Chapter Text
"What was it like? Growing up in the Circle, I mean." Alistair piped up as they walked, the groans of their Dwarven charges' wagon and the clop of hooves a now-familiar background noise.
Aria looked up and to the side where the man was looking towards the lake. In the distance, one could just make out the outline of the towering structure. It was almost surreal, seeing the structure from this distance. From where she walked the fog covered monstrosity of the tower looked so insignificant. Lifting a hand and pinching her pointer and thumb together before spreading them again, she squinted her eyes to see the shadow of the structure trapped between two thin digits.
Aria wondered if this strange mixture of dread would ever go away the longer she stared at the place she grew up.
Focusing back on the question her friend had given her, the elf hummed.
"What do you want me to say? The Templars were, for the most part, unkind or indifferent, I never made any lasting connections with the other mages. I was unhappy. Everyone is unhappy, save for the Loyalist." she tried to brush off.
"I know you told me that your separation from your parents was painful...But surely you had some good times, some happiness." Alistair pressed, a concerned expression crossed his features. By then Leliana looked their way with curiosity, as did Bodahn. Sten seemed content to take up guarding their rear, though his gruff face would not betray if he was listening in, and just as curious for the Warden to talk about herself. Morrigan hitched a ride in the back of the dwarves' wagon as she took the time to crush some dried herbs to boil into a paste at a later time.
Aria turned to face the front of the trail again.
"The Circle does not inspire us to create friendships amongst each other. Friendships could lead to romantic feelings. Romance could lead to...well, you know-"
"Love-making?" Leliana offered.
"Babies," Aria replied with a nod.
"We are told to strictly focus on our studies, to learn to control ourselves, our urges, our nature. There is a lot of religious drivel. We are either demonized or pitied by the Chantry sisters that are stationed at the tower. Frankly, it gets boring very quickly." Aria sighed.
"I read a lot. About the only thing I could do since apprentices are not allowed outside. I had a teacher that I studied under, and Jowan, but that was about it for companionship."
"When I was in Val Royeaux I once infiltrated the White Spire. It was gorgeous, with its alabaster walls. And at night it glowed. The inside looked just like a palace and the mages' robes were all beautifully crafted." the red-haired bard gushed.
"I have never needed to be anything other than a lay sister since my arrival in Ferelden. What does the one you grew up in look like?"
By now the road was flanked on one end by a sprawling aqueduct. The shrubbery was greener here, with fewer dead trees. Pine trees clumped together into little woodsy areas; cattails and reeds framed the edge of the water. Aria recalled in her mind that eventually the aqueduct would lower into the ground and burrow under a hill they must crest before a cobbled road will lead them down to the shores that would ferry her group to Kinloch Hold.
Aria could already see the ruinous bridge that cuts through the lake that used to be the main entrance to the fortress once upon a time before her own.
"I've never really thought about it. What the tower looks like, I mean." The elf started.
"I don't remember getting a good look at it when I first arrived as a little girl, and I refused to look back as Duncan and I were ferried across the lake. I never thought I would return, to be honest. If I didn't die doing whatever he thought I was able to do for the Wardens then I would have done everything in my power to take advantage of being outside of it."
"Inside, however, it is stone. The floors are covered in thick rugs, and there are decorative statues of Andraste that stand on either side of the doors. There are other stone carvings, notable people in history. The library has shelves reaching almost to the ceiling with ladders to climb up to the unreachable heights. Fires are going almost constantly during winter before the senior enchanters put upwards to trap the heat, but it's still so cold that nobody wants to leave the dorms for our studies."
"It's perhaps the only time I communicated with the others. It's hard to make connections with others if someone isn't trying to get ahead in a fraternity, it is trying to be the first to complete your studies as an apprentice so you can take your Harrowing and become a full mage. Doing so grants a little more freedom, but not much. But I only recently was granted the title of Mage so I never really got the chance to see what it felt like."
Aria shook her head in a self-deprecating manner.
