"I still strongly advise against this, Neria," First Enchanter Irving warned as his eyes flicked over Neria. The elder mage feared for his favored pupil. Like a daughter to him, he wanted only for her to be safe - and he knew full well the rumors about the city of Kirkwall and it's Circle of Magi. It was no safe haven for mages. Try as he might, Neria Surana would not listen.
"I have to go, First Enchanter," Neria implored, her large, jade eyes pleading with the older mage.
"Why? Better for you to stay here where you are safe, where you are valued," Irving pleaded. "I have told you what I know of Kirkwall. I fear for you, child." He knew his signature would likely mean her death. Felt that if he signed his name, her blood - when it was eventually spilt - would haunt his hands until the day he died.
Neria placed a hand on the arm of the mage that had become a father figure to her during her years within the Circle, the man not unlike her true father in some ways. "And give up on a friend? A friend who made my days here a little brighter? A little more bearable? The first templar I had ever met that shared our beliefs?"
Irving let out a deep sigh; he knew that there would be no convincing her. Her stubbornness would be her undoing or her greatest asset where she was going. "Is this truly what you want?"
Neria's eyes were downcast at the man's question. "There is nothing left for me here…and I have to do something. I have to try."
His heart twisting at her sad words, Irving put his hand over hers that was still on his arm. "I am sorry for your loneliness, child."
Anger burned in his chest for her - her two closest friends, more like siblings, had abandoned her. One after betraying their friendship to use her for his own ends, the other for a reason unknown. Then his one hope that a rapport might finally be built between the mages and templars had been snuffed out by his one time friend, Uldred. Rising against the templars, turning to blood magic and using it to call demons forth, he had set back any progress made by years.
Irving thanked the Maker for Knight-Commander Greagoir's levelheadedness or they would all be dead now, but Uldred's actions had left behind scars. Though he felt for the boy, he had not been sorry to see the young templar named Cullen go. His once kind stance towards the mages had been utterly corrupted into fear and distrust, calling for harsher and stricter actions against his charges. Even going so far as to beat a few of the mages, though Neria was as of yet unaware. After a time in solitary confinement and a cooling off period, Greagoir had answered the younger templar's wish to be sent elsewhere.
Irving had breathed a sigh of relief, Neria and the boy's infatuation no longer harmless as Cullen treated her coldly, causing Neria even more pain than any girl her age should have had to endure in her young life. Irving also knew that the boy's troubles had not improved as only months ago his eldest sister had sent a letter inquiring of him - apparently, they had not heard word of him in years. That had been Greagoir's straw that convinced him to allow Neria to go - Greagoir had tried to harden the boy, but clearly whatever had happened to him during Uldred's revolt had gone too far. Despite Irving's protests, Greagoir had concluded that the one person that might draw him back from complete zealotry was Neria. What more pain would this girl have to endure?
Neria flashed a sad smile at Irving. "I'm not lonely."
Too wise to be fooled by such things and too old to care about impertinence, Irving leveled a look at the elven girl. "Neria, you have been lonely since you came to this tower." Neria's smile fell.
"I have never pressed you about your past nor how you came to be in that town square, but I know there is far more to you than you have ever told any of us." Her jade eyes glimmered with tears at his words and he let out another deep sigh.
"It is true that the boy was the first person I have ever seen reach past your defenses and bring out the true you. Solana got close, but she was always too caught up in her own problems to truly see yours. And Jowan," Irving practically spit the name.
"Clearly, I did not know that boy at all."
Neria was silent for a long moment, the tears in her eyes threatening to fall. "Just promise me one thing, Irving."
"What is it, child?" The elder mage let all his fatherly affection for the girl before him bleed into that question.
"Don't forget me," she breathed before she sprung a hug on the First Enchanter.
Stunned by such a gesture, tears sprung to the man's eyes. He patted her back awkwardly before she quickly pulled away, an embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "I will not, Neria."
With a chuckle he added, "I'll do one promise better, I will write you - often."
He would, if only to be assured that she still lived. Neria smiled broadly at him, her lovely face becoming exquisite at the warmth it brought to her features. Maker, protect this child from the darkness that awaits her in that city.
