Disclaimer: I do not own nor claim to own the works of EA's Dragon Age or anything that may come into the following Fan made piece of fiction. This is meant for enjoyment alone.

"You fear Barbarians will swoop down upon you?" speech.

'Yes. Swooping is bad.' thought/flashback monologuing.

"█▄▄██▄▄▄██▄▄█" Archdemon/Darkspawn/Inarticulate Roar/etc.

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A/N IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ!

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ!

Alright so we know we have enough stories that need to be gotten through first. Our schedule is filled with enough to keep us busy we get it.

However! We aren't just writers, we are readers! And inspiration strikes us according to whatever fandom we find ourselves reading as well as what interests us at the moment. For a while now (like several months at the very least) we have been curious as to how we would do a telling of the Dragon Age story. Who would our Warden be? What Origin would he come from? Shit like that. This story is finally the answer to our questions.

We chose a Seventh Origin. The story of the Warden 'Leon Graves.'

as with all Prologue Chapters that we post. It is short and meant more as a prove of concept kind of thing. A taste of the world we are trying to write and opening to see what kind of interest can arise in regard to it.

Please be sure to favorite and follow this and definitely leave reviews with your thoughts and opinions regarding this to let us know if this story is well received….or not.

The 'Schedule' remains the same, just pushed back a week. So apologies to those who were waiting for and expecting a chapter of 'Risen in Light' this week. We will have that out in a weeks time :)

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The City of Jader was a busy place to live. As the last beacon of Orlesian before the savage dogs of Ferelden, it served as a hub of trade and travel for all walks of life within and without the Orlesian Empire. With ships coming from the neighboring nations of Navarra, the Free Marches and even as far as Rivain; Jader was a hub for diverse trade and culture. The Marquis that governed the city and surrounding region was well known to host elaborate masquerade parties whenever notable foreign dignitaries passed through. All part of the Orlesian 'Grand Game' that was their method of politics.

It was in this city that he was born. From a family of no real power or importance. His mother; an Orlesian woman and daughter of a fisherman and his father; a Fereldan trader that had fallen in love with both the city and the woman he had taken as his bride.

When his father settled in Jader he had been welcomed by the family of his new bride and even found a new job and place as a merchant selling the catch in the open market. Together the two lived a quiet, relatively blissful life.

And then they were blessed with an addition to their little family; a child of their own.

Given the name Leon; meaning Lion in Orlesian and taken from the newborn child's grandfather, the babe was a blessing to the small family within their quiet; peaceful life within Jader.

At an early age little Leon showed to be a curious child, displaying a proclivity for getting into places that no infant had any place being much to the exasperation of his worried mother and faintly amused father.

What concerned the Merchant Husband as his wife the most however; was the moments when Leon went silent. It was at seemingly random times that Leon was seemingly become unresponsive to their presence and seem to peer off into the distance. Sometimes the toddler would clap and laugh apparently at thin air or suddenly scream and cry as if in terror for no given reason.

It had concerned the parents, worried that their beautiful child was afflicted with some kind of malady. The Chantry offered the services of their healers to the public, but unless you had the coin to earn the attention and priority of the Chantry, you had to wait in line behind everyone else. And with the fact that this small family had no coin to spare; they had been forced to wait for the Chantry to see to the health needs of all those whom had petitioned for aid beforehand.

Thankfully, some time before they had even the chance to see a Chantry Healer; Leon had improved. While there was still the very rare moment when the boy would seem to look away from his parents as if looking at something only he could see, for the most part it his behavior had settled to the reassurance of his worried mother and father.

It was because of how, odd, Leon was that he had found himself the victim of bullying from other children as he grew out of infancy and into childhood. Sure he had friends; he played with the children of his neighbors and enjoyed his time greatly running around the streets of Jader; laughing wildly as he chased his friends or was chased in turn.

But it was the bully's; the children that chose to point at and torment him for his still lingering habit of losing focus and for all appearances daydreaming without apparent cause. They took pleasure in mocking him for his phases of oblivion and would often play a parody of those moments before tripping him over while 'cautioning' him to keep his head out of the clouds and watch his step.

It was what Leon was currently trying to avoid as of this moment.

His father was currently embroiled in the politics of renewing the family's commerce licence while mother kept the house in working order. This left the five year old to leave home and play with his friends. Instead of that he had run afoul of possibly the worst of his tormentors. This particular boy; perhaps three or four years older than he was currently had never been quite satisfied with simply shaming and dirtying the 'addle-minded' Leon. No this one found the most enjoyment when he could hear the younger boy cry out in pain. When he could get that confirmation that his efforts had resulted in something that couldn't be simply washed away and ignored.

Leon had come up with a plan for escape though. He was trying to outrun the bully and reach the docks. If he could get there and find the fishing yard where his family's fishing boat was currently undergoing repairs from a particularly nasty storm that had hit a week past; he would be able to seek shelter and protection from the workers there.

He so very nearly made it.