"The windows are too high up to look through, and the ones that aren't are warded heavily to prevent as many suicide attempts as possible…" There was perhaps only one suicide in the time she had spent at the Tower. A newly ranked Enchanter had learned the spells that protected the windows. They were part of the task force whose job it was to keep the wards up.
From the rumor mill, the group of Senior Enchanters had only been made once Irving had risen to First-Enchanter after a particularly harsh time that led to a high number of mages and apprentices jumping to their deaths. It was long before her time though.
Lost in her thoughts, Aria barely registered a lack of footsteps behind her. Pausing, she turned around to see a few people, in particular, looking moderately green. Leliana held a hand to her mouth in stunned silence as Alistair looked like he wanted to say something.
"S-Suicide? But why would they do such a thing?" the bard murmured.
Why indeed. Aria didn't bother answering her question with words but certainly gave her a look.
The subject changed rather quickly after that.
"I think that first night as Duncan and I set up camp I made a list of all the things I would do if I got the chance."
"Well, what had you wanted to do lass?" Bodahn pressed enthusiastically.
"I guess a walk around town, dress in pants-my legs were always cold in those mages robes you know." Aria sighed. It felt like that moment was so long ago.
"But, most importantly, I wanted to go back to Highever."
"Why Highever?" Alistair questioned.
"Mir'Vhenas. It is where I am from."
It was nightfall by the time they made it to the pier. Cloudless as it was the sky was freckled with stars and enough of the moon was out to light their path with the assistance of a torch. Near enough, the same inn she remembered from when she left was lit up as well, yet the stable was empty.
Not a surprise, while there used to be a small market here at the harbor, it was a thing of the past. Nobody came to Kinloch Hold anymore unless they were transferred there or in need of knowledge.
It was agreed that Bodahn and his son would set up shop at the inn for now. There was no need for them to join the ferry ride to the island tower, or to get involved in an uproar that could break out due to her arrival.
However, there seemed to be an entirely new issue that had the tired elf scowling just as effortlessly as their Qunari shadow. Said shadow might have just groaned a curse in his language under his breath as a young-looking templar noticed their eventual approach and glued a self-important, petulant look on his face.
The wooden boards of the pier creaked beneath their feet as the party strode to the end where the Templar stood, back straight and at attention. He then raised a hand just as Aria opened her mouth to ask for passage.
A sharp pain stabbed at her. It was familiar, the feeling of being shut down early but had not experienced it in a long enough time it was only slightly jarring to be reminded of the usual treatment she received.
"Sorry, but the Tower is closed to visitors for the foreseeable future," he informed.
That caught the mage off guard.
"Closed off? But the Tower has never downright refused visitors." She furrowed her brow up at the man.
"What could be going on that people are barred access? Did someone lose an apprentice?" Their blonde warrior made a face. Aria winced...technically, yes.
But that was going on a month or more ago, around the same time Duncan carted her off. This couldn't be because of the hunt for Jowan.
"What, no!" The Templar huffed in offense at Alistair's jab. "It's just no one is allowed; the Tower is off-limits to all!"
Aria's annoyed scowl returned. A shift behind her had her turning to eye Morrigan then. The witch's eyes bored into her expectantly.
The elf took in a breath. She straightened back up and stuffed her hand into her bag to pull out the rolled-up treaties, the Warden's symbol in clear sight at the end of one of the papers. Holding out the papers so the coat-of-arms is in clear view of the man Aria put on what she hoped is a convincing tone of someone in actual command of a witch, foreign bard, snarky wannabe Templar, Qunari convict, and a possibly rabid mabari.
"I am a Grey Warden acting upon these treaties that give me the right to demand aid from the Circle of Magi. Closed off or not, you will be taking us across this lake." she surmised to the startled Templar.
"Oh, so you're a Grey Warden now are you? Prove it, kill some darkspawn for me." He challenged as he crossed his arms. Aria refused to waver now, even as her hands began to sweat. She breathed in through her nose as she felt the expectant eyes of her people behind her.
