AN: Still in Origins but setting up for the coming chaos in DA2 is fun. I think next chapter will have a familiar hairless apostate in the Fade. I've only got vague plans for this story so it's interesting seeing how all of a sudden the relationships are being written in a way I wouldn't have planned. Gregoire in DAO though was surprisingly mellow compared to not only Meredith but ALL templars save Cullen and a few others come DA2? Holy moly they are nuts.

()()()()()()()()()()()

Ever did the tower that kept the circle of magi snug within it's grasp remain unchanging. They moved to the small boats quietly, Surana, Wynne, Alistair, and Saeris. In the presence of two Gray Warden's the twiceblooded woman prayed not to be held once more under the whims of Templar's. Her hand sought out and clasped Wynne's tightly, as she did not usually do. But right now, her face paint was removed, her hair pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck with the braids and adornments twisted to hide within it. She looked more 'normal' than when she had left the tower but a month and a half or two prior. It was a facade, one that now Surana and Wynne knew to be there. Panic seemed to claw at her back urging her to shift and run fast before they landed. Before the Templar's may circle them and her brief days of freedom be snatched away.

The scent of sandalwood and fern with jasmine made her take a deep breath though, the oil on her temples, down the back of her neck and anointing her wrists. Ones to help keep her wits about her and her instincts firmly under control. She was grateful for Flemeth's aid, because just out of hearing range were screams and calls from the nightmares that had taken place here and it was a dangerous thing for a dreamer. The ground still was soaked in the pervasive sense of loss and despair but it was wispier than when she had left.

"It'll be all right dear." Wynne tried to reassure the younger sorceress. Truly, compared to the laughing and playful creature she had gotten to know out battling the darkspawn and aiding the Warden's it was wrong to see her so diminished now. To know that all along that quiet soul she had thought to be shy and perhaps a bit socially inept had been terrified and caged pacing along the bars. Seeking comfort in books and healing not just because of a love of them -though it was there- but because the Templar's terrified her. That she had experienced a smiting young enough and strongly enough to not risk it happening again. It happened at times, though that the girl had hidden amongst the Tranquil and made herself seem harmless had been likely her own saving from being sent to the Rite herself. For those whose connection to the Fade was greatest, whom did not seek healing as their forte only as Wynne had, often were not given the chance to become a risk.

And Wynne had witnessed the storms that Saeris called down with as little effort as she herself drew on the cantrips of creation. There were storm mages aplenty but they were considered a double edged sword the Templar's cracked down on harshly. But Saeris? She turned spells that had no storm aspect and created them. She'd made earth based magics meant to be a stone fist into a sand storm that had shredded their enemies apart down to the bone. Had firestorms that blazed around her as easily as breathing, and the electricity that sparked along her fingers and hair, that turned the air to the distinctive scent of ozone when she became excited?

Perhaps it was there, that the Templar's had found comfort for they created such a scent after years of lyrium, and it was almost always hovering around Saeris slightly. Her ordeal with the werewolf curse had been painful to witness but Wynne had never blessed the ability to change ones shape until she watched as at least one of her little charges on this quest had been able to cease their screaming. To know as they left with the hound following them that if pained, she was not crying until her throat was raw and scratching at her skin until her nails bled as the elves in the camp had.

So Wynne pulled Saeris close under her arm as they looked upon the tower. "It'll be fine dear. Remember all the times Ser Gregoire humored your questions, and when Cullen and Thomas helped you get books out of your reach? Remember the good times. Focus there." As Wynne reminded her she saw the deep breath in, the hold, and the nod as Saeris let it out. So far had the girl come but she was young yet, even if her eyes and powers were that of mages many times her age. "Worst case scenario, our Warden's can just threaten to conscript us."

It was a bad joke but made Saeris chuckle and the tension ease a little more.

"Honestly I can relate. I had not realized how freeing it could be to travel without a guard and set scheduling to be maintained at all costs. It is..an experience I will be sad to put aside. I am old enough to go where the circle feels I am most needed, you? Perhaps no one will miss one small woman who can hide as a dog. Fereldan after all, is full of them."

