I don't know if the backstory here is canon; I'm going on what I most often read in fanfic, and partly making it up.
Thanks for reading my rambling... *Ahem* ... I mean shorts.
Lullaby
Morgana
Her childhood, most of her adult life - both have taught her to expect preachiness and prejudice from those of the Chantry.
She sits somewhere between the two campfires, sneaking glances at the red-haired sister, daggers strapped to her back.
She remembers Lily, a woman who was as fervent in her beliefs as Morgana was a heathen, but also had - and returned - the love of a mage. She also had a dagger and a mace tucked under her robes - not as forgiving or preachy as she might have seemed. Morgana sighs, remembering Lily's awful sentence: Aeonar, the mages' prison - a a place of nightmares and rot. She pushes down the guilt and the what-ifs that rise inside her.
Then there is Alistair, the Chantry-raised man and nearly templar, who seems confusingly... human.
She wonders what has happened to her beliefs that most in the Chantry were bigots - this world outside the stone walls of the Tower is bloody confusing, and every time she thinks she understands a rule, has a leg to stand on, it changes, or the rug is pulled from beneath her feet.
The sister - Leliana, was it? - is humming a tune, simple and plaintive, and Morgana remembers Lothering burning, the barely-concealed pain in the other woman's eyes. It takes her a couple of minutes to remember where she has heard it before, and when she does, the memory briefly knocks the breath out of her.
As she sat in the Tower's library, devouring books about the outside world she'd never see, in the quieter moments, the darkness just before the dawn, she would occasionally hear the tune. Lower, but with the same pain in every note. Even more rarely, she'd abandon the book she was reading and simply sit and listen, wondering at what the person was thinking, letting its simplicity and its sound wash through the quietness and the stillness, letting long-denied memories come to the surface.
She was listening as usual, when a new sound threaded itself through the song - words. Incredibly quiet ones, the sound of someone singing to themselves. The voice was painfully familiar, and in that instant, she had to know if her suspicions were correct, and she began to creep round the bookshelves.
They were. Anders - light-hearted, mischief-making, couldn't-stay-still-for-a-minute Anders, who never went in the library and certainly didn't sing - took a few seconds to notice her, and when he did, abruptly stopped.
When she asked what the song was, he eventually admitted that it was something his mother used to sing to him, and he in turn learned and used to sing to his young sister. It was the only thing that would ever get her to sleep, he said, and he smiled at the memory, the smile dropping from his face as he explained the rest of it. He was twelve when he was taken - old enough to remember his family. He had no idea where his mother was, and the templars that had dragged him away had killed his sister in the process; he had no-one, but he told her this without a tear or a shake in his voice.
The next morning, he made his fourth escape attempt, and was soon enough dragged back to the Tower. No matter how many times or how late she sat in the library, she never heard the song again.
Leliana looks up at the sound of her footsteps, and seems surprised when Morgana sits beside her on the ground, but recovers quickly, throwing her a beaming smile to cover the sadness that was in her face before. When Morgana asks her what the song is, she explains, curious as to why she's asking.
"I..." She considers explaining, but it is not her secret or her story to give, so she simply says, "...Heard it from a friend."