A/N: This contains spoilers for my DA whodunit, Murder at Vigil's Keep, so if you're going to read both, I suggest you start with the other story and come back here later.
Chapter 1 - The Beginning
She was the closest thing to a sister he had. When they brought her to the Tower, Morena was ten, a tiny, dark little girl with huge black eyes. He nicknamed her Pixie, and he took her under his wing. At thirteen, Anders knew everything he needed to know to survive. He taught her which templars she could trust, and which to avoid. He showed her all the secret nooks and crannies of the old fortress, places where they met in secret, away from prying eyes.
"Don't let them know we're friends, or they will use it to hurt us. Don't tell the others, they might be spies." Don't, don't, don't. A whole litany of cautions and warnings, and she soaked them all up, staring at him with her bright, clever eyes. She was a quick study, and soon they hatched plans together, keeping each other safe, having each other's back.
She took the blame for his first failed attempt at a fireball, knowing she wouldn't be punished as harshly as an older apprentice. He taught her where to find the forbidden books in the library, those that dealt with ancient magicks and rituals so obscure even the First Enchanter didn't know about them. Together they worked out elaborate escape plans, discussed means to destroy a phylactery, exchanged tips on how to distract the templars' attention. For almost two years, they were inseparable.
Then Callista, who was tall and blonde and already seventeen, showed him what boys and girls could do together, and for a while, he had little time for his friend. He was heady with the discovery of sex, especially when he realized that others found him attractive and that he pretty much had the pick of the other apprentices. Morena seemed unperturbed. He saw her hang around with Jowan and some of the other, younger kids, but she had learned her lesson well and didn't get close to anyone.
A week before she turned fourteen, he looked at her as they left the dining hall after breakfast, and he realized she had changed. Her slim body seemed to have developed exciting curves overnight, and there was something new in her posture, a certain awareness that made his throat go dry. Unfamiliar feelings towards her assailed him, and for once, he was unsure about whether to act on them. When she smiled at him, her head held up high and her lips slightly moist, he blushed and mumbled something incomprehensible, glad to escape into the school room.
Unfortunately he wasn't the only one who had seen the change in her. When he caught a glance of Ser Agravain's face at dinner and saw the single-minded focus with which the Templar was staring at her, an icy feeling spread in his stomach. They all knew about Agravain and his appetite for young girls. He was a handsome, powerfully built man in his late forties, good-looking in a cool, detached way, with his light blond hair and bright blue eyes. It was obvious he liked what he saw, and Anders could only watch in impotent fury as he approached another Templar and offered to take over his nightly watch in the apprentices' wing. He tried to get closer to Morena, to warn her, but when he saw her face he realized she already knew.
None of them was under any illusions as to her chances to avoid Agravain's attentions. They had seen it all before, and they knew it would be madness to report him. Greagoir would turn a blind eye on his favourite's shenanigans, and his word would always trump theirs. Still, Anders couldn't bring himself to stay away. Right after bedtime, he snuck out of his room and waited in front of hers, hidden behind a curtain, until he saw Agravain emerge, a smug smile on his face. As soon as it was safe to do so, he rushed over, knuckles scraping at the door.
"Go away." Her voice sounded calm. Too calm.
"Rena, it's me, Anders." Silence. "Please, Pixie, let me come in."
Another long moment of silence, then he heard her sigh. "All right."
She was sitting on the window sill, wearing only her nightgown. There was a faint bruise on her upper arm, but apart from that, she looked unharmed. But he wasn't fooled. He knew Agravain wouldn't have needed to use force to get what he wanted.
"Morena." He tried to put an arm around her shoulder, to hold her like he had always done when she was hurt, but she shied away.
"Don't-" She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, Anders. I... I just don't want anyone to touch me right now. I..."
"Of course." He sat down at her feet instead, looking up at her pale, beautiful face. Later he would realize that this was the moment when he became hers forever.
"He will pay." Morena didn't sound furious, just composed and determined. When he looked at her questioningly, she smiled, but her eyes were black and hard as onyx. "I will make him pay, and I will make sure this will stop."
He opened his mouth to point out that there was no way, that she would only endanger herself, but the look in her eyes shut him up. Instead, he nodded, and to his surprise, she reached out for him, finally letting him embrace her, hold her close. He softly stroked her back and kissed her hair, but he couldn't get rid of the feeling that it consoled him more than it did her.
Agravain returned on the following evening, and then for several more nights. Anders faithfully kept his watch outside Morena's door, sneaking in afterwards to give her what support he could offer. On the fourth night, the Templar came out with a dark look on his face and he rushed in to find Morena nursing a split lip.
"What in Andraste's-" Morena shushed him before he had finished his exclamation.