"Do you know where we would find ..where our phylactery are sent?" Saeris whispered softly, and those citrine eyes locked on Wynne's unblinking. The dangerous gaze of a hound with a scent trail but Wynne understood the real question. 'Will you help us?' That she trusted her enough to ask made the old healer soften even further. Ours. Of course, Surana.

"Hm. Records are usually kept in the Tranquil's care. Considering the nature of our quest, perhaps if I gave you permission to see if there are any other..known mages out there under permission whom we should approach with these treaties?"

A feral grin was her answer, one that was too big and childish for the woman she'd been fighting beside.

"Thank you, Wynne."

"You are my apprentice girl. I intend to make record of it formally while we are here as you are at least staying devoted to your studies. You should bring all of your notes up till this time along, we can make the men help carry it. A crate or two could be packed and sent to Redcliffe as well since we'll be staying there between journeys on the Bann's insistence while we tray to find a cure for the Arl once this mess with the boy is handled.." An excuse for her to bring anything she would not wish to stay behind. Or to arrange for it to be sent along.

Saeris was grateful but she fully intended to pare down her things so that almost all of them could travel with her. It was time she lived ready to step away the moment the quest was done and take nothing she couldn't carry. With the shift in how to store things in the Fade it gave her some room, but not too much. Anything that stayed in the Fade too long a time would not be able to come back out of it so it was more a less than a few hours thing. Impractical for anything but handy enough for the books she did not wish to lose. There were far more terrible things to keep in your own part of the other realm than libraries and since as a dreamer the Fade was different everywhere, but she could bring back into reality her own creations. It was just a matter of thinking like how the spirits did, as Valor had taught her. Judging from the way Flemeth had seemed baffled when Saeris had attempted to explain it, she didn't think that was normal.

Reuniting with the Templar's went of course, smoothly. Ser Gregoire expressed pleasure at the progress the Warden's were already making and highly approved of Surana coming to get Lyrium and mages instead of permitting Jowan to utilize his rite. Also that Surana had found a missing apostate for them went a great deal of the way to allay their suspicions in general. It didn't take long for Surana to accept the offer of their staying the night, real beds did a great deal for ones mood. In the interim Alistair went to talk to the Templar's, Wynne to restock, Surana to ask Irving for any advice on useful spells. Though she dearly wished to sleep early and visit with Valor, Saeris did not dare wait to find the records.

Sure enough as she was combing through the legitimate reason to be there -seeking mages out on license who may aid their cause- Ser Gregoire approached her.

"You have been doing well, out there I see. I am glad of it." The honesty in his voice prevented Saeris from panicking as she looked up. The wan smile, the greater amount of silver in his hair. Wynne is right. Despite all he can do Ser Gregoire had never been the one to use a Templar's abilities on her. Indeed he had told her tales of his own youth and vigils, the long hours and reasons he had to fear mages. From what she's learned speaking with Flemeth, the hold he keeps on his templar's is a short leash and the mages may be in a gilded cage but it is a cage and not say, the Kirkwall gallows.

She cannot fault him his fears having her own.

"The world is vast, and I am but a small creature." She nods with a smile. Ser Gregoire chuckles and goes to sit beside her, lumbering in his armor but perched on a crate. "I'm glad you returned. Oh don't look away. I'm no fool, Saeris. You've been good, very good indeed, but I've been at this longer than you've yet lived. I know the way a mage looks when they wish to turn apostate. Talk to me."

"Here?"

"Yes. The Tranquil will not tell and who else would come? Now in my office there would either be sordid rumors or the mess with the boys all on edge. I did say you could always come to me, did I not, years ago?"

So caught up in her rushing blood and the freedom, the determination and the feelings of being competent and powerful as she has lately, Wynne's advice is all the more poignant. Looking up at him she nods, shamefaced. "Forgive me.."

