Hello everyone!

Yes, I know. It's been ages since I've done a update. I can only apologise and promise that my attentions have finally been drawn back to this wonderful site.

Thank you to everyone for the wonderful reviews, it's an absolute joy and privilege to be so lucky to have you guys reading my little story.

Special thanks to Rose tinted contact lenses who didn't bat an eyelid when I came out of the blue three months since our last discussion and did a brilliant beta.

So let's get back to the fun shall we? :)


The Senior Mage quarters were crawling with bubbling beings of magma, which bellowed and snarled at Kayden as he swished his blade in wide, powerful strikes. The creatures, despite their obvious power, did not seem to hold much in the way of "tactics", preferring to scratch and blaze at his risen shield than attempt to flank him or wait for a break in his defences.

"DIE, MORTAL!" the last of his crackling attackers yelled, and a burst of white hot flame plumed towards him like a rabid charging mabari.

The flame ploughed into his shield, and the heat of the flame caused him to drop his only source of protection with a grunt of pain. He backed away from the demon, promptly tripping over one of the undead corpses he had cleanly beheaded earlier. He fell on his back with a clang as his ragged iron armour met stone floor.

The demon advanced on him, crackling and shuddering with laughter. Kayden started backing away frantically, with Oathkeeper far out of his reach.

"DIE!" the demon spat.

"Damn," Kayden replied simply, clutching his wounded arm.

Then the personification of anger and malice turned to ice, its once-bubbling lava-like skin frozen into a rather statuesque - if twisted- form. Kayden took his chance and threw himself to the right, grabbing his sword with his unmarked arm and plunging it into the icy statue, which promptly shattered into a thousand sparkling, translucent shards.

"Rage demons are never much for conversation," his rescuer noted idly, eyeing the icy remains with contempt and grinning at him. "Must have been bullied as a child or something."

"I was not aware demons had children," Kayden pointed out, looking up at Layla with his dark eyes.

"Oh, just imagine a rage demon going through puberty!" Layla laughed, dancing over the iced remains.

The two of them were alone in the echoing wide space of the senior mage quarters. Wynne had warned that a group of demons could be skulking in here. Kayden had volunteered to quickly scout the area, and to his surprise - and Wynne's fierce glare - Layla had cheerfully offered to come as well.

"It seems I owe you my life, my lady."

The brunette mage turned her attention back to him, a spicy, mischievous smile spreading over her lips at his dignified admittance. Then to his surprise, she grabbed him by the arm and tugged him over.

"Wha - ?" he began, but Layla "shushed" him and started delicately stroking the raw flesh of his arm where the demon's spell had scorched him. A faint blue light started to flow from her fingertips like rainwater, cooling the raw burning flesh.

"I thought only Senior Enchanter Wynne was learned in healing magic?" he asked, hoping to distract himself from her insistent, gentle touch.

Layla snorted gently, her green emerald eyes dancing. "I've always found the Creation school so very, very dull. No wonder Wynne is so good at it. Personally, I prefer a good fireball. Far more fun, don't you agree? Not that a little healing magic isn't useful!" she rambled on, then her dancing eyes suddenly stopped dead, as if some music only she could hear had abruptly dropped into silence. "I had a friend. He taught me… Gone now."

Kayden eyed the young mage with curiosity in his dark eyes. She was slightly younger than him. Nineteen? Twenty? Barely considered to be an adult if she had ever attended a Landsmeet. Her skin was deathly pale, as if it had not seen sunlight in the longest of times, and it seemed to only exaggerate her youth. Kayden had met only a few mages in his travels, and only a single mage during his young days at Highever. That mage had been part of Rendon Howe's army. Cousland considered for a moment how charging headfirst at that enemy spell caster could have been the death of him. But he was consumed with blood and revenge, the spells that had struck him were simply ignored and he had sunk his blade into the woman's chest without a seconds thought.

How had she come to be in Howe's service? Kayden found himself wondering. It was not unheard of for nobles to employ a mage Healer for prosperity (much to the disdain of the chantry), but a fully trained battlemage?

