Áine is a mage from Kinloch Tower. She was there during the blight and had Cullen as one of her acquaintances.
She fell in love with him but was too shy to say something about it. Nevertheless, he was in love with her friend Amell and didn't know sh...
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These truths the Maker has revealed to me: As there is but one world, One life, one death, there is But one god, and He is our Maker. They are sinners, who have given their love To false gods.
Áine lifted her eyes from Andraste's bust in the small chantry they had in the circle. As always, there she was in the silence, in the dark corners of the chantry, praying for the Maker to make her days easier. Asking Andraste for strength and wisdom not to falter from the righteous path. She asked Them to guide her steps and thoughts.
It was a habit she had since she arrived in the circle ten years before. She was but a child following the templars around, listening to their prayers. Years later, she started her own routine. She preferred praying alone, and there was no better time than in the silence of the night, when everyone else slept or did their own thing, when she could listen to the tower's music, could concentrate on her own breathing.
Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. Foul and corrupt are they Who have taken His gift And turned it against His children.
One year... around one year before that day. There she was again, praying in the small chantry, while the other fifteen-year-old girls were running around learning the first signs of love, the secrets of stolen kisses in dark corners, and the touch of skin on skin.
She always thought those were useless things to be doing; there was so much to be learned, to be feared... deep down, she couldn't blame them. What else could they do? Where could they go?
They shall be named Maleficar, accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world Or beyond.
One year... around one year before that day. There she was again, praying in the chantry... She couldn't even imagine that she would have changed her mind so drastically about those fifteen-year-old girls. That she would so desperately wish for love, crave for stolen kisses in dark corners, ache for skin on skin.... His skin on hers.
All men are the Work of our Maker's Hands,
He was perfection; he was the most perfect creation of the Maker. A test, perhaps? Was this the way the Maker would test her will?
He entered the small place as if he owned it, took his gloves off, kneeled, and started praying. A prayer for him, his family, and surprisingly all the mages in the circle. He asked for them to have at least a comfortable life. He asked for wisdom and kindness to deal with them and the other templars. He wasso pure-hearted.
From the lowest slaves
One year... around one year before that day. There she was again ... not alone this time, not praying anymore. He had her full attention.
She was watching and delighting in every detail she could lay her eyes on. The way his curls hung from his head. The movements of his lips when he was praying. The way his hands rested on his thighs or moved to hold each other. His fast and strong breathing. Suddenly the door opened, Amell entered, and it was as if her world crumbled.
To the highest kings.
One year... around one year before that day, he first laid his eyes on her. Amell.
She entered the place like an angel. Her grace was overwhelming; her steps gracious as a cat's. Her body grown and full in all the right places. She looked at him and gave him her signature smile. He smiled back with a glow in his eyes, and that's when Áine knew.
She felt her heart break. There wasn't enough air. Her lungs ached, her mouth dried...he would never be hers.
When Amell called for Áine, the templar turned to face her, and with surprise in his features, he apologized for not noticing her before. He introduced himself, stuttering, making both mages smile. He tried to hide his blush before they left.
Those who bring harm...
One year... one year after that. There she was again, praying in the chantry. She lifted her eyes from the bust and changed her gaze to the person who had just opened the door.
