Co-Authored with the Lovely MouseMage, her work can be found here...

.net/u/2250619/

Disclaimers: Dragon Age: Origins and all related characters are obviously copy-write to Bioware. I'm just playing with them.
Spoilers: Through end game, eventually. For Stolen Throne and Probably for The Calling too, once I've finished.
Author's Note: We decided to play with twins, for the sake of humour mostly. We do take plenty of liberties... sorry, poetic license with many of the things within the Dragon Age universe. Please enjoy, and all R&R's are greatly appreciated!

"Isla! Arran, Run!" Adaia whispered, kneeling down to the twin's height. "When I go for the tall fat one, run, as fast as you can back to Valendrian."

Twin pairs of big blue eyes looked up at her in bewilderment. Her daughters had lived a good life – their father was an honest, if gentle, man. The alienage was a good home despite the poverty, and they had really never wanted for anything. But it was these bastard nobles, thinking they could take whatever they wanted whenever they wanted it, and Adaia was not going to let them take her girls to become painted up whores in their courts. They were better than that. She wrapped her arms around her girls, giving them a tight squeeze, and stood up.

Her hand moved to the folds of her apron, and she pulled out Fang, the blade given to her by her mother. She let out a deep breath, readying her stance and pulling the blade across her chest.

"Oh look!" Arl Urien grinned, turning to his men. "The little mouse wants to fight!"

The soldiers with him laughed, and then the arl turned to his teenage son. "Observe Vaughan, how we deal with knife-ears who think they are more than livestock."

But before he could signal the attack, Adaia rushed him. She struck him first across the face with a shallow slash, opening up his flesh in a spray of hot blood. The man swore and staggered back, only for his footmen to rush in at Adaia.

She took the first out with a savage kick to the knee, opening up the throat of the second as she spun around to face the third, who received Fang through the eye. The fourth took a step back, trying to make some distance between himself and the ferocious she-elf. He failed, because she quickly covered the distance and hit him in the temple with the pommel of her blade, sending him to the floor unconscious.

His soldiers down, Arl Urien lay on the floor, covering his bloodied face with one hand. "You will leave my girls alone, Shem." She hissed, kneeling down on one knee to speak to him face to face. "And you will learn to treat us "knife-ears" with a little more resp-"

Adaia never finished her sentence. Vaughan, unnoticed by her, had picked up one of the slaughtered soldier's swords, and thrust it through her back and out her belly. Already reinforcements were running to their fallen Arl, and panic filled her. She turned to her girls, who as usual had disobeyed her and stood watching their mother.

Already she could see the lightening dancing between Isla's fingertips. Arran stood beside her, poised and ready to strike with her bare hands, that furious scowl of defiance on her face.

"Run girls." She whispered, before falling down, dead.

"Mummy!" They both screamed, before running towards her. Arran was the first to reach her, tears already streaming down her face. She fell to her knees, fingers scooping up her mother's head to look into vacant unseeing eyes. Vaughan advanced on her, only to be stopped as Arran's small fist landed squarely in his groin.

"Arran we have to run!" Isla said, lightening dancing around her, tears upon her cheeks. "We have to get out of here!"

Quickly, Arran grabbed Fang, knowing full well it what it was and why it was important. "Not without this." She whispered, standing up and looking to her sister.

"Isla, your magic!"

"I can't help it!"

"Use it you fool!"

"But Mum said..."

"Mum is dead!"

This pushed Isla over the edge. Something within her snapped, and it poured out from her fingers. Her eyes narrowed at Vaughan, who was kneeling beside his father and cupping bruised groin. On compulsion Isla concentrated her power, and let it out.

Lightening crackled from her, wrapping about the adolescent and making his hair stand on end. Isla snapped her hand back, and the lightening coursed through him. He fell over, unconscious and singed. Arran grabbed her sister's hand and ran back to the alienage.

Several Hours Later...

Cyrion let out a long sigh, glancing over his shoulder at the twins. They were tucked up in bed, arms wrapped around each other. Adaia was dead. He couldn't believe it. She had always been a fiery woman, with little tolerance for fools or ignorance. But to go so far as to leave her girls without their mother? And with Isla's condition as well. He had done his best, he had done everything he could do, but without Adaia he knew he had little chance of concealing Isla's talents for much longer.