Layla was different to that woman. She wasn't trying to kill him, for a start, which was always a positive.

"What happened to him?" he asked, breaking the silence.

Layla didn't look up, but continued her gentle healing spell. The glowing blue light seemed to sing on his skin in a very acceptable, if slightly bizarre, sensation.

"He died."

Layla's features temporarily contorted, and the healing light that had been kissing his skin spluttered and faded. Instantly, the wound began to bleed again, and Kayden gave a gasp of pain.

"I know what they're calling me!" she suddenly hissed, and her brown eyes grew unfocused for a moment.

Kayden grimaced as the burning sensation of the demon's spell started to return to his wounded arm, but he ignored it, studying the young mage's face if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"He was my friend!" she continued, seemingly more to herself than him. "Anders was his name. Anders. I think he may have been the only real friend I ever had. He was just so charming and witty and kind. And now he's dead. Because of blood magic. "

"I too know what it is to experience loss," Kayden said quietly, and he placed his unharmed left hand gently on her shoulder.

"You said earlier you didn't believe that I was a blood mage," she said, finally, casting her gaze on him.

"I did say that, yes."

"Why?"

"Because I know what a murderer looks like."

"So do I, Warden."

And then her serious expression melted away as quickly as it had come and she recommenced her healing, much to Kayden's relief.

The gently hugging blue light faded away, and Kayden was vastly relieved - and slightly disappointed - when she relinquished her touch.

Layla turned her attention to the corpses that were strewn around the area.

Kayden inspected his once ruined arm. The area where the Demon had caught him was now completely hairless, but the skin itself was a healthy pink rather than an angry red.

"My thanks," he told the young mage.

Layla grinned up at him and then pushed a few health poultries into his hand.

"You're welcome, Warden."

Kayden looked set to reply when his eyes narrowed at a nearby wooden closet, his dark eyes full of suspicion.

Layla frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I heard…" he said, advancing on the closet with Oathkeeper drawn.

Now Layla was listening, she could hear the voices as well. They were quiet and muffled, but it seemed the two were in the middle of an argument.

"Will you stop fidgeting?"

"Fidgeting? If you stopped taking up all the room, I - "

"I don't want to die!"

"Shhh!"

"Hello?" Kayden called cautiously, and the two voices promptly stopped.

"H - hello?" one of the voices replied; it was practically a whimper.

Layla came to Kayden's side, smiling at the closet as if it was some sort of long lost relation.

"Excuse me, Mr Talking Closet… May I ask what you're doing here?"

"N-nothing. P - please, we don't want to die."

"My back is killing me!"

"No-one asked you to hide in my closet!"

"How is this YOUR closet?"

"No one is going to hurt you, unless you give us cause," Kayden replied stiffly. "Now come out."

The closet doors creaked open on damaged hinges, presenting two very ruffled looking mages.

One was middle-aged, his long dirty blonde hair strapped to his sweaty forehead. He was practically shaking and failed to look Kayden in the eye, preferring to stare at the floor as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. And the other…

"Finn!" Layla cried, and she was on the shocked mage in a second, practically throwing him off his feet as she grabbed him in a tight hug.

"Layla?" he gasped through the hug. "Can't… breathe."

"Sorry!" Layla relinquished her hold and stepped away, still grinning, wide-eyed, at the man.

"Friend of yours, I take it?" Kayden enquired, frowning at the mage with a not unfriendly stare.

"Oh, right!" Layla said, her bright lime eyes glittering as she took Kayden's arm in her own.

"Warden Kayden Cousland, this is Florain Phineas Horatio Aldebrant Esquire! My good friend and the reason I know so much of the Qun!"

"It's Finn," Phineus replied, smiling his relief. "Only Layla insists on - "

"It's a nice name!" Layla replied, indignant.

Kayden suppressed a smile and nodded at the mage. "A pleasure to meet you, Finn."

