Chapter Text
She was exhausted—so very exhausted—but then again, she couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t. Her muscles always ached, and every task seemed to take more effort than it should. He had woken her early again, of course—her watcher, Ser Reid. The incessant pounding on her door had torn her from the fade, and the echo of his fist against the oak still rang in her ears. He had informed her that it was time to rise and tend to the children, forcing her out of slumber. At least he had been mannerly enough to knock and afford her some privacy while she dressed.
Ser Reid at least, was a vast improvement compared to her previous guardian, Knight Captain Porter. Nothing could ever be worse than Porter.
No, Ser Reid was one of the kinder ones. Originally from Starkhaven, he was an older man with wispy white hair, kind hazel eyes, and a clean-shaven face, as was befitting a Templar. Despite his association with such a corrupt and vile order, there was an odd sense of strength and comfort about him. She knew he turned a blind eye to the behaviors of his brothers most of the time, but he had never been cruel or malicious to her. For that, she supposed, she should be thankful.
Now, as she watched the children running around the tower nursery, squealing and giggling, Odette wondered what kind of Templars they might become. Would their current kind nature prevail? Or would the order beat it out of them as it had so many before them?
A shrill scream pulled her from her thoughts. Turning her head, she saw the culprit: Amalia, one of the older children, was being chased by Noah, who had just caught her. Both children had recently turned thirteen and were scheduled to be sent to Therinfal Redoubt in a few weeks to begin their formal training. Odette couldn’t help but smile as they laughed, encouraging the other children to join their game.
Amalia was intelligent—perhaps too intelligent. In another life, Odette was certain the girl would have been a scholar, destined for some of the greatest academic breakthroughs that Thedas would have ever seen. Noah, on the other hand, was born to be a soldier. In the past few weeks, he had grown so much that he was almost as tall as Odette—a feat, though not overly impressive, was still notable. The young boy had lost the roundness in his face and had grown broad. He had even taken it upon himself to engage in more physical training, quickly building muscle and becoming a man before their eyes.
Ser Reid had noticed too, spending most of the day with Odette in the nursery. The old Templar had taken an interest in Noah, and when Mother Superior wasn’t around, he would show him some sword and combat techniques using makeshift weapons. They would achieve great things, those two—though it was a pity it would be within the Templar Order.
Odette sighed wearily, glancing around at the other children playing. They were happy, content, full of giddy excitement, and enjoying their games. Odette tried to stifle her yawn. It was so early—the sun had barely risen—and yet here the children were, full of joy and mischief. Where did these little monsters get their energy from? Still, as tired as she was, she wouldn’t change being here, being with them. Being the only mage allowed to spend her days helping the lay sisters in the nursery was a privilege—one that only served to fuel the disgust and hatred her fellow mages of the Ostwick Circle openly displayed toward her. It was another perk of her family’s noble heritage and sway, they no doubt believed. If only they knew the truth—knew the price she had paid to be permitted such a luxury. If only they knew what she had done, what she had sacrificed. If only they knew the truth of the lie she had to keep telling, even now, so that she could remain a prisoner within these cold stone walls. Still, she wouldn’t change those circumstances either—not when it meant she still had him. Some sacrifices were worth it in the end.
She had heard the whispers, of course—the talk among her fellow mages who knew only half-truths, who believed the story that the real villains had spun. Who did she think she was, they hissed when they thought no one could hear? The spoiled noble. Her father was Lord Trevelyan, they said. ‘How much did he pay’ to keep her in the comfort they would never know, comfort they would never be afforded because they were mages born to simple homes, to servants and farmers. If only they knew the truth, she thought bitterly. They thought her a snobbish noble. She did not have to share the dormitories; she dined alone and had a personal Templar present night and day. It must have looked idyllic, and for that, they hated her. Odette Trevelyan was not welcome here. She didn’t belong, they often jeered. She was nothing more than a perfect princess who knew nothing of hardship—she wasn’t one of them. Her fellow mages wanted nothing to do with her, even less so than the clerics and Templars in the Circle did.
