A SILVER-TONGUED GREY WARDEN

9:10 Dragon

I came from far
Beyond your reality
The ocean of time
It's the odyssey of mine
I am the narrator
And now I'll tell you
Where I've been
And what I saw
And how it ends

Irving knew every single note. That melody was a memory which his dreams had given back to him, a memory he could not have retrieved himself since it's the lullaby his mother used to sing while sitting beside his cradle. More than that: the symbol of a time that would never come back, when he was only a baby and neither demons nor magic's grasp had reached him. A time when his mind was too simple, raw and innocent to be corrupted by either of them. That lullaby had become his shield against the Fade, which itself is the necessary evil every mage has to endure in order to savor his gift. Even the night before, as he was roaming into the Fade and fighting for his life, his lullaby had helped him escape in one piece: it's the reason why he had managed to stay strong, bound to reality and truth, successfully ignoring and fighting every single temptation in his path. In a word, his lullaby is the reason why his Harrowing had gone so smoothly and without any to it, he has kept his innocence close every step of the way; a baby once again, cradled by his mother's voice and the swish of sea waves. Even now, as he enjoyed the winner's sleep, his lullaby and the sea waves, so similar to the crashing of Lake Calendhad's waters on his Tower's base, were what kept him anchored to reality.

Yesterday, Irving had gained his status of Circle mage. He was young and proud of himself, unaware that every new dawning is simply a new test of every mage and a new battle against the demons scratching at the doors. He smiled, basking in his victory and surrounded by his lullaby. He could almost see her: he was an infant, and she was sitting beside him on her old rocking chair. She was humming, and he could see her lovely smile and her face framed by long, honeyed chestnut-brown hair. As sleep slowly overwhelmed him, his mother reached for his cheek for a caress and turned down her voice. The wind hauled the calm, steady whisper of the sea.

"Sleep, my child, my sweet Irving my little one..."

He could still hear her repeating his name, growing tenderness into her voice; it sounded more and more like a monotonous tune.

He waited for her to blow out the candle, but instead the flame grew and grew. As the fire started eating his cradle and the walls of the room, the lullaby didn't stop. Only it was not his lullaby anymore: it was a croaking, tone- deaf cacophony. As the flames devoured his mother's face, turning her into a twisted mask of fire, her smile didn't fade nor she moved away. The croaking chair swung faster and faster as the seastorm outside his house raged, and he started screaming in terror.

Irving opened his eyes, trembling. There was no bed under him. He was drowning in the raging sea. He desperately flailed around, trying to keep his head above water. But to no avail. Using all the force he has left, the mage called for help. Abruptly, the sea was gone and he was tumbling into the gray curtain of the Fade, much deeper than he's ever gone before. Strong arms clamped around him, keeping him from falling down, and it was with horror that he realized they were the arms of a rage demon, his twisted mask of fire so close to his face that they could almost kiss. He tried to scream, only to find out that he couldn't make a sound. He couldn't scream, he couldn't move, only await for the demon to devour his soul and take control of his body. Hopefully the Templars will be able to put him down.

You hear me at last, mortal. You … must listen.

The rage demon's mouth was simply a distortion of his features, and his voice was a roaring snarl echoing all around. Irving trembled under the simple echo of that roar, his head hammering with pain.

The newborn child... must... die. The newborn child will carry ruin to the hall.
The newborn's death would be a blessing to us all.

She... will become a magnificent creature. She will shine with rage and splendor. And... he will be entangled into her fire.

In terror and pain, Irving had no idea who the creature was talking about. And yet, he could only keep listening. He almost fainted when the demon's snarl turns into a raging, inhuman roar.

FEAR THE HEAT OF PASSION, FIRST ENCHANTER! YOU MUST NOT LET THEM IN! THEY WILL BRING IN A MURDEROUS PRICE! DO NOT OPEN THE DOOR OF THE TOWER!

The demon released him, and Irving was falling down right into the heart of the Fade.

