Kirkwall:

"If you're born with magic they hear about it, they search your little ratspit village and they find you. They tell your parents they'll be thrown in prison if they ever ask about you, stripped of their rights in the eyes of the maker."- Anders

A little ratspit village, many years earlier:

It was a warm, sunny day, with a gentle breeze sifting through the grass and the soft sound of rustling leaves drifting through the air. It would have been perfect, a day to sit down with her family and bask in the sunlight without a care in the world.

But doing that wasn't possible, wouldn't ever be possible again.

Because her baby was in chains.

In chains as they, a small frail child, were dragged away shaking by towering figures with swords and suits of armour.

A child who said nothing, but was violently shaking as if it were oh so terribly cold.

"Wait!" Their mother cried, running back out of the house carrying something red and orange.

"Wait!" Perhaps because of the shock of her running right through them, the Templars did not bar her from reaching the baby clasped in iron, stop her as she crouched down to look them in the eyes, doing her best to put on an encouraging smile and not let a sob escape her lips.

She wouldn't cry. She'd promised herself she wouldn't, she had to be strong for them.

"Don't forget this!" She pressed the object into their bound hands. "Something to- to keep you safe at night, remember? Even if- even if mommy can't be there for a little while, this'll keep all the bad mages and demons far, far away until I can come and-" It seemed her time had run out, as had the Templars patience, as metal arms closed around her and she was dragged up and manually pulled away.

"You're interfering with Templar business, if you persist-"

Business?! This was her child! They weren't just some business!

Another Templar was moving towards their business and ripped the pillow out of their hands and seemed about to rip it until-

"That is the symbol of Andraste, destroying it's blasphemy! If you dare, I'll report you to the Chantry myself!" She snarled, staring dead into where she knew their eyes were despite the mask and straining against the Templar still restraining her.

That gave them pause, and they turned over the pillow, examining it closer now and seeing the symbol at last.

With that, there was a grunt, and the pillow given back to the child with an almost mocking degree of care in light of how that actual living child was being treated in comparison.

But that should really come as no surprise, shouldn't it? As while condemning mere babes to a tower said to be teeming with abominations, was no crime in the eyes of the chantry, destroying anything carrying one of their sigils most certainly was, and a serious one at that.

It was still a while before the Templar restraining her finally put her down, apparently deeming at last that either she was too far from the child who'd been getting further and further away to cause a fuss now, or that letting them keep the pillow was enough to placate her.

They were wrong on both counts.

The second she was back on her feet she was sprinting as if her life depended it, and she could feel the looming presence of the man of metal behind her, gaining every moment, the thudding of their heavy armour growing punctuating every single step.

She wasn't going to make it, she wasn't going to get there before he got to her. Desperation clawed at her. She hadn't said all she had to say! Of course, how anyone could ever say everything they want to in a situation like this was beyond her, but there was one thing she needed to get out before it was too late! She had to!

So as she felt the fingertips of the Templars gauntlet barely, just barely brushing against her shoulder, she yelled;

"You won't be alone sweetie! We can write! Tell each other all about what we're missing! That's what the lessons were for, weren't they? Unjumbling all those words together so we can keep in touch no matter what!" The lessons were most certainly not meant for that purpose. Those many hours spent in the weeks leading up to this, pouring over word after word over any literature they could find, laughing whenever Captain decided he wanted attention and lied write on top of whatever they were currently puzzling over, they weren't meant for this.

The words still didn't make much sense for her, still looked wobbly, but she could do it. She could find a way to write for her little-

And then she fell.

Foot caught in a hole hidden by grass.

It was only with her face in the dirt that the Templar, who was not doubt close enough to have easily caught her at the first hint of her stumble, deigned to finally do so, ripping her from the ground like you would a weed.

"If you do that, if you so much as ask about the mage brat then you will be thrown in prison, stripped of your rights in the eyes of the maker, do you hear me?!"

It was then that the tears began to freely fall, unable to be restrained any longer, and then she locked eyes with her baby, who'd heard the words just as well as she.

They shouldn't have had to have heard something like that.

"Do you have no heart?" She wouldn't look at them anymore, she refused, she would give them that measure of respect no longer no matter state they left her in. Instead she kept her eyes pouring over her child, taking in every little detail right down to the freckles, because-

"She's no threat, leave her be. Can hardly help having a mage for a child, happens to the best of us." A harsh snap from another Templar, and the one gripping her let go with a grunt, moving on to join the rest of their group.

-because she knew right then and there that she would not be seeing them again.

And she would not forget, she would never forget her cursed, precious gift from the maker.

Nor, she thought, as a man with a face as steely as one of the Templars masks approached her from behind.

Would she ever forgive her husband for what he did to them.

"Let's go back inside."

She didn't. What mother would? What parent who truly loved their child would?

She stayed there instead, rooted to the spot watching her greatest joy become smaller and smaller as they were moved further and further away. Stayed there, even as tears bleared over her eyes, even as her chest constricted and she couldn't breathe…

…even as the child disappeared entirely in the distance, for the very last time.