A/N: This is the sequel to 'The Mage & the Mother', post DA:A - but it can be read as a stand alone story too. I hope you enjoy it! I always look forward to hearing comments/criticism/ideas from readers!

The third story in the trilogy of a bookish elven mage, raised in the seclusion of the Tower of Magi and exposed to the world. She grew to be a soldier, a commander, and leader through necessity in order to save the world from the Blight and live up to the moniker bestowed upon her - Commander of the Grey, the Hero of Ferelden.

With the Mother dead and Alistair returned from Weisshaupt, Neria Surana settle into an amicable routine at the Vigil's keep with their adopted children, Fae and Calevar. The duties of leading the arling weigh heavy, and word comes from the Circle that the decree of their independence given by Queen Anora is unheeded by the Chantry. Given the taste of freedom, it seems there is much more the world could offer - and more she could give. But do expectations ever change?

Meanwhile, within the Tower, Cullen still struggles to come to terms with his torture during the Blight and fulfill his duties.

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SPOILER WARNING: Dragon Age:Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening, as well as the two books by Gaider, The Calling and The Stolen Throne. I use information from all of them in my stories.

Dragon Age is the property of Bioware, I make no profit from this, I just love the universe(s) they and their writers think up, and can't help but get sucked into them in my imagination!

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"Though the trials I face are many,

I shall remain strong. I shall wade against the river's current.

I shall sustain.

What ember is granted shall be carried to the hearth.

Though the weight of the sins lie heavy upon me,

I shall bear the load. I shall turn my face to the dawn.

I shall shine.

A beacon for His Light in the darkest places."

- Trials 1:12-13

Kneeling before the altar, Cullen swayed with the tempered meter of words that murmured on his lips. His hands had been clasped together for some untold time, his prayers creating a space all their own, devoid of its passage. It was his harbour and solace, speaking for rote the words he memorized years ago. A time when the Maker's light was pure and the path to His side unblemished.

He became aware of a presence behind him, and finishing the verse, Cullen took the silver sword of mercy that hung about his neck and pressed it to his lips. He dipped his head to the Knight-Commander as he turned around.

"Commander," Cullen quietly said, "Did you require my assistance?"

"No," Greagoir replied, motioning through the chapel. Cullen followed him away from the initiates that lit the candles for the coming evening service. They would follow back to back, allowing all of the templars to attend without shirking their watchful duties. "Merely to speak. I apologize for disturbing your meditations."

Cullen moved with care, limbs stiff from kneeling in his armour. The pain reminded him - and if he were to ever grow beyond it, he could not ignore it. "I am but a servant, ser. The Maker's will be done."

"Yes," Greagoir said, lips in a dubious line. They continued into the hall, walking in silence past a mage apprentice that hurried in the opposite direction. "I had wished to see how your recovery is progressing. It has been some time since we spoke of... what happened during the Blight."

"You need not worry, ser. My faith is stronger than it ever was," Cullen followed him rigidly, watching with fervour any room they passed. "It has been my haven."

"Your piety has never been in question, Cullen," Greagoir replied. "I have never known you to refuse any assignment if you were able-bodied to complete it. "

"Thank you, ser."

The Knight-Commander led him across the tower to his rooms. He was the only templar within the Circle allowed privacy - much like the mages, they filled shared dorms and followed a rigid schedule. "Ser Teynen has expressed concern."

Cullen 's expression blanked as he looked down, hands clasping air at his sides. Teynen was one of the men in his dormitory.

"Cullen, if you are having difficulties sleeping - if you are encountering unnatural beings in the Fade -"

"They are much improved, I assure you," he hastily said, furrowing his brow. "I suffer but for the memory of our brethren. Though the years pass, their deaths are no less heavy in my mind. I cannot neglect their sacrifice."

"And no one is asking you to," Greagoir impressed, draping his hand over the scroll on his desk. "But you know as well as I they have gone to the Maker's side. They exist without misery and bask within His light. They do not wander, and they are without pain."

"Blessed are the righteous," Cullen recited, relaxing slightly as he looked to his Commander. "I - I know they have found peace, ser. But for their earthly presence, I cannot forget."

