleared my throat.
"Ever since the attack, most of the apprentices have been sent to other towers while repairs are made," I explained, my attention shifting again to Isthalla. I doubt they had sent any news to her regarding the tower's occupants. By the attentive, imploring look on her face - they had not. "Those remaining help rebuild. Still, it's not enough to warrant the meals that Bastian cooks up-"
"Bastian's still here?" Isthalla piped up. I turned to her, my heart jumping in that old-familiar way, and tried to hide my enthusiasm at answering her question. Maker, I felt like a schoolboy in her presence.
"It seems a few abominations can't take the old man out," I commented with a slight tone of amusement. She smiled.
"I'm glad to hear."
"Nevertheless-" her female companion cut in again. I nodded.
"Irving insists that you spend the afternoon at your leisure, and will speak with your leader-" I paused, looking at Isthalla and finding the word quite strange to accompany to her, "later this evening." I softened. "If that's all right with you?"
"Perfectly fine," she breathed.
"Right, well I'm going to make myself scarce in that case," the other woman sighed while sauntering off. Two of her other companions silently followed - a tall, grey creature and a red-headed woman who began chattering on to the man. He didn't seem terribly interested in her conversation, but endured it nonetheless.
I recognized one of her companions from before, a man bearing Redcliffe's emblem on his shield. One of Duncan's recruits, if I recall correctly. He looked a bit confused for a moment before jutting a thumb towards the hall.
"Mess hall?" he asked. I nodded to Alden, who stepped away to accompany the man.
"I'm just about ready to eat my own boots, so I think I'll join ya, as long as there's ale to be had," a rather curious looking dwarf materialized from behind Isthalla and stumbled after the Grey Warden. A peculiar sight. That left Isthalla and one other companion I hadn't noticed before - a sharp-eyed elf that had previously been enveloped by shadows.
"I suppose I shall absent myself as well, if that so pleases you, my Warden?" he eyed me with the hostility of a feral dog, his hand touching her shoulder. She looked uncomfortable, and even stiffened in the slightest as she addressed him with a silent nod. His eyes switched back to me.
"Would it be too much to ask that you perhaps still have a library to peruse?" his voice was cold and viperous, an unwarranted exchange I still had not entirely grasped, though already began to take shape the longer I recognized the patterns of body language between them. I swallowed the jealous lump in my throat and nodded to the space over my shoulder, lips tightened.
"Take the staircase to the floor above, and through the second archway," I had hardly given directions before he slipped past me, just barely missing my shoulder with his own. Still a bit rattled, my attention was caught off guard when I felt her hand grab my arm and pull me in the slightest. I turned to look at her, my heart weakened by the imploring, soft look in her eyes.
"Would you like to take a walk with me?" she asked me in a way that implied she had never left, and that the tower attack had been nothing more than a dream. I stood in the sunlit hallway again, as all those months past. I wanted nothing more than to walk as we once had that time ago that felt now like a dream. Instead, I felt duty grasp the back of my neck and pull me away. With the weight of stone preventing my body, I forced the words from my mouth.
"I'm sorry, Isthalla," my tongue felt heavy and thick as I spoke, "I must attend to my duties." She looked absolutely crestfallen as her hand pulled away and tucked back into her chest.
"Oh," she breathed, her eyes flickered to the floor. My heart thundered in my chest and hands shook. I couldn't take it. Glancing once about me to ensure the remaining men had vacated the foyer, I turned Isthalla toward me before she could walk away and put my hands on her shoulders.
"Later, I promise.." I added under my breath, though I wasn't really sure what I implied. I didn't want to think about it. My heart was pounding and body electric within proximity of her own. Her eyes lit up with my assurance, and ears lifted from their position as she smiled at me. It was such a far cry from the last memory I had of her. She had been so angry with me, so wounded by my indifference. My posture weakened.
"Isthalla, I'm so sorry-" I began to apologize for my actions during the tower attack. I should have never said what I did to her. She didn't deserve to be treated that way. Before I could speak further, the flat of her fingers rested against my lips. She had never touched my face, not intentionally. I wanted to melt under her touch, shudder in an embrace my body had longed for since the day we met. Instead, I forced my gloved hand to remove her fingers, though grasped in my own. She didn't need to say anything, her expression was enough to know she had forgiven me - though I knew I would never deserve it.
