"We need to split up," he had told her. The Templars had almost been upon them and Catelyn was beginning to doubt that they would pull off an escape.

"We're stronger if we stick together," she argued. The two of them would have a chance against the Templars if they actually stood their ground. A chance, but not a very good one, she had to admit.

"No. This is our best bet. We'll lose them more easily that way. We'll meet in Highever in two days. You'll be fine. I promise."

She was stupid to have trusted him, she knew. And the knowledge had her seething as she sat in the back of the cart. She had seen him promise a thousand girls a thousand different things and she had somehow been dumb enough to think that she had been different. Maybe it had been because he wasn't feigning romance with her. Just friendship. But all that meant was that he had used her for her mind, instead of her body. She wasn't sure which was worse.

"We're here," one of her Templar captors told her.

She rolled her eyes. "Really? I thought we were at the docks of another huge tower in the middle of a lake…" She held no hope for leniency and so didn't bother to keep her mouth in check.

The Templar simply responded by gripping her arm roughly as he dragged her to the boat. The trip across the lake was, mercifully, short, but Catelyn couldn't help but mourn her freedom as she figured that this would probably be the last time she saw the sky. At least, the last time she would be able to appreciate the sight. The Tranquil never seemed to care for such things.

Her captors brought her into the entryway where Knight-Commander Greagoir was waiting for her. She found Irving's absence both alarming and telling.

"Where's the other one?" Greagoir asked her captors as they approached.

"He got away and we didn't want to delay bringing this one back."

Greagoir nodded. "A wise choice."

Catelyn took that to mean that she was the more prized of the two apostates, making her smile just a little. She figured that she had to savour these last few moments of happiness.

Greagoir turned to her, frowning at her smile. "If you know where he is, the information would be a sign of good faith."

She wasn't dumb enough to believe that it would change anything and so shrugged. "If I knew, I would sell that backstabbing bastard out in a heartbeat."

That seemed to be good enough for Greagoir and, for once, she was glad of her companion's well-deserved reputation.

"Where's Irving?" she asked. "I want to see him."

Greagoir shook his head at that. "Unfortunately, he doesn't want to see you. Take her to confinement, boys."

"For how long?" she asked as the Templar grabbed her arm once more.

She received no reply.

She was promptly escorted to one of the isolated chambers and locked in. The setting was familiar enough and she noted that her clothing had been brought in for her, though nothing else. There was a chamber pot, a bed with her clothes folded onto it, and a conspicuously bare bedside table. Nothing else. Not even a window, since the room had no sides on the outer wall.

She settled in, running through practice drills with an imaginary staff as she had nothing else to occupy her mind.

One day turned into two and she had no expectation of being let out. Food was waiting for her when she woke up, along with a jug of water for drinking and, every other day, a tub of water for washing. Every night, while she slept, they were replaced, but she saw no one come or go.

Two days turned into a week and she realised that it had been too long. If they were going to make her tranquil, they would have done it already. Unless they were arguing about it. But who was arguing for her? It had been a week and no one had visited. She suspected that the other apprentices weren't allowed, but Irving? If he had wanted to see her, he would have.

"He doesn't want to see you," Greagoir had told her and she believed it. He had been disappointed in her the other times that she had run off but… in the last year or so he had perceived her dedication to her training as an acceptance of her life here. And maybe that had been true for a time.

But no longer.

She could imagine how great his disappointment would be this time and it both shamed and frightened her. Yet, still, it would be better than this absence. Than the belief that he had given up on her.

She had no avenue of information. The closest person was the guard at the door and, if Gregoir handpicked him, she doubted that she would get anything out of him.

Still, she had to try.

"So, what did you do to get put on guard duty?" She received no reply. "Anything too terrible or just usual complacency? Or, who knows, maybe this is a cushy gig for a Templar. Just stand there. There are a thousand magical barriers between you and me. You're in no danger and you don't have to put up with anyone but me. I guess you might get lonely, though…"

Still, there was no reply. And, yet, she didn't stop her rambling. She figured that she just had to get one word from him. If she could just get him to acknowledge her in some way, then she would have her opening.

