A/N: This is not strictly canon, I've tried to just use my memory to work through important plot points - some dialogue just stands out as being great, and needed to end up in here, but usually I wrote it how I remember it (rather than how it might be?). Interactions occur with most of the NPC characters, including Cullen, Duncan, Alistair, Morrigan, Zevran, Wynne, Jowan and more.

The tale of a bookish elven mage, raised in the seclusion of the Tower of Magi, exposed to the world and becoming a soldier, a commander and leader through necessity in order to save the world from the Blight and live up to the moniker she has embraced - the Grey Warden. Through pestilence, ice, war, and the ravaging taint upon the land, she strives to find a way to reconcile her ignorance of the real world, and the pariah her nature is made into by it.

SPOILER WARNING: That being said, this is my spoiler warning for Dragon Age:Origins, Dragon Age: Awakening, as well as the two books by Gaider, The Calling and The Stolen Throne. I use information from all of them in contributing to this.

Dragon Age is the property of Bioware, I make no profit from this, I just love the universe(s) they and their writers think up, and can't help but get sucked into them in my imagination!

"Of course, First Enchanter." Neria Surana gave a little bow and motioned for the Grey Warden to follow her.

"I hear a congratulations are in order?" Duncan clasped his hands behind him and looked down to the young elf beside him.

Tucking her snowy hair behind an elongated ear, Neria's cheeks delicately flushed, "Oh - thank you, ser. I am glad it's over with. Just another mage in the Tower now."

"Do not discount the merit demonstrated in surviving the Harrowing," Duncan strode slowly beside her through the hall, "There are many who do not have the strength to even face it - let alone the sheer will to command themselves through it."

"That is kind of you to say."

"How do you find life here in the Tower?"

Pensive, Neria kept her eyes down as she replied, "It is all I have ever known. I can barely remember anything before it."

"The First Enchanter mentioned you came from an alienage."

Cheeks aflame, Neria blurted, "He was talking about me?"

Duncan lightly laughed and raised a hand, "Only the highest of praise, I assure you. He said you made it through your Harrowing in record time." They walked a few more paces, "I am always curious of the lives of elves. Are you treated equally here?"

Though a thousand remarks filled her sharp mind, Neria cast Duncan a sideways glance and observed, "I am a mage... that will only ever afford me so much equality."

"Sadly true." The gentleman grumbled in his own way, his voice lower as he said, "I have never agreed with the methods the Chantry employs. Especially now, when we may be on the cusp of a Blight." Duncan sighed, "I apologize."

Neria shook her head, watching the man, "No, please - I have read a little about such things. I would love to know more."

Taken by the young woman's enthusiasm, Duncan inclined his head and continued, "The king rallies an army at Ostagar, on the northern edge of the Korcari Wilds." Neria nodded and he continued, "There, a great darkspawn horde has been amassing. The Grey Wardens fear they may be doing so at the behest of an archdemon."

"Darkspawn... they are what clog the Deep Roads and plague the once dwarven thaigs?"

Duncan's lips parted in a smile as they reached his room, and he regarded the young elf, "Yes. Though sometimes they come topside in small raiding bands." His smile faded, replaced by the weight of his knowledge, "Historically, they only come to the surface in such numbers when driven by an archdemon ."

"That doesn't sound very good for Ferelden." Neria stopped and said, "I'm sorry, good ser - I'm wasting your time with my curiosities."

Duncan shook his head, smile in his eyes as he said, "Not at all, miss. I am glad to address any questions of yours."

"You are too kind. It is rare that I've been allowed to speak with anyone who doesn't spend their lives in the Tower. Even the templars are stationed here at length."

"I can only imagine." Duncan motioned towards the table nearby, "My meetings do not resume till morning if you'd care to join me for food and drink. I would gladly continue our discussion."

Some time later when the elf had left his company, Duncan found himself reflecting back to his early days as a Warden, when he had first visited the Ferelden Circle of Magi. He had always harboured something for the peculiar tendencies of mages, offering sympathy for their persecution.

