Florien gasped for air, fingers reaching out for a boy who wasn't there. A cry was choked back, it was still too early for the other apprentices to wake up and he didn't want the Templars coming in swords drawn because he'd once again had a nightmare. Sliding out of his bed, his bare feet hit the cold stone floor and he shivered as it raced through his body. No more sleep for him, he couldn't go back to watching that scene, he couldn't keep watching the other boy being tortured. His own memories of a time not too long ago, when whips had kissed his back and opened him up making him bleed, echoed in his head. The healers at the tower said he'd always have scars there, that they could do nothing to soften them or make them go away.

Slipping his robes on and fastening the buckles around his waist Florien slipped the two daggers he had pilfered from the kitchen into the hiding places his mother had taught him to. Putting on his slippers and finishing up his daily ritual of getting dressed and ready, Florien slipped out of the apprentice quarters and went to the library. He smiled at a few of the Templars as he passed, feeling on edge as he felt their eyes following him.

When he got to the library he saw a familiar figure. The dark shaggy hair, the slight slump of the shulders and the pale skin. It could only be one person. Relief washed through him, he had thought he would have to wait til breakfast to see Jowan. Silently running over to his friend he grabbed the sleeve of his robe and tugged, making Jowan face him.

"Jowan I had a dream again last night."

Florien shifted from foot to foot, faintly distressed and entirely embarrassed. The ribbon that held his hair from his face was tied into a pretty bow. He fiddled with the end of the ribbon as he waited for his friend's sage advice as to what exactly he should do what these dreams could mean. Jowan was the only apprentice who had befriended him, he was the only apprentice who seemed to know more about the going ons at the circle than anyone else. Jowan didn't care about any of the things that made Florien different, and Florien loved him for it. Everyone else thought he was the 'snooty Orleasian knife-ear', they liked the other elves just fine, it was just the fact he wasn't Fereldan made everyone else wary of him.

"I've heard of mages who can see the future and even see things that are happening right now. It's a rare gift though Flor, and the Chantry says it's a sign that a mage could fall into Blood Magic. Seeing what's ahead or seeing something remotely, it's supposedly not of the Maker. You've got to keep this a secret. I don't want you hurt." Jowan took a tendril of Florien's hair, marveling at how soft it was, how the color was like that of roses and blood. Florien wasn't like the rest of them, anyone with eyes could see it. It wasn't even that his friend wore female apprentice robes either. It was something different. "You're my best friend, we've got to look out for each other."

"What of him Jowan? What of the boy, he…Maker they were torturing him!" Florien's voice rose in pitch, tears filling his eyes as his hands moved. Florien always moved his hands while he talked, they were graceful and slender, good for so many things especially making spells or chopping ingredients for potions. His heart was aching, he felt so connected to the boy, he knew his pain. He could see the anguished look in the other elf's eyes in his mind, he could see the fury and the defeat when men took a pair of gloves from him. "They took something from him and punished him, he was bleeding so badly…" A hiccupping sob escaped from Florien as the nine year old boy rubbed at his eyes, relaxing into Jowan's arms when his friend enveloped him in a hug.

"He'll survive Flor, he'll live. Now come, you need to dry your eyes and smile again. We don't want the Templars wondering what's got you in a fit. Shh now that's a good. Yes there and all you need to top it off is this." Florien closed his eyes and relaxed even more when Jowan's lips brushed against his forehead. He knew Jowan would always be there, would always make him smile and soothe his fears. The human boy loved Florien like a sibling, a little 'sister' to play with, to protect, to tease, to love. Florien was Jowan's, no one would argue with that, save perhaps the First Enchanter who could just as easily get Florien to smile.

Florien's smile had been so rare those first few months he'd come to the Tower. Jowan could remember how utterly sad he'd looked, how there was such sadness and suffering in those big golden eyes. He had wanted to fix that. The other apprentices were bastards in his head for not seeing how hurt the little elf was, nothing good had happened to him to bring him to the tower. Jowan wasn't stupid, he knew those scars on the elf's back had been fresh. They were years old, they were weeks, maybe months at best. Also the boy had lost someone important, his mother. Jowan had pried it from Florien one night when the young elf had been crying softly in the apprentice quarters. His mother was dead and Florien wanted something, anything he could to remind himself of her so he dressed like her hoping one day when he grew up when he looked into the mirror he would see her face looking back at him.

Jowan knew Florien did his best to emulate his mother. She had been a Bard? Yes that is what Florien had called her. Florien told him stories, of legends, of far off places Florien could barely remember but spoke of anyway, of people and things. Jowan soaked it up like a sponge, listening with fascination as the young elf wove stories like a master. There were other things too Florien tried to do that Bards were supposed to, like sneaking around on quiet feet, of listening for secrets, and picking locks. They were also supposed to look pretty. Jowan knew Florien had the last part down pat, no one could deny that Florien was the prettiest apprentice they had.

"Now come on over here and let me teach you this spell I just learned it's called Winter's Grasp." Florien knew that Jowan was trying to distract him, and he knew that as always it would work. He was advanced for his age in the realm of magic, partially because he was a quick learner and partially because Jowan's favorite method of cheering Florien up, or distracting him, was to teach the younger apprentice something, anything about magic. It was fulfilling seeing the look of concentration and joy on Florien's face when he mastered new spells.

A warm feeling eased inside Jowan's heart. He knew it was love, Florien could inspire that in anyone who he focused his attention on. He could charm even the Templars with that wide almost shy smile and infectious laugh. If everyone else just gave him the chance they'd see, like he and Irving did the truth about Florien Surana.

He was the Maker's gift to man.