For the second time, Irving opened his eyes: this time, bathed in sweat and almost breathless, he looked around at the ceiling of his room. Outside, a storm was raging on Lake Calendhad and his forearms were burning with heat. The pain of his burns was almost insufferable, but at least it served as a reassurance that he was now wide awake and he escaped the clutches of the rage demon. Irving was no fool: he knews exactly how close he came to being possessed. And as he used his healing arts to treat his wounds, he remembered every single shard of his nightmare. Now that he could think clearly, it made no sense: why was a rage demon sent to tempt him, of all demons? And why would a demon pretend to be concerned about the Tower's fate? How could a rage demon, one of the less subtle ones, have conceived of suck a trick? Then again, by no means he was the First Enchanter. It took him only one second to come back to reason: he had to banish every memory of that nightmare. It would only have helped other demons find o him. He couldn't confide in the First Enchanter Remille either. He had to forget everything.

9:30 Dragon, Kinloch Hold

The Moon, she hangs like a cruel portrait
Soft winds whisper the bidding of trees
As this tragedy starts with a shattered glass heart
And the Midnightmare trampling of dreams

As of today, Cullen wasn't sure whether he loved or hated the library.

Ever since he had learnt to read, his father had invested both in his military training and in his education. At the Rutherford house life had been about duty, his days divided equally between work, training and study. Different kinds of duty, but duty nonetheless. He had chosen the Templar's life, but he hadn't expected to come to love the Circle's library too. Since the first time he set foot into the library, three years ago, he'd been enthralled by it: and every day he spent a couple of hours reading. Once the mages were confined to their rooms for the night and he had finished his duties, he was free to stop by the library and enjoy his daily reading. Recently, though, he had started to wonder if he shouldn't have focused on his duties library, after all, was the place where he had met her.

"Well, well, well, Adamaris. I see you can't conjure a proper freezing spell yet. Poor thing."

The apprentice Adamaris almost jumped, then shot a deadly look towards the owner of that velvety voice. Every apprentice in the room looked up as well. That same voice brought Cullen back to the present. Almost panicking, he realized that he had let his mind wander for several minutes, thus leaving the mages without surveillance. He inspected the room quickly: three apprentices were training their elemental spells, in a safety globe which prevented them from accidentally setting the whole room on fire, while the rest were simply studying at their tables. But his inspection was brief: just like the apprentices, he couldn't prevent himself from turning his head towards the girl entering the library.

Neria Surana, the most gifted apprentice of the Circle and Irving's favorite pupil, stood in the doorway, only a few steps away from Cullen. An amused smirk was on her lips as she contemplated the poor Adamaris. She was so close that Cullen could smell her scent, a mixture of orchid and fern. The templar couldn't stop himself from tracing the mage's figure with his eyes. They traveled her slender legs', now hidden under her robes, and lingered on the gentle curve of her back, then proceeded along her thin waist and her shoulders, and lingered on her mild and yet perfect shaped breasts. Then, the templar's gaze reached her graceful neck and the lovely form of her elven years, completing its path with her red hair, gathered through a hair clip into a loose ponytail. Neria tilted her head slightly to the left, and Cullen blinked several times, as if that gesture had freed him from a spell. He glanced around quickly to see if anyone had noticed. Luckily for him, every gaze in the room was intent on Neria: every single female gaze was filled with envy and dislike, while half of the males in the room was staring at her in rapture. Not that she seemed concerned about any of it.

Neria resumed her swaying walk, and Cullen struggle to keep his gaze away from the mage. Still smiling, the red-haired girl pointed to the piece of wood Adamaris had only, and faintly half-frozen.

"How long have you been practicing that spell, Adamaris? Hasn't it been three weeks by now?" continued Neria. She glanced that same piece of wood, raise her right hand and flicked her wrist to the right, simultaneously folding her skillful fingers towards her palm. The wood froze so quickly that a puff of ice billowed upwards.

Neria glared towards Adamaris a satisfied smirk. "I could help you. If you ask nicely, maybe I will".

