Archive of Our Own

I. Money

Money, it seems, will buy just about anything.

It will even buy a certain amount of preferential treatment for a young boy who is fond of words and of numbers.

Mostly he is fond of words, because he is good at stringing them one after the other and knowing how to lock them together to make sentences, like pieces in a big wooden puzzle.

He reads a lot, because he learned to read early and he reads everything he can get his tiny hands on. His father gives him the Chant and he reads that. He doesn’t understand most of it, but parts of it are exciting and his father can brag about him.

Numbers don’t come quite as naturally to the boy, but he finds them soothing and fascinating. His favorite digit is eight, because it’s all curves and beauty, and because every time eight is doubled the new number seems to be doubly handsome as the previous one. Sixteen and thirty-two and sixty-four and one-twenty-eight and two-fifty-six and so on and so on are all very strong, stately numbers.

The boy likes to count things, and is particularly pleased when a thing that he counts adds up to eight or sixteen or thirty-two. There are eight trees outside the estate, and sixteen steps leading up to their doorway, and thirty-two windows on the first floor. One time he counted how many steps it took him to walk from the door to the local Chantry, and was disappointed to find that the number was a terribly unpleasant one that didn’t look at all pretty when written out, nor did it sound pretty when said aloud.

Sometimes life is disappointing, he supposes.

He counts letters in words. There are seven letters in his first name, which is Florian, and which he is not thrilled about because it is one letter off from being eight. There are thirty in his full name, Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, which is a nice round number, and he likes to keep it at that because if he counts the Esquire then it changes to thirty-seven which is not nearly so round.

He is eight when he discovers, quite by accident, that he is a mage. He discovers this because someone rearranged the books in the library. Actually, the boy was the one who had originally arranged them so they were in a alphabetical order, which was logical, and the servant was the one who was going through and rearranging them so they were sorted by subject first and then by color. It looked nicer, the boy’s parents said. He is terribly displeased by this, and sits and sort of glares at the books and wishes that they would arrange themselves for him, at which point he realizes that he can actually wiggle the books and make them fall over just by thinking it.

He tells his parents about it. After he rearranges the books.

And so he is eight when armored men come and take him away to Kinloch Hold. They are scary, but overall kind and gentle with him. He doesn’t realize it at the time, but it is because his parents have a lot of money.

“Goodbye, Florian, darling,” his parents tell him. “We’ll visit when we can. And be sure to write!” They aren’t terribly saddened by his departure. Magic runs in their family line, and their genealogy is dotted with talented mages who served the Circle and the Chantry with honor and dignity. This was something else to brag about, that although the Maker had chosen in his infinite, mysterious wisdom to curse the Aldebrants with a mage child, so the family would show its humility and devotion by giving the child to the Circle.

Also, they wouldn’t have to look after the strange little boy who liked to count things anymore.

The servant is sent back to the library to clean up his mess right after he leaves.

II. Dormitory

The other kids at the Circle are not terribly nice to him.

They call him Flora, which he hates. He chooses a new nickname: Finn. He likes writing it out. It looks good. And, of course, four is a much more handsome number than five. Or seven.

Still, they make fun of him, because he is odd. He reads a lot. Anything, really. It doesn’t matter what. The books here are, for the most part, much more interesting than the ones back at home. He reads books about magic and Tevinter history and linguistics. He keeps eight of them under his cot, neatly organized. The other kids rearrange them sometimes when he’s out of the dormitory. One time he catches them in the act and gets into a fight, which he would have lost, except he is very good at screaming bloody murder and it actually frightens the other kids into submission.

After that, the kids develop a sort of grudging respect for him. No one is willing to bunk with him anymore, so he has his own cot to himself.

There are twenty-two bunks in the dormitory. It would have been much better if there were twenty-four, which is a nice middle number between sixteen and thirty-two. But twenty-two is just off, and it bothers him. He still counts the bunks, sometimes, when he is feeling anxious, because the kids are loud and they drown out his thoughts. Counting helps.

He enjoys learning and he enjoys his classes. He learns to control and direct his magic, which he finds fascinating. He learns more about history and linguistics, although mostly on his off hours. The other kids make fun of him for reading when he doesn’t have to, but he learns to use self-deprecating humor to brush it off.

Finn is different and weird and doesn’t really have a lot of friends. He hangs out with other kids who are different and weird— mostly elves. They had elven servants back home, but he has never seen elves around his age before. They’re nice to him, for the most part. They value history more than the humans do, and don’t find it terribly odd that he likes reading about it.

