Notes: Thank you, Kira Tamarion for beta-reading my story. You are great and I love you so much! Thanks for the help! XD Also thank you Ventisquear for your lovely reviews~ XD I really appreciate them! Your feedback is greatly appreciated~
Chapter 5. Dun. Dun. Duuuuunnnn... Well...
My 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.
Also, this chapter contains sensitive material, involving rape, emotional, physical, and sexual abuse. If you are uneasy about these themes, you can stop reading.
Enjoy.
EDIT: 06-08-2012 - I edited a few passages to make sure this isn't NC-17.
Blizzard
Chapter Five
Lirenel did not look up from where he sat. His gaze remained firmly on the stone floor. He did not shudder as cool air raised goose bumps on his skin. His robe was thrown carelessly over the bed next to him, and his boots were in front of the door.
"Hey, I heard about what happened in the library." Still, the elf did not look up. He knows his captor's tone is gentle, but he is not fooled. He had known his unwanted companion for a long time, and he will never be fooled.
'But you were fooled from the start. Now, you can't run, and no one will help you.'
"I'm sorry about that. You really should be more careful when you're in the library. It could have toppled over you!" Lirenel's eyes hardened. He refused to meet the gaze of the other occupant of the room, he knows that he is asking for trouble, but Lirenel doesn't care.
'It's your fault you bastard. It's your fault, and you know it.'
A new weight dipped on the bed, and an arm snaked around Lirenel's shoulders. The elf stiffened, the urge to strangle the man beside him stirred, but he quickly crushed it.
An image of his abuser's dead and broken body flashed in his mind and he wondered how sweet it would be to swipe that grin off his face. He imagined the pungent smell of a rotting body flaring in his nostrils, and sweet blood drying on the floor. Flesh strewn in a bloody mess, limbs twisted in dangerous angles, innards pulled at haphazardly as it dangled over a mangled torso, face frozen in eternal fear—all these filled Lirenel's head as he imagined the older man's unfortunate demise at his hands.
'You can easily kill him. You have the power to do it. There is magic thrumming deep beneath your skin, all you need is ask.'
And yet, Lirenel knew that his efforts would be in vain. He is a mage, the person he hates the most in the world is a templar. No matter what spell Lirenel would try to cast, it would cleansed, then the templar would smite him for even trying.
And he hated it. He hates this feeling of utter helplessness every time he is within the vicinity of this bastard. He wanted to see the life leave his eyes and that smug grin on his face scream in pain and fear. Lirenel wanted to scream and tear his hair out in despair. He wanted to hurt and cause pain just to ease his own. He wanted to cry and rage to the heavens, screaming his hatred and anger to the Maker. He wanted to curse everyone for letting him suffer and burn everything and everyone, but he can't.
The older man pulled him into an embrace, Lirenel tensed.
"I'm so sorry for hurting you. I never meant that to happen." A soft kiss planted on the elf's temple.
'Liar.'
Lirenel clenched his fists, his knuckles were white, his nails broke his skin, and blood seeped through the cracks. Lirenel took a deep breath and did not lean in or push the templar away.
"I want to make it up to you." Then his mask of indifference broke. His burning rage was quickly replaced by freezing fear.
Tears blurred his vision and bile burned his throat. His whole body was shaking and he can feel his heart beating fast. Lirenel's vision was spinning and he was getting dizzier. Cold seeped into his stomach and his breath came out in short and strangled gasps. He wanted to scream, but his cries would be silenced.
"No… please… Not tonight… Please, I can't—"
"Shhh… Shhh… It's going to be okay. I'm here; I'll keep you safe. I will always protect you, I promise."
Whimpering, Lirenel tried to pull away, his hands pushed against the templar's chest, but they were futile. The arm around his shoulder wound up on his neck, and his back tensed against the templar's chest. Lirenel's hands held on to the arm holding him on a near-choke, trying to pull them away. The templar's hold on him is far too strong and the arm around the elf's neck tightened.
"Don't squirm around too much." A hint of impatience was in the templar's voice, but Lirenel no longer cared if he aggravated his human companion. All that mattered now is to get away as far as he can.