"Well enough," the Knight-Commander said, taking up the scroll. "I know you have been cooped up in the Tower for some time, and with the two new initiates needing proper training, I felt that this assignment could be served better by no one. A child is being held in Highever - he has shown signs.

"As you know, their chantry has not yet recovered from its destruction during the Blight. They cannot spare the few templars that maintain a vigil in the town, so I ask that you take Lecia and Jonah. It shouldn't be difficult, but you may observe them and ensure they maintain their vows and act according to the prophet's will."

"Of course, ser," Cullen said.

"Your provisions will be ready by dawn," Greagoir said, and waved his hand. "Dismissed."

"I'm not cut out for this anymore. We need more recruits to do the dirty work," Anders muttered as they trudged up the last hill towards the keep. It was late in the afternoon, and the sun cast cold shadows across the wintery land. The snow crunched underfoot, a fresh layer on the beaten, rutted road.

Neria just grinned, "Well, I have been thinking of going to the Circle to recruit. It's hard with just you to put up with."

The third Warden with them chuckled, pulling up from his scarf, "Him? What about the rest of us who's got to put up with the likes of you mages?"

"Are you not wanting enough for a bed, Anthony?" the Warden-Commander replied, peering at him. "I'm sure I could think of somewhere else to send you - wasn't there a Dalish clan near the Wending Wood?"

A call went up ahead as the sentries spotted them, and they slowed their pace as the massive doors to the Vigil ground and groaned open.

Anthony muttered something under his breath and Anders started laughing.

"Just go," she said, shifting the satchel across her chest as the gates opened. She snagged Anders' arm as they walked, "Thank you again. I couldn't have done this without you."

Sighing as he slowed to her pace through the yard, Anders said, "I still don't know, Neria. How do you know what it will do - if it will even work?"
"I trust her writing," Neria replied, "She saved Alistair's life when he was in Weisshaupt. And I trust my own research otherwise."

"I know, I know," Anders said, and they both waved to some of the soldiers that passed. The markets had closed for the day, as they oft did in winter. "It's just that he'll kill me if anything happens to you. I've made it this whole way without being killed by a templar, can't I make it just a little bit more?"

"Trust me," she said, her voice wavering, "He won't know. Not if I can help it."

Anders muttered something under his breath as they went up the stairs into the keep. Through the doors, he paused and said, "A firm maybe. Let me read your transcription again."

Neria hugged him and kissed his cold cheek, "Thank you, Anders. Now go eat and warm. You've earned it."

Ser Pounce-a-Lot leapt down from one of the bookcases and sat down with an irritated meow.

"Yes, of course you've missed me!" preened Anders, tugging off his hat to scoop up the cat in his arms, "I am so sorry my sweetness, I cannot bear to leave you."

Neria pulled off her outer layers as Varel approached, and the little girl with him broke away, running stiffly away from the fire.

"Mamae, mamae!"

Dropping her heavy coat and bags, Neria sank to her knees to catch the toddler, smiling brightly as she kissed Fae with cold lips, "Hello sweet pea. Oh, I've missed you so much."

"It is good to see you return, Commander," Varel said with a smile as Neria picked up the girl.

"Have you been good for Varel while I was gone?" Neria asked as Fae squeezed around her neck.

Fae nodded quickly, pulling at the edges of the tabard that covered her mother's armour, "Cold."

"I know, it's very cold out! Let me get out of this," she put Fae down, and the girl fell on her pack to pull open the straps, "No no - no touch. Mage things."

The little girl's reply seemed naught much but gibberish, but both her mother and the seneschal seemed to understand, and Neria replied, "Yes, but you have to be good. Where's Alistair?"

"I believe he's in the yard with Calevar," Varel replied.

Neria grinned at Fae, taking the bag from her as the girl picked it up, "Thank you for the help. Would you take my coat?"

"Uh huh," Fae replied, nodding as she picked up the large mantle, unable to see as she walked. Neria put a hand on her shoulder to direct her as they walked.

"It still makes me uncomfortable that he's already learned so much," Neria said as she smiled at the Captain, unwinding her scarf.

"He is the right age," Varel reassured, catching Fae as she stumbled. He took the mantle from her, much to her protest. "The young adolescent he is, he must know how to fight."

"As only Fereldens know how," Neria said, grinning as she smiled down at Fae and took the girl's hand. "What about you? Have you been helping Varel?"

