A/N: This story is just an idea I had. I always flesh out the stories of games I'm playing in my head as I play them, and a lot of the sub-text here is the result. I don't expect much, as I doubt anyone will ever read this and it won't ever see the light of day. And that's okay. I'm just having an awful time fleshing out an original story I'm working on, and I thought I'd do this in the mean time to "keep up my nonexistent skills" as it were.

If by chance you do review, please be gentle. I have not before allowed anyone other than my husband to view my writing. Anyway, enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age, not at all, not even a little bit. Bringing a lawsuit against me would profit you nothing, except to deprive my two small boys of the food I can rarely afford right now, anyway. Also, if I did own Dragon Age, Alistair would have had a MUCH bigger part in Awakening. Just sos you knows

Chapter I

And so is the Golden City blackened

With each step you take in my Hall.

Marvel at perfection, for it is fleeting.

You have brought sin to Heaven

And doom upon all the world.

- Canticle of Threnodies 8:13

"The Chant of Light tells us that it is the hubris of men that brought the darkspawn into our world." The Revered Mother paused and gazed out at her flock, brow heavy, tone serious. The setting sun filtering in from the small, high window behind her provided an ominous glare to the petite, delicately-boned woman. She leaned forward to glare reproachfully at a couple of trouble-makers who were whispering near the back door, her graying hair falling into her eyes in the process. Brushing it behind her ears, she continued. "The mages of the Tevinter Imperium sought to usurp heaven . . . and instead destroyed it. They were cast out by the Maker, twisted and cursed by their own corruption. They returned to earth as monsters and became a blight upon the lands, unstoppable and relentless."

Here the Revered Mother paused again, pacing to and fro on the small dais at the head of the chapel. She locked eyes with every individual in the small room one-by-one before moving on. "Magic exists to serve man," she intoned severely, "and never to rule over him." She raised her voice almost to a shout. "Foul and corrupt are they who have taken His gift and turned it against his children! They shall be named Maleficar-" she spat this word with such vehemence that several people flinched, "accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world, or beyond."

The Mother quieted for the last time, her sermon nearing its end, and glared out at the young apprentices surrounding her. "Magic is the Maker's curse for the Pride of Men. As mages, every one of you, every one harbors a maleficar inside yourselves. Only through careful observation, and the study of our blessed prophet Andraste's Chant of Light, can any of you hope to deal with the darkness inherent in your natures. That will be all for this week. Maker watch over you."

"Well, that was a complete and utter waste of time," Jowan said with an eye roll as he shoved the doors of the Circle chapel open and strode into the hallway. His pace was quick, a fast walk that was nearing a run. His companion, a short, petite brunette with her hair in ponytails quick on his heels.

"Is it such a waste of time that you must practically fall over yourself escaping after every lecture?" She was smaller than Jowan, and had to resort to running to keep up with his movement. "Doesn't that seem a little extreme?"

"The Revered Mother hates me. If I give her time to reach the back and actually get her hands on me, who knows what might happen?"

"Yes, she might glare you to death. Very intimidating," his companion replied with a grin. They slowed to a walk as they reached the stairs and began their descent. "And it's not so much that she hates you, Jowan. It's more that we're mages, so she . . . hates us all equally? Also, she might hate you, personally, slightly less if you made fewer snide comments to me during her lessons."

"But have you heard the way she talks about us?" Jowan asked incredulously.

"No, must have missed it, somehow," the young woman muttered under her breath, but Jowan appeared not to notice.

"'Every one of you has a maleficar inside, you are an affront to the Maker'," Jowan intoned mockingly. "She can't possibly believe all the things she says about us!"

"I think most do, as a matter of fact. It's probably the main reason we're all rounded up and locked in this tower."

"I mean, the woman doesn't even hear herself! She contradicts herself every two sentences or so!" Jowan continued, once again failing to notice he had been spoken to. " First it's 'foul and corrupt are they who have taken his girt', gift being the operative word here, 'and turned it against his children', and ten seconds later she's telling us that magic is a curse for our pride! How does that even make sense? Which is it, then? A gift, or a curse?"

The two companions paused halfway down the stairwell and waited for the throng of people to disperse and leave them in privacy, most of those passing by younger than they and heading for their shared rooms in the apprentice dormitories. The young woman scowled and tucked a stray strand of brown-gold hair behind one ear as she observed them. Nearly all were younger than she and Jowan, some were almost half their age, and one or two were even so small that they had to be accompanied by an older apprentice. She had been at the Circle Tower for seventeen of her twenty years and was now, besides Jowan, the eldest mage who had yet to go through their Harrowing. She coughed to cover up the anxious look that clouded her face so as not to worry her companion, but was unsuccessful.

As soon as the coast was clear, he leaned in just slightly and lowered his voice. "Are you all right, Elias?"

Elias grinned and shook her head, a lopsided smirk that lightened her features. "Just wallowing in misery. Anyway, what were we talking about?"

Jowan stared at her for a few seconds longer than was polite, but decided not to press the matter."I believe you were explaining to me why you drag me into the chapel every week just to be told how evil we all are."

"First of all, I do not drag you anywhere. I say I'm going and you announce you have nothing better to do, and then follow me-"

"-well, that just shows you're absolutely missing the point-"

"-and secondly, you know very well why I go. Every once in a while, Mother Charlienne lets slip what's actually happening in the outside world! Come on, Jowan; you know that trying to get any information out of the templars is like trying to coax water from a stone. The Revered Mother is the only one dim enough to let slip to us lowly apprentices any news. Oh! And that reminds me." Elias pushed herself off of the wall on which she had been leaning the moment before and sat down on the top step, motioning for Jowan to sit next to her. He sat but crossed his arms, an uncharacteristically serious look on his face. Elias leaned in closer, lowered her voice and continued. "Did you hear what she mentioned today? 'They returned to earth and became a blight upon the lands!' Last week she lectured upon the evils of the Tevinter Imperium and let slip that there was a war brewing to the south. Do you know what that means? Do you think she's talking about another Blight?"

"I don't see how she could be," Jowan replied with a sigh. "She rarely leaves the tower anymore, and none of us are allowed to, where would she get such information?"

"Oh that woman is the nosiest busy-body in all of Ferelden," Elias answered back with a sly smile. "Have you seen how she follows after Knight-Commander Greigor and First Enchanter Irving when they speak? I don't doubt that she's gleaned plenty of news from their conversations."

"Why are you so interested about what's happening outside the Tower? It's not like we'll ever get to see any of it," Jowan asked, lounging against the steps lazily.

"We might," Elias said with a half-smile, not meeting his eyes. "And besides, if there really is a Blight, don't you think the King will ask for assistance from the Circle?"

"Not if he's a half-wit that believes everything the Chantry says about us."

"I don't think he is," Elias said thoughtfully, gazing off into space. "From what little I've managed to gather from the templar's conversations he seems like a decent sort. He's certainly popular enough. I think that if there really were a Blight threatening Ferelden that he would call for the Circle of Magi's aid."

"Well, you can think that all you like, but it's a moot point anyway. We're still just apprentices, Elias; even if First Enchanter Irving did send out mages to combat a Blight, we wouldn't be among them; the templars wouldn't let him send more than a few, and certainly not anyone who hasn't been through their Harrowing." Jowan's face grew very dark and he hugged his knees. "Maker help us."

There were several minutes of silence between them, broken only by the sound of the familiar bangs of the apprentices practicing in the classrooms below them.

Jowan eventually broke the silence. "When do you think they'll finally test us?"

The somber expression did not leave Elias' face, but her voice sounded unafraid. "Soon, I'd expect. We're the oldest apprentices left in the Tower. They're going to have to test us before too much longer."

"Unless they plan to make us Tranquil," Jowan replied, voice barely above a whisper.

"Don't be ridiculous, they're not going to make us Tranquil," Elias replied with a shake of her head. But she sounded much more confident than she felt.

"You don't know that. We've been here forever. Maybe they're not going to test us."

"They will, Jowan. When we're ready, they'll test us. Besides," she said with an attempt at a smile, patting his shoulder with her hand, "are you really that anxious to undertake your Harrowing? Some mages go to theirs and never come back. We have no idea what happens. For all we know-"

"You there! Mage!"

Elias and Jowan both jumped, startled by the loud voice of the templar now standing before them. He was tall and broad-shouldered, the features of his face and expression hidden by the heavy helm that most templars wore while on duty. His bulky silver armor gleamed in the torchlight as he stared down at them. Elias got quickly to her feet, Jowan right behind her, his expression apprehensive. Elias was feeling slightly less than comfortable herself; mages were forbidden from "coupling" lest they produce another mage child. Therefore to be caught hiding in a stairwell with another of the opposite sex by a Chantry soldier was an unappealing idea. Elias kicked herself for not noticing it sooner.

Jowan stared at the floor, so Elias swallowed hard and turned to the templar. "A suggestion," she began, trying to keep the scorn from her voice, "you might try calling us by our names, as simply shouting 'mage' at the top of your lungs is confusing, since we're both mages."

Despite the helm, Elias was almost sure the fellow was scowling. "Hold your tongue, apprentice, until you're spoken to. What are you two doing skulking about the stairwell?"

"Just talking," she said truthfully, although she doubted he would believe her.

"Well then, be on your way and do it somewhere else."

"Of course. Our apologies. We only sought a little privacy," Elias replied smoothly, flashing the man a quick smile. "Maker's blessing upon you." She grabbed Jowan's arm and began to pull him down the stairs with her, making sure to keep her pace slow enough not to draw any more attention to them.

"And upon you," the templar replied, obvious surprise in his voice.

As soon as the door to the stairs was shut, Elias and Jowan made for the apprentices' quarters with all due haste, stopping to talk to no one, walking so quickly that Elias found herself nearly sprinting again. Upon reaching his quarters Jowan flung open the door and nearly threw himself inside, Elias shutting the door quickly behind them before bursting into a fit of giggling.

"Well, that was . . . funny."

Jowan, who had flung himself onto his bed, replied, voice muffled with a face full of pillow, "Funny is not the word I'd use to describe that encounter."

"Oh, come on!" Elias replied, sitting down next to him, "what's the worst that could have happened? We weren't technically doing anything wrong."

Jowan unburied his face and glared, irritated, at his friend. "I'm sure people have been brought before the Knight-Commander for less."

"Maybe so, but not us. And not tonight, at any rate."

"You're impossible," he said with a sigh, lying back with his hands behind his head and staring upward. "You know that they hunt us, right? I don't understand how you can even bear to speak to them."

Elias shrugged and smiled to herself, a sad smile that didn't reach her eyes. "They're not all so terrible."

Jowan gave her an exasperated look. "Yes, well, the ones who aren't so terrible, Miss I had a templar lover-" he mouthed the last two words so quietly that Elias couldn't hear him, "-will still get you executed if you're caught with them."

"Oh come on, I doubt we would have been executed. That seems a little extreme. . ."

"Look Elias, I'm . . . sorry, really, for what happened between you, but . . . you have to admit it's better this way. Someone would almost certainly have found out eventually. I know you like to believe the best of people, but had you been caught, I'm almost certain you would have been executed. It's a high price to pay for a man you admit you didn't love."

Elias sighed and stared heavily at the floor. "But I could have, Jowan."

"But you didn't."

"Enough," Elias said, her tone harsh despite the smile on her face. "Let's just . . . move on." She smiled genuinely as she lounged lazily against Jowan's coverlets, amused at the nervous and confused looks she was receiving from Jowan's dorm mates. She didn't understand what they were looking at, really. She'd visited Jowan almost every night since they were five; you'd think they'd have gotten used to seeing her by now.

"What about this girl you tell me you've been meeting with?" Elias asked, changing the subject before her friend could argue further. "You've been gone nearly every night this month. When do I finally get to meet her?"

At this Jowan began to look decidedly uncomfortable. Glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers, he replied quietly, "Um . . . not, not for awhile yet. She's shy."

Elias cocked an eyebrow. "How shy could she be?"

Jowan stood up and retreated to his footlocker, taking rather longer than was strictly necessary to undo the locks on it. "She's just, well, she-um, you . . . look, you haven't told anyone about us, have you?"

"Of course not. Besides, who do I speak to other than you?"

"Good point." Jowan smiled, looking visibly relieved.

Elias didn't feel like pressing the issue further, but made a mental note to weed it out of him at a later date. She was about to open her mouth to change the subject when the door to their dormitory creaked open and a templar came in, all but indistinguishable from the one that had caught them in the stairwell. Jowan looked at her in alarm, and she shook her head ever so slightly from side to side. There was no need to panic. Certainly no need. They had done nothing wrong, after all.

The templar walked up to them and stopped just short of where they were standing, observing them stoically through his thick armor. Elias stepped forward quickly. "Is there something you wish of us?"

"You are the apprentice Elias Amell?" the templar asked, sounding official and slightly nervous. Elias could tell by his voice that this was a different templar from the one who had spoken to them earlier.

She nodded. "I am she."

"You have been summoned to the First Enchanter's study. Please come with me."

She turned to Jowan, unable to keep the fear out of her eyes. Jowan looked like he was going to be sick.

"Of course," Elias replied, keeping her tone even. "Lead on."

The templar turned his back and marched quickly out into the hallway. On her way out, she shot Jowan a reassuring look before closing the door behind her and following her guide.

In Ferelden, even the summers could be chilly. Night had fallen, and the only light guiding their path were the flickering flames of the torches, casting deep shadows onto all the doors and walls they passed. The ominous feel of the Tower at night did nothing to calm Elias' fears. She followed mutely behind her guide, eyes cast downward, praying that no one had just overheard her tell her best friend that she had had an affair with a templar.

The knight in front of her slowed his pace and then stopped altogether, waiting for her to catch up. She strode forward and walked at his side, smiling slightly to ease the tension. She wondered if her smile looked strained.

"Do not fear," came the knight's voice from under his helm, "The First Enchanter did not seem upset when he sent me to fetch you. I am sure it is a routine matter." His tone was polite, but friendly, and Elias flashed him a genuine smile that she had no idea whether or not he returned.

They continued in silence for the rest of their short journey. First Enchanter Irving's study was located on the second floor of the Circle Tower, directly next door to the chapel she had left barely an hour before. Upon arrival Elias noted that the door was open, and warm light was streaming out and bathing the cold stone floor with a soft, reassuring glow. More alarming, however, was that the First Enchanter was not alone in his study, but was standing, waiting for her, alongside Knight-Commander Greagoir, the stern, sometimes harsh man that commanded the templars.

Elias stepped into the room, trying not to look as nervous as she felt.

"Ahh, here she is." First Enchanter Irving greeted her warmly, smiling in such a way that made Elias know immediately that she was in no trouble. "Thank you, Cullen, you may leave us." The templar Cullen bowed and departed, metal armor clanking loudly on the stone floor all the way down the hall. If the Knight Commander objected to one of his men being ordered out by the First Enchanter, he made no sign of it.

Irving stood before her, smiling his friendly, tired smile. A man of at least sixty, Irving was easily distinguished from his peers in that he looked like he hadn't slept a wink since before Elias had been born. The large, dark circles under his eyes seemed to flow nearly all the way down his face, stopping just short of his think grey beard. He wore the robes of a Senior Enchanter, his handsome staff strapped to his back and glinting slightly in the candlelight. Many years of stress and care had sharply lined his face, and Elias often wondered if he had declined to become First Enchanter if his health might have fared better.

Beside him was the Knight-Commander, Greagoir, as sharp a contrast to the First Enchanter as one would care to find. Greigor was roughly the same age, but time had been much kinder to the templar than to his counterpart. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with silver hair and intense blue eyes that more often than not were narrowed in suspicion or annoyance. His hair was short and clean, his face sporting a well-trimmed beard. Elias admitted grudgingly that for a man his age he was fairly good-looking.