Neria also reminded him of another elven mage that he had known then, a friend and ally separate from the would-be seducer. It reminded him of the letter he needed to post before sweeping back towards Ostagar. The letter he had been delaying sending for some time.

Spinning down the hall, Neria realized she had imbibed far too much wine - when truthfully, anything would have been too much for. She had always kept away from the contraband other apprentices smuggled in, wishing to keep her mind clear for her studies and practise.

And now it had paid off - who else in the entire Tower had spent the night conversing with a famed Grey Warden! She had once found some scrolls she knew she, nor any others, were probably supposed to see. Things had always been tumultuous in the tower, but Duncan himself had been here when the late king and the Hero of River Dane had reclaimed it from deviant Orlesians.

To think he had spoke of it too! She had surprised him with her knowledge of history. Catching others off-guard with her scholastic aptitude was one of Neria's most favoured activities.

It was clear he had seen and experienced more than she would ever know in her life ferreted away in the Tower. Even if she did make it into the world to attend the College or work in Denerim, what could she possibly expect to happen in her life?

Neria had sapped up the stories the Warden had of the outside world, of his travels far and wide. As if the adventures weren't enough to satisfy, that voice! The rich, knowledgeable accent that carried so much.

Turning down the quiet hall, Neria giggled slightly to herself. Such was her fantasy, truly! First Cullen, and now the bearded, muscular Grey Warden who was old enough to be her -

"Cullen! I - I mean, good ser, I am sorry." The young elf stammered and blushed as she practically ran into the tall templar.

"It is alright, m'lady." Cullen smiled quickly and stepped back, looking the elf over. "I-I'm glad to see your Harrowing went well. Glad to um, see you're all right."

Cullen, the dashing templar Neria fancied since she could first remember noticing men weren't too terrible to look at. She remembered when he'd been transferred to the Tower, a man when all her companions were boys. Fiery facial hair and short, wiry locks, he had always been kind to her, when many of the templars were cold and derisive.

Perhaps things would improve now that she'd passed her Harrowing – now that she'd proven her mettle.

"I am, thank you ser." Neria couldn't help but smile when she may have otherwise been tight-lipped, were she sober.

There was something off about the woman, Cullen thought, her usual cool demeanour given way. "You're ah... out in the halls a bit late."

The nights he had dreamed of her, of the quiet words she offered him and the way her eyes creased at their small talk. He had made her laugh a few times, often quoting some text he had read as a boy in the Chantry in a self-depreciating way. She had a softer side that she kept hidden beneath her studious veneer. Being one of the very few female elves made her a beauty in the Tower, and it had been clear since she was in her early teens she much preferred people to ignore it in favour of her intellect.

Cullen could recall some months ago when her friend – Jowan, that was it, the one whose order to become Tranquil just came through, the man made him uneasy – had been teasing her about another elf apprentice who had been talking to him about her. Neria had cut him down with sharp, cold wit. She took care of her appearance, and the snowy hue of her hair, even her eyes, coupled with how she brushed off the advances of the other apprentices and her fascination with frost magic's, had earned her the nickname of 'ice queen'.

That frigid moniker was nowhere to be found at the moment.

"Did you know there's a Grey Warden here?" Neria asked as she looked around, before stepping closer to him. "He was telling me all about the impending war with the darkspawn. It was fascinating!"

Allowing himself a small smile, Cullen replied, "Aye m'lady, some of the templars went with the mages that were summoned to aid the king."

"Can you imagine that? Seeing so much of the world, even just on the way there!" Neria's dilated eyes drifted, and one of her hands fell on his chest to steady herself. "Suppose I will have to be satisfied with stories."

For a moment, the templar felt a twinge of pity for the elven mage, knowing her life had and would be spent in the confines of the Tower, scrutinized and under lock and key. But as much as he may feel sorry for her, Cullen would never deny its necessity. She may not have asked to be a mage, but she was, and for the betterment of the world, here she would stay.

Maker protect her from temptation that he would never have to cut her down.

Cullen cleared his throat, eyes down to the hand on his chest. Neria bit her lip, and it stirred the physical draw in his gut as she looked up to him.

"Before I was stationed in the Tower, my duty took me to some of the more wild lands of Ferelden."

