Cullen's Gone Mad;
Chapter One: The Dream
It was much later in the day than Synara had realized when she left the safety of the other wardens and the more she thought about it, the more she was beginning to regret leaving. She was a mage, totally dependant on her magic skills, though she had picked up a few other combat moves from Zevran, it would be no where near enough to defend herself against Cullen if it came to that. She thought about Gregoire's words, 'Cullen is a force to be reckoned with', of course it had slipped her mind that Templar's are trained in ways to neutralize mages, but in all fairness, the only thing Synara thought about when leaving was how to help her love, not a fight against him.
Synara decided it would be a good idea to head to Denerim, get the supplies she couldn't take from Soldiers Peek, she knew that's where Alistair was ruling for the moment and didn't have the desire to see him, in fact, she didn't have the desire to see anyone but Cullen. She walked the roads with her hood up over her head, strands of red hair blew out trying to escape. Every step she took she felt as though there were watchful eyes upon her, whether they were that of Cullen, wild hungry animals, or even just her imagination, she could not tell. She walked calm and collect, or at least she tried to, the slightest noise made her jump causing her heart to beat out of control. It was silly and she knew it; the Archdemon hadn't caused her to act in such a way, so why should a man have this effect on her? Maybe because the Archdemon couldn't strip her of her powers, maybe because she didn't have feelings for the Archdemon, or maybe… maybe because she hadn't felt she was to blame for the Archdemon being a monster.
As the mage continued to walk the pathway to Denerim, she calmed as the great doors to the city were now in sight. She hadn't stepped foot in this grand city since she confronted the blight. It was amazing how well it had been rebuilt in such a short time, though it was clear people were still working hard to regain what they had lost. Either way, there were enough stores open to get what she needed, and even the tavern was back to its former glory- something told Amell that was there first place to be rebuilt.
"You're- you're that Grey Warden aren't you?" Synara didn't reply, she kept her head down, her hood covering most of her features. She handed the man some coin for her food.
"You're mistaken," She finally answered knowing if she told him the truth she'd be overwhelmed with strangers in seconds just trying to get a look at her, then she'd have to fake a smile, pretend she enjoyed the attention, but in fact, she left for Soldiers Peek at the first chance she got because she didn't know how to handle this much attention, all her life she had been watched but no one actually spoke with her, no one praised her in such a manner- she didn't know how to handle it. And as she left, the man followed her with his eyes.
Synara considered her options, she could stay at the inn for the night, she would be safe from Cullen, safer at least, but if she drew to much attention she wouldn't be able to escape the flock of worshippers that would follow. Other than that, she could camp for the night, but being out in the open was the perfect time for her hunter to confront her. Another very faint idea was to seek Alistair out, he would surely have a room for her, but the servants would no doubt gossip and the hound of hungry people would recognize her in seconds. She decided to camp, after all, Cullen was the person she seeked, and it was doubtful she would be sleeping tonight no matter where she was.
With all the supplies she would need for the following few days, Synara left the city in a hurry, partly to avoid the people and partly because it was beginning to get dark. She decided to make camp in one of her old spots about half hour walk from Denerim, she smirked to herself remembering how Alistair use to complain back in the old days; "We're so close to the city, why can't we sleep in an inn?" He would whine. Amell would merely laugh at him.
"If you have the coin, go right ahead." She would answer knowing he wouldn't have enough to pay. Her heart sank as she remembered how she was treated 'back in the day', everyone would shun her and Alistair because of the mere fact they were both Wardens, now she's overly praised because of it; she didn't know what she preferred more.
The camp was just how she remembered it, the scorched fire set in the middle, the patches of faded grass where the tents had been laid, she use to feel safe here even if the Darkspawn could jump out at any moment and kill them all, she felt safe because she was among friends, and now, there was only her and the night. Once the fire was lit and her bedroll unraveled next to it, she sat alert and waited. The wind swept lightly, playing in her hair before flowing to the trees causing them to rustle. It was peaceful, the night was merciful. Amell watched the flames dance and swirl; it made her eyes heavy, weary, until finally she submitted.
The one thing I always wanted but could never have.
The Maker knows my sin.
The words whispered, echoed, and bounced in the darkness, Synara couldn't tell which direction the voice was coming from. She swirled around, squinting, tying desperately to find the origin. Her heart began to race as panic crept in. She could feel him, all around her, everywhere, but she couldn't see anything- why couldn't she see him? She tried to call out, but with no idea what to say she merely gasped and twirled frantically. Cold hands tightly grasped her arms and yet she still saw nothing in front of her. Again she tried to speak but could not. Whoever grasped her began to push her back and light showered over her, only her.
"Do you know what you've done to me?" The voice was in one place now- in front of her. It has a demonic echo; harsh to her ears, like nothing she had ever heard before. She was pushed back further into the light, falling on her bum. The floor was cold, sticky in fact, and that smell, why hadn't she noticed it before? It's was harsh to her nostrils, almost burning. She lifted up her hands- Blood, it was all over her. She traced the blood back to the body… bodies; bodies of mages. She gasped, tears welling up in her eyes, he couldn't believe what she was seeing. "This is what you made me." The man stepped forward into the light, he was hardly recognizable, most of his body was covered in the blood of those he had murdered, his face… his eyes, they were demonic. He took a step closer to her and she shrieked as he pulled her up by her hair. "You're a sin to the Maker Synara." His lips turned into a smirk, "Even your name consists of the very word." And with that, he plunged his long sword into her chest.
Synara Amell awoke with a fright, she was breathing frantically and covered in a cold sweat. She looked around trying to find her bearings.
"A dream?" She whispered to herself. Her heart began to calm and fell back into it's normal rhythm. She sighed, pushing her hair from her face with one hand, and resting her other on her chest; there was no gash, no blood on her hands, no mages surrounding her. She was disgusted by the images her mind conceived of him. She had seen a lot of horrible things in her time, but that was not Cullen.
Synara finally calmed herself completely, she stood up stretching. She had slept most of the night away; it was beginning to get light, but only just. Deprived of wood to feed upon, her fire had gone out sometime in the night and the cold had crept in already. With a shiver, Synara rubbed her hands together before heading into the woods. She stayed as close to camp as she could and returning a few minutes later, she dropped the dried out twigs and branches to the group before using her magic to light them. The fire roared up, and the cold slowly vanished. She smiled to herself, a smile that quickly vanished as she turned to her bedroll, and there, on her pillow, was a single rose, a young woman had been selling them in Denerim, she remembered seeing them. She froze on the spot.
He was here.