But she had no such luck. By the time his shift finished, she was no closer to success. And so she tried with his replacement.

She continued this pattern for another week.

She tried to identify which Templars were guarding her but she only had a tiny, barred slit in the door to peer through. They all wore full armour and stood standing facing the opposite wall. They were like statues - no, gargoyles - making sure that she stayed put.

It was another week before she made any progress.

"Come on," she practically whined at the Templar beyond her door as she finished up her training exercises. "I have been starved for human contact for weeks… Seriously, I'd take anything at this point. Even being called filthy mage scum! You Templars love that." She changed tactics as the silence persisted. "What if I promise to answer a question? Any question you can think of. I promise I'll tell the truth. Maybe where I went when I left… or maybe who the sluttiest apprentice is? You Templars are all secretly depraved, right? Maybe you're standing there, secretly wondering the colour of my underwear…"

"Why?" The word seemed to be out of his mouth before the Templar could stop it.

And that was it. She had her in. "Why what?"

He shifted a little, visibly uncertain even beneath his armour. Silently debating whether or not to ask. But, eventually, he did. "Why did you leave?"

It was enough for her to identify his voice. Ser Cullen. And here she was thinking that his affection for her had been more than obvious. But, evidently, Greagoir hadn't picked up on it, otherwise he wouldn't be here, guarding her.

She had always found the way he looked at her a little threatening. She had seen Templars look at other apprentices like that and she knew how well it ended. Luckily for her, every time she caught Ser Cullen's eye, he had looked away, ashamed. But she knew that it was only a matter of time. Every man had their breaking point and she would be, essentially, helpless when he reached his.

And now he might just be her ticket to freedom. She could have laughed at the irony as a plot began to form in her mind. It would be unpleasant and more than a little cruel, requiring all of her cunning. But she wasn't a victim. She refused to be. And that required getting out.

"I…" she started, haltingly. He had to believe that she was repentant and, for that, he had to believe that she believed that she had made a mistake. She had to appear vulnerable. To give him something that he would want to protect. "I no longer felt safe here…"

He turned so that he was facing her through the barred slit, his eyes searching her for any sign of deceit. "Why not?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Evidently he did, since she saw nothing but confusion in his gaze. "Besides, A-" She couldn't even bring herself to say the stupid bastard's name. "Besides the apostate I ran away with, Alana was my only friend here."

His eyes widened at that. "The apprentice who…"

She nodded as he trailed off. "I couldn't stay here any longer…" She knew that her lies had to contain an element of truth for this to work, but it was a little too far when she felt real tears form behind her eyes. "This wasn't a good idea… I should have just left you to your silent guarding," she told him quickly before heading to the bed and curling up, facing the wall away from the door.

It was several minutes before she heard the sound of armour clanging, informing her that he had returned to his post.

Catelyn stopped bothering with the rest of the guards, simply biding her time until Cullen was assigned to her again.

And then, when he was, she ignored him like all of the rest. She heard his armour as he fidgeted but still she continued on with her practice as if she didn't know he was there.

"I… I wanted to apologise."

She was glad that her practice had her facing away from the door as he spoke, allowing her to smile without him realising.

This was almost too easy.

"For what?" she asked as she turned to face him, giving him her best blank look.

He shrugged awkwardly in his armour. "For asking what I did, the last time I was here. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

She looked away as she responded. "It was fair enough. I told you that I would answer any question. And… maybe it was time. To face what happened, I mean." She was careful to keep her features mostly stony. Becoming too comfortable and vulnerable with him too quickly would be a dead giveaway.

"You truly cared for her, didn't you?"

"She was my friend," Catelyn answered simply. "That means something to me."

He regarded her carefully and she saw that, in this case, the truth was exactly the right route. He took her words as something noble. Something that would only affirm his feelings for her. Catelyn didn't think that way – it was simply how she was – but she knew that others did.

"It really does, doesn't it?"