"Perhaps you would regale me with tales some time, ser?"

The templar imagined the newly initiated mage would not wish to hear of the apostates and maleficarum whose lives ended in his travels – even if by his duty, he should speak of it as a warning to her. He made an unsure sound.

Bolstered by the wine warm in her, Neria flushed more darkly as she said, "Perhaps you'd rather show me? It is late, I'm certain we could find somewhere private?"

Sweet Andraste, was she...no, no... him of all people! Like a vision from a dream.

"I – if you're saying... oh I couldn't... I have patrols I m-must attend to... I should go."

Fleeing at the offer was all Cullen could do, leaving Neria standing alone in the hallway. The mage sighed and leant on the wall as she realized what she'd said. She hoped the coming weeks would bring an end to the isolation she'd felt growing up. The real mages in the Circle seemed to appreciate her studious nature. It was hard to find those willing to give time to an elf, let alone anyone worthwhile.

Moving down the stairs, Neria turned at a familiar sound.

"Whaaat?" She whispered.

"Do you know how much trouble I could get in? I've been waiting for you for an hour."

Relaxing, Neria looked to the shadows where Jowan was, her elven eyes picking him out. "Well I'm a mage now, I can't always be going down to fraternize with the apprentices. Besides, you like getting yourself in trouble."

"Very funny," Jowan crossed his arms and she grinned.

"I can be when the mood strikes."

"Believe me, I know." Jowan gave her a quick hug, "I'm just glad you're alright. What did they make you do? They told me you were in the infirmary well into the afternoon. Apparently some never even come back!"

"You know I can't talk about it, Jowan..."

The young man looked down the hall nervously, "I know, it's just I'm older than you, and I've yet to go through my Harrowing."

"They'll call on you soon enough," Neria quietly said, shivering at the memory of the Fade. Her studies couldn't have prepared her for the reality of it. She would give anything to be able to tell her childhood friend what awaited, that she might ease his burden.

But what if her telling him impacted the ritual or affected his will somehow? Being the cause of his death at the templar's hands would be much worse.
"You're more right than you think." Jowan's eyes grew distant.

"Oh?"

"I was told that the First Enchanter..."

"Told you what, Jowan?"

"They're going to make me Tranquil, Neria. They think I'm a threat. Unstable or something."

The elf clasped a hand over her mouth, sobered from her woozy state by his words. Recovering a little, she put the hand on his arm, "That can't be, you're capable and a good person."

"I had suspected it before, what with how long I've been an apprentice." Jowan turned away, his hands animated, "But I can't – I just can't become that. Not not, not with..."

Neria looked down the hall as they heard the templar patrol.

"Meet me in the sanctuary tomorrow after midday? I need your help."

"I – all right. Go."

As Jowan disappeared into the stairwell, Neria strode out to intercept the guard and ensure her friend's escape.

How was she getting pulled into this – why would he even ask her? Jowan of all people should know how uncomfortable it would make her.

Neria stood outside the chapel in a bit of a haze.

The man was in love with one of the Chantry initiates. Even if he weren't an apprenticed mage, that would have consequences itself! It seemed to her that love made a person do ridiculous things. Life was complicated enough without trying to add someone else to the equation.
Was it her place to question any of it? Destroying his phylactery to help them escape – what would become of her? She could go... no, no she couldn't go with them! She had overheard the templars talking of their hunts more than once, the mages they killed – apostates. Dangerous individuals that were disposed of for everyone's better. If they failed, it would be worse than if Jowan were made Tranquil – if they spared him.

Was she willing to die just for the chance that Jowan might escape with Lily – that they might evade the templars long enough? Even if they didn't kill her, the ridicule of recapture, the shame, the loss of trust she'd earned.

Neria could still remember the only time she'd slipped up and how swiftly the templars had reacted. She had been a little girl, new to the Tower and to her own burgeoning power. The area had been swept, cleansed of magic, and it felt like the air and life had been sucked from her.

Shivering, Neria wrapped her arms around herself, straightening her back as she saw a young apprentice she knew coming round the bend in the hall.

