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Hoping One Day We'll Make A Dream Last	By : kruemel Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 3679 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Dragon Age and the characters of the game do not belong to me. This is a no profit fanfiction

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
Thick mist rose from the dark waters of the lake, the tower of mages rising from the fog like a skeleton finger, pale and cold. As the small boat drew closer the mist parted, revealing the black opening of the grot, a gaping hole like a monster's mouth opened to greedily swallow the pitiful young mages.
"It's not as terrible as it appears on first sight," I lied, shifting uneasily on my seat until Rori gently squeezed my hand. She was even more upset about the children's fate than me. The tower of mages had made her uneasy from the very first moment she had entered it. Sure, then it was crammed from first floor to the top with demons, blood mages, and abominations, but her feelings hadn't changed when introduced to the mages' everyday life. I had known before due to my templar training what it meant for a mage to be brought to the tower. But never before had it been a personal affair. Those mages I had accompanied for training, they had been strangers. These two kids I knew, if only briefly, and I couldn't help feeling utterly sorry for them.
And I had thought being dragged away to the monastery was terrible! Compared to what now awaited Connor and Amalia, the abbey suddenly lost its terror. Suddenly I felt quite foolish for having pampered my self-pity for more than ten years about my dreadful fate. Yeah, sometimes thinking outside the box gives you a whole new perspective.
"It's alright, your Majesty. I deserve to be punished," Connor replied sadly.
"Bullshit!" Rori snorted fiercely. "What happened in Redcliffe was an accident, Connor." My sentiments exactly. Connor was consumed by remorse and self-contempt, convinced his life wasn't worth living. Stripped of everything childlike, he would forever be haunted by his guilt. There was no worse punishment than the one he sentenced himself to.
"Accident or not, they are dead and it is my fault," Connor whispered, tears welling up in his eyes. Maker help this boy! I prayed one day he could forgive himself. His shoulders slumped, Connor sat at the bow of the boat, his face ashen, wearing an expression of raw hopelessness. He didn't react when his heartbroken father put his hand on his shoulder, but instead kept staring at the monster's mouth. Eamon had aged ten years plus ever since the tower had appeared in sight. He knew it was the right thing to do, and still it tore him apart. He had not been half as devastated when he had sent me away on behalf of his wife. Speaking of Isolde... Connor's mother hadn't come. She was torn between her love for her boy and the shame he brought on her for being a mage. Almost fanatically religious, Isolde regarded mages as dangerous freaks. That she had borne one of these creatures had not changed her view on mages, but had driven her to hide and suppress her son's true nature. Connor didn't understand that his mother was responsible for the catastrophe of the rise of the undead in Redcliffe. Sure, he was the mage, but he was also a child. Isolde claimed she had meant well... Maker! Beware of those meaning well! Too often their concern is a cover for their own interests.
At the stern, Amalia was clinging to her father, wide-eyed and scared out of her mind of what was to come. Her first encounter with templars had not helped with calming her down, and her magic was erupting from her involuntarily. Sweat was forming on my brow from the effort of constantly countering her magic with my templar skills. If she went on like that she would spent the night in a cell, separated from the other mages and under the templars' tight control. They would show her a tranquil and threaten they would turn her into such an empty shell, a ghost of herself. They would scare the frightened girl even more when what she needed most was a hug and some kind words. Wynne could provide both, but I wasn't sure whether Ser Greagoir would let her.
I was here to persuade Greagoir to allow the mages a little more freedom, a first step to make their lives better and prevent another rebellion. He was a reasonable man with foresight. There was a chance he would listen... I prayed he would for the sake of Connor and Amalia and of all the other mages.
The boat now approached the pier, the waves of the black water licking at its sides like demons' tongues. Two tall figures stood like statues at the landing stage, their faces hidden behind the ventails of their helmets, the flickering light of the torches at the wall dying their heavy armor blood red.
Connor jumped out of the boat—with the ease of a Redcliffe boy who had grown up at the shores of Lake Calenhad—without hesitation as soon as it was close enough to the pier. Barking short orders at Connor, the templars immediately shoved him against the wall, forced him into a spreadeagle position and none too gently searched him for forbidden objects before pushing the eleven year old boy to the ground to lie prone with his arms crossed behind his head. Eamon didn't like it a bit to see his son treated like a criminal.
