Author: Kira Tamarion, once again, thanks for beta-reading this fic! I appreciate the help a lot.
Now, plenty of warnings up ahead.
Warnings: This story contains YAOI/SLASH (Male on Male relationships) This story contains triggers for people who are abused (Sexually, physically, emotionally). If you are uneasy about these kind of contents, I suggest to stop reading. This story will also contain (possibly in the future) mentions and/or actual abuse. If you are uneasy about that as well, I suggest to stop reading. This story isn't for the faint of heart and the tone will be darker later on.
Blizzard
Chapter Two
The knights' entire schedule changed. Greagoir does it every three months to make sure they don't fall into a monotonous routine. Since their job is only to keep watch, it didn't make much of a difference
Except in when they have to eat, sleep, and wake up.
Cullen shifted his weight on the balls of his feet—the numbness, and the needles and pins sensations on his legs eased.
He was assigned in the Dining Hall for his afternoon shifts. He had told Maura about it, so they had to reschedule their meetings. Now, they met in the same alcove at four bells instead, an hour before Cullen's night shift at the Male Dormitories began. Sadly, Maura's classes start half an hour after the fourth bell, so their usual meetings are shorter.
For now, he could only sigh forlornly. It had been a few days since the change of shifts, and his, well… meeting the pretty Amell's elven friend, Lirenel.
As Cullen replayed the incident in his head a few hours after that, he couldn't help but feel it was such a disaster. Ripped books, what a very engaging topic of conversation! Yeah right… Cullen frowned and sighed.
"Greagoir!" The templar apprentice stood as still as he could, his whole body tight and attentive. Knight-Commander Greagoir passed by the Dining Hall, arguing with Irving. However, this conversation is not as vocal as their previous arguments. When both men passed, Cullen relaxed a bit.
He looked around to see other templars relaxing now that Greagoir was gone. Ser Drass poked his head around the arch and grinned, and then he returned to his post just outside.
Thank you Drass for being a good knight, good friend, and good guard, especially the friend and guard part.
Not that Cullen takes his duty lightly, without a doubt he is doing the Maker's will, but standing around can be tedious at times, especially when there is no one to talk to.
His eyes roamed the hall, looking for suspicious activity. The only suspicious thing he can see is the large amount of dessert, and the only flesh knives are cutting through are either chicken or pork. If there is blood, an apprentice or Harrowed Mage would complain his steak isn't cooked properly.
He almost choked on his own saliva when he saw Lirenel reading as he ate. Well, more like reading while he poked his potatoes with a fork.
His armor never felt this hot, but a cold sweat broke out on Cullen's forehead. He shifted again, trying to find a good position to balance himself, but the knight can't decide what is comfortable enough. His heart felt like it was thudding against his armor, and if it weren't for his gloves, his palms would be clammy. His gaze quickly moved away from Surana, but it would quickly move back to the elf.
To his relief, the elf didn't notice him. There are templars here every day, of course he wouldn't notice! And I have my helm on… He isn't worried that Lirenel is looking at him at all, nope, not at all. He isn't worried about looking like an idiot just in case Lirenel did look at him, no way, that would be strange and…
Nothing came up in Cullen's mind for the moment, but he'll think of a word for it soon enough.
Taking a deep breath, Cullen went on with his shift without trying to move much.
However, in his line of sight, Lirenel is at the very center.
Three hours before his next break and meeting with Maura. He'll survive, Cullen is sure. Not that he is danger or anything…. His thoughts must not linger to Lirene—No! He mustn't name him. He'll just call him elf. There are plenty of elves; it doesn't have to be Lir—that elf. It can be any elf, just not that elf.
Not that he is nervous about being distracted by the elf or anything. Or he is distracted about that elf at all. Or will that elf find him distracting and stare at him for looking stupid. Or that elf will think he is stupid and is distracting.
Never mind, Cullen thought exasperatedly.
Why is he worried about what Lirenel thinks about him?
'Alright, no distractions', Cullen thought as he clenched his fists in determination. He can survive this shift without thinking of Lirenel. Okay, he just said that he wouldn't think of the elf! Argh! He did it again!
"Greagoir!" All of the knights in the Dining Hall quickly straightened themselves. It's just so hard looking alert if they see people eating and if a few of the knights haven't even eaten yet.
Still, Cullen is thankful for the distraction. No! He meant reminder to focus. Yes, Greagoir and Irving passed by to serve as focus away from the distraction.
When Drass poked his head out again, most relaxed. Except for Cullen.
He can live through this shift without distractions. Yes, he can do this…
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
A week passed since that day, Cullen managed to concentrate on his shift without letting his gaze land on Lirenel. All right, his gaze lands on Lirenel every now and then. Okay, that's not true either, but he would look away a few seconds afterwards. That was untrue also; he was actually staring at the elf the whole time.
Cullen frowned. Does Lirenel even eat? Each time Cullen sees him sitting on one of the tables near the windows, the elf would have a book in hand and he be playing with his food. The knight has yet to see him eat it.
Just like now.
The elf isn't really eating, like he was supposed to be doing during his lunchtime in the dining hall. Instead, Lirenel studied while playing with his food.