There was a pounding at the door. It woke the girls.

"Open this door in the name of Andraste!"

Cyrion was barely out of his chair in front of the fire when the door flung off it's hinges, and four templars marched in.

"What is the meaning of this?" Cyrion spat, knowing full well what it was all about.

"There's no point in denying it, Elf." One of them removed his helmet. He was middle-aged man, with dark green eyes and greying brown hair. "We can sense the magic here."

"OW!" One of the templars stumbled back, hands pulling off his helmet and then going to his nose. "That little knife-ear punched me in the nose!"

"You're NOT TAKING MY SISTER!" Arran screamed, standing on the bed, with a small chopping knife in her hand. Her face was set in a fierce scowl, and Isla was sat behind her, eyes wide.

"Please, sers..." Cyrion began, only to be back handed across the face by the first templar. He then marched across the room to the bed, where he hit Arran, sending her flying and out the way. Finally he scooped up Isla, who was screaming. Her fingers crackled with the lightening, but they were too practised. In moments her mana was drained, and exhausted the little girl fell limp in his arms. He turned around and marched out, the others following him.

Arran ran after her sister, only to be grabbed by her father and pulled in beside him. "Shhh, my little one, shhh. You'll find her again, I know you will. But there is nothing you can do now."

5 years later, at the circle tower.

Cullen had just turned 16 years old. He had started his "on the job" training a few months ago, and was now well on the way to becoming a fully fledged templar. It wasn't like he thought it would be. He had never realised there would be so much standing around. There was so much standing around. Currently, he was standing at the main door to the tower. He was supposed to be keeping guard, but considering there was no bridge and nothing going on, he was actually seeing how long he could hold his breath for in one go. Currently he was up at 1 minute 30 seconds, and was going for two minutes.

That was until a girl climbed up over the edge of the tower's rocky outcrop. Her hair was a brilliant blonde and she scrambled up with a satisfied grin. She waved at him, in a cheerful fashion. "Hi! You're just the man I'm looking for!"

Cullen highly doubted it, and trotted forward to offer her a hand to help her to her feet. She hit him with a bright, chirpy grin. She looked oddly familiar, but Cullen couldn't quite place her face. Blue eyes twinkled, "You're a templar, but you'll have to do I suppose."

"Uuuh." Cullen was pretty sure he should be alerting others to the presence of an intruder, but the girl was just acting like she was meant to be there. Cullen didn't want to look foolish if she was expected to be there, after all.

"I'm wondering if I could visit someone in the tower, a mage? She looks kinda like me. Although I haven't seen her in five years. She might be taller. Or shorter. Or...I dunno." She waved a hand, dismissing her own train of thought. "Her name is Isla Tabris, could you go fetch her for me?"

"Eh...no." Cullen said hesitantly a frown forming on his features. He wasn't entirely sure what happened when you got visitors that didn't come across on the boat. His curiosity got the better of him. "How did you get across if you didn't come in the boat?"

"Huh?" She glanced over her shoulder, indicating the ancient ruined bridge, or at least what remained of it. "Oh, you know. Ropes. Swinging wildly across from one to the other. Dramatic leaps. I'll admit I did fall in the drink once, but you know, it's a sunny day I dried off."

Cullen's eyes widened. "What? You leapt across the ruined bridge?"

"Yea, don't worry, I'll take the ropes down on my way back" Her big blue eyes were on him expectantly. "I take it your not going to get my sister out here for me, are you?"

"Sister?"

The girl sighed. "Isla, Tabris? I mentioned this before, please try to keep up. Look, if you can't get her for me, can you at least give her this.." Her slim hands groped about in her damp tunic. It was at this junction he noticed the points of elvish ears poking out from between long blonde strands of hair. She was an elf. Well, that explained the agility.

She presented him with a slightly soggy letter. "I hope the ink hasn't ran." She said, a little sadness creeping into the edge of her voice. "I have travelled all the way from Denerim."

"How old are you?" Cullen had assumed she was young, but then she was an elf, and it was always difficult to gauge with them.

