"Welcome to the Circle's stockroom of magical items. My name is Owain. How may I assist you?" he said in the same chilling monotone that all the tranquil spoke with.

"Hi, Owain," Niall replied, "I'm looking for a cowl with an enchantment I read about. The catalogues said we had one named 'Toque of the Oblivious'. I have no idea what that name means but -," he cut off his own rambling, "Anyway, yes, I want to check if we have that - Please." he added as an afterthought. It was all too easy to be rude to the tranquil, he made a conscious effort not to be.

"I cannot release the item without a signed permission form from a senior enchanter."

"Yes, I know. I just need to check if it's there."

It was. Buried at the bottom of a storage chest and probably long forgotten about. The research potential had Niall's mind whirring as he found a space in the library to work. By now Leorah, his impending promotion, the strange Ferelden solider in the tower – all of it had been pushed from his mind as he started to scribble out the first draft of a research proposal.

He knew he had to be careful. Officially, his area of study was Mental Resistance to Entropy Magic. What went unspoken though, were the secondary applications of his work – blood magic. That's what the templars were thinking when they paid extra attention to which books he was reading. That's what Irving was thinking when he pulled Niall in for twice as many informal reviews as anyone else.

Niall was no blood mage. It wasn't necessary. Adralla of Vyrantium was said to have studied resistance to blood magic her whole life without ever using it to cast a single spell. But that didn't stop suspicions falling on him all too frequently.

"Afternoon."

Niall's train of thought was interrupted by Senior Enchanter Torrin looming over his desk.

"Hi." Niall put down his quill, managing to leave an impressive ink smudge over the last thing he'd written.

"I haven't seen much of you today." There was an obvious question implied. Where have you been? The Senior Enchanter had a well-earned reputation as a stickler. Not even Niall's occasional midnight visits to the man's personal quarters meant he was cut any slack when it came to his work.

"I took a detour to see the First Enchanter." Niall said, conveniently omitting any reference to having only gotten up at midday. "But -," he prepared to redeem himself in his supervisor's eyes, "I think I've got something interesting. Actually, I need you to sign this." Niall shuffled around the various parchments on his desk until he found the stockroom permission form.

Torrin raised an eyebrow, "You know I won't sign a thing without seeing a research proposal."

Niall just grinned. He really should have expected that. He felt a pang of pity for the apprentices who were subjected to Torrin's icy, disapproving glare. That would have petrified him when he was younger. Now though – if he was being honest with himself – Niall quite enjoyed it.

"That's what I'm working on."

Torrin gave a slight nod of approval that sent the tiniest, pleasant shiver down Niall's spine. He decided to take a chance,

"If you like, I could come by tonight and show it to you?" he hoped the blindingly obvious, flirtatious double meaning wasn't lost on Torrin.

He knew it was a longshot, the other man was not exactly the spontaneous type. Whenever they met up, whether for personal or professional reasons, Torrin always confirmed the time and place at least twice, and at least two days in advance.

"Yes." he responded quickly enough that Niall suspected if he'd paused, he'd have talked himself out of it.

"Great. I'll see you later then."

Niall picked his quill back up but Torrin lingered.

"Aren't you coming now?" Niall looked blank "to Evening Chant?" he elaborated.

"Oh -," He should go. He knew he really should go. But he was on a roll with his work. And he really did want to finish it tonight. He'd go tomorrow. "No – I think I'll stay here."

With unspoken disapproval, Torrin left and Niall return to his work.

The room dimmed gradually as the candles burnt down around him, but Niall's concentration didn't break. Practically the entire tower went to the evening chant and Niall found the eerie stillness of the library strangle appealing. It was part of the reason he skipped it so often, it was the same reason he would sometimes risk wandering around the tower at night – in those moments, he felt as though he were the only man in Thedas.

His isolationist daydream was interrupted when another man strode into the room. A man who was skipping the evening chant for an entirely different set of reasons.

Everyone in the tower could recognise the Senior Enchanters, but as far as Niall knew, Uldred had no reason to recognise him. Which made it all the more disquieting when the mage walked straight over and addressed him by name,

"Evening good, Niall."

"Evening Uldred, er, Senior Enchanter."

The right side of the man's mouth curled into a faint smirk, "Uldred is more than fine."

"Right. Uldred. Evening." Niall repeated obediently.

"I was speaking to our Ferelden soldier guest just now. Ser Cauthrien – interesting woman. She mentioned you and she spoke earlier - about me apparently." his tone was so even it almost mimicked the tranquil. One half Niall's mind tried to decipher whether Uldred sounded annoyed, while the other half scrambled to recall what it was he'd said to Cauthrien.

"Don't look so worried, my boy. If anything, I was flattered. Perhaps even grateful. We'll see about that though." Niall got the sense that Uldred have veered off into talking more to himself than anything else.