The biggest obstacle he has adjusting to Circle life is his struggle between cleanliness and privacy. In the Circle, everything is shared, and this includes the baths. It’s bad enough that they all have to take baths in the same, big room, but they also have to share everything. Towels, soap. Finn hates it, but he hates feeling dirty only slightly more, so he puts up with it.

The standard issue robes, too, are dingy hand-me-downs that have been worn by dozens of prior apprentices. Finn complains about it to his parents in a letter, one time, and after that money changes hands and he gets brand new robes, which he refuses to let anyone else touch.

The other kids are jealous. Why does he get a new robe when the rest of them don’t? They tease him about it, but the templars manage to keep things under control, for the most part.

The templars, oddly enough, always seem to take his side.

III. Healing

When he is a few years older he gets to pick an academic specialization. Well, his parents choose it for him. Most of the kids don’t even have that luxury. The templars and the enchanters get together and decide which discipline of magic would best suit each apprentice. Finn’s parents decide their boy would be a most wonderful spirit healer, and so that is how it is.

More money is probably involved. Finn doesn’t know for sure.

He enjoys learning about spirit healing. He especially enjoys delving into the history of it all. He borrows a book from the library called Spirit Healers Through the Ages and takes it back to his bunk and reads it. Someone has drawn pictures of tigers in the margins, which is annoying, because he prefers his books to be new and pristine.

The class itself is also fascinating to him. He learns about spirits and the Fade and other things he would never have learned at home. He takes to spellwork very well, and quickly moves up to a more advanced class with older kids. They make fun of him, a bit, because every year his parents send him flashy new robes and between his parents’ money and being the teacher’s pet he’s an easy target.

But he stays mostly quiet and tells a few jokes here in there and fits in well enough after a few days.

He doesn’t really make a lot of friends, though, despite the number of interesting people in his class. There is a girl about his age who is very sweet to him and smiles at him a lot, and he’s not sure what to make of that. There’s an elf boy who calls him a “shemlen” until Finn buddies up with him for an assignment and helps him get the highest grade, at which point he suddenly becomes very nice to him. And there is an older boy, a skinny blond teenager, who is usually trying to wrangle the others into helping him pull off some sort of elaborate trick on the templars— some of which succeed, and some of which don’t, although the frequent failures and the subsequent discipline that is then meted out to him never dampen his enthusiasm for it. He disappears from class for a while once, and Finn thinks maybe he is gone for good, because that happens to the older kids, sometimes. But then he comes back a few weeks later and he’s sullen and pouts for a couple of days before he is back to his old shenanigans.

Eventually Finn is old enough to be given other assignments aside from class. They send him to work in the greenhouse garden, first, but he’s not very good at it. He is perhaps even worse with food when they give him a brief stint as a kitchen aide. Finally he gets to sort old books in the basement, and he is more than happy with this arrangement.

There’s a talking statue down there. Finn befriends it. It doesn’t judge him. Even more appealing is that there are no templars down here, and he can relax when he talks to it. The older he gets, the more anxious he is around templars, because he can tell that they’re hiding things.

He tells this to the elf boy from his class one day. The elf catches him down in the basement and asks why he likes spending so much time down there even when he’s done with his tasks. Finn doesn’t really want to tell him that he’s made friends with a talking statue. Instead, he tells him he likes avoiding the templars, which is partially true anyway.

“I know what you mean,” says the elf. He kicks the floor nervously with a scuffed shoe. “Did they yell at you, too, when they took you?”

They had been very gentle with him, actually. Considering. “What do you mean?” Finn asks.

“When they took me, they yelled at me and called me knife-ear. And other things. They dragged me away and I tripped and they kept dragging me. Scraped my knees up.” The boy shrugs. “You’re smart to try to stay away from them. Do you know what they do when you get older?”

“What?”

“There’s a thing called a Harrowing. Every mage has to do it. But no one knows what it is. Just that it’s a test, of some kind. If you pass, you become a full mage. If you don’t pass, you die.”

“You die?” Finn’s eyes widen.

“Well. I don’t know. The older kids say that though, right, because no one who fails ever comes back from it. I think the templars probably take you out back and run a sword through you.”

“They wouldn’t,” says Finn.

“They would too,” says the elf boy. “They would, and I know it and everyone knows it. Have you seen them when they look at you? They’re never nice, do you know why? They don’t want to get attached because they have to kill you.”

