A/N: Originally, I was going to focus on Marahii as she has been running about my mind for quite some time. Yet I found Amell's personality and backstory developing in my mind and well... I sort of fell in love while drafting/debating his character development over time for later chapters. (Not to say I'll refrain from tearing it all down and re-writing if I'm so inclined.) But I'm leaning towards leaving Marahii's background a mystery for now...
Sorry! I'm just a tad evil, let's face it.

Green: The Colour of my Robes. The Venom in my Heart.

"Either you have an enviable memory, or a pitiable life, to know nothing of regret."
- Sten

"Daylen Amell, you are hereby summoned to the First-Enchanter's office within the hour. No delays." The woman before him hummed out the memorized notation in that eery, monotone voice shared by all tranquil.

"Look, I've had a long night and -"

"The First-Enchanter was adamant this summons be responded to immediately. I was to deliver this message. I have. Please proceed to the 3rd floor. His office is in the West-Wing Ser Amell."

"Obviously, I know where his office is, Lynn. I've been there hun-"

"My message has been completed. Thank you." With a curt nod and a robotic step that sent a shiver down his spine, the tranquil abruptly turned and proceeded through the dormitory to deliver another message, her chilling voice echoing through the corridor.

Belatedly, Daylen pondered his own sleep-addled stupidity at arguing with a tranquil. Gripping his head and emitting a low moan, he slipped on the leather sandals Jowan had gifted him for his 12th birthday and proceeded to Irving's office. Why have I been summoned this early anyhow? I passed my harrowing a week ago, yet thanks to that bitch rolling in last year, it's been made clear to me that due to her supposedly awe-inspiring Harrowing and growing skills, she is receiving a room in the mage quarters while I am tossed on the back-burner, waiting like some paltry herbalist who barely survived to mage-hood for a meager room on the upper floors. Anger and jealousy bubbled through his veins as he turned along the curved stairwell, only for another wave of nausea to hit him like an anvil. Also, note to self, kill Harold for slipping dwarven brewed ale in my celebratory beer. Then again, it was probably laced with pity as well given the fact that"The Shining-Pupil" had fallen from grace, only to be replaced by that painted-shrew of an elf as the First-Enchanter's pet. Maker's ass this hangover is only fueling my gall and now I sound like a spoiled brat. Blasted rumour-mill.

Arriving pale and slightly green, he paused at the heavy oak door that barred the hallway from Irving's private study. The runes lining the barrier had been left inactive in The First-Enchanter's haste, allowing raised voices to drift from within. Both male yet unidentifiable behind the thick, wooden door the private argument reached Daylen's ears.

"Highly unusual! She hasn't even -"

"Obviously, you need to keep a closer..."
"Absolutely not! You are a misguided fool to underestimate the seriousness of the situation."

"First Enchanter your first summons of the day has arrived." The monotone voice of Owain echoed throughout the chamber, ringing like a chantry bell in a mausoleum causing Daylen to wince and curse himself. Another aspect of the tranquil that creeped him out – their inexplicable ability to notice the slightest change in atmosphere.

Abruptly the heavy door was swung open, revealing the purple-blotched face of Knight Commander Greagoir. Whose scowl only deepened at the sight of Amell looking very much like a naughty child hiding cookies behind his back. That said, his presence apparently wasn't deemed important enough for him to refrain from swiveling back in the direction of Irving and hissing what sounded like a threat towards The First-Enchanter. "Do not think this discussion is over Irving. I have had enough of this loose rein and expect your Maker-given blessing by day's end to act immediately in regards to this threat!" Shoving Daylen aside, he stalked down the hall immediately drawing salutes from the Templar patrol as they meandered into the corridor and were nearly bowled over by their Commander's anger-driven pace.

"Come in, Daylen" A hoarse voice hinting at long, drawn out arguments beckoned him inside.

Shutting the door behind him, a faint pulse of magical energy breezed by alerting Daylen that the runes had been activated to some silent command.

"First-Enchanter, good morning. I must say this meeting is unexpected as I was under the impression the Warden Commander wasn't arriving for another week's time."

"Duncan of The Grey arrived last night actually." Irving noted casually before waving a dismissive hand and proceeding without the slightest indication he had noticed the taught expression leaping across his recently-graduated student's face nor the fists clenched at his sides. "Anyhow, I had Marai.. Marrr.. Maker that girl's name is difficult to pronounce show him to his guest quarters. Apparently that raid of darkspawn is turning into a blight or something so he arrived early and rather worn. Regardless lad, that is not the reason I called you here."