"For the love of Andraste!" he exclaimed. "He is only a child!"
"A child who killed dozens of villagers," one of the templars replied, the sound of his voice, though muffled by his helmet, gave him away.
"Oh come on, Cullen!" Rori snapped furiously, her eyes blazing when she jumped out of the boat and came face to chest with the huge templar, poking her index finger at his chest plate forcefully with every word. "Don't be an ass! The kid gave you no reason at all to manhandle him!"
"You know nothing..." Cullen began angrily but was cut short at once.
"... about what happened when Uldred's rebellion started? I was there to save your sorry ass, remember?" Rori snapped, stepping so close that Cullen involuntarily retreated. "Most mages joined Uldred because they couldn't endure their imprisonment and suppression anymore. And if things don't change, this rebellion will only be the first of many. So, how about making their lives a little less terrible by treating them with common courtesy and a little bit of friendliness?"
Cullen opened his ventail and growled at Rori. Bad idea. This girl had once been a werewolf and I swear, ever since, though she was now completely human again, she had developed a somewhat animalistic ferocity. She just growled back at him, all teeth bared, and stared him down until Cullen looked away uneasily. "You shouldn't meddle in affairs you don't know anything about," the templar grunted. "It's none of your business. I don't tell you how to treat darkspawn, so don’t tell me how to treat mages. What do you want here anyway—again?"
"First official visit," I informed him, finally gaining his attention—the only reason why he missed Rori muttering "Jerk!" and rolling her eyes at him.
"Your Majesty," Cullen mumbled, sounding none too happy to see me, and bowed properly though rather stiffly. His companion followed suit after Cullen elbowed him. "I will send word to Knight-Commander..." he spat out the title of his boss with contempt. "... Greagoir as soon as we have the situation here under control."
"A situation consisting of two little kids. Good luck, Cullen." Rori commented sarcastically. Cullen glowered at her with icy contempt before turning to Amalia still cowering in the boat.
"Cullen!" I laid my hand on his arm. "The girl is frightened. The templars who caught her mistreated her badly. She has no control over her magic when in panic. Please..."
Cullen shook off my hand, not willing to listen any longer. "You do your job, your Majesty, and I’ll do mine," he growled, pushing past me. "You! Get out! Now!" Cullen bellowed at the frightened little girl, staring at him wide eyed. Just awesome! What about 'be gentle' was so hard to understand?
Amalia, of course, didn't move. She started crying and clung to her father as if her life depended on him. Only the ferryman fled onto the shore. Smart move. It's never a good thing to find yourself caught in between a mage and a templar.
"Cullen, this won't work. She'll never climb out of that boat when you shout at her. Maybe I should talk to her..." I tried once more but was ignored.
"Get out now or I'll drag you out," he threatened, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"You just have such a way with little children, Cullen," Rori mocked. I wish she'd shut her big mouth for once. I mean, it's usually my job to put my foot in my mouth—and I'm incredibly good at it—but this time even I figured riling up Cullen wouldn't do any good.
And yep, Cullen's reaction came instantly. He pulled his sword half out of its sheath to show it to Amalia. "Get out! Last warning!" he snapped at the child. Amalia shook her head. Crawling as far away from the templar at the pier as possible, hiding behind her father.
"Can't you see, she's scared!" Mattias now interfered angrily. Beckoning Amalia to stay where she was, he approached the templars on the pier. "You scare her! Maybe if you stepped back I could talk to her..."
"Do you think we have all day to waste our time on some filthy little mage bitch?" the second templar now shrieked. Oh joy! Caroll, the epitome of reason and common sense! He jumped into the boat, shoving wounded Mattias aside and into the lake when he stepped in between the templar and the girl.
Doom!
DOOOOOOOOOOM!
