5. 5: The Royal Treatment (1/2)

five

the royal treatment

his eyes fluttered open slowly, the waking world taking a few good minutes to make anything resembling sense to him. for some reason the livestock were quieter than usual. he was accustomed to starting every morning to the sounds of their bleating and clucking long before anyone had a chance to wake him, but everything in the chantry was strangely silent, today. glancing toward the stained-glass windows to gauge the time, he noticed through his sleepy haze that no light shone through, as of yet. wondering if it was still early hours, he blinked hard and strained to peer at the wall in front of him, where the prophet andraste should have been staring down at him. instead, he found only stone and a large open fire.

yawning, alistair scratched at his hair to satisfy an itch, and found to his surprise that his long locks had been cut away. "what?" he managed to get one foot on the ground before leaning up on an elbow, wiping the crust from the corners of his eyes.

as he raised his head to the bunk in front of him, realisation at last dawned.

"oh. right. the tower," he remembered sleepily. he'd been dreaming so vividly of the redcliffe chantry that he must have momentarily forgotten where he was. maker, what time was it now? the worst part about his new living situation that he'd discovered so far was the disheartening lack of windows to let precious daylight flood in. if this was an architectural precaution against escape, all it did was heighten his desire to flee all the more. how did the mages cope like this, let alone the templars?

that last thought made his eyes fly open again as his head shot up, effectively banging the top of his skull against the wooden frame of the bed above him. "ah! bloody…!"

alistair stood up unsteadily, holding the bedpost for balance with one hand and his aching head with the other as he looked around. no templars were present whatsoever, to his complete lack of surprise. not even that one with the stick up his backside from last night. no one had come for him; nobody had bothered to wake him. either they'd all snuck out quietly in yet another stupid prank, or he was a heavier sleeper than

other marvin had let on. the latter was most likely, anyhow.

with a heavy sigh, he turned half his body languidly and spotted cullen's pristine armour chest, deciding it was better to get dressed and go on with his day. he skulked to the end of the bed and lazily lifted the lid with a finger, rummaging through his friend's things for a spare set, and found one, as luck would have it. determined to find something to eat first, he started by pulling the chainmail greaves over the cloth trousers he'd "borrowed" as well.

"okay, so… that's done." alistair nodded in satisfaction after securing them in place with a belt. "now… which bit goes on next?"

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"er… sorry to bother you, ser knight, but i…"

cullen turned from his post at the archway in the li

ary, where renovations were still underway, to find a mage named niall standing meekly off to the side, a book opened in his hands. "yes?" he asked the timid man as flatly as he could, not wanting to sound too helpful. in truth, he was rather fond of niall and his mild temperament. they shared a common aversion and uncertainty when speaking to others, but it was frowned upon and even punishable at times to identify too readily with the mages.

"oh. uhm," niall stammered, "i was just… curious if the spiritorum etherialis was spared in the fire, or if it was moved to a safer area. i… couldn't find it on the shelf…"

frowning, cullen crossed his gauntlets over his steel armour. "are you trying to summon something?"

niall shook his head fretfully, his dark hair waving as he did so. "no! i mean, that is… no," he sighed, closing his eyes to gather his composure. the mage was a bundle of nerves around templars, but cullen knew it wasn't due to being a secret maleficar. on the contrary, really. from what he had observed of his training in magical arts, niall seemed genuinely frightened of his own abilities, and clearly worried they would do him real harm someday. more than likely, he'd end up joining the isolationist fraternity, preferring to hide away from the world rather than force it to bow to him, as some mages held delusions of tevinter grandeur. "i only wanted to study for my upcoming trials. i don't intend to cause more destruction to the li

ary with experimentation…"

"doesn't make much of a difference whether or not you mages intend to destroy anything," cullen muttered disdainfully. "it only matters whether you actually do, in the end."

