Disclaimer: Dragon Age is Bioware's sandbox — I'm just playing in it!

A Templar Unbound

Chapter Four
Gone

Cullen always felt like he was back in his pre-Knighthood training whenever he sat in this office.

The first time had been shortly after he had been transferred to the Ferelden Circle Tower, and he had had to explain himself to both the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter regarding an allegation one of the mages had made against him. It was said that he'd threatened the boy — Anders, by nickname — with torturous drains on his mana unless he agreed to give him his entire stock of Lyrium potions whenever he asked.

Cullen could still remember how small he'd felt in that chair, how unimportant he had felt when defending himself, a newcomer, against such allegations.

In the end, Anders was found to have been making similar claims against other much less likely templars, and Cullen's dignity and record had remained in tact.

Nevertheless, looking into those dark grey eyes always reminded him of looking into a storm at sea, and he was never sure about putting himself willingly in its wake.

"I must say, I'm surprised," Knight-Commander Greagoir said, leaning back in his chair and considering the young recruit over steepled fingers. "Ser Darrin has always shown excellent loyalty to not only the Order, but to the cause of protecting the mages. It's unusual to hear about him behaving this way."

Cullen swallowed down the taste of betrayal in his mouth. He hadn't wanted to report Darrin, particularly, despite his dislike of him, and neither had he wished to stir up any trouble. His fear, however, was that Darrin would orchestrate something on his Watch that might not necessarily have happened. This mage, whom none of them really knew, already had the word of several Circle templars against her; he was interested in the truth, and nothing more.

The risk of that being clouded by prejudice just wasn't worth what it might cost them.

He had wanted to leave Darrin out of it altogether, truth be told, but being coy about what he needed to report would only have angered the Knight-Commander, whose temper was as stable as a novice mage's fire spell.

Knight-Commander Greagoir sniffed, and motioned towards the doorway. "If that's all, Knight-Templar…"

Cullen hesitated. One question had been burning in the forefront of his mind since this had all begun, and as Greagoir looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow raised, he found he couldn't hold back.

"Ser… What happened with this mage in her Circle tower? Why has she been sent here?"

The Knight-Commander considered him for a long time. Cullen simply sat there, blinking and trying not to ignore how he had suddenly become conscious of his own breathing, when eventually, Greagoir sat back in the chair. He rested his arms on the armrests and covered his jaw with his hand.

"Why do you ask, Cullen?" He surprised the young templar with the informal use of his name.

"I, er, um." Cullen stumbled over his words, silently chastising himself for seeming like such an amateur in front of his superior. The fact that the Knight-Commander might question his motivation had not crossed his mind. "Curiosity, Ser?" he finished lamely.

The corner of Greagoir's mouth curved into a small smile, gone so quickly that Cullen wasn't quite he'd seen it.

"I see. Unfortunately, Ser Cullen, I cannot tell you exactly what happened at the Markham Tower. We have two very different accounts of the same set of circumstances, and presently, no way to identify which is the truth and which is fabricated to avoid insult."

"Perhaps they're both true, Ser," Cullen suggested, earning him an appreciative nod from his Knight-Commander.

"Indeed. Either way, until things here have played out, I wouldn't want to colour your opinion of the girl. Perhaps… she may tell you, if it comes to that. When the time is right."

Cullen frowned. Just what on earth had happened at that Circle? "Ser?"

"All you need to know is that she has the potential to be a blood mage," said Greagoir, placing his hands on the desk. "And with that in mind, I would appreciate it if you… kept an ear out, for any false accounts. I'd appreciate a report after each of your shifts?"

Getting to his feet, Cullen offered Greagoir a modest bow. "Of course, Ser. I'll leave you to your duties."

"Maker go with you, Cullen."

"As with you, Ser."

As Cullen pulled the door closed behind him, he paused, taking a cooling breath. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, exactly, from that meeting, but it seemed to have gone well enough.

He set off down the corridor towards the mess hall, finally giving in to his stomach's insistent need for breakfast, his head swimming with thoughts of the mage in confinement.