Everything happened at once now. Amalia screamed when the dark waves crashed above her father's head, her magic erupted at the same time, turning her scream into a shock wave that sent everybody down. Mattias flailed helplessly in the deep water, crying for help before the waves swallowed him and he sank like a stone. Amalia screamed and screamed, the force of her panic crushing against the walls of the grot, shaking the rock above our heads. Small stones rained down on us as the ceiling of the cave cracked. Carroll was thrown out of balance, tumbling backwards in the heavily careening boat. Caught by surprise by the sudden eruption of magic, Rori, Eamon, Cullen and I were crashed against the wall, the impact pushing the air out of my lungs. Sinking to the ground, stars dancing in front of my eyes, I took refuge in my templar training and cleared my mind, ignoring the pressure on my chest and the burning in my lungs. Then, with utmost concentration, I gathered the power of my templar skills to purify the area of any magic...
I was still warming up when Cullen lashed out with extreme force, shattering Amalia's involuntary spell. He jumped back to his feet with ease despite his heavy armor, drew his weapon and ran for the boat while I was still scrambling around on the ground. Blasted overachiever!
Rori was even faster. Like a jack-in-the-box, she catapulted herself off the ground and rushed past Cullen, throwing herself off the pier and into the water where Mattias had sunken, while I—finally on my feet—rushed after the templar to stop him from picking Amalia apart. Eamon crawled to where Connor was still lying on the ground, paralyzed.
Carroll came back to his feet just when I tackled Cullen. We both crashed to the ground, Cullen kicking and cursing at me. Meanwhile, Carroll attacked Amalia, sword raised over her head with the intent to kill her. The child screamed and lunged forward. The blade stuck in the wooden bench where the girl had sat only a heartbeat ago. Amalia scrambled through the gap between Carroll's spread legs and when the templar bent to catch her, the boat careened again and Carroll toppled into the water.
There was no flailing, no cry for help. Carroll sunk like a stone. Even the best templar cannot swim in heavy armor. And while he went down, Rori surfaced on the other side of the boat with the lifeless form of Mattias in her arms. I let go of Cullen to pull Mattias onto the pier, and the templar chased after Amalia, knocking her out with one well-aimed blow. I had to tackle him again to prevent him from killing the girl while Rori rhythmically pressed down Mattias's chest and blew air into his mouth. Eamon uselessly cowered over Connor and shouted at us to stop while I was wrestling with an angry templar. Thanks for the help, old man!
Alarmed by the ferryman, Knight Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving, followed by several templars, burst into the grot to witness Ser Cullen of Honnleath and King Alistair of Ferelden scuffling around on the ground while Arl Eamon scolded us like little boys and told us to behave. Rori, in the meantime, had brought Mattias back to life and jumped into the lake after poor Carroll, diving for him uselessly. Greagoir demanded to know what was going on and that was when Connor, in his fear, lost control over his magic and another outburst of uncontrolled power flooded the room, sending everybody running like headless chickens. Then, suddenly, Carroll was thrown out of the water as if the lake itself had spat him out like something inedible.
He landed in between the gathered templars who were busy knocking out and tying up two children. His sudden appearance had us all freeze and eye the lake with suspicion and worry. There was a movement in the water, the waves crashed against the shore when something huge and heavy rose from the surface. A large angular head with gleaming eyes appeared. "I cannot even take a walk under water without squishy smelly things landing on my head," Shale complained sullenly. "Didn't anybody ever teach you flesh creatures not to drop your waste into the water?"
Ten minutes later, Cullen, Rori and I were sitting in the Knight Commander's office in front of his very large, very tidy desk like three brattish students waiting for the headmaster. The children were both locked away and under surveillance. Wynne was with Amalia to soothe and calm her down while Eamon took care of Connor. Carroll and Mattias had been brought to the hospital ward. Shale? Really, I didn't know, but she was certainly getting up to some stone creature nonsense. Rori to my left was wrapped up in a blanket, steam rising from the mug of hot tea in her hands. On the other side, Cullen was pressing a moist cloth to his bleeding nose while I held a cooling aid to my swollen black eye. My two fellow sufferers were bickering across me without pause while I only wished for silence and peace and a place to rest my head.
"Greagoir won't kill them! Of course!" Cullen complained bitterly. "If you hadn't meddled with templar affairs, they both would be dead already. A danger foreseen is a danger avoided—that's what I keep telling Greagoir. And they are dangerous! They are killers! But nobody ever listens to me until it is too late!"