He had just come out of a narrow alleyway, no more than a few hundred feet from the piers and dry docks when he was heavily slammed to the cobblestone ground.

Sucking back in a lungful of air to restore the breath that had burst out of him from the impact with the ground; Leon absently noted the familiar taste of the salt air that wafted up from the gently lapping water several feet below the stone wharf.

"Almost made it this time."

Leon turned to face the laughing voice, peering up at the larger boy that was leering down at him cruelly even as the boys that were with him joined in with the mocking revelry.

"You that eager for a swim?" The Bully sneered, cocking his head to the side as he looked at the smaller, skinnier boy that was his source of sadistic entertainment.

The others that had come with this boy and oft joined in on tormenting the other, weaker, children of Jader took the subtle signal and spread out to surround Leon; closing in slowly to herd the five year old closer and closer to the ledge.

"Who knows, maybe the fishermen will haul you out in one of their nets. Won't be worth much though so your pa will still have to take you back home."

Leon's eyes widened as a very real sense of fear washed over him as he felt his foot brush against open air behind him. He didn't know how to swim! He wasn't old enough to go out with the fishermen and so hadn't been taught yet. If he went in, he would drown.

There was no further taunting or words spoken to him as the bully's pushed him. They just laughed as if it was the funniest thing they had come across in quite some time.

Leon felt his blood run cold as he felt his feet leave the ground and gravity take him. He was going to die. He was falling. He was going to hit the water, sink and never come up again.

He didn't want to die.

Screwing his eyes shut tight and bracing for the impact, Leon clenched his fists tightly and let out a whimper as he felt his chest constrict and the cold feeling in his veins suddenly spike. Starting from the pit of his stomach and spreading out to his fingers and toes, it was a cold very similar to the seasons when the snows of the Frostbacks drifted down during the winter months.

And then he hit solid ground. Well, solid something.

It knocked the breath out of his chest as his back smacked into it and his head hurt. When Leon did finally open his eyes as the growing realisation hit that he wasn't falling in water and was still safe, he gaped in wonder when he felt the cold, slick sensation of ice beneath his elbows and saw the gleaming white reflective surface of thick sheet ice beneath him.

It, it was like Magic.

The awe and wonder that Leon felt at seeing the miracle that had saved his life fled and the boy paled in fear when that word bounced through his head again: 'Magic.'

he had heard about Magic. Specifically from the sermons of the Revered Mother in the retelling of the Chantry's stance on Magic and specifically Andraste and therefore The Maker's truth regarding its danger.

Scrambling as carefully as he could to a wooden pier that was thankfully attached to the slap of ice he had somehow created, Leon didn't even pay any heed to the watching wide eyes of the bully's that had tried to drown him or the hushed whispers that had popped up as the five year old ran by; flecks of melting ice falling from his clothes.

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The revelation that their beloved child was magic was received better than a frightened Leon had thought. His father had been angry at the older children that had pushed his son off the wharf and very nearly into the water which would have resulted in the death of the poor boy were it not for the magical intervention. Mother however had simply been beside herself with worry for her baby. It didn't matter that Leon had magic; that he was one of the Mages that The Chantry so very nearly vilified as potential monsters and that the Chant of Light dictated should be sequestered away and made to serve the interests of The Chantry itself. There was no difference between him now and the pure, innocent babe that had been born to the world only a few short years ago. The fact that he had used magic to save his own life didn't make him some kind of monster or Blood Mage. Nor was he going to become one simply because of an extra gift.

By the time Leon had finally settled down enough to be put to bed; night had well and truly fallen. Mother and Father had been eyeing the windows and door four hours now, dreading the arrival of the Chantry and their militant arm; The Templars. There was very little chance the display had gone on unnoticed and when it came to things that were of a magical nature, the Chantry was exceedingly swift to act.

Their fears were realised when the door shook suddenly with the hard banging of a plate covered fist against wood.

Still not quite asleep; a still shaken Leon let out a squeak of fear, jumping at the noise and clutching the hem of his mothers dress from where she was seated at his bed side.

The door shook again from another round of harsh knocking and Mother urged Leon out of his bed.

"Quickly Sweetling, under the bed." She urged, gathering the beds blankets and placing them in such a manner that it partially hung down the frame to brush against the floor; providing some cover as the frightened child heeded the order and crawled underneath.

Casting a quick look to the back of the home where his wife was taking quick, long steps away from their son's hiding place, Father approached the door, steeling his nerve before plastering on as calm an expression as he could before opening the door.

Sure enough, a small group of four Templars; all clad in gleaming silver plate armor bearing the flaming sword of their Order.

"Ah, Ser Templars." Father greeted, fighting to keep his voice steady as he looked at the admittedly fierce men. "What brings you to my humble home?"

"We have received word that your son has been revealed to possess Magic." Came the reply of the Lead Templar. "As a faithful resident of Jader and follower of the Chantry I am sure you are aware of what this means?"

Father nodded carefully. "Of course. Those that are revealed to be Mages are to be sent to the Circle of Magi, no matter what their standing; be they peasant or prince."

