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Description
Title:                            A Shattered Amell – It's Harrowing
Author:                        mcomommy
Game:                         Dragon Age
Characters:                  Shattered Amell, Cullen
Disclaimer:                  Dragon Age and all characters from it belong to Bioware.
Content Warning:         Angst, Mage Origin Spoilers

A Shattered Amell
It's Harrowing

     "Could you…could we just…stop.  For a moment.  Please," Cullen called, taking his helm off and leaning against the cool stone wall of the hall leading to the apprentice quarters.  Carroll stopped, turning to look quizzically back at him.

     Closing his eyes, Cullen willed his nerves to calm.  Knight-Commander Greagoir had woken him barely half an hour ago, calling him to armor up – it was time.  Swallowing his nerves, Cullen had just nodded, knowing exactly what Greagoir was talking about.  Now, though, walking down the hall to wake Shattered, the butterflies were sending waves of nausea through him.  The delicious stew he'd had for dinner sat heavy in his belly, feeling disgusting as it congealed.

     Wiping the cold sweat away from his forehead, Cullen fought the urge to vomit.

     "Uhh, you're not coming down with something, are you?  Because if you are, I'm not so sure I want to stand near you.  Nothing personal, it just might be," Carroll shrugged, "catchy."

     "Uh, no.  I…umm…I just," Cullen paused, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, "Just give me a moment, will you?"  He turned his back to Carroll, taking a ragged breath that did nothing to help settle his nerves.

     "Oh, I get it," Carroll replied, sudden enlightenment lending compassion to his voice.  "We're going for her aren't we?"  Sympathy filled his eyes.  "I feel for you, man.  I really do," he scuffed a toe at a dust mote on the floor of the passage.  He shrugged, his plate armor unnecessarily loud in their quite surroundings, making Cullen cringe.  "It's all over the Templar wing, you know?  How Greagoir ordered you to be the one.  The first time is always the hardest, they say," he patted Cullen's shoulder comfortingly.

     That gave Cullen a brief amount of relief.  Carroll, like the others, had thought his nervousness came from being the one chosen to end it in case Shattered fell to a demon during her harrowing, and not from the fact that it was her harrowing.

     "Buck up, chap.  Happy thoughts, eyes of the Maker, in His name and all that," Carroll smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

     Cullen snorted, shaking his head.  Sometimes he wondered if his friend was getting a touch lyrium addled already.

     "Alright," he replied, settling his helm back into place.  "Let's go."  With a nod, the two resumed their way toward the apprentice quarters.  Each step made his body feel more heavy, weighed down by his armor, by his very faith.  Could the Maker, and Andraste, really want this?  Could they really want him to kill…to snuff out the life of someone as sweet and beautiful as Sha?  Her life had already been so full of pain.  Cullen felt each step through his bones, reverberating  from the soles of his feet to the base of his skull where it stuck, aching in the back of his mind where his doubts lay, picking at his mind.

     Far sooner than he wanted, they arrived at the door that would lead him to Shattered.

     "I'll, umm…I'll just stay here while you get her, if it's all the same to you," Carroll said.

     Nodding gravely, Cullen pushed the door open lightly.  Quietly, he stepped into the darkened room, making his way to Shattered's bedside.  He gazed down at her, a small bit of starlight shining through the window to light her face, peaceful in her dreams.  Careful to make as little noise as possible, Cullen knelt at her bedside; pulling one of his gauntlets off to reach a shaking hand out, his trembling fingers reverently touching lavender hair.  Moving a wisp of hair from her cheek, Cullen memorized the feel of her skin against his fingers, the silkiness of her hair.  He pulled in a deep breath, letting the smell of raspberries tickle his brain.

     "Shattered," he whispered softly, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb softly tracing over delicate lips.  She moaned softly in her sleep, sending a flush across the templar's face as his blood heated, flaming through his veins.  Pulling his hand away, Cullen coughed slightly, embarrassed at his bodies reaction.  "Shattered," he whispered again, louder, unwilling to reach out to her again for fear of any more traitorous reactions he might have.

     "Hmmm?  I…what?"  Sha mumbled, rubbing a hand groggily across her eyes.  She blinked up at him, a slight tremble in her lip the only indication of her fear as she pulled her blanket up to her chin.

     "Sha," Cullen said softly, reassured when she relaxed and smiled sleepily up at him.  "It's time."