"How about you listen to yourself once in a while?" Rori advised acidly, her teeth still clattering from having spent too much time in the icy water. She sneezed and wiped her nose on her blanket. "Perhaps you then would realize what bullshit you babble all day long! They are children! What happened at the pier is not their fault!"
"They attacked us!" Cullen barked in a nasal voice. "They are uncontrollable monsters, an abnormality that has to be wiped out for the sake of mankind!"
"Oh, and you are so much better than them, I take it? All that happened at the pier happened because you fucked up!" Rori informed the templar, flipping him the bird in the process.
"I only did my job!" Cullen hissed, half-bending across me to properly glower at Rori. "You have no training in dealing with dangerous mages. How dare you criticize me?"
"Well, let's see. As far as I recall, Alistair was trying to tell you Amalia was scared and that you should handle her carefully. He even offered to help you but you would not listen. The kid was mortally terrified already, but you threatened her even more, and that's when all hell broke loose," Rori snapped. "You fucked up, Cullen. Fact!"
"Nobody ever understands me," Cullen whined. "Greagoir, the new templars, you—you all have not endured what I had to endure. You have not seen what I saw, have not felt what I felt—the agony, the horror, the despair... We cannot allow mages more freedom. We have to control them, best kill them all. We still cannot be sure there are no demons hiding in those who survived Uldred's so-called rebellion. They appear harmless, but I know! I know! I know what they can become, what they are capable of! It haunts me in my dreams and when I open my eyes the horror is still there..." He groaned loudly, covering his face with his hands as he bent forward in his chair, thus smearing his face with the blood still dripping from his nose. "My brothers died... and still you defend the monsters responsible!"
"Connor and Amalia weren't even here when your brothers died!" Rori exclaimed in exasperation. "Many mages fought Uldred and tried to defend the templars! They, too, died alongside your brothers!" She inhaled deeply to calm herself down and with much effort, forced her voice to a gentler tone. "Yes, you suffered, and nobody can ever truly know or even imagine what you went through. But, Cullen, you were about to kill two children today!"
"Templars are there to protect. They have to do whatever is necessary to protect," Cullen muttered under his breath.
"That also includes the mages," I reminded him tiredly. Maker, my head was killing me! "Templars aren't supposed to be their jailors and hangmen. We are here to protect them, too. That's what we were taught, remember?"
"Theory and reality often don't fit together," Cullen muttered bitterly. "It's impossible when you don't know who you can trust."
"Then we have to change things," Rori insisted. The way the Chantry handled the templar-mages affair was bound to give the templars all the power and make them the oppressors. There was no way for a mage to defend themselves against any templar decision or attack. They were living in constant fear of drawing the wrong kind of attention and never raised their voices when being mistreated or violated. The dark figure of those killed or made tranquil when their only crime had been to displease the templars was for sure higher than anybody dared to imagine—not that anybody cared.
Don't get me wrong, I realized mages were dangerous, a force of their own that had to be controlled for the sake of... well, everybody including the mages themselves. I had met my share of crazy, evil and possessed mages—and a whole lot more who were just nice people trying to get by without causing any harm. I didn't take this lightly, no matter what Cullen thought. I still was too much a templar after all.
"You want a change? I tell you the only way is to show no mercy. We cannot afford regarding mages as human beings!" Cullen retorted heatedly. He stared at Rori and me with bloodshot eyes. Rori furiously stared back, I shook my head. I would never be able to do what Cullen demanded of me. He quickly came to the correct conclusion. "You won't listen. I know you won't. Nobody ever does until it is too late." Everything about the templar screamed unfit for service. He needed a break, he needed help. When we had met him again after the rebellion, he had seemed quite balanced—as if he had recovered from the assault. He had even kinda asked us to save his love Solona Amell from being made tranquil. He had changed ever since, a great deal. What we saw here was a man at the edge of a mental breakdown.
