Jowan

"Three, two, one – Now!"

"A'ruinn'abasch," Gwyn whispered. There was a bluish haze twirling around his wrists, wrapping around his staff. The power was turned against the target. Gwyn saw Neria casting a shield, but she was too slow. Her body started to fizzle and she screamed. Gwyn waved his staff and whispered, "haratto'gicka" – the magic was instantly dispelled.

"Are you all right?" He asked his friend.

"Yes," Neria said, panting. "What-What was that? A walking bomb?" Gwyn nodded. Their instructor was watching them carefully, and so were the three Templars in the room. Gwyn felt tired. He rubbed his forehead and frowned.

"Are you all right?" Neria asked softly. She was standing beside him, a concerned look on her face.

"Yes," Gwyn smiled. "I haven't been sleeping very well, that's all."

"Oh, is this because of Torrian? Don't worry, I'm sure he'll be fine," she reassured him.

"I don't know," Gwyn said, casting a glance at the Templars. "He was worried about it as well. What if he doesn't pass it? Do you really think they would make him…?" He could not bring himself to say the word. How funny, he thought, that he had got accustomed to dealing with Tranquils, and now that there was a chance that Torrian… But no. That was not an option. "Master Alenn, how long does the Harrowing take?"

"There isn't a specific amount of time for the ritual. The better the student is, the faster it is over. I assume you are worried about Apprentice Torrian?" Alenn frowned. "Fear not. That boy has great potential. He is a fighter, and I am sure he will finish soon. Neria, are you ready to try your offensive casting now?" Neria nodded and got into a stance. "Gwyn, focus," Alenn said.

Gwyn nodded and stood still. He saw Neria's lips move and the power transferring to her staff. "V'air'ocksen," he whispered, and waved his staff, creating a circle of air around him, a purplish tint covering him. He saw the flames come closer and die upon touching his shield. But his mind was tired, and the shield died as well. He jumped backwards to avoid the last flames.

"Hmm… You have yet to perfect it, but good job," Alenn said. "You look a little pale, though. Why don't you get some rest?"

"I will. Thank you, Master Alenn." Gwyn took his staff and walked over to the second floor, followed by Neria. The two nineteen-year-olds had become really close in the last year, and they were always paired together for practice. After their staves had been returned to the stockroom, they went back to the common room. Jowan was sleeping. Lately he had been awake at strange times. Gwyn had seen him walking out of the room many times in the middle of the night, especially those days in which he and Torrian stayed near the fire, talking and cuddling in the dark.

The group had started splitting when Anders passed his Harrowing. As a mage, albeit a junior one, he had been busy performing duties different from those of the apprentices; on top of that, he had received a bedroom on the second floor. Wynne was working with him, and Gwyn was occasionally allowed to participate in their sessions, since healing was also his path. Anders's relationship with Gwyn had become tense in the last year, but since they were no longer spending much time together, they seemed to appreciate each other's company from time to time.

Jowan was supposed to follow Anders in his Harrowing, but his call did not come. He had not passed his theoretical exams, and was forced to move to Gwyn's and Neria's group. Their friends knew he had resented the change, but he was not the kind of man who would openly talk about his personal problems. He did, however, express his discomfort about the budding relationship between Gwyn and Torrian – not to them, but to Neria.

"I shudder to think about the two of them together. It is sick," he said to her one day.

"What do you mean?" Neria asked.

"Don't you feel bad about it? Knowing that the person who kissed you is now kissing another person? A man?" Every word that came out of his mouth felt as if he was vomiting poison.

Neria shrugged. "Why would I feel bad about it?"

"It is disgusting. Maker have mercy on their souls," Jowan said, but seeing the two boys approaching, he muttered something and walked away. Torrian and Gwyn were not even holding hands. They were simply walking together. Neria did not understand why Jowan felt their connection was horrid. If anything, she envied them. Gwyn was happier than ever before, and Torrian seemed to have found a certain peace of mind in his companion that suited him.

Gwyn was sleeping when he felt the clanking of armored Templars coming in the room. He opened his eyes and peered at the tall figures that were now leaving Torrian's body on his bed. Gwyn's heart started racing, and as soon as the Templars were gone, he jumped out of his bed and rushed to Torrian's side.

