Thank you everyone who has taken the time to read, review, favorite or otherwise just drop by the story. I'm glad people are enjoying it!


"How do you…sense magic, Niall?" Solona asked, breaking the comfortable silence. They were in his cubby hole, her positioned comfortably on his bed, him on the other end, parchment depicting glyphs between them. He looked up at her, eyebrow raised slightly in curiosity.

"Do you mean you can't, or are you asking what it seems like to me in particular?" He glanced back down to complete a line on the mock-up of a repulsion glyph.

"You in particular."

"Tastes. Sort of." He started on a new glyph, Sol craning over to try and guess it as it took shape. "Not specific, like steak and greens, tastes. Just…similar." He dipped his quill into the inkpot again. "Not really a very common way. Most seem to get just a sort of pull in their chest or gut. Some guessed the templars could smell it, though they were probably being rude." He was halfway through, and now she could see the paralysis rune. "Why? How do you sense it?"

"It makes noise. I guess." She mumbled. "Is that normal?"

"Never heard of it, but I don't see why it would be abnormal. It's just a way of sensing magic." Niall shrugged. "Now," He held up the two sketched glyphs. "Let's practice a little more."


He felt like screaming. He was a he now, and not just an it, and that was altogether unsettling. Everything being solid, everything being real, and feeling, and color not muted and no blurring on the edge of his vision and this queer thumping in his chest playing out an unfamiliar rhythm and air was going into his body and he almost ached to feel it because everything was so new and fresh and immutable and soon he would surely combust from this supremely painful ecstasy…


After another botched paralysis wore off, Niall laughed quietly and shook his head. "That's enough for now, I think." He flopped down next to her, a sudden heavy presence on a bed built only for one person. Any other mage might have blushed, or smirked, or perhaps said something blunt, with the bodies of the two so close together. Solona merely furrowed her brow in disappointment, thinking about her failed glyphs.

Still, she hadn't pulled away from him. That was a good sign. Their relationship wasn't exactly 'normal' in the Tower; by in large, relationships weren't encouraged, and most mages didn't want them. Quick trysts and casual sex were the status quo, especially among apprentices. Mages tended to carry this over, despite having the luxury of more private living quarters.

But Niall wasn't the sort to be comfortable cavorting about and thriving on the danger of being discovered, and he had hoped Solona wasn't that way either. From what little he'd heard about her, she'd never been caught in a closet or corner or stairwell, when nearly everyone had. Including him, which was what had cured him of his desire to do it that way ever again.

That, and he didn't like to rush things. All they had in the Tower was time. As much as he would like to go somewhere else, away from the mundanes, it wasn't happening. And even then, what would they have? More time. It only made sense to take it slow. He liked this, being comfortable with a nice, quiet person who was comfortable with him. Maybe it would even last.

Sol yawned, and he half expected her to get up to leave for her own room. Instead, he felt the tentative shift of her weight, and then a contented sigh as she settled in next to him, eyes fluttering shut in the beginnings of sleep. A smile quirked his lips as he relaxed obligingly to do the same.


His size was stuck. He was small and weak and nothing moved for him and there was a curious feeling in the pit of his belly that felt similar to what had consumed him before, only more raw and real and directly connected to his nose that twitched and limbs that moved him across the wood surface and onto some grainy morsel that tasted and he didn't even know what it was like just that he had never simply tasted anything and it was glorious...


"This isn't a good idea." Jowan said nervously. "I'm telling you, you can't just do this to a mage…"

"It's her fault Neria's in the dungeons right now." An apprentice with red-gold hair, appropriately named Marigold, hissed. "So don't give us that."

"Neria attacked a templar. What did she think was going to happen?" Jowan sputtered. He was backed into a corner, two female apprentices doing their level best to intimidate him. Unfortunately, it was working.

"She would have at least killed him if Solona hadn't interfered." The other, an elf with a prim face and strong demeanor, pointed imperiously at Jowan. Her name was Lira, and she bore no love for templars, teasing or real. "Which. One. Is. Her. Room?"

"Look, she's my f-f…" Jowan paled at the suddenly murderous looks on his fellow apprentice's faces.

"Your friend? She's barely talked to you since she was Harrowed, and now you're going to defend her?" Marigold asked, her voice turned dangerous. "Do you think that's really a good idea right now?"

"I don't want her to get hurt." He managed. The girls rolled their eyes.

"She won't be Tranquiled, if that's what you mean." Lira sneered. "So. Her room? Or maybe we should let slip to the Revered Mother what Lily's doing when she's supposedly involved in extra devotions…"

Jowan paled, and the girls grinned. They had him now.


Perhaps he had tasted too much because there was a curious new kind of ache in his belly that felt stretching and unpleasant, but it, too, was new and so it was quite interesting at the least. Still he felt something else that was similar to what he was used to but entirely more pervasive; he felt tired and so he curled up into a little ball and shut his eyes.

"Ugh, what is that?" The sudden high pitched noise sent him immediately scrambling and he didn't even know why just that he needed to get away and find somewhere dark to cower and hide and so he did down some odd canvas material that slithered with magic and under the bed where he sat shaking and quivering.

"Just some stupid mouse. A cat'll get it later. We don't have much time." This was another voice, shriller, meaner, and it made him shake all the more as vibrations from footsteps sent tiny tremors up his spine. "Just start shredding things."