Finn doesn’t like where this conversation is going. “Well. I’ll just pass the test then.”

“Of course you can,” says the boy. “But not everyone can. Anyway. I better get back before they figure out I’m gone.”

He leaves and Finn is alone with the statue. He feels odd.

IV. Letters

Finn writes his parents every few months and they always dutifully write back. He starts dropping hints in the letters that he’s nervous about an upcoming test because he has heard rumors that it’s dreadfully difficult. He’s smart, and doesn’t come out and say what the elf boy told him, because that would just be ridiculous. But if he can get his parents on his side, if he can get them to pull some strings for him, then maybe the templars will be kind to him during that test.

They always reply with numerous platitudes about how they have no doubt that he will succeed in whatever challenges the Circle throws at him. He hopes that means they are sending the Chantry more money, because he’s old enough, now, to know how that works.

“Dearest Florian,” they always call him in their return letter. He doesn’t bother trying to tell him that he has a new name now, because he knows they’ll just ignore it.

It’s loud in the room when he writes his newest letter that day because the other apprentices won’t stop talking. It makes it hard for him to concentrate on his own thoughts, and that makes him irritable, so finally he moves to the library and writes his letter there instead.

Sixteen steps from library’s doorway to his favorite desk.

There are Tranquil in the library. He doesn’t really know much about them. Some of the older kids say they used to be mages. He wonders what happened to them. They unsettle him a bit. At least they like to organize and clean things. That is, if they can enjoy anything at all. He isn’t sure if they do.

In this letter he asks if he can ever return home to his family. He has a feeling that he already knows the answer— no one ever leaves the tower, it seems— but he decides that it’s worth it to check, and anyway, if anyone can pull strings with the Circle, his parents can.

He gets a reply some time later. “Dearest Florian,” it says, “Aren’t you happy in the Circle? You are providing a wonderful service for all of Thedas by keeping demons at bay for the rest of us. Remember what the Chant says: Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. And you are serving admirably and doing the Aldebrant name proud! Perhaps we will come visit you sometime.”

They never do.

V. Swimming

One day the enchanters say that they are going to try something new, and the apprentices are led outside for an hour to play.

Well, sort of. There isn’t exactly much to do on the strip of mud that surrounds the tower.

Some of the kids figure out things to do. They play tag, or hide-and-seek, or knucklebones. Most of them just sit around and talk.

Finn isn’t a huge fan of it. It’s all muddy and dirty and he doesn’t want to get any of it on his nice clean robes. Plus, there are templars everywhere, watching him and all the others, and he doesn’t really want to do anything while they stare at him. He’d rather be inside reading. At least then the templars stay at the doorway and he can sit farther away from them. So he stands close to the tower and waits for the dreadful period to be done with.

These dreary excursions are conducted every few days for about a month before they are suddenly halted with little fanfare. The last day outside ends when Finn hears a commotion from somewhere in the distance, and sees a lot of templars running about, and then all the apprentices are quickly herded inside.

Rumors fly about the tower, of course. Apparently some kid— “It was Anders, of course,” someone says— had taken advantage of a distracted templar to jump into the lake and swim for shore, and none of the templars could follow due to their heavy armor. Most of the apprentices speak of this event with a sort of awe and wonder, because who else, among them, would even dare trying to pull off a stunt like that?

“Do you think they’ll find him?” Someone asks.

“’course they will,” someone else says. “They’ve got his phylactery. They can track you. That’s what they do with that blood they take when you first come in.”

Secretly, Finn hopes that Anders is never found. Partially because it probably means they won’t be allowed outside anymore, which is exactly what he wants. And partially because he fears what they might do to him if they found him.

Anders is spoken of in whispers for the next couple of weeks. He is a legend, a hero, and “absolutely batshit” as one of the older apprentices put it. The rumors get so out of control that the enchanters actually have to issue a statement one day. First Enchanter Irving himself comes into the library when all of the apprentices are there studying. “There have been some rumors going around,” he says, “And I just want to set them straight. Yes, we have had an apprentice escape from the tower. I have reason to believe that he sees it all as a game, but do keep in mind that this is not a game. He will be found and will face discipline.”

The apprentices all look amongst themselves nervously. Finn has a pit in his stomach because Irving is nice enough to him but there, standing right next to him, looking impassively over the room, is Knight-Commander Greagoir. Finn remembers what his friend told him about mages who fail the big Harrowing test that comes up.