"Do you see any darkspawn in our general vicinity?" she sassed, placing her hands on her hips for good measure. It was a plus that it hid any shaking from nerves as she did everything her head was telling her not to do.
"No?" she tilted her head up a little higher to make eye contact with the taller man. "Now, are you sure you want to give your superior issues by not allowing my passage to the Tower?" She challenged back.
The Templar paled.
"You think Greagoir would be upset with me for not letting you in? Oh w-wait...actually, he would. Good point."
Aria slowly exhaled but kept up the facade of confidence.
"We should do our best to avoid an angry Greagoir, shouldn't we?" she smiled up at the man who could only slump in defeat.
Transporting the group took two trips in total.
Aria on the first flanked by Alistair and Sten. Sitting there in the longboat, as the men rowed across the lake to the desolate-looking island in the middle of Ferelden's largest lake, she was able to take in the tower for the first time. The mage watched the Tower come into view in the faint light of the moon and stars, its highest main tower .a reminder of what lay at the very top, surrounded by smaller spires. The Circle of Magi's insignia could just barely be identified in the massive tapestry hung on the main tower, through the distant glow of magically burning fire trapped in lanterns helped.
Objectively, Kinloch Hold is a beautiful fortress. However, the painted white stone and masterfully crafted stained glass windows could not ease the sickness of anxiety churning in her stomach. The once-great stone road that had once quite literally bridged the island to the mainland was in ruins; the ferrymen passed large segments that still held themselves above water with moss and algae overrunning the aged and crumbling ruins. The closer and closer the boat got, the more she had to crane her neck to take in the silhouette the flying buttresses helped give the gothic structure that had been a part of her for nearly all her life.
And then they reached the pier and were greeted by no other guards. Sucking in a concerned breath, the elf stood without much prompting and climbed out onto the pier.
"Something's not right." she breathed.
Because of course, it wasn't. It was never that simple she was learning. There was a feeling about the magic that surrounded the Tower. A slimy, dirty, absolutely foul feeling joined her anxiety and she almost feared what was causing the total isolation of the outside world for the Tower and what could have caused it.
Sten, who stayed behind on the island with her while Alistair made another trip to retrieve the other women and Uthnehn, looked up at the structure that loomed over them.
"This is where your mages are imprisoned?" he questioned.
"One of them, at least. There is also a Circle in Jainen, an island located north in the Waking Sea, there also used to be one that was in Denerim, but it was destroyed in the Towers Age," she informed.
"This is...more opulent than anything offered to the Saarebas in Seheron or Par Vollen."
Aria hummed, tilting her head in thought.
"I...I suppose so, considering there are much poorer people out there, with no roof over their heads. We are well educated but are hardly permitted to put our knowledge into practice except for selling enchanted wares. How are the Qunari mages treated?"
Sten looked down at her, his lips thinned before he decided what he would say.
"They are pitied. They did not choose to be a danger to themselves and others, and steps are taken to show they are to be handled strictly. Horns are sawed off, and they are chained and controlled strictly by their handlers, the Arvaarad. Should they be caught practicing magic outside when they are not to be used they are punished, tongues cut so they may not corrupt others with honeyed words and mouths sewn shut."
The elf gave the man a wide-eyed look, her jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. Had she been a far more outspoken girl, she would have shrieked about the inhumanity of it. But Aria was a quiet elf and an easily nervous one. So, she took in a long, calming breath to try and rid herself of her nerves.
"If a mage from the circle disobeys or is caught practicing blood magic they are either killed immediately for fear of corruption or turned Tranquil."
"Tranquil? I have not heard that term before, explain." Sten demanded.
"It is where a mages connection to the Fade is severed and they are no longer able to use magic at all. They become unable to emote and are easily controlled by the Templars, perhaps as well as how your..Arvaarad," She stumbled over the foreign pronunciation and looked to Sten with furrowed brows to see if she said it right. There was no discourse in his expression though so she assumed how she said it was acceptable. "Controls your own."