Fae nodded, a mish of words together as she tugged on Neria's hand and hurried with them. Something about smell and boys.

"Ohh," Neria knowingly said, before asking, "Oghren?"

Nodding, Fae pulled away and flexed her hands at Varel, "Up, up."

Varel knelt down to gather her up, tucking his arm under so she could lean on his shoulder and promptly put a thumb in her mouth.

"She hasn't been too much trouble, I hope?"

"Of course not, Commander," Varel replied, hesitating as he drew breath to say, "But I worry I cannot devote enough time to hers and Calevar's education and needs."

"Hmm," she quietly mused. "Most other children... are in the fields, yes?"

"Or working in some other manner with their families, yes," Varel said as they hesitated by the door. "Nobles often hire a tutor for their children. As I have mentioned before."

Neria's cheeks lightly coloured and she glanced down as she dubiously said, "Yes, of course. Nathaniel said something to that effect too."

"The Howe children had a number of individuals that saw to their needs," Varel said. When Fae struggled to reach for Neria at the door, he said, "It is too cold, little miss. How about you show me your dance again?"

The training quarters were never warm in the winter - they were simply too large. Neria crossed her arms as she walked in, tilting her head as she watched the pair. They hadn't noticed her yet. Brant pushed off the wall to walk towards her.

"Again," Alistair said, grinning. "Don't hesitate."

The young elf exhaled, breath visible in the air as he twirled the sword again. Alistair deflected Calevar's blows, stepping backward to take them before they finished the form.

"Better. But you're still not keeping your arm strong. If that got hit, you'd lose your blade or strain a muscle."

"I'm tired," Calevar said, and he did a double take to Neria, blushing sheepishly, "Madre."

"Enjoying your swordplay?" she asked.

Glancing cautiously between them, Calevar replied, "I'm getting stronger. It's fun."

"Don't worry so much," Brant interjected with a grin, "I don't think she could stop us from training you."

"What would they say if the Blight Wardens couldn't even teach their own to carry a sword," Alistair said, mopping a hand through Calevar's hair. "Again tomorrow. Try the meditations I spoke of, they will help."

"Yes, ser," Calevar said, before sheathing the sword and going to receive Neria's kiss. His head was sweaty, and his expression relaxed, "The darkspawn are dead?"

"They are," she said, resting a hand on the strap of her satchel. "Part of the entryway collapsed. Sometimes I think it's better - I wonder if I should get Dworkin to collapse the rest."

"Not sure the dwarves would be too happy with you," Alistair said, hanging his practise shield up.

"Yes, because I know you care so much about what the dwarves think," Brant said. "I'm going to find supper."

"We'll catch up," Alistair said, shaking the bottom of his shirt. He smiled and leant over Neria, kissing her cheek and lips. "I'm glad you're alright."

"I am now," she said lightly. "Come help me out of this? Go eat."

Calevar wrinkled his nose and shifted his feet, before running across the room to catch up with Brant.

"He's very quick," Alistair said, running his hand up the back of her neck as they nuzzled noses. "I think he learns more from Brant."

"Or Nathaniel. Have you heard from him?" Neria nodded towards the door, and they spoke as they walked down the hall.

"A letter came from the South Hills shortly after you left. He has another recruit, and should be in Denerim by the month's end. Makes three."

"Mm," she quietly said. In their room, Alistair stripped her of her armour and clothes. Running his hands over her poulticed ribs, she said, "An ogre."

"I remember when seeing you bandaged was business as usual," he quietly said, before kissing just beneath her breast band and drawing a shivered twitch. "I don't like it."

"That's good," she said with a grin, heating the bowl of water on her dresser. Taking the cloth, she wiped away some of the worse grime. "It's not bad. Don't worry. Anders is a good healer."

"Yes, I am sure he was marvellously attentive," Alistair half-pouted, unwinding the restrictive band.

Neria grinned and caught his stubbly cheek, "You're very cute. I missed that."

"Good," he replied, kissing her again. "Don't leave so soon. I was thinking we should go to Denerim. Meet Nathaniel half way. I'm sure the children would love it, Calevar is a lot quieter when you're gone."