"Tor," he called softly, caressing his companion's cheek and jawline. Torrian was sound asleep. Gwyn gave a sigh of relief and pressed his lips against Torrian's forehead. He sat on the floor, next to Torrian's bed, and held his hand until he fell asleep as well.

He felt a soft breeze playing with his hair. His eyes still closed, he moved his head to continue sleeping. Something was gently tugging at his hair. He opened his eyes sleepily and found Torrian's deep blue eyes, gazing at him.

"Good morning," Torrian said cheerfully.

It took Gwyn's brain several seconds to process the image. Once this was done, he beamed at his companion and turned to hug him.

"Why did it take you so long?" he asked. "I was worried sick about you!"

"My, such little confidence in my abilities is bound to make me sad," Torrian pouted. "The test actually started later than they'd planned because of Wendell. He was sick all over the place, ugh. And what are you doing down there? Isn't the floor an uncomfortable place to sleep? You could have joined me in bed, you know…"

"No." Gwyn blushed. "But I didn't want to leave you. This was your last night here. You'll probably lodge with Anders now."

"You're not jealous, are you?" Torrian teased.

Gwyn frowned. "A little. But if everything goes fine, I'll join you next year. Until then…" He patted Torrian's hand with a smile.

Torrian looked around, making sure that nobody was watching. He leaned forward and gave Gwyn a long kiss, leaving him breathless. "You're going to be the death of me," he growled playfully. "You and your 'I'm not ready to do anything yet' arguments."

Gwyn blushed. "But it is true! I… There is no privacy here!" He whispered angrily, "And I'm not going to lift up my robes in some dirty corner, or against a bookcase, or… or in the privy room!"

"Oh, I see you've been devoting some time to think about that business," Torrian chuckled. "Well, it's something. At least it gives me hope."

Gwyn shook his head, but then smiled and looked away. The door had opened and Anders had come in.

"Oh! You're awake. Good to see you're fine. Does your head hurt?"

"Should it?" Torrian raised an eyebrow.

"Well, mine certainly did when I came to. But I think Greagoir must have taken the chance to hit me while I was in the…" He saw Gwyn. "Aaand forget I said anything, because I'm not supposed to talk about the Harrowing."

"I wasn't going to ask anyway," Gwyn said.

"Huh. I thought you were more curious," Anders said and winked, making Gwyn blush yet again. "But… You know, just to be safe. Anyway, Old Irving has sent me to fetch you. You're to be relocated on the second floor, as you must have realized, and you'll get your staff and new set of robes and all those things."

"Wonderful!" Torrian said, jumping out of the bed. "I should pack my things. I can't wait to have my own staff!"

"And you'll be bunking in my dormitory," Anders said, passing an arm over Torrian's shoulders. Gwyn got on his feet and walked to the privy room. His last moments with Torrian and he had to spend them with Anders there. Calm down, he told himself. There's nothing to worry about. Torrian likes you. He likes you. He poured some water into his bowl and washed his face. Cold water always soothed him. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on positive things: Torrian was alive. He had passed his Harrowing. He would still be in the Hold, only a floor away.

He felt a pair of hands embracing him from behind; Torrian's impeccable stubble rubbed against his cheek. He opened his eyes and looked at Torrian's reflection on the mirror. He tried to smile, but Torrian would not buy it.

"What would accomplished duelist, renowned lover, and pirate nobleman Mattheus Pompadour do?" Torrian asked with a smile.

Gwyn chuckled, amused by his lover's mention of the adventurous character they had made up so long ago now. "He would kiss the object of his affection and exit through the window, promising he would return." He lowered his eyes. "But he never returned."

"Neither will I," Torrian said softly. "You will come to me instead." He kissed Gwyn lovingly. "You're my friend," he whispered. "And you're my love. Never forget that." Gwyn nodded, and Torrian left.

As it turned out, Gwyn need not have worried about Torrian and Anders sleeping together. That afternoon, Anders caused a monumental ruckus on the ground floor by summoning more beasts than the mages could handle, making the Templars fight and aid the enchanters. Amidst the confusion, he vanished. Greagoir was livid, blaming it on the youngest recruits, who stuttered their apologies and were sent to guard the hallways instead of the gates.

"I wish I had the gall to do that," Jowan muttered to Neria.

"For his sake, I hope he'll stay away for good this time," she replied. "If the Templars catch him again… I don't know what they will do to him. Tranquility, perhaps?"

Jowan shuffled uncomfortably. "That should never be an option."