Knight-Commander Greagoir reeked of his weariness. Tiredly he rubbed his face when he took his seat behind his desk. For a minute, nobody said a word. He just regarded us silently. Sighing deeply, he then first apologized: "Please accept my apology, your Majesty. Ser Cullen’s actions are in no way excusable..." He shot a look at the unfortunate young templar, its sharpness colored by the worry in his eyes. "... to attack the king..." Greagoir shook his head in disbelief. "I will suspend Ser Cullen from office and hand him over to you for trial..."
"WHAT!?" Cullen shouted, knocking over his chair when he rose, menacingly leaning across the table to give his boss a piece of his mind. "After all I went through! After what I did for the order! I gave you my life! I did my duty! I almost died! I... I..."
Greagoir didn't move. He just sternly locked eyes with the upset knight. Cullen started to stammer, then fell silent and, defeated, slumped back in his chair, burying his face in his hands. "Ser Cullen! You bring shame on the order and on yourself!" Greagoir said in a calm but forceful voice, every inch the Knight-Commander of Kinloch-Hold. "I will not tolerate such behavior!"
"Yes, Knight Commander," Cullen muttered, hanging his head, his cheeks burning crimson with—I don't know. Was it embarrassment or anger? Maybe both.
"My apologies, your Majesty—again. Now, what do you wish to do with Ser Cullen?"
"There will be no trial. I already have decided," I said earnestly, lifting my hand to beckon Greagoir to sit down again when the Knight Commander half rose from his chair, startled by my words. "It's not what you think! Maker! I'm not a tyrant! A fool, yes. Sometimes a bit slow in thinking and I can't really get used to all this king business... I travel with a portable throne. Can you even imagine? We need one pack horse just for that thing!" Rori started to giggle, Greagoir hid his grin behind his hand. Yeah... I have that effect. "And I babble too much... like, err, right now.... Anyway... I do not intend to punish Ser Cullen. And please, do not suspend him. He is a templar, heart and soul. He has gone through much, and I think he needs help and some time off. Perhaps it would be best to transfer him to... I don't know... just some place far away from Kinloch Hold. There are too many terrible memories here for him. He needs to stand back from what happened here to recover. That's impossible when he's confronted with the tragedy every day."
"Wisely spoken, your Majesty," Ser Greagoir said with relief and pride. "Ferelden is lucky to have a king such as you."
"Really?" I asked, unconvinced. "Would you write that down so I can show it to Anora next time I meet her?"
"And now you believe you have done me a favor, don't you, your Majesty?" Cullen snorted with contempt when he rose from his chair. "Well, thank you so very much, your Majesty," he added sarcastically. "I hope I get to leave this country because I don't want to be here when your stupid compassion leads to the inevitable catastrophe. Mark my words!" He slammed the door shut when he left.
"Charming!" Rori mumbled. "Now, didn't we come here to discuss the situation of the mages and the templars? Onward! We are headed for an inevitable catastrophe!"
Our little council consisted of Greagoir, Irving, Wynne, the Circle's Revered Mother Claire—yeah, the Chantry cares for its flock, even for the black sheep amongst them, so the Circle has its own chapel—Rori and myself. Eamon was still occupied with helping Connor to get settled in. He had been eager to take part, and for once, completely supported my ideas for improving the lives of mages.
"This meeting is ill-fated," the Revered Mother began when all were gathered. "After the incident today when the two young mages were brought in, I don't see how you want to convince the Grand Cleric to agree to allow the mages more freedom."
"Uldred's rebellion showed we cannot oppress them forever. They will fight back eventually. It is even more likely now as word will spread about the rebellion," I pointed out. "And as for the Grand Cleric—we’ve got the law on our side!"
Irving frowned. "How so?" he inquired. "When has a law ever protected mages?"
"I've studied the Chantry law considering the role of templars and mages before we departed from Denerim..." Rori stared at me incredulously. "What? I did study it! Remember that large tome? The one you keep using as a stool? It's Chantry law and I did read it whenever you didn't sit around on it. Anyway... Chantry law states templars are meant to protect the mages. But what we have here is a prison. The mages have no rights. Mages all over Thedas—well, save for Tevinter—are at the mercy of the templars guarding them. They cannot defend themselves against any assault. There's no one they can turn to for justice. I believe this is the first thing we have to change. We need a system of... checks and balances, an independent council both mages and templars can turn to if they have been done wrong. I know as I have been trained as a templar myself that their life and job is not easy. Still, they, too, should have to answer for their crimes."
