I only have a few memories left of the Alienage. Mostly I remember being cold and hungry most of the time. The people who ran the orphanage tried their best, but there were always more children then they quite had room for. The older children were taught skills or apprenticed out, but us younger ones mostly ran wild in the yard as there were too few adults to pay us much mind once the babies were looked after. As is often the case with large numbers of mostly unsupervised children, there was a fair bit of bullying that went on. I never really figured out the social pecking order, except that I was apparently at the bottom. I did my best to stay out of the way of my tormenters, but there was only so much I could do. Another lingering memory of my time there is the fear of an impending beating. It was this fear that shaped most of my young life.

I was about seven when my magic abilities first surfaced. I had been cornered by several bigger boys when I let out a mental blast, not unlike the mind blast spell. I remember wanting them to go away, then a feeling in my head of pushing something out in all directions. It knocked all the bullies down, and a couple of them were stunned. One of the bystanders ran to get an adult and the chantry was summoned. I was locked in a closet while they waited for the templars to arrive. I really didn't understand what was going on, just that I had done something bad and was in trouble. When the templars tried to drag me away, I panicked again, letting out another mental blast. It was too weak to take out the templars, but they reacted by quickly draining me of all my manna, leaving me feeling dizzy and weak. I'm probably lucky that my instinctive response was not more lethal, otherwise they may have killed me then, child or no.

The templars told me they were taking me somewhere 'safe', that I would be alright as long as I behaved. But they had little patience with a terrified child and quickly resorted to threats and slaps in order to keep me quiet and docile. I quickly learned to do what I was told, and only what I was told. As long as I behaved myself, they left me alone, which was better than I could expect from the bullies who would come after me for no other reason than boredom. The trip to the tower is mostly a blur now. I remember being amazed at how green the country side was. I also remember the blisters I developed from walking so much in ill fitting shoes. When I began to stumble and whimper from the pain, one of the templars took pity on me, tending my wounds and giving me some elfroot to chew on. That and the fact that they fed me regularly endeared them to me despite the rough treatment. The ferry ride over to the tower itself was a particular highlight, as I had never been on board a boat before. And the tower was like nothing I had seen before. I thought it a palace.

My first few years at the tower went well. I guess you could say I was happy. I took quickly to the study of magic and had never lived so comfortably before. I was an obedient child and rarely got into trouble. To be honest, I was a bit of a teacher's pet. I still had difficulty getting on with my peers. I had a few friends, but my instinctive caution and excessive talent made me unpopular for the most part. The upside was that there were fewer bullies and the watching templars kept any harassment mild, at least physically. Some of the older apprentices even went out of their way to protect me when they were around, finding my cuteness compensation for my lack of social skills, though it wasn't until adolescence that my looks really began to have an impact.

I'm not particularly vain, but neither am I unaware that I'm considered attractive by most standards. Most humans find elves pretty anyways, but even other elves tend to like me. I guess I can see it. I'm petite with delicate features, and the contrast between my pale skin and black hair is quite striking. But I'm more pretty or cute than sexy in my mind. I'm certainly not some ideal of masculinity. I guess it shouldn't come as a surprise that I'm as popular with the men as I am with the woman, if not more so. I've never had much of a preference myself, though most of my experience has been with men as they tend to be more aggressive and I'm not the type to instigate a relationship under most circumstances. It was interesting seeing people who had more or less ignored me for years begin to vie for my attentions, and quite flattering. Between my new popularity and my success in my studies, I became a great deal more confident. I was still a quiet sort, but it was more due to habit than fear. I made more friends, and a few enemies. I broke hearts, and had mine broken in turn. I took risks. For a boy who had spent a large portion of his childhood reading stories and wishing he was anyone other than who he was, real life suddenly had new meaning and attraction. I was living my life instead of just surviving it.

These golden days didn't last long. My looks attracted bad attention as well as good. While the templars had all taken vows of chastity, not all were content to live by them, especially after watching a bunch of young, attractive apprentices flirt away the day. Some of my peers even took to teasing them, taking advantage of the situation to get back at our guards in small petty ways. Obviously some of them dealt better with such temptation than others. There were always rumors going around of some templar or another who was having an affair with a mage. It was against the rules of course, but we mages tended to protect the offending couple, not eager to help the chantry enforce its many rules. This was as long as it was all consensual. Religious zealots like the templars tend to be aren't the most stable of men. It was not uncommon for one to be a little off. Many saw us mages as inherently evil and blamed their desires on some trick of ours. It wasn't common, but rape did occur at times, and it was ridiculously easy for them to get away with it. Templars have the authority to kill a mage if we become dangerous, with the concept of dangerous being uncomfortably loosely defined. Many of us were terrified of them. They were like angry and fickle gods, likely to strike us down at the least infraction. In situations where it came down to our word against theirs, templars always had the upper hand. They only had to claim that they saw you acting suspicious or practicing blood magic and you became guilty until proven innocent. A lot of mages are too frightened of the possible reprisals to report a crime committed by a Templar. I certainly was.