Cullen had known both Adamaris and Neria since they had entered the Circle Tower. While Adamaris was insecure and shy, Neria was cocky and outgoing; Adamaris' lack of talent and slow-learning was even more contrasted by Neria's quick ascent. Initially, Neria had been the Circle's and the instructors had appreciated Adamaris' quiet nature. Sadly, once Neria started behaving Adamaris' zeal was outshoned. In the end, Adamaris was an ordinary girl. There was really no way for her to overthrow the competition.

And Adamaris didn't cling to any illusion. She had only her pride. "Not even in a million years, Surana" Adamaris replied, harshly, hiding her brown and watery eyes into the nearest book. As if that was some kind of signal, the whole room of students resumed their previous activities; Surana sighed theatrically, shook her head and turned towards Cullen flashing him a quick, warm smile. The templar cleared his throat, and noticed how much the shadows had lengthened and how dim the shining light had become: in fact, the windowglass was showing a spectacular sunset.

"Time's up, apprentices. Get back to your chambers" announced Cullen.

As the students were leaving the room, Surana threw him a gentle smile. "I think I left here one my books. May I get it back before leaving, Ser Rutherford?". Cullen simply nodded, looking at her disappear into another section of the huge library.

He waited for every apprentice and mage to leave the outer corridor before closing the library's door. And as soon as he did, he found himself inNeria's embrace. Before any duty-related thought could spoil the moment, his lips searched for and found hers. His hand dropped to her hip. As the elven mage began to whet his lobes, her arms thrown around his neck, Cullen slid his hands down on her backside, lifting her up and making his way towards the nearest table. As he gently set her down, Neria grabbed his chin and looked into his eyes. The smile she offered him, so happy and sweet, so different from her usual mocking smirk, prompted him to hold her tightly and place a soft kiss on her neck.

"I was wondering if you had missed me. Now I know the answer" she whispered into his ear. As sweet as her previous smile had been, her tone was now allusive and saucy.

Cullen sighed into her shoulder. Everytime, he swore to stop it: and everytime, looking at the way the male mages glanced at her, he couldn't bring himself to break up with her. He just couldn't bear to shatter the happiness of her secret smiles... or maybe he didn't want to see her smiling like that at anyone else. He was being self-centered, and he knew it: what kind of future could they share? He opened his mouth, determined to do what was right.

"I wish they didn't drool over you, Neria. I've seen them look at you" he heard himself say instead.

Neria left out a soft, heartly laugh. "I don't think I can help here. Ever since I blossomed into a young woman, men can't help themselves" she replied with a slight note of satisfaction. "And besides, don't you want your girl to be hot?" she added, searching his gaze. A gentle smile on her lips, she softly kissed him. "Don't lose your mind over those pests. You know I'm yours only".

"Do I?" Cullen asked dryly. She dropped her gaze to the floor. Regardless, jealousy kept on talking . "''Cause more than some of them seem to undress you as you walk by. And I heard a couple of those apprentices speaking about your … competence.".

Neria winced. In that moment, she was no more the arrogant, cruel, perfect apprentice: she was just a girl like any other, filled with heartache.

That sad look made Cullen cup her hands together, and kiss them softly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I've been here only for three years, and you've been honest enough to tell me about your past" he whispered. And when that smile was back on her lips, he felt better. Forgiven.

"You know I'd be ready to show you my... competence. Just say the word. I've been waiting for six months" she purred. And as she spoke, she moved her hands on his waist. For a moment, Cullen even let her: there was something in her eyes, in the way she moved and in her smiles which prevented him from stopping this madness. A mage and a templar? It couldn't happen. It couldn't end well. Moreover, despite being as captivated as he was, he wasn't sure he could trust her: could the sweet, loving girl keeping him forbidden company be the same ruthless, insufferable harpy ready to mock her weaker mage companions? But as Neria's hands slipped under his armor and unfastened his belt, as she sotfly bit his neck, he almost forgot any rational objection. Then it came to his mind.