Daylen attempted to rein in his irate expression and calm his voice before Irving could glimpse at his disheveled, and openly hostile glare – only to begin shaking with barely contained anger. After an awkward pause, he seemed to regain some modicum of control and managed to form coherent words. "I was under the impression you had spoken to the order on my behalf prior to my Harrowing and recommend me as the new mage-recruit the wardens sought out." Registering his voice had become a dangerous hiss yet ignoring the tone due to the egregious nature of this revelation he continued his protest. "In fact, I have been prepping for this opportunity for nearly three years. Meanwhile, that unharrowed bitch arrives to -"

"Enough!" The First-Enchanter's voice fell like a hammer, cutting off the anti-Marahii diatribe he had heard one to many times before. "First, as I am certain you know given the fact gossip spreads faster than wildfire in this tower, Miss Mar- Marry...Marahii passed her trial yesterday afternoon and is now a fully fledged mage. You will address her with the respect owed to our fellow colleagues." The calm, level stare the old man shot at him only fueled his outrage. "Second, I promised to recommend you. And I did just that. Your exemplary skills, studies, and political machinations of circle politics speak for themselves. All of which were forwarded on the transcript I sent months before you completed your Harrowing and you know it. I won't lie, Duncan was … intrigued by our newest transfer and her record-breaking completion of The Harrowing but my opinion has not swayed Daylen, the wardens would be a fool to pass you over. That said, acting like a petulant child is hardly the way to prove your abilities to The Warden Commander. Not to mention the fact you were too inebriated to heed last night's summons." Irving added gruffly while slumping in his chair, rubbing his temples as he leaned forward and closed his eyes. For the first time, Daylen noticed the deep circles encasing his mentor's features sending a stab of guilt through his gut. And another wave of nausea... great.

"I summoned you here to address a delicate matter." The First-Enchanter's voice, lowered to a harsh whisper, barely registered. "It's... Jowan."

"So, Marahii is playing tour guide to The Warden Commander no doubt impressing him with her record time in the fade, and you call me here to ride-herd Jowan over one of his maker-be-damned pranks?!" His throbbing head and nausea throttled against the outrage and humiliations – both old and new - that he endured to secure both the First-Enchanter's and Knight Commander's letters of recommendation. Years of work, research, and sleepless nights danced across his vision – this was his ticket to freedom. He earned this. He spent three years running every demeaning templar errand Greagoir dreamed up, suffered the "templar-poodle" insults thrown in his face by those he once called friends. Three years of laboring like no other in the library, leaving his lovely Ann dejected and lonely with an empty promise of 'next time I'll make this up to you.' They had worked so hard to evade the templars' notice of their blossoming relationship and she trotted off with some enchanter, leaving him miserable and alone with his books and unreachable dreams of freedom. Even that bumbling puppy best-friend of his had supposedly snagged a girl...And that elf rides in on a whim and suddenly...

Some of his thoughts must have translated to Irving, as the old wheeze-bag was now glaring at him with a calculating look. "This is not about a harmless prank. Greagoir has eye-witness testimony stating that Jowan has been practicing blood magic."

Wait what?!

"First Enchanter, that's insane."

"It isn't."

"Well, if you prefer the synonym 'ludicrous' I have no qualms indulging you and your verbal fetishes."

"Daylen this is serious!"

"I beg to differ Ser. This is darkly humorous, possibly the stupidest scrap of fantastical gossip I've heard all year, but serious, no, no I think not." Daylen finished with a snort.

"Young man, I apologize for what I am about to say. However, it seems you need a good dose of reality both about Jowan and your chances at being recruited into the Warden Order."

Daylen's blood felt as if it momentarily froze in a magically-infused panic before Irving wheezed on. "Jowan is scheduled to undergo the rite of tranquility. However harsh the nature of his fate, in my opinion it is not entirely due to his own youthful folly. He has been gallivanting about with a chantry initiate, who has not only broken her vows but betrayed the circle by leaking confidential information to Jowan in order to aid him in fleeing the circle. When or how I do not know." With a slam of his fist Irving's eyes grew hard and focused, his features lost all previous softness as he glared at some invisible foe, vengeful hate twisted the old scholar's features so viciously that Daylen unwittingly took a step back in shock. "And I will not allow her to go unpunished while Jowan is stripped of not only his magic but emotion. I will not!" The man finished with a hiss, before resuming his previously slumped posture. Daylen too stunned by the venom in his mentor's voice, remained silent.