The templars wouldn’t kill you, would they?

He thinks Greagoir might.

“I do not want to see any copycat escapes,” Irving continues. “And you would all do well not to gossip.” He is quiet for a bit and then nods and smiles thinly. “That is all. You may return to your studies.”

Anders is eventually located and returned to the tower, although very few people see him when this occurs. People see him here and there but for the most part he seems to be kept under tight supervision, away from everyone else, and is not allowed to join them for either classes or recreation. This causes another flurry of rumors to spread until he is reintegrated back into larger Circle society after a couple of weeks.

Whatever had happened, he refuses to talk about it.

They aren’t allowed outside anymore after that, which Finn had hoped for and which he doesn’t have a problem with.

VI. Tranquility

The older Finn gets, the more conflicted he feels.

The Tower is comfortable and warm and clean and he can read and learn and analyze and study to his heart’s content.

But dark tendrils seem to crawl beneath it all and he doesn’t know if he can ever quite escape them.

Something happens to the girl who was kind to him and smiled in class. He doesn’t know what, exactly, he just sees her crying softly one night and notices that she is particularly afraid of the templars after that.

He has a bad feeling that he knows why she’s crying, but he doesn’t want to think about it, because the thought makes him sick, and he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about it.

Some of his friends, the ones a year or two older than him, slowly disappear from the apprentice quarters. Some of them he sees later in the upper levels of the tower, full-fledged mages now. One or two he finds Tranquil, and it’s uncomfortable to interact with them, knowing what they used to be compared to what they are now.

Some of them disappear entirely.

“It’s the templars,” his friend the elf tells him one day. They’re alone in the basement and Finn is organizing books again. Thirty-two on each row of each shelf. “They take them out back and kill them and throw their bodies in the lake. I bet they do!”

“They wouldn’t,” Finn says, although he’s increasingly less convinced of this. They would make a nice girl cry. What would stop them from killing people?

“They do!” The elf has conviction in his voice. “I know it. If you fail your Harrowing…”

“Do you even know what the Harrowing is yet?” Finn asks genuinely. He knows he’ll have to take that particular test very soon and the fact that he can’t even study for it is troubling him greatly.

The elf shakes his head. “Does it matter? It’s another test and if you fail it they kill you.” He looks down. “I don’t know if I can pass it. I don’t think I’m good enough with my magic. And they… they don’t care about elves. Not at all. We’re just another knife-ear from an alienage.”

“You’ll be okay,” says Finn. “Just let me know what you need help with and I can help.”

“I… wow. Thank you,” says the elf. “Really.”

Finn does his best to teach him. He makes some progress, but the elf is increasingly paranoid and difficult to teach— and it’s difficult for Finn to even concentrate on teaching him to begin with, because he is growing just as disturbed.

He writes a letter to his parents later. Hidden behind so many polite words, he reminds them that he is scared of the Harrowing and begs them to do whatever they have done to protect him so far.

They don’t write back for a few months. By that point, the elf has disappeared. Finn looks for him in vain after he notices his absence, and finally finds him in the supply room.

He has a sunburst brand on his forehead. “May I help you?” he asks.

It’s always put a unsettling knot in Finn’s stomach when he talks to Tranquil, but this is different, because this is his friend, and this time that knot is a panic that he cannot push back down. “Do… do you remember me?” he asks.

“Of course,” the elf replies, but it’s a soulless answer. “You are Finn. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Finn knows, then, that his old friend is gone and will never come back, and he turns and quickly strides out of the room without saying a word.

Dinner is a few hours later, and he doesn’t eat anything.

Not long after that, Anders disappears. Finn hears about it well after the fact, because he is still an apprentice and Anders passed his Harrowing some time ago and had since been moved to the mage dormitories upstairs. Rumors still fly about, because the man has reached the status of being a tower legend. Some people say that he’s finally escaped and is gone for good this time. This leads to another announcement, where Irving tells them all that Anders is “facing discipline for his errant behavior” and that “good mages don’t spread rumors.”

Finn doesn’t want to think about it, because thinking about it makes him feel uncomfortable, and he counts cobblestones on the floor instead.

VII. Harrowing

Finn learns what the Harrowing is the day he is assigned to it.

The Harrowing is going into the Fade to fight a demon.

And Finn has never been so terrified in his life.

