This was written for the 2012 Dragon Age Big Bang on Livejournal. Please check out there, where you can see fantastic art by wadebramwilson and eyeofmantorok, or find this story on AO3.

Very special thanks to fluidfyre for a last minute beta.

A few people asked about a sequel to The Romantic Adventures of Florian Phineas and this is what happened. If you haven't read that piece, the gist of it is that Finn and Dagna are perfect for each other, they like books, and they make out.

It was just after dinner and just before curfew. In a forgotten alcove at the back of the basement, Finn raised his hands and lit a small fire with his mind. Beside him, Dagna's eyes lit up like they always did when he cast magic. She had been in the Tower with him for nearly a eight years, yet every moment of magic for her was like the first time.

When she looked up, her big blue eyes filled with the same awe and affection too. After all this time it still amazed him that she had chosen him, out of all the mages she might have chosen. No one else had ever looked at him like that. It was a look that still filled him with pride, and warmth, and other things he couldn't put words to. Not in Trade, anyway.

"Ei sum cor micante umo dragonnud," he said, quoting a favorite bit of Tevinter poetry. He had never been to Tevinter, of course, the Circle would never approve a trip like that, but he had made a lifelong study of their culture. He could not flatter himself to say he was an expert. He pushed his face into her hair. "Eil amor incense."

Dagna smiled indulgently. "Nedarius. You always return to the romantics." She looked back at the fire. "Do you ever just light a fire? You know, with a flint and kindling, like the rest of us."

"No." Finn shrugged. "I know it looks impressive, but the spell is terribly simple." He had been making fire since he was six years old, and it had been rather terrifying the first time it happened, but after so many years in the Tower it was just an easy way to warm his hands. "Anyway, I wouldn't even know how to do it the normal way."

"Mmm, I don't suppose you would."

Dagna leaned back against the wall. It was the same place where she always reclined, and Finn had carefully dusted it before she arrived. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Did you—"

A clatter of metal from upstairs interrupted his question.

"What was that?" Dagna asked. She sat up straight and stared, wide eyed, at the door that opened out to the atrium. It was still closed, locked tight behind them, and the stairs that led up to it were still dark and quiet. Finn tugged her hand and pulled her back to him.

"Probably just the templars, getting ready for curfew," he said. "Which is in seventeen minutes, by the way." He trailed a finger down her arm. "I have all this beautiful poetry memorized. It would be a shame if I had to recite it alone. By myself. In my bunk."

"That would be slightly less romantic." Dagna managed a laugh. "I'm sorry, I've been so jumpy lately. It's just... after what that mage Anders did in Kirkwall..." She looked at him, and he was surprised to see genuine concern in her dark eyes. "Do you ever worry that could happen here? That our Tower could fall?"

"No. Never." Dagna seemed unconvinced, but Finn only rolled his eyes. "Kirkwall is a dreadful place. Their Circle is literally called the Gallows. As in hanging. Not to mention the ground is cursed by the blood of ten thousand slaves." His stomach turned just thinking about it, and Finn shook his head. "Ferelden isn't like that. We're much more reasonable."

"But there was a rebellion here once," Dagna said. "The libertarian uprising of 9:30. Uldred's revolt."

"Indeed. And yet here we are. Didn't really catch on, did it?" Finn smiled. "Anders lived here himself, you know, back in the day, and even he never blew up more than a pot of popcorn."

Which was something of an exaggeration, Anders had always been, well, Anders, but even so. Dagna exhaled. "You're right," she said. She relaxed against his shoulder. "It's just that my whole life, I've only wanted one thing. To be here. To study magic here in the Tower." She bit her lip. "If the something happened..."

Finn squeezed her shoulders. "Highly unlikely." Kinloch Hold had stood for two thousand years, unchanging, like a postcard from the past. It would always be there, Finn thought, just as the mystery meat they served on Thursdays would always be gray, just as Kirkwall would always be cursed, and just as Dagna would always smile indulgently when he quoted Nedarius.