When Irving met his gaze once more, the kindly professor's eyes had regained their soft, studious nature as they bore into him. "I am sorry lad. But unless Duncan decides to forgo historical warden precedents and recruits two mages into the order, I am pained to say that he seems to be leaning towards Marahii. Yet, if you aid me in gaining proof that Greagoir's precious initiate is complicit in whatever nonsense Jowan is plotting, I will ship you from the circle to join the King's army and guarantee you are moved to the Senior Mages quarters upon your return. With his initiate shamed, Greagoir will be powerless to deny my request." Rising from his chair, the elderly enchanter gently escorted Daylen to his office door. "Think on it lad. Return before the evening meal is served with your decision." With a brief pat on the back and click of the door, Daylen found himself frozen like a stone pillar in the corridor. Before he could take a single step, or even process this unfathomable development, Jowan appeared out of thin air as if summoned by the Divine herself and tugged his hand into a vacant office with the eagerness of a young child. After twenty long minutes of listening to his friend gush about the mental resistance spell that elven bitch had taught him when he plead for information regarding The Harrowing, Daylen's headache had blossomed into a full-blown migraine. And no, Jowan just didn't know when to shut up.

"She was just there to pack up her things. I never dreamed she'd break a sacred rule of the circle for an apprentice like me! Maybe she was grateful for a friendly face when she woke up barfing from the lyrium side-effects. Damn that stuff really hits elves harder than humans huh?"

Jowan was pacing back and forth waving his hands over his head in a childish gesture Daylen imagined was his version of punctuating a sentence.

Just shut up. He raised his fingers to his throbbing temples in a vain attempt to alleviate the pounding threatening to take over his consciousness.

"Anyway, I helped hold her hair back and carried a few boxes to her new quarters... oh! You know she's really rather pretty even if she's quieter and spookier than a tranquil half the time with that sixth sense of hers. Soooooooo.. once we began unpacking her stuff in her new room, which is soooooooo huge by the way, she helped me practice a dispelling chant. Oh Daylen, I truly believed all night that I would pass my Harrowing!"

Andraste's dimpled butt cheeks, man shut-up. The fresh sneers of apprentices mocking him for continuing to share quarters with children and pimple-popping adolescents danced behind his closed eyelids, thrumming to the beat of blood pulsing through his head shattering brain cells in his imagination's eye; while memories of Dwarven ale wormed through his intestines.

Jowan had apparently ceased his inane praise of Marahii, only to turn wide-eyed and hopeful to his best-friend since child-hood with a question on the tip of his tongue. "I asked her to help Lilly and I escape when I discovered the templars intend to make me tranquil this morning, but she said she couldn't help until tomorrow since The First-Enchanter wrangled her into baby-sitting some warden. And I'm so terrified Daylen! What if tomorrow is too late?!"

Wait, he... asked her first? Jowan?! Of all people...

And that... that painted shrew actually had the gall to complain about the blatant favoritism of The Warden Commander?! An opportunity he sacrificed everything for?!

For a split-second, the weary, bitter face of Irving flashed before him. If I do this, will I be the high and mighty enchanter frightening his fellow mages with unhealed scars of betrayal or missed opportunities one day? The professor's venomous tone still echoed in his ears.
But then... that bitch... she strides in here, becomes the lovable heart of the circle, blinds his mentor with her so-called talent, steals his opportunities right out from under him, and now even Jowan...

His mind's cogs momentarily overcame the prolonged beating of a hangover and a plan so delicious he nearly drooled snapped to the forefront of his mind. She betrayed the circle by revealing the nature of the Harrowing to an apprentice. And not only failed to report Jowan's foolish plot to escape but his tryst with an initiate! In a horrible and beautiful moment, he knew his decision.

Yes. He'll betray his life-long friend.
But he'll also take that bitch down with Jowan. He won't suffer alone.

Let's see how she likes it when he's being ferried across Lake Calenhad with Duncan, while she's slapped in chains next to Jowan.

"Of course I'll help you Jowan. I just need that Rod of Fire she gave you two and the permission slip she acquired."

How do you like the first two introductions? I wound up enjoying writing Amell far more than I originally thought. . . . Dare I permit this belly-aching boy narrate the next chapter?
Considering I wrote the first 3 chapters in a single day, well, I already typed it up O_o. Anyhow, if you stumble on this little tale of mine, please leave feedback and know I listen! And I always reply to feedback and enable anonymous comments. So, as I introduce characters feel free to voice opinions, who you want to see more of, who you hope is stabbed in the face or chokes on darkspawn blood. . . .etc.