A/N: In this story, the Warden is from my play-through, the rogue Jayda Cousland. The mage origin story is seen in this tale, but I've altered things to remove the Warden aspect from her life. She is still an Amell, however, and the cousin of Aras Hawke from my DA2 play-through. The story covers events in both games.

The First Night

"The Circle is pretty predictable," she explained. "The training, the ceremonies, rituals, visitations—all standard and calendared. There are only three types of new faces, and none of them usually in a rush. The first is new templars recently completed their training and come to the Circle. It's a steady thing; training to be a templar isn't far-off from mage training in that it takes years of learning and discipline and mastery.

"Then there's the Three C's: the Chantry, Circle, and Common visitors. The first two are self-explanatory, really: templars and mages from other cities passing through. The Commons are visits from family and friends—but those are rarer. The Circle prefers no one interferes in the apprentices' studies for fear they'll lose focus.

"Lastly, there's new mages. Sometimes apostates are brought in but mostly its young ones with recently discovered talent come to train—like you."

The young boy raised his brows, attempting to absorb the information spewed at him. He looked down at his hands in his lap and blinked. The apprentice touched the top of his head.

"Don't worry, Devlin," she said. "It won't be so scary soon enough. I think you'll find training here very fulfilling. I know you miss your mum and dad now. You're the youngest mageling I've ever met—not even seven years old. But don't worry. Just be strong. And if you ever get scared or homesick, come talk to me, all right? I'll help you."

"How?" he asked; his voice held hidden fear.

"I'll lend you my strength," she told him and smiled. "Now, get some sleep. Big day tomorrow, yes?" She tucked him in, blew the candle at his bedside out, and crept out of the dorm, gently shutting the door behind her.

Enaara Amell's amber eyes flicked down the hall. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but she'd been worried about the Circle's latest recruit. Devlin was small for a boy, and he was so young. Her feet padded quietly down the green carpet in the hallway, praying she wouldn't meet any templars on her trek back to her room. As unlikely as a punishment harsher than a scolding would be, she had no desire to cross paths with one of the more iron-fisted templars and get stuck with extra duties for a week.

She crept up the stairs to the second apprentice hall where the older apprentices slept. She'd nearly reached the door when the clank of the bulky templar armor reached her ears and she knew there was one right around the corner.

"Damn," she hissed, sweeping across the hall and ducking through a door to the centrum where a staircase led to the lower levels and other doors opened up to storerooms and utility closets. She backed into one of the ornate barricades and shadows, watching as Ser Malray crossed in front of the door and continued his round. She sighed, counted to ten, and then slipped back into the hallway.

Almost immediately, she smacked into something cold and hard, making a loud CLAP sound. Hands closed around her arms to steady her and the realization that she'd been caught made her heart start thumping.

"I'm sorry—" the templar and mage said in unison.

Enaara looked up into her captor's face and they instantly went momentarily rigged when they recognized one another.

"A-are you all right?" Ser Cullen asked. Enaara nodded quickly.

"I'm fine," she replied. "Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going. I was… in a hurry."

"Yes, I can see that." He cleared his throat and there was awkward silence for an endless few seconds; he released his hold on her. "It's… past curfew."

"Yes," she quickly agreed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and stepping on her tippy-toes around him, "so I should get to bed."

"Enaara," he said at her back, stopping her in her tracks. She glanced back. "I have to ask why. You know that."

She tipped her head back and filled herself with faith; he had asked why, not just slapped her with punishment. Cullen was different. She's always known he was different. She wondered if he was different for only her…

Though he'd always seemed to be present in the tower ever since she was a little girl first come to the Circle, neither had noticed each other until they were already blossoming in their youth. One day, she looked up and thought, he's so handsome… for a templar. Since then, she'd found herself looking his way, and then one day when she looked, she found him staring back at her. It wasn't unusual for the templars to watch the mages, but there was something shy and gentle about his gaze. She imagined it was for her and her alone—for the woman she was, not the mage.

"Devlin," Enaara explained, "is young… and frightened. I just wanted to give him some comfort. I remember the other children telling scary stories every night my first week here. I barely slept. Children do not change and I didn't want Devlin to suffer that so… I waited until the others had gone to sleep and attempted to ease his mind about coming here." She hesitated a moment then added, "it isn't easy for us mages to be uprooted from our families and homes and carted off to a strange and restricted place all for a power we don't even know we have, much less understand."

Cullen didn't give away much with his expression, but she didn't read any cruel lines in his face.

"Then I'm glad you've taken him under your wing," he finally said. "Although you really shouldn't be out past curfew, you have a fair reason." He turned ninety degrees like he was doing to leave. "You should be more careful next time… If Devlin has any nightmares, I'll know who to blame."

His understanding was moderately expected, but his kindness was almost shocking. She stood temporarily stunned while a sudden fire in her chest warmed her cheeks. She guessed he took her silence as the end of the encounter because he nodded and moved to finish his patrol.

"If you're so concerned," Enaara blurted before she had a chance to think about what she was saying, "you could always be my unofficial escort."

He glanced back and she detected it—nervousness, in the way his eyes shifted and the skin around them tightened as he narrowed his gaze. It made her unexpectedly happy and she couldn't help but smile freely. The clank-clank of patrolling armor entered the vicinity. The unsure expression vanished and he motioned her away.

"You should get to bed," he said, "before someone else catches you up."

She was already moving to the door, stopping before she opened it only to look back.

"Goodnight, Ser Cullen," she told him, "and thank you."

He just nodded once and she ducked inside her room. The dormitory was dark save for a candle burning at the far end of the room. She tip-toed over, spying her best friend reading. She suddenly flopped onto the bottom bunk, flying out of the darkness and startling him so intensely that he flipped the book over the table and fell back out of his chair.

"Burning the midnight oil?" she whispered, unable to keep the laughter out of her voice.

"Enaara!" Jowan hissed from somewhere on the floor. "You demon-possessed witch! Abomination!" he cursed as he picked himself up and put the chair up right. "Daughter of darkspawn!" he went on, carrying himself around the table to pick up his book.

"I get the picture, Jowan," she mumbled. "Generally, evil in its rawest and purest form. What are you reading this late, anyway?"

"Nothing really," he admitted. "Just a record of the Storm Age."

"That's unusually boring of you."

"Granted," he agreed, "but Enchanter Tierra is convinced there's something important for me to learn here that somehow connects with my current studies."

Enaara shrugged and rolled off the bed, ducking in the darkness. The rustling of her robe being removed was enough warning to turn Jowan around; he folded his arms across his chest, back to her while she changed, and went on about what he'd read and what Enchanter Tierra claimed was important until someone harshly whispered for him to shut up and go to sleep.

Jowan blew out his candle and climbed to the top of the bunk next to hers while Enaara crawled into the bottom half of the one that belonged to her.

"Where have you been, huh?" he asked.

"Putting Devlin to bed," she replied, and he just nodded in the darkness and rolled over. She didn't add any details—he knew what motivated her to reach out to the young recruits. More than that, she kept the part about Cullen to herself. It was a secret memory just for them—a mage and a templar.