"What? Afraid of it?" Neria touched her friend's hand gently. "I've heard that those who fear going through the Harrowing can request it instead."

"Cowards. I'd do my Harrowing in a heartbeat, if they gave me the chance. This situation is driving me crazy."

"Well, you still have one more year. Come, I'll help you with the texts."

"Thank you, honey," Jowan said, caressing her cheek. "You're a real friend."

"Thank you, First Enchanter," Gwyn said. "I know this must have caused trouble with the Knight-Commander, so I appreciate the effort you've made to give us this possibility."

Irving sighed. "I wish things didn't have to be this way, Gwyn. I really do. But I ran out of excuses for Anders's behaviour. This year in confinement may put things into perspective for him; help him see that we aren't as imprisoned as he says we are."

"I doubt he'll see it that way, First Enchanter," Gwyn replied gently.

"Yes, so do I. So remember: one hour per day, but no more than that."

"I understand. Thank you," Gwyn bowed and left Irving's study room.

"I don't want to eat today either," Anders said dispassionately, facing away from the bars of his cell. "But don't leave the food there, because the mice will come for it, and I don't want to be accused of using magic improperly for zapping them."

"Don't be silly," Gwyn said. "Of course you have to eat."

Anders turned around, surprised. "Gwyn!" He smiled and went towards his friend. "What are you doing here? How did they let you in?"

"Irving gave us permission to bring you lunch every day and stay with you while you eat," Gwyn smiled back. "I hope you don't mind."

"Mind! I…" Anders's eyes sparkled. "Andraste's flame, I swear I've never been happier to see you! How did you persuade him to-?"

"It was Torrian, actually. He couldn't come today because he's welcoming a group of apprentices that were transferred from Kirkwall," Gwyn told him proudly. "Irving and Greagoir chose him because of his 'remarkable spirit of cooperation' or something like that. So please, grab your meal and start eating."

Anders took the plate. "You're very lucky to have him, you know that?" he said slowly, fixing his gaze on Gwyn.

"Yes. Well, I don't have him. It's not like he's mine… What?" he asked, hearing Anders's laughter.

"The guy's been yours for years now. Possibly since you came to the Circle. He was always looking after you, and whenever we were alone, he'd go Gwyn this, Gwyn that. Trust me; it's a good thing that you can hide it so well. Imagine what the Templars would do if they saw you two loving each other?"

"Oh, no. We still haven't- Wait. What do you mean?" Gwyn frowned and blushed.

Anders laughed. "I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about love. You don't want to give them anything for them to use as a weapon against you."

There it was: the feeling that the entire world was against him. Gwyn had wondered how long it would take before it found its way into the conversation. "Hey," Gwyn said. "Did I ever tell you how we discovered my magic?"

"We?"

"Nerissa and I."

"I don't think you have," Anders shook his head. "But I'd be glad to hear that story now," he smiled as he sat down to eat and listen.

"Look at what Torrian brought!" Anders whispered excitedly, some months later. Gwyn moved closer to the bars and then he heard the soft meowing. "Is that…?"

"Mr Wiggums, yes!" Anders was beside himself with happiness. "Tor said that this beautiful thing was waiting for me near my working spot in the Gardens." The cat was curled up on his lap, and he was petting it gently.

"Are you sure the Templars won't say anything about this?"

"Not if they can't see him, and he's so smart he knows when not to meow!"

Gwyn wondered if Anders had started losing his mind. And what was Torrian thinking? He could get all of them in trouble, and then they would not be able to see Anders any longer. He sighed heavily, but tried to look happy for Anders's sake. He would have a chat with Torrian later.

"May I have a word with Enchanter Torrian, please?" Gwyn said, poking his head into Irving's study room. Neria and the other apprentices watched the dark-haired boy come out of the room with a puzzled look on his face.

"Is there a problem?" he asked, but Gwyn shook his head and beckoned for him to follow. When they got to the Senior Mages' library, Gwyn looked for a secluded place, surrounded by bookcases.

"What is the meaning of this?" Torrian asked. Gwyn's arms were folded across his chest. "Ah, I get it. Mr Wiggums."

"Do you have any idea what this might mean? We're barely allowed to take him his meals. If the Templars find the cat-!"

"Easy there. Calm down. They won't find it. Anders had already trained him to hide. Now you're getting all paranoid. Maybe you shouldn't see Anders anymore. He's rubbing off on you."