"13 summers?" She frowned. "What's that got to do with anything? Look." She took his hands, pressing the letter into them. "Please, if you have any soul left in that templar armour of yours, can you give this to my sister? Isla. Tabris. She looks awfully like me. We're twins."

Cullen looked into those big blue eyes that looked at him so imploringly. A part of his heart melted, and he nodded, gently concealing the letter within his breastplate. "Very well!" He sighed, and watched the elf's face burst into an even wider grin.

"Thank you." She breathed. "You're a real knight of the realm." And with that she turned and trotted off, swinging swiftly over the edge of the cliff. Cullen darted forward, worried she was plunging towards the rocks, but she was already clambering down the cliff face, a bit like a monkey.

"Huh." He said to himself, "Maybe this won't be so bad after all." He muttered, before returning to his post at the door. He resolved to look for Isla once he was relieved.

That Evening...

"Do it again Isla, do it again!" It was a child's voice, happy and accompanied by clapping hands.

"Yes Isla, please!" Other children then took up the cry, all of them pleading.

"Ok ok..." She laughed, ushering a couple of the more eager children out of the way. She sat down in front of the music box, and made a show of concentrating on the end of her finger. Drawing on just a little of her magic, she caused a small spark of electricity to jolt. It failed, the children gasped. Inwardly the elf mage chuckled to herself – it was all too easy, but the little ones took such delight in her tricks. She sparked again, the small voltage leaping from her finger to the music box, bringing it's tinny tune to life. The children, all under the age of five, clapped and laughed in delight as the box played its small tune.

No one noticed the templar in the background, until he coughed and announced that it was bedtime. They all groaned, but got up obediently and began to file out the dining hall. Cullen watched as Isla sighed, and continued to watch the music box as it began to wind down.

"Isla Tabris?" Cullen had been pointed in this direction by other apprentice mages. Thankfully none of them asked why he was seeking out one particular mage, he was a templar after all. She turned at her name, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"

Her face was a little kinder than the one that had climbed over the cliff edge. But the similarity was exact. Her eyes a little less cheeky, calmer, was probably the word. Cullen swallowed, the fear of being caught suddenly lurching forward. "I have something for you." He reached into his breastplate, and produced the letter. All day he had carried it carefully, ensuring that the ink hadn't smeared as it dried. He hadn't read the letter, although he had been very tempted. Curiosity and the cat and all.

Isla narrowed her blue eyes at him, standing up from where she sat and venturing the few steps between them cautiously. Gingerly she reached her hand out and hesitated, suspicion evident on her features. "No trick?"

Cullen shook his head. "If it is, it's being played on me." He offered her a small smile. "The elf that gave it to me was your double."

"What?" With that Isla snatched the letter from his hand, ripping open it's envelope.

"Careful, it got damp!" Cullen exclaimed onto deaf ears.

"Arran..." Isla's heart leapt, and she sank to the nearest seat as she recognised her sister's handwriting.

My Dearest Isla,

If you're reading this letter, they wouldn't let me in the tower. Trust me, I'll have tried, but you know me, bad plans and all that. But I will come up with one to rescue you, trust me on that.

Nothings been the same since you were taken. Father hasn't been the same, but then neither have I. We've kept well, however, you'll be sad to learn that Aunt Nisa and Uncle Tamis died, and Soris and Shianni have moved in with us. We have all become very close, but I miss you sister.

Truthfully, I don't know what I should be writing in this letter. I wanted to tell you how things have been wrong since That Day, father refuses to speak about it Valendrian only cautions me not to follow in mother's footsteps. But I can't, you know me, Isla, I've always been rash and reckless...

I want to tell you everything that has happened here, about the babies that have been born, and the old farts that have died. The time I climbed to the very top of the Vhenadahl, much to the outrage of everyone else! You'd have laughed sister, and no doubt been up there with me. Soris was a wuss and only got to the third branch! ….

There was more to the letter, several pages more, but Isla couldn't read it for the tears in her eyes. She wiped them away, and glanced around the dining room checking it was empty. Cullen stood there awkwardly, staring at his feet.

Isla ran forward and hugged him, even around the awkward templar armour. She rocked to her tiptoes, kissing him on the cheek. "Thank you. Thank you!" And with that she ran from the room.