"Thank you, truly. That means the world to me," Neria clasped her hands in front of her as Irving scrawled his signature upon the parchment.
He noticed that Greagoir's signature was already there. With his signature dry, and the feeling that he had just doomed her not abated, he rolled up the scroll and sealed it. Handing it to her, the paper feeling like lead in his hand, she took it with a grateful smile and the light of hope in her eyes that had been absent for too long. Irving's gaze did not leave her even after she'd long been gone from his office. Within days, she would be on her way to Kirkwall and only the Maker knew what awaited her there.
A gasp escaping from between her lips, Neria couldn't help but gaze up at the bronze statues seated within the cliff faces as the boat sailed along the canal to Kirkwall's main gate. Templars stood to either side of her, both had been cold if civil as they all had become since Uldred's revolt. They were her escort to see that she made it to Kirkwall, but they would sail back to Ferelden once she was in the hands of Kirkwall's templars. Yet, even their demeanor changed as they passed into Kirkwall, the architecture and decorative statuary beyond anything they'd ever seen in Ferelden.
Neria had learned what she could of the city prior to her departure, knowing that the foundational structures had been a part of the Tevinter Imperium when the Imperium had ruled most of Thedas. Now, Kirkwall was a Free Marcher city-state, somewhat a nation of its own. It had become the sought refuge of Fereldans fleeing the Blight that had occurred nearly four years ago. The Blight had been ended within a year by then Warden and now Queen-Consort, Evelyn Cousland.
While many had returned to Ferelden once word had spread that the Blight had been ended, many had chosen to remain—to the people of Kirkwall's ire. The sheer amount of people within Kirkwall had swelled to the city's breaking point. Yet, Knight-Commander Meredith and First Enchanter Orsino had approved Neria's transfer. Did that mean Kirkwall's Circle of Magi—nicknamed "The Gallows"—had not suffered from the influx of people?
"We're nearly there, Surana," Knight-Captain Hadley stated, his helm causing his voice to sound tinny. "We were told the Knight-Captain would personally head up your escort."
"Why?" Neria questioned. "I chose to come here. Surely they do not think I would be foolish enough to try and escape? After how…persistent I've been?"
"You don't know, do you?" Ser Bran questioned, one of the few who had survived Uldred's revolt. Luck or the Maker responsible as he'd been on door duty, far away from where the revolt had begun in the tower and already within what had become the templar's refuge during the tragedy.
Unease pooled into Neria's stomach at Bran's words. Doubt and uncertainty pulling at her for the first time. "Know what?"
"Ser Cullen is the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall," Bran informed her.
That unease bloomed into confusion. Cullen the Knight-Captain? He was barely twenty-two! Neria wondered what he had done to earn such a promotion, even more so she wondered what kind of woman Knight-Commander Meredith was to trust such responsibility to so young and inexperienced a templar as Cullen. Sure, he'd faced demons and abominations, but that alone hardly qualified him for such a position.
Following Hadley and Bran off the ship, Neria took in her surroundings. The flags that unfurled in the salty breeze coming off the sea, the heraldry of the Gallows bold on the crimson fabric; the torches lining the walkway of the docks, the even paving stones beneath her feet. People milled about, far more than she would have thought for this being a Circle and the headquarters of the templars, but she had heard that a lot of trade occurred within the courtyard of the Gallows while on the ship. A final glimpse at the sea, Neria noticed that Hadley was leading them to the only entrance that wasn't gated off. Within it's awaiting maw stood a contingent of templars—far more than was necessary for one willing mage.
"Knight-Captain Hadley," a taut voice spoke.
Neria knew that voice, though it had been much kinder whenever it's owner had spoken to her before the horrors that had befallen Kinloch Hold. Nerves fluttering in her stomach, Neria slowly turned towards Cullen as he removed his helmet, keeping her head down as she observed him from beneath her lashes.
Shock lanced through Neria as she took him in: he was thin, his face sallow. Deep purple bruises of obvious exhaustion lay beneath his eyes, their light holding a haunted weariness that was beyond his years. He had aged since she'd last seen him, more a man now than a boy.
"Ser Cullen," Bran greeted. "Hear you were promoted?"