Well, he hoped she would, anyway. Finn kissed her behind the ear. "Sic venev, cicaro, et fervev veil manud."

Dagna snorted. "Tevinters and their mixed metaphors," she said, but she smiled again, and then she turned to him and closed her eyes. She leaned towards him, and his heart fluttered the way it always did. There was another clatter of metal, louder now, but he ignored it. He still had at least sixteen minutes, he thought; that would probably be enough.

Then the door blew off its hinges, and it all fell apart.

-o-

Finn found himself on the floor; the explosion had knocked him to his back. He didn't know how long he'd been lying there. His ears were ringing, and his head felt like he'd been a snack for a cave troll. He tried to stand, felt unsteady, sat down again. He put his hand to his face, saw blood on his fingers. Finn felt nauseous. What kind of healer is afraid of a little blood? He blinked, held his nose, tried to heal himself.

"Viva la revolucion!"

He thought he caught Kinnon's voice– no one else in the Tower spoke Orlesian with that much egg– but he couldn't quite grasp what was happening. Even when the dust cleared and he saw Kinnon standing with Petra amidst the rubble, holding a pair of hammers, he still couldn't make sense of it.

He looked down; his little fire had gone out. The explosion must have swallowed it. Dagna was still sitting on the floor, blinking, her clothes covered in dust. She looked up at him. "Why..."

"Grab the phylacteries and start smashing," he thought he heard Petra, "before the templars catch on we're not in the Great Hall anymore."

Finn pushed himself to his feet. His hand found the wall and he steadied himself. Then their alcove was swarmed by a horde of filthy apprentices who smelled like fire and sweat, and there was dust and glass and coagulated mage blood everywhere. One of the apprentices stepped on his foot, leaving a print across the dragonskin. His head spun.

"What's going on?" he managed.

"We're revolting!" Kinnon proclaimed, which was true enough. "Come on, we have to break out of here before they catch on to us!"

"But..." Finn looked around, blinking the dust out of his eyes. His head was starting to clear. "But I don't want to revolt."

"I'm not even a prisoner..." Dagna added.

"Well, unless you want to die, Flora, you had better come with us," Petra said. "They're invoking the Rite of Annulment."

"It's Finn now, actually, why can't you all remember that, and… what?!" Finn gaped at her. "What in the Void did you do?"

Kinnon and Petra ran back up the stairs without answering, as Finn tried to make sense of what Petra had said. They couldn't possibly have invoked the Rite already, could they? Already? Wouldn't he have noticed if the other mages had been planning something dire?

Near the door, Finn saw a templar, his body slumped on the stone floor. Hadley. Finn went to him, instinctively drawing power from the Fade, readying a healing spell. He was going to be so annoyed when he woke up, Finn thought. He cradled the templar's head in his hands, and blue light spilled from his fingers, but nothing happened. Hadley didn't stir. Finn touched a finger to his neck, and then his blood went cold, and he let Hadley fall limply to the floor.

Gods, he realized, finally, as it all sank in. So this is really happening.

Ser Hadley had been the decent sort, a friend even; he let Finn have the key to the basement whenever he wanted. The key was still in his pocket. Finn reached for it, turning it over in his hand. He realized he didn't know what to do with it now.

Dagna knelt beside him. "Is he...?" Finn nodded, and she touched his hand. "Finn, I'm so sorry." She swallowed. "But I think it would be better if nobody found you crouching over a dead templar."

Finn looked at her, and she looked back at him with wide eyes. They would kill them all for this, he realized. Even him. Apart from Hadley, the templars didn't really know Finn from a marsh witch, and he was going to get blamed along with the others.

He had to run. He wondered if he had time to go upstairs and fetch his staff Vera. Maybe his hat. Would he be able to take any of his books? The ground shook, from some magical explosion or a stampeding templar horde, Finn couldn't guess. He lost his balance. As he picked himself up he decided he could do without his hat.

"We have to go," Dagna said, tugging his hand. "Now. It isn't safe for you here."