Sten seemed displeased at something.
"If they have problems with discipline, but are still useful why take it away? Your Templars need to exert better control over mages, you should be treated as the danger you are. If that means chaining you down, then it should be done, but to cut you off from what makes use of you is like cutting the hand of a member of the Antaam."
Pursing her lips at such extremes, the elf had to take a moment to gather her wits as she figured how to respond. The silence was not uncomfortable and in fact, Sten seemed intent on waiting for her response.
"Do…" she furrowed her brow. "Do you wish me bound as well Sten? You know what I am and you have seen me cast magic. Though there is one branch I practice that I have held back as it tends to make others...uncomfortable. Would you prefer Alistair to lead me by a leash like an animal?"
To his credit, the pale-skinned man seemed honestly surprised by her. His hard eyes bore into her own and for once Aria did not cower and look away as the warrior seemed to study her with a new light. Eventually, as the sound of their other party members unboarded the boat and began to join them, he spoke with a measured tone.
"You are remarkably in control of yourself despite how weak-willed you carry yourself. I believe, despite leaving what is equivalent to a Qunari Karataam you have withheld the call of demons admirably. Whether that holds for more of this lands mages and not just you has yet to be seen."
"Wow...I think that's the nicest thing I've ever heard someone say to me." Aria breathed in wonderment.
"However, to know you are holding back is an insult to our enemies. I would see to it that whatever it is you have knowledge of, to use it. It is wasteful of what you are if you do not use all the tools available to you."
"Aaand there it is." She huffed back.
To get to the main door Aria led the group up a short incline of the land to set foot under a short, roofed colonnade. The ground under their feet was paved in the same stone that seemed to make up the fortress; the door they stood before was a large, hardwood inlaid with the same iron that was molded to the sides. Aria made a point to get her nerves in control upon accepting she was back here and about to be surrounded by the unfeeling grey stone of the inside again. Stepping forward to place a hand on the textured surface of the aged wood, preserved to stay strong and unyielding through magic, and undeterred by however heavy it should be in comparison of its size and girth to hers, she pushed it open.
The door groaned deeply as it turned into the tower and revealed the monotone lobby. Thick, stone grey columns lined either side of the wide hall with a raised floor in the space behind the columns that meet the walls. A worn, faded purple rug with a yellow border trailed down the floor from one side to another. Magically sustained fire burned and flickered in the sconces that lined the walls.
The minimalist first chamber of the Circle Tower was as unwelcoming as she remembered and was nothing new. What was, however, new and more disconcerting than she would like to admit were the Templars in full armor running up and down the long lobby assisting the collapsed forms taking up quickly built cots or blankets set on the hard floor of injured mages and other members of the Templar Order that guarded Kinloch Hold.
Any Templars not already treating the wounds of their brothers and sisters in arms were assisting a minuscule number of mages treating the worse off with healing magic alight in their hands.
There were others still, slumped in exhaustion or defeat. There were faint sobs swallowed up by the entire cacophony of clanking armor and barked orders in a voice Aria was very familiar with.
"Maker," Leliana breathed, caught just as unprepared as the mage was. "What has happened here?"
"I-I have no idea." Aria looked on in dread so distinct, she felt her body go cold and a lump form in her throat. This was not what she was expecting to be greeted with. It looked as if the Tower had become a war zone. People were bleeding, mages were tearing off the ends of their robes to act as makeshift bandages and Templars were holding lyrium potions to the lips of mages who knew some kind of healing spell and holding them up before magic exhaustion could cause their legs to buckle.
Horrifically, in a corner closest to them, there was a small row of bodies that lay unattended and inanimate. Aria bit her lip to hide a strained whimper as she realized that was a row of dead bodies.
Gods, what has been going on?