"I know," she sighed, resting her forehead on his chest. Her rubbed around her shoulders with his wide, calloused hands. "Maybe take them to Amaranthine before we do. I have to go into the Blackmarsh with Anders."

Alistair furrowed his brow, "Why do you two keep running off?"

"Running off?" Neria said with a slight laugh, looking back as she gingerly pulled on a chemise, "Excuse me for going to dispatch some darkspawn. I thought that's what Wardens did."

"Then let me come with you," he said, "Or Brant. Or Sigrun."

"With Nathaniel gone, I need you all here," Neria said, throwing a crocheted shawl around her shoulders. "Someone needs to protect the Vigil. She is not yet rebuilt. And Fae needs one of us. At least until I find a tutor or nurse. Maybe you could look for one in Amaranthine?"

"I know, I know," he said with a sigh, expression clearing as he folded his arms around her. Kissing his hair, he murmured, "What's so exciting about the marsh anyway."

"You know there is talk of rebuilding the hamlet there," she said, closing her eyes and leaning into him. He was warm and smelled of sweat. "We want to make sure all traces of the demons are gone, and that the Veil is unthreatened before they do."

Alistair grumbled into her hair, and Neria smiled as he dipped to kiss her jaw.

"Let's go eat, then you can grumble all you like," she softly said.

"Alright," he pouted, "I will."

The little boy sniffled softly as he was forced to sit by the campfire. His face was puffy, and he tried to wipe the snot away with his shoulder, shivering in the cold.

"Here, eat this," Lecia said, smiling at the boy as she set her helm aside. Nearby, her fellow templars set up their camp for the night. "It will warm you right up."

"I dun wanna," he replied, shaking his head as he said, "I want to go home!"

"We are taking you home," Lecia replied, holding the cup still near his mouth. "It's your new home where you'll learn a great deal, and learn to control your magic so it never harms anyone again."

"I din't mean to hurt anyone, I swear," the boy cried, shaking his head as he tried to make himself smaller, "Tha's whats I told the constable."

"We know you didn't mean to," Lucia said, touching the boy's shoulder as Cullen glanced her way. "That is why you're going to learn, so you don't hurt anyone. Then things won't happen without you knowing about it. You'll be safer, and so will everyone else."

"Magic exist to serve man," Cullen said, adding more wood to the fire before squatting by it for warmth.

"Yes ser," the boy said, lips trembling, "I was good, I went to the chantry service whenever I could."

"Then you should know you are a mage. And you know where mages belong."

"Drink," Lucia said again, and the boy put his lips against the cup. She poured the tea and he drank it all. "Good, good. If you keep up being good, we don't need to restrain you."

The boy puckered in his lips, sucking off the flavour from them as he nodded, eyes down, "I'm so scared, ser. I've never been outside Highever."

"Then think of it as an adventure! Think of all you'll get to see on the way."

The boy's face wavered as the drink took, and he paled, slouching, "I - I don't feel right."

"We'll be here for the night. Rest. We leave before sunrise," Cullen flatly said, glancing to where Johan knelt in prayer.

"Please," the boy cried again, new tears welling in his eyes. His voice cracked as he pleaded, "I won't ever do such things again, I swear to the Maker. I want mum!"

"Go to sleep," Cullen firmly said, "And be glad you are given this opportunity."

"Come," Lucia said, and she helped the boy up into one of the tents, though his snuffled cries could be heard anyway. When she emerged, she pulled her cloak about her frigid armour.

"You are too soft, initiate," Cullen said, still knelt by the fire. His cloak concealed all but his face. "You give them too much leeway, and it will return to you one day. When the mages take advantage of your weakness."

"I - I am sorry, ser," Lucia meekly replied, though her shoulders stay firm, "I do not feel right giving magebane to children."

"Then you will grow accustomed to it. Remember always that they are the ones who brought sin upon the world - who destroyed the Golden City. Who rise in the Blight to obliterate the world we know. I should not have to remind you." Cullen looked at her as she knelt nearby, "Every mage begins as a child. They look innocent, but they harbour the key to deceit and suffering, each one a gateway to the demons beyond - each one a trap to make the rest of us suffer."

"Yes ser, I know."

"Then rest. I will wake you for second watch." Cullen rose and touched Johan's shoulder, and the man inclined his head, "And you. We will make it back to the Tower late in the day tomorrow."