"That I will not do, there is nothing to forgive. You came from the Chasind and the Dalish though I've never told what my men did when they found you. Two peoples known for their stubborn and wild nature. Rumor even says you're traveling with a Witch of the Wilds. If the worst influence she's given you is to want to see the world and be cautious, well, would that more mages had such vices." And it is in his patient nature, the way he sits. Before he comes to a realization. "Surana and the boy, Alistair, you know he was going to be a Templar once? He could have even been here with the rest of us..they told you I was going to call for the Rite of Annulment.."

Saeris shudders but that panic in the back of her mind, the final reason she'd felt she couldn't trust the aged templar is finally voiced and she has to acknowledge the feeling of betrayal. Voice it. "I was hiding, tucked in my room and terrified. I wouldn't have known until they came to kill me."

"..and I'm sorry." Ser Gregoire says hoarsely. "When Surana and those with him offered to try and save the mages though? I could do no less than hope. I lead the men in prayer and it was all I could do to beg Andraste that you had escaped their clutches, had not been driven to such an act. The idea cut me to the quick, Saeris."

"I fought some of them off."

"Fought?"

"Um. They didn't expect me to actually strike at them with my dagger."

"The tiny thing you used to help Ren prepare the chickens for the kitchen? That?" But it is with a large smile growing that Gregoire laughed and shook his head. "You're a good gi..no, a good woman, Saeris. So I'm willing to make you a deal as long as you never repeat it."

Hope flutters in her breast and it is all those years of shakey trust, going to Gregoire even when scared with another book, praying he wouldn't learn what she really could do, wanted to learn to cast, upon which her tongue is held still.

"You return to the circle when this mess with the blight is over, you come back and willingly..and I'll let you go again. I'll personally sign the writ giving you permission to seek out whatever you want as long as you do two things, you send word of any apostate that makes you concerned of what they are up to. I'm not so foolish as to think you'd turn in all of them. And you consent to telling me about where the witch Flemeth is hiding."

Saeris cocks her head, an influence of her other form and thinks carefully. What she's being offered is still shackles but she'd hold her own leash. It's not all that she wants and she won't abandon her other plans to destroy her phylactery or stay out of the grasp but...

But.

Is there any other you trust? Flemeth's words ring in her head. Not fully, but she is fond of Gregoire. How strange it is to view him almost as the fatherly figure she lost but not trust him. And by the end of this Flemeth is likely to be 'dead' at Morrigan's hands, and flee her domicile so giving the location especially if she clears it out first, is not exactly a problem.

"Okay."

Gregoire nods. "You of course, also are not to learn blood magic or any other foul ones."

Honesty spurs her to confess, blurting "I can become a dog."

There's a heavy silence before he snorts, the shaking of his head set off by the wry smile. "You know, I'm oddly not surprised..just a dog?"

"I came from the dog clan." Because the last thing Saeris is going to do is explain that the famed Flemeth of the Kocari Wilds told her not to take another shape.

"...there's worse things. Do avoid them." But the Fereldan in Gregoire rears up and with a smile he clears his throat. "Don't suppose you'd let me see?"

Suspicious, yet, what is this if not trust at this point? And so with a twist of her powers there is then a large twiceblooded hound upon the chair, paws up on the small desk. It makes the templar laugh and reach over to pat her head. He is careful the plates of his metal gloves do not catch in her fur though and so she tolerates it if snorting out a breath from the inevitability of showing a dog to a Fereldan. It could be worse. Alistair still tries to treat her like she's Barkspawn and the Mabari has a distinctly canine smile of amusement watching her shy away from the contact. She is based on a wild breed after all.

"Of course, you're all fluff. Will you consent to sending word of anything alarming you run across, even if your lot deals with the problem so I may investigate later?"

Saeris is impressed at how he's forgiving her shapeshifting in the clear light of getting her to help with the rumors he would spend hours sending men out to track down otherwise. Already this is fair, more than fair, and far more than she had expected. Shifting back, and looking befuddled as Gregoire just musses her hair up as though she was either still a hound or a little child once more she nods.