Finn agreed. He looked to the front door, but the exit was already blocked, barred from the outside. An incandescent film of energy shimmered in the archway. Kinnon, Petra and some of the other apprentices— Finn counted eight of them, now— all stood at the doorway, and Finn went to them, Dagna beside him. Kinnon tapped the door with his finger and recoiled when it zapped him.

"A righteous barrier," Dagna said. Finn nodded; it was the same defense the templars had used during Uldred's revolt. The door was impenetrable from the inside.

"They got that up a lot faster this time, didn't they?" Petra said. Kinnon nodded, and she crossed her arms. "There goes our daring escape by rowboat."

"You do have a backup plan, though?" Finn asked.

Kinnon glanced back at him. "Um," he said. Petra grimaced.

Finn sighed. "Of course you don't." He headed towards the open hallway. "Well, come on," he said, glancing over his shoulder. "Unless you want to be annulled?"

After a moment, Kinnon nodded and the others moved to follow him. He led them down the winding hall and through the sweeping archway into the zoology section.

Kinnon frowned. "This is the library," he said.

Finn rolled his eyes. "Such stunning powers of observation, I can see why the templars fear you." He skirted an overturned table and leading them towards the east wall. The lower stacks were already in flames, and Finn let out a whimper. So many priceless volumes were already lost.

"Stone take us..." Dagna stared at the shattered rows of shelves, at the piles of ash and scorched leather that had once been their shared joy. Finn touched her shoulder; they couldn't save them. After a moment Dagna nodded, wiping her eyes, and Finn pulled himself away.

One of the bookshelves lay on its side, the wood splintered and the books scattered over the floor. With all possible care, Finn climbed over it and leaned against the wall. There should be a small indentation like a crescent moon; he remembered the illustration clearly. It was worn by time but he still found it, and he pushed until it gave. Then the wall opened up, revealing a narrow hallway.

"After you," Finn said.

Kinnon stared at him for a moment before he shut his mouth and then stepped into the tunnel. Petra and the others hurried after him. Dagna took his hand, and Finn sealed the entrance behind them. The light of the library disappeared with it, and they were lost in total darkness until Petra summoned a spell wisp. The faint light of the spell guided their steps.

"What is this place?" one of the apprentices asked; Finn thought her name was Ada. Beside them, Kinnon ran a finger over the polished stone walls, pulling away grime.

"It's a secret passageway," Finn explained. "It was built by the Avvars, back when this was Kinloch Hold."

Kinnon lowered his hand. "Do the templars know about this?"

Finn shrugged. "They would if they ever bothered to read The Tevinter Invasion in the original Tevene." He frowned, trying to remember the text. "It lets out near the Gherlen's Pass, I think."

"What?" Kinnon stared at him. "Are you telling me that you knew about a secret passageway that leads out of the Tower, under Lake Calenhad, and takes you halfway to bloody Jader and you've never thought to use it?"

Finn huffed. "Not everyone wants to run willy-nilly into homelessness!"

Kinnon pulled his hands down over his face, distorting his features and leaving a trail of dirt down his cheek. After a moment he waved his hand. "Never mind, it doesn't matter now. Let's just keep moving."

And they forged ahead, leaving everything they knew behind them, with only blind faith and the light of Petra's wisp to guide them. Finn quickened his step to walk beside her.

"Why are you doing this?" Petra had always been reasonable, he thought. She turned to look at him, and Finn frowned. "You were here for Uldred. You know how awful it was."

"That wasn't our time." The wisp flickered out. Petra flicked her fingers and cast it again. The purple glow cast long shadows over her soft features, lit up her dark eyes. "But the world has changed, Anders showed us. Our time has come."

Finn crossed his arms. "Well, thanks a lot Anders." Petra gave him a look he couldn't read, then shrugged and left him behind, striding ahead to find Kinnon. Finn fell in step with Dagna again. "This is crazy." He said it quietly so only she could hear him. "You'd think I would have noticed a revolution."