Tears streamed down Lirenel's face as he continued to struggle. He tried to call for help, but another hand muffled his cries. Still, he continued to call out, but calloused hands smothered his voice. The elf tried clawing at the arms of his captors, his nails digging and breaking skin, leaving traces of blood. The templar tightened his hold, suffocating the mage.
"Don't make this harder than it already is." The templar's voice was rising, and Lirenel knew he is angry, but it won't stop him for trying to get away.
He continued to struggle and claw at the larger man's arms, but they were all in vain. The templar adjusted his position so that Lirenel sat on his lap.
Lirenel froze. His world was spinning, his throat burns, and the blood in his veins turned to ice. Fear blossomed at the pit of his heart and a scream of anguish wanted to tear out from his throat. His eyes were wide and he trashed around the templar's grasp. His heart was pounding against his ears and pain hammered against his skull. Lirenel was unable to suppress his violent shudder. He tried digging his heels on the templar's limbs, but the older man made no sign that it hurt him at all. Lirenel's nails dug harder, bits of skin and blood stuck to his nails.
Disgust and shame swept through Lirenel as he felt the heat of the human's perversion
"Stop it!" The templar was snarling; his arm clamped hard on Lirenel's throat.
Lirenel could feel the air entering his lungs cut off, he tried gasping out for oxygen, but the man's hands clamped his mouth harshly. Healing magic pumped automatically to ease the bruises forming around his mouth and throat. His lungs were burning, and fire mixed with ice that swept through Lirenel's veins that left him in agonizing pain.
Lirenel could see black spots entering his vision, and his struggles slowly subsided. The pain numbed away and left him feeling empty. The pounding of his heart slowed dangerously, and his hold on the templar's arm loosened. Lirenel could feel himself floating away, his eyes slowly fluttered shut as tears continued to fall. His body turned limp and he leaned down weakly against his will.
'It's better this way,' he thought. His arms fell uselessly to his side and his eyes fluttered shut. He feels like he was floating away, and he hoped that he wouldn't be dragged back to the ground.
Images of Maura, Jowan, and Irving flashed in his head, but they began to float away. Memories and emotions floated deep within his mind, but he felt them fleeing from his grasp. His hold on his own body loosened, and he was floating away.
It felt good. His troubles and worries turning into dust in the wind. A voice inside his head was screaming that it wasn't over yet, he still has unfinished business in this world and his time isn't over yet. Yet he doesn't want to deal with everything anymore. He was just so tired, resting is just within his grasp, and he can finally sleep away in peace. All he had to do was to give in, and it would be over.
Then he came crashing down. He started gasping for air and he was thankful for the sweet oxygen that entered his lungs. His heart began beating frantically and adrenaline rushed in his body. His hands quickly held on his throat, massaging them and using healing magic to ease the burning. Tears continued to stream down his face, and the pain returned and nearly knocked the wind out of him. His tongue felt heavy and large, any attempt at talking is difficult.
"I'm sorry! Maker, no! I didn't mean that! I'm sorry! Please Nel, forgive me…" Lirenel froze.
He couldn't bear look at the templar behind him, fear gnawed at his gut again, and it made him cold and dull of dread. Lirenel dared not to struggle again, fearing that his captor would punish him once more.
Lirenel did not struggle as the templar began to press kisses on his neck. He did not dare move as the human's lips lowered and continued to bite and suck that left small red marks around his neck and throat. His mind began to close around him, retreating to a deep chasm that will protect him from the shame, disgust and regret that he will be feeling later. He did not show any signs of defiance as the templar laid him on the bed reverently, with kisses full of lust and love trailing down his torso.
Cold raced down Lirenel's back as rough hands undid his small clothes. Lirenel did not even clench his fists as the templar's continued on his wicked act of degrading and humiliating him. Lirenel only stared dully ahead, drawing away from the reality and seeking refuge within his own mind. His body endured the shame and humiliation and his eyes can only stare unseeingly ahead.