When he learns exactly what he’s going to be doing, he backs away in disbelief and the templars prod him back to where he’s supposed to be standing. He’s keenly aware of the fact that many mages have not come back from this and that there was no real way to study for it. No, this test is based solely on luck and some sort of bullshit notion of mental fortitude.

He enters the Fade, finally, primarily because he is too shocked to do anything else and because the templars are glaring at him impassively. Their swords are out, and he realizes suddenly why exactly that is.

Not even his parents’ money could protect him from this.

The Fade is sickly green and there are spirits and demons everywhere. The spirits leave him alone, but the demons all sense that he is vulnerable and rush for him.

Finn has never actually fought anything before. He learned some offensive spells in class, of course, but for the most part he specialized in healing and growth. And yet here he is, pushed into a realm of demons to try to best them.

Fortunately, Finn is intelligent. He calls on spirits to aid him, which is exactly what he does as a spirit healer, and he throws a barrier over himself and counterattacks with carefully controlled torrents of magic and energy just like he’s practiced. Not that he ever thought there would be a practical application for these studies, but he’s grateful now.

He runs from the demons that he’s just killed, wisps on all sides of him, and ends up in a place that looks rather like his old home growing up (it’s not, of course, because there are the wrong number of windows on the first floor), and in the center, there, is a woman who looks suspiciously like his mother. She smiles at him. “Dearest Florian,” she says.

Finn takes a step backward.

“Don’t be afraid,” says the woman. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help you. I know what you want, Finn. And what you want is for things to go back to how they were. You can go home and your parents will be waiting for you. You won’t be a mage anymore. You’ll be normal like everyone else, and you can study and read to your heart’s content. You’re even old enough now to arrange the books in the library exactly how you’d like. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Finn summons a fireball in his palm.

“Now now,” says the woman. “Are you absolutely sure that isn’t what you want? Are you absolutely certain you don’t want what I can offer you? You won’t ever have to see your friends crying anymore. Won’t ever have to see the templars making your friends Tranquil ever again.” She lifts her head up, her chin tilted towards Finn as she looks down at him disdainfully. “Isn’t that what you want? To not let the templars win?”

Finn launches a stream of fire at his mother’s visage, and the resulting fight is manic and quick and there are spirits all around and a screaming demon in his face, and then the Fade melts away around him and he is lying on the ground, gasping, his face staring up at a templar’s, and there is a sword pointed at his chest.

The templar is caught off guard at Finn’s sudden return. “Maker have mercy,” he says, and he backs away.

First Enchanter Irving is standing over him then. “Finn? Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

Finn swallows and nods.

Irving helps him up. He congratulates him and gives him a ring signifying that he has passed a trial few do and is now a full fledged mage. He asks Finn if he needs to spend any time lying down, and Finn shakes his head and walks away in a daze. The words few do are stuck in his head.

The demon was right about one thing. The templars won anyway.

VIII. Disappearances

Being a mage means getting (slightly) better quarters and (slightly) better times in the library and a few more books to read. Finn enjoys it. Books and history distract him from his life, which he feels is increasingly surreal.

His parents send him a letter congratulating him on passing his Harrowing. “Dearest Florian, we never had any doubts in your ability,” it reads, his parents speaking as though they are talking about an essay test and not a life-and-death struggle against a demon. He can’t shake how absurd it is.

The Harrowing has changed him, though. He sees it in the eyes of the other mages: they have all been through that same, terrifying thing and although none of them dare speak of it, it’s silently acknowledged with respectful nods when they pass each other in the hallway. The apprentices have no idea what’s in store for them, and Finn finds himself with a bit of an attitude about it. They are youthful and innocent and obnoxious and loud in the library when he is trying to read, and he is a full-fledged mage and shouldn’t have to deal with them. It’s a bad attitude to have, and Finn knows it, but he feels he has to be something, because he has nothing else to be. Besides, caring about the apprentices means having to justify in his mind what he knows will happen to them later, and that is not something he can do.

The months go by, and Finn occupies himself. He still doesn’t have many friends. He’s too socially awkward and prefers to be alone, reading. He keeps tabs on what’s going on with the others, sort of. Anders comes back after his year long disappearance, although he is thinner and the expression on his face is the kind of one you would find on a feral tomcat, perhaps, ready to bite, and Finn keeps his distance and soon enough he disappears again.

