Notes: Once again, I would love to thank Kira Tamarion for beta-reading this fic. She is one awesome beta-reader! XD Also thank you Ventisquear for your lovely reviews~ XD I really appreciate them!
Well, things are going to pick up at this point. Chapter 5 will be something like a sneak peek in Lirenel's point of view. Chapter 6 is where the action/drama begins. *Grins*
To out usual warnings...
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.
Enjoy.
Blizzard
Chapter Four
Bookshelves are bolted on the ceiling, and the books are all open while they're attached on the walls. The Tower's doors are open, the windows had slides leading to the lake, and the floor is made of glass. Tables are crawling on the floor, and the chairs are flipping around lazily.
Maura is talking to Cullen, and she is saying something he can't hear. Templars and apprentices are all crammed in the room, the staff is bringing plates piled high with sweets and they would leave with empty ones, and there are a few dwarves chugging booze and passing them around.
Cullen can't hear what Maura is saying, music and general chatter overcame her voice. Cullen could see the First Enchanter and the Knight Commander, and they look like they are having a good time. Uldred is talking with a few templars, Niall is surrounded by women hanging on to his every word, and Eadric held hands with a human.
Cullen frowned; the day seems strange.
The whole world's color seems a little washed-off, but, for some reason, there is a strange quality or intensity that made Cullen's surroundings seem brighter and livelier. It feels as if he is seeing the world for the first time, without the limits of physics, the Maker, created.
Templars and mages surround Cullen, and he can see smiles of satisfaction on their faces. As if there is nothing wrong in the world.
A flash of gold caught his eyes and Cullen excused himself away from Maura. He bumped into a few Templars and mages, and he would give a brief apology as he followed the head of blonde. More people blocked his way, but he did not give up.
The classrooms are strangely empty; chairs and tables are bolted on the ceiling, bookshelves are lying on the floors and are bolted, and the books are floating lazily. Unlike the previous room, the classrooms are cold. The air is frigid, Cullen's breath misted, bits of frost cling on the glass of the windows, and a thick sheet of ice covers the floor.
The templar reached for one of the books and flipped it open. The pages are blank, then the book started to struggle and shake violently, as Cullen held it. Frowning, he let it go.
Cullen neared one of the bookshelves, there were books inside them too, but they were stacked with the front pages facing up. Cullen picked up a book and slowly opened it, half-expecting it to struggle. When it didn't, he took a peek on the pages.
The contents of the books are confusing. It's not empty, but paragraphs overlap paragraphs, making the words hard to read. However, there are hastily scrawled notes in the margins, but they are so small and messy to read without squinting.
Cullen narrowed his eyes, intrigued.
'—not true—is different. –can't be possible, he is always—not the same—'m a fool—the only one he—He wasn't like—what happened? He touched—he didn't listen! He doesn't—anymore! He always takes—he doesn't like to see me talking with—he's the reason why—Why is he doing this to me? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? WHY? WHY? WHY? Wh—'
"What have you done?" With a shocked yell, Cullen threw the book away.
Cullen's heart was beating loudly against his chest, almost painfully, his hands are cold and clammy, and sweat is dripping down Cullen's forehead. His pupils are dilated in fear, and his breaths are short and came out in heavy pants. The knight's while body is shaking and his knees feel like they would give out any time now. But they didn't.
Taking a few moments to take deep breath and compose himself. He thought over what happened, and it was downright terrifying.
Cullen has no idea what demons look and or sound like, but if he's going to describe the voice in one word, demonic is sure to come into mind. For a moment, he felt… emotions, memories, not his own and it scares him.
He could feel burning anger and desire for vengeance, that is not his own, and then there was confusion and self-loathing. If he thought it couldn't get any worse, warmth bloomed in his chest, but Cullen knows it's not his. Heat pooled at the pit of his stomach and travelled in his veins, but confusion and fear gnawed at him, and anger coursed in his veins again. There was just so much hatred that it left the templar dizzy and his knees finally gave out. He could hear voices, but one voice was louder than the rest. He gritted his teeth and tried to claw it his scalp, hoping, praying it will go away. Cullen cried out, his brain felt as if it is smashed by a mace and the urges were horrible. The urge to hurt and do it in the most painful way possible to a fellow human, overwhelmed Cullen, the desire—the need to cause pain and suffering is there, but it's not directed at templars, mages, or humans. For a moment, Cullen thought it was his own, but deep inside him, he knew it to be untrue. A face blurred in his mind's eye, and he is certain that he recognized this man. He tries to grasp at that bit of familiarity, hoping to know who this is. However, the memory won't solidify, and Cullen felt as if he was grasping at straws.
Just as quick as they came, the emotions began to fade away. The sensations they left in the man gone as well, but Cullen could feel an inkling of it, a small spark of anger, warmth, and fear. And he held on to it, he clung to the memory as if it was a lifeline and did not let go. When he was sure that the memory won't be lost soon, Cullen deemed it safe to compose himself and find out what happened and why; and when the world stopped spinning, Cullen shifted on one knee and stood up. He brushed off the bits of snow that clung to his armor. A taste of bitterness lingered in Cullen's mouth and he remembered what he is doing in the classrooms and why.