When the templar was done, Lirenel was still trapped within his own mind. However, clarity returned to his eyes as the older man pressed kisses to his neck. Pain racked his body, the most having come from the very base of his spine.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." The templar chanted apologies in a reverent mantra; guilt is obvious in his voice. Tears were streaming down his face as he embraced Lirenel in a seemingly sincere show of apology and affection.
Lirenel looked away, unable to look at the now pathetic looking human.
Lirenel felt confusion and uncertainty creeping in his heart. It clenched painfully and his head throbbed in confusion.
He made no move to comfort the templar, but he made no move to pull away either.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Lirenel ate his potatoes in small bites, relishing the taste and the gravy that coated it. Maura and Jowan discussed Lirenel's Harrowing, which will hopefully be a few years later.
Not that he is worried about his Harrowing; Lirenel is only a little worried that should he pass, he would be transferred to a different Circle instead.
Soon enough, they have to leave, Lirenel's food is almost gone and his hunger sated. Too bad the kitchens ran out of fresh fruit. Shipments were having problems; there were whispers of a great disaster. The Circle's supplies aren't scarce yet, but if Ferelden's problem isn't solved in the next three years, they will be having problems with food, magical items, and equipment. For now, mages and templars only worry with escape attempts, blood magic, and tearing each other's throats in frustration.
When the three finished eating, they continued to talk.
"Someone disturbed my pile again." Jowan's voice was petulant and childish, but Maura found it humorous.
Lirenel snorted.
"It must have been Enchanter Ira. She wasn't happy when she found the food you left between the pages."
Jowan pouted.
"It wasn't food! It was dried elfroot, I swear!" Jowan threw up his arms in the air in exasperation, Maura and Lirenel sighed.
"It left stains on the text. You really did it again Jowan." Maura shook her head with a 'tsk'.
Then Jowan stopped.
"I forgot something at the chapel! I'd be right back!" Jowan ran off towards the stairs, his robe flapped wildly, exposing his hairy limbs. He tripped.
Lirenel chuckled and Maura stifled a giggle, watching as Jowan picked himself up off the floor and resumed running.
A templar came into view, striding towards the two of them hurriedly. The two apprentices stopped; tense, waiting to see if the templar intends to communicate with them. The air grew heavy and the sound of metallic footfalls on cold stone echoed in the halls. When the templar reached the two, he stopped right in front of Lirenel then pulled out a piece of parchment.
Lirenel took it, and then the templar walked away without another word. When the templar disappeared from the vicinity, the tension in the air lifted and small noises returned to the backdrop of the hall.
'Tonight.' Lirenel paled, he quickly pocketed the note, his hands shook and sweat formed in his forehead.
His temples throbbed and his heart was pounding against his ears.
"What does it say?" Maura asked, her eyes shone with worry.
"It's nothing… I… It's nothing." Maura wasn't convinced. She gave him a sharp stare.
Fidgeting, Lirenel tried to ease his racing heart. He quickly tried to think for an excuse, so that Maura would stop asking.
"Irving handed me a project. It's nothing really. He just wanted me to compile my research about the Fade and lyrium grown plants." Maura continued to stare at him unblinkingly; Lirenel stared back with a blank expression.
Neither stood down as they continued to stare at one another intensely, their gazes never strayed, and it felt as if an eternity passed before one broke off from the stare down.
Maura looked away and sighed; weariness and exhaustion shrouded her countenance. "Lirenel, you and I know that's a lie. You already compiled that, remember?"
Lirenel cursed inwardly, he forgot about that, but he can still twist it. "I had to edit a few passages. Irving said that the Chantry might censor my research, so I will rephrase plenty of my text."
Maura sighed. "And what could possibly be controversial that the Chantry would want to censor it?"
"Blood-related theories, they might end up thinking its Blood Magic." That wasn't untrue, however that was what Irving suggested when he presented the theory a month before.
Maura narrowed her eyes, and then sighed. Her shoulders slumped and exhausted lines around her face formed. "I won't ask, but please… If you need any help, we'll always be here for you."