The templar who attacked me was named Brand. He found some excuse to get me alone, drained my manna, and overpowered me. I tried to fight back, but a couple of blows soon made it clear that I wasn't going to win, and so I was left hoping for survival. When he was done, he ordered me to clean up the 'evidence' and threatened me if I dared tell anyone about what had happened. I tried to put the experience behind me. I was strong now. So I had been hurt and used, I wouldn't let it define me. But it kept happening. For a better part of a year he tormented me. I did everything I could to protect myself from him. I avoided being alone, kept myself busy with official duties as much as possible, memorized his schedule so that I could better avoid him… none of it worked. No matter what I did, he would find opportunities to get at me. Eventually the pain, humiliation, and hopelessness of the situation got to me, and I sank into a depression. I withdrew from lovers and friends. I became distant and unfocused during lessons. I went back to the habits I had gained while living in fear of my childhood bullies.

I even tried halfheartedly to kill myself. I say halfheartedly because all I had to do was walk up and attack the Knight-Commander with magic and I would have been run though by half a dozen templars before I finished casting. Instead I slit my wrists and was promptly found and healed. At least it managed to alert my teachers that something was actually wrong. It was obvious that I was troubled. I had begun to slip in my studies and had become even quieter than usual and quite jumpy. Most of them assumed it was normal teenage angst until my attempted suicide. I was put under constant supervision, while healers and priests tried to get me to tell them what was wrong. Even then I was too scared to say anything. Or maybe I believed that even if I said something, nothing would change. At least all the attention I was suddenly getting made it a lot harder for Brand to get me alone. I was beginning to feel somewhat safe again when he managed to get himself assigned as one of my watchers.

I don't know if I had become stronger in those weeks of relative safety, or whether Brand had become careless in his desire to have me after being denied so long, but he somehow failed to completely drain me of manna that last time. When I realized that I still had some manna left, I threw the biggest mind blast I could at him. I seem to have an affinity for the spell and can cast it even when I'm normally too distracted to put together another spell. It's also tends to be stronger for me then it should be considering how little manna it requires. Not that I was thinking all this at the time. I was simply reacting and it was the first thing to come to mind. In some ways, not much had actually changed over the years, at least where my instinctual responses are concerned. I was still that frighten, desperate child, corner by a bully, striking out in the only way I could. Brand hadn't been expecting such an attack, thinking I was drained. My spell knocked him off of me and stunned him, but most importantly it summoned every templar close enough to sense it.

They found me curled up on the floor in a ball, sobbing, and Brand dizzily trying to regain his feet. One of the templars instinctively hit me with a Holy Smite before taking in the whole scene, but one of the others noticed Brand's half dressed state and was able to put two and two together. He demanded that the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter be summoned before anything else occurred. It was the second time I had attacked a templar with my magic and again I was lucky not to be killed outright. It was in my favor that I had used only non-lethal magic and had been clearly attacked. Still, I was kept in solitary confinement and questioned and watched closely while the matter was investigated. Brand eventually disappeared from the tower, we weren't told what happened to him, and I was released.

It was hard putting my life back together; I didn't feel safe, half expecting to be attacked at any moment. I had terrible nightmares, but I think the worst part was how everyone treated me like some delicate doll that might break at any moment. Their pity made me feel pathetic and helpless. My confidence never quite returned completely and I never again felt safe in the tower, but over time I began to heal. I promised myself that I would never let myself get hurt like that again, even if the alternative was death. I became obsessed with the idea of getting out of the tower one day. I was still too cautious to attempt an escape, but I thought that if I trained hard and proved myself trust worthy, they might let me leave to serve in the army, or as some nobleman's personal healer. I returned to my studies with new drive, proving myself one of the most talented apprentices in the tower. I did so well that I was assigned First Enchanter Irving himself as my new mentor. My love life, on the other hand, never recovered. I simply stopped having much interest in sex. I knew intellectually that it could feel good, but I couldn't make myself trust another person enough to let them that close again. My fear of the templars in general also became more pronounced. I learned to mask it, but I was acutely aware of any of them around me at all times. I taught myself to act as if nothing was wrong, to save myself from the embarrassing pity and concern, but also because I knew that they would never let me leave as long as they thought that I was emotionally vulnerable. By the time I reached my Harrowing, I believe most thought I was completely recovered from my ordeal, or had forgotten about it entirely, so good I had become at hiding my feelings.

My Harrowing went smoothly. I was confident in my magical abilities, if not in anything else, and was not the type to give trust easily. I wanted to beg Irving to send me to Ostagar to serve in the army immediately but was distracted first by the presence of the Gray Warden, Duncan, then by Jowan's problems. Jowan had been one of the few friends I had managed to make and keep over the years. To learn that he was going to be made tranquil, surprised and unnerved me. I wanted to help him but was afraid. I didn't believe that he could possibly be a blood mage, but if he escaped it would be as good as admitting his guilt as far as the chantry was concerned. I thought he was being incredibly foolish to risk so much for a girl. Losing a lover seemed preferable to me than risking death or tranquility. I thought he should go to Irving and explain the whole situation but he wouldn't give up Lily. I told them I had to think about it, then went straight to Irving myself only to find out that he already knew about Lily and that Jowan was going to be made tranquil anyways.