"Not all of us fear magic, Saeris. We just fear those of weak hearts and minds who have such powers that are gift and curse both. You proved yourself to me years ago, when you kept silent about the harrowing. When you came forward about Jowan. Don't break this trust, please. It's been..good..to know there's a young mage who deserves it out there instead of just the old ones like Irving and Wynne and myself. Seeing and hearing you following my directives may also help heal those young templar's so they do not start to hate all mages wrongfully, after the...disaster that befell us."

As Saeris watches Ser Gregoire walk away it's a strange feeling in her stomach, like bubbles of ale drank too swiftly.

Maybe not all the changes that have come from the Lady's work have been bad, it almost felt like..she could scent the honesty on him. A clean feeling on her tongue, and if so, a skill she shall need to work on honing. She has Zevran in the party, she can make a game of it.

When finally she's certain she is alone once more save for the traquil puttering nearby and ignoring her, Saeris pulls out the paper hidden under the desk with a bit of a sticking goo meant to hold pages steady while transcribing them, until she'd been 'checked on' she didn't wish to risk being caught with it out.

Three lines are what she cares about and in her own neat handwriting is the notes she's pulled from the records. The location of their phylactery's. It seems there's a cycle of when and where they go that she's worked out from the timing of when each of them had taken their Harrowing. Most common is Denerim or Redcliffe, though there were several entries at Lothering that have now been sent on to a chantry in Highever.

Wynne -Whitespire.

Surana- Denerim Chantry.

Saeris- Denerim Chantry.

Amell- Redcliffe Chantry.

Well. They were going to Denerim eventually anyways, weren't they? Now, her best bet is not Zevran, but to see if Leliana would be amicable. It seems she needs to spend more time with her fellow red head.

()()()()()()()()()()

Sleep that evening is a matter of setting her head down, so eager is she to behold Valor, perhaps the last time she will do so. For Gregoire asked her to return to the circle not stay when she did, even implied an understanding far beyond any she would have hoped from the man. Yet, Saeris has no guarantee that it is Gregoire who shall always be in charge and the nature of her personality fears the door slamming shut once more, or as the thoughts of her other skin form them, the snap of a trap on her leg.

"You have returned. The air around you is different. Were I mortal I would not have been able to recognize you, changed in form as you are." Came the echoes of Valor's voice. It is a sound Saeris had not realized until that moment she had dearly missed. The way it swirls around her skull and very bones, made up entirely of the Fade as she is here.

"Changed in..oh.." As she looks down it is to the paws she knew would be there, so at ease in her other skin now that following Flemeth's command to only dream in it is honestly simpler than taking her own. She doesn't even take shape as a human first anymore. "Yes. I learned to change my skin in the mortal world."

"Have you fought in it?" Asks Valor with the manner of a patient teacher reminding their errant student of the true meaning of a conversation, but the question makes Saeris' tail wag and she thinks nothing of being able to speak in this form. The words fill the Fade as if she was speaking from her vocal cords, what does it matter that instead it is her thoughts? Echoing as if she were another spirit in truth there.

"Fought and killed. Helped to bring down a dragon and I ended werewolves trying to slay me in turn. I kept the pelt and trinkets from the first to perish at my jaws, the curse spread within my veins like fire so I sought solace in this shape, able to fight and continue rather than be helpless."

Valor nods, the eyes barely visible under his helm somehow brighter, proud. "Well done. Share the memory."

It is something of a way spirits gossip actually passing a wisp of memory from one to the other. Not entirely unlike what she as a Dreamer Mage can do, but different still. For it is but a shadowy fragment of her memories but Curiosity and Patience taught her this method first, both fairly young yet as conscious spirits go, and the only way they knew to share things. When Valor got a hold of her he helped to refine her technique, calling it crude but passable.

