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Waves Spreading Outward

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Waves Spreading Outward
A Dragon Age: Origins fanfic


Jowan watched Devin lead his party further into the cellar, and stayed well out of their way.  Perhaps he could follow them at a distance, or maybe there was some other way upstairs... but getting through the castle without being attacked by more of the walking corpses seemed an unlikely proposition.  No, trailing behind Devin and his little band of mayhem-workers was probably the safest thing.

I'm such a coward, the mage cursed himself as he made his way after the others.  He could claim that he was still injured and weak from his torture and imprisonment, that he was not as strong a mage as Devin was, but even so, his biggest problem was fear.  It always had been.  Fear had been what drove him to learn blood magic, too, and look where that had gotten him.

The way Devin had looked at him when he'd backed out of fighting had spoken volumes.  Up until then, his old friend had seemed distressed and angry in turns during their conversation, but at that moment, the blonde mage's handsome features had drawn into that familiar cold, contemptuous look that, despite all his failings as an apprentice in the Tower, Jowan had never once had directed at him.  Of course, he deserved it... but that didn't keep it from hurting.

Half a lifetime of friendship, and I threw it away, he mourned.  He'd spent so much time agonizing over Lily's fate -- she'd broken her vows for him, but had repudiated him at the end, would that help her? -- that he'd spared little thought for his other accomplice.  He'd never thought Devin would be executed for his part in Jowan's escape; the First Enchanter wouldn't have allowed his star pupil to be summarily killed for his relatively minor part in the misadventure.  Or would he?  The thought was chilling.

But Devin's fate hadn't been left to the Circle or the templars, apparently.  A Grey Warden.  A Maker-blessed Grey Warden!  It seemed incredible, although the more Jowan thought about it, the more appropriate it seemed.  Devin had the strength to really do something with his talents, and he'd probably find more satisfaction as a Grey Warden than doing whatever a mage bound by the Circle would be allowed to do.  He'd been a literal misfit in the halls of the Tower from the first day Jowan had met him, and that had never changed.




Jowan looked dubiously at the blond waif who had just been added to their Primal Magic lesson.  The boy looked considerably too young to be in this lecture, and seemed to realize it as he gazed at the four other apprentices already present.  They were all ten or eleven years old, and this child looked six at most.  Still, his expression was sharp, not fearful, when Enchanter Hoen called the class to attention, and it soon became clear that he either already knew something of magic use (how would that be possible for such a young kid?), or he could understand Hoen's theoreticals about the elements almost intuitively.  Jowan found it kind of unsettling, truth be told, but he supposed some people were just naturals at any given talent, even magic.

Near the end of the lesson, when Hoen had asked them to try to surround their hands in a small ball of cold, the new boy, Devin, had been the first to succeed, while the others struggled.  Jowan eventually managed the trick, but two of his other classmates did not; Hoen irritably told them to practice for the next day's lecture as he dismissed the class.  As they trailed out of the classroom, one of the scolded apprentices, Jeralt, grabbed Devin and shoved him against the wall roughly.

"I don't know what your deal is, you little creep," Jeralt snarled, "but show us up like that again, and you'll be taking a nighttime swim in the lake."

Lake Calenhad was, as any apprentice got to know quickly, infamously polluted with centuries of magical residue; swimming in it was to be avoided at all costs, and even the ferryman in his boat wouldn't cross the lake at night.  There were things in there.

Jowan hovered nearby, torn between intervening on the little kid's behalf and staying out of a potential fight.  Jeralt was a known bully, and so far Jowan had been beneath his notice; he wasn't too eager to change that.  But could he really stand by and watch the older boy pick on someone so much smaller?

Eerily, Devin just stared up at Jeralt, not exactly defiant, but definitely not cowed, either.  This seemed to unnerve Jeralt for some reason, and he let go of the younger boy with another rough shove.  "You gonna keep your mouth shut in class from now on?" he managed to say, trying to salvage the upper ground.

"I'm not holding myself back to make a dunce look better," the blonde boy said in a soft, but clearly contemptuous, tone.

"What was that?!" Jeralt demanded. "You little shit!"  He swung a fist at Devin, who didn't duck the blow to his face and was knocked back against the wall.

The younger apprentice's nose began to bleed, but he smiled slightly.  "Maybe you should forget about being a mage and train as a templar instead." His voice oozed with sincerity, but there was nothing but mockery in his eyes.

"That's it, you smartass little freak!" Jeralt raised his fist again.  Jowan ran forward, unable to stand by any longer, but before Jeralt could begin his swing, he was covered in a thin layer of ice.  All three of the other apprentices turned to stare at Devin, who was looking at his hand in mild consternation.  

"More than I meant," he said cryptically before Jowan grabbed his arm and dragged him down the hallway at a run, before Jeralt thawed out and came looking for him.  They ducked into an empty classroom, and Jowan immediately cast a Heