Authors: I found the beginning part of this story while rummaging through documents that's never seen the light of day and decided to add on to what I already had. Just to add a little backstory for how Circle life is. For the most part.

The ending is open to interpretation.

Inspired by the song 'Circle' by Flyleaf.

I own nothing. All hail Bioware.

Scratching of the ink feathers scribbling against flimsy paper echoed in the large room, pages being turned every so often. Twitchy hands tapped the table beside her while yawning came from her other side. Amell ignored the excessive noises, concentrating on the task at hand. Which was staring at a blank page in the tome.

She sighed, picking up her feather and sunk its tip in the jar of ink and started writing down any spell that came to mind. Fire. Ice. Healing. What was healing again…?

"Amell?" Anders eyed on the spell she was stuck on, slipping out of his imaginary world when he noticed her sighing frustratingly at her work. He whispered the words to her and she quickly jotted them down, nodding in thanks to him. Anders went back into his world, separate from everybody else.

After a few moments Enchanter Karl came by their table, tapping Anders on the shoulder. "Here. I think I know something that will help you concentrate." Anders quizzically raised an eyebrow at him but nodded. "I need an open mind. Are you giving me an open mind?"

Anders breathed through his nose, sighing. "Okay, it's open."

"Wide open?"

"Blue skies. Green grass. Kittens as far as the eye can see."

Karl took great measures not to smile, a faint twitching on his lips resisting the urge to. A few chuckles followed from students around them however. A Templar that was watching over the room came up next to Karl, the giggling ceasing. "I've got this, Enchanter." The Templar leaned over the table, hands down, watching Anders. "I want you to picture a quiet room. With nothing incredibly interesting to look at. And there's paper for you to take notes on."

"Slam."

"What's that?"

"The sound of my mind closing."

The Templar glared at Anders, growled under his breath and raised his hand to backhand the surly boy but Karl cut in. "I believe we have more studying to do. Thank you for your time, ser."

The room grew quiet after that incident.

Until Anders tried something else that is.

Anders made popping noises with his mouth, tapping his fingers to a beat no one but him could hear. Soon he started humming, louder and louder. Scat riffs followed. "That's it boy…" The Templar, clearly bored and needing attention, boomed from his corner. "Keep disrupting and I'll send you out."

A couple seconds of silence passed before Anders let out one last pop.

…

"I'm going to say something you may not like." Anders let his fingers drag across the stone wall as they walked.

"And?"

"I want you to come with me. Again." He stopped in front of her, amber eyes pleading. "It won't be the same without you. Besides, there might be cake to eat. Or snails. Either way you can't go wrong."

"Snails…" Amell knew going outside wasn't right. Look what happened to Anders because of it. But he looked at the rules with an indifferent sight. She always admired Anders for his silly bravery and ability to want to leave despite the severe consequences but at the same she was scared.

"You've been out there before. Don't you miss it?" He made a good case. She had frequent dreams about it even. It was a world she wasn't willing to forget. It was a world he showed her. Sighing, she curled her fingers and held them tight against her palm to stop the trembling; a twinge of a smile emerging from her blank face.

"Okay." Anders bear hugged her, lifting her up the ground.

"Thank you thank you. You'll like it. I promise." Anders guided her through secret passageways he's discovered, making her promise not to tell anyone, and eventually they were outside.

It was nothing like her dreams. And it was nothing like the first time. It was better.

The time flew by too fast. The two friends traveled the dirt roads nobody bothered to venture on, through fields of tall grass and lilies until the sun started setting. Amell begged to know where they were going but Anders kept his mouth sealed, not giving a hint.

"Look." Anders pointed at the sky. It was a haze of dark blues, golden yellows, bursting pinks, light oranges, and dark approaching clouds. "Twilight. Or that's what people call it."

"It's…" Amell had no words for it. She was sure people who lived out here were used to it, not taking wonder in the sight she's never seen before. It said something. Normal people were able to see, experience, love things mages never could. Those were the exact words Anders told her long ago.

The reality of those words made her realize.

It made her realize Anders was right.

…

Bright oranges, splashes of light pink, drab browns, exotic colors that she never knew existed were all over the place. Warm lighting from the candles provided a sense of comfort. The bright full moon exuded extra light, stars twinkling above them, a steady cascade of autumn leaves blowing past them; Amell wished for somebody to paint a picture of this beautiful night. It was almost breath-taking. She knew she'd never be able to see this is she were still stuck in that Tower. That fact alone was enough to make her see. See why all mages should be able to experience what she's experiencing right now.

It wasn't fair.

"Flowers for milady." Anders set on op her head an array of faint pink flowers as a crown, grinning widely down at her expression.

"Where…?" Amell lightly brushed her fingers across the crown made of flowers, senses tingling with every scent that passed by them.

"Some woman dropped them while on her search for more alcohol. As if she needed more." He chuckled. "Come on. Before someone takes notice of us." He gripped her small hand and dragged her along, pointing out buildings he's hid in, market stands that pitied him with food and water, laughing at people's choice in clothing. He was enjoying himself. And to his astonishment, so was Amell.

The way her eyes lit up at every single detail she saw…

Almost like the way her eyes lit up each time he was released from solitary…

"Don't we look a bit…suspicious?" Amell gestured to their muddy ripped Circle robes, the tiniest shred of fear visible in her wavering voice.

"We could strip down naked. But that would make us look even more suspicious I'm guessing." Amell's eyebrows shot up her forehead, jerking her head to face him. Anders could only laugh. "Or y'know. We could just go in like this."

"Why?" Amell inquired.

"Why not? We look simply dashing in our robes!" Anders struck a pose, a few bystanders looking at him.

"Anders. People are looking…" Amell warned, aware of the numerous glances they were attracting by their silliness. More like Anders' silliness.

"They don't know." Anders referred to how they were mages. How would they know they came from the Circle? Nobody's really seen mages in their robes before, unless a few Enchanters came into Denerim for business, it was highly unlikely anybody would peg them as mages.

"Are we really doing this?" Amell could hardly believe it. They were going to crash a wedding.

"Don't worry. I can scarcely believe it myself. But hey. I heard the nobles have good food at occasions like this." Anders wrapped his left arm around Amell's right, standing up straight in a manner that was unlike him but in a way that reflected that of a noble. "Ready Arlessa Amell?"

"Ready…Arl Anders." Titles that would never be theirs to have, the two played make-believe. It couldn't hurt to pretend they were something better than what they were.

They rushed into the middle in the chaotic crowd, making their way past the gates, pass the oblivious guards, and past the marrying couple. That surge of energy, the level of activity in this place alone, it was nearly too much to handle. Unidentified meats that were gray in color, sizzling vegetables that dotted dishes, warm baked bread wafting all around them, smells that Amell was a stranger to while Anders had smelled them all before in previous excursions.

"This is Denerim?" Amell wondered the possibility if she were born here, invited to parties and weddings like this, petting a dog of her own, wearing extravagant dresses. It was never meant to be.

"This only usually happens when a wedding or silly party is on. Usually it's more quiet and less bright but in general, yes." Anders swiped a loaf of bead, inhaling its delicious fragrance before tearing a piece off for Amell. She chewed slowly, savoring its exotic taste that made her taste buds pop. This was nothing like the Circle's bread. Their bread was stale, hard, and tasteless. If only she could save some for Jowan…

"Why are they…?" Amell trailed off, gaze concentrated on a couple that kept passing their thanks to guests, the woman's dress festooned with ruffles and the man wearing silver shining armor.

"The marrying couple. Come on." Strange voices were colliding in a rhythm, all singing a tune she did not know. "Ferelden folk songs. Lots of lutes. Lots of alcohol. And dancing." Anders held out his hand and Amell confusingly looked at it before grasping his hand.

They twirled around each other, mimicking the other dancers. Amell watched as women in pale orange dresses, presuming them to be the Chantry sisters, took part in the ridiculous practice. Men in dark reds and whites sung the Ferelden song that told the tale when they won their freedom from the Orlesians, the disgusting stench of ale spilling from their breath. Inane giggling, pretty notes floating from lutes, booming drums; these sounds filled Amell's ears with wonder.

"Dizzy…" She mumbled but the noises around them drowned her words. Anders kept twirling her around then pulled her closer. The two friends carefully watched their feet, making sure not to step on other people's toes. The lute slowed to a gentler tune, the mass of people switching their movements to the rhythm. It was like the music controlled their actions.

Kind of like how the Templars controlled the mages.

She dared not think of the Circle, focusing solely on the man in front of her. The music switched songs abruptly, a faster happier pace. A loud cheer prompted the marrying couple to enter the swarm which opened up a large circle in the middle for them to dance in. Smiles were shared as they started dancing and invited a few extra couples to join them. "Let's do it."

"Do wha-" Amell was jerked into the fray, feeling exposed as various sorts of people watched them. Three other couples joined, all dancing in silly ways. "I don't know how…"

"I'll teach you." Anders reassured her, taking a step away from Amell. He soon jumped back in, taking her by the hands, spinning and twirling in extravagant manners. Anders and Amell swayed to the beat, candle lights and strangers passing them by. Her vision was upside down and shaky but she enjoyed it. Strangers that she never meet clapped for their performance, flowers were thrown at them, awed cheers growing louder when Anders spun her away from him then back.

She felt free.

But it was all torn apart in a matter of seconds.

The Templars were upon them, breaking through the drunken crowds.

"Don't let me go." Amell whispered, forcing the fear to go away and to take lead from Anders.

"I won't." Anders promised, his hands still intertwined with her's as the Templars drew closer.

Amell could see the Templars reaching for Anders first and noticed how they already had their swords drawn, not trusting them. But one was visibly twitchy, acting in a drunken manner or as if he were doped up on…"Lyrium."

The Templar she was referring to jerked his head toward her, stumbling in Anders' general direction. The other Templars paid no mind, concentrating on isolating them from the wedding party. Best keep the people oblivious as to what the Templars do to runaway mages.

The lyrium addled Templar seemed to be in no control of his actions, swaying this way and that. His sword was out and if this man were to swing it in a careless manner, it would hit the Templars or worse…"Anders!"

This caused the Templar to react, thinking Amell was going to attack and swung his sword. The other Templars ducked the blow but Anders didn't. He went straight for Amell, keen on protecting his friend. The sword dug deep in his skin, impaling his arm straight through. Horror crossed Amell's fear stricken face, hands outstretched to cover his wound. One Templar restrained the lyrium addict and the others quickly used the dispel magic talent to disrupt any spell Amell might use against them. But she didn't want to retaliate, she wanted to heal. She couldn't. She felt drained. She felt helpless.

Anders screeched in pain, drawing the attention of nearly everybody in hearing range. The sober party members still nearby, the Templars, Amell; they all turned their attention to the suffering boy.

"What happened?"

"Did you see that one Templar?"

"So much blood…"

"Maker's breath."

"Someone get him a healing potion!"

"Get a healer. Now!"

"Probably a trouble making mage anyway…"

Amell shut out the excessive noise and went straight to Anders. She ripped off her robe sleeves, using them to cover the gaping wound. Blood spilled through the cracks, the torn rags already sopping wet and red. "I knew drunk people shouldn't drink more than they should…"

She sighed in relief at the responsive Anders, shaking her head gently. "I don't think he was drunk Anders…

"Oh. Well. I must've insulted his skirt earlier. Damn Templars always like to hold a grudge." Anders chuckled, trying hard to ignore the stinging pain in his arm. "Did you have fun today?"

Amell smiled, rethinking back to experiences she'll never forget. "Yeah. I did." She gave him a reassuring squeeze of his hand and got pushed aside when the Templars came back to tend to him. Healing potions and bandages flew in the air, the Templars trying hard not to further his pain. Amell wondered at this. Was it because Irving was still trying to help them, even outside the Tower, and had asked the Templars to be gentle on them? Or was it Greagoir? Did he care?

No. If they had cared, they wouldn't have let these Templars take along a lyrium addict. But maybe…

"Come on." A Templar gruffly said, tugging on her arm to follow. Amell twisted around to see where Anders was. "He's fine. Let's go."

Amell knew Anders had to be alive. He always was a fighter. It was a wonder how he endured those weeks alone by himself in the dungeon, let alone being punished for simply wanting to be free. She also knew the same fate would be extended to her when they got back to the Tower. That's just how life was.

Stares and gazes were thrown in their direction from people all around them, all wondering what in the world had happened. They'd never know the whole story. They'd never understand Anders' actions.

An armored hand rested on her shoulder, ushering her away from the crowd of bystanders. "Time to go."

"Is Anders…okay?"

The Templar never responded.