"right. you're right," niall submitted without a fight, hesitating before bowing his head awkwardly. "i'll just… leave you to your guarding, then. thank you for not… well, thank you, anyway."

sighing, he watched as the mage began to walk away with a proverbial tail tucked between his legs. "niall," he called quietly, careful not to garner the attention of the tranquil as they worked to put books and tomes back in order on the slightly scorched shelves. when the mage turned, glancing around nervously after realising cullen knew him by name, he pointed behind him in indication. "section three. check the binding carefully. it might be harder to read the embossed gold title after… you know."

niall actually smiled faintly at that, a weight visibly lifting from his shoulders as he walked to the appropriate section, and for once it made cullen feel good to have helped.

this is why it was unwise to be friendly with the mages. it would be harder to kill them, if need be. but cullen didn't let that bother him for now. he'd been kind, and the maker bestowed blessings to those whom showed kindness to his children.

there was an annoying rapping like knuckles on hollow steel coming from the far end of the li

ary now. "hello? you in there?" a voice asked the empty armour on display obnoxiously.

"oh, maker's

eath, it's him," cullen mumbled after sparing a disbelieving glance in that direction, shrinking into himself as he inched through the doorway and out of the

other's immediate line of sight. closing his eyes, he fought the flush of humiliation crawling over his face, cheeks glowing red-hot.

"guess not," his voice carried in an absurd echo. "anybody seen that cullen fellow? oh, hello, owain! owain, you know who i'm looking for? templar

other, about my age or a bit older, chin scruff, surly bugger with a massive chip on his shoulder?"

he knows the bloody tranquil? andraste preserve me!

"that description fits a fair number of templars residing in the tower, young ser," he heard owain reply stoically. "can you be more specific?"

"ha! and you say you haven't got a sense of humour!"

"indeed, i do not."

"i beg to differ, my friend. so, have you seen cullen around? is he hiding somewhere?"

maker, please say no, please say no, he prayed earnestly, not wanting to be seen anywhere near the boy after the gossip he'd heard over

eakfast.

"he is on guard duty at the other end of the li

ary, in the side room just before the stairs to the next level."

"cheers, buddy!"

cullen heard his own voice cry out in dismay and covered his mouth just as niall turned in his studies to eye him curiously. this was the last thing he needed today, especially after the ribbing he'd received from other templars that morning during warm-ups. sure enough, it wasn't more than a handful of seconds later when alistair appeared in the archway, the smile somewhat

oadening on his face at sight of him.

eyeing the boy with a critical eye, cullen sneered accusingly, "is that… my armour you've got on?"

alistair laid a hand on the pommel of his stolen longsword and looked down as he moved to stand next to the templar. "probably," he shrugged dismissively. "it was in your chest, so chances are high."

"you went through my things?!"

"you left me on my cot and i didn't get any

eakfast," alistair countered, one

ow lifted sardonically, unamused. "i don't like missing

eakfast. it's the most important meal of the day, after all."

he had cullen there. he'd all but ignored the new recruit, trying to distance himself from claiming any responsibility for him, and had left without so much as barking his name to wake him. not that he would have heard him through all that talking in his sleep, anyway. "fine. we're even, then," cullen nodded once, refusing to look at him. "by the way, you should have borrowed my comb, while you were at it…"

silence fell over the two as they listened to the quiet organising in the other room, and he sighed as he moved to flank the archway again in order to observe the mages, watching as niall raised his hand and mouthed the words on the page, not daring to speak them aloud lest he cast a dangerous spell.

looking over to the right side of the room, where most of the activity was taking place, cullen was shocked to see alistair in his peripheral vision, standing in exactly the same position as he was at the other side of the arch. "what in andraste's name are you doing?" he bit out of the corner of his mouth curtly.

"guarding," alistair whispered back, raising a hand to his lips to shush him. "what's it look like i'm doing?"

rolling his eyes, cullen locked his gaze on the bookshelves ahead, aggravated that he'd dared tell him to keep quiet. "oh, that's rich… why don't you go ask the knight-commander if he has something better for –"

the large double doors behind them opened with a loud creak, the clanking of steel boots making their way down the stairs before it again shut securely behind them. steps marched out of sync in his direction, and cullen turned his head just in time to see a number of his fellows and friends making their way through the side room, effecting small nods of greeting upon passing through the door.

it wasn't until they spotted the boy next to him that their blank faces transformed into mischievous grins.

"well," ser geoffrey stopped before alistair, placing his steel gloves on his hips as he bowed low, "if it isn't his royal majesty come to grace us mere commoners with his illustrious presence!"

cullen winced and turned away, but not before he saw the former chantry

other stiffen in place, his eyes widening with alarm.