Lirenel looked away, guilty and ashamed. He had always felt bad for lying to Maura. The guilt and shame that fills his heart and soul never eased, even after all those years…
Shaking his head out of his reverie, Lirenel took another deep breath. "I'm sorry. I… I'll see you in the morning."
Walking away, Lirenel headed off the opposite direction, towards the stairs, to the templar quarters.
For all the years since this complicated life of his began, he wished he could have told Maura.
'But it's too late for that now.'
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
Lirenel's legs were up to his chest. His robes pulled up a bit, exposing a bit of his legs. His face was pressed to his knees, curling further into himself.
"Here, take it." Lirenel looked up, and gave the templar a blank look.
A stick of candied apple was a few inches away from his face.
He gazed at the black-haired human warily, wondering what he wanted now. Thankfully, he did not order Lirenel to strip, and Lirenel is thankful for the reprieve. Perhaps, it was an advantage that the templar seeks him every other night, but he was always so rough on Lirenel, that his activities have lasting side effects. However, Lirenel was starting to have problems with walking, with the way the older man would treat him whenever the templar wanted to relieve stress. Blocking out the pain with Entropy helped him, but he can't do it every time after the abuse.
Entropy can only do so much for long as maintaining magic with mana is a difficult task, and keeping other templars from noticing that he has been using magic is even harder.
Looking back at the offered confection, Lirenel tried to discern the human's intentions. His eyes were narrowed and a scowl fitted his face. The offered candy looked innocent enough. He looked up, trying to read the templar's face.
His offer seemed genuine enough, the concern in his eyes looked true, and the determined frown on his mouth did not look fake either. Still, there had been occasions that the human pretended to be genuine in his efforts, and Lirenel suffered horribly on these instances. However, there were…
Lirenel hesitated.
There were instances where his offers were true. Those instances were times when the templar did not ask for anything in return. They were few and Lirenel could count those instances without going over twenty, but in these moments…
He believed.
He truly did believe that the older man's display of affections were true and real. He had believed that the man wanted him. He had truly believed that the man cared and loved him. He had believed that the man never took him against his will, never took advantage of everything he did, and the emptiness and the horrendous suffering he receives did not happen.
Whenever these instances appear, the rage and bitterness gnawing at his soul eased.
And when the templar would take him, he does it as gently as possible that leaves Lirenel reeling and more confused than ever.
Tentatively, he took the offered apple, looking at the fruit at different angles, searching for any signs of tampering or poison. Sniffing the item a bit, he decided it was safe.
He took a bite.
It was so sweet. The taste lingered on his mouth and slid on his throat smoothly. It was a strange thing, but he is sure that the templar did not poison him.
He smiles hesitantly, but his expression quickly turns into horror.
'It wasn't poisoned,' Lirenel realized. The templar had smote him. And the sweet fruit? It was laced with lyrium.
His magic turned against him, hostile spirit energy raced down from his mouth, down to his throat right before settling deep in his chest and the pit of his stomach. It was horrible. He could feel his connection to the Fade disappearing, but he knows that he isn't truly cut off from the realm.
Sick with horror and revulsion, Lirenel shot up, but a wave of dizziness and pain stopped him. He fell back to the bed facing up, his back arched painfully and he bit his tongue to keep the scream that formed in his mouth from escaping. He couldn't feel his limbs, and his mouth felt too large for his mouth. His nerves were on fire and his whole body was shaking. His lungs can't get any more air, and his pounding heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest.
Unable to endure the pain any longer, a scream formed in his throat, ready to be released, but a hand smothering his mouth cut off his cries of anguish. Tears streamed down Lirenel's face as burning pain ravaged his whole body.
'Please! Oh Maker! Stop!'
But his pleas to the Maker did not move the God. The templar tore off the laces of his robe harshly. Lirenel tries to bite the hand, but it tightened into a vice-like grip. Nails were digging into his cheeks, breaking the skin and thick drops of blood mixed with tears. Then the hand disappeared, and Lirenel was coughed, reaching to his cheeks, hoping to ease the bleeding. His muscles screamed; he like knives stabbed his arms with his sudden movement. He groaned, his flesh throbbing and aching with pain.