"This would damage the image of the templar order," Claire protested. "Are there really so many crimes committed against mages? Templars are knights following a strict code of honor!"
"Yes, that's the theory, that honor and faith would guide the templars to do what is right. But men like Ser Percy, Ser Garth and Ser Linus only follow their own code. I very much doubt they even know how to spell honor," I retorted gloomily and after telling the Revered Mother how the trio had behaved towards Amalia and her father, Claire had to admit that they were neither honorable nor true knights.
"Mages could use that right to slander templars," Greagoir remarked. "It would put more pressure on the templars."
"There should be an independent prosecutor to investigate a case when an accusation is made," Rori suggested. "Nobody will get judged just because someone points their finger at them."
"And what if your council isn't sure? There won't always be enough evidence to come to a just decision." Greagoir still wasn't convinced.
Rori shrugged. "In dubio pro reo," she said, then turning to me added with a wide grin: "See, I didn't only sit around on that tome."
"A council also should decide whether a mage should be executed or made tranquil," Wynne suggested. "Knight-Commander Greagoir is an honorable, wise and just man. He consults First Enchanter Irving before making such a grave decision. But he doesn't have to. We are all lucky to have a Knight Commander like him. But times could change and we all live with the fear of things to come."
"Agreed," I said. "The council should consist of templars, priestesses, nobles—and mages. I strongly believe we have to allow the mages some co-determination. They should be involved in the decisions about their lives."
"I get how you want to sell the whole council idea to the Grand Cleric by reading of the law. I'm not convinced it will work, but I understand what you intend," Irving croaked. "But stick me in a dress and call me Sally if there's anything about co-determination in that tome of yours!"
And all eyes on King Alistair! Too bad King Alistair didn't have a clue how he wanted to convince Elemena of agreeing to any of the improvements we had talked about. Improvements that should only mark the beginning of a new era. I wasn't on best terms with the Grand Cleric. My coronation day had become my doomsday in my relationship with the Grand Cleric. You think things cannot get worse and then you pee into a vase in a chapel and get caught and just to top it all off, your drunken brother-in-law hands the Arling of Amaranthine to your club instead of the Chantry. That's not exactly the best starting basis for a deal. And using Isolde's influence would work once for getting rid of the trio infernale Percy, Garth and Linus, but certainly not for the revolutionary plans I had with the mages. I had been so excited about how I could help and what I would do that I missed on the most essential part of my plans: How to put them into action.
Quickly I skimmed through all my Chantry contacts in my mind, anybody who owed me a favor and could possibly have some influence on the Grand Cleric. Ser Irmenric, the templar Rori and I had rescued from Arl Howe's dungeon... The Revered Mother of Redcliffe... Brother Genitivi... And suddenly I had an epiphany!
Haha! It was so easy! Why hadn't I seen this earlier? That's what you call missing the forest for the trees. I had so concentrated on the law that I had not even realized the easiest way to convince the Grand Cleric of... everything! I wouldn't even owe Isolde a favor because Elemena would hand over the trio infernale happily! Percy, Garth and Linus didn't yet know, but they were already headed for the Deep Roads.
Oh happy day!
"Well, First Enchanter Sally..." I laughed, then shook my head at Irving's shocked and surprised expression, "No, just kidding! See, I don't really need that law as long as I have Haven. Haha, it just occurred to me. It really is that easy! Haven is part of my kingdom, and with it Andraste's ashes. The Grand Cleric wants that area for the Chantry, and I'm pretty sure she would just do anything for it. So," I busily rubbed my hands together, “anything you want on your wish list? Sweet buns every Sunday? A new dress for the First Enchanter? A karaoke night once a month? You name it, I'll make it happen!"
...
"Now, let's see what's on our list," I rummaged in my pocket for Rori's and mine Kinloch-Hold-to-do-list as soon as we left Greagoir's office. "Making sure the trio infernale won't do harm anymore to mages—check. Improvements for the mages—check. Irving said he would have the documents about Maric's visit to the Circle twenty years ago brought to my quarters—check. So, what's left is Solona's letter for Cullen. Do you need me with you when you give it to him, Rori?"