-x-

Selena spent one month in solitary isolation.

The only contact she had with the outside world was when her meals or new robes were brought to her, when she would smile politely and say a soft 'thank you' to whomever was at her door. On more than one occasion this had been Cullen himself, and he had stood stiffly holding the tray or garment out to her, feeling her soft, brown eyes on him. She couldn't see his face – the helm saw to that – and he never spoke. But somehow it always felt like she knew it was him; there was something in her smile or the way she spoke, and he would spend the next hour with the uncomfortable sensation of having been caught doing something wrong. He had to try harder than usual in those moments not to look at her.

Once, he had glanced into the cell and found her looking directly at him. Her eyes transfixed, their brown depths were focussed on the path of his own gaze, like she could see him. It made his heart stutter with unease. He swallowed silently, reminding himself yet again that there was no way she could have known he was there. It was still remarkably difficult to tear himself away and return to staring at the spot on the wall he had become so accustomed to. He wondered if she had such an effect on any of his brothers, but thought it wise to keep such a question to himself.

From what he could tell, Selena spent most of her time in thoughtful silence. She moved about her cell as though she had always been there. She would stand in front of the banner of Andraste, murmuring quietly under her breath. Or she would sit at the desk, quietly leafing through one of the books with the aid of the soft candle light. Or she would simply wait on the bed, her eyes closed, in meditation.

Occasionally the resident cat would squeeze between the bars and sniff at her fingers inquisitively. Her face always lit up at his visits, breaking into a wonderful smile that brought her eyes to life. She would coo at the beast, stroking his ears, seemingly overjoyed to have some company at last.

This display of affection always seemed to irritate Cullen, who had never liked the cat very much, but it would have been cruel to dissuade the animal from the occasional visit he made to the cell – Selena's only other company was her own.

She had once or twice attempted to summon a little magic. The presence of it always made Cullen's back tense and set his nerves on fire, but they had never been very powerful spells: a small lick of flame to re-light a candle that had burned down, or the fizz of electricity to crackle in the air when the silence apparently got too much for her. However, the rooms were built to dispel such magic almost immediately, and her crestfallen expression after her attempt never failed to make Cullen feel a bit sorry for her.

But then he would shift, straighten, stare ahead, and remind himself that she harboured the potential to be a blood mage; it would not do to offer her any sympathy until after her name had been cleared.

"Did you feel that?" the templar sharing his watch asked him once, after she had attempted and failed to summon a small stream of fire, possibly to warm herself – it was particularly cold in the Tower that night. "Was that blood magic?"

"Nothing to alarm yourself with, Ser," Cullen had replied, his voice strict. "Occasionally mages do attempt magic when they're held down here. There seems no evidence of blood magic yet."

He could tell his peer wasn't convinced, as he kept glancing back into the cell at every movement the mage made.

It was only when she slept that Selena gave Cullen any cause for concern.

She would twitch fitfully in her sleep, murmuring nonsense or whimpering into the dark. She would toss and turn, the sound of the heavy blanket against the mattress rough and grating. More than once, Cullen had found himself drawn to the bars, hands curled around the iron as he watched her fend off what he assumed were nightmares from the Fade.

While he sensed no magic from her, and there never seemed to be any trace of demonic possession, he would pour all his strength into watching for any sign at all that something was amiss. But she always woke eventually.

As the days turned to weeks, she always seemed tired when he looked at her, dark circles burnishing her otherwise clear and pale skin. From what he could tell, there was no sign of darker magic running through her veins. He found himself hoping, sometimes praying, for her safe admission into the Circle as a student. He was certain it was where she belonged.

Since Darrin's removal from her Watch had been commissioned by the Knight-Commander, Cullen always found excuses to avoid his quarters unless it was strictly necessary. On the rare occasion he did come across the other man, there was a somewhat awkward formality between them. While Darrin couldn't have had any proof that it was Cullen who had reported him to the Knight-Commander – and while Greagoir had been surprisingly subtle about the whole thing, feeding it to Darrin such that his impressive skills were needed elsewhere – the man wasn't an idiot. After their conversation, he was sure to know that Cullen was responsible, and he could feel the weight of that every time he was levied with the other man's gaze.