"No. I don't want to distract you the night before your Harrowing" he forced himself to say, quickly, moving away from her. It took him a couple of attempts to fasten his belt, and he did so without looking at the mage.

He would have expected some complaint, or at least an angry look. To his surprise, none of that happened: Neria was staring thoughtfully at the floor. She looked more serious than he has ever seen her. Once again, Cullen wondered who Neria Surana really was: how could she act like life was a play she starred in, and now display such a severe look?

"I... need to talk to you. About my Harrowing" she finally said in a faint whisper.

Cullen sighed, covering his face with one hand. "We already talked about it, Neria. You know very well that I have to perform my duty. But I'm sure everything will go smoothly: you're far too talented for me to need to..."The templar broke off the sentence. He couldn't even bear himself to say it. What would he do if...

Suddenly, Neria was in front of him, her face so near to his that he could see the mottled gold in her eyes. Without a word, she grabbed his chin and gave him the most passionate kiss he'd ever received. He could only give in and reciprocate, pulling her so near enough to make her gasp, and for their teeth to collide.

Breathless as her, he laid his forehead on her nose. And that's when she spoke.

"Leave the Tower with me, my love. If I go through with the Harrowing, they'll use my blood to track me down and I'll never be free. I'll be caged again, and this time for good." As if his astonished silence encouraged her, she continued "if we don't leave now, we'll never be together. You must be aware of that, you're a templar!"

"Are you fucking insane?" he finally managed to fizzle. He stumbled back, away from her and her touch.

"If you think I would agree to such a folly, you have no idea who I am".

Stunned and hurt, Neria remained silent. Her dismayed expression answered in her place.

"I won't flee from my duty. I wouldn't for anyone, and I won't do it for you. I don't even know who you really are, mage!". He spat the last word like the worst insult. "For the apprentices you're an insufferable harpy, and one moment later you smile at me like I was your sun and your moon and you were an innocent little girl. All the time you act like your life was nothing more than a stage, then you get all serious and composed. I won't be your ticket for freedom. You're a mage, and this is where you belong."

Maybe, if she had crumbled over the weight of those accusation he could have become her accomplice. If she has showed suffering, he would have believed in her love. Instead, she kept on looking away, her lips tightened and her hands gripped so tightly on the edge of the table that they were trembling.

"Are you going to report this conversation? And I guess you want your amulet back, too" she asked, lamely.

Cullen turned his back on her. "Let's just forget about everything. Now go, Surana". He pointed at the library's door.

Without another word, she walked away. When she passed beside him before reaching the door, he smelled her lovely scent of orchid and fern for the last time.

§§

First Enchanter Irving was looking out the window. Neria Surana and the Grey Warden Duncan's figure were getting farther and farther, along with Kelter's boat.

"Are you sure it was a good idea, Irving?" asked Knight-Commander Greagoir. "The girl is not exactly the most unselfish, docile and prone to sacrifice mage"

"She worked for you, didn't she? She lured her friend Jowan into a trap. That seems obedience to me" replied Irving, without looking away. "Besides, she's extremely talented. I'm sure the Grey Wardens will make good use of her."

"For me. Right" Greagoir commented, sharply. "Say what you will. I just hope she won't go around making doe eyes to templars and mages alike instead of stopping the Blight". He reluctantly added "I have to admit it. She helped us framing the mage and his Chantry lover."

The Knight-Commander moved side to side with the First Enchanter. "I can't figure her out, and that troubles me".

—

So, thank you to whoever has reached the end of this first chapter!

That's the story of one of the Origins characters I played. I loved this Surana so I decided to give her life through writing.

I ask just one tiny favour: English is not my mother language, so please be gentle in judging syntax and grammar. Also, you might find American English mixed with British English expressions. That's intentional.

I claim no rights on the song lyrics's fragments used to mark the different section of this chapter. And ot course, characters are Bioware's creation.

Finally, I thank in advance everyone kind enough to leave a review. Don't hesitate to point out whatever you think, even if it's negative. Constructive criticism is part of growing as amateur writers :)