"Defiantly not going to be so bad after all." Cullen smiled to himself, drew in a breath, and headed to bed, grinning from ear to ear.

Over the next year, several letters were handed back and forth. Initially, Arran handed all her letters in person to Cullen to pass on, and likewise from Isla, until Cullen suggested that it was quite acceptable for him to receive and send mail, so why didn't they send letters that way? Both girls were thrilled with the idea, and the frequency of their letters increased dramatically.

Cullen found himself enjoying the time he got to spend with Isla because of this. She was a bright, friendly girl, but with a cheeky sense of humour that he found endearing. Her sister was a completely different matter. Crazy was one word to describe her, Cullen thought to himself, especially after the day of their 14th birthday...

"Cullen, pleeeeeease" She whinged at him, hopping from foot to foot and giving him her best puppy dog eyes. "Come on, please? I'll only be five little minutes, no-one will ever know!"

"No Arran!" He hissed. They were standing at the edge of the tower, near Arran's now usual appearance spot. He hadn't been expecting her, but she had turned up and found him during his combat training.

"But it's our biiiiirthday!" Arran was good at whining. She could put a particular tone into her voice that grated on his senses.

"No, Arr-" He paused, frowning and looking down at her. Isla hadn't mentioned a birthday. "It's your birthday?"

Arran nodded, flicking some strands of her blond hair behind her ear. It was amazing, he reflected. They hadn't seen each other in years, and yet had the same hair style anyway. And habits. "Please? Come on, five minutes...four minutes? I'll hug her super quick!"

Cullen shook his head, but spoke more gently. "No Arran...it's rash, and stupid and if you're caught.. if I'm caught...If Isla is caught! Things.." He hesitated. "Bad things will happen. Greagior will have my hide for starters."

"Fine!" Arran hissed, throwing a hastily wrapped gift at him. "Give her this, she'll know what I mean!" And with that she disappeared down over the cliff edge again. Cullen sighed with relief. "Finally." That girl was trying.

It wasn't until an hour later, when he was heading to the library to relieve Willhiem from his watch duty when he saw her. At least, he thought he saw her. He'd passed a rather lost looking serving elf, with blond hair. An elf that had defiantly raised her finger to her lips in a "shhhh" gesture. That certainly gave it away. Cursing, he spun on his heel and chased after her, grabbing her by her arm.

"Arran! What are you doing in here you idiot!"

"Arran?" She tried to look innocent. "I'm Lucy ser!" Arran was failing miserably, and presented him with a rather dirty looking sheet. "Need any laundry doing Ser?"

"What are you doing here?" Cullen growled at her in a whisper, starting to frog march her to the servant's exit. "I told you not to be here, you'll get us all in trouble!"

"What Ser? You've pissed your bed?" She replied, loudly, just as they passed some of his peers and a couple of mages. One of which was Wynne, who took a double take at the girl.

"Be quiet Arran!" He dragged her around a corner, and saw the servant's entrance nearby. She obviously hadn't been in the tower that long, thank the maker.

"Fine, fine!" She sighed, reluctantly. "I'll go I'll go... Just make sure she gets her present, ok?"

"You think I wouldn't?" Cullen pushed her out the door, and frowned at her. "Goodbye, Arran."

She stuck her tongue out at him as he closed the door, and locked it, for good measure.

It was now their 16th birthday, and he was sitting with Isla over a cup of tea. She laughed at the story of her sister's attempts at getting into the tower. "She did well, you have to admit." Isla grinned, lifting her teacup. "Getting past the guards. I wonder where she got the dirty sheet?"

"I don't want to know." Cullen replied with a grin. His hand ran through his hair, and he let out a sigh. He had been finding himself spending more and more of his free time just chatting with Isla when he could. The tower was not as strict as it should've been at that moment as Greagoir was away, involved in the disappearance of the King. Many were sure he was dead, and were pushing for Cailan to be crowned king.

Isla chuckled, and topped up his tea from the teapot. "I really have to thank you Cullen, for giving me my family back. I know it's not how Arran wants it, but its the closest I can get really. It wouldn't be possible without you."