"Maker, I missed you," I trembled. Three months could not deter my affections, and could not erase the ache in my heart to see her adored smile. Never had my love diminished, only waited with bated breath for the time that I might see her again, touch her skin, or smell the fragrance of her hair.
Hardly could I contain my restraint to reach out and pull her to me once more, and recall that rare and fleeting sensation of having her wrapped in my arms. Those memories were so few I could hardly count, though they remained in pristine condition to that which I held dearest in my mind. She was the brightest memory I had, the fondest that I could recall in the dark plane of my history. I basked in the warmth of her presence and sharp wit of conversation. Here, she was as real to me as ever. I wanted to tell her this and so much more, but I knew now that I could not.
Instead, I could only say those timid words of friendly absence: I missed you. Nothing more, and nothing less. Though in my heart I hoped she understood the weight of my words, a part of me endured the idea she might have never felt the same way. And that my misplaced affection was simply an echo to a false fantasy I had conjured. Even so, I could revel in the idea that it might have been. Could have.
"Meet me in the library tonight," she spoke. My expression shifted to surprise, and heart still thundered. I crumpled my brow in confusion.
"Do you plan on staying so long?"
"If your Commander does not mind," she commented. My heart fell. I had not considered the idea that Greagoir would be eager to be rid of Isthalla as quickly as possible. He was not very fond of her, after all, and two visits within three months might push his temper.
"I would have you stay for the entire night, if it were up to me," I sighed. My words apparently had implied more to her, for she squinted and smirked at me in a manner that suggested more than it should.
"And why would you want that, Cullen?" she snidely asked. My ears turned bright red in embarrassment as I caught up with my own suggestion.
"M-Maker, I'm sorry!" I rushed to corrected myself. "I wasn't- I mean to say, I wasn't implying that at all-"
"It's all right, I know what you meant," she chuckled at my behest, though her teasing was mild. It seems the outdoors had calmed her to a drastic extent; more than I had considered. Either that or for another reason entirely that I cared not to linger on. My heart fell again.
"I won't have you and your party leave without some form of provision and rest, though we don't have much to spare, you were and are still a mage of the tower," I picked myself back up and felt my heart receding. It was time to grow up; I couldn't keep indulging in a fantasy that did not exist. No matter how much I wanted it.
"You're more than welcome to stay overnight, if you should choose," I nodded to her. She looked up towards the heavens in contemplation for a moment, twisting up her features in a mocking manner, then nodded profusely.
"Yes, I think I will," she said in a overconfident voice, then smiled and laughed. "Sounds just fine to me, Cullen." I felt myself physically weaken at the sound of her laughter. A rare and precious sound. Clearing my throat, I turned just in time to see Wynne re-emerge from the entrance hall with an important look on her face.
"I see you have both re-acquainted yourselves," she said in a light, yet chiding tone as her eyes followed between us. She turned to her tiny, fiery leader with a respectful nod. Something I'd never expected to see in my life. "Isthalla, I've just spoke with Ellen about the tower - I might just have to remain after all. It seems they are one short a proper enchanter for the third floor."
"Did Irving request for you to return?" I interjected. She turned to me with a slow, empty smile.
"He did, as I'm sure you are aware that the Circle is quite short on helping hands. I've already spoken to Isthalla about returning to provide my assistance. There are still apprentices that need teaching, after all," she said with a self-assured nod.
"Greagoir would never admit that we need as much help as we can find," I agreed.
"It seems so," she grinned, then glanced back to Isthalla. "I shall leave you to it, then." With a strange look in my direction, Wynne strode away towards the staircase, once again leaving me with Isthalla.
"Uhm, well I suppose you should return to those… duties," she re-emerged from the conversation with a slightly awkward tilt of her head. I could feel the back of my neck burning as I ran a hand across it, silently scolding myself for ever saying it in the first place.
"Y-Yes, well-" I found myself tongue-tied and unable to conjure a more respectable statement. I thought I had kicked my damn habit of stuttering. She brought out the worst of it in me.
"If you're quite done with all those templar duties, take a walk by the library tonight," she winked and stepped past me, one hand brushing my armor. My skin burned to feel her touch. I shuddered in the slightest, and shut my eyes to quell my heart. "I'd prefer to talk to you when I don't feel like there are eyes boring into the back of my head," she added in a murmur. Her eyes fell to the ground, and for a moment I thought I saw grief tender her eyes. She furrowed her brow, hand still on my armor, and whispered into space between my arm.
"I missed you, too… Cullen."