     Understanding lit in her eyes, followed by a flash of fear and then sorrow as her smile faded, mouth drawn into a tight line.  She nodded, throwing her blanket off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand, her nightgown clinging lightly to her delicate frame.  There was only one reason the templars would be coming to get her in the middle of the night.  Once she left this room, took their test, there would be no going back.  Never again would she be who she was in this very moment.  Shattered looked down at herself, wondering if she would miss the person she was.

     Her harrowing.

     Offering a sad smile to Cullen, she turned to her footlocker, gathering her robes.

     "Do you intend to watch me dress, Ser Cullen, or do you trust me to join you in the hall when I'm finished," Sha asked playfully, glancing at him shyly over her shoulder.

     For the second time in as few minutes, Cullen was grateful for the closed face of the templar helm hiding the flush on his cheeks.  Pulling his gauntlet back on, Cullen thumbed over his shoulder to the hallway.

     "I'll..uh…I'll just be waiting.  Outside," he ducked his head and turned quickly away, mind burning with the image of Shattered.  Standing there in her white nightgown.  Soft fabric hugging to her gentle curves.  Maker help him.  Cullen hurried into the hallway.

     Shattered offered a tentative smile as she followed after Cullen a few moments later.  Carroll gave her a jaunty wave before gesturing for her to proceed them down the hall.

     "She'll be fine," Carroll whispered as they climbed the never ending stairs to the Harrowing Chamber.

     "Maker, I hope so," Cullen answered.  "What they ask of me," he paused shaking his head, "I'm not sure I can do."

     Shrugging, Carroll looked to him, "I'm not sure that's your choice," he nodded to Shattered as she continued climbing ahead of them.  "It's completely up to her whether you will need to..," Carroll trailed off, eyes locking with Cullen's through the slit in their helms, "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, shall we?"

     Cullen paused, clutching convulsively at his stomach while the butterflies churned up a fresh batch of raw nerves as he watched Carroll cheerfully continue after Sha.  If she couldn't withstand the demons…he would have to do something he didn't want to.  He didn't know if he would be able to, or if he could forgive himself if he did.  It was a test for him, too.

     His harrowing.

     There it was.  The top of the stairs.  The door.  Shattered reached forward hesitantly, laying her palm against wood worn with age.  Beyond this lay her future, or her death.  There was no turning back.  She wondered briefly if she would see this side of the door again once she passed through, and then Carroll was there, brushing past her and pushing the door open as he continued on into the chamber ahead of her.

     "Good luck," Cullen whispered from behind her, his hand gently touching her arm.

     Her smile trembled slightly as she looked back at him, her heart pounding in her ears.  Squaring her shoulders, she walked in.

     Greagoir and Irving turned toward her; Sha smiled.  They were proud of her, she knew.  The two men who had supported her the most, no matter how inconspicuously.  They believed in her ability, that she would be successful in her Harrowing, and so she must believe in herself as well.

     "You're magic is a gift, but also a curse," Greagoir addressed her, willing her to understand the necessity of this final test.  "The demons of the fade are drawn to you.  They seek to use you as a gateway to this world.  Especially a mage like you, Shattered," gently, the Knight-Commander reached out, resting his hand on Sha's face, cupping her cheek much how Cullen had moments before.

     "It is not often we see one so young with your potential," Irving clarified.  "They will be drawn to you like a moth to the flame.  The ritual will send you into the fade.  Armed with only your will, you will face a demon."  Irving's voice took on a hard edge, "You must defeat it.  You must prove your ability to resist."

     Shattered nodded her understanding.  Greagoir fidgeted slightly, looking uncomfortable.

     "You must resist," he said fervently.  "If you don't," he shook his head, reluctant to continue.  Finally, he reached out, gripping her shoulders firmly, almost painfully.  "If you don't, you will turn into an abomination, and we will be forced to slay you."  He gave her a light shake.  "Do you understand, girl?"  His voice dropped, "I don't want to see that.  Not you, I couldn't stand it.  Do you understand?"

     Numbly, Shattered nodded again, her voice gone.  She had known before that would be her fate if she failed, but to hear it said out loud forced it from the dark corners of her mind.  Briefly, her imagination flashed on the image of Cullen, kneeling over her limp body while he held her slight form with one hand on her back between her shoulder blades, the other on the grip of his sword, its tip resting on the ground and its blade against her neck.  A shiver went through her body, goose bumps covering her arms as she swallowed convulsively, running a hand over her throat where she imagined she could already feel his blade, her eyes searching among the templars in attendance to pick him out.

