She sat on the window sill staring at the sky. Her pink lips parted in a small o, a pale hand resting on the window pane. Her white hair was not up today, but rather tumbling around her shoulders and into her face. He wondered how much she knew that the moonlight enhanced her pale skin to glow lightly, making her look like a moon – nymph. He wondered how long he had been standing there, and if she realized he was watching her.

Willow sat there a look of awe on her face – he often saw this expression when she was taught something new, or when she mastered a new spell. He thought it fitted her, she hardly smiled, and when she did it was either out of embarrassment or when someone had managed to tell her something funny. But those smiles never compared to her awe – struck smile, the way her face a lit, and her eyes widened, and her smile, that was only, slightly there.

Cullen cursed his mind for even thinking such things, let alone taking notice and storing them in his memory. She let her hand slide down falling into her lap, and suddenly her face was turned down. She was biting her lip, looking like she was fighting off pain. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out, and felt his mouth betray him, " Don't – " he abruptly stopped, about to say, Don't stop. His face feeling warm, and the armor he wore was too hot.

She looked at him in surprise, a piece of white hair stuck to her lip. He realized his hand still suspended in mid – air. Dropping it, he mumbled, " ah n – nevermind. "

" Cullen? " she whispered, but her face still held pain. She attempted to shove it away, and replace it with a mask of indifference. He walked over closing the space and looked outside the window looking at the night sky. The moon was full tonight, and due to winter, the stars were twinkling bright outside.

" What were you thinking about? "

"It's beautiful. I wish . . . I could see it without this window. " it was only then he felt his heart squeeze as he realized what the pain she was hiding. He racked his brain trying to figure out how old the girl was now. Time seemed endless in the dimly lit hall – ways of the Tower, and every mission outside the prison was one that he accepted enthusiastically. It was hard to imagine staying the cold stone walls constantly.

He raked his eyes over again trying to figure out her age. Her cheeks were still round with baby – fat, and her breasts looks small, hardly poking through the gown at all, and her hips had only just begun to round.

He concluded she was about fourteen, give or take a few years.

" You are old enough to be outside on the grounds now, " he said, not past nighttime, but her pale skin suggested she never did go outside during her free time. She brushed a white lock behind her ear, she looked kind of nervous. He did not miss the slight blush on her cheeks.

" Ah . . . it's silly but . . . First Mage does not allow me outside, " her look of indifference fell to one of a slight scowl, but perhaps scowling wasn't the word, maybe a pout? She couldn't scowl if she tried.

" Why? "

" He says my magic is stronger than most, and it makes Head Templar nervous, so he rather me stay inside, " she said with a slight sigh of longing at the end. She looked sad now, no childish pout, just dipped down lips and unshed tears. If Cullen himself wasn't so shy, he might have said something to break her out of this sad stupor. He could have taken the manly approach, drag her into his arm, whisper her promises of telling the Head Templar off. Or he could have taken the sensitive approach and fallen on his knees and assure her how horrible this place was and how he would save her from it. He did neither, but rather something that surprised him.

He took her hand, dragged her to her feet and walked stealthily down the hall ways (as much as one could walk stealthily in armor).

- -

Willow's eyes were wide as the moon as he finally let go of her hand. The night air was chilly, but she did not seem to notice the gooseflesh that rose on her arms. She took a few steps, her bare feet silent in the grass, and there is was, the awe – struck smile that made Cullen's heart thump against his ribs. He was sure the armor intensified the sound but it did not matter at the moment, she was too mystified by the world around her.

The moonlight did her well, her too pale skin, wasn't too pale in the night, it was glowing. And it made her white hair look like it had a halo. It was hard picturing her ever in the sun. Her she was laughing, something that made him wanted him to figure out to make her laugh more. She was dancing, her night gown spinning around her knees. She grabbed his hand and twirled with him, her face alight with something has never seen before. They spin until she loses footing and falls. She laughs and rolls in the grass and he sits dizzily down. She sighs and stops so her head is by his knee. " I've never felt clover before, " she admits dreamily, " Everything is dead or dying where I come from. " Cullen strokes her hair absent – mindedly. He wants to tell her that he's glad she's here with him. That she's beautiful. That he wishes he wasn't a Templar or she a mage. But he keeps his mouth shut, listening to her talk. As though the night air made her drunk, and she can't keep her mouth shut.

She talks about her sister Knott. A subject she never brings up. How she's worried. How she'll be marrying in a year or two. How it will be arranged. How she wishes she could write to her, but Knott is illiterate and City – Elves are only taught to read and write if they are fairly rich. She talks about how she feels guilty. Like she was given a better opportunity then her sister, and how it eats herself up inside. She talks about the tower, about the mages, and how it's a Gilded Cage. He laughs, and tells her with her white hair, she looks like a dove.

She asks him is that so? And he replies shyly yes. She gives a slight pout but gets up. Brushing off the clover off her dress he gets up and wonders if he has offended her. She just smiles sadly, and lets the wind tease her hair. He notices a few grass strands in her hair and draws her close to pull them out. He pretends he doesn't feel her resting her head on his chest, and he pretends he doesn't feel his free hand rest on the small of her back.

And they pretend that it's ok to be like this. To be outside past curfew. To be together in embrace. That besides the armor in the way, he could feel her heart beating. He felt like a pervert in some ways. She was young. And it was hard to think past that. It was hard to remember that this was taboo. So he made the idea gilded much like the cage they live in.

They were friends.

And that's all he would ever see her.

A little sister.

Someone to watch over.

And once he could pretend, everything could be ok. Once they return to the Gilded Cage, everything would be pretend.

So they took in this moment of freedom of not pretending. The night's wind wrapping them up in an embrace, whispering false promises in their ears that everything would be ok.