"What were you thinking? Why do you do these things?" Gwyn covered his face.

"You mean how dared I do something nice for a friend?" He gasped dramatically. "It's part of my charm, but you already know that," Torrian said, giving him a roguish smile.

Gwyn grumbled. He looked sideways at the apprentices that were far from them.

"What are you looking at? Is there some-?" Torrian was interrupted by Gwyn's kiss. Long. Warm. Unexpected. Torrian's body reacted after the first shock, and his hands moved over his lover's back, pressing him closer against his body.

"Oh, for the love of the Maker!" they heard and quickly pulled apart. They saw Jowan standing next to them, holding an ancient book. "Can't you just keep it to yourselves?"

"We were doing that," Torrian said. "What are you doing here? You are not supposed to borrow any of these books. These sections are not for apprentices."

Jowan stared at him, piqued by the distinction between apprentices and mages. "I was returning a book that someone had left lying about," he said. "Aren't you supposed to be assisting Irving in your class with Neria?"

Torrian gave him a cold look and Jowan responded with a nasty one. Gwyn felt terribly uncomfortable. Torrian rushed back to Irving's office.

"You know that what you're doing is unnatural, don't you?" Jowan said. "You should pray to the Maker for forgiveness."

"Since when do you care so much for the Maker?" Gwyn spat. "What would He say if He saw you reading those books?" He pointed at the book Jowan was holding. Jowan became pale. "Do you think I have no ears?" Gwyn went on. "That I didn't hear the rumours about you? Dabbling in bl-"

"You will shut your mouth," Jowan said. "You won't say another word about me. Oh, I see. You must be the one spreading the rumours, hoping that the Templars will overlook what you've been doing with Torrian."

"If you feel like saying something about us, then be ready," Gwyn said in a whisper, close to Jowan's ear. "Because two can play this game, and they will come after you." Jowan gave him a cold, hard stare and then he turned around and left. Gwyn started shaking. He felt sick. He felt vile. He had never thought himself capable of threatening someone. He did not mind what could happen to him. But nobody messed with Torrian.

"Poor Anders," Neria said one evening. "He was devastated. He really loved that cat."

"He'll be proud of it when he learns that Mr Wiggums killed three Templars."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Cullen told me, who else? He's the only one that will take the time to speak with us."

"Jowan says he's been watching me," Neria giggled. "If only he knew I'm not interested in Templars."

"It's better to have at least one of them on our side, so don't tell him," Gwyn chuckled.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Anything."

"What's happened between you and Jowan?" Neria watched Gwyn's face with great interest. It clouded over pretty quickly. "Something must have happened for you to avoid each other as much as you can."

"I'm not sure. But I guess that now that we're adults, we're not forced to get along, right? I mean, we're civil towards each other because of you, but that's the extent of our friendship nowadays."

"Is there anything I can do for you two?" Neria asked, holding Gwyn's hand over the table. Gwyn kissed her hand and shook his head. She was such a sweet girl.

"What do you mean, 'gone'?" the apprentices asked one morning, as Irving tried to explain why the classes with Wynne had been cancelled.

"Our dear Wynne has received the call of the King and she will join the Royal Army." Irving looked at everybody's gaping faces. "You can close your mouths now. The King requested her presence in order to organize the group of healers that will aid the army gathering in the Korcari Wilds."

"Orlesians again?" an apprentice asked.

"Don't be silly," another said. "Why would the Orlesians attack from the Wilds? That's in the south!"

"Civil war?"

"In the Wilds? With the Chasind only," Gwyn said, "and they're a peaceful people." He looked at Irving. "These must be extraordinary circumstances."

Greagoir intervened. "Why must you all be so curious? Isn't it enough that we tell you that the classes will be suspended for the moment?" The apprentices fixed their eyes on him. Greagoir sighed. "Fine. If you must know, scouts have informed that there is a group of… Darkspawn near the Wilds."

Whispers covered the small room.

"I'm sorry," Gwyn said, raising his hand. "Do you mean Darkspawn as in 'the monsters that used to be the corrupted Tevinter magisters of days of yore'?"

"Is there any other type?" Greagoir said.

"But weren't they eradicated four hundred years ago?" The apprentices started murmuring again.