The isolation no longer fazed Odette, however, for she had come to understand the truth long ago. She didn’t belong here or anywhere else. She meant nothing to anyone, and she never would—not even to him, eventually, no matter how hard she loved him. Odette would lose him too, just as she had lost everyone else she had ever truly cared for. She would never have a place in this world. The Circle did not want her, and her family certainly did not either. Her father had been right all those years ago—the girl was, quite simply, in his words: a mistake, a disappointment. Rotten to the core and unworthy.
Suddenly, a mass of blonde curls that she so adored caught her attention. There was nothing she looked forward to more each morning than running her hands through those curls, watching this sweet child’s little face light up when he saw her, filling her heart with joy. This little miracle thought the world of her—she knew that, for now at least. And if he thought she was worthy of something, then just maybe she could be. Just maybe she could endure a little longer.
Odette couldn’t hide her smile as she watched her little friend become distracted on his way to her, stopping to admire a colorful painting one of the other children was just finishing. How could one little person make the world such a better place by simply existing? At only four years old, this child was capable of making even the worst of times seem magical.
Declan was the youngest of the children. Odette counted her blessings that she had gotten the opportunity to watch him grow, just as she had with the rest of the children here. Declan was kind, intelligent, and sweet. Unlike the other children, he was not yet destined to be a Templar. There was still some hope of him leading a normal, happy life, but his parentage was in question, meaning they would have to wait and see what happened before a decision was made regarding his future.
Odette crouched down as Declan finally came to a stop in front of her, a small but clearly new wooden figurine in his hands. She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face, her heart lighting up when he returned it with a bright smile of his own. At least someone was happy here.
“Do you like it?” he asked eagerly, awaiting her approval.
“Ser Reid carved it for me,” he explained, presenting his latest toy to her as she inspected it. A wooden figurine of a Templar... Great, she thought, as if she didn’t already see enough of those every day. Now the children were torturing her with them too.
“I love it, Declan. Ser Reid was very kind to make this for you. I didn’t know he possessed such talents,” she feigned excitement, noticing Declan’s demeanor shifting.
He seemed uneasy as he whispered, “What’s going on, Deety? Sister Pia says we must behave today and not upset the Templars.”
Odette tried to show no emotion as she looked around, now just as concerned. Ser Reid stood in the corner, observing with a blank stare as he always did. His nonchalance was almost enough to make her believe that nothing had happened. The Chantry sisters, though—they were nervous, and obviously so. No one knew what would happen next to their ‘quiet’ Circle or what the repercussions of what had transpired—and continued to transpire—in the Free Marches would be for them.
There had been news of the explosion in Kirkwall, of course—a mage uprising just as the city was recovering from a Qunari invasion, of all things. And now they had heard that the infamous Kirkwall Circle was practically empty. This was information she likely would not have normally been privy to, but Knight Captain Porter had been the one to break the news to her. He had no doubt delighted in the moment when he had finally caught her alone in the halls and unawares. He had sneered as he told her that ‘following the events of Kirkwall, the Templars here had been given orders to kill apostates outside of the Circle and any mages behaving badly inside the Circle on sight. If they were unsure of any of their charges, well, the Chantry and the Order weren’t opposed to bringing them to order with the brand.’ He had delighted in telling her that he was good friends with Knight Captain Rutherford, with whom he had been stationed in Kinloch before the filthy mages ruined things there. And he knew Knight Commander Meredith Stannard, of course. Both of these senior members of the Kirkwall Circle had been pushing for the right of annulment to be carried out en mass to all mages, regardless of their backgrounds and behaviour.
Odette's worst fear had always lingered in the back of her mind, especially under Porter’s command. Though she had always known it was a possibility, no apostates had been killed as far as she knew. None of her fellow mages in Ostwick had been severely punished or made Tranquil—at least, not since the explosion.
Porter, however, often enjoyed threatening her with such possibilities, especially with the gallows.
“If you think I’m bad,” he had grunted in her ear one night, “just wait until I send you to Knight-Captain Cullen. He’ll teach you some manners.”