Other people disappear, too. Jowan does. So does Solona Amell, not long after her Harrowing. Finn hears rumors that there was a Grey Warden in the tower. He wonders if the Grey Warden took the people who are disappearing. He hopes so, because the alternatives— that the templars might be making Harrowed mages Tranquil (which is against Chantry law), or that perhaps there is another, much more dangerous test than even the Harrowing in his future— are not alternatives that he particularly wants to think about.

It’s a few months after that when demons take over the tower.

It’s all because of a blood mage named Uldred. Some people die and others are possessed and Finn manages to hide in the basement, barricaded away from most of the mess, but the whole time he can’t help but think that the Chantry is right, mages truly are dangerous, and oh, he hates himself.

The Grey Wardens arrive, Amell among them. And, somehow, she stops Uldred. She’s hailed as a hero and some mages are asked to help fight against the darkspawn, because a Blight has been sweeping across Ferelden.

Finn is asked to go, and he declines. Going outside is scary, first of all, and secondly he doesn’t think his parents would approve.

Why he still cares about the opinions of his parents when he hasn’t seen them in close to two decades, he doesn’t know.

“Darkspawn,” he overhears a templar say, “Were caused by Tevinter mages. It’s only right that today’s mages go fight them to fix their blighted mess.”

So Finn feels cowardly for hiding away in the tower. But his robes won’t get dirty, at least, and he can study, and pretend that he doesn’t hate himself.

IX. Ariane

Amell returns the tower about a year later, after the Blight is over.

She brings a Dalish elf with her named Ariane.

Ariane is bold and fiery and strong-willed and she doesn’t hate Finn. Nor does she fear him for being a mage. Mages in Dalish clans, she tells him, are respected, because they are Keepers and Firsts.

He only knows what those are from his books, but that’s all he needs to know to know that they are important.

He helps Amell do some research. He thinks he probably makes a fool of himself, once or twice, because although he’ll never admit it, he’s trying to impress Ariane.

Amell asks him to travel with them to a dwarven thaig. He quails at the idea, at first, but then agrees. Partially it’s because of Ariane, but also partially it’s because he’s always wanted to study a dwarven thaig up close.

He doesn’t quite shake the idea that he’s going to be stopped at the front door until they’re suddenly through it and on their way. The Hero of Ferelden, it seems, gets what she wants.

Traveling is not exactly something Finn has ever done before. He has always been locked up— first at home, later at the Circle— and he’s always been fine with that, because inside it’s safe and clean and there are books to read.

But outside, it’s dirty. And frightening, sometimes, at night, when they are camping and and there are sounds all around them that Finn doesn’t recognize. He has trouble sleeping, at first, until Ariane picks up on his unease and informs him quite bluntly that she will kill anything that gets close to the campfire, and he looks at the way she’s holding her sword and believes her.

“You’ve never been outside the tower?” She asks him one night, after they’ve eaten.

“Not since I arrived as a kid. Well. There was that one sort of… ill-advised stint where we had activity time outside. That didn’t last very long. It wasn’t very much fun, either.” Finn smiles a bit at her. She is surprisingly easy to talk to.

She smiles back, but then her face grows hard. “And humans do this to all mages?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Finn is taken aback at the question. “I… don’t know,” he admits. “That’s just the way it’s done. Mages are…” he thinks back to Uldred and the demons. “Mages are dangerous, I suppose. And besides, it’s not that bad. There are books, and… more books.”

“Mages aren’t the only ones that are dangerous,” says Ariane. “I’m dangerous too.”

“I believe you,” says Finn truthfully.

“And not everyone likes books. Even if you like to be in a tower, not everyone does. It’s wrong to shut people up for who they are, before they have done anything bad. If my Keeper ever found out, he would think it was ridiculous. And do you know who else thinks it’s ridiculous?”

“Er… who?”

“Me.”

They reach Cadash Thaig and Finn doesn’t know if he’s ever been happier. Everywhere there are artifacts and bits and pieces of history to pour over and things to translate and more than once Finn stops the entire party because he’s so thoroughly desperate to marvel at some new find. This, he realizes suddenly, is what he should be doing. What good is it to accumulate so much knowledge and then let it sit in a tower? Why can mages not go out in small, sanctioned parties like this to put their knowledge to good use?

Ariane looks over at him every so often and smiles. Finn starts to wonder if he doesn’t hate himself, after all.

They finish helping Amell some time later, after Finn has been able to use his magic and his knowledge for so much good, and they say their goodbyes and then they part ways and Ariane and Finn begin their trek back to the tower. They are about halfway there when, one night, Ariane grabs a rather stunned Finn and kisses him.