     Shaking herself, Shattered made an effort to focus on Greagoir's words.

     "This is lyrium," he told her, gesturing to a pedestal, smoky tendrils drifting down its sides.  "The very essence of magic, and your gateway into the fade."

     "Keep your wits about you, things are not what they seem.  Remember," Irving advised, "the fade is a realm of dreams.  The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

     "Every mage must go through this trial," Greagoir told her.  "As they have succeeded, so will you.  I have no doubt."

     "There is nothing more we can do to aid you," Irving told her, gently.  "Once you enter the fade you will be on your own."

     "She will succeed," Greagoir told Irving firmly.  "You are ready."  His gaze was steady as he looked at her, his voice confident.

     Shattered smiled.  She wished she was as sure of her success as he was.  Reaching out, she gave Irving's hand a soft squeeze, and offered Greagoir a bright smile before walking forward to the pedestal.

     Reaching out, Shattered spread her hand wide over the lyrium.  Her magic reacted, pulling at her as it strained toward the lyrium, surging through her.  The lyrium seemed just as eager to get to her magic, the tendrils she'd seen earlier reaching toward her hand, wrapping around her.

     Sha made a face.  Where the magic and lyrium touched, intertwining, she felt tingling.  Prickles along her skin and in her blood, it resonated in her bones.  She gasped as her magic and the lyrium had its way, ripping her consciousness from her body to the fade, leaving her physical form to collapse into Greagoir's waiting arms.

     "Knight-Commander, Ser," Cullen called nervously, stepping forward as Greagoir and Irving carefully lay Sha to the chamber floor as comfortably as they could.

     "Yes, Ser Cullen," Greagoir answered absently, his eyes locked to Shattered's closed lids as her eyes darted back and forth under them, looking at something in the fade he couldn't fathom.

     "What you said…before…to Sh…Miss Amell.  Did you mean it, Ser?"

     Greagoir's brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what the young templar could mean.  "About her succeeding," he asked tentatively, a slight smile gracing his face at Cullen's enthusiastic nod.  Standing, Greagoir put a reassuring hand to the younger man's shoulder.

     "I meant every word of it."

Description
Title:                            A Shattered Amell – It's Harrowing
Author:                        mcomommy
Game:                         Dragon Age
Characters:                  Shattered Amell, Cullen
Disclaimer:                  Dragon Age and all characters from it belong to Bioware.
Content Warning:         Angst, Mage Origin Spoilers

A Shattered Amell
It's Harrowing

     "Could you…could we just…stop.  For a moment.  Please," Cullen called, taking his helm off and leaning against the cool stone wall of the hall leading to the apprentice quarters.  Carroll stopped, turning to look quizzically back at him.

     Closing his eyes, Cullen willed his nerves to calm.  Knight-Commander Greagoir had woken him barely half an hour ago, calling him to armor up – it was time.  Swallowing his nerves, Cullen had just nodded, knowing exactly what Greagoir was talking about.  Now, though, walking down the hall to wake Shattered, the butterflies were sending waves of nausea through him.  The delicious stew he'd had for dinner sat heavy in his belly, feeling disgusting as it congealed.

     Wiping the cold sweat away from his forehead, Cullen fought the urge to vomit.

     "Uhh, you're not coming down with something, are you?  Because if you are, I'm not so sure I want to stand near you.  Nothing personal, it just might be," Carroll shrugged, "catchy."

     "Uh, no.  I…umm…I just," Cullen paused, swallowing against the bile rising in his throat, "Just give me a moment, will you?"  He turned his back to Carroll, taking a ragged breath that did nothing to help settle his nerves.

     "Oh, I get it," Carroll replied, sudden enlightenment lending compassion to his voice.  "We're going for her aren't we?"  Sympathy filled his eyes.  "I feel for you, man.  I really do," he scuffed a toe at a dust mote on the floor of the passage.  He shrugged, his plate armor unnecessarily loud in their quite surroundings, making Cullen cringe.  "It's all over the Templar wing, you know?  How Greagoir ordered you to be the one.  The first time is always the hardest, they say," he patted Cullen's shoulder comfortingly.

     That gave Cullen a brief amount of relief.  Carroll, like the others, had thought his nervousness came from being the one chosen to end it in case Shattered fell to a demon during her harrowing, and not from the fact that it was her harrowing.

     "Buck up, chap.  Happy thoughts, eyes of the Maker, in His name and all that," Carroll smiled, giving him a thumbs up.

