Chapter Text
The Blight was over.
Rena Surana pressed her face against the small window overlooking the lake. A messenger was relaying the full details to Irving and Greagoir now, but the main part of his news had already spread through the Tower like wildfire. The archdemon was dead, killed by their own, Jaim Amell. The mages who had joined the wardens in the final battle would be arriving back any day now, along with the heartfelt thanks of the new King, Alistair.
Rena should have been rejoicing. She should have been on her knees giving thanks to the Maker that the Blight had been defeated. Instead, she was plotting her next move.
There would be a celebration for the returned mages. Not even the Templars could deny the mages that, as much as Greagoir would rail against it. And since the king intended to accompany the mages back to Kinloch Hold, it could very well be that the celebration would be on the grounds outside the Tower. There couldn’t possibly be enough room in the Tower for whatever escort the king brought with him. At least, not in the habitable areas of the Tower.
“Rena!” Rena glanced away from the glass at the sound of one of the child apprentices calling her name. She smiled at the little elf girl running towards her. Although she had been a full mage for months now, passing her Harrowing shortly after Jaim’s conscription, she sometimes missed her time with the apprentices.
“What is it, Della?” she asked.
Della bounced, her long braids flying behind her. “Senior Enchanter is calling everyone to meet in the chapel! He has an announcement!”
Rena smiled gently at the child, but she felt her guts twist. This was the announcement. How she played her cards now could determine her entire future. “Well, then we shouldn’t miss it,” she said. She took Della’s hand. “Shall we?”
Della eagerly tugged Rena along to the chapel. It was already crowded, but not nearly as much as it once would have been.
Rena looked around, trying to decide how many mages had been lost over the last few months. First had been Ostagar, although very few mages had been lost there. Then Uldred’s failed rebellion has nearly cut the population of the Tower in half. With more of them gone to fight the archdemon, the chapel was empty in comparison to what it used to be like.
And those weren’t the only casualties. Rena tried not to think about them, but she couldn’t help it. She was so used to her friends standing beside her.
Jaim. Jowan. Anders. Niall. Evelyn. All were gone now, leaving only her.
Jaim was a warden. Niall had died in the rebellion. Jowan and Anders had both fled, and so far had remained uncaught. Evelyn… Rena swallowed, trying to block out the memory.
She hadn’t been supposed to see Evelyn being taken away for her Harrowing. She hadn’t been supposed to follow. Even a full mage was not supposed to witness an apprentice’s Harrowing. That privilege was reserved for Senior Enchanters.
She definitely had not been supposed to see Evelyn stripped, tied down, and tortured by a group of Templars.
Rena suppressed a shudder. She hadn’t been able to do anything. If she had made a sound, the Templars would just have added her torture and humiliation to Evelyn’s. There was nothing she could have done.
Maybe one day she’d believe that.
The murmuring among the mages grew louder and then disappeared as Irving entered the room, flanked by Greagoir and a group of Templars and Senior Enchanters. Irving smiled at the assembled mages.
“Brothers and sisters in the Circle,” he said. “I am sure you have heard the great news, that the Blight has been defeated, and our fellow mages off fighting will soon return to us.”
There was silence as the mages waited for Irving to continue. This was not the news they were waiting for.
“King Alistair will accompany the mages back,” Irving continued. “I have been told he has an announcement to make to the Circle. Be that as it may, a celebration will be in order, to welcome our brothers and sisters home and give thanks to the Hero of Fereldan for ending the Blight.”
Now the whispers started. Rena just waited, her heart in her throat.
“For security reasons, however,” Irving continued, “only a few mages will be able to attend the royal celebration. I’m sure the celebration in here, however, will have just as much to offer!”
Now the murmurs broke out in earnest. Rena could hear the disgruntled complaints, the anger and pain, and she could feel the Templar’s eyes on them all. None of the Templars trusted any of the mages who had survived Uldred’s rebellion.
“If you have any questions, please direct them to Knight-Captain Greagoir or myself,” Irving finished.
At that, conversation broke out in earnest amongst the mages. Rena remained silent, looking around until she found the person whose eyes were always on her.
She walked towards him, trying to appear as casual and timid as possible. This was her strength, what she had used to keep herself alive and safe in the Tower all these years. To all appearances, she was a mouse, quiet, timid, and unlikely to cause anyone any trouble.
“Hello, Cullen,” she said, smiling shyly.
Once, Cullen would have stammered and blushed before smiling in return, but not now. Something had happened to him during the mage rebellion, and Rena had no desire to find out what. Now, he just eyed her, although he did still flush a little at her shy glance.
“Rena,” he said. “Can I help you?”
Rena ducked her head. “I was wondering if you knew who the mages who get to go to King Alistair’s celebration are,” she said softly.
Cullen frowned. “I don’t think that’s been decided yet,” he said. “Why?”
Rena looked away, pretending to search for words. “I don’t suppose… could I… would you… do you think I could be one of them?” she ended in a rush.
Cullen eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”
Maker’s breath. Of all the times for Cullen to be suspicious.
“I just… it’s been so long… Cullen, I want to feel grass again,” she managed. It was true longing in her voice. She remembered the feeling of grass beneath her feet. They used to have exercises outside when she was an apprentice, but that had stopped when Anders had made a failed escape attempt by swimming the lake.
“Grass.” Cullen’s voice was flat.
“Please, Cullen,” she begged. She hated herself for doing this, but she had no choice. “Just for a little while? I won’t cause any trouble, I promise. I’ll stick by your side the entire time. If you want me there, that is,” she lowered her eyes again. “I wouldn’t mind that. I’d like to spend an evening with you.”
Now Cullen flushed. “Rena…” he stammered.
Rena looked up at him through her eyelashes. “Please?” she begged. “Just a few hours? With you?”
Cullen flushed even redder. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said, then fled down the hall, following the path Knight-Captain Greagoir had taken.
Rena exited the chapel herself and flung herself into a small alcove, trying to control the bile in her throat. She hated doing that. Once, she might have been tempted to act on Cullen’s obvious attraction to her. She knew the prohibitions about relationships between mages and Templars, of course, but she knew they weren’t strict. But now… now she could barely look at him without seeing Evelyn’s face screaming in pain, Templar helmets and armor flashing as the men held her down.
Cullen hadn’t been there, as far as Rena knew. But she didn’t think she could ever look at a Templar with desire or even friendship again.