The other man, who called himself Godwin, quickly explained that the moment the demons had turned up, he had dived into the nearest cupboard and stayed quiet as he possibly could. Only Finn had had the same idea. It had been a bit… tight.

"I have a crick in my back and my bum's gone numb. Oh, holy Maker… look at this. Those demons didn't know what hit them, did they?"

"Surviving mages are convening on the lower levels," Kayden informed the two briskly. Finn was looking rather pale. "It is safe for you to go."

The two mages nodded their thanks, and Layla gave Finn one last tight hug before they gratefully left the stink of dead demon behind.


The corridor was full of corpses.

"Alistair?" Kayden called, looking around at the carnage in the corridor with deep concern on his fine, if haggard features.

He raised an eyebrow at his fellow Warden, who was looking out of breath. Even Morrigan was looking a little flustered as she gulped down a lyrium potion. Huan looked up at the familiar voice and barked a greeting to his master.

"What happened?"

Alistair cast a furtive glance at the fresh Templar corpses as if he hadn't noticed them before.

"Oh, these?" he replied breathlessly, wiping red blood off his blade. "They came at us after you wondered off."

"For a moment I believed the templars had began their cleansing of the tower," Wynne said, bending down to close one of the templar's eyes. He was a distressingly young man, nowhere near as broad or thick set as some of the other dead men. His once immaculate brown locks were caked in his own blood. "It turns out these men were not themselves."

"Demon," Alistair explained to Kayden, unnecessarily.

Layla was staring down at the corpses with a confused frown of an expression on her face. "Wait. I'm sorry, what? Templars can be possessed? How - ?"

A sour chuckle echoed up and down the curved corridor. "Anything can be possessed," Morrigan drawled, a evil smile spreading over her lips. "'Tis a fact that the Chantry, in their deplorable ignorance, choose to ignore."

"They don't ignore it," Alistair argued, a frown on his boyish features. "It's just mages are… y'know… more… um."

This time it was Layla who laughed coldly. "And you say you are not a templar. You certainly sound like one… Warden."

Alistair bristled, his ears turning a rather striking maroon. "Look, I'm just - I'm saying - I'm not a templar… alright?"

"Oh, that was convincing," Layla replied, nodding to herself. "I'm convinced."

"Good work," Kayden said overloudly, and Amell's suspicious glare faded away.

"We need to get a move on. Alistair and myself will take the lead. Morrigan? Take the rear."


The group continued their advance, constantly bombarded by abominations and possessed templars. Layla gritted her teeth when they were attacked by a couple of desperate blood mages, but they fell just as quickly.

They were becoming quite the war machine, Layla reflected cheerfully, as she caused another shambling skeleton to abruptly burst into fire, its coughing and clattering jaw set wide in a fiery scream as it collapsed to the floor in an ashen heap. The handsome Warden and "Templar-Boy" (as she now thought of him) were at the front of the group, two iron towers with swords shining and slicing into the undead abominations that attempted to stall the groups advance. Behind the two towering warriors came Morrigan and herself. Layla was bewildered and grudgingly impressed by the apostate's exotic spells, some of which drained the very perverted life force from the demons that accosted them, and others that seemed to cause the creatures to tear themselves apart from the inside. Not to be outdone by some tartily dressed swamp woman, Layla had cast her own spells, shocking skeletons with white hot lightning and crushing others with formidable stone fists. On one particaully notable occasion, Layla's favourite fireball spell and one of Morrigan's cones of cold convened and combined into a blistering wall of burning white hot ice that set Layla's teeth on edge. The resulting Fireice spell ploughed into a group of rage abominations, tearing them apart in a blizzard of howling flame and dagger sharp ice chards.

Afterwards, Morrigan had cast Layla a amused look, which Layla returned with a bemused grin, feeling a somewhat growing affection for the Witch.

"'Twas not bad," Morrigan conceded, eyeing the smoking corpses with a disdainful eye (which is how she seemed to view the entire world in general). "For a leashed mage," she added, as an afterthought.

Layla glared.