Odette shivered at the memory, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She had heard from Sister Pia that other Circles in the Free Marches were starting to follow the example of the Kirkwall mages. Some were rebelling; others were disbanding and reveling in their newfound freedom. But Ostwick? Ostwick was known as a submissive Circle. The mages here were exceptionally well-behaved, while the Templars, on the other hand, were anything but. The brutes were merely “doing their duty,” keeping the mages in line—if their stories were to be believed.
Odette smiled at Declan once more determined to change the subject. He was no fool; he would eventually read her reaction, and she didn’t want to frighten him.
“What is this handsome soldier’s name?” she asked warmly, her heart sinking as she watched Declan’s face shift from joy to annoyance—she had said the wrong thing, again.
“He’s not just a soldier, Deety. He’s a strong Templar. He’s going to protect us… and I don’t know his name. He hasn’t chosen one yet,” Declan sighed, a hint of sadness in his voice.
Odette reached out to comfort the boy, freezing only when he whispered,
“He’s just like me, Deety. His mama didn’t name him before she sent him here” he sniffed as tears welled up in his beautiful brown eyes, threatening to fall.
Odette’s stomach lurched as a lump formed in her throat. Was that really what he believed? What all these sweet, innocent children believed about their parents? It might have been true for a few of the noble children here, she supposed—their parents had their heir and their spare. But Declan?
Odette knew better when it came to Declan. In fact, she knew more about most of these children, thanks to what Sister Pia had confided to her. Amalia, for example, was wanted desperately by her mother, but as an illegitimate child of a lord, her mother had no choice but to send her away to hide his dirty little secret. Then there was Noah, the son of a farmer and his wife, their last child what with being in their forties. Noah had been born just before the end of the Fifth Blight that ravaged Ferelden, just over thirteen years ago now. When her husband died saving their village from darkspawn, Noah’s mother knew she could never afford to care for him. She offered him to the Chantry, hoping to give him a better life. He was transferred to Ostwick to keep him safe from the Blight. Odette remembered Noah’s arrival—it was the day after her eleventh birthday, and she had foolishly allowed herself to believe that the procession was her parents coming to celebrate with her.
Odette looked at Declan again, he was now smiling at her.
“What are you smiling about, little man?” she asked, happy to see him smiling again.
“You got lost in your head again, Deety. Mother Superior says that if you get lost in your head any more, you’ll disappear and won’t be able to find your way out.”
Odette laughed. “I think I’d like to get lost in my head, Declan. The views are much nicer than the tower, and the food tastes better when I imagine it. But I’d miss you—you’re my favorite person in the whole world, did you know that?” She took both his hands and smiled, the ringing of a distant bell interrupting their moment. It was time for morning prayers.
“Go on then, child, join the line,” she sighed, gently nudging Declan towards the huge oak doors where the other children were now forming an orderly line. Sister Pia quickly counted the children as Declan ran to the front and took Amalia’s hand.
“All ready to go,” Sister Pia affirmed cheerily, looking to Ser Reid. Odette would never understand how Sister Pia always managed to stay so cheerful.
Ser Reid opened the door, and they began their walk to the Chantry. The Circle’s grounds were vast, covering several hectares. The nursery was situated at the edge, outside of the more imposing walls, along with the kitchens and the Knight-Commander’s offices. This side of the Ostwick Circle was the most accessible for merchant deliveries and visitors. Mages were not often permitted here in case they tried to run. Odette laughed to herself—what good would running do? Their phylacteries were stored away safely in the heart of the tower, under lock, key, and the watchful eyes of the Templars. Even if a mage managed to escape, it wouldn’t be long before the Templars dragged them back, kicking and screaming, to face the Rite of Annulment. Odette was permitted out here now, of course, now that they had something much more important to hold over her than her freedom.
The procession passed through the main gate into the inner courtyard, which was primarily used to grow wheat and herbs. It was eerily quiet, Odette thought. Even at this early hour, she would usually see the Tranquil out collecting herbs for potions and cooking. Where were they?