A gasp of fear and pain escaped his lips when his robe was pushed down. He grabbed the material, attempting to save whatever shred of dignity he had, but it was all in vain. He distinctly felt rough hands flipping him to his back. He flailed his arms, hoping to hit the human, but the man captured his wrists and held it above Lirenel's head.
He wanted to hide, retreat to the chasm that he created for himself when he finds reality too much of a nightmare. But he couldn't, he had been using magic to 'go away', and now that it was denied from him, he can't escape.
He wanted to scream as he felt every bit of dignity and control he had slipped away. Lirenel shook, not sure if it's due to rage, pain, or fear. Betrayal is far in his mind, but he should have known. He really should have known that it would end up this way. However, it's too late for that now. It has been far too late to regret anything, far too late to turn this situation around and—
"Ah! No! Please, I—mmph!" Lirenel choked as the templar's other hand clamped around his mouth, silencing his cries.
Shame and anger arose; the utter incapability of helping himself fuelled his self-resentment. He could have saved himself any time he wanted. He could have killed the templar and be done with it. Had he killed the templar the first time, he wouldn't be suffering from humiliation and the horrible experience of being violated over and over again.
'Yes, you should have. Such a shame you still refuse."
But still…
No matter how much he wanted to, Lirenel could never bring himself to. No matter how he imagined the templar's horrible and gruesome death, there will always be that little part of him niggling, screaming 'No!' and a part of him would feel horrible for even thinking of it.
He had never felt so confused in his life. However, that—
A jolt of agony raced from the base of his spine, fire coursing from his back then to his head.
He wanted to scream so badly, but he couldn't.
He can only wish for someone to save him.
Then it was gone, it was over. Relief flooded Lirenel, but it was short-lived as every cell in his body screamed in agony. His throbbing and aching muscles were a reminder of the horrible act that transpired. He was shaking horribly, every inch of his nerves burned. However, it was all over now, he's safe, even for now.
Tears continued to stream down his face, mixing with his blood, staining the white sheets of the templar's bed. His breath came out in short gasps, mixing with broken sobs. Shame burned his lungs and heart, every inch of his skin was filthy, and his very soul and essence was a dark chasm full of demons instead of light and the will of the Maker.
Lirenel curled into himself, shielding himself away from the templar. He tried to silence the sobs escaping from his lips, even if it would just to ease his burning throat, but he couldn't stop.
The bed shifted, and he felt a pair of hands cradling him against a toned chest. He recoiled, but he was held firmly in place, incapable of summoning the strength and will to pull away. Lirenel's body sagged in defeat and exhaustion, but he would not take comfort in the templar's fake display of affection.
Slowly, his eyes drooped against his will, and the bit of light left in him hoped and prayed for a savior. The misery that clung to him eased a bit as lighter thoughts formed in his mind.
Perhaps one day, someone will save him, and he wouldn't have to suffer between the bouts of utter misery and the confused and obviously misplaced affection.
A man with red hair, a young face, donned in templar came into mind. A small smile formed in his lips, but it did not fade away like most good things that happened in Lirenel's life.
"Cullen…"
Thwack!
Blue eyes snapped open, wide with shock.
"He's the initiate, right? You have been meeting with him haven't you?"
Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit! He didn't mean to say that out loud!
"No! I, remember bumping into him and it was an accident—I swear, I'm not—I'm not seeing him—"
Slap!
"I don't believe you! After everything I did for you, this is how you repay me? I should have—"
Lirenel eyes shifted frantically, between the door to his freedom then to the human. His eyes were wide in fear as horrible dread settled on the pit of his stomach.
"Ahh!" He was pushed back the bed, his face smothered over the pillow, suffocating his cries. Hands steadied his hips, and the fire of agony and shame flared.
He was screaming and sobbing, he doesn't know. He was begging and pleading too, but he can't hear his own voice or feel anything else except for the pain that his body suffered.
However, the templar's words rang true and it slicked in his ears like poison.