Jowan would have never known about the rite if it weren't for Lily. How could he be with her?

Maker's mercy, and Cullen... somewhere in the fog of her dancing mind she remembered scaring the templar off the night before. She had drunk far too much. Her cheeks burned and she strode away from the oncoming apprentice.

She had to speak with him, she had always been able to approach the First Enchanter. He had taken an interest in her tutelage years ago, he was kindly and firm. Neria knew others found him stuffy and strict, but that was the structure she appreciated, and knew the direction had strengthened her as a mage and scholar.

In Irving's private offices, the young mage fell under his questioning, and the truth spilled out when he indicated the templars had knowledge of Jowan's dallying with blood magic. It seemed her childhood friend had been keeping more from her than the illicit relationship with the sister, and now they would be a pawn for the biting politics that volleyed between the Circle and the Chantry.

"How did you know of this plan? Do they trust you?"

It seemed like there was no way out. She had passed the point she could simply let them try and escape on their own. Neria scarce realized she was speaking.

"Yes, First Enchanter." She was small, she was doing as she was told, she was doing what was best.

If that were the case, why did she feel so ill?

Irving continued to speak of the evidence found, of what was to come. The First Enchanter had no reason to lie or falsify stories – and even if... if the templars killed mages... they wouldn't fabricate Jowan studying blood magic. That stupid, stupid man.

"Oh Maker," Neria put her hands over her mouth, closing her eyes.

"My child, are you all right?"

She was a full mage now. She had responsibility and duty. She had to grow up.

"Yes, ser. Just tell me what you wish me to do."

Hurrying up the steps behind Jowan, Cullen's betrayed eyes were the first thing Neria saw. A troupe of templars and the First Enchanter were waiting for them. The bottom fell out of her stomach.

"Sister... what is the meaning of this?"

"Knight-Commander, I –"

"And you! Neria, of all people, newly made a mage, I thought you had better sense..."

Neria cringed back against the statue flanking the left side of the cellar door, "I –"

"She was acting on my behalf, Gregoire."

"What? Neria – Neria is that true?" Jowan looked at her, and his crushed expression one that would haunt her. "How could you?"

She had betrayed him. She had set her closest friend into a trap.

"They – they said they found you studying blood magic, Jowan."

"What? No – I – Lily," he turned to the woman whose hand he held. "I just wanted to be able to love you."

"Take them. Jowan, your tranquillity rite will be pushed forward. But Lily... breaking your vows and abetting a known blood mage will land you in Aeonar. Quincy," the Knight-Commander motioned to her with his order.

"Th-the mage's prison?" Lily rasped, paling.

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan produced a knife from his belt and gouged his hand open. The blood spilt and magnified at his feet, sluicing and coming alive at the utterance on his tongue. The impact of force staggered the templars, throwing all of them to the ground.

"Come on, Lily – this is our chance!"

"Jowan – you... you're a blood mage!" Lily cried, her eyes already glistening with tears, "You lied to me." When he reached for her again, she recoiled, eyes blinking dry and heart shattered, "Blood magic is evil, Jowan - Stay away from me!"

He left a bloody haze in his wake, the ground spattered with gore. Neria looked down as she scrambled up. Blood on her robes. He was a blood mage. She should feel better, she had always gotten satisfaction when she was right and Jowan was wrong. But she would never see him again. If the templars found him, would he be brought back? Or would he resist and die, with his love locked away in Aeonar? What else was he capable of?

"You've forsaken your vows to the Maker, Lily."

"I will not resist, ser," she whispered, immobilized with shock, when freedom and the ideal of love had been so close.

The templar's helmeted gaze rest on Neria as she drew her hands into her robes. They were talking, she could make out the words, but she couldn't take her eyes off the blood. She had never seen so much of it in her life.

Pulling to her senses, she knelt to help the First Enchanter to his feet.

"She was assisted them under my orders, Gregoire. She played no part in their plan and had no intention of leaving the Tower. It is because of her that the blood mage and sister were exposed."

"Yes, and now that same mage has escaped, and we are without a phylactery to track him! This will not go unpunished."