"Well, you're not the only one benefiting from the whole endeavour. I've truly been enjoying our stolen moments together Isla."

It was her grin. It was cheeky, and implied a lot more than he actually meant, "Stolen moments, eh?" She teased, tongue flickering over her lips.

Cullen flushed pink. "That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

Isla just giggled, and gave him a long look.

Meanwhile...

"Arran Tabris! Get Back Here!" Cyrion bellowed after his daughter, sometimes, when his mood was dark, and Arran was being particularly difficult, he wished they had taken the wrong daughter. She glanced over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at him and vanished around a corner. He gave chase, but he already knew she would've scrambled onto the rooftops and disappeared into the evening. He drew to a panting halt, trying to catch his breath.

"Has she got away from you again, Uncle?" Soris appeared, with the groceries in his arms.

"That girl will be the death of me!" He exclaimed, walking over to his nephew and taking the bags from him. "Could you go looking for her? I've been trying to get her to help me prepare the Feastday meal all day, but she just refuses. I'm worried she'll head out on one of her 'trips' again."

Soris nodded, and offered a smile. "Don't worry Uncle, I know where she'll be."

"Thank you nephew, thank you. And tell her that her Uncle is here." Cyrion headed off back to the house, and Soris just proceeded to take his time heading over to the Vhenadahl. He peered up within it's branches, hunting for that shock of blonde hair, that would no doubt have fallen out of the neat buns Shianni had forced it into that morning.

"Arran?" He called up, "I know your there, come home and make a mess in the kitchen. Maybe that way Cyrion will realise that you and flour are a bad combination."

"Nu-uh, no way!" Came the reply. "Come up here and get me!"

Soris sighed to himself, "You're too old to be climbing trees!"

"Go make love to a goat!"

"Now that was just mean!" Soris scowled, finally taking the bait and clambering up the tree. He got about half way, and then his vertigo kicked in. He wrapped his arms tightly about a branch and groaned.

"Don't look down." Came Arran's help, and one of her boots swung into view. "You've not got far to reach me this time."

Letting out a sigh Soris grabbed Arran's ankle and scrambled up to sit beside her on one of the tree's large internal branches. She had found a little seat, and was facing the trunk. She always looked at the same bit, and the carving had been worn smooth by her constant tracing of it.

Soris sighed, and looked at the twin's initials etched into the bark.

"You're not thinking of trying to break in again, are you?" His blue eyes looked to her face. She offered him a smile. "Well...it worked so well last time?" She replied with a shrug.

"Arran!"

"No!" She replied, venomously at first, but then she sighed. "No. But I'm considering an idea."

"Come home." Soris replied. "Duncan is here for the Feastday celebrations."

Arran visibly perked up at that, a grin forming on her lips. "Duncan?" And with that she rolled from the branch she was lounging on, fingers swiftly grabbing another before she hopped out the tree, landing squarely on her feet with a little flourish. Soris on the other hand, didn't land nearly as gracefully and nearly crashed his face into the ground. "I'll race you home!" Arran shouted, breaking into a run.

Soris groaned, and got to his feet. "Damn you cousin!"

Arran ran. She loved to run, loved to jump, loved to dance. She loved anything that involved her feet, and speed. She skidded around the corners, the ground damp from the rain the previous night. She positively burst into her father's house, pausing to glance about. She saw Shianni at the fire, tending to a few rabbits that were roasting. There was a bottle of wine open on the table, two glasses. Her father sat on one chair, and on the other sat Duncan. Her beloved "uncle" Duncan.

Arran rushed towards him, flinging her arms about his neck and kissing his forehead. "Duncan!" She exclaimed "So good to see you!"

"Arrran! Take off your muddy boots!" Cyrion moaned at her. She ignored him, plonking her rear end of the edge of the table, looking the Grey Warden intently in the face. She then slapped him across the cheek. "That's for taking so long to visit! Have you any idea how hard it is dealing with these people all on my onesy!"

Duncan laughed, grabbing her wrist and slapping the back of her hand gently. "Oh you silly child." He chided, letting her arm go as she pulled up a chair for herself. "It is good to see you well. How is Isla? I hear rumours of a blonde spectre haunting the tower."