"I should get on with this." he gestured vaguely at his work.

"Of course." Uldred took his leave.

-o0o-

By the time he crossed the final 't' on the final draft of his proposal, Niall was struggling to keep his eyes open. He carefully pushed all his pages into a pile, tied some string around the bundle, blew out his one remaining candle, and finally left the library.

A few hours ago, the prospect of sex had been a pleasant incentive to finish his work. Now – he was too exhausted to muster anything resembling enthusiasm. He knocked three times on Torrin's door.

"Niall?" Torrin yawned as he opened the door. His eyes were only half open and Niall had just enough energy to make a mental note to take the piss out of the ridiculous night cap he was wearing tomorrow.

"What time is it? I assumed you weren't coming." his voice was hoarse.

"Sorry for waking you – I didn't realise how late it was."

"Have you been working all night." Torrin eyed the bundle of parchment tucked under Niall's arm.

Niall nodded and took a step forward.

"You can't be serious." a rare, soft smile appeared on Torrin's face, "You are going no where except straight to sleep. Although," he held out his arms, "give me that. I imagine by the time you've finally risen tomorrow, I'll have had chance to look over it."

Niall made no arguments, just handed over the work – slightly relieved. Trust overworking to the point of exhaustion to be the thing Torrin found endearing.

Niall meandered back but as he reached his quarters something caught his eye. There was a torn piece parchment half-slipped beneath his door. On the ground next to it was the copy of 'A Defense Against Dreamwalkers' that he'd returned to the library earlier. Except, he now realised, he hadn't actually returned it – he'd left it on some desk when he was speaking to Leorah. Chances were, the note was from one of the tranquil librarians asking him to be more careful with the books.

He lit a candle and as his eyes re-adjusted to the light, he tried to decipher what the note said. Whoever had written it, their penmanship needed work.

I believe you left this in the library. Fascinating subject matter – as is your work. I would very much like to discuss it with you.

I am holding a small gathering tomorrow night for some friends – you would be most welcome to join us.

-U

He flipped the note over to find a scribbled diagram that vaguely resembled a map of the tower. There was location marked on it.

For a few moments, Niall just stared at the note in his hand. He knew it came from Uldred, he didn't even entertain the idea that it might have been sent by anyone else. Why attached the note to the book? Presumably he'd meant it as some kind of message – but what? Surely Uldred didn't believe Niall could be dabbling in blood magic?

He sighed. So, it wasn't enough to constantly overhear the Circle's nefarious goings-on, now he was being invited to partake in them. He was too tired to think any more about it tonight. He blew out his candle and collapsed onto his bed, falling asleep almost instantly.

-o0o-

By the time Niall made it back to the library the next day, Torrin was already waiting for him.

"I took the liberty of checking out the enchanted cowl already." Torrin brandished the thing in his hand. Without so much as a 'Good morning, the man was off. "I booked out a private study room to get started on your plan. Very well-written proposal, I applaud you. Although your spelling is atrocious. But that isn't a pressing matter right now. Shall we." Torrin started striding, presumably towards the aforementioned study room.

Only the senior enchanters were allowed to authorise use of the private rooms, so in that sense Niall was lucky to have Torrin's enthusiastic support. However, he had a foreboding sense that he was in for quite a trying day. Once he stepped into the study room, he couldn't see himself leaving until after dark. Not ideal, since he still needed to speak to Irving. On the other hand, it did solve his little Uldred dilemma. He hadn't seriously been considering going to this 'gathering', whatever it was. Except he was afflicted with a morbid curiosity to see what entailed. But no, he was working, he couldn't go. A problem ignored was a problem solved. It wasn't even worth mentioning the note to Torrin, he decided, and resolved to think no more about it.

The room he was led to was barely larger than a stock cupboard. In the corner was a small end table holding a rack of lyrium vials surrounded by the familiar soft-blue glow.

Being a mage involved suffering a lot of indignities but none were quite as undignified as the wearing of those hideous enchanted cowls. The one Torrin handed him was no exception. Even the usually stoic senior enchanter had taken one look a Niall with the golden strap around his chin, and bright red conical protrusion on top of his head topped by a cluster of feathers – and barked out a laugh.

"Oh, be quiet," Niall grumbled, "It's no worse that your hideous sleeping hat last night with the fluffy bauble on the end."

Torrin cleared his throat, he found any reference to their nocturnal personal relationship completely inappropriate during working hours. He pointedly ignored Niall's comment.

"I think I understood your plans from what I read – but do explain it."

"Right, well,-" he took a moment to gather his thoughts. "First thing I need to do is to test the strength of the mental resistance enchantment on the cowl -,"

"Which," Torrin interrupted, "involves someone – me – hurling entropy spells at you while you try to block them."

"Essentially, yes."