"The other mages were acting a little strange," Dagna said.

"Maybe." Finn thought on this. Kinnon and Petra had been meeting together in the dormitories lately, and they had always gone silent the moment Finn entered the room, but that was hardly noteworthy; they always did that. And Kinnon had been volunteering to clean the latrines rather often, which he never did. Finn had been wondering what he was trying to prove. And then Finn remembered that Owain had been out of drakestone last week, which was odd, because they only ran out of drakestone when a war was on. But drakestone wasn't dangerous on its own, for volatility you needed...

Oh. Finn shuddered, and his stomach turned. Revolutions were disgusting.

The others had wandered ahead, half shadowed in the dark tunnel. Dagna lifted her chin and sniffed. "The air here is stale," she said. "I don't think this tunnel lets out anywhere at all."

She was right. Some ways in the tunnel came to an abrupt end, where a mound of red-brown stone and mud had spilled over the path from floor to ceiling, blocking their exit. In the light of Petra's wisp, he saw a ribbon of water trickling out of the ceiling. Moss covered some of the higher stones.

Finn frowned. His information was perhaps a bit out of date.

Kinnon poked the obstruction with his staff. "We have to blast our way out."

"But the tunnel will collapse," Dagna sputtered. "We're at the bottom of Lake Calenhad, we'll drow—"

But one of the apprentices had already raised his staff. Finn reached for his and panicked when he remembered he'd left Vera behind. The tunnel exploded with earth magic. Finn tried to open a wide channel to the Fade, but without his staff it was like pulling a net through honey. The roof opened up and all of Lake Calenhad came crashing in.

Finn reached for Dagna and wrapped his arms around her. He thought he could manage an ice spell. Ice floated, right? He thought it did. Water roared into the tunnel, and Dagna screamed and then the water swallowed her voice. His magic flashed out. Ice encased them and the world went dark.

And cold.

Really, really cold.

So this is what all those hurlocks felt like. The ice cracked on the surface, and he broke free, gasping for air, but there was nothing beneath his feet and Finn choked on a mouthful of murky water instead. He grabbed onto the last of the ice and reached for her, saw two pigtails fall beneath the waves.

"Dagna?" The ice melted into the water and Finn dropped under the waves. His hands flapped ineffectually. He had never learned how to swim. He had never wanted to learn, he had never seen the point. He was going to die. Water rushed over his head, feeling his ears with a white rush of nothing. He remembered to kick. He pushed his head back above the water again. "Dagna!"

Someone grabbed his arm, and then Kinnon was pulling him to shore. Finn hacked up a lungful of water and muck and things he really never meant to swallow and struggled to his feet, blinking grime from his eyes, trying to find Dagna. Two apprentices came thrashing out of the water, collapsing on the shore and coughing up mud. Finn turned and ran back into the water, felt the waves breaking against his legs, bearing him down. Then Petra burst out the water, and his gut twisted when he saw the dwarf slung over her back. The two women collapsed on the shore.

"We did it!" Petra found her footing and Kinnon clasped her in his arms. "We're free! Can you believe it, we made it out..."

Finn stumbled to Dagna. "Are you alright?"

"Could... be... worse," Dagna wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the crisp harvest wind. "Can you...?"

He nodded and reached for the Fade, but found to his alarm that he was tapped out. Freezing and nearly drowning could do that to a man. He spread his hands to try again, but only a few sparks sputtered uselessly from his fingers. "I'm sorry, no... I can't." Finn felt sick, and helpless, and if he wasn't so cold he would have flushed.

"Oh. O...kay." She tried to smile, but her teeth were chattering too hard, and she buried her face in his chest. They huddled together like wet mabari in the cold.

Then Dagna made the mistake of looking up at the sky. It continued on forever, in all directions, an infinite blue emptiness spreading out above them. Her eyes glazed over. She looked dizzy, and he reached to steady her.

"What's wrong?"