"Yes, I need you to keep me from biting his head off!" Rori muttered, pulling a face. "What is wrong with him? I mean, I know what is wrong... but I still don't get how he could so completely lose it today!"
We followed Greagoir down the dark corridor towards the templar quarters. Cullen had been given his own room, although he was not yet a senior templar. I guess Greagoir showing us the way personally was due to his uneasy conscience. He worried and cared a lot about Cullen. Wynne was right: Ser Greagoir was a wise, just and honorable man.
"The new templars did not respond to Cullen's claim to kill the remaining mages," Greagoir explained. "And though they first showed sympathy, his ongoing mourning unnerved them after a while. They cannot even imagine Cullen's suffering. It all led to his isolation, both because he retreated and they excluded him, and I am afraid being left alone brooding didn't do him any good. I should have taken better care of him, but with the Circle in ruins..." The Knight Commander shrugged. "He still is a good man, though he has gone astray. When I finally realized the seriousness of his condition, he was already beyond reach. Now only he can remedy himself. The man you saw today, that's not Cullen, and I pray one day he will find the strength inside him to become himself again." By now we had reached Cullen's room. "Don't judge him by his words," Greagoir put in a word for Cullen. "I should have sent him away a long time ago. I hope now is not too late." Thus said, the Knight Commander left us alone.
"Duh," Rori sighed. "Now I feel bad for having been so mean towards Cullen. What he did at the pier wasn't right, but I could have handled it a bit more... diplomatically. Oh well, can't be undone. Let's give him that letter. Maybe it’ll cheer him up a bit."
"You couldn't just slip the letter under the door?" I suggested. I didn't really want another confrontation with Cullen. I mean, I felt sympathy for him, but I didn't really know how to help him. And I very much doubted anything could cheer him up, least of all a letter from his mage-crush. So it was quite pointless to pester him, right?
"It's not really a letter..." Rori pulled a large thick envelope from her backpack.
"Maker! What's that? Has she written a book?"
Rori giggled. "The secret life of Solona Amell."
"Cute Curly Cullen—the love of my life by Solona Amell." I snickered.
"The templar temptation."
"My cully Cullen—bff."
Suddenly the door was thrown open and a rather sore templar in a templar-purple gown appeared in the frame. "I can hear you, you know," Cullen snapped sullenly. "It's so entertaining to make fun of me, isn't it?"
"Have you been born without any sense of humor, or did it get surgically removed later in life?" Rori shot back. "Relax, Cullen. We didn't make fun of you. We made fun of Solona." She grinned and winked, earning herself a grumpy grunt. "Anyway, here's her letter for you."
Cullen suspiciously eyed the envelope in her hand.
"It doesn't bite, I promise."
"I... I shouldn't take it..." He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
"Why not?" Rori asked, puzzled.
"Nothing should cloud my mind, nothing should have me waver in my determination..."
"Cullen, take the letter and you get a piece of advice and a hug for free," Rori offered with wide smile. She sounded like a used carriage dealer.
"From you?" Cullen snorted, arms crossed in front of his chest defiantly.
"From a person who lost everything she had and went through hell and back again," Rori replied earnestly.
"No thanks!"
"Alright, then how about this: We'll camp in front of your door until you take the letters."
Cullen snatched the package from her hand. "But I won't read it!" he declared stubbornly. "I will burn..." The rest of his sentence was swallowed by a muffled cry of surprise when Rori flung her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. "Let got of me!"
"I did promise you a free hug, didn't I?" Rori grinned.
"One I didn't want," the templar complained. "You are a terrible nuisance. I really don't understand how you endure her, your Majesty."
"Oh, you know, I'm a terrible nuisance myself," I laughed, ruffling my little imp's red curls. "Birds of a feather flock together."
"Don't say that out loud near Shale. She's likely to turn us into nuisance squish," Rori giggled.
"All of a sudden I am warming up to the golem," Cullen mumbled.
"Oh wow, Cullen! That was a joke! Congratulations! You win another free hug!"