He can hear them, vaguely aware, but he understood. The need to rebel arose, but he temporarily squashed it down. In a sick sort of way, he knows he had a bit of power against the templar and made him suffer temporarily from this small bout of jealousy.
He can hear the insults pour off the human's mouth, and it hurt. No matter how many times he heard it, it always hurt him. He knows a part of it is true. No one would want him. No one would ever bother with him. And the templar's next words created a wound that is far too deep that it created another chasm in his already scarred and broken heart.
"Not even Cullen will want you."
Lirenel bit his lips, and knew his tormentor's words to be true. Cullen wouldn't want him, should he find out what Lirenel does when no one is looking. He can't ever hope to catch the attention of one of the purest people he met with his taint.
Lirenel sobbed, as he clenched the blankets and no longer able to feel his abuser batter and break his body.
He fell into oblivion.
-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-
His eyes searched the halls, hoping his human demon isn't present.
Sensing that the coast is clear, Lirenel stepped out of the kitchen. He barely made it a few feet away right before bumping into someone. He was pulled into balance before he can fall. However, the materials he was carrying fell on the floor into an ungraceful heap.
It seems that fate has a nasty sense of humor.
He bumped into a templar. It wasn't just any templar. It was Cullen.
'Of all the people…' Lirenel thought, exhausted. He feels horrible, sweat made his robes sticky, and a well-placed entropy spell kept the scent hidden.
He desperately wants a bath now. However, his exhaustion and exasperation kept him from quickly picking up his possessions.
"I'm sorry about that. I… er… Here! Let me help!" Cullen stammered. Lirenel let a blank expression on his face, however his mind was a whirlwind of chaos.
Is his abuser around? How did Cullen find him? Did Greagoir send Cullen off into another chore because he is currently arguing with Irving and can't do it himself? is his meeting with Cullen on purpose or coincidence? Will the black-haired templar who loved to torment him notice?
Sighing mentally, Lirenel replied, "That's okay."
Cullen quickly dropped down to pick up his items. He frowned, not expecting the templar to really help him at all, let alone carry everything for him.
"You don't have to carry all of them." What could Cullen possibly gain from helping him? Then again, Cullen isn't the brightest knight in the lot, but there are worse templars. Carroll is a good example of how screwed up templars can be.
He did not clench his eyes shut, but he tried to block out thoughts concerning his personal affair with another templar.
"It's alright. I… er… bumped into you. So it's my fault, really! I should help." Lirenel stared at Cullen, unsure of his motives.
Sighing, Lirenel let Cullen do as he wishes. It can't be that bad, right?
"I'm going back to the dormitories. Will you really carry these for me?"
"It's no problem at all. Besides, my next shift starts in an hour, so I'm not immediately needed somewhere."
Lirenel nodded and led the way.
He hoped that their interaction would be quiet, but he was mistaken. Cullen asked many inane things, but the templar thankfully did not prod once Lirenel tells him to back off. However, when Cullen isn't satisfied with his limited use of his wide vocabulary, he would add in a few details just to keep Cullen from asking.
When he had asked about Maura and her relationship with Cullen, Lirenel felt… relieved, and he was a little confused why.
He decided not to dwell on those thoughts and simply focused on the present instead.
At one point, they had to hide in an alcove to avoid looking friendly, and then they resumed their trek to the dormitories.
When the two arrived, Lirenel quickly headed for his trunk, before pointing out to Cullen that the bed next to it is his. He quickly organized his items then stored them into the chest. Rummaging, he grabbed his sleeping robes and toiletries.
Cullen is a little persistent, but Lirenel found himself not minding. There is something that is just so… honest about Cullen, that he found it impossible to hate the templar.
Cullen glowed.
Not in the way that he creates blight flares against the Veil. Cullen glowed with something Lirenel saw in children, a few of the other mages, plenty of the other templars, and he can't help but feel horrible for being near him. Cullen reminded him of Maura, a bit of Jowan, Wynne, and many others.
Sighing, Lirenel headed to the bathing chambers, his basket held with both arms.