     Cullen snorted, shaking his head.  Sometimes he wondered if his friend was getting a touch lyrium addled already.

     "Alright," he replied, settling his helm back into place.  "Let's go."  With a nod, the two resumed their way toward the apprentice quarters.  Each step made his body feel more heavy, weighed down by his armor, by his very faith.  Could the Maker, and Andraste, really want this?  Could they really want him to kill…to snuff out the life of someone as sweet and beautiful as Sha?  Her life had already been so full of pain.  Cullen felt each step through his bones, reverberating  from the soles of his feet to the base of his skull where it stuck, aching in the back of his mind where his doubts lay, picking at his mind.

     Far sooner than he wanted, they arrived at the door that would lead him to Shattered.

     "I'll, umm…I'll just stay here while you get her, if it's all the same to you," Carroll said.

     Nodding gravely, Cullen pushed the door open lightly.  Quietly, he stepped into the darkened room, making his way to Shattered's bedside.  He gazed down at her, a small bit of starlight shining through the window to light her face, peaceful in her dreams.  Careful to make as little noise as possible, Cullen knelt at her bedside; pulling one of his gauntlets off to reach a shaking hand out, his trembling fingers reverently touching lavender hair.  Moving a wisp of hair from her cheek, Cullen memorized the feel of her skin against his fingers, the silkiness of her hair.  He pulled in a deep breath, letting the smell of raspberries tickle his brain.

     "Shattered," he whispered softly, his hand cupping her cheek, thumb softly tracing over delicate lips.  She moaned softly in her sleep, sending a flush across the templar's face as his blood heated, flaming through his veins.  Pulling his hand away, Cullen coughed slightly, embarrassed at his bodies reaction.  "Shattered," he whispered again, louder, unwilling to reach out to her again for fear of any more traitorous reactions he might have.

     "Hmmm?  I…what?"  Sha mumbled, rubbing a hand groggily across her eyes.  She blinked up at him, a slight tremble in her lip the only indication of her fear as she pulled her blanket up to her chin.

     "Sha," Cullen said softly, reassured when she relaxed and smiled sleepily up at him.  "It's time."

     Understanding lit in her eyes, followed by a flash of fear and then sorrow as her smile faded, mouth drawn into a tight line.  She nodded, throwing her blanket off and swinging her legs over the side of the bed to stand, her nightgown clinging lightly to her delicate frame.  There was only one reason the templars would be coming to get her in the middle of the night.  Once she left this room, took their test, there would be no going back.  Never again would she be who she was in this very moment.  Shattered looked down at herself, wondering if she would miss the person she was.

     Her harrowing.

     Offering a sad smile to Cullen, she turned to her footlocker, gathering her robes.

     "Do you intend to watch me dress, Ser Cullen, or do you trust me to join you in the hall when I'm finished," Sha asked playfully, glancing at him shyly over her shoulder.

     For the second time in as few minutes, Cullen was grateful for the closed face of the templar helm hiding the flush on his cheeks.  Pulling his gauntlet back on, Cullen thumbed over his shoulder to the hallway.

     "I'll..uh…I'll just be waiting.  Outside," he ducked his head and turned quickly away, mind burning with the image of Shattered.  Standing there in her white nightgown.  Soft fabric hugging to her gentle curves.  Maker help him.  Cullen hurried into the hallway.

     Shattered offered a tentative smile as she followed after Cullen a few moments later.  Carroll gave her a jaunty wave before gesturing for her to proceed them down the hall.

     "She'll be fine," Carroll whispered as they climbed the never ending stairs to the Harrowing Chamber.

     "Maker, I hope so," Cullen answered.  "What they ask of me," he paused shaking his head, "I'm not sure I can do."

     Shrugging, Carroll looked to him, "I'm not sure that's your choice," he nodded to Shattered as she continued climbing ahead of them.  "It's completely up to her whether you will need to..," Carroll trailed off, eyes locking with Cullen's through the slit in their helms, "Well, let's hope it doesn't come to that, shall we?"

     Cullen paused, clutching convulsively at his stomach while the butterflies churned up a fresh batch of raw nerves as he watched Carroll cheerfully continue after Sha.  If she couldn't withstand the demons…he would have to do something he didn't want to.  He didn't know if he would be able to, or if he could forgive himself if he did.  It was a test for him, too.

     His harrowing.