Arran grinned. While her father and cousins had tried to dissuade her from her adventures to the tower, Duncan had encouraged them. In his letters he often suggested strategy's and ideas – none of which she took on board but the thought was there nonetheless. Arran folded her arms on the table and rested her head on them. "She's well. Got a crush on a boooooy there. She's all googly eyed and keeps writing about love and her heart fluttering. Pah!" Arran rolled her eyes and sighed, blue eyes looking up at Duncan.

"A boy huh? And what about you, anyone special?"

"Naw, not really." She grinned. "There's been lots of boys, but none of them special."

"Arran!" Cyrion was exasperated, and stared at her.

"I'm kidding Daddy!" She teased, sitting up, and leaning back in her chair. "Just kidding."

It was at this point Soris finally got into the house, took off his boots and fell into a chair around the table. Shianni joined them, and they whiled away the evening talking. It wasn't until Cyrion had gone to bed, as had her cousins that she got some time alone with her uncle.

He was sat outside the house, on the small step and was puffing contemplatively on his pipe. Looking up at the stars. Arran joined him, arms wrapped around her knees.

"I've got a proposal for you, Arran." He said gently.

"Hmm?"

"You're a young woman now, and take after your mother."

Arran wasn't sure where this proposal was going. She gave him a sidelong glance. He ignored her, and carried on. "You've got her spirit, her natural talent for getting up to mischief, her grace and all her talent with that blade of yours. It's obvious you are not happy here. How would you like to become a Grey Warden?"

The young elf stared at him openly, a deep frown forming on her face. "Really?"

He nodded. "Yes. But not now. You need to live your life a little, grow up a little more. Maybe get a bit more sensible. And of course, improve the combat skills that your mother gave you."

Arran's face split into a grin. "That, Duncan, sounds like a fine plan."

Four Years Later...

"I want this elf out of the city tonight!" The guard captain growled.

"Yes, of course." Duncan said, nodding his agreement to the man. "Arran, pack your things and say your goodbyes, I'll meet you here."

Arran nodded, and ran back to her house. Shianni was already there, with Cyrion pushing a warm cup of tisane into her hands. "Arran!" He exclaimed, rushing towards her as she entered. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine father, listen...I'm sorry...but I've got to go with Duncan."

"What?"

"He used the right of conscription to save my ass from jail. I took full responsibility, so Soris has nothing to worry about."

"Arran..."

"Daddy, please. This is what I want. This is what I've always wanted." She took his hands in hers, and looked at him with those big, imploring blue eyes. Her mother had those eyes.

"Both my daughters gone..." He sighed, feeling the tears prick the back of his eyes.

"No Dad." Arran said firmly, her hands cupping his cheeks. "This is my chance. I'm going to get Isla, and I'll come back and get you, and we'll go where there are no humans to rule over us. We'll have a farm. With a horse, and cows. And a sheep."

Cyrion laughed, "And you say you're not a dreamer, little one." He pulled her into a hug. "Let me pack you a bag." With that he turned, disappearing into the back of the house. Arran moved to Shianni, kneeling before her. Her fingers reached up to stroke her cousin's cheek. "Are you ok, Shianni?"

She offered a weak smile. "I will be. I've only told them he beat me, I don't want everyone treating me like a fragile flower."

"That's my girl." Arran replied, standing up and setting her hands on her hips. "And if anyone ever bothers you again, tell them your big cousin the Grey Warden will come and feed them to darkspawn!" Shianni giggled, beginning to feel a little more like herself. "I'll see you soon, cousin?"

"Of course!" Arran smiled, and her father returned, giving her a ready packed bag and a pair of boots. "These were your mothers – it seems fitting that you take them now. Be safe, little one."

Arran kissed both Shianni and Cyrion, and left.

That Evening...

"Are you sure you are willing to take a watch?" Duncan said, eyeing Arran suspiciously. She was up to something, he could feel it. She had that gleam in her eye, that gleam she got when she thought she had a plan.

"Positive Duncan." She offered him an endearing smile. "You're an old man, and you need your sleep."