"That I was," Cullen gave a curt nod as he placed his helmet in the crook of his arm, his golden-brown eyes glancing between the two men.
"This is Knight-Captain Hadley," Bran gestured to his fellow templar. "Transferred after we lost—"
"—Congratulations," Cullen cut Bran off. "I'm afraid I've no time for pleasantries. We've several crises on our hands at the moment. I am to see this mage to the tower and then I am needed elsewhere."
Cullen gave a nod to Hadley. "Thank you for seeing that this mage arrived without attempting to escape."
"Erm…of course." Hadley was put off by the younger man's attitude. Bran had mentioned that Surana and the Knight-Captain had some sort of history, but had not described it in a way that sounded negative. Now, Ser Cullen would not even look at the young elven woman and seemed to insinuate that she was a danger. In the few years Hadley had been Knight-Captain, he'd learned Surana was many things, but troublesome was not one of them. In fact, Hadley felt she was an exemplary mage; one of the few he'd ever had charge over.
"You are to return to Ferelden?" Cullen questioned. Hadley nodded. "I suggest you do so immediately."
Hadley was nearing offense at the younger man's curt behavior until he added: "The city is unsafe at the moment. I would not see my fellow Fereldan's injured. Maker, grant you a safe journey home." Cullen offered a salute.
"Maker, guide your steps, Ser Cullen," Bran saluted before turning to Neria and placing a hand on her shoulder. "And yours, Surana. You will be missed in the halls of Kinloch."
Neria offered him a shy smile. "Thank you, Ser Bran. Maker, grant you a safe journey home." Neria was unaware of the reactions that their farewell was garnering. A few studied them in curiosity, a few others in envy that they could not have such a rapport with the mages in their charge, but a few looked upon their camaraderie with hatred and disgust.
Cullen felt distrust course through his veins as he observed the pair. Yet, as his brown eyes flicked to Bran's hand on Neria's slender shoulder, he was shocked to find one thing tighten his gut: longing. Fear and anger pulsed through him at the realization.
Cullen scowled when her eyes met his, internally chastising himself as she looked away, clearly hurt. It was not his fault. He had not asked her to come. In fact, he had tried everything he could think of to ensure that she couldn't come. Yet, he'd been overruled by not only Meredith, but Orsino, Greagoir and Irving. Now here she was, another complication to add to his already overflowing list.
The Qunari threat that was only increasing, rumors of a man butchering women after sending them flowers, political intrigue and the tensions between the mages and templars slowly escalating. But it was more than simply added complication as his eyes disobeyed and flicked over her beautiful form. He clenched his jaw.
How many sleepless nights had he been haunted by her face worn by the demon that tortured him? How many practice dummies had he unleashed his rage upon as thoughts of the blood mages' taunting came to mind? How many times did he have to look upon the scars that riddled his body from their torture before he would stamp out this attachment to her?
Yet, here she was, as beautiful as ever, pulling all he had worked so hard to bury deep inside to the surface. This was the last place he wanted her to be—not only for the difficulty it now brought him, but for the danger she was now in. Kirkwall was not Kinloch. Cullen knew then that he should have written to her, just once, to warn her away—he knew he should have broken her heart so thoroughly that she would have had no desire to be anywhere near him.
Neria's skin burned where Cullen's gaze bored into her and the unadulterated rage behind it. Worrying her lip as she looked back to Bran and Hadley where they were making their way onto the ship, she had the fleeting desire to run after them and demand to return to Ferelden. Shaking her head, she set her face forward. This was where she was meant to be.
As Neria stared at the back of Cullen's head, following he and the other templars further into the Gallows, she narrowed her eyes vowing as she did so that she would not be deterred. No matter how hard he pushed her away, she would push harder. Buried beneath all his anger, the boy she knew was still there and she was determined to help set him free.
Another gasp escaping from her lips, Neria felt her whole body go cold as they entered the courtyard. Everywhere her eyes landed, statues of tortured slaves met her gaze. Not monuments to the pain endured, but graphic depictions of what the Tevinter people had done to the slaves they'd brought here. Horror and sorrow clawed at Neria's heart, along with a nagging suspicion that the statues had been left on purpose—a testament to what awaited any mage that stepped out of line.