"The rest should be of no concern to you. Do not start thinking that you will be attacked here. We are far from the conflict, and this is the safest place in Ferelden. Now, as the First Enchanter said before, Wynne will be gone for some time, at least until this has been solved. Thus, your lessons will be interrupted until further notice. You are all dismissed."

Greagoir turned to Irving as the apprentices slowly left the room. "Pray that this is not more serious than we think, because I will not be in the greatest of moods if the Wardens come to recruit more of you."

"The Wardens?" Gwyn said, standing behind Irving. "The Grey Wardens? Legendary vanquishers of the Blight?" His eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Apprentice Gwyn," Greagoir said, "I do not recall asking you to join in the conversation."

"I'm sorry, Knight-Commander. I couldn't help- You mean that the Wardens can actually recruit mages like us into their ranks? I thought they had other mages. Wow!"

"You are not looking for a way out of here, are you, lad?" Greagoir turned to face Gwyn and crossed his arms.

"Greagoir," Irving protested. "How many times have you seen this one escape?" The Knight-Commander grunted.

"Can you imagine?" Gwyn said, looking away from his books. "Being a Grey Warden. That's beyond the stuff of legends!" Torrian looked at him across the table. He was helping Gwyn with his memorization of spells, now that his Harrowing was one week away. "It's everybody's dream, don't you agree?"

"Yes," Torrian said calmly.

"I thought you'd be more excited about it! You know, part of me would like to be there when the Wardens appear. They must be a majestic view."

"Not since they lost their Gryffons, no," Torrian chuckled.

"Unstoppable warriors, from all across the land!" Gwyn was too far gone to continue studying. He went on talking about the stories he had read, and Torrian looked at him with a smile on his face. He rested his head on his left hand and let him ramble. It was this kind of moment that he wanted to remember. Gwyn was always so restrained; he had such self-control that every time he found something he was passionate about, Torrian was just happy to sit back and listen. This time, however…

"Gwyn," Torrian leaned forward and extended his left hand, covering his companion's. Gwyn blushed –still, after all this time– and withdrew his hand, but looked at him attentively. Torrian's fingers drew circles on the table.

"Uh-oh," Gwyn said.

"What?"

"Every time you do that it's because something bad is going to happen. You did it the first time you kissed me as well."

"Well then, it wasn't entirely bad, was it?" He tried to laugh but failed. "There's something I must tell you."

"Just say it," Gwyn said, trying to control his voice.

"Irving has received a letter, announcing the visit of the Warden Commander to the Circle, in a week approximately."

Gwyn gasped. "The Warden Commander? What's his name? Will he be recruiting? Are you serious?" He sounded extremely excited.

Torrian smiled faintly. "I don't know his name. But Irving says that recruitment is probably what he has in mind. Gwyn," Torrian looked at his lover. "Irving wants to offer me as a recruit."

Gwyn's face lit up. "You? A Warden? Dear Maker, I can't believe it! Why aren't you more excited about it?" Why was Torrian so silent? And then it struck him. Those who became legends were the ones who died. Irving was sending him to the battlefield. Torrian was not a healer – he was a fighter. "No," Gwyn whispered. "No. Tell me you said no."

"I didn't say no," Torrian murmured. "It's about defending Ferelden. How could I say no, when we live here?"

"Greagoir said we were safe in here," Gwyn murmured.

"And what about your family?" Torrian said. "Do you think they'll be safe if the Darkspawn take over everything?"

Gwyn held the hand he had rejected before and looked into Torrian's eyes. "My family lives in a castle. They have an army. They are far up north. Nothing can happen to them. But you, you're my family now. Please, tell me you won't go."

"I've already given my word to Irving," Torrian says. "If the Warden finds me fitting, I'll go with him."

Gwyn looked down. "Will you stay until my Harrowing, at least?" His voice was a sad whisper.

"Yes," Torrian said, pressing his hand. "The Warden will come after that day, so I'll be here to see you become a mage."

Gwyn had been taken from his room in the middle of the night. He had been waiting for the Templars to come for him. Everything in the previous eight years had led to this moment. At the chamber, he could not help thinking that Irving and Greagoir sounded like an old couple, shushing each other when it came to revealing what he would face. But nothing mattered to him, other than the fountain that contained the lyrium that would send him into the Fade. He was ready.

