AN: Thank you, thank you to all my reviewers. You guys and gals make world go round!

Rated M for mature themes.

I own nothing.

-Update- In regard to SomeStudent, who left a rather scathing review, while I understand your points. I must point out that I have done everything within the bounds of this site to DISCOURAGE anyone ages 10 and under to read this fiction. However, I obviously am unable to control the age of whom visits this piece. I believe that the responsibility of the individual and their parents/guardians. Or that the minds of people ages 6-26 are easily manipulated, I both agree and disagree. While I do agree with your point of minors and teens are still learning and of course growing (to include their moral views), I in no way think that a full fledged adult is suddenly rendered incapable of making a choice by reading this fanfiction. Or that this fanfiction will suddenly take away their ability to decide what is right, wrong, or socially acceptable.

To address your other prime concern, no I am not promoting a 'seduction myth' and make it clear that Solona as the main character does not find being forced to submit a suddenly wonderful thing. What I sought to imply was that she was not being intentionally harmed. 'Not of disfavor' means that it was not of disapproval or dislike. That in no way should be taken to mean she wanted it or 'deserved' it. Simply that the action did not cause harm, pain, ect. It could have easily been a startled 'eep' for all intents and purposes.

While I commend you wanting to be a DV law professional, and in that I am sincere, it does not mean that everyone in the world is out to paint the victims in a poor light. Now, you might think my reply harsh and I invite you to send me a PM if you would like to do so, but I have stated before that this contains mature themes that might be upsetting to some. I encourage those that find the material unpalatable to STOP reading. If you do not think this work is well thought out or written, then I respectfully disagree with your opinion. But it is your opinion and you are entitled to it. Any other readers that wish to express concerns or comments are always welcomed to send me a PM, which I will respond to as soon as I am able.

However, in light of the misconception, I have made certain to re-write the parts of Solona to more clearly reflect that she is not suddenly 'alright' with this happening. She is more or less sacrificing herself for the other mages.

Yours truly,

The Author.

OoOoOo

A single mage kept vigil in a room filled to the brim with memories that threatened to overwhelm her at any passing moment. Sad eyes, gazed listlessly at the back of what would likely be the chamber of her life's continued torment. Her neck muscles protested, but her head remained firmly locked in place. Down trod and outcast, that was the true meaning of being a mage was it not?

She prayed, though she doubted the Maker even bothered to listen. She begged for reprieve from this life and the safety of the other mages. She pleaded for even a sliver of the justice everyone else had. Even the city-born elves were given more freedom than her kind. They were cursed, but much desired. A sick and twisted sense of dark satisfaction filled her at the knowledge that magic-born would be forever wanted even though they were feared.

Her magic tittered and whispered around her like a self-soothing invisible shroud. And the single desperate thought passed her mind to wish that she had never studied the accursed healing magic. She cursed that her talents lay in repairing the damage done to men by enemies and themselves. Perhaps if she had been of any other school of magic she might have been spared- but no, she knew much better. Solona understood keenly that she would have died or fallen prey to Ser Carroll or his ilk long ago.

She could rebel in every way known to man and the Maker, but she would never be able to change what she was.

She was Solona Amell, Spirit Healer, and First Enchanter of the Circle of Ferelden. As she would remain until she drew her last breath upon this forsaken world.

As prudence for her role required, she'd taken Greagoir's advice to heart, knowing that it came from the last vestiges of his love for Wynne. Though she was young, she held no foolish illusions that it had been out of kindness for her well-being. She could feel the terror and repulsion snaking through her blood with each new heartbeat. The entire Tower had been an odd combination of subdued celebration. With the appointing of the new Knight-Commander, things in the tower were to return to their former 'glory' effective immediately.

Solona felt the shudder rattle her thin frame as she tried to block out the visions of her sister mages being picked over like expensive baubles. She touched a pale and trembling hand to the bed post, trying to quell the rising bile at the back of her throat. Her hair, still damp from the bath she'd forced herself to take, clung cloyingly to her shoulders. It was not the first time, she knew with the same certainty that the sun would rise on the morrow, and would not be the last time she was imprisoned in her skin. Bound by duty and the sense of obligation to the others under her protection, this made her the ever-so-useful sacrifice.

She was too numb to feel, and yet, too terrified to do much else except breathe. A soft whimper escaped her partially parted lips. What little perfumed oils had been left in the wake of the massacre had been used to scent Solona's neck and other key places on her body. Petra had helped her dress and arranged her locks appealingly; much as she had the night Solona forsook her age-given protection to warm the bed of Ser Otto. The thought of his loss still left her chest slightly tight. He had, by all of the Tower's standards, been very kind to her.

Her sorrow was short lived.

The sound of metal footsteps approaching caused her to bow her head lest a wave of dizziness overtake her. Solona forced herself to remain calm and to remember despite the conflicting emotions clouding her thoughts, that she was still the First Enchanter. Her actions or lack thereof harmed far more than just herself.

It is the longest moment in her short life as the door creeks open. Solona kept her back straight, but her head is bowed to avoid this even seconds longer if the option is there.