Dagna shifted from one foot from the other and forced her eyes to the ground. "Look, I know by now that we aren't actually going to fall into the sky. I did walk all the way here from Orzammar, once. It's just that it's so..." She glanced up at the sky again, then buried her face in his chest. "Huge."

"I know what you mean." Finn looked up. He couldn't see them yet, but he knew the mosquitoes were already swarming. Before long it would be bears, too, he was sure, and templars and varterrals and mage-hating peasants and whatever else there was in the world that would like to eat him alive. He shivered inside his wet robes.

Kinnon strode back over to them. "Sorry we couldn't warn you about all this, Flora—"

"It's really Finn."

"Right." Kinnon shrugged. "Look, we would have brought you in, but you've always been so chummy with the templars. We weren't sure where you'd land in all this."

Finn's hands closed into fists. "You weren't really sure where you'd land either, it seems." He looked around. In the moonlight, on the shore of the lake, he saw only three of the apprentices had made it out of the water. Ada wasn't one of them. He couldn't think about it, and looked up at the sky, taking note of the stars. "North, by the way. We landed on the north shore."

"Yeah, thanks for that, by the way. Now we're off to Orlais." Apparently this was why Kinnon had been learning Orlesian. "Going to take the fight straight to the Divine!" He clapped Finn on the back. "You should come with us."

Dagna touched his arm. "Maybe he's right," she said. "At least until we figure out what we're going to do."

Finn scowled. "But I don't want to rebel."

"Suit yourself," Kinnon said. He took Petra by the hand and raised their fists high. "Allons-y!"

With that, they left, heading west toward a vague promise of rebellion, and Finn and Dagna were left dripping, alone, in the dark. Finn really wished he had his staff, and even his stupid ugly hat. At least then the mosquitoes wouldn't bite his head.

"What now?" Dagna asked.

"Maybe this isn't as bad as we think it is," he said. "Now that Kinnon and his gang are gone, maybe we can go back to the Tower and explain—"

At that moment, the same Tower which had stood against the Tevinters and the Blight and two thousand years of magical mayhem chose that exact moment to topple to the ground. Fire roared from its core as walls snapped, windows cracked, and a shockwave rippled out across the water. Waves crashed against the shore as dust and debris rose up from the suddenly flaccid phallus of Lake Calenhad.

"So that's the Rite of Annulment," Finn said, after some time.

"Dust and ashes..." Dagna stared out across the lake. "All those mages, the templars..."

Finn nodded slowly. He thought also about all the books that were lost, unique and priceless volumes whose words were forever lost. He had always been so careful to wash his hands before he touched their pages. It seemed silly now.

They stared in silence as the acrid smell of sela petrae drifted over them in a cloud of sundered hope.

It was some time before Finn could speak again. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know." Dagna's voice had lost its usual cheer. "We could go find the Warden? He was always so helpful."

"Faren went through the Eluvian, remember?" And Finn had no idea where Ariane's clan had gone; there would be no help from that quarter. "What about your family?" he suggested. Finn couldn't really picture himself living underground, but it would be warm.

"I'm casteless," Dagna reminded him. "I don't think we should go to Orzammar unless you want to run a racket for the Carta."

"Oh." Finn didn't even know what a racket was, much less how to run one. There was really only one other option, and Finn really didn't want to consider it. "I suppose we can go see my father in Amaranthine."

Dagna's eyes widened. "But you haven't spoken in..."

"Seven years?" Finn shrugged and tried to sound optimistic. "I'm his only son. He can't really turn me away, can he?"

Dagna's brow creased, dubiously, but she nodded anyway, and let him lead her up from the shores of Lake Calenhad and into the great wide open. They trudged north, passing from empty meadow to shaded woods. After a few hours, Finn managed to cobble together some mana, and they found a dry patch of dirt and he made a little fire and got their clothes dry. As always his robes were neatly pressed, and his color returned, and Finn started to feel a little more normal.

It was then that it began to rain.

Finn's poem, in translation:

I am the beating heart of the dragon
My love burns
So come closer, darling,
And warm your hands