"Stop harassing me!" Cullen growled when Rori wrapped her arms around him again.
"It's like hugging a tree," she observed. "Stiff and starchy. Perhaps you need a massage? I know an elf who is quite skilled..."
"NO!" Cullen roared, desperately looking at me for help. I did him the favor and plucked Rori off him.
"And now the piece of advice," Rori chirped, beaming brightly at the annoyed templar.
"What about 'I don't want it' is so hard to get?" Cullen asked unnervedly.
Rori was in no way impressed by his unwillingness. "Cullen, you believe you are all alone in this world, that you have lost all your friends in that battle. You retreat to your shell, choosing isolation to protect yourself from harm. It will drive you crazy and you know it."
"You are driving me crazy!" Cullen exclaimed in exasperation. "Why don't you just leave me alone?"
Rori completely ignored him, pointing at the letter in Cullen's hand. "These are from the one friend you still have. She'll be there if only you let her. Write to her. A problem shared is a problem halved, you know." Once her speech was over she stood there, expectantly regarding the templar.
"What? What more do you want?" Cullen groaned.
"You will write to her, right?" Rori asked innocently.
"I hate writing letters. I don't even write to my sister!"
"Awesome!" Rori acted as if Cullen hadn't said anything at all. "And of course we will take your letter with us when we leave tomorrow."
"What the...!" Cullen gasped. "I just said..."
"You don't have any letter paper? Here, you can use mine. And a quill. Ink." Rori pulled the items from her backpack and dumped all three in the pocket of Cullen's gown. "I'll come and fetch it before we leave. Good night, Cullen. Sweet dreams. Rest well. Buenos noches! Bonne nuit!"
"Just leave!" Cullen pressed through gritted teeth. Suddenly I wasn't worried anymore about Rori biting off his head. Quite the contrary. So I linked arms with my beloved nuisance and dragged her out of the danger zone before Cullen could explode.
"I thought you wanted to be nice," I said when we both rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight and ear shot.
"I was nice!" Rori protested. "Extremely nice. That he doesn't get it is not my fault."
The next day before dawn there was a sharp knock on our door. Rori pulled the blanket over her head, uncovering me in the process, turned to the other side and just kept snoring softly. I laid there in the cold, clutching my pillow and willed the disturber to go away.
Knock-knock.
"Urgh! Room service?" I called out sleepily.
"What? No, it's Cullen!" a deep voice was heard from the other side of the door. "Room service! Spoiled noble bastard!"
Grunting I rolled out of bed, grabbed the first piece of clothing I could get hold of and, still half-asleep, stumbled towards the door, opening it for the templar. Cullen was taken aback by my appearance, he stared at me completely flabbergasted. Well, who had he thought would open that door? The Maker himself?
"What is it?" I grunted, trying to hold the blasted gown I had squeezed myself into together.
"You are wearing a pink gown with white bunnies, your Majesty," Cullen pointed out.
I followed his gaze down my front, first time noticing the silken nightmare of a gown that hardly reached to my knees. "Blast, that's Rori's. And I already wondered why the damn thing fit so tightly." I muttered, turning a brighter shade of crimson as I clutched the gown tighter to at least cover the essential parts.
"She has... exquisite taste," Cullen remarked dryly.
"It was a gift," I hurried to explain. Oghren had given it to Rori for her birthday. "But, um, you certainly haven't come here in the middle of the night to admire my... um... attire?"
"Yes, no, I mean, the letter..." Cullen stammered, blushing deeply as he lamely waved the sealed envelope in front of my nose.
"You wrote to Solona?" I exclaimed, utterly surprised that he had actually made the effort.
"Yes, and I... I..." He coughed, shifted his weight uneasily and rubbed the back of his neck. "I first thought I didn't have much to say..."
I arched an eyebrow. It was a quite thick envelope. Not as voluminous as Solona's, but still...
"Um, well, I was mistaken and... I now see that maybe sometimes my reactions are a bit... extreme," Cullen mumbled, unable to look me straight in the eyes.
"Just a little bit, Cullen," I grinned. "Just a little bit."
- 12
- 13
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Hoping One Day We'll Make A Dream Last