EDIT:

I decided I didn't like how I started. I also had some ideas about why Surana is at the Conclave, and needed to set it up better, so I edited and added some things.

What if your Warden became the Inquisitor?

A story inspired by a Kink Meme prompt, in which the Inquisitor is an unlucky Warden who needs to learn to keep his nose out of the world's business.

I chose my favorite (and only) Warden, Lysaldoren Surana, Ice/Blood Mage with a healthy side of Healer. He should be interesting to use. I gave him poor eyesight (farsighted/can see things far away but has trouble reading) and some anger issues that were mostly worked out during the ten or so years between Origins and Inquisition. He's terrified of Demons, hates the Circles and misses his Assassin boyfriend with a passion.

Darkness. Everything was surrounded by darkness. Swirls of fog obscured anything and everything. It felt almost like he was out of his body, like a dream. Still, when the skittering began, he knew he had to run. They were everywhere, large black bodies with twisting frames, chasing him on uneven terrain until he was scaling a mountain.

A warm light washed over him. He climbed further, crawling towards the light. A hand reached for him, their fingers touching, darkness encroaching, reach further, a spark-

He woke with a gasp, pain flaring, tearing, pulling the palm of his left hand. It was gone almost as soon as it came, with a flash of green light. There was only a dull aching, a more subtle pain that crawled up his arm, setted into his shoulder, scratched against his brain. He watched, enthralled and terrified by the shimmering scar on his palm, twisting and spiraling intricately, pulsing with pure energy.

His hands were bound in chain, secured to the floor. Flashbacks of Fort Drakon were immediately conjured. His eyes slammed shut, trying to block the images. The sound. The overwhelming fear of being alone, surrounded by the enemy. Screams of pain, the sound of strange devices built for torture, the smell, overwhelming, fear, sweat, sewage- Deep breaths. Terrified, gasping breaths. The only sound was a deep, unceasing hum. There was no smell other than dust, and the pleasant rot of old books.

It was… not comforting. his eyes opened again, staring at the scar on his palm. He swallowed roughly, almost choking as the muscles of his throat rubbed dryly against each other, tearing apart and forcing a cough past his lips. Finally, he looked away from the mark on his hand, and noticed he wasn't alone. Guards, Templars, posted on either side of him. At least six, swords poised, ready to take his magic and cut him down. Their shadows stretched impossibly far, pitch black, like the waters of Blackmarsh.

'Where am I?' He thought, imagining himself back at the Circle. Locked in a stone prison, forced to recite the Chant of Light, repenting the sins of his birth. Repeating until his voice cracked, for hours upon hours, until he was left to sleep, only to start again in the morning, after a splintered mug of water and bread as tough as the rags he slept on.

'No, not the Circle. Where am I?' He repeated in his mind, aware of the many sets of eyes glaring at him. He felt so sluggish, tired. Like he did when Sloth pulled him into the Fade, hours of traversing the hellish tower. Like when he was forced to swallow vial after vial of Magebane. Like the oppressive song of the Archdemon whispering to him.

His head was still not clear when the door yards in front of him burst open, a tall woman with dark hair rushing in like a storm. Her hand was buried in the fabric of his scarf before he could blink, pulling him forward as she snarled in his face.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you now!"

He swallowed again, nearly toppling over when the woman pushed him back, straightening herself so she could pace a slow circle around him. Her form was twisted and out of focus. Poison dripped from her voice, sounding like a whole separate person mimicking and echoing her words. The words ringing his ears. It was like seeing double, only… hearing it.

"The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead."

She was going too quickly for his addled mind to keep up. His eyes focussed on anything but her, flitting across the face of each Templar- No, not Templars, he realized. Soldiers, shaking with fear. Of him? Of the woman? She continued to speak, but he continued to search. A familiar face with her arms crossed tightly across her chest stared down on him, the gaze more frightening than the fingers wrenching his head back painfully. He could feel several strands of his long blonde hair catch in the plates of her armored gloves, tearing free as she moved on.

"Explain this!" The woman, he likened her to a rage demon, grasped his hand, still aching and sputtering green flashes, holding it out as if to remind him it existed. This was a nightmare, he realized. His eyes never moved from her face. She wore a steeled glare, sending shivers down his spine when her eyes locked onto his. He could feel his eyes widen as a flicker of recognition flashed across the blue orbs.

The thought that a demon could recognize him was bad enough, but doing so while taking the form of one of his closest friends made it terrifying. He forced himself to look at the demon encircling him instead. Her face was scarred, angry as she leaned in, repeating her question. His stomach churned painfully as he spared another glance at the mark.

