Tritus Amell woke on the day of his Harrowing expecting to feel different. After all, he was one test away from being a proper mage.
But he felt the same, his morning felt the same, his routine felt the same.
At least, that's how his day started.
Tritus wore his hair in a single braid down his back, though usually he braided his hair himself, with the aid of two mirrors. Today, however, Helena, the mother hen of the apprentices, insisted on braiding his hair for him.
"Are you sure you do not want something more elegant?" Helena asked, picking at the hair.
"I'm certain," Tritus said politely, "Thank you though."
Helena and Tritus had a long standing feud over his appearance. "No reason to look good," Tritus always said. "No reason to look like a slob," was Helena's long-standing response.
Helena being fussy wasn't new or strange. What was new was the stares being directed at Tritus.
It wasn't until breakfast that the stares turned into a mite bit more.
"This isn't right," Eadric, an elven apprentice, complained quietly.
"We need to prove ourselves capable," Keili chastised.
"It isn't the Harrowing I object to," Eadric clarified, "Pass or die, take it or become tranquil. We have done nothing to earn their ire."
Tritus merely ate his breakfast, deaf to the quiet argument around him. He scanned the banquet hall, looking for Jowen. Eventually he made eye contact with his old friend, who nodded and raised his cup at Tritus.
Too soon, Tritus was snapped out of his numbness by the booming voice of the Knight Commander, "Tritus Amell, we are ready for you."
As Tritus stood he said to his fellow apprentices, "Right or wrong, I'll succeed and be back later."
It's been said that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and it was good intentions that led Tritus to the Grey Wardens, he wanted to help Jowen, his friend for as long as either could remember.
Jowen wanted to live in peace with Lily, and Lily just wanted to love Jowen.
But as soon as Jowen plunged a dagger into his hand, and used forbidden magic to escape, intentions became irrelevant.
Because Lily, for all her good intentions, was sent to the mages prison. For his, Tritus was facing execution.
And poor Jowen had to run from the only friends he'd ever known, watch as affection turned to hatred, because he had the best intentions.
If it weren't for Duncan and his writes of conscripts, intentions would have been the death of Tritus Amell.
But with luck, he would find a place among the Wardens, a place where good intentions are met with good results.
Though personally, he doubted it.