Anders had lost complete track of time. The storage room he was holed up in with nine children had no window so there was no reliable way to count the days. He was guessing it was three days, maybe four, since Ilaria had locked him in and ran off. The shield over the door way was still humming softly, its eerie purple light pulsing under the closed door, so he assumed she was still alive. It would fall if she...
He froze Neria's body slightly the first day to prevent it from decaying. He was beginning to think now that bringing her body in had been a bad idea. The children had avoided the corner where he'd laid her down behind some crates. He wasn't sure how to explain to them that everything was going to be okay because he was beginning to believe it wasn't. Telling silly stories and singing songs in an attempt to distract them from the fear that hung heavy in the air proved exhausting. When the children finally slept and he was just drifting off he noticed that there was no more humming, no soft light coming under the doorway. The shield was gone. He froze, unable to move with the possibility of what it meant.
He was startled by a few solid thumps on the door. He reached for his staff as a familiar voice called out.
"Anders, it's Deylan. Unlock the door. It's over."
A few of the children whimpered in fear but Anders bolted to the door. The thought that it could be a demon impersonating Deylan briefly crossed his mind but it was quickly consumed by the idea that Ilaria was dying somewhere and maybe he could save her. He couldn't believe she was dead. It just wasn't possible. Anders ripped open the door, almost expecting anything but Deylan would be standing there. The relief that washed over him when he recognized his friend standing outside the door covered in gore and grime and looking completely exhausted nearly made him stagger.
Deylan smiled weakly, "Hello, old friend."
Anders hugged him quickly before pressing him back at arm's length. "Where is Arie?"
Deylan sniggered and shook his head. "Figures you'd ask about her first. She's fine. She's resting downstairs. They've made an infirmary out of the enter..."
Anders ran off before Deylan could finish. He'd taken just enough notice of Wynne to know that the children would be taken care of. He sprinted down stairs and through hallways, ignoring the carnage around him. It wasn't until he reached the library that he slowed. He recognized the face of an apprentice, just fourteen years old. He paused for a moment, taking in everything that had happened while he'd been safely locked away before moving sedately toward the make-shift infirmary.
As he entered the round, open room, he took in how few were left, mage and templar both. Cullen was standing against the wall beside Knight-Commander Greagoir, glaring at the a small figure across the room. Anders followed Cullen's gaze to Ilaria. There was blood on her chin from a thick split in her lip. Her right arm rested gingerly in her lap. The right side of her face was darkening to a swollen, livid purple. Her eyes were closed. He moved toward her, edging around others laying on the floor. He took in what was left of her robes. Both sleeves had been torn off to the elbows and her legs were bare to the knee and the fabric covering her abdomen was gone. Three thick pink lines were the only evidence of the injury that had been there.
As he reached her, he dropped to his knees beside her, gently reaching out with one hand to cup her undamaged cheek. Her eyes flickered open, meeting his. Tears rose in her eyes as the corners of her lips turned up.
"Anders," she breathed, her hand rising to cover his.
Anders looked at her, forcing back the tears beginning to burn in his eyes. She is still alive, he reminded himself. The rest I can fix.
He sighed dramatically. "Gone out and had fun without me again, I see."
She snorted and then winced. "Next time you can go play with the abominations and I'll stay home with the kids."
He chuckled. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"I've had better days..."
"Let's get you fixed up. I'm going to need you to lay down so I can assess the damage," he said gently.
Her body shook slightly in what he recognized as a smothered sob. He hadn't realized she was in so much pain. He quickly cast a weak spell that would block the worst of it until he could heal her. She relaxed slightly and allowed him to help her lay back on the cold stones. Her eyes closed as he gestured over her, working a spell that would let him know where she was injured and how badly. He grimaced as he finished. For as banged up as she looked, the majority of the damage was internal.
"Arie," he said. Her eyes opened and met his. "As I'm sure you know, your arm is broken as well as several ribs. Your ankle has some fine cracks in it and there's some bleeding in your stomach. I'm going to have to fix that first."
She looked up at him, a weak smile playing over his face. "Just fix what you have to and move on to the others. I'm not the only one hurt." She paused for a moment before adding, "Just... put me to sleep before you go."
Anders flashed his most charming smile at her, hoping to lighten the mood. "Well, sweetheart, I thought you'd never ask. Although, my methods of helping you sleep are generally performed in a more private setting." He winked at her.
"Anders, if I didn't hurt so much right now..." she pretended to threaten. This was what their relationship had been for the last three years; innuendo masking deeper feelings that neither of them dared touch on. Ilaria had always been open to the possibility of a deeper relationship one day but Anders fear of what the templars could take from him ensured that he kept an emotional distance between them; it had developed into a stretch of vast, forbidden territory that neither would risk entering.
"Sleep now," he whispered to her, casting a spells that caused her to quickly drop into a restful sleep. He examined her restful face for several moments before beginning a series of spells to heal her battered body.
Ilaria woke slowly. Judging by the faint daylight creeping through the windows high in the room she guessed it was just before dawn. She'd slept through the night and, after Anders adept ministrations, felt completely recovered. Her attention was drawn by hushed voices in the hallway toward the library.
She rose silently, wrapping the blanket around her like a cloak and tiptoed around the many sleeping bodies. It wasn't until she reached the doorway that she was able to place the voices as belonging to the Knight-Commander and Cullen.
"They are a danger to all and should be dealt with quickly. I do not understand why you stay your hand, Knight-Commander." Cullen's quiet voice was filled with the rage and pain of the last several days.