"Perhaps the Chantry needs to keep matters of rites and security more tight-lipped?" The First Enchanter beckoned to Neria, and she moved under his wing, the soaked hem of her robes leaving a broken trail of blood behind.

Blood, there was so much blood. She would have thought she'd faint or retch, but she felt cold, she felt hard. She was the ice queen.
Clearing from the hall, Irving spoke of his pride in her execution of such a trying situation. It was only as the Grey Warden approached that Neria felt her thoughts move from the bog they were sunk in.

"A difficult but necessary role that you fulfilled, miss."

"Thank you, ser." Neria inclined her head, the look passed between Duncan and Irving almost missed by the woman.

"This only reinforces my request, Irving. She is able to do what she must under duress."

The First Enchanter sighed and nodded, drawing Neria's gaze, "My child, as you know, Duncan came to the Circle seeking a recruit for the Grey Wardens."

Icy eyes veiled by pale lashes, Neria said, "Me? You wish me to join the Grey Wardens?"

"A mage can make all the difference in battle, cutting enemies down and sustaining allies. Irving has told me of your prowess as an apprentice – even as young as you are – and of your studies as a healer too. I have seen your intellect myself first hand." Duncan's expression lightened only a moment, "Seeing how you handled the unfortunate incident with the blood mage only strengthens my resolve to have you as my recruit.

"While I would prefer you be allowed to join voluntarily, I am able to conscript you if need be."

Neria looked to the First Enchanter, pursing her lips closed to conceal her surprise.

"It is your choice, child. I can think of few others as capable to take up the mantle. And if you stay, there will... undoubtedly be repercussions to what happened today."

Jowan was gone, and it would be no time before everyone knew what had happened. It might be better being no longer being an apprentice, but how could she know? Gossip had always been a bothersome thing to Neria, but confinement always contributed to its virulence. And the templars – if the Knight-Commander was that angry, how would the others treat her? Gregoire was moderate to some by comparison. She would feel the strain of what happened.

More simply than that, she was a mage. This was an opportunity for freedom the likes of which she would never see again. Even if she died in the war, it seemed to Neria that being out in the world a few short weeks might mean more than a lifetime in the Tower.

Even if the Tower was her home. It was the only thing she'd ever known, she rarely begrudged her life there. She was fed, clothed, sheltered, and educated – she knew as an elf, especially an elf, it was better than most people had. She had those who smiled at her successes, encouraged her, even if her friends were few.

Neria wanted to smell the woods and feel a gale. Something tightened in her chest as she found her fragile voice, "I would be honoured to join the Grey Wardens, ser."

"Then you have the night to prepare. We depart for Ostagar at dawn."

Hands crossing over his chest, Duncan bowed to Irving, and Neria returned the gesture. The First Enchanter's hand found her shoulder as she watched the Warden walk away.

"Take this time to say your farewells. I will prepare you a pack for your travels."

Neria hadn't even had time to move her things from the apprentice quarters. Down by her trunk in the dormitory, she went through her meagre possessions, the books she favoured needing to be returned to the library, and the journal she kept. It was the only thing she'd bring. It and another blank book or two, parchment. She would be able to draw so much more now.

It was their leisure time after the evening meal, so the dorm was mostly empty. Her name echoed through the hall as another elf burst in the door. He ran over to her and put a hand on either of the bunks to block where she sat.

"Neria – is it true? The hall was buzzing at supper!"

Neria ran a hand over the leather journal before putting it aside, "It depends on what you've heard?"

"That Jowan's a blood mage - that he escaped, and now you've been recruited into the Grey Wardens for helping expose him?"

The woman cringed, looking into her lap as her cheeks flushed, "That... was not the only reason, Romel."

"But it's true," he gaped.

"I leave in the morning with the Warden. I... doubt I will ever be back." Neria laughed oddly, "If I survive the war. I'm going to war. I've never been outside this Tower that I can remember, and I'm going to war." She put her hands over her face.

The bed sunk with weight and she felt a hand on her thigh. Her fingers spreading, Neria looked at Romel. He had flaxen hair with ruddy undertones. His nose was almost too big, but it suited him, and he had golden eyes. And he had beautiful ears, even if he wasn't the best apprentice, she had tried to appreciate their kinship.