Two hours passed in apprentices eating, templars watching, mages conversing, and Lirenel studying and not eating. Cullen wondered if the staff noticed, or Maura and Jowan. Maybe he should talk to Maura about this. Her friend looks malnourished. Surana's cheeks aren't very hollow, but his bones are starting to show. Cullen wondered that if the elf stripped, would the bones on his back be visible and easy to count.
When three bells rang, Cullen distractedly headed back to the alcove. His mind lingered to Lirenel and seemingly physical decline. When he met Maura half an hour later, he told her about it.
"But he eats during supper." Cullen frowned, and then asked.
"How much?" Maura tapped her chin, her eyes unfocused as she paced.
"Well… not much to be truthful. Well he—"then Maura's eyes widened. Her head quickly snapped towards Cullen, her mouth hung a bit open and her hand remained suspended in the air.
"Eh?" Cullen stared at her, confused and slightly bewildered. Maura quickly snapped her mouth shut into a frown, and Cullen could see the gears in her head turning. Slowly, her lips twitched, and then it curled upwards into a big grin.
"You like him!"
Cullen's jaw dropped. "What?"
Maura's grin widened and then hooked her arms around Cullen. She laid her head on Cullen's shoulder and she sighed softly yet deliberately.
"I should have known. You ask about him every time, and now you're worried! You're in love Cullen! And I will do the best I can to help!" Cullen didn't understand what Maura was saying. It sounds a lot like Tevinter in his ears, Elven even…
"What?" he asked again. Maura giggled, and released her hold on his arm.
"Don't worry, I'll feed 'Nel for you and I'll be sure to tell him you were worried enough to ask me." Maura was about to skip away, but Cullen stopped her.
"No! Don't—I mean, don't mention me to him… I uh… Templars aren't really supposed to be friends with mages, and uh… er… Greagoir says we shouldn't care too much, I mean he should know he isn't eating, right? I uhh… The other templars won't like it, and uh… er." The apprentice's eyebrow is raised, her lips are pursed and her hands are on her hips.
Maura snorted, "Sure, let's go with that. So—"
Four bells rang.
Maura smiled, and Cullen did not like it at all. There was something sinister behind it, and Cullen wondered if it's still Maura or if a demon replaced the girl.
Cullen was about to pull her back, but she quickly dodged his hand and ran off, headed towards her next class.
The blood in the knight's face drained, he realized a lot of important things he should have said.
One of those important things is that he did not deny that he liked or disliked Lirenel Surana.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
When Drass asked why his forehead was so red, Cullen told him he tripped.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Lirenel is having a relatively good day. The templars aren't very moody today, and the library seems quieter than before. Jowan is still having trouble in his Elemental Mastery, Maura is improving on her Healing Spells, and his progress on Spirit Mastery is improving as well.
The elf is also glad for the lack of Cullen in the library. The initiate is very clumsy and he won't stop staring at him.
Bile began to rise in his throat, tears burned behind his eyes, and Maker no—make it stop, make it stop, make it—
Shaking his head, Lirenel picked up his writing materials and gathered them into a pile. It was his lunchtime, and the hall should have fewer mages by now.
As he walked, his mind drifted off. Lirenel's morning is very hectic, but he actually has plenty of free time in the afternoon. Then two more classes for the evening, and then that will be all for the day.
When night falls, the beast comes and goes. But he knows the beast is always there, always watching and never resting. The beast calls to him when no one sees, and he follows unseen. The beast takes and ravishes everything; he revels in the fear, in the anger, in the lust, he—
Lirenel clenched his fists. He should be scheduled for his Harrowing soon, preparing for it is the best course of action. His healing spells needed improvement, his Entropy spells are also horrible, and he needs to study more about Spirit Healing in case it's part of the Harrowing.
The elf has plenty of free time, and studying in the dining hall had become a recent habit of his.
It was so sweet. The taste lingered on his mouth and slid on his throat smoothly. It was a strange thing, but he is thankful. He smiles hesitantly, but his expression quickly turns into horror. There was pain on his mouth, his throat, and it burned all the way from his chest then to his stomach. He couldn't feel his limbs, he wanted to scream for help, but he can't move. His whole body is frozen, and he prayed for someone to notice, someone to save him. Then something burned from the pit of his stomach, and bile wanted to rise up his throat. Shame and horror filled him, and he could see the world spinning before his eyes. Maker, he doesn't want this, someone please help. No, no, no, no, pleasenodon'tdothishelpmeanyonesavemeIdon'twantthishelp—
The mage's dining hall is on the first floor, and the walk from the library after his lesson with Irving took a while. He dropped his books on a table in a distant corner of the hall and quickly stood on the queue in front of the counter. When it was Lirenel's turn, he asked for his usual meal: potatoes, a few slices of carrots, peas, and a bowl of sweetened fruit.
He never liked meat. He prefers fish and vegetables. The idea of raising animals, and then slaughtering them had always disturbed Lirenel ever since he was young. Even before he was taken to the Circle, he could remember refusing meat, even if it was rare to eat it in the Alienage.
The tray is light, so he had no trouble at all walking towards the table he reserved for himself. After putting the tray down, Lirenel grabbed one of his books and began to read.