Sucking in a breath and not bothering to check if her companions followed her, Aria stormed to the voice of the Knight-Commander. Trying to hide her mounting panic, she roughly swiped her sleeve across her eyes to rip away tears that threatened to fall.
From behind her, she caught Alistair mentioning the door leading to the main room of the ground floor to be barricaded.
Knight-Commander Greagoir sent off another Templar on some task as Aria found his attention. His haggard expression morphed into disbelief at the sight of her, possibly thinking he'd never see her again after what nearly lead to her execution.
"Knight-Commander, what-what is going on?" Her voice wavered, attention unable to focus on just him as her head swiveled this way and that as she witnessed something similar to the refugees she had seen in Lothering.
The aged man shook himself out of his stupor. Pinching the bridge of his nose before eyeing her appearance and those that followed closely behind her.
"Well, look who's back. A proper Grey Warden are we now, girl? Glad to see you didn't die at Ostagar." he nodded to her gruffly. Aria blinked, not expecting the greeting.
"Truly? You're glad I'm alive? After the trouble, I caused due to Jowan's lies?" She murmured, conflict clear on her pale face.
"Perhaps. Now we're dealing with a problem that doesn't involve you, Grey Warden." Greagoir sighed.
Somewhere from behind her Leliana was muttering to Alistair, "exactly what did she do before she left?". Aria paid no mind to him talking of her personal life to the others.
Aria looked as if she was trying to swallow a rock.
"Greagoir...I came here with a request, but that can wait. Despite how I feel about my life here, this was still my home. Please," she breathed. "Tell me what happened."
Greagoir appeared grim.
"We were not vigilant enough. Jowan had escaped our notice long enough, however, we didn't realize how widespread those tampering with blood magic had become. And don't think we forgot your role in his escape." he started. "Speaking plainly, the Tower is no longer under our control. Abominations and demons stalk the halls."
For just a second Aria recalled back to her very first encounter with a demon out to possess her. Mouse, the hulking demon that was the last thing she saw before getting booted out of the Fade. The image of the purple-grey skinned monster with fangs that jutted out from its lower lip and horns thicker than her arm was forefront in her mind. The Rage demons and shades they had fought at Redcliffe.
But abominations. She's never seen an abomination.
She'd never seen a mage giving into the control of a monster; twisting and contorting until they were no longer human. They very reason they were here in the first place was to prevent that very thing from happening to a possessed child.
How do you kill something that use to be a person?
Aria swallowed the bile that threatened to bubble up and took a moment to breath so she could speak again. The panic, however, clawed at her endlessly.
She chose to focus on what else the Knight-Commander said.
"I blame myself more than you'd think of letting Jowan getaway after learning what he's been up to when my back was turned. But he is currently indisposed of right now. But that is of little consequence compared to the situation right now."
"True enough." He sighed roughly. "We don't even know when this had started and how many were practicing it before this disaster got out of hand."
"And the First-Enchanter?" Aria glanced around in worry. "Where is he?" her voice was starting to sound reedy and thin as the full picture was starting to form in her head of the situation.
Was she still breathing?
"We don't know." He professed.
"It happened so suddenly, mages being overtaken and demons bubbling up from the floor, or from the fires burning in the fireplaces, some tearing through directly into our world from portals. They attacked indiscriminately, I ordered my Templars to retreat, they grabbed any mage that was within arms reach."
"W-What's going to happen now? Can-Can we help?" she stuttered in disbelief.
"I've sent word to Denerim, calling for reinforcements and the Rite of Annulment."
That lump in her throat choked her as she stared, glossy-eyed and unseeing at the Knight-Commander as his declaration processed in her mind. And certainly, now, her breath left her and she felt her lungs constricting as the panic rose forth at what that would mean for any surviving mages trapped behind that door, yards away and guarded by the least wounded Templars taking refuge in the glorified hallway.