"I have made my decision, Cullen, and you would do well to abide by it," Greagoir replied. His tone expressed his displeasure and a desire to be finished with the conversation.
"Knight-Commander, any of them could be harboring a demon within. We cannot risk..."
Greagoir's voice interrupted Cullen's protest. "This discussion is over. I have made my decision and I will not be swayed. The mages remaining within the Circle are under my protection and I will bear responsibility for the consequences."
Ilaria could see Cullen's jaw clench as he stalked past the Knight-Commander into the library. Greagoir pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. Ilaria felt sympathy for him. He was a hard and unforgiving man but he fulfilled his responsibilities to the best of his ability and would not allow any to second guess him. He had personally trained many of the templars who's bodies now lay without the tower walls, prepared for the pyre. He knew each mage who had died by name. Ilaria felt the weight of his burden.
"Knight-Commander," she called out in soft, warm tones.
The aging man raised his head, looking in her direction.
"Ilaria, it seems Anders has done well. You appeared to be fully recovered."
"Yes, thank you." She hesitated a moment before continuing. "I... I just wanted to tell you that I appreciate your decision to allow the Circle the opportunity to recover. It couldn't have been a simple choice to make."
Greagoir sighed. "I could not condone the slaughter of innocents," he stated.
Ilaria had developed a great deal of respect for this man in the last three years. She had the sudden realization that she would miss him when she left the tower. With a heavy heart she bid him farewell.
"Good day, Knight-Commander."
"And to you," he responded.
As she started in the direction of the library, his words stopped her momentarily.
"I would avoid the young templar within. Cullen will be... scarred after this incident. He is not the mad you knew." Greagoir's face held an infinite sadness.
"Thank you for the warning, Knight-Commander," she replied and continued to the library.
Cullen was pacing near the library's summoning font. Ilaria's approach caused him to stop and turn toward her. She was like a ghost gliding in surrounded by memories, both real and demon-born. Her expression was a sadness tinged with concern. He couldn't help the unwelcome thought that it made her lips seem fuller and more inviting. He turned from her, the Chant of Light silently spilling from his lips.
"Cullen..."
Maker! Even her voice is a torment! he thought. He continued his pacing avoiding her gaze.
"Cullen," she said, a little louder. "I wanted to tell you I'm sorry..."
"You're sorry? And you think that means something coming from you? You're harboring a demon for all I know!" His voice was full of rage, barely controlled and just quiet enough to avoid drawing unwelcome attention.
He turned to her to see an expression on her face as if he had slapped her. He had never spoken unkindly to her before.
"I... I am not the best company now. I just... I wish..." He sighed. "Please, just leave me be. Go back to Neria and Anders." He turned he back to her, trying to hide the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.
"I can't. That is..." There was a small choking sound that he realized was a strangled sob. "Neria is dead. She was killed the first day. An abomination..."
His shoulders fell a little. Neria, sweet, innocent Neria. Suddenly it wasn't just the faces of his templar brothers that passed behind his closed eyes. Now there were the faces of the mages who had died without turning to blood magic, who hadn't been possessed.
"Ilaria, I..." he began.
She interrupted. "It's okay, Cullen. Everyone lost today." There was a long pause before she continued. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the face. "I hope that what happened won't color your opinion of all mages. Good bye, Cullen, and thank you. I'll never forget your kindness."
He listened to her soft footsteps fade away before losing his tenuous hold on control and braking into silent tears.
Anders woke from sleep to see Ilaria's face above him. Early morning sunlight lit around her head like a halo. He was struck by how beautiful she looked. He idly wondered why he had hesitated to pursue a relationship with her. He knew that he cared for her more than he was willing to admit but what if he did admit it? He had an amusing thought of them running away to Tevinter together and living in a little cottage with dozens of cats. He was about to tell her when he noticed her expression. Her face was tender and full of grief and... what? Regret?
"Anders, I came to say... good bye."
Good bye? He noticed then that she was wearing a heavy traveling cloak. A few moments of examination showed sturdy boots and other traveling gear. He sat up quickly, nearly hitting her head with his own.
"What do you mean, 'Good bye?'" he demanded. No! I must have heard wrong. She can't be leaving. Not now. I'd be... alone.
The look on her face broke his heart. He could she how much it was hurting her.
"Why are you leaving?" Anders did his best to keep his voice level and calm.
Twin pools met his eyes. They were dry now, but he could see she'd been crying. She smiled weakly.
"I can't stay... not anymore. I'm going with Deylan. I might be of some use... fighting the Blight."
He ducked his head, wanting to hid his face from her penetrating gaze. Her delicate hands cupped his chin. They were cool to the touch and so painfully familiar.
"I'm sorry, Anders. I'll be back. I promise!" Her voice had a desperation to it he'd never heard before and he knew what she needed from him. He reached out, wrapping his arms securely around her, and pulled her close. After a brief hug, he pressed her back, looking her in the eye.
"I understand. Besides, I'll catch up with you the next time I take my... unauthorized vacation." He smiled warmly.
Her lips quirked in the familiar half smile he was so accustomed to. "I'm going to miss you."
Before he could respond, her soft lips pressed briefly against his. Then she turned and darted away without another word. Anders watched her leave, a lump building in his throat. He allowed a moment to feel sorry for himself before rising and beginning to check on those who were still injured, his cheeky grin glued into place to prevent the inevitable falling apart if he dwelt on how alone he really was.