"I'll get to see the world, right?"

Romel nodded and kept looking at her as her pale cheeks flushed, and she gathered her journals together again.

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever known, Neria. I wanted to see you before you left."

"What - me?" She scoffed and made a nervous click, "I rarely gave you the time of day, even though we're some of the only elven apprentices - well, were..."

Romel leaned more closely, his hand creeping up her thigh as he did, "I know. And Jowan's not around anymore."

Neria scooted up the bed as she rationalized, "Jowan? I never liked him that way - honestly, I should g-go say goodbye to -"

Her words cut away as he caught her and kissed her. Neria tensed in surprise, her cheeks warming rose before she tugged away, nearly falling back on the bed. She knocked her books off as she scrambled to her feet.

"Ehm I - I am flattered, truly." Neria stooped to gather her books, her voice airy to conceal the distress, "I wish you the best, Romel."

The elf sat and licked his lips as Neria scattered, unable to keep from grinning at his conquest.

Books, books, would keep her from seeming an open invite, right? Neria shook her head, regaining her demeanour as she dropped off the books to the library and gratefully accepted the librarian's praise.

Maker, word spread faster than a plague.

Turning out of the library, she saw one of the few people she wanted to, and scurried towards his post. She could see the nervous furrow on his brow as she came closer.

"Cullen - ah, please, don't run off?" Neria smiled as politely as she could, "I wanted to see you before I go."

His expression clouded.

"Just see - a-and apologize for being out of line the other night. I'd had a bit much wine."

"Oh... ah." Cullen clasped his hands together behind him, eyes averted. "It is alright, m'lady. It-it was flattering but -"

"I'm leaving in the morning. Or does gossip not get to templars as quickly as mages."

"What?"

Neria tried to relax her shoulders, looking up to the older man. "Well, Duncan, the Grey Warden... has recruited me."

"Really? I - um... that's great to hear. Is it?" His stomach flipped as he looked down at her flowering smile.

All these years he had watched her, seen her blossom into a beautiful woman, admired her what he could. Life might be easier without her presence, the impossible dreams of a normal life could be released.

"I suppose," Neria said with a close-lipped smile, "I'll get to see from here all the way to Ostagar - and who knows where else."

If I survive.

She might not survive, Cullen realized, and his expression gave him away as he said, "Oh..."

"Thank you for always being so kind, ser."

"Well... you get what you received, r-right? I'm just... well I don't know if anyone er, ever said but I.. I was given the job of... ending it if you became an abomination during your Harrowing."

"You...would you have?"

Cullen blinked and his head twitched, almost blushing, "I mean, yes it would have been my duty - but I would have felt terribly about it. I... I'm glad it didn't come to that, tha - that's what I mean... and that you will get to... see the world."

"I'm glad too..."

The templar shifted his weight, looking at her as he added, "And I was... glad to hear you weren't helping Jowan." Cullen's expression hardened, "That he got away... that an initiate was involved with him..."

"Right, yes." Neria replied, looking down.

"You did the right thing. Blood magic is evil. Maker help us, it was how Tevinter enslaved many of the elves and so much more."

"You know about that?"

"Of course I do," Cullen found his voice when he spoke of history and the Chantry - it was his confidence, his faith, "This redeems - fighting the darkspawn, killing those who corrupted the Golden City..."

Neria's eyes almost glazed as she felt more of her childhood slip away. No matter how his eyes had tracked her, no matter the indefatigable flutter he rose in her stomach, she would always be a mage, and he a templar. He was still speaking of his faith when he noticed her gaze.

"Ehm... s-sorry, you probably have a lot of people to see."

The mage gave a respectful nod, reaching to touch his breastplate, "I hope life treats you well, ser."

"Maker watch over you, Neria."

Her smile was genuine, and in an impulsive moment, Neria rose on her toes to kiss his cheek. It rooted Cullen to the floor, his blush far surpassing her own as she walked away. His breath finally escaped as he realized, thank the Maker, no one saw.