#conscrpt

"NEITHER HAVE I . . . maker, it seems like so long ago." the breath of his words are soft beyond measure. framed by a smile, and the fanning sigh of relief.

the warmth of their foreheads aligned against one another combined with the supple leather of his gloves solidly gripping hips, feels like a home he'd never expected to come back to. that frankly, he'd thought he no longer deserved. breathing out another laugh.

"-- was so long ago."

HE'D LIKE TO PRETEND HE'S THE PILLAR OF STRENGTH, and the solid presence which keeps her sturdy and upright. YET HE FELT AT TIMES AKIN TO A FALLING STRUCTURE OR A BROKEN LIMB, AND SHE THE STINT. a support beam that holds up solid stone, allowing it the strength to continue doing its job. AND WHEN SHE'S THERE, SHE CUTS OUT ALL THE NOISE. his pounding skull aches less when she's with him. A QUIET CALM OF PEACE IN PROTECTING WHAT HE SO COVETS. feeling like he's now on his way to being the man which she deserves.

THEY WERE BARELY EVEN ADULTS, AT THE TIME. they had lived and grown enough for two lifetimes by the time they've reunited, and cullen himself finds he adores her no less. ONLY RESPECT BUILT AT WHAT SHE WAS ABLE TO ACCOMPLISH. although in his case it was more like a steep regression, only to have to find out who he really was. LIKELY, AS HE'S COME TO REALIZE, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE.

TWIN MANES OF GOLD ARE TOUSLED, a lock of blond curls shed from lightly gelled confines and resting upon a sweat-laden forehead. HER BACK PRESSED AGAINST SPINES OF OLD BOOKS LINING THE SHELF NEXT TO HIS DESK, which are more well-kept than the quarters where he fails to rest his head every night. yet passions so too ripened the fairness of complexions with pink flushes, and darkened lips from -- maker only knows how long they've been here, kissing one another like lovelorn nobles. part of him believes it could have been hours, yet it somehow felt like no time at all. THOUGH HE REALIZES HOW LONG IT'S BEEN SINCE HE'S ALLOWED THIS. he doesn't -- well.. he had made a promise to her so long ago. the small box in his desk he'd carried with him since the circle still containing her favour, of an embroidered handkerchief. a lion, on a field of red and gold. yet regardless, he hadn't been in the right frame of mind to pursue anything of the sort. HE'D SO ADORED HER. told her he would wait for her to come back to him, yet he'd always wondered if it would ever happen. perhaps foolishly. unconvinced that he could be the man she needed until after kirkwall, and even now he doubted. BUT HE WOULD TRY. just as he's trying to atone, and to release himself from the order.

"i'm sorry." he drops his eyes, sounding entirely too earnest for his liking. NEVER HAS HE BEEN VERY GOOD AT THIS. he's - maker, he's been aching beneath the heavy layers he dons in service of his duty. LIKELY SINCE SHE FIRST TOUCHED HER LIPS TO HIS, AND HE BEGAN TO STIR. softly rutting up against her like a poorly trained mutt, whilst hoping she wouldn't notice. desperate for friction, and riding the line between whether or not he would find.. well, release too early.

his smile attempts to be reigned in as golden-brown eyes tug back upwards to meet her. "i haven't done this, since -- well, --" he laughs. "since before i met you." he looks away again, shaking his head. THERE'S A SIGH THAT EXITS HIM DESPITE HIMSELF, and he could swear he could feel the blood rush into his cheeks. for he remembers how long he's been dreaming of this moment.. lying awake and wondering what it would feel like... HOW HE WOULD MAKE IT PERFECT. and now he doesn't want to stop, just because he's wondering whether or not it would be awkward to pause in order to ascend a bloody ladder. IT WOULD NEVER BE HOW EITHER IMAGINED IT, yet, still he finds it would be perfect either way. SIMPLY BECAUSE IT IS HER.

he leans in and presses his lips against hers, which begins sweetly enough. . . but when he mouths over her once more, it turns into something hungry. moaning lowly, whilst eyes remain closed and noses grind. "but i far from regret that choice." he kisses her again, drawn and needy. fingers moving upward to gently hold her cheek, and speaking only between reverent presses of his mouth. parting dutifully for her with each. "as long as you can forgive me for --" again... "not being more romantic."

THE LAUGHTER THAT TUMBLES FROM HIS LIPS is childish and nervous in its innocence. SUCH A LONG WAY FROM HIS EXPERIENCES, YET... still a man made excited by the prospect of his new brotherhood, and of the young love and affection festering within his heart. NONE OF IT SEEMED WRONG. despite knowing it to be true. for he felt as though he were helping the everyday people, and the mages in his care. SUCH BEING EVERYTHING HE'S EVER WANTED. even if he was well aware of how their relationship was . . . well, at least on his end, teetering on the inappropriate. INSUBORDINATION WARNED OF, BUT KEPT SECRET FROM THE KNIGHT COMMANDER BY HIS FRIENDS. "what? o-of course not!" he sounded like he found the idea incredulous in itself. HOW COULD HE? when everything in him screamed of longing when he looked at her.