"First Enchanter," an all too familiar and oil voice scrapped across her senses.

'Dear Maker', she screamed trapped within the confines of her mind, 'No. Anyone, please, anyone but him.'

Solona felt the very air in her lungs freeze and take her heart with it, only to have it plummet to her stomach. It was a fate far worse than death that she had been thrust into. Her body refused to move and she is almost grateful that she does not have to look upon his sinister face.

"Ah, my little Amell," Ser Carroll's voice whips over her like a bath of hot oil, burning her to the core.

She trembled slightly at the knowledge she belonged to the thing speaking to her. She heard his steps as he approached her and her skin crawled of its own volition. His hands on her would be too much to bear and she prayed she could detach herself from this.

"You probably think you've gotten away, don't you?" His lips touched the outer shell of her ear leaving the hotness of his breath on her skin.

Solona felt ill at ease. She did not understand what his words were supposed to mean.

"I'm not put off in the slightest," his armored hands traced up her side to punishingly grip her hips. He ground his pelvis into her backside and she hissed out in pure instinct. She did not have to see him to know he was smirking as his lips kissed her still damp hair. "I have nothing but time, dearest one, and you and all your little mage friends have nowhere to run."

Rage boiled underneath her skin coupled with her fear. Solona shoved her elbows back and succeeded in knocking him slightly off balance as she escaped his clutches. Her eyes flashed with the song of her enchantment, the green swirling magic served to remind them both of where they stood. He was correct in a sense. Solona already knew she could never leave the Tower, but his words so callously thrown at her had sparked her limited act of courage.

He was not the Knight-Commander, and as such, was not given right to her body.

"You will not touch me," she stated lowly.

His intense stare deepened as did his obvious displeasure. "Perhaps not yet, but you are mine Amell. You always will belong to me, despite tedious things like rank. I despise waiting. However, I will bend your body to mine as I shatter that stubborn little will of yours."

He closed his eyes as he savored the words like another would savor fine wine. Solona nearly gagged at the sight. She could clearly see the arousal he felt over the very thought of breaking her.

"Leave," she said brashly as she dared the chance of punishment. Magic seeped from her like rivulets of rainwater cascading all around the room.

Ser Carroll leered at her sickeningly. "Don't try to threaten me," he moved to quickly for her to avoid as his grip started to crush her wrists.

She struggled as she attempted to pull herself free in vain.

"I am protected," she cried out in alarm.

"Yes," Ser Carroll acknowledged with a thoughtful look alighting his insane eyes. "And he's not here. Is he?"

"You'll be punished. Cast into prison!"

"For what, my Amell?" His face twisted into a look of mock innocence. "Stopping you from using your magic on me?"

Her face was aghast. "I never-"

"Who would believe you?" He replied icily. His lips captured hers before she could register what was happening and she felt her panic soar. He pulled back and stared down at her with his cruel intentions for the world to see. "It's regrettable, but I did warn you. I've been so patient with you." Ser Carroll gave an exaggerated sigh.

Solona's mind whirled in confusion, fear, heartache, and anger. His lips curved into a lecherous smile.

Ser Carroll leaned near her again, and Solona turned her head away from him. His lips kissed the side of her neck and paused at her ear.

"I'll simply have to play pretend until I capture the real thing."

Solona's eyes widened in sheer horror. "No," she whispered.

His eyes light up at her reaction, his smile nearly gleeful. "I will of course let you know how Petra fares on the morrow."

His laughter trailed behind him leaving Solona to collapse where she had stood. The stone floor rushed to meet her knees which landed with a dull thud as she stared petrified at the thought of what Petra might endure for her sake. The torrent of mental images, each worse than the last caused a dam to break within her, having succumbed to the mounting pressure. The emotions that had simmered so close to the surface spilled over into hot tears that cascaded down her cheeks. She cursed and sobbed at the unfairness of this life as she pounded her fists on the stone. Soon the crying turned to mere hiccups and she hid her face in shame though no one was present. It was shameful to the young woman to cry and do nothing to correct the situation.

She wracked her thoughts for a solution as she scrubbed away the traces of her tears with the back of her hand. Even being the First Enchanter did not permit Solona to intervene unless it was obvious that the mage in question was being forced physically. The Chantry in all their kindness did not consider coercion to be incorrect when in respect to mage-kind. She knew that Petra would never voice the atrocities committed against her mind and body this or any other night. Time had bent every senior mage to become accustomed if not expectant of such cruelties. This was their life and they knew no other.

Yet, once, long ago Solona had known a life where the sun shined on her skin and the wind ruffled her hair. She was not forced to try and feel the sun by stretching weary hands to the windowsill hoping to soak up a single beam of warmth on her skin.

Viciously, she cast out the thoughts as if they were a vile poison. For in truth, such thoughts would get her nowhere. Quickly she turned her attention back to the matter of sparing Petra as much pain as possible. However, her hands were summarily tied. Solona could not make Ser Carroll leave the other mage alone and Petra did not have the benefit of a Protector. Solona froze at the last thought.

The First Enchanter could not solicit a Protector, nor give themselves to anyone other than the Knight-Commander. Do be so foolish would only result in the deaths of multiple people. She watched the candle light flicker for a moment more in deep thought.

