#I wasn't sure on dates or ages so I kept it cague

[kalloway]

I Dream in Fear (old Dragon Age fanfic WIP)

Decided to just throw this up there - I wanna find the motivation to finish it or re-write parts of it, but tbh I’m actually pulling dialogue from it rn for a different dialogue idea I had lmao

But hey, it’s here if you want. It’s long, so it’s under the cut. I wrote this back in January 2015, apparently. Wow.

Hope it’s okay! I’m not formatting it at all before queuing this so if it’s weird... let me know - I know my theme’s garbage for this sorta thing rn OTL

There was a blade breathing down her neck as the silence hung heavy in the room. He tried, but his breathing was ragged; nervous. So quiet it was, he was ashamed to consider that his Knight-Commander could probably hear it form where he stood – judge it, criticize it when this ordeal was over – oh Maker, have mercy upon this terrified young Templar. Perhaps forgive him for the sin he'd considered acting upon. Duty had held him firm, but this mage – this woman – had managed to shake his stubborn will.

He was not supposed to do what he did. He was a Templar – plain and simple. He observed, he protected, he fulfilled his duties. He did not become a stammering fool and he did not become irresponsibly smitten with a mage simply because she had smiled at him once. He wasn't supposed to, but he did despite himself. Was he ashamed of this? Of course, but he found that every time he told himself 'no', he'd catch a glimpse of red hair and a flash of those honey-coloured eyes, and he'd forget his own oaths. He didn't even know her, and yet he knew far more than he cared to admit. She was very talented however, even First-Enchanter Irving had mentioned it once – but was it not wrong to pick favourites amongst those that may not even-

No, of course not.

He simply admired from a distance, trying to understand what exactly made him feel this way. Before he knew it however, the Templars' shifts would rotate, and she was out of sight... but not out of mind.

Some days were better than others in this situation. He wouldn't mull over it much and attended to his duties like any other Templar – though with the odd glance he'd give her when he thought no one was watching. Then there were days he became helplessly paranoid, fearing for her for minuscule reasons that he'd blow out of proportion. That mage over there seems like he's standing a little too close to her to just be on friendly terms... Was that Templar staring at her too? At the end of these troublesome days, he'd pray that he would grow out of this phase or... condition. How long he'd denied it. How long he'd attempted to brush it off as nothing. But it was nothing. Nothing good would come of it most certainly, but was that the only thing that drove him to all this concern and stress over a mage – a woman – that was nothing more than one of many charges he watched over? It was all too confusing for him, and he feared that it would start to show. He feared he'd be caught, or worse yet – she be the one punished for his own seemingly uncontrollable infatuation.

It was early one evening that he spoke to her directly for the first time. He was assigned to a watch in one of the libraries in the Apprentice Quarters. He didn't even realize that she was there – and therefore wondered why he was sent to a seemingly empty room to begin with – until she'd suddenly moved out the corner of his eye to scan more of the tomes on the tall wooden shelves. He didn't dare move from where he stood, but he watched her run a slender finger across the spines of the tomes, searching by title or author possibly, he didn't bother to choose one. He simply observed.

After a few minutes of searching and three tomes in hand at last, she finally spun on her heel to take notice of his presence with a simple greeting of, “Oh, hello Cullen.” He swore his heart ceased to beat when she said his name. He had never told her his name... he hadn't even spoken to her before!

“How do you-? I-I mean...”

She blinked once before she sputtered out a reply, “Oh, I just... overheard another Templar...” She trailed off, uncertain, “I'm sorry, that was probably very rude of me. It was not my place, Ser.”

He was taken slightly aback by her concern. Was it concern for him? No, no, no. Don't think like that. He felt like he was being strangled of the air in his lungs... why was it so hard to simply speak to a mage? “Oh, uh... it's no issue. R-really! You can, uh... you can call me what you like. Er- within reason, of course.” He felt like a fool.

She gave him a weary smile in return, “As you wish, Cullen.”

And that was the end of the conversation. Cullen spent the rest of that night berating himself for being such an idiot. Things only became worse the next day when he overheard a conversation between two mages as he made his rounds through the Apprentice Quarters. He only caught part of the conversation, but he had heard his name and mention of 'Amell'. That was... Cullen had panicked upon hearing this conversation, hurrying past that section of the mage quarters so he didn't have to hear any more of it.

Yet despite this, the routine remained unchanged, save for odd mutual glances at one another when they passed. It was embarrassing for the both of them. However she was undoubtedly more ignorant on such matters than he was. When he'd first become a Templar, they had blatantly stated that Templar-Mage relations were not tolerated, especially within the same Circle. He had wondered at the time why they would have to mention such a thing in the first place. After all, was it not common sense?

If that was the case, then Cullen had none.

He spoke to her again, this time in the Senior Mage Quarters on the second floor. She was waiting outside the main library/stockroom in the hall, where Cullen was walking. He'd considered trying to ignore her, but that would be terribly rude, especially if she made an effort to greet him should he do so. Therefore, he chose to simply (or tried, at least) to ask her why an apprentice mage was on the second floor.