"Ah, please sit down, child," Irving said with a smile, motioning to a chair directly in front of his desk. Elias sat, feeling distinctly exposed. Knight-Commander Greagoir stared at her severely, unblinkingly and with obvious dislike. Elias stared back and refused to look away.

"Do you know why you have been summoned here?" Irving asked in his slow, gentle voice, searching her face for answer.

The young brunette shook her head. "No, First Enchanter, I do not."

"I'm sure you've been wondering at what point would come your Harrowing; well, the time has finally arrived."

Elias felt all the air whoosh out of her lungs at once. The Harrowing, now? She thought, desperately trying to conceal her panic. Hadn't she and Jowan just been talking about this very thing? Well, at least she knew now that they weren't planning on making her Tranquil. But no one knew what happened at a Harrowing; the mages who passed were forbidden from discussing it. Half the apprentices she had seen go had not come back. What in Andraste's name were they expecting her to do?

When she found her voice, it was stronger than she could have hoped. "I am ready, First Enchanter."

"All mages must go through this final test, and so shall you," Greagoir began in his crisp, brusque voice. "No apprentice knows the exact moment of their Harrowing, but some warning is allowed. Within one week's time, you too shall be so tested. Succeed, and you will be welcomed into the Circle of Magi as a full mage, an apprentice no longer."

"And if I fail?" Elias asked the Knight-Commander defiantly.

"I suggest that you use the following week for study and meditation," the First Enchanter said, pointedly ignoring the question.

"And prayer." Knight-Commander Greagoir added. The hard look had come back into his eyes when he gazed at Elias, but she ignored it. The glares of a bigoted templar were nothing to the news that she was going to shortly be undertaking an unknown test that might possibly kill her. She forced herself to feel brave and boldly returned Greagoir's glare.

A thick silence hung in the air, and Elias knew that the First Enchanter was expecting her to break it, but she would not. Should she thank them, then, for throwing her to the wolves? Should she reassure a grown man that she, barely more than a child, would be grateful for potentially being executed? What sort of choice was the Harrowing or Tranquility?

It was no wonder so many mages became maleficar. Survival could be a powerful motivator.

"You may return to your quarters, if you wish," Irving said at last, sounding tired and old. "I'm sure you have much to think on this evening."

Elias bowed politely and swallowed her pride. "Thank you First Enchanter."

She turned around and left the soft glow of the candles for the cool, welcome darkness of the second-floor corridor. All she could think about was getting back to the safety of her bed, the comforting darkness of her dormitory as she drifted off to a hopefully dreamless sleep. She couldn't bear to tell Jowan. Not tonight. To tell him would make it real, make it inevitable, and she couldn't bear it. It could wait for tomorrow.

So lost was she in her own dark thoughts that Elias didn't realize that she was being followed until she had almost reached the stairs. Greagoir was trailing behind her, still gifting her with that piercing stare he had hung on her during her short visit to Irving's study. She slowed her pace to allow him to catch up, but desperately wished that he would go away. Wasn't there another mage about for him to torment?

"Apprentice, a word." It was not a request. Elias gritted her teeth and stopped walking, turning to the Knight-Commander wordlessly and waiting for him to speak.

"I do suggest that you take this time for prayer. I notice that you regularly attend services in the Chantry. That is commendable; too few of our apprentices make time for the Chant nowadays. But I, and the Revered Mother, for that matter, do not believe that you attend out of faith in the Maker. Why, then, do you go?"

Elias tactfully said nothing.

"I suggest," Greigor continued, his eyes narrowing, "that you take the time to revisit the Chantry, and actually listen to the message that is being spoken. It will serve you well for what is to come." The Knight-Commander paused and snorted in disgust. "Assuming any message can penetrate that rebellious skull of yours."

"Is that all, Knight-Commander?" Elias asked dully.

"That is all."

Elias had only gotten two steps farther when she heard Greigor's voice behind her again. "Apprentice. One thing more."

She stopped again and turned back.

"You asked in the First Enchanter's study what would happen if you failed. Well, I'm certain that a clever young mage such as you knows the answer to that without being told." And with that he was gone, leaving Elias staring after him, seething.