If she could but warn Petra, leave this room and find her dear friend…

Solona picked herself up from the floor stiffly. Perhaps if she were to hurry, she would be able to come back before the new Knight-Commander retired for the night. Hope sung in her heart, undeterred by the harsh reality of her world for a single moment, as she turned and started for the door. Her hand grasped the cold handle as she jerked the door open.

She blinked, and gave a small gasp of surprise as amber eyes caught hers. Solona took an involuntary step backward.

"Ser Cullen?" She questioned for lack of anything else to say in the moment. Her eyes darted past him, searching in the vain hope that Petra would be passing by this part of the Tower, or that the Knight-Commander would be arriving soon so that she might fulfill her duty though she loathed it, and leave.

His face was nearly impassive, but his eyes were looking at her so strangely. For a fleeting moment, Solona thought he actually looked pleased. She had never seen him look anything like he did.

"First Enchanter," he said, though his words were carefully guarded.

Solona felt her agitation soar to new heights, as her thoughts were consumed with protecting Petra. Her time as a Circle mage prompted her to fill the silence that stretched between them causing her to feel all the more impatient. "I hope you are well," she demurred by way of small talk. Her hair, which had been so carefully arranged, was likely a mess, but Solona could care less what the likes of Ser Cullen and his disdainful view of her kind thought.

He stared down at her imperiously with his face betraying nothing. "As well as can be expected," he replied neutrally.

Solona merely nodded. Her pulse leapt as he pushed past her into the room. She stumbled to back away in time, lest she be run over. Her brows puckered in confusion. Was she to be watched by Ser Cullen until the Knight-Commander arrived?

"Close the door," he ordered nearly gently.

The mage felt the bitter tang of apprehension tighten in her stomach. She did not think she could tolerate another tongue lashing from the likes of him. Though she did not wish to, Solona closed the door and turned toward the Templar, who was in the process of shedding his armor.

Understanding dawned on Solona as to why he would be disrobing and to her chagrin, her cheeks flushed. She looked away as he stared at her. The mage did not understand why he was watching her so intently. Dislike him she might, but she would not harm him. Even if she wanted to, the repercussions would be far too great.

When the last of his armor had been removed and stored in the proper place, he sat on the bed and waited. Solona tugged her lower lip between her teeth in thought. She said nothing, though inside she was squirming to get away. She wanted out of this room and as far away from any Templar as she could get.

His eyes became hooded slightly as he held out his hand to her. "Come," he commanded.

She hated this part. Solona abhorred having to give her body so freely because it came as part of her station. She would pull herself away from this, as she had forced herself to give into Ser Otto and Ser Greagoir both.

Her throat went dry and she pushed herself to quell the trembling in her limbs as she slowly moved forward to comply. Her mind still raced with worry over Petra and the concern that this night brought for every mage in the Tower. The children, thank the Maker, would be spared. However, every harrowed mage, few though there were now, were fair game to the lusty advances of the Templars.

The screams this night would take on a new horror. However, there might yet be hope if Ser Cullen were in charge of the Templars. From what little she had ever had the displeasure of seeing of him, he was a dedicated member of the Chantry and abided by the rules. That was almost more than Solona had truly dared hope for.

She swallowed hard through the building tension as she drew closer with each footstep. Solona could not help but feel as a young girl again being caught by the Templar with pure repugnance radiating in his eyes. Her skin tightened in apprehension of the act that was surely to follow. Her experience leant it to be an unpleasant deed that was best over quickly.

The First Enchanter gently laid a trembling hand in the grasp of the Knight-Commander. In her mind's eye she could vividly see this as a union akin to marriage, both their parts done out of duty and necessity. Her life was no longer her own, not that it had been from the moment she was known to be a cursed mage. The first blazing touch of his warm skin upon hers caused Solona to draw a breath. She attempted to remind herself that this was just like every other time that made her stomach coil and her skin crawl. She turned her face away from him as her other hand made the familiar trek to the clasps the held her robes in place. Her embarrassment spiked to new heights and internally she cursed him for her fate. Though she did consider this a far kinder sort of prison than being held at the clutches of Ser Carroll.

She considered death kinder than Ser Carroll.

"No," he said harshly, and Solona jumped slightly her gaze locking with his.

He looked so predatory watching her, that it reminded her vaguely of Ser Carroll, but the hunger burning in the depths of his amber orbs seemed intimidating for some other reason.

The hand not holding hers snuck around the back of her robe, and pushed her closer.

"I'll take care of it," he stated lowly and Solona did not know what to do as he gently bore her to the bed.

She complied with his request, though she still did not submit willingly mentally, she knew it was required of her for the other mages. Her gasp was not one of dis-favor, but surprise that he bothered to speak to her. It made her wish to fidget away from him. This act between them did not require speech and Solona wished to keep it that way. Her thoughts remained locked on Petra, and she tried to block out the thoughts of the nightmare her dear friend was sure to endure now that the First Enchanter had been delayed in warning her.

Solona prayed to a silent and uncaring Maker for forgiveness.