"Don't worry, Anders." To his surprise, she was smiling. "Ser Agravain just experienced some... performance issues."
When her meaning sunk in, he took her by the shoulders, almost shaking her. "Are you mad, Rena? This won't help you. He'll only blame it on you."
"Oh, I don't think he will." The expression on her face sent shivers down his spine. "He was angry at first, but now... You see, I tried my best to help him. I even suggested a cure. It's fortunate really that I know so much about potions, don't you think?"
He didn't dare press her further. Six weeks passed, and he had begun to think she had resigned herself to her fate. But then, one night, screams of pain and horror from the Templars' quarters woke them all. Anders was called up together with several other healers, but when they entered the mess room, they reeled in shock at the scene before their eyes. Ser Agravain was writhing naked on the floor in a pool of blood, his eyes unnaturally dilated, a strange, gurgling noise coming from his throat. A bloody dagger was lying next to him on the floor, and he was pressing a blood-soaked towel to his crotch. More blood trailed down from the corners of his mouth.
Ser Cullen was trying to restrain him, covered in blood himself, his face a mask of shock. "Maker's Mercy, he's cut off his own tongue," he was gasping. "And his..."
Morris, the senior healer, took charge immediately. "Some kind of hallucinatory potion, no doubt," he remarked wryly, casting a sleeping spell with a quick twist of his hand. Agravain's body relaxed immediately and his eyes closed. "We can take care of his wounds, of course, make sure he doesn't lose more blood." At a gesture from him, the other healers began to clean and close the wounds. "The effect of the potion will have worn off by the time he's awake, but he will remain mutilated. There's nothing we can do about cut-off body parts, I'm sorry to say."
"But what kind of potion would make a man do this?" Cullen was deathly pale.
Morris shrugged. "There are several that would cause delusions of this kind. Aquae lucidius comes to mind. Its effects are pleasant enough, but if overdosed it usually leads to this kind of ... self-inflicted damage."
"I still don't understand." Cullen seemed dazed. "Why would he take this... Aquae lucidius? Was he poisoned?"
The healer coughed discreetly. "I highly doubt it. The potion is well-known for its... stamina-enhancing effect. I'm afraid he's neither the first nor the last man who has sought help in this matter."
Cullen blushed deeply. "Oh. I see." He turned to face the assembled mages. "I hope I can rely on your discretion in this. I will report to the Knight-Commander immediately. I assume Ser Agravain will be taken away from the Tower as soon as he can be safely transported."
They all nodded, their trained faces showing hardly any emotion, but Anders' mind was racing. Morena. For a moment, he felt very cold.
Over the next few years, they remained close. He was the only one who knew why none of the other templars ever bothered Morena. The only one who noticed how she scratched them accidentally with a clothes pin, or asked them for help in picking up a broken glass. The only one who saw their eyes glaze over for the briefest of moments before they turned away, their attention on anything but her.
Morena spent hours in the library, and even more at Uldred's feet. She had become his star pupil, the one he trusted above all others with the secrets of his research. Watching the entranced expression on the senior enchanter's face, Anders couldn't help but wonder...
But he had his own battles to fight during those years. With every failed attempt at escape, his desperation grew. Morena was always there for him when he returned, ready to pick him up, to help him nurse his wounds, both of body and soul. After his sixth escapade, when he came back, nearly broken from his time spent in solitary confinement, they finally became lovers. He recognized the gesture for what it was, help offered to a friend in need of warmth and solace.
But they had underestimated what it would mean. Both had plenty of experience with other lovers by this time. Uncomplicated, brief trysts were as much part of life in the Tower as casting spells, one of the few pleasures not denied to the mages. But when their bodies joined, something took hold of them that neither could explain. Their eyes met, and they couldn't tear their gaze away from each other, not for a single moment, until they both cried out in ecstasy, their limbs so closely entwined there was hardly any room to move.
"Morena." Anders hardly recognized his own voice as he buried his face in her long black hair and vowed he would never love anyone else the way he loved her. When he looked up at her face, he saw a large tear rolling down her cheek.
"Anders. You're back." Her hand clenched around the folds of his robe, hastily pushed up in the urgency of their encounter.
I'll always come back to you. If anyone could have made him give up on his escape plans, it would have been her. But she didn't ask him to.
When he disappeared again a few months later, and they told her he had died in the attempt to leave the Tower, her face remained calm and collected. No one saw her cry. Ever.
The news of the slaughter in the Tower reached Anders on his way to Denerim. Uldred and all his apprentices were dead, they told him, turned into abominations and killed by Grey Wardens. For a while, his heart beat faster every time he heard someone had survived the massacre, but her name was never mentioned. In the end, he gave up.
Thanks to zevgirl, my trusted beta. You're the best!