They continued on their path. The courtyard was huge, over a mile’s walk to the gardens and training grounds, which were another mile from the Chantry. At long last, they reached the final courtyard, the largest one just outside of the Ostwick Chantry. Odette inhaled deeply as she was hit by the scent of the Crystal Grace, just beginning to bloom. The fragrance reminded her of the gardens at Trevelyan Keep, where she would spend hours in the sun, under the watchful eye of one of her mother’s maids, avoiding her parents’ latest quarrel. She had always been under someone’s watch, even then.
The flowers here were breathtaking—a sea of vibrant colors and intoxicating scents, tended to by the Circle’s skilledTranquil, particularly Caolach. Her heart ached when she thought of him. He had been her only friend in the Circle, the one person who truly saw her, knew her for who she was… or at least who she thought she was. They had practically grown up together, she arriving at the Circle a week after her tenth birthday, two months after he had been dragged from an elven alienage at age eleven for setting a city guard’s uniform on fire. She smiled a sad smile, remembering the mischief he had promised they’d get into and the dreams of a simple life they would have shared together if the ever escaped—building a house, taking in stray dogs, and living as best friends forever. If any Templars came by, she would blast them with her lightning.
They had been children then, but as they grew, she noticed his feelings for her began to change. He became jittery, on edge, jumping whenever she approached. She made him nervous, though she didn’t understand why—until, well, she did. But what did it matter now?
Caolach would have loved her, he would have kept his promises to her. Odette, on the other hand, had not been who he thought she was after all. She had selfishly betrayed him, unwilling to pay the price he ultimately did. She had betrayed him to keep her secret safe—their secret safe. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t have done for him, and they knew that. Knight-Captain Porter was to blame too, she mused. He had ruined everything between her and Caolach, hadn’t he? He had taken pleasure in making her watch as Caolach was made Tranquil for his "crimes"—their crimes she corrected herself as they came to a halt at the sound of someone wailing and struggling.
A Templar recruit burst from a door to their left, leading to the antechamber just outside the mages’ quarters, breaking her from her thoughts. He was struggling to catch his breath and was visibly shaken. Odette rolled her eyes—she could only imagine what kind of prank the senior Templars had played on him. Mice in his bed sheets? Spiders in his porridge? She shook her head. They would break this poor recruit too; the process had already begun.
Looking around like a caged animal, the boy finally locked eyes with Odette, sending a shiver down her spine. Whatever had happened, it was now clear from his eyes that it was more than just a prank. His name was Simon, she recalled. He had only arrived last week with a number of escaped mages from the Gallows who had been recaptured and instantly made Tranquil. He had gotten lost on his first day, bumping into her and Ser Reid as they returned from the nursery for supper. He had smiled and saluted, been friendly to her even, for a Templar. He had introduced himself, mentioning that he was from Kirkwall but had transferred to Ostwick at his mother’s behest. His mother had always worried about him, he had laughed, while Ser Reid remained impassive.
“State your business, boy,” Ser Reid called out. “You’re about to interrupt morning prayers.”
The recruit didn’t respond, staring only at Odette as if he hadn’t heard or seen Ser Reid at all. He just kept staring at Odette, who shook her head slightly. He suddenly became aware of the children, who seemed oblivious to what was happening all but Amalie and Noah. Amalie looked to sister Pia who shrugged and then to Noah with a worried expression. Noah remained stoic. “Look at the flowers everyone! Can anyone tell me what this one is called?” Noah asked pointing at some embrium whilst conveniently leading the children back in the direction of the nursery.
"What is the meaning of this, young man?" Mother Superior finally spoke up, but she was met with silence once again.
"What's wrong with him, Deety?" Declan whispered as he ran to Odette and took her hand.
Odette was still trying to decide how to respond when they heard a crash from the top floor window of the mages' quarters, followed by the sight of a Templar and a mage fighting. She heard screams and glanced at the lower windows—was that…blood on the windowpane? Ser Reid rushed forward to get a better view, and Odette craned her neck to see what was happening.
It wasn't just one Templar and one misbehaving mage. There were several Templars, beating a single mage and drawing their swords. Odette’s entire body was wracked with tremors as the realization hit her—they were slaughtering the mages.
"RUN!" Simon finally screamed.
Ser Reid looked at her and echoed the boy's scream: "RUN NOW!"