     There it was.  The top of the stairs.  The door.  Shattered reached forward hesitantly, laying her palm against wood worn with age.  Beyond this lay her future, or her death.  There was no turning back.  She wondered briefly if she would see this side of the door again once she passed through, and then Carroll was there, brushing past her and pushing the door open as he continued on into the chamber ahead of her.

     "Good luck," Cullen whispered from behind her, his hand gently touching her arm.

     Her smile trembled slightly as she looked back at him, her heart pounding in her ears.  Squaring her shoulders, she walked in.

     Greagoir and Irving turned toward her; Sha smiled.  They were proud of her, she knew.  The two men who had supported her the most, no matter how inconspicuously.  They believed in her ability, that she would be successful in her Harrowing, and so she must believe in herself as well.

     "You're magic is a gift, but also a curse," Greagoir addressed her, willing her to understand the necessity of this final test.  "The demons of the fade are drawn to you.  They seek to use you as a gateway to this world.  Especially a mage like you, Shattered," gently, the Knight-Commander reached out, resting his hand on Sha's face, cupping her cheek much how Cullen had moments before.

     "It is not often we see one so young with your potential," Irving clarified.  "They will be drawn to you like a moth to the flame.  The ritual will send you into the fade.  Armed with only your will, you will face a demon."  Irving's voice took on a hard edge, "You must defeat it.  You must prove your ability to resist."

     Shattered nodded her understanding.  Greagoir fidgeted slightly, looking uncomfortable.

     "You must resist," he said fervently.  "If you don't," he shook his head, reluctant to continue.  Finally, he reached out, gripping her shoulders firmly, almost painfully.  "If you don't, you will turn into an abomination, and we will be forced to slay you."  He gave her a light shake.  "Do you understand, girl?"  His voice dropped, "I don't want to see that.  Not you, I couldn't stand it.  Do you understand?"

     Numbly, Shattered nodded again, her voice gone.  She had known before that would be her fate if she failed, but to hear it said out loud forced it from the dark corners of her mind.  Briefly, her imagination flashed on the image of Cullen, kneeling over her limp body while he held her slight form with one hand on her back between her shoulder blades, the other on the grip of his sword, its tip resting on the ground and its blade against her neck.  A shiver went through her body, goose bumps covering her arms as she swallowed convulsively, running a hand over her throat where she imagined she could already feel his blade, her eyes searching among the templars in attendance to pick him out.

     Shaking herself, Shattered made an effort to focus on Greagoir's words.

     "This is lyrium," he told her, gesturing to a pedestal, smoky tendrils drifting down its sides.  "The very essence of magic, and your gateway into the fade."

     "Keep your wits about you, things are not what they seem.  Remember," Irving advised, "the fade is a realm of dreams.  The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real."

     "Every mage must go through this trial," Greagoir told her.  "As they have succeeded, so will you.  I have no doubt."

     "There is nothing more we can do to aid you," Irving told her, gently.  "Once you enter the fade you will be on your own."

     "She will succeed," Greagoir told Irving firmly.  "You are ready."  His gaze was steady as he looked at her, his voice confident.

     Shattered smiled.  She wished she was as sure of her success as he was.  Reaching out, she gave Irving's hand a soft squeeze, and offered Greagoir a bright smile before walking forward to the pedestal.

     Reaching out, Shattered spread her hand wide over the lyrium.  Her magic reacted, pulling at her as it strained toward the lyrium, surging through her.  The lyrium seemed just as eager to get to her magic, the tendrils she'd seen earlier reaching toward her hand, wrapping around her.

     Sha made a face.  Where the magic and lyrium touched, intertwining, she felt tingling.  Prickles along her skin and in her blood, it resonated in her bones.  She gasped as her magic and the lyrium had its way, ripping her consciousness from her body to the fade, leaving her physical form to collapse into Greagoir's waiting arms.

     "Knight-Commander, Ser," Cullen called nervously, stepping forward as Greagoir and Irving carefully lay Sha to the chamber floor as comfortably as they could.

     "Yes, Ser Cullen," Greagoir answered absently, his eyes locked to Shattered's closed lids as her eyes darted back and forth under them, looking at something in the fade he couldn't fathom.

     "What you said…before…to Sh…Miss Amell.  Did you mean it, Ser?"

     Greagoir's brow furrowed in confusion, wondering what the young templar could mean.  "About her succeeding," he asked tentatively, a slight smile gracing his face at Cullen's enthusiastic nod.  Standing, Greagoir put a reassuring hand to the younger man's shoulder.

     "I meant every word of it."