The air had a sweet and musky scent. He remembered this place. Many years ago he had made the mistake of chasing after a figure. But nothing was real here, except for himself. The landscape was strange. Twisted. It reminded him of the shapes and forms that one normally saw while dreaming, except for the fact that he was fully awake. He was not really sure about what to do. He tried to take a few steps, and his body felt light. There was a light shining on top of a little hill.

As soon as he got closer, the light zapped him. A wisp. Gwyn felt the heat concentrating on his right palm. He snapped the fourth finger against the thumb and raised his left hand to augment his power. A light-blue bolt surged from him, making his arm tingle, and hit the wisp. The wraith was gone. Another wisp took over. Gwyn stretched his fingers and repeated his actions. The second wraith was dead too.

Is this all there is? Gwyn wondered. He walked over to where the remains of the wisps were lying. They had been protecting a small pouch, which contained one of those Elfroot potions Anders used to make. Gwyn pondered whether this was the real Fade, or if the mages had made up this place as some sort of training spot.

He saw a figure approaching. So, you must be another apprentice going through their Harrowing: thrown into the flames and left to burn.

"That I am," Gwyn said.

Tell me, apprentice: don't you think it would be better if you were pitted against other mages to prove your skill instead of being trapped here, until you kill or are killed by a demon?

"We mages are no warriors, spirit," Gwyn replied. "This is a test of will, not one of strength. Who are you?"

I am Valor, a warrior spirit, the figure said.

Gwyn watched him for a while. He looked around. They were on their own. "So you're the one I'm supposed to fight against," Gwyn asked, reading his fighting stance.

What makes you say that? the spirit asked.

"A'ruinn'abasch," Gwyn whispered. His hands glowed blue and he raised his left hand to direct the power against his target. It hit the spirit on the chest.

What nonsense is this, mortal? the spirit growled, adopting a defensive stance.

"Where is Justice?" Gwyn asked, feeling his right palm tingling with electricity. "Valor without Justice makes room for injustice; when on its own, it represents the supremacy of the strongest."

The spirit smiled at him. And you would believe what your spiritual leaders tell you. Have you no mind of your own? Have you no desire for freedom?

Gwyn laughed. "You're talking to the wrong mage, demon." He snapped his finger and thumb and shot a bolt towards the spirit, who was now starting to change its form.

There is no Justice here, the demon laughed. Justice is long gone from your realm, and so is Valor. There is only Need. Let us see if your will is as sharp as your tongue. And there it was: the beast he had faced so long ago. But there was no brother or sister to aid him today. He was on his own.

He ran backwards, never letting his target out of sight, but never looking at the demon in the eye. What was the point of training with staves if they were not allowed to use one here? And then he remembered: mages could will things into being. He wondered if that also applied to the Fade. He waved his hands, drawing a figure with his fingers and whispered, "Hal'rovaus." The demon lunged at him, but as soon as it crossed the glyph, it activated, trapping it for some seconds. Gwyn barely had time to draw another shape and whisper, "Sik'chere." The warding glyph shone bright under his feet. Think, think, think, he said to himself. Focus. He visualized the image of the staff he had worked with for years now, and felt the weight of it in his right hand.

You understand what Need is; I can see it. That is what I want, mortal, the demon said. You can do this here, and you can do this in your realm. Let me in, and I promise you that-

"One of your kind made the same offer a long time ago," Gwyn interrupted the demon. "And it died. Anything can die."

Ah, yes. The demon smiled, But can you kill anything? Its form changed and it turned into Torrian. "Gwyn," he called. "This can be over soon, if you wish it."

Gwyn clenched his teeth. It was not real. He was not there. "I wonder why mages ever fall for your tricks, demon," he said. "I can see your true form, even now."

The demon hissed and waved its hands. Gwyn's head was filled with images of faceless creatures, melting bodies, disfigured, bloodied. Focus! He shook his head and saw the demon waving its arms again. His legs felt weak and gave way. He fell backwards and felt a cold breeze coming from behind. A lyrium vein. He mustered his strength and reached out for the lyrium. He had never used it before, at least not in this form. A wild torrent of energy filled him up, and he turned around to face the demon once more. "E'puis'are," he whispered, draining the beast's mana. The demon fell to the floor and Gwyn swung the staff at its head, knocking it out. "A'ruinn'abasch," he whispered once more, and the body of the demon started fizzling until it disappeared with a blast.

Gwyn panted. His heart felt as if it wanted to escape through his mouth. He hit the staff against the floor.