The red head gazed around the classroom. The ice on the floor turned into jagged icicles that reached the ceiling. The air is freezing and snow hid the bookshelves.
Snow crunched and Cullen's head snapped to the side. He managed to see a fleeting flash of blue robes by the icicles that lead to the stairs to the second floor. Warily, he followed whoever it was that was watching him and hoped that it wasn't a demon.
Cullen blanched when he saw bloody footsteps leading to the stairs. With narrowed eyes, the templar followed whoever it was, dodging the footsteps as he made his way.
The man expected to see the storerooms, and much to his surprise, the templar quarters was in sight.
He didn't like this, whatever this is. The walls are all torn down, leaving every room exposed except for one. Ice and snow covered every inch of the floor, and the stairs that are supposed to lead to the Harrowing Chamber are gone.
Cullen jumped back when he felt the ground began to rumble. The stairs going down crumbled, leaving frosted debris over the snow-covered the floor. The templar stepped away from the door and continued on his task of finding out who is watching him. The one room that was left with walls intact is on the farthest side of the floor. With a deep breath, Cullen followed the footsteps that led to it.
The air is frigid and it was blowing Cullen away. It felt a mage casted a blizzard on the floor and made sure it never ended. The templar tried to cleanse it, dispel the area even, but it did not dissipate. In fact, it only got worse.
Gritting his teeth, Cullen trudged on, braving the snow, storm, and cold. The door leading him to his destination seems so far away, but Cullen believes he can make it. He knows he will make it. He only needs to try harder.
Sheer determination kept him going, and he did. His boots would sink in the snow, and pulling them out on each step becomes harder and harder. Willpower kept him from faltering, and on each step he would renew his resolve as the hope to reach the end becomes greater and greater.
The moments that ticked felt like an eternity to Cullen, but he felt that it was worth it. The door to the room is right in front of him, and the bloody footsteps led inside.
Grasping the handle, Cullen was about to slam the door open, but a pale hand stopped him.
He looked to his left to see a pale face, framed with messy blonde hair, large blue eyes with dark circles beneath it, long and pointed ears, and a blank look gives his way. An elf…
"Save me."
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Cullen jolted up from his sleep, panting.
What in the Maker's breath was that? He wiped the sweat off his face and slumped down on his bed again, confused. He lied still, letting his wildly beating heart to calm down. Soon enough, his heart returned to a normal pace, and then Cullen stared upwards, his eyes beginning to adjust to the darkness of his room. A cool draft is entering the room through the open window.
The dream that woke him up seemed vivid and real, yet the details are now starting to escape him; bits and pieces are disappearing when he tried to remember them. The memories began to blur, and only a few images now remained.
Sighing, Cullen ran a hand over his wet hair and let his arm flop back down. He tried drifting back to his sleep, but there is a buzz at the very back of his mind. For one thing, he can't stop thinking about his dream. For another, he can feel fleeting fragments of some emotions. Anger and fear at the very forefront, then there is confusion mixing in as well. Another thing is the last he had seen in his dream.
He is definitely sure he had seen Lirenel Surana in his dream, and the elf's last words still echoed in his thoughts.
"Save me."
What does that mean? Is Surana in some sort of trouble? With the templars? With mages then?
Then again, it is a dream. It probably doesn't mean anything at all. Fade or not, it can't possibly be the work of Demons.
There are maleficars though. Cullen frowned. That's not very assuring…
He could always ask Maura.
Shutting his eyes, Cullen forced himself to relax and go back to sleep.
Five bells rang and Cullen groaned. Might as well go down…
Dragging his blankets off, Cullen started on fixing his bed. He finished his morning rituals and began to put on his armor.
After making sure that he is presentable, Cullen left his room and made sure he locked the door properly. He made his way to the Templar Dining Hall, knowing that a few cooks already cooked a few things for Templars with late-night and early-morning shifts.
Cullen bumped into a few Templars returning from their early-morning shifts, he greeted a few, and entered the dining hall alone. A few templars were in the hall at this hour, most were eating alone or with a few friends, only one table was full.
Taking a tray with a plate of eggs, broth, warm ale, and cottage pie, Cullen settled on one of the tables, eating in solitude. After finishing his meal, Cullen decided to explore the tower while it was still early.
His first shift is still a few hours away, and going back to sleep seem useless to him. Eating at a slow pace, Cullen wondered if when will see Maura or Lirenel at this hour.
He quickly brushed off that thought, of course he wouldn't. The two would still be asleep at this hour, and classes start at the nine, so no reason to seek them out.
Though, he can't stop but wonder why he ended up walking in the empty library. The door was unlocked but a pair of templars guarded it, they let him in without asking. The tables and shelves were bolted on the floor, and a few piles of books littered the floor. Cullen frowned, is the librarian not worried about her precious books gathering dust?
Walking towards the nearest pile, Cullen picked a tome. It was thick and the pages were nearly falling apart. Frowning, he tried to read a few doodles on the margins.