She shrugged. "I know I'm not easy to get along with. Most don't bother, they don't see the point, but the few who stick around long enough to count as friends… They are dearer to me than I have words for…"

"I see the point," he told her, his earnest gaze almost making her feel guilty for this farce.

Almost.

"I more than see the point of being your friend," he continued on.

The point between your legs, you mean? She kept her thought silent, instead giving him a smile which was just the right combination of shy and sad.

"Then you would be the only one," she said aloud, her gaze dropping a little.

He was about to reply but stopped himself, immediately returning to his post. Evidently, he had heard something Catelyn had not, possibly someone else coming.

They didn't speak again for the rest of his shift.

"Catelyn?"

The nervous voice through the door told her that the guards had changed once more and Cullen had returned. It must have literally just been in the last few moments, when she had finally allowed her attention to lapse.

She hurried over to the door, giving him a shy smile. "Ser Cullen," she greeted.

He seemed a little flustered at that. "Please… erm… You don't… You can drop the 'Ser'…"

She nodded, keeping her smile going. "I…" She trailed off, as if uncertain she should continue. Then she took a deep breath, as if to steel herself, before speaking once more. "I missed you," she admitted, doing her best to look vulnerable and scared as she made her eyes dart across his features, as if desperately searching for some indication as to his response, biting her lip just a little.

He, to her relief, broke out into a grin. "I missed you too," he told her as he moved his hand up, before realising that, armoured as it was, he couldn't bring it through the door between them. She imagined that, if he had been able, he would have brought it to her cheek. She had to curse this damn door. This would be so much easier with physical contact. So much easier to break down his barriers and use him a tool in her escape.

"Here, I got you something," he told her, interrupting her thoughts. He passed her a book through the bars in the door.

She couldn't help but gape at it. Not just because it must have been difficult for him to smuggle out of the library, but because it was her favourite. For him to have noticed that… She wasn't sure how to feel about that. The thought that he had been watching her so intently, no matter how benign his intent was right now, sent a chill down her spine. But… it also gave her hope. Hope that his feelings for her went deeper than first expected and that he would be far easier to manipulate than she first thought.

"I… thank you…" she managed, her voice small with emotion, which she hoped he would take as gratitude.

He shrugged. "I know you're bored in here. I… I'd seen you with that one a few times so I figured it was a safe bet."

"It's my favourite," she told him.

"What's it about?"

She found that she didn't actually open the book while Cullen was on guard, instead she found herself talking with him about it, as well as about others she loved. He was attentive and, to her surprise, actually had intelligent questions and responses. She'd always figured that mabari were more intelligent than Templars.

The conversation was… not unpleasant, and she found herself having to fake her smile less and less.

Good, she figured as the guard shift changed and she hid the book under her mattress. The less she'd have to fake it, the easier it would be.

It took three more of Cullen's shifts before he drew a real laugh from her.

The sound surprised Catelyn just as much as it delighted Cullen. It was a sign that she had let her guard down, if only for a second. That wasn't something she could afford. Not here and not now. Not with him. He was her jailor and his armour marked him as brother to the monster who had killed her friend. No matter how sweet he seemed, it was just hiding the monster. The one that would kill her, if given the chance.

She had to get out before she let her guard down further. If she didn't get out, she would die here, and they would take her soul long before.

"You have a nice laugh, Cat," Cullen told her, blushing a little.

She winced away from the shortening of her name. Only two people had ever called her that and they had both abandoned her. "Don't call me Cat," she told him, a little sharper than she had meant to.

He seemed a little taken aback by her response but it was quickly replaced by concern. "Okay, Catelyn. I'm sorry."

She sighed, realising that she had better offer him an explanation so as not to harm the progress she had made. Especially if she was going to have to accelerate her plan somewhat. "I… My father used to call me that," she told him, looking away. Would he even understand? Could he? How many children had he torn from their parents? How many times had he been that Templar? Often enough, she figured.