BARELY EVEN ADULTS, they brush the line of such an age where these things naturally become a consideration... YET HE STILL NEVER COULD HAVE DREAMED OF IT. but why did it have to be her? he doesn't think about it, not really. BUT WHEN HE DOES IT TURNS HIS STOMACH. protests stirring of such things which were irrelevant, as he'd never admitted it. ONLY DAYDREAMS. AND COULD HE, EVEN? they could never have a life. not here.

HE'S CERTAINLY A KINDER, MORE SOFT PRESENCE IN THIS STAGE OF HIS CAREER. sympathetic, to the slight detriment of his reputation. BUT HE HAD GOOD FRIENDS, HERE. friends who kept his secret, and left his . . . charge alone. the two of them are tucked away in a corner of the apprentice libraries, sitting with her studies open before her. A WEAKLY VEILED INTENT SHOULD SOMEONE VIEW THEM LIKE THIS.

he's smiling, watching her . . . stricken, as usual. brown eyes fond. "h-how could you -- i mean, i know --" he exhales, looking away with eyebrows raising. THE LABOR OF IT IS WEIGHTY. he feels like there's a brick sitting in the center of his chest. "i-i know some templars, they . . . well, t-to put it bluntly, they -- like hunting down apostate mages. or, sometimes doing things that downright shame the order." he looks down at the table, his armor clanking a bit. SMILE OUT OF PLACE, YET BORN OF HIS NERVOUSNESS. "but i- well i'm only here to help. a-and despite my duty to the maker," he peers back upward. "i will do so for everyone, i-if i am allowed." his lips twitch, threatening further ascent despite aforementioned eyebrows pulling inward, apologetically. "i could never hate you."

HE HADN'T EXPECTED THEM TO SEND HER HERE. not in his wildest dreams had he ever considered . . . why? why would she ask about him, of all people? WITH THE WAY HE'D ACTED, THE PERSON HE'D BECOME? the one even now that he's trying to reason with. was it too late to tear down the preconceptions and the doubts that had otherwise ruled his existence? ALL HE'D EVER WANTED TO DO IN THIS LIFE WAS HELP PEOPLE. and since he was a boy, the templars had been his heroes. misguided, childishness glittering against the swords of larger, armored men. and soon enough, he was their betters. BUT SOMEWHERE ALONG THE WAY HIS REASONS, HIS MORALS CHANGED. morals which only facilitated his rise within the order.

he hadn't always considered helping people the same way as he had after his mind had been MANGLED, AND TORN APART BY DEMONS. HE'D NOT ONLY WANTED TO KEEP THE CITIZENS OF FERELDEN SAFE, BUT THE MAGES AS WELL. and after what he'd gone through he'd found himself foolish for it. now, he's left to pick up these dual sides of himself and make a new man of it. BUT HE'S NOT SURE HOW. hoping his actions here would overshadow those years he's given to the order.

he'd fled when he'd heard the news . . . held up in his office, face pallid and sweat-lined in his near constant symptoms. SKIN CRAWLING WITH INTERNAL PROTEST AND DEBATE. reasoning with himself in a constant war, made separate from personal bindings the dreams had been bad enough, bridging the present to the past . . . AND THIS WASN'T HELPING. working to bring it all back. HIS HANDS UPON THE DESK, BREATHING RAGGED, BEFORE SHE ENTERS. and he freezes. somehow finding his body unfolding, in a slow rise from his stooped state.

YOU REMEMBER ME?

ONLY TOO WELL. HIS BODY NOW, IS NOT HIS OWN. perhaps he should be ashamed of the way his blood freezes in his veins upon the mere sight. the unconscious curl of leather-clad fingers about the hilt of his sword as shoulders sway in shifting of stance. a look of clear wariness crossing his raised features. for her lips were still akin to a ghost upon his mouth. he can still feel them, but too lightly and fleeting to be enough. WERE HIS MOST RECENT DREAMS TRICKING HIS MIND ALL OVER AGAIN? "yes --" he utters. his voice sounds faraway, shaky.

with flicks of bright eyes over her face, his heart aches . . . physically feeling as if squeezed by a stone fist. such amplified tenfold when he notices the position of his hand, which releases slowly. his face taking to screwing up softly in disgust with himself. and before he can think, he says : "-- forgive me." hand still slightly raised, it wavers as if it were foreign. breathing only having become more ragged as it stays, and he suddenly turns. CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. BRIDGE OF HIS NOSE PINCHED BETWEEN FINGERS. "i --" head tilts, shaking.

HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE DREAMED OF THIS? ALBEIT, IT HAD HAPPENED DIFFERENTLY. sometimes her shape would change when he'd bid her leave, and in others he would be prepared. SHE WOULD STAY, AND HE WOULD GIVE IN TO THE DREAM. but in those dreams she was never real. even if he had held onto a piece of her all of this time. EVEN IF A PART OF HIM WOULD ALWAYS ... "i'm afraid i'm -- not myself, at the moment. my lady." maybe i never have been, with you. or not since you.