He kisses her back.

They don’t go any farther than a kiss that night, but Finn is on clouds nonetheless. To think that someone could care about him— the stuffy, anxious scholar, the weird one, the mage— it’s almost too much for him to believe.

“You shouldn’t go back,” Ariane says the next morning as she puts the fire out.

“I… that would make me an apostate.” It’s a rather obvious statement, but Finn doesn’t know what else to say.

“So? Be an apostate. There are lots of apostates.”

“Well, I mean, the templars won’t exactly be happy about that.” Finn fidgets nervously as he points that out.

“I’ll kill them, if they come after you,” says Ariane.

That’s the second time she’s said that and the second time he believes her.

They don’t go back to the tower.

X. Found

At first, Finn is unsure about this strange, new direction that his life has taken him in. He is on the run, and it’s dirty, and sometimes cold, and sometimes hot, and there are most certainly no books to sort when he’s feeling anxious.

But Ariane’s smile and companionship is, he’s sure, worth more than every last sovereign in Ferelden, and he can’t quite express to himself how wonderful it is just to have her there. She believes in him. She trusts him. She sees something in him that he doesn’t know that he can see himself.

And never once does she judge him for being a mage, because as a Dalish elf, that concept is entirely foreign to her.

Ariane takes him to her clan, and they stay there for a few weeks. Finn learns about halla and about old Dalish tales and Keeper magic and he learns more elven history— real elven history— there in those few weeks than in all the years back at Kinloch Hold.

After that, they are content to travel together and traipse through old ruins and learn new things as they discover them, and for the first time in his life Finn feels like he’s living.

Then they are tracked down.

But not by templars, because his father’s money had prevented that.

His father’s money also hired mercenaries to him and bring him back to the Tower.

Finn doesn't know that when he and Ariane attack them, because true to her word, she is willing to murder anyone who gets close to the two of them. Within seconds the fight is over, and the mercenaries drop their weapons and fall to their knees. “Please, Ser Aldebrant,” says the leader, his hands shaking as he looks up at the Dalish elf with her sword held high and the mage who is no longer a boy, but a man, standing tall with a fireball in his hand. “We were sent by your parents. Let me explain, please.”

Ariane looks over at Finn and waits for him to give her the okay to stand down. He does, and she lowers her sword. Finn still has a fireball in his hand as he looks at the man on the ground. “Explain,” he says.

“Ser. Your parents learned about your expedition with the Hero of Ferelden. They also learned that you did not return to the tower afterward. They are worried for your safety.”

Ariane snorts. “He is much safer with me than he is anywhere else.”

“What she said,” says Finn.

“Ser. Please.” The mercenary is talking again. “I implore you to return to the Circle. It’s not safe out here for an apostate.”

And that may be so, Finn thinks, but he is never going back. Not to some place where he can’t study anything new and is stuck reading the same old books, over and over. Not to some place where he’s going to hate himself. Not to some place where his friends might disappear before he has a chance to say goodbye. Not to some place where he can’t bring Ariane.

“Go fuck yourself,” says Finn.

He and Ariane turn and leave.

XI. Home

Finn never does go back to the tower.

But he does go home a few months later.

The house is much the same as he remembered it. Eight trees outside the estate. Sixteen steps leading up to the doorway. Thirty-two windows on the first floor alone.

And there are elven servants, which Ariane is not pleased about and which embarrasses Finn. Still, he knocks on the front door and a hired hand leads the two of them into the Aldebrant estate, and for the first time in nearly twenty years Finn sees his parents.

They embrace him, and tell him how worried they’ve been for his safety, and plead with him to go back or to at least stay at home.

But Finn will have none of it. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I have to go.”

“But why?” asks his mother.

Ariane is nearby sampling a biscuit from a tray. “Why do humans want to lock people up so badly? How will you ever learn anything new? And can I have more of these?”

“I can’t do anything in the tower,” Finn explains to his parents. “Or here. What would you have me do? Rearrange books so you can just put them back? No. That’s not who I am anymore. I’ve learned who I am, and who I am is someone who has a talent. I can learn things, and I can read things in different languages, and I can recover history. And that’s important, and I’m not going to let that talent be locked up anymore.”

Ariane has another biscuit in her hand, but she walks up to Finn and stands next to him proudly. Finn smiles at her.