"From what I've seen… most apprentices want to remember their families…"

She shrugged. "Some do. For some, coming here is a 'good' thing. It's warm, you never starve, you're taught to read and write and other skills that most never have the opportunity to learn… Some leave home with the knowledge that they are loved and knowing that this is their best bet to learn to control their powers…"

"But not you?"

"Having a mage in the family was… problematic for my parents. I was handed to the Templars in secret and given a new identity." She didn't know why she was telling him this. She'd never told anyone the truth. She was Catelyn Amell, an only child. That truth had been the one she had given everyone who asked but… Cullen brought this anger straight to the surface. Her parents had the resources to shelter her from the Templars. They could have found her a teacher and she could have hidden. But no. Instead, she had been handed over to be imprisoned. The child she had once been 'died' that day. Cat had died. "They abandoned me," she said simply, turning away. She didn't want him to see the real weakness showing through.

She heard him shift in her armour behind her before another sound. Something that had, perhaps, once been familiar to her, but was now forgotten.

"Catelyn…" The sound of his voice was right behind her, causing her to spin around, finding herself face to face with the Templar beyond the door.

It had been the sound of that door opening.

And it being left open…

But then Cullen's hand was on her cheek as she realised that he had removed his gauntlets. Human contact. How long had it been since she had felt someone else's skin against her own? Far too long. She couldn't bring herself to pull away.

"It's their loss," he told her softly.

His gaze locked with her own and she lost her breath for a moment. However, once it returned, she mentally slapped herself. The door was open. This was what she had been waiting for. But she knew that his attention was fully on her. There was no way she could make a break for it. Maybe if she could get his key from him and lock him in, but that was still risky. She realised that her best bet would be to get him to lower his guard so that she could stun him without him blocking her. But there was only one way to do that.

She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in what she hoped was an adequate kiss.

She'd never kissed anyone before.

He reciprocated fully, bringing his free hand to the small of her back so that he could pull her against him. She found herself up against the cold steel of his armour, reminding her that there was another side to the warmth of his touch. The side that would be her doom if she was not careful.

"Catelyn," he started as he momentarily parted his lips from hers, "I love you…"

She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him once more. That was one lie she wouldn't tell. Not even with her freedom in the balance.

He, thankfully, seemed to take her response as a sign that she felt the same. He moved both of his down to lift her up, reminding her that he was very much a soldier. He spent his days in heavy armour and was trained in combat. Of course he would be strong. And, while she hadn't been starved since retuning, neither had she grown fat. And living as an apostate for a couple of months had stripped from her any extra weight she might have once carried from her cushy lifestyle in the tower.

Still, life as an apostate had been better. A gilded cage was still a cage and the opportunity to shape her own future had been the greatest thing she could imagine.

Which was why she didn't object to Cullen placing her back down on her bed, his hands moving down to undo her robes at the bodice. She wanted his attention on her firmly. She began to gather mana, just the tiniest trickle, just to see if he'd notice. He didn't, his mind was firmly on her body beneath him as his hands moved to her, now uncovered, breasts.

It took all of her effort not to pull away from him. But she did increase the flow of mana just a little, desperate to end this before his hands travelled lower. There was only so much she was willing to give up for this.

Thankfully, just as one of his hands began to travel downwards once more, she finally gathered enough mana to stun him with a mind blast.

He sat, completely unable to move or process what was happening around him.

Catelyn felt a pang of guilt as she laced herself back up. It wasn't his fault; he just happened to be the most pliable guard.

"I'm sorry," she said, knowing that he couldn't hear her, before leaning in to kiss him lightly on the cheek before darting to the door.

She knew the tower intimately and years as a rebellious teenager had taught her its every back passage and unguarded staircase.

She managed to almost reach the entrance without interference.

Almost.

"You won't get far without a staff," she heard a familiar voice tell her from behind.

Irving.

She turned to see him standing there with her own staff in his hands.

She shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. "I'm sure I'll manage."

"I'm sure you could. But, still, tilting the odds in your favour never hurt."