"Don't be cheeky!" Duncan chided, retreating into his tent, and settling down for a few hours rest. As much as he saw Arran as a surrogate daughter, she was very trying. He had no idea how Cyrion had ever coped with her.

He awoke his designated three hours later, and emerged from the tent to a dying fire and a stick in the ground, a note that was attached to it fluttered in the breeze.

"Andraste's' Cunt!" He cursed, snatching the note and reading it.

Dearest, Loveliest Uncle Duncan.

Sorry, but I have to go and get Isla. I'm already a fugitive from the law, what harm is my sister joining me? I would appreciate your help if you feel the need to give it. After all, you know me and plans!

(At this point in the letter, Arran had drawn a little stick person with a big smiley face)

All my love,

Arran.

Duncan crushed the letter in his hands. "The tower! She's gone to the bloody tower!" And with that he moved to pack up his tent and belongings. Time to give chase.

At the Tower.

Despite having taken his vows two years ago, Cullen was still astounded at the amount of time he spent standing around. He could now hold his breath for up to four minutes on a good day, and right now was going for a nice round five. The door behind him burst open, and a young mage bolted past him. Cullen recognised him as Isla's friend Jowan, and the youth looked back at him desperately. Cullen could hear other templars shouting after him, and so made to withdraw his sword. But the dark haired lad threw something to the ground which exploded.

The shock bomb knocked Cullen to his feet, dazing him for another minute. During this time he could swear he felt something slip past him and into the tower.

The templar went to strike Isla across the face. She knew she had made a bad decision – she had no idea Jowan was a Maleficar, but then ignorance was not an excuse. She knew her friendship with him made things look really bad – and she had fallen for his story of forbidden love. After all, she had considered it enough times herself. She'd been stupid, and reckless, and would have to face the consequences. Isla prepared herself for the blow, and winced. She heard the clang of metal on metal, and then the heavy thump of someone's body hitting the ground. There was the clang of templar armour on the stone floor.

"DON'TYOU TOUCH MY SISTER!"

Isla opened her eyes. Her sister was there, here, in the tower. She had Fang and another blade drawn, and was in that slight crouched stance she took when she was about to gut someone.

"Arran!" Isla breathed, not quite believing what was happening. Arran glanced over her shoulder, and flashed Isla a grin. "Hey."

The templars were hesitating. It was one thing to rush in and bring down a mage, it was quite another to bring down a spitting ally cat. Willhiem was curled up in a ball on the floor, and he was wearing full plate armour. They didn't want to know how she found his family jewels, but she had and the poor guy was feeling the effects of her kick.

The sound of hurrying feet filled the silence, and in the door appeared Cullen, with Duncan in tow. "Wait!" Duncan shouted, desperation creeping into his voice.

The first enchanter turned, looking to the two new additions to the fray. "Duncan?" The old man tilted his head, quizzically. "What on Thedas?"

"My apologies, First Enchanter. My newest recruit is a little...impulsive. And resourceful, it would seem." Duncan caught his breath, and walked forward.

"Arran, put away your weapons."

"Not until they put away theirs!" She growled, tightening her grip upon Fang.

"No!" Greagoir was spitting coals. "She helped a Maleficar! She needs to be punished!"

"I didn't know he was a bloody Blood Mage!" Isla had regained her senses, but still stood behind her sister, the protective meat shield.

"Nice cussing sis."

"Shut up!"

Duncan by this point had edged forward, and also stood between Isla and the templars. "Please, gentlemen. Let us talk about this in a more civilised manner. I give you my word that Arran will not harm anyone, and you can easily contain Isla in a classroom with a skilled templar."

Irving nodded. "This is a sensible plan, this all needs explaining. Greagoir?"

"Fine." The knight-Commander hissed. "Cullen, take these two to my office and keep a close eye on them."

"Yes Ser." Cullen narrowed his eyes at Arran, who grinned and began to slip away her weapons. He gestured to the doorway, and as the three of them moved into the corridor, he hissed a whisper at Arran. "Nice...Plan..."

"Wasn't it?" She grinned, linking arms with her sister. "First one that worked too, I think."

Isla laughed, and leant her head against her sister''s shoulder. "You had to have one eventually. Luckily for me you managed to save my ass!"