4, “You always this quiet?”
4 is Solona Amell from my Cullen/Solona story “It Might Have Been”
Solona could feel him staring at her.
They were supposed to be working on their assignments, a paper on restorative draughts for Enchanter Ines. It had only been a few weeks since Solona had joined the private lessons. Since she’d joined him. Anders. The only other potential spirit healer in the Tower. He’d been getting private lessons for a while now now. A natural healer, that’s what everyone said about him, and talented in every other school of magic as well, all of it with seemingly no effort at all.
Solona had that reputation as well, and it was true of most of the schools of magic, but most people didn’t realize how much effort the healing took, how much work and study she devoted to it, all those hours in the library, but she’d finally shown enough talent that Irving had said yes, she could share Anders’ lessons now.
Lessons Anders didn’t seem to pay any attention to at all. He wasn’t even pretending, hadn’t opened a book, hadn’t written anything on his parchment. He’d actually been sleeping for a time, with his feet up on the desk.
He’d woken up a few minutes ago, given an exaggerated stretch and a loud yawn and thumped his feet down on the floor.
She’d ignored him and continued her work. It wasn’t fair that healing came so easily to him, she thought. She wondered breifly if that was how the other apprentices felt about her. At least she took her work seriously. From what she had overheard and seen he didn’t take anything seriously, lessons least of all, and still he excelled at it all. It wasn’t fair.
Her nostrils flared in annoyance. She didn’t answer him.
He’d called her that their first night in Kinloch Hold, the night they’d both arrived, when he’d told her she was as mindless as a trained monkey, willingly doing whatever the templars told her to. She hadn’t thought he’d remember. It had been years since they’d interacted in any significant way. The difference in their ages had assured that.
A minute later a crumpled up piece of parchment hit her on the top of the head.
She looked up and glared at him.
“You always this quiet?” He asked.
She raised her eyes and frowned. “I’m working.” She told him. “You’re supposed to be working too.”
He just laughed. “Still the trained monkey. Ines doesn’t care about papers. She doesn’t even want to be teaching us. Wynne just bullied her into it, the old busybody.”
“Wynne doesn’t bully people.” Solona said, rushing to her teacher’s defense.
Anders grinned delightedly. “Well that got you all ruffled up. Of course she does. She bullies everyone: apprentices, enchanters, templars.”
“She only bullies when it’s important, when she wants you to do your best.”
“I thought you said she didn’t bully.”
Solona opened her mouth to reply, and realized the trap she’d fallen into.She closed it and returned to her studying, her cheeks hot.
“She even bullies old Greagoir. And he just takes it. You think she and he ever…”
When she looked up he gave her a knowing waggle of his eyebrows, and her mouth fell open when she realized what he meant. He was as awful as she remembered. Her cheeks went from hot to bright red, she could feel it. “You’re disgusting.” She muttered.
He laughed again and pushed back his chair, walking over to one of the bookshelves. He perused the titles and pulled one out. “What, you think it doesn’t happen? Mages and templars doing ‘the deed’? It happens all the time.”
He carried the book down to the desk and sat again, opening the book and pulling over a quill and inkpot.
Maybe he would finally do his work.
When she dared to look up again, he was frowning at her. “How old are you?” He demanded suddenly.
She knew why he was asking. “I’m twelve.” She told him and braced herself for his reaction.
“Twelve!” He looked positively appalled.
“I’m almost thirteen.” She muttered. It wasn’t her fault. She’d always been tall for her age, and her body had filled out sooner and more generously than any of the other apprentices her age.
“Twelve.” He repeated. “You look older. Much older. Never mind what I said about mages and templars. Stay away from them.” He was still staring at her in disbelief. “Twelve.” He shook his head.
“I’ve no intention of going near them.I’m not interested in that sort of… stuff.” She said primly.
He laughed again, at her she was sure, but it didn’t have the edge of mockery it had had before. He sounded almost relieved. “Good. Stay that way.”
She heard his quill scratching against parchment, and continued her writing as well.
“Hey, Monkey.” He said softly a few minutes later.
She looked up at him suspiciously.
“I’m sorry for teasing you like that. I didn’t realize how young you were.” He gave her a smile and for the first time she saw what all the other apprentices saw in him.
She returned the smile shyly. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. “It’s all right…” She started to say and her eyes widened in horror. “What are you doing?” The words came out in a screech.
In the border of the book he’d drawn a picture of a giant cat biting the head off a templar surrounded by the dismembered bodies of several other templars.
He grinned and held it up for her approval. “Like it? It’s Mr. Wiggums. Good, no?”