What now, he thought. A moment later, the images of the Fade started swirling around him; a whirlpool of pale colours and a musky scent, and then it was over.

He opened his eyes. Neria was looking at him, her amber-coloured eyes searching for any sign of movement. She smiled at him and hugged him.

"You're alive! I was so scared! Does your head hurt?"

Gwyn rubbed his eyes. "Is it morning already?"

"Yes," she said. "They brought you in a couple of hours ago. Congratulations, dear. Was it difficult? Wait, you're not supposed to talk about that. The First Enchanter said that he wanted to talk with you as soon as you were ready. He's waiting for you."

Gwyn sat up. Jowan was looking at him from a distance. His eyes reflected a certain longing that Gwyn knew too well, but Jowan's was stained by envy. Gwyn understood. A younger apprentice had been deemed worthy of something he had been denied, in spite of having lived there for a longer time. Gwyn got up and Jowan left the room. Neria put a hand of Gwyn's shoulder.

"Let him be," she asked softly. "He's sad because his time hasn't come yet."

Gwyn looked at her. She was so sweet, so innocent. He hugged her.

"Please, take care of yourself," he whispered in her ear. He let go of her, gathered his things, and went over to the second floor.

He looked at his bed. It looked enormous, compared to the one he had had for years. But he remembered his life in Highever, and this seemed quite like the bed he had once known. There was a bookcase and a desk, and even though it was a dormitory, there was privacy for everybody there, thanks to the arrangement of the furniture. He put his few possessions on the shelf and took a closer look at his staff. Owain had made it for him. The Tranquil had given him the staff himself, and Gwyn wanted to think that he was proud of his work.

"Aunt Elissa," he called. Elissa turned around.

"Hello, Gwyn," she said.

"I've passed my Harrowing," he told her.

"Congratulations," she said, in the same tone. He walked towards her and hugged her. She did not put her arms around him, but she said, "I assume you are happy."

"I am. I just wanted to tell you about it."

"Thank you," she said. Gwyn smiled at her and left her alone.

The ceiling looked higher than ever before. The room was dark and cool. Gwyn lay on his back, watching. He was nervous. He pulled the blanket up to his nose and kept looking up, while his ears continued picking up on the new, strange sounds that-What was that. He heard muffled steps, and the soft rustling of a robe. He saw a dark figure appear at the foot of his bed. Torrian.

"What are you doing here? If the Templars catch you-"

Torrian moved closer. "They won't." He sat on the edge of the bed. Gwyn could not see his face, but his voice was expressive enough. "Congratulations on your Harrowing. I'm sorry I couldn't see you earlier, but Irving made me train harder today."

"It's fine," Gwyn smiled. He could not help but feel nervous. It was late. And for the first time in their lives, they were alone. He remembered all the times Torrian had teased him about being together, and his heart started to beat faster. He did not know how to do anything. He would not know what to do. He was not sure he wanted to do anything, either. But he thought of Torrian's feelings and needs. Should he say something?

By the time he had finished thinking about all that, Torrian had got into bed with him. He was not touching Gwyn. He was lying on his back, looking up, holding his companion's hand. For a long time, they kept that position. There were no words between them, only a nervous silence. Torrian turned towards Gwyn, lying on his side, and whispered, "I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?" Gwyn whispered back as he turned towards his lover.

"I thought that once I had you here… I don't know. That I'd instantly react and know what to do. But I have no idea." He stroked Gwyn's cheek and sighed.

"What do you want to do?" Gwyn asked, kissing Torrian's hand.

"I want to be with you. But perhaps, sleeping by your side is enough for us. At least enough for today."

Gwyn nodded and smiled. He moved his head closer to Torrian's and nuzzled him lovingly. He kissed him softly on the lips and Torrian sighed happily. Gwyn kissed him again, tentatively, cupping his lover's face with his right hand, his thumb stroking his jawline gently. Torrian accepted the kisses, but he was not returning them. Gwyn intensified the pressure on his lips and passed his fingers through Torrian's hair. Torrian quivered and suppressed a moan. Gwyn smiled and gave him a kiss with parted lips. Torrian used his left hand to pull Gwyn closer as they both melted in one long kiss. Their hands found each other's bodies, each other's skin. Sheltered by the quilt and the darkness of the room, they finally found each other, and there was nothing but love between them.