I briefly considered telling Irving about Jowan's escape plan. It might help prove that I was loyal to the circle, and therefore, help my case that it was safe to let me leave. But I couldn't betray Jowan like that if there was still a chance that he could succeed. I still believed that he had been wronged, that he was being punished due to rumors and politics, not because he had actually dabbled in blood magic. I could not be involved in condemning a fellow mage and a good friend just to reassure chantry fears. I certainly didn't feel like I own the chantry or the tower anything at that point. Neither could I blame Jowan for his desire to be free. But to actually help him would mean risking my life, all my hard work to prove myself, for a friend who would probably end up tranquil or dead anyways. If we were caught, I could give up on ever seeing the outside of the tower. Even if he managed to escape, if it was discovered that I had helped him, I would most likely end up sentenced to death for aiding a Malificar whether or not he had actually ever used blood magic. Still, Jowan and Lilly they claimed that their plan would not work without me. I was not happy about simply standing by and doing nothing while my friend's life was destroyed. I had promised myself that I would not go down without a fight again, that I wouldn't let fear rule me… did that include fighting for a friend?

In the end I choose to help Jowan, not so much because I thought the plan would work, but because I wasn't sure I could live with myself if I didn't. It turned out they needed me because I had already gone through my harrowing, unlike Jowan and most of his other friends. I was able to obtain a rod of fire easily enough as well as get us pass the defenses and into the repository. I began to feel almost hopeful once we destroyed Jowen's phylactery and began to make our way back upstairs. They caught us as we were coming out of the basement. A part of me will always wonder what would have happened if Jowan hadn't used blood magic then. I might have been speared a death sentence. Then again, maybe I should have tried to escape with him when he ran. The templars still had my phylactery, but I might have had a chance. Instead I stood there like an idiot, shocked that he had lied to me. I would be dead now if Duncan hadn't saved me. I wonder if I still would have helped Jowan if I had known Duncan was considering recruiting me or if I knew he was actually a blood mage. I guess I should consider the whole mess a success after all. Jowan escaped and I got to leave the tower. Only poor Lily ended up being punished. Jowan lied to her as well and it turned out not to be her fault that Jowan was being made Tranquil in the first place. I still think they were both foolish, but I'm told that love tends to have that effect. I think I will always carry the guilt of knowing Lilly suffered while Jowan and I went free. I wonder if Jowan feels the same.

I've had plenty of time to consider my feeling on the matter as I follow Duncan to Ostagar. He doesn't talk much unless he has something important to say, and we've already established that I'm a quiet one. I will say this for Duncan, he's an excellent person to travel with. He's been extremely patient with my lack of knowledge about life outside of the tower and how to take care of myself in general. He neither yells at me nor tries to baby me, instead just explaining what to do and teaching me what I need to know. I feel the beginnings of a crush developing. He saved my life; he's like my own personal knight and shining armor. He's good looking too, not that I would ever act on such feelings. Still, I've been enjoying being with him. It makes me feel good about my future as a Gray Warden.

It'll probably be months before I feel halfway competent, but with Duncan around I don't feel nearly as lost as I should considering that I haven't left the tower in about 15 years. I've become reacquainted with the concept of blisters, though this time I can heal them myself. I've also found that lightning bolts are remarkably effective at killing fish, so I don't feel completely useless. Duncan even showed me how to clean and cook them so that I could take my turn at providing our evening meal. Duncan reassures me that my skills will be just as effective against the darkspawn. I find myself both excited and nervous at the idea of actually doing something with my magic. In the tower I occasionally would work a shift in the infirmary, or make potions, but the healing arts were never my particular strength. I've always found it odd how much magic gets taught in the circle that we never get a chance to put to use. Irving says that it has to do with keeping us available in case of an emergency, yet it's so difficult to get the chantry to let us out even with a war brewing. With the Gray Wardens, I would spend my life doing real good, defending the world against a true threat. And I would be allowed to travel, make decisions for myself, and would never again have to live constantly watched and treated like a non-person who might turn into a monster at any moment. I would be allowed to use my magic to defend myself. I would be able to escape those who threaten me. And if Duncan was to be believed, the other Wardens would stand by me and help me, despite my status as a mage, against any foe. Not that I really believe in that last part. Duncan seemed to be a good man, but I doubt that all the Wardens are as free of prejudices as he is. Still, he's their leader. Surely, that would count for something.

Maybe it's finally being free of the tower, but I feel hopeful. Perhaps I shouldn't trust Duncan as much as I find myself doing. I hardly know him. Of course I don't really have a choice about it. I'm stuck with him for now. Without the Wardens I would be forced to return to the tower or hunted down as an apostate. I'm under no illusions about my ability to survive on my own while on the run. I need Duncan, but I don't feel trapped. I'm following him into war. Yet I feel safer than I have in years. There's probably something wrong with me. I certainly need to work on not allowing myself to get distracted by and staring in wondered at every new flower or tree or view we come across, or the darkspawn will simply kill me while I admire a perfectly plain moss cover stone. Wouldn't that be just perfect? At least Duncan seems to be enjoying my constant state on slack jaw wonder.