He shut the screen to the tub tight, too bad there weren't any locks. Buckets of water sloshed on the tub, heated with magic. Lirenel stripped, and then folded his robe neatly and placed it on the stool. His small clothes followed next then he stepped into the water.
Not many male apprentices love taking baths, preferring their 'masculine musk' and 'the smell of a man'. As for Lirenel, he can never seem to get clean.
No matter how much he tried, how hard he scrubbed, or how red and raw his skin ends up, he can never be clean.
His pale skin will always have thin scars adorning them. Clean cuts crisscrossed his arms, and bruises and scratches littered his back. Red marks vandalized his neck and collar, a crude and uncivilized show of ownership.
Lirenel sighed and relaxed, letting the water soothe the ache that accumulated from the last three days ease away. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind away from reality, away from the living nightmares, away from his worries, his insecurities, friends, that blasted templar, and Cullen.
The screen to the chamber slid open, Lirenel quickly pulled his knees to his chest to give himself a semblance of dignity and braced for the intruding apprentice.
It wasn't an apprentice.
Lirenel paled, wondering how in Thedas did that bastard know he would be here?
Lirenel looked away, hiding his scowl.
The templar sighed, seemingly tired and exhausted just as Lirenel was. "Tonight." Then he left, shutting the screen quietly.
Lirenel gritted his teeth in frustration. Of course, how can he forget their weekly meeting? Sure, he does need a reminder every now and then.
Letting out a huff of frustration, Lirenel massaged his temples, and then he sagged on the tub, exhausted and defeated.
'No peace for the tormented', he thought bitterly.
He did not know how long he stayed in the tub, but he realized that it was already late when the golden light of the sun turned into the pale hue of the moon.
The elf stepped out of the bath, skin a little red, raw, and his fingers were wrinkly for the time he spent in the water. He quickly dried himself with a tower and dressed into his sleeping robes.
When he stepped out, he carefully cast a few Entropy spells to turn his scars invisible. He quickly stored his used robes into the laundry basket and returned to his bed.
He waited. He did not sleep, and when the time came, Lirenel sat up, thankful for the darkness that concealed everyone in the dormitories.
Templars are human beings, capable of mistakes, vulnerability, and lack of judgment. When they are exhausted, they drop their guard and that leaves them open for attacks.
Much like now.
Gathering mana, he cast a sleeping spell, willing it more power as a few of the templars recognized it. He let the spell affect everyone in the dormitory, except him, leaving them all trapped in a sleep that will last for hours.
He left the quarters, entering through a secret passage that will lead him to the templars' quarters.
It was hours later when Lirenel returned.
And when he returned, he was hurt, defeated, broken, and utterly exhausted that he fell flat on his bed, curling into himself. He clenched his fists, unable to sleep peacefully. And when he did fall into unconsciousness, he received no sanctuary.
Demons greeted him in the Fade, tempting him with power, trying to appeal to his wishes, and trying to fuel his rage and thirst for vengeance.
He blocked them out, refusing everything they wanted to give, refusing to let them win. He has no power in the world of living; he will not be powerless in the Fade as well. He refuses to be reduced into an empty puppet whose strings can easily be tugged.
He will defy demons in the Fade if he cannot defy the monsters in the Mortal realm.
Then the demons ran, recoiling in pain as bright light descended upon them. In the Fade, Lirenel tilted his head to one side, confused why they escaped. He shivered; a cool breeze blew over him.
He gazed at the light that sent the demons away, fascinated by the radiance and warmth its aura carried. Hesitantly, Lirenel backed away into a tree in the Fade. He knows it was not real, but he leaned on it anyway, for support.
The light neared him, but he looked away, not understanding why a benevolent element would want to keep company with him. He is a tainted soul; he deserves less than everyone he meets. Why would anyone want to help him?
'I'll save you,' the spirit said, and Lirenel felt the damn holding in his emotions break.
He cried, letting his grief, shame, anger, and all of the poison he carried in his soul out. The spirit descended upon Lirenel, embracing him, warming his tired and weary heart and soul.
It cannot heal the wounds, but it can only offer comfort for now. However, that doesn't mean that there is no hope.
"Please… Please… Save me."