It was simple enough. Their next few hours were spent casting various sleeping spells. They started with weak ones, planning on taking painstakingly detailed notes of every spell's every effect. But it didn't work because each time their notes said the same thing – spell ineffective.

Finally, Torrin gulped down an entire vial of lyrium, drawing on his deepest mana reserves and cast the strongest sleep spell he was capable of.

"Still nothing." Niall said, sounding apologetic for not even feeling the urge to yawn. They were both drained and frustrated at getting nowhere.

"Perhaps you're natural resistance is already too high – should we switch?"

"I don't think that's the problem." Niall said. He paused, he'd considered this possibility but he'd hoped he wouldn't have to make the suggestion he was about to.

"We need a stronger spell."

"No." Torrin replied immediately, "Anything stronger - those are not spells to use lightly."

"But we're not getting anywhere like this."

"Yes, I'm well aware of that." he snapped. "Apologies. But no. Entropy magic is dangerous – anything stronger would be-."

"I'll be fine. You know what you're doing." Niall surprised himself with how certain he sounded. "Horror. Cast it. With the cowl, I'll resist."

Torrin looked reluctant but he couldn't argue that they were going to need something stronger if they wanted to make any progress at all. Feeling guilty, and not quite meeting Niall's eye, he cast a relatively weak Horror spell.

"Nothing." said Niall, "You need to go stronger."

Torrin took the smallest sip of lyrium and tried again, harder this time.

Niall fell to his knees. His breathing quickened as he saw a flash of darkness behind his eyes. But the effects wore off instantaneously and he got back to his feet.

"Right, now we're getting somewhere."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Again."

They continued for a while. Gradually increasing the strength of the spell. But as they did, so increased Niall's ability to resist. By the time they worked up to twice as strong as the spell that had initially sent Niall to his knees - he could barely feel it.

"We need to go stronger." Niall said.

"I'll be addled like a retired templar if I drink much more lyrium."

"Well a stronger spell then." He paused, unsure if what he was about to suggest was really the best idea. "What about Waking Nightmare?"

He'd expected the other mage to protest but instead he went silent. Mulling it over. They had been fine with Horror but that was a spell he was practiced with.

"I've never cast Waking Nightmare before."

"But – you could?" Niall pushed tentatively.

"I could."

"Let's try it."

Torrin nodded. They both stood squarely facing each other, an arms distance apart. Niall met his gaze and smiled ever so slightly. He meant it as a reassurance I trust you.

There was no darkness this time, only a blinding light and Niall let out a piercing scream as he felt his eyes burn. He felt them melting inside his skull. He couldn't think. Couldn't remember where he was. He just knew he needed to get out.

He saw a Templar appear at the end of his bed. He felt another one grab him from behind and force something into his mouth. Gagging him. He couldn't breathe. He tried to struggle but he couldn't move. The templar's arm was around his neck as the other one grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him onto the floor.

His whole body felt ice cold. Was he frozen? He tried to move, to kick, but his body wasn't responding.

"This is the one that couldn't even manage casting Winter's Grasp."

He heard a laugh so loud it made his ears ring as the shrill sound started to echo around the inside of his head.

"I think we'll see a head roll tonight, boys."

He struggled harder. Managing to get to his feet. He grasped the dagger in his hand and raised it above his head –

"Niall!"

Torrin's scream brought him back to reality. The other mage was gripping his wrist, stopping Niall from plunging a piece of broken glass into him. It took him a second to realise he was bleeding, clutching a shard from a smashed lyrium vial.

"Maker." Niall's legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to the floor, "I'm – Torrin, I'm so sorry. I -," he was shaking violently.

Torrin knelt down next to him, and examined his cut. "It's me who should be apologising. I shouldn't have – this was highly – this was dangerous." He was trying hard to keep his voice steady.

"Did I -,"

"You're cut doesn't look to bad. Can you managed to clean it up yourself?" Niall nodded, "Good. I'll speak to Irving about assigning you a new supervisor. I am very sorry."

Torrin scarpered out of the door, leaving Niall on the floor. Once the man was out of sight Niall pulled his knees into his chest and let out a sob that wracked through his whole body.

o0o-

Niall had been sitting on the edge of his bed for hours. He'd stopped shaking by now but he still didn't feel right. Of course, he knew exactly what he should do. He should drink some herbal tea, think pleasant thoughts, and go to bed. That was the sensible thing to do. But his mind was still racing.

Plus, he also knew what he risked by going to sleep – by dreaming – in this heightened emotional state. He'd be too vulnerable.

Staring at the walls of his quarters would only make it worse. Going back to Torrin would make him look weak – plus the man had left so abruptly Niall had no idea where they stood now. Maker, he needed a drink. A distraction.

Right now, the company of other mages, however dangerous, was preferable to closing his eyes and risking attracting every demon in the vicinity. So, Niall picked up Uldred's scrawled note and headed to the location it showed.