"Ser Pounce-a-lot stands victorious! Ser Pounce-a-lot swiped them with a might blow! Ser Pounce-a-lot defeats the mighty Greagoir!" A tiger swiping through chunks of templars is crudely drawn on the pages. Cullen's lips twitched, then he returned the tome back on top of the pile.
Shaking his head, Cullen went on to another pile instead.
"Beyond the Fade: A Study of How the Fade Affects Our Realm." Cullen flipped the book open.
Notes were written in the margins, they were very small and cramped. Cullen can barely read the tiny scrawls and he squinted to see more of the passages. He realized that the words were not written in the Common Tongue, it was written in a language that seemed vaguely Tevinter to him.
Snapping the book shut, Cullen returned it back to the pile. He decided to head to the classrooms instead and wait for his shift to start.
When he was about to leave, he bumped to a mage along the way. The person lost his balance and he was about to fall flat on his butt on the floor, but Cullen quickly grabbed the front of his robes, steadying the other. He lost his grip when he saw who it was.
"Lirenel! You're early!" Cullen gaped, he didn't expect the elf to be up this early.
Brushing off his robes, Lirenel stared at the older man with an eyebrow raised.
"Is it wrong to be awake early?" Cullen shook his head.
Smiling, Cullen decided that waiting for his next shift might not happen at all.
"No, no. Nothing wrong with waking up early. I was uhhh…" Damn you stammers. "why are you in the library? Other than to read of course! Isn't that a little too early? Not that its bad or anything… Well, I… er… Didn't expect you here."
"Maker, I ask you to judge me with your endless pride and punish me accordingly for my sins, as long as you answer my question. Why does my mind and mouth do not work cooperatively when I'm talking to Lirenel Surana?" And here Cullen thought the two finally found common ground when he talked to the elf two days ago when he accompanied him to the dormitories. Seems like he would need to get used to the idea of talking to Lirenel and try not to stammer as much.
"I'm always here at this hour." Lirenel had a small smile on his lips. The elf had a satchel with him, and then he began taking out a few small books, quills, parchment, and ink bottles. He piled his materials on a nearby table.
Cullen leaned on a nearby shelf, watching the elf methodically carry a pile towards his table.
"Don't try to get near the piles. The one to your left is Anders'; to your right is Eadric's." Cullen stared at Lirenel, confused.
"Huh?" was Cullen's intelligent reply.
"Each of the piles here has a certain owner. If a mage does not want anyone touching a certain book because they're not yet finished with it, they make a pile on the floor. They tell the librarian which is theirs and we get notices on who owns which." Oh. That made a bit of sense.
"Wouldn't Enchanter Ira… get mad? Isn't she crazy about taking care of books?"
"She is. As long as we take care of the books she lets us. As long as there is no damage, crumples, torn pages, and vandalism."
"Then why are your books full of extra notes on the margins?"
"As long as it is intelligent research, then it's fine." Lirenel's eyes were on his papers, taking notes once again. Cullen picked up the tome with the Ser Pounce-a-lot doodles. He walked right in front of the table Lirenel occupied. The elf looked up, looking at Cullen with a bored expression.
"How do you explain this?" He flipped the book open, showing the tiger attacking and slaying templars.
"It wasn't me I swear!" Lirenel said in a quiet laugh, and then he looked back at Cullen. He smile, and then something caught inside the templar's throat as he gazed at the hints of amusement in Lirenel's eyes.
His teeth were a little crooked, but Cullen thought it doesn't look bad at all. They weren't blindingly white, but they were obviously clean and well-taken care off. Then Lirenel's usually frosty blue eyes were bright and warm with mirth.
Cullen's breath felt short and thought that Lirenel should smile more often. He could feel his heart thumping irregularly and his stomach lurched. A smile began to form in Cullen's lips as well, and a warm flutter settled in his heart. His feet suddenly felt lighter, as if Cullen would float any minute now. His head was drifting in the clouds, as if lyrium was running in his veins.
Then the smile in Lirenel's face disappeared, the warmth and mirth in his eyes froze into cold indifference. A scowl etched deeply on his lips and he quickly returned to his studies.
As for Cullen, he felt the warmth forming in his chest freeze with cold dread. Despair gnawed at the very pit of his gut and he almost felt sick. The sudden mood change in Lirenel threw him off. Stumbling back, Cullen can't help but wonder why did the elf suddenly gave him a cold shoulder.
They have been going on fine a few moments ago, why did Lirenel suddenly… push him away? Feeling a little bit hurt, Cullen hung his head, but did not show his discomfort to the other.
"I… Well. I hope to see you later." Cullen saw Lirenel clench his fists, the items in his hands crumpled. His knucles were turning white and he looked back up to Cullen.
Cullen's breath hitched. Lirenel's eyes shone, and there was a silent plea in them.
Save me.
Cullen stared at Lirenel, stunned. However, deep inside him, he knew what to say, and he will say what he needs to because he believes he can do it, and he will see to it 'till the bitter end.
"I will."