"The Grey Warden is here," Torrian told Gwyn a few days later.

Gwyn finished working with a potion and looked at him. "Are you going to show him your abilities today?"

"No, tomorrow. Apparently the Warden has separated from his group and decided to spend the night here."

"They should take Anders with them," Gwyn said. He stopped. "They should take Anders! He's a good healer, and it's his chance to be outside!"

"Anders would run away as soon as he's out of here, you know that."

"Do you think he would ignore the- Forget I said anything. Yes, he would," Gwyn sighed. "I'm sorry, it's just… You know how I feel about this."

"I know, yes. In other news, Neria passed her Harrowing."

"I thought it was supposed to be next week?"

"No, they found a stash of lyrium in a Templar area, and to avoid the embarrassment, Greagoir ordered that they put one of us through the Harrowing."

"Not Jowan?"

"Neria's better, you know that. I saw her just now, coming out of the chapel."

"That's odd. She never goes there."

"She was busy, but she said she would stop by. Her room is on the other side of the floor, with the women."

"I'm glad for her," Gwyn smiled. "She is so clever and nice."

"Reminds me of someone," Torrian whispered in Gwyn's ear. Gwyn chuckled.

"Ah, and here he is," they heard Irving's voice at the door. "And in good company, as usual," Irving smiled at Gwyn.

"First Enchanter," Gwyn bowed. He looked at Irving's companion. Tall, dark, handsome. He was younger than he expected. He was armed.

"Pleased to meet you," the Warden Commander said. His voice was pleasant. Deep and kind. Gwyn and Torrian nodded in deference. "My name's Duncan, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden." He looked at Gwyn, who was barely restraining himself from cheering. "I understand you're a healer?"

"I am, yes!" Gwyn exclaimed. "I specialize in the schools of creation and spirit."

"I don't know much of the schools of magic, I'm afraid," Duncan apologized.

"Oh, don't worry! The only thing you have to know is that I'm good to have around. I am one of Senior Enchanter Wynne's apprentices."

"Ah, Wynne, yes. Wait. Are you the one who's always running away or the Cousland?"

Gwyn froze. Torrian spoke for him. "We don't use our family names here. But he's not the one who runs away, trust me."

"And you are Torrian, right? Irving has spoken highly of you. Are you a healer as well?"

"No, I specialize in primal and entropy spells. Fire and ice are my spells of choice, but I'm also partial to paralysis and disorienting spells."

"Both of you sound like you'd be interesting additions to our ranks," Duncan said, impressed. "And you complement each other as well, because from what I've heard, you work on different schools." Gwyn and Torrian smiled at each other.

"It's a pity that you won't be able to have them, Commander," Greagoir's voice came from behind.

"Surely you understand what kind of situation we're facing, Knight-Commander," Duncan said gently.

"There's no need for us to bicker in front of our new brothers, is there?" Irving sighed. "Come, gentlemen. Let's adjourn to my study room."

Finn came running towards the library. "She's been expelled! Neria's been expelled!"

Gwyn closed his book and ran towards the gates of the Circle, where many students had gathered. He found Torrian standing next to Neria and Duncan. Greagoir and Irving were arguing about something, and there were some Templars restraining the small group of onlookers. Duncan said something, but Gwyn was not able to hear him, since the apprentices and the mages were murmuring, and he saw Torrian hugging Neria, who was crying. Duncan turned to her and she nodded, and the two of them walked towards the gates, leaving together.

Torrian spotted Gwyn and ran towards him. He took him to the side. "Jowan… He stole his phylactery. He persuaded Neria to help him. He attacked them, with blood magic, and escaped."

Gwyn felt sick. He could have said something and prevented this from happening.

"He was in a relationship with a Chantry sister. She's been taken to Aeonar."

Had it been his fault?

"I asked Duncan to take her," Torrian said. "I gave up my spot. I didn't want her to be taken to Aeonar as well. It was the only way to save her."

They lay in bed, together. Torrian had fallen asleep long ago, but Gwyn remained awake. He could not stop thinking about Neria and Jowan. She had always been good. Too good. And Jowan; he had seen that. He had taken advantage of her nature. Gwyn wanted to hate him, but he could not do it.

Had it not been for Jowan, he would have been sleeping alone that night, and he was not willing to let go of Torrian.

No matter what it took, he would preserve what they had.

.

Next chapter: Dairren