Cullen took to spending more time with Gorim and Kaylin, although he disliked their endless questions about the mage down in the bowels of the Tower.

"You know I can't tell you anything," he would tell them, every time. "Please, don't make me say it again."

Still, when they weren't either patrolling the hallways or undertaking their templar duties, the three of them could often be found roaming the halls together, or sitting in the common room playing cards. Cullen was also delighted to find that Kaylin was keen to accompany him to the sermons on the Chant of Light, which more and more Cullen found were a relaxing way to either start or end his days. Somehow the words of the Maker would always quiet him, and calm any turmoils he had picked up throughout the day, like weeds choking out his judgement or focus.

He always emerged from the Chantry with the feeling of having been spiritually cleansed, and it helped him to keep a clear mind during his Watch of Selena.

-x-

At last came the day when Cullen, Gillian, and the two other recruits who had been watching Selena over the course of the month of Drakonis were called to their Knight-Commander's office. First Enchanter Irving perched on a stool beside the desk and nodded to each of them as they came in.

The grand oak desk was covered with official looking documents, reports, and a time piece that ticked on furiously. There was a fire across the room that burned at a constant ember in the old, ornate grate, and a number of tapestries lined the walls. They fluttered against the stone on silent draughts that made their way through the corridors of the Tower.

The Knight-Commander did not immediately acknowledge their presence as they stood before his desk. His head was bowed, his quill scratching hurriedly against a piece of parchment. It was only when the First Enchanter softly cleared his throat that Greagoir looked up. He hid his surprise behind a cool gaze, and Cullen wondered what had kept his interest so keenly.

Greagoir pushed himself to his feet. "I don't often say this, recruits," he began after clearing his throat, "but I wanted to thank you. I understand that there have been no incidents of blood magic from our newest member, but the risk you took by watching over her nonetheless is appreciated. Spending so many hours attuned to the dealings of just one mage can be very exhausting."

Cullen didn't feel like it had been any particular risk or difficulty, but he nonetheless nodded his appreciation at the comment when the Knight-Commander's gaze fell upon him.

Greagoir moved from behind his desk and began pacing his office, causing the four templars to turn and watch him as he went. With his hands clasped behind his back and his armour glinting in the light of the fire, he looked quite formidable.

"I wanted you to be the first to know I have decided to promote each of you," he spoke, facing away from them and towards a portrait that hung above the fire place. "Your unwavering dedication to the Order during this trying time, and the punctual and efficient reports I have received, has not gone unnoticed. Your fellow templars will be made aware of this change and you will be issued with your new insignia shortly."

Cullen's heart swelled with pride, but he contained the smile that threatened to turn the corners of his mouth – celebration could wait until once they were dismissed. He had been at the Circle Tower for years and was one of hundreds of templars. Promotion meant different quarters and more duties within the Tower that went above simply watching the mages. While he would be sad to leave Gorim and Ser Kaylin, having less of an excuse to see Darrin would certainly avoid any unnecessary confrontation, and there was no reason he and the other two could not continue to see each other on a more social basis.

Greagoir turned back to the recruits with a glint in his eye. "As for the mage," he began, casting a quick glance to the First Enchanter, "we have decided that she may join her fellow mages in the Circle immediately. I have just sent one of my men down to retrieve her, and she will — "

He was interrupted by the thundering of heavy footsteps in the corridor outside. Frowning, he started towards the door, only to recoil slightly when the heavy door was thrown open with abandon, crashing against the stone.

"What is the meaning of this?" Greagoir demanded, his voice raised, and glared at the templar who had interrupted them. "This is a private meeting, you are not to – "

"Ser," the knight interrupted, and it was then that Cullen noticed the sheen of sweat at his brow. "There was an attack, in the isolation cells. The mage. She's gone. Darrin with her, Ser. I think… I think she means to kill him!"

A/N: I'm so sorry for the cliffhanger! Next chapter won't take too long :) Thank you and hello to the new followers, glad to have you along for the ride!