A grunt and an audible snap and then two pieces of something clattered to the floor and he scurried to the other side of the bed.

"What was that?"

"Some wooden flute. Probably didn't even work. The music book is there." A sharp sound, repeated over and over as small, flat things floated to the floor and he couldn't move too far away from any of them fast enough before another would appear and he would change direction.

"Quick little spark of fire to burn the bed. The templars won't notice it; they'll just think someone's starting a fireplace." There was some familiar pinprick on his senses and then some heat and a smell and then it was gone again.

"That's good enough. Don't want to burn the whole thing down or they'll actually care enough to look for us."

"Right, this is good enough. She should get the picture." And then the tremor-steps moved away and vanished and he stayed where he was for a very long time to savor this new feeling that was probably terror and the blinding pain of the thumping in his chest.


Solona woke up slowly, and realized there was a crick in her neck and her arm had fallen asleep, but otherwise she was very warm and comfortable. Niall was still out, curled around her, and it wasn't a bad position to be in, really. Besides losing feeling in her arm, anyway.

Judging by the dimness of what light was normally had in the Tower, it was getting late. She really should check up on her…friend. Gently, she shook Niall's shoulder with her free hand. "Niall. Wake up."

He muttered something incoherent before rousing slightly. "Yes…?"

"You're on my arm."

"…Oh. Ha, sorry." Her fellow mage pulled himself upright. A sort of disturbed face appeared on Sol as she tried to work feeling back into her floppy arm, and Niall laughed. She punched him lightly in the shoulder when it regained use.

"I'm going back to my room. I'll see you tomorrow?" She asked. He nodded agreeably and, then, leaned forward to kiss her.

Her shock and surprise kept her from reciprocating, and it was a quick, unsure gesture on his part as well. Both were bright red by the end of it.

"Er…right. I hope you have a good night." He looked the ultimate in sheepish, and she gave him a smile.

"You, too, Niall." Sliding off the bed, she tried not to leave in any manner that could be construed as hasty or awkward. She didn't know what one did after they kissed. For all that most of the mages and apprentices in the Tower really did, they should have found a closet or something to cover the doorway with and gone at it.

She wondered if he was disappointed they hadn't.

Harrowed mages had templars in the hallways, it was true, but no curfew. Therefore it was not uncommon for them to be out and about at odd hours with candles and books, and not a one gave her a second glance. For this, she was grateful, because she was quite certain the blush on her cheeks was some sort of blaring signal that could be interpreted any number of ways, as could her rapid walking.

Her mind was still clouded over with scattered thoughts involving Niall and what one would really have space to do in a cupboard when she turned the corner into her room.

It was a mess. Papers were everywhere, ripped in half and flung about. Her bed was ruined, covered in soot and half-burnt sheets. She could see one half of her wooden flute on the ground, but not the other. And where was…

Solona knew what had happened, and had expected it, certainly. But when the first day had passed and no one had said a word to her, kind or unkind, it had been a relief, thinking everything was back to normal. Obviously, it was not, and now she had lost her music, the music Niall had given her, and she had nowhere to sleep, and Maker, but Sloth was missing.

The tug at her robe hem startled her so badly she almost kicked out at the source, when she felt the odd tugging sensation as a mouse climbed up. Small, dirt-brown, and large eared, the tiny creature stared up at her pitifully. A breath of relief whooshed out of her.

"So, you're all right." She murmured. The mouse gave what could only be described as an indignant squeak. "And still haven't learned to talk." Scooping up the creature, she slipped him into her pocket. "I don't suppose you know who did this…"

There was no answer from the mouse, which had curled up inside the cloth. She began gathering up her music sheets, noting that matching halves weren't even together in the same part of the room, and some had burnt up with the bedspread. She couldn't help it; she started to sniffle. It wasn't fair. That's all there was to it; just not fair.

"Sol, I was wondering—" Niall rounded the corner, hand on the back of his neck, still red from before (or perhaps newly red) when he stopped mid-sentence. She looked up at him like a guilty child, caught in the act of something that could easily be made into her fault. "Andraste's sword, what stupidity."

He took her hand, shaking the music pages out of it. "You can worry about those later. You…you can stay with me tonight, and we'll get you new bed things in the morning." One could tell he was attempting to take command of the situation, and yet the beginning of the last sentence tripped him up. "If…if you want to, I mean."

She hiccupped, forgetting for the moment that there was a demon in her pocket. Solona nodded, and hugged him, and the hiccups didn't stop, not until they were at his room and she was in his bed again and she was crying into his shoulder. In the past week and a half she'd undergone her Harrowing, had the templars suspicious of her, stopped another mage from killing a templar, been propositioned by a demon, called to the Knight-Commander's office, and now this. It was more 'excitement' than she'd ever had prior. She didn't even feel like herself anymore; what had she been thinking?

And yet, here she was, in another mage's bed, sobbing and soaking his robes while he stroked her hair and told her it would be okay. She clung to that, and him, as her stability, when before it had simply been herself. And as she dragged him down and kissed him, she missed the small mouse slipping away, down the bed and into the shadows of the stone.


Okay, so, I know I mentioned to LibraMoon I would clear up some of Sol's motivation for helping Sloth, and then I didn't. Well…my bad, but the chapter went in a different direction than I planned. So, sorry for that, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same.

And yes, Cullen will be back. I miss him, too.