"I… can't." His voice came out as cracked as it did after long hours of chanting.

"What do you mean you can't?"

He shrunk in on himself. "I don't know what that is, or how it got there," he squeaked, surprised he could even speak at all in the demon's presence. Tendrils of her shadows reached for him as she leaned in.

"You're lying!" She shrieked, pulling on the end of his scarf, tightening it around his neck, can't breathe-

"We need him, Cassandra."

Her voice was perfectly imitated as well as her looks. The only clue to the imitation was that echo, bouncing around in his head. He couldn't listen to her any longer. His eyes screwed shut, his head bowed down so he didn't have to look. "If I don't look at them they can't have me" he chanted under his breath. "Wake up, wake up…"

She crouched down in front of him, lifting his head with her right hand, and stared into his eyes with a suspecting, searching glare. It was softer than before, but he knew that only made her more dangerous.

"Do you remember what happened? How this began?"

Where her skin touched his, he could feel it burn. The shadows stroked his cheek, leaving trails of fire. He jerked his head back, stumbling as he threw himself off balance. She caught him before he tumbled over.

"You have nothing to be afraid of, my friend." She assured him as best she could.

"I won't make deals with demons…" His words felt hollow, like the life had been sucked out of him. She shook her head, straightened to a standing position and turned to the other demon.

"He still thinks he is in the Fade, Cassandra."

The demon was about to respond, when he choked out an answer. Make them go away, so he could… think? His head was clearer but everything was still fuzzy. Trying to remember what happened only worsened the sensation. It was like a part of him had been ripped away. It was dangling in front of him but he just couldn't reach it. The humming made it hard to concentrate.

"I was running. The song… there were things… demons? Chasing me. Then… a woman…?"

"A woman?"

"She reached for me, then…" he trailed off, staring at his hand again. It sparked, and the light fizzled. His head was clear, but there was still so much fog. "She wasn't a demon."

The rage demon stepped in, touching her shoulder.

"Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take him to the rift."

Leliana? Demon. Leliana.

"Be careful with him , Cassandra."

He watched her leave with wide eyes, not registering the demon unlocking his chains, until he was roughly pulled to his feet. She steadied him as he swayed.

"You are not in the Fade any longer." Her voice trembled, as if she were holding back some emotion. The look in her eye told him she was containing a vast amount of frustration.

"I… don't dream in the Fade," he mumbled, the sudden revelation crashing over him. He hadn't been able to since the Joining. "Is this real? I don't understand." The demon pulled him along a dark corridor, explaining as they moved. His sense of balance seemed to return to him as they ascended the stairs leading into the tall, open space of a Chantry, then out the large double doors.

He stopped abruptly when sharp sunlight assaulted his eyes. Looking past the brightness, he noticed a green glow cast over everything. Not three steps out the door, pain erupted again from the mark on his hand, forcing him to his knees. He held his hand tightly to his body, whimpering at the agony of that felt like knives ripping through his flesh.

He realized then he was definitely not dreaming. What he was seeing was too outrageous to be a dream. A green swirling vortex in the sky, his hand crackling with the energy of some unknown magic. Nothing made sense.

He wished he was dreaming.

My Warden is the Male Surana. He specializes in Ice magic, and any spell that slows down the enemy. Freezing spells and paralysis spells won him the Fifth Blight. He became a blood Mage after meeting Avernus at Soldier's Peak, utilizing his tainted blood to augment his magic. His signature move is Blood Wound, which is an augmented Mass Paralysis spell that stops enemies in their tracks. He's a very skilled Healer, after having to learn on the road. His ability to channel his own life energy into healing magic lets him heal almost on par with a Spirit healer like Wynne or Anders. As with most Blood Mages, healing magic has little affect on him. He can't heal himself unless he takes the life from someone else. He refuses to drain life from companions, and he hates the idea of using Blood Magic to control someone. He uses his blood purely to heal and protect. He relies on potions, since his Companions would expend too much energy healing him.

You can tell he and Dorian are going to be best friends (sarcasm).

I'm debating on whether or not to include my lavellan so he can romance Dorian. Surana is already in a relationship with Zevran.

I found a prompt on the K!Meme and decided to do my best to fill it. I don't know how far I'll get with this, but It's been fun so far. I'll try to keep everyone in character, but sometimes I'm afraid I might not even keep Surana in character. i'm not familiar with any of the Dragon Age characters in terms of writing. But I want to take this far as I can, so I'll try and look past it, and maybe one day come back and fix it if I ever finish it.