Caged Together
Chapter 2

Neither of them were sure exactly how, but by the following morning, every being in the Tower seemed to have heard that Solana Amell, Mage, Grey Warden, and Hero of Ferelden, had slipped into the Tower sometime late last night.

And that Cullen had been the one to greet her.

Of course, what they hadn't heard was that there had been a small fight and an almost-decapitation that followed her arrival.

For which they both found themselves grateful.

.X.x.X.

She had seen Irving who had smiled at her warmly, and she had seen Greagoir who had given her a quiet but respectful nod (both of which she had returned). And she had seen a few familiar faces of her fellow mages who had fought along-side her at Fort Drakon, as well as the ever-present Templars who, even with their duties expanded to include helping to clean and restore order, stayed true to their Maker-given task of glaring at any mage that passed their way (though something about their 'glares' struck her as odd— they were more wary and cautious— as if intimidation was no longer their number-one goal. Or maybe they just seemed that way after the hordes and hordes of darkspawn). She had even seen a certain overly-enthusiastic dwarf scholar who had greeted her with a chipper wave and a bombardment of gratitude.

And, when she was no longer able to deal with the whispers and glances and constant questions, she retreated to the Library.

Or rather, to what used to be the Library.

It, like the rest of the Tower, still showed signs and scars of the battles that had taken place there not so long ago; the shelves were toppled, the tables and chairs were splintered, and many of the books were ripped or burnt or turned to ash.

But they were still there.

And so, with a determined sigh and a roll of her shoulders she set herself with the task of salvaging any of texts that she could.

- o -

She was still in the Library when he found her.

Seated on the floor, right in the middle of the room with books stacked in a circular barricade around her and a bottle of ink, a quill, and a piece of vellum sitting next to her, she was taking inventory of the remaining texts, sorting them as she went. It was easy, now that she had fallen into a routine. First she would take a book from her left, glance at it, and occasionally thumb through it. Then, she would copy down the title, the author, and sometimes a little reminder or note on the vellum in front of her. And finally, she would move the now-sorted book from the pile on her left to one of the ever-growing piles to her right.

It was simple but it was busy. And she was more than happy to pour all her attention into her task at hand.

And it wasn't until Dog let out a low growl and a short bark that she jolted back to the real world and realized that someone else had entered the Library and looked up.

And then she saw him and she muttered, "Oh," and resisted the urge to cover her neck with her hands, choosing instead to greet him with a dull "Hello, Cullen."

Cullen said nothing. Instead, he began to walk around the book-wall that she had encompassed herself with. He was quiet and solemn and distant as he circled her, watching.

And she was overcome with the uneasy feeling of someone who was stranded in the middle of the ocean with nothing but a very thin, very rickety boat to separate them from a very hungry-looking shark.

"Do you need something?" she finally snapped, sounding a little more defensive than she would have liked, "Because I'm busy."

"No," he replied, continuing his pacing.

"Oh," she said, unsure of how else to respond, "Well." And she went back to her task, trying her best to ignore the creak of his armor and feeling of his eyes on her back as she worked.

And finally, after walking a full three-hundred-and-sixty degrees, Cullen came to a stop and folded his arms behind him and turned to look at her straight-on.

And she could feel her face grow hot.

And beside her Dog whined, inching protectively closer to her.

And she remembered how easily he had knocked the man on his back less than twenty-four hours ago and she was suddenly horribly, horribly glad that she had the hound with her.

Because this man was a Templar, and she was a mage.

And, slayer of the Arch Demon or not, she couldn't help but feel a little unnerved; there was something in the way he stood there looking at her, dressed in his armor with his sword on his back, that made her feel more than a little claustrophobic. Because everything thing about him simply screamed 'Templar'. And the fact that it was Cullen, who had once smiled at her and helped her and treated her like a human-being and not just some empty demon-vessel, just made it that much worse.

And she wondered desperately how much longer he was going to stand there, silent and watchful and guarded. And then she wondered whether or not her running out of the room screaming was really as good of an idea as it sounded when she heard him speak, his voice hard and cold. "You shouldn't have come back."

She almost let the quill slip from her fingers as she looked up, unsure if she had heard him correctly—or if she had heard him at all.

"There's nothing here for you," he continued, gazing dolefully at an over-turned bookshelf, "You shouldn't have come back."

And, before she could piece her thoughts together and think of a response, he was gone, his metallic footsteps sounding in the distance as he walked.

.X.x.X.

Cullen lay on his back on his bed in the all-too-empty Templar Barracks, still suited up in his armor. He had his arms over his eyes, shielding them from the torchlight that danced in the corner of the room. He wasn't trying to sleep, though, just… rest.

And think things over.

And, through the blackness of his shielded eyes, images began to appear and dance around his head laughed at him as they brought her into view:

She was smiling at him as he looked at her over the stack of tomes he had taken from her, giving him her thanks and offering to help him reach his destination. She was watching him, arms crossed, with an expression cold enough to make him shiver as she considered him and his words, her gaze slowly softening and her smile appearing once more. She was sitting in a chair in stone chamber, her eyes flickering beneath their lids as she fought her way through the Fade, no longer aware that stood over her with his sword drawn and his breath held. She was standing in front of him, her had pressed up against the magic wall that kept her out and him in, a look of pained worry carved into her features as she whispered a promise of resolution to him through the barrier. And she was sitting, hunched over her writings as he circled around her and watched her with a cold disdain that she did her best to try and ignore.

And he hated himself. On so many levels. For so many things.

He hated himself for speaking with her, for laughing with her, for wanting her. He hated himself for treating her like he had—first like a friend… and then like a mage.

And he wished, suddenly, that she would just die or disappearor do something so that he could just wipe her from his mindand never have to deal with her again.

And then, right after he thought it, he hated himself for that, too.

.X.x.X.

Amell had left the library, her back stiff and her hand hurting, to go wander the rest of the Tower.

She had left Dog behind, unwilling to disturb him from his much-deserved slumber, and was now walking alone along the winding tower steps.

She passed a few people as she went; mages and Templars and Tranquils alike, all busied with some form of labor or another, still trying hard to get the Tower back into a working order.

And she wasn't sure if she felt comforted or unnerved by this.

Just like she wasn't sure whether she felt reassured or frightened by Cullen's presence.

She was glad to see him— really, she was. Because Cullen was someone she knew; a familiar face who knew her not as 'The Hero of Ferelden', but simply 'Solana'. Someone who thought of her as not a Grey Warden, but just a girl—a girl who happened to be a mage.

A/N: A while ago someone messaged me with questions and advice about Elsie, about how I should bring her in later in the story. I'm curious, what do other people think?