Passable to one exacting spirit was more than good enough especially considering how young she is instead of centuries as even Curiosity was when they met.

The tiny orb of memory hovers before them, called into Valor's outstretched hand. The only outward signs are the flickers of light he holds as the hues alter, reflecting her emotions at the time. When it is done the memory is spent and gone, the impression of it no longer apart from her and no more diminished for the sharing. No different from telling a tale with many words and hand motions for the living in what it gives to a spirit. Because the spirits have different things they focus on, for Valor he discards much of it and hones in only on the sensations of battle, of pain, of the strategy and surroundings and how she used them. What does a talking tree matter to one who seeks the glory of battle after all?

"It needs work." With no further warning Valor is gone and in his place an immense bear, still ethereal in his hues. "Come now and test yourself against me. It is not only those who roam upon two legs who show Valor after all! We have much to train yourself to know in this one evening. Hold nothing back!"

Because she does not believe she will tire, Saeris does not. The fade shapes to a spirit's will and it is only that mortals can not seem to look beyond the limitations they are used to, even Dreamers, that hinders them. Saeris never had a chance to learn that, instead Valor has been her teacher since she was thirteen and trained her as he would another spirit, all he knew to do. So Saeris thinks nothing of having abilities that would be impossible were she in the mortal realm. That she can talk by projecting her thoughts is a matter of course, why shouldn't she be able to call down her storms, to twist and run turning about in the air and vanishing to reappear elsewhere? If she can think it, it can happen. Valor is certainly not holding back, the bear has swords flying at her, chains and whips forming out of the ground to snare at her paws. There are axes that slam into existence and shields to buffet away her spells. His paws are massive and carry the weight of a maul, but Saeris and Valor are both convinced they shall take no damage in this for it is a spar, a testing, not a fight to the death. So when it cuts deep into muscles and bones neither bleed and the damage is gone immediately as they continue. Such is the certainty of Valor and thus Saeris has learned to echo back at him when they spar.

It is almost morning when Valor finally rears back, having been many shapes through the evening. A stag, a goat, bear, lion, wyvern, bulls, even smaller ones she would have thought prey and how damaging they can be when controlled by the one who embodies battle's finest moments. There were creatures she has no names for that are massive or small and all equally dangerous in the right application of their given abilities. Saeris does not shift out of her form, sitting patiently, her tail curving out to the side as she cocks her head. Awaiting his verdict.

"I am pleased. You intend not to stay, but if at all possible consider visiting when there is cause to sleep in the evenings. I would like to monitor your progress."

"You are my teacher, and I have been honored beyond telling to learn." Saeris intones, to Valor's pleased chuckle.

"There are others like me. I shall graft the knowledge into you when you have finished your current quest. Remember that wherever you go is the realm to a spirit and to pay homage to that caretaker in whatever part of the fade you are in. By your very nature you are more spirit than Fade Walker in how you have learned, do not forget the lessons I have given you. I trained you as I remember the young wild beasts coming into their awareness and I have trained you as I would any who were willing to endure. Remember Valor is not just in battle, it is facing that which you are most afraid of and continuing on regardless. Much as you are doing with the Templars."

Because of course her memory orb had far more than she meant to share, it was part of being so young, she could not edit it well enough yet. Saeris ducked her head down in acknowledgment of his criticism and praise both. "They frighten me with the ability to steal the Fade from my grasp for a time."

"And you could easily end their lives before they could raise a blade. Such is the world be it in or out of the Fade. But Gregoire has his moments of honor, and dignity. I approve of your aiding him, indeed if there are such things to be found as you wander that give you pause there are far worse recourse's then to report them to a warrior you know will not seek out such for his own selfish endeavors. But enough of this prattle, let me tell you where you went wrong and what you may work to improve."