She'd turned to him with bright eyes, “Ah, I'm waiting for Tomkin – you know Tomkin, yes? - to gather some tomes he believes might prove useful in my studies.” She suddenly turned bashful, “He says it'll help me get ahead with all this stuff. I told him that wasn't necessary at all – after all, I'm not really all that special – but he's quite persistent, he is. The only reason I'm actually here is because he said he didn't want to leave me unsupervised downstairs. Maker only knows why he's so concerned about something so trivial.”

There was that familiar dull pain in his chest again. Worry. He had a terrible, faint feeling about why the mage Tomkin would be concerned leaving her alone, but he dared not think of it too much. Instead, he did his best to brush off the grim feeling, especially when he caught sight of aforementioned mage making his way back to her no doubt, with an armful of tomes. “Oh, I-I see. Er, very well... carry on, Amell.”

He cringed and silently cursed himself. 'Oh Maker, it slipped I swear!'

She furrowed her brow at him. She noticed. Cullen panicked, he wasn't supposed to refer to mages by name... it wasn't proper protocol! Much to his surprise though, the young mage in front of him only said one word , paired with a stern look in reply: “Miriam.”

He almost asked her the most idiotic question, but she had turned her attention to Tomkin, who has returned and ushered her back towards the Apprentice Quarters with the 'reward of knowledge'.

Miriam.

It suited her.

After learning her name – her informal name at that – Cullen felt almost giddy for the rest of the day. He didn't pray for forgiveness that evening. He didn't berate himself yet again for his foolish, impulsive actions. He was completely and utterly infatuated.

He spoke to her once more after this, back in the library once again. She saw him and gave him her usual bright smile – her eyes warm and welcoming – that never failed to set his heart aflutter. They were silent for quite some time, until Miriam had returned the tomes to their designations and seemed to be preparing to leave for her quarters for the night. She stopped in front of him after glancing around, presumably to ensure they were alone. She then turned her gaze upon him, “It's funny, how we always seem to be in the same places these days, Cullen.”

He could listen to his name pass through her lips forever... He quickly snapped back to his senses to the best of his ability, “Ah, y-yes. Well I, uh... I take this particular shift once a week. I... suppose our b-being in the same places besides this is... it's just a coincidence I'm sure.” He mentally slapped himself. He sounded like he wasn't too fond of her implications, when it was really quite the opposite. But what was he supposed to say?

“A coincidence, perhaps. But it's not like it's a bad coincidence. I mean, you're more forgiving than most. You have humanity... restraint. Something most Templars appear to be severely lacking, from what I've been told.”

Her compliments caught him entirely off-guard. Technically speaking, she was crossing a fine line with her subject matter. But he found himself reduced to a stammering mess yet again, “Y-you think I- H-humanity?” He scoffed at his failing voice, but it came out far harsher than intended, “All Templars have humanity... Mages do as well. You do.”

Miriam sighed, “That's not what I meant , you- Ugh. The other Templars... they just follow orders and don't care about their charges. They'd rather do as they please and scowl from afar. But you... you're different. It's a refreshing change, not having to be paranoid every waking minute.”

No words tumbled from his lips this time. Rather, his adoration for this mage only increased and was threatening to show. Though she had indeed somewhat insulted his Order, her sharp comments were not directed at him... well, not entirely. He'd noticed she had the tendency of being rather snippy with those she spoke with, so it didn't bother him nearly as much as it should have, although it still brought a twinge of shame for his own misinterpretation. That concern aside however, she was still taking the time to compliment him on a trait he himself had grown to dislike. He feared his compassion would interfere with his duties as a Templar, and had been scolded by Knight-Commander Gregoir for it more than once. He'd tried to detach himself from his charges and had done so successfully with all but one.

'What made her so different?', he'd occasionally wonder.

He'd wanted to spill his feelings to the woman; to break protocol and let it out so he wasn't so worked up about it. He wanted to take her slim hands in his own and compliment her – on her beauty, her wisdom and righteousness, everything.

Before his wild train of thought had found its end, Miriam had hastily bid him goodnight before leaving for her quarters. He watched her retreating form. His gut twisted uncomfortably – he should have said something. He shouldn't have even been thinking of such things to begin with. Such thoughts were dangerous, they told him.

He would regret his silence the following day.

The day of her Harrowing.

There he stood, overseeing her Harrowing – the most important day of her life. Cullen had not been informed ahead of time like some higher-ranking and more experienced Templars may have been. Gregoir had simply approached him out of the blue and commanded him to follow. He did so, but only knew what he was in for after reaching the fifth floor of the tower – the Harrowing Chamber.

'This Harrowing is like any other', he told himself, 'but why does it feel so... wrong?' He was never this nervous – this afraid – for neither himself nor the Mage he was 'guarding'. No, that's not what it was to him at all.