"You can-" She strained as she forced her voice out even though it was getting harder and harder to focus as the thought of the total massacre that could take place if she didn't do something. God, she had to do something, no one would otherwise right? "You can't just…"
A hand landed heavily on her shoulder, she flinched as if struck and directed her unfocused gaze to Alistair's brown one. He looked pained, pity in his gaze as he looked down at her and spoke softly.
"Any uncorrupted mages are more than likely already dead. Any abominations left inside need to be dealt with."
A feeling as if Alistair had run his sword through her brought tears to her frantic eyes and she slapped his gloved hand away, she stepped away from him as if he were an enemy. Because fuck you, there are still innocent lives in that tower and they need to be saved before they were sent to an unjust death.
Alistair flinched back, appalled, the rest looked just as shaken at her behavior and it was at this time she vaguely registered she must have cursed at him out loud. But so what? Alistair wasn't the one who took history or philosophy with someone here since they were five years of age. She might not have made lasting connections with anyone here beyond Jowan and her mentor, but these were her people. There were the mean ones, the religious one, but there were also the ones who were just trying to make the best out of a bad lot in life.
She turned to Greagoir.
"There has to be another way!"
"If there was, do you not think we would have chosen it? The situation is dire-there is no alternative!" he raised his voice, but it sounded muffled and distanced to her typically keen elven ears.
"When did you send word to Denerim?" She demanded.
"A while ago, the civil war has no doubt caused some delay. We can only guess if the Chantry has been pulled into it."
"There's still questions unanswered, and you can't just condemn any survivors to death like that!" Aria argued. She could feel the tense gazes of those that followed her. She must seem so off to them. It was so unlike her for sure, but the situation rubbed her wrong. Feelings bubbled cold and fierce under her skin and she felt energy roil and shift in her growing frantic state. Around her it seemed the others were finding the air heavier, standing upright was becoming a chore and she knew in the back of her mind she was exerting a strengthening amount of force magic around the vicinity, the gravity grew heavy but she cared little at the sweat that broke out against Leliana's brow, or Stens subtle discomfort.
Her mabari whimpered as he pressed against her side in attempts to relieve her of her stress. But she refused to calm, refused to hear Alistair's nervous pleads for her to calm down. Morrigan seemed the only one to keep her wits about her and see how things played out and what her final decision would be.
"It is the innocent folk of Ferelden who matter. I would lay down my life, and the life of any mage to keep them safe! No abomin-"
"We're under your protection too, we matter!" Aria shrieked, cutting the man off with a furious, burning glare in her honey brown eyes.
"Mages are under your care, your protection. They are as much an innocent citizen of Ferelden as any farmer or family outside this stupid tower. Living with us for all this time, do you see us as nothing but cattle, animals you must herd, Knight-Commander?" she seethed.
"Perhaps if you saw the humanity in us then you would be more inclined to face the horde behind those doors and pull out the children who are hiding under their beds or in the cupboards to escape the monsters they are told they can become if they don't master their magic. Or the Tranquil that are defenseless to any attack aimed at them, or the enchanters that cast spells on your swords that strike us down should we fail the Harrowing."
All around them the silence after her harsh words was deafening. Greagoir had no words left to give apparently, his face stony and grave. Her companions seemed to have no grasp of the situation.
Aria took a sudden and shaky breath. It was long and she nearly choked on it as the cold fire burning her up inside and blinding panic began to ebb away. A heavyweight settled on her shoulders, she accepted it willingly. Looking around her, the surviving mages looked on in hopeless silence. Some appeared to look at her in ways she could not define, but the weight it added she accepted just as much.
When Greagoir spoke it was strained, his expression struggled to stay neutral.
"Every last abomination and demon must be exterminated, every floor must be combed through until whatever, or whoever the catalyst was is dealt with. Can you handle that?"
Aria straightened up, eyed the Knight-Commander, then gave her companions a fierce look, daring them to try to convince her it was a pointless task.
Alistair smartly kept his mouth shut.
"I must try." she breathed, turning back to Greagoir with a nod. "It is the right thing to do."