They stay for dinner, and Ariane happily samples every bit of food in the pantry and slips a jar of pickles into her pack. Then it’s time to leave. His parents ask if he needs anything— “a new robe, perhaps?” his mother asks. “That one you’ve got on is looking rather… poor.”

Finn shrugs. “I’m going to trade it in for something else eventually,” he says. “I’m thinking something leather.”

Ariane puts another jar of pickles into her pack.

XII. Rebels

It’s rough to be a traveling scholar, and it’s rougher still when the mage rebellion breaks out some years later and all of Thedas, it seems, goes up in revolt. But Ferelden is a safe haven for now, and Finn and Ariane spend their days examining Avvar ruins or healing people in need of help or returning elven artifacts to Dalish clans.

Finn feels alive.

They run into two particular people, one day, in disguise. The initial encounter is tense and Ariane draws her sword but the other two people are mages, and the taller one throws back his hood, suddenly. He has blond hair and looks vaguely familiar. “Finn?” he says.

“…Anders?” Finn asks.

He has heard rumors from up north, of course. That an apostate named “Anders” tore down a Chantry building and then disappeared with the Champion of Kirkwall, of all people. He had always assumed that the “Anders” spoken of in these rumors was indeed the same Anders from Kinloch Hold, because why wouldn’t it be?

And he was right, of course. Here was the same Anders he knew from the tower, and with him is a woman with fire in her eyes, who nods respectfully at Ariane, who nods back, as though they are sharing some secret that he doesn’t know about.

“What are you doing out here?” Anders asks. “Are you an apostate?”

“Yes,” says Finn. “I have been for a while, actually. The tower was… how shall I put it… boring as fuck.”

Anders laughs with him.

They make a fire that night and share news and stories. Anders talks of his time with Amell and how he ended up in Kirkwall, possessed by a spirit named Justice— (“Justice says he likes you, by the way.” “He… talks to you?” “Not really, no. I feel his thoughts like I feel my own. But it’s easier to say he ‘says’ something. Less explaining to do.”) — and he talks of the rebellion and why he did what he did. Finn shakes his head and stares into the fire as Anders describes every cruel injustice done in the Gallows. Harrowed mages made Tranquil, for the slightest offenses? Mages rounded into closet-sized cells and watched day and night? A part of him thinks Kinloch Hold would never have gone this far— but another part of him knows that all it would really take is one bad Knight-Commander to tip the balance.

And besides, cells or no cells, he was still locked up. He still thought he was evil. He still hated himself.

He still had a friend made Tranquil.

“I… could use your help, perhaps,” Anders admits. “I could use a good historian and linguist to help me when the need arises.”

“Oh?” Finn lights up at that.

“I’ve been chasing rumors that Tranquility can be reversed. As such, I’ve acquired several ancient Tevinter scrolls that contain what I think might be useful information on that subject. Unfortunately, I can’t read Tevene.”

Finn smiles. “You, my friend, are in luck. Ancient Tevene is my specialty.”

Anders smiles back. “I thought you were the one who was into that. Anyways, I don’t have the scrolls with me right now. They're valuable, and I didn’t want to carry them with me everywhere, in case we get caught. But I’ll tell you how to contact me, if you’d like to help.”

“Of course.”

They all stay in the same camp that night. Finn wakes up at one point, needing to relieve himself, and he sees Hawke and Anders, asleep by the fire. Hawke is fiercely clutching Anders to her heart; she is the smaller of the two of them and yet somehow she is the greater force between them. Anders’ head is tucked safely underneath her chin, and she has one arm wrapped around him tightly and her other hand up on his head, gripping his hair, her fingers intertwined with golden strands. Her nose is buried deep in that hair, as well, and Finn suddenly has the impression of not two individual people, but of one great bird of prey, its head tucked under its wing.

He heads off into the woods to do his business, and when he returns, Hawke is awake. She’s lifted her head slightly, her mouth obscured by Anders’ hair, and she looks at Finn with eyes that glint in the firelight. He realizes that it’s not that she doesn’t trust him in specific, it’s that she can’t afford to trust the world, because Anders is her soul and the world has hurt him enough already. He can hardly blame her.

Finn returns to his sleeping roll, and it’s not until then that Hawke tucks her head back underneath Anders’ wing and falls asleep again.

Ariane rolls over and grabs him and pulls him close, and Finn suddenly understands the secret look she had exchanged with Hawke earlier.

He hears a cricket chirp, somewhere in the distance.

Twelve times.

It'll do.

He falls asleep.