She narrowed her eyes a little. Was he giving her staff back? "No. I guess it doesn't."

"I will return your staff on one condition."

There it was. She folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"You listen to an old man just one more time."

She sighed but nodded. "Alright then. Say what you must. But don't think anything you can say to me will convince me to stay."

"If you leave again, the Templars will simply catch you again and make you Tranquil."

"A chance I am willing to take. Let's face it, at this point, there's no way Greagoir will sign off on me taking the Harrowing. I will be made Tranquil either way. It's just a matter of time."

"Don't be so sure. And, as I'm sure you know, a mage who has passed her Harrowing cannot be made Tranquil."

She gave him a disbelieving look. "You mean…"

"I have convinced Greagoir to give you one last chance. Provided, of course, you don't do anything stupid. Like, say, trying to escape. Your Harrowing is scheduled for next week."

She continued to look at him blankly. "You convinced him?" she finally asked.

He shrugged. "Well, I had a little help. A Grey Warden visited with the intention of recruiting you. Greagoir wouldn't allow it while you were in confinement, especially since you haven't passed your Harrowing yet. The Grey Warden left to follow up on another promising recruit in Highever, but promised that he would return after your Harrowing."

He passed her the staff. It felt good and familiar in her hands. Like being reunited with an old friend.

"You can, of course, leave now and take your chances. Or, you could return to your cell and see out your last week of confinement. Assuming, of course, that you haven't killed your guard."

She shook her head. "No. I… I can fix it…"

"Then I suppose the question is; will you?"

She took a step towards him, regarding her mentor closely. He really did remind her of her father. Not the man who had abandoned her, but who he had been before her magic had manifested. "I thought you would be angry," she eventually admitted. "That you had given up on me…"

He just shook his head and smiled. "Never, child. After what happened to Alana… I want you to live the life you choose. I just don't want you to die for that choice."

"Thank you," she told him earnestly before hurrying off. Cullen would only stay stunned for so long.

She returned to her cell to see Cullen, thankfully, still stunned. She moved quickly over to the opposite end of the room, stashing her staff out of his sight before undoing her robes a little once more. She sat down, huddled on the floor. Irving's words about Alana already had tears welling just below the surface and she allowed them to flow.

When Cullen finally came to, he saw her in a huddled mess and gave her a confused look.

She shook her head, doing her best to seem terrified. "I… I'm so sorry. I just… I've never been with anyone before and… you were going so fast…" She desperately hoped that she had judged his character accurately. This act depended on his nice guy persona actually being real.

He nodded, looking ashamed. "I… I'm so sorry… I didn't realise… I should have… Perhaps this was the wakeup call we needed. After all… A mage and a Templar… It could never work between us."

This was where she really had to sell it, she realised, getting up and shaking her head as she moved over to him, placing one hand on his cheek. "No. Don't do this. I was just scared. I don't want to lose you."

"I don't want to lose you either," he told her softly and she was sure that she heard a crack in his voice.

"Then don't."

He gave her one last, brief kiss before he moved away, back towards the door. "No. If this were a different life, Catelyn, I would not hesitate to spend it with you. But I am a Templar. I have a duty and I took vows. I won't forsake that. Not even for you."

She gave him a teary look of understanding as she nodded. "Then I suppose this is goodbye."

"I suppose it is," he replied as he left the cell, locking the door behind him as he went.

Cullen didn't return as her guard for the rest of her confinement.

Not that it mattered, she finally decided as she was being let out. It wouldn't matter once she passed her Harrowing and this Grey Warden returned for her. She'd probably never see him again.

"I thought they'd never let you out," Jowan complained at her as she finally left confinement behind her. Jowan was on that strange cusp between 'someone she knew' and a 'friend'. But he was the only person left in the tower she was even vaguely close to. It meant a lot to her that he was waiting to greet her as she was let out.

"I guess the Maker's taken a shine to me," she joked simply.

Tomorrow she'd take her Harrowing and her life would finally begin.

AN: I might write more of Catelyn. I haven't decided yet...