()()()()()()()()

When morning comes Surana and the others break their fast before setting off with the mages and their templar guards trailing behind. The Warden's group will go slightly ahead to ensure a clear pathway. Surana seems quiet and thoughtful, but he walks closer to Morrigan than before and the witch herself wears a new trinket. The golden chain hanging between her breasts does suit her. She'd half suspected that whom had caught Surana's eye was Leliana, but this makes sense. Surana is one of the sort drawn into danger, that which he is told he cannot have. Saeris has no idea what Morrigan is thinking, but if the witch feels like approaching her will be her own business. It's not as though Saeris has any illusions that the time she shared with the elfin mage was anything other than stolen moments for the sake of the hormones being sated. Something that perhaps she should warn Morrigan, Surana never was much good for.

The idea makes Saeris snicker but when the others look, she just waves them off. Barkspawn at her side contently, he's always following her these days since she learned to become a dog. As if she needs 'mothering' when only on two legs.

Once they've returned to Redcliffe and split up, Zevran is one of those left behind, as is Leliana. Wynne and Surana, Alistair, and Morrigan just to thumb her nose at the visiting circle mages and templars, have gone to handle the mess with Conner. Sten is off doing whatever he pleases.

There's no better time.

"Leliana?..what's your view on the phylactery practice?"

"The..pardon?" Asks the sister, confused, even Zevran is raising his head from where he was sharpening his already lethal knives.

"The Templar's draw blood from an apprentice when they are brought to the circle and store it in a vial that keeps it fresh. After our Harrowing it is moved off location but any time they desire they can hunt down a mage using that vial. It's a form of blood magic that they do not mind. Also, part of why Jowan was able to escape so long. Before being conscripted Surana helped him destroy his.."

"But, blood magic is wrong. No matter whom uses it. To use something against someone...just for being born the way the Maker made them." It clearly is not an idea that sits well with the bard and Saeris takes a chance. The way Zevran is looking at her with that ever present smirk he's doubtlessly already figured it out.

"Being a Gray Warden doesn't save Surana from that. Nor does being a healer save Wynne, and the idea of someone having a way to leash me is terrifying..."

"There is one of these here, no?" Zevran flips his smaller knife handle over tip along his fingers. "And you would like our amazing skills to help find and destroy it? It is why you would bring up such a topic after all."

"Yes. That of one of our dearest friends. Mine and Surana's, they're in Denerim.."

"We'll help you." Leliana's hand is on Saeris' shoulder and the bard's smile is soft and gentle. "No one should live in fear, and what you are doing is the Maker's work. I will gladly aid you with this my friend."

Saeris feels her hand clasping over Leliana's, the warmth in her gaze making Saeris smile back. "I do no think I deserve to be called your friend yet, but I'd like to earn that."

"We simply choose to give it so best just live with that. Not good to die before we finish this mess." Zevran interjects cheerfully before he slips a hand around both women. "Now, let us go find some blood to spill? In an admittedly less lethal way than I am used to. Ah, the things I do for gorgeous women.."

()()()()()()()()()()

Between the bard and the assasin the plan is made, and pulled off easily. Back outside the chantry the fat little bottle crashes to the ground and the feeling of the magic that kept it fresh shatters.

"Such a little thing, to inspire such fear." Zevran states but he has a frown on his face. "Had the crows such a method I would stop at nothing to try and remove it as well, it is a pity we cannot just ruin them all but the less that is handled in destruction the better the hiding of the deed."

"Yes." Leliana agrees before she shakes her head. "Your footsteps were so loud Saeris, I think perhaps I should teach you a few tricks."

It is familiar, the offering to train, to learn and Saeris smiles broadly at them both, catching them aback it seems. "Anything you are willing, I shall try."

"Well your build is wrong for a rogue, but you at least move when casting instead of just standing still. And I have seen you slash out with that dagger when an opponent was too close, though now you use teeth instead.." Leliana pauses. "You shouldn't get too reliant on that, there will be times and places you cannot have that known."

Someone really should have warned Saeris that a former Orlesian bard who took the task of protecting her friends seriously was the more dangerous one out of the two rogues. Zevran, amused, held his tongue. It would only provide him entertainment after all.