The Templar nodded, seemingly satisfied with the response. "Then the query of our presence is explained. We are here to collect the mage for transportation to the Circle. As a precaution we are unable to disclose the location of the Circle your child will be taken to."

Father nodded once more before affecting a confused expression; drawing as much as he could from his experience as a merchant and trader. "I understand Ser Templar but I am afraid you have been misinformed. My son is no Mage. I am afraid that Leon suffers the attention of bully's from time to time. I believe that you have been lied to as an attempt to distress my son on their behalf."

By now Mother had joined her husband, leaning against him gently and interposing herself between the line of sight the Templars had on Leon's hiding place.

The Templar turned his helm covered head to the side slightly and let out a long, drawn out breath. "This is not the first time I have had to do this. You are not the first unfortunate enough to have a Mage child, nor are you the first to not wish to surrender your child to the Chantry and the Circle of Magi."

"But this is going to happen." The Templar continued. "Regardless of how you might feel on this now, it is for your child's own protection. Magic is a dangerous gift to possess. The threat of harming not only himself but those he loves is incredibly high the older he grows. Much less the risk of demonic possession."

Father was silent. He could think of nothing to say. It was evident that the Templar had not believed him. They knew that his son had magic and would not be convinced otherwise.

"Please!" Mother stepped forward, hands clasped together beseechingly. "He's just a baby, he won't hurt anyone. Please don't take my baby from me!"

The Lead Templar's eyes softened. It was the hard part of his duty to The Chantry and The Templar Order; taking away a child from its mother. He understood it was necessary, that it was for the benefit of everyone involved and the safety of the public that it happen. But it was still hard all the same.

He went to speak, to assure the teary eyed woman that her child would be alright; that he would grow up safe and cared for in the Circle where he would want for nothing, when one of his subordinates stepped forward.

He was a relatively fresh recruit. Only a handful of weeks out from his graduation at the White Spire in Val Royeaux and his posting in Jader and this was his first time collecting a mage-child for transportation to a Circle.

"Enough of your wailing, out of the way woman!"

Shoving his way forward the impetuous Templar bodily pushed his way into the house, shoving Mother and Father apart as he forced his way into the home. When Mother grabbed at his arm and latched on tightly, trying to stop him from getting any farther into her home, the Templar snarled and backhanded her across the face, knocking her off her feet and cutting open her cheek from the force of plate metal meeting soft flesh.

"Stand down Knight Rodier!" The Lead Templar barked, taking a half step forward to address the wilful man that had just assaulted a woman for nothing more than wanting to protect her child.

The Templar ignored the order, instead drawing his sword as an obvious threat to both Mother and Father of what would happen if they tried to stop him again.

When Mother recovered from the blow, head reeling from the concussive force of the hit and looked over to the armed Templar that was walking further into the house and as a result closer and closer to her hiding son, all she could see was a threat to her baby boy.

Father was still in shock, stunned by the events and uncertain as to how he should respond.

Mother was not.

She shot up to her feet and charged the Templar; focused on nothing more than stopping the Templar from getting any close to her baby. It wasn't even the fact that they were here to take Leon to the Circle. All she could process was the thought and fear that the Templar; Knight Rodier, was going to harm her little Lion.

The impetuous Templar heard her frantic advance. It was more instinct and training than hostility that directed his actions as he turned around and positioned his sword in front of him in a ready position. He didn't mean for it to happen when a wide eyed Mother ran full force into the blade of his sword and impaled herself clean through.

Silence ruled in that moment. Save for the wet gurgling of Mother as blood spilled from her mouth no-one seemed to even breath. When she fell to the ground; Rodier's sword slipping out of her body, Father seemed to break.

He let out a cry, something more akin to a wail of pain and grief rather than anger as he made to rush toward the fallen form of his beloved.

When he felt a heavy hand clap down on his shoulder, stopping his movements, he spun around to see the lead Templar holding him.

He didn't see the sorrow in the eyes of the man. He didn't see the regret and pity, nor the shame in the eyes of the two positioned behind him. All he saw was the sword; resting in its sheath, and so easily taken.

With a near crazed expression of desperation, Father reached out; faster than the Templar could react; snatched the sword right out of its sheath. Wrenching his way free of the Templar's grip, Father let out another cry and charged the murderer of his wife. He had no plan, no real idea of what he was going to do. All he knew was that the man in front of him had just killed his beloved and was going to take his son away.

The swing was clumsy and slow. Father was nothing more than a Merchent, fit from the travel of his youth sure, but there was no training or understanding on how to hold or even swing a sword.

Nonetheless he looked surprised when Knight Rodier swung his own sword out in response to the Merchant's clumsy attack and scored a deep, mortal would across his chest.

As he fell, Father could see the frightened, fear filled eyes of Leon; witness to the murder of his parents from his hiding place and felt a profound sense of sadness fill him. To die knowing that his son would live with this memory for the rest of his life.

Father died there. Not three feet from his wife and under the terrified gaze of his poor, orphaned son.

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