The Fade had always fascinated Lirenel. Of course, even if mages are beacons for demons to possess so that they may cross into the mortal realm, studying Fade Spirits is a better topic. There is of course, a small possibility on a subject the elf had always been curious of: Can spirits inhabit mortals like demons? Would they be corrupted should they try? Is it reversible?
There are plenty of other questions Lirenel has in mind as well, but he believes it's a topic for another day.
Idly poking at his potatoes, Lirenel wondered if Maura still has her old notes on Herbalism and how some plants react to lyrium. He had been researching this for a while, wondering what kind of plant can have traces of lyrium and bear its effects.
Lirenel picked up a new book and flipped it over to a page he dog-eared. He grabbed some of the parchment containing his notes and continued on one of his projects. It was an essay regarding Blood Magic that Uldred assigned.
Lirenel frowned; Maura mentioned there are rumors flying about. The most infamous one was about him dabbling in Blood Magic.
The blade left a trail of blood, and it dripped on the floor like a weak drizzle of red. He heard the knife clatter on the floor, plopping over the puddle of blood that formed. His whole body was shaking, and he was sure he was sobbing, and crying, and begging for the beast to stop. But the beast doesn't, the beast wouldn't. His voice was warm against his ear, and his body was warm. Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach and bile rose up in his throat again. The beast was still whispering, and he can feel a tongue tracing the shell of his ear. Then teeth nibbled on his near, and it traced his jaw, then the back of his neck. The beast was nipping and sucking, and he shuddered when his breath tickled his back. A hand held his chest, trailing over his bare skin. The beast's fingers traced his chest and pinched his nipples, he felt them hardening as he gave them equal attention. Then he was whispering again, his hand was rubbing circles on his hips. He couldn't hear what he was saying; he can only stare at the bigger hands that held his wrists. His arms were red in blood, and the wounds stung, and he could feel the beast other hand getting lower, and lower, and lower, and lower, and—
"Nel!" The elf almost jumped.
He turned towards Amell, glaring at her. She smiled in return, and then her gaze landed on his uneaten food.
"Tsk. Tsk. A lot of people starve in the world every day, but here you are. You have food, but you aren't eating it. You should be more thankful for your blessings, the Maker wouldn't want his children starving, now would he?" Maura wagged her finger in the air.
Lirenel rolled his eyes, "I will be eating; don't worry about it." He made a motion to wave her off.
"Ah, but I have someone checking up on you every now and then," Lirenel raised an eyebrow, "you have been a very bad boy 'Nel. You shou—"
"And here is your punishment…"
"Please no! I promise I'll be good! Please, don't! I—"
"Shut up!"
Thwack!
There was sobbing, then he shuffled closer to him.
"What I'm doing is for your own good," he embraces him comfortingly, "I only want to protect you. If you do what I say, your punishment won't be that bad. In fact, you might even enjoy it…"
"—listening?" Lirenel nods, his face was ashen than the usual.
Maura frowned; worry is evident on her face. She sat down beside Lirenel and scooted towards him, draping an arm across his shoulders. Surana flinched and looked away, and that made Maura worry even more.
"Did... something happen?" Maura asked in a soft voice. Lirenel cracked a smile, his shoulders are stiff and his body is tense.
"I'm alright, I… I don' have much of an appetite." He clenched his fists.
"Nel, if there is something wrong, maybe you should talk to Irvi—" Lirenel shot up, glaring angrily at Maura.
"I don't need any help!" he snarled. Maura stared at him, her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open in shock. Then tears began to form in her eyes and she wiped them away.
Lirenel's eyes widened as well, he didn't mean to shout at her. Everyone was looking at them, mages and templars alike. Lirenel sat down, the onlookers didn't turn away immediately, but then they did, one by one.
Sighing, he tentatively draped an arm over Maura and held her close.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you."
She sniffed. "It's okay. That's how people react when others are prying too much."
Lirenel quickly felt guilty. He couldn't take looking at her anymore, and he felt shame burning in his stomach again.
"I…" he sighed again, "I don't have a problem. I'm just stressed. That's all. My Harrowing is near." Maura gives him a long stare, and he could tell that she doesn't believe him.
Slowly, she nods and stands up. She accepted his explanation, for now.
"If you need help, I will always be here. If you don't ask help from anyone, you'll regret it. I will always be your friend." Lirenel nods, happy that she will help him when he needs it, disheartened because he is sure she wouldn't understand, and frustrated that he can't tell her everything.
He looks away; he can't meet her gaze. She is too good for him, too pure.
As for him, he had always been tainted. He doesn't deserve people like Maura.
"You've been staring at that initiate, Cullen." He shifts and looks away, not meeting his gaze.
Thwack!
"Remember this: No matter what you do or how hard you try, no one will want you. No one will bother with you. You're just trash, a waste of space. Should anyone know of our… arrangement, they will kill you and desecrate you. No one will miss you. Everyone will know that you deserve it. You're a horrible, horrible, filthy creature." He took a deep breath and gripped his chin. He held his face intimately; his lips were so close, as if he wants to kiss him.
"Not even Cullen would want you."