As Cullen led them through the courtyard, Neria kept her head down, but looked around from beneath her lashes. The first thing she noticed was the amount of Tranquil. There'd only been a handful at Kinloch, all having gone through the Rite of Tranquility because they chose to; here, the number was unnerving. Blank stares, emotionless faces and angry brands were dotted all over.
Elsewhere, merchants could be heard haggling over prices, Fomari had stalls where enchanted items were being sold. Templars were everywhere—even though Irving had mentioned that their numbers were low in Kirkwall, the size of the Gallows called for a larger garrison than most towers.
The templars here were not coldly civil, but emanated hardness and unapproachability to Neria. They saluted Cullen as he passed, leading the group up a large flight of carved steps. More statues of suffering slaves met Neria's eyes as they ascended, the stairs ending at a smaller courtyard shrouded in shadows. A gate was before them, the Gallows stretching towards the sky above, bronze bird-like statues to either side and endless limestone all around.
"Raise the gate!" Cullen barked to the templar standing next to the winch.
The young man leapt to action, quickly raising the gate for them to pass through. Cullen could feel Neria's eyes upon him, but he refused to acknowledge her. She was a charge like all the others within the tower—to be watched, to be locked up.
As Neria entered the mage courtyard, her unease only grew. The mages within froze in what they were doing as their group passed though, staring at Cullen and the others with unveiled hatred or fear.
Cullen kept his eyes focused straight in front of him, ignoring the looks of the mages as he passed. More templars were standing guard, some barked for the mages to keep moving.
Neria noticed as one templar shoved an elderly woman who looked terrified. The woman tripped and fell close to where Neria was passing by, causing Neria to stop and try to help her up.
A templar that was escorting Neria grabbed her arm painfully and shoved her forward. "Keep moving." Neria tried to go back to the woman, but the templar shoved her harder. "Do as you're told mage, or do you want your first day here to earn the Knight-Commander's distrust? You're not in Ferelden anymore. Here, you will learn your place."
"Is there a problem?" Cullen asked.
He had heard a commotion and turned to find one of his templars dragging Neria by the arm before getting in her face. He did not dissuade rough treatment, unless it went too far. He noticed one of the older mages cowering on the ground. Putting the pieces together, he surmised that the older mage had tripped—or been pushed—and Neria had tried to help her. The templar, in a show of force, had prevented Neria from doing so.
"No, Ser," the templar stated. "This mage was trying to escape."
Neria furrowed her brow. "I was doing no such thing. I was trying to help this woman to her feet, unlike your templars."
"Shut your mouth, mage!" The templar shouted, raising a hand to strike Neria.
Despite himself, Cullen saw red. "Templar!" He barked, his voice so commanding he noticed a few of his brethren flinch. "You will lower your hand. Now."
"Knight-Captain?" The templar questioned. "She was trying to run. Now open defiance? That deserves punishment, Ser."
"Surana," Cullen ordered, his gaze fierce upon Neria, but daring to falter as her jade eyes met his. "Help the woman up then resume your position. Do not step out of line again." Cullen watched as Neria bent to the elderly mage and helped her stand. He looked upon the display with impatience, shoving away his pity. The elderly woman, Inara, was kind and never caused trouble, but she was still a mage. Cullen watched Neria's full lips as she murmured words of comfort. An odd sensation in his gut at Inara's answering timid smile. He couldn't take his eyes off Neria, her beauty threatening to steal his breath. Anger rising, nightmares flashing, he turned his back to her. His voice harsh when he spoke, "Surana. Back in line."
"Yes, Knight-Captain," Neria hissed.
Cullen did not miss the bite in her words. Maker, why did she have to come?
As Neira rejoined the templars, listened to the anger in Cullen's voice, felt the hateful glare of the templar that had been about to strike her and saw the fear in her fellow mages' eyes, Neria knew nothing about this was going to be what she had hoped…or planned. She had not been foolish enough to think it was going to be easy or even enjoyable. Instead, as they passed through the courtyard and entered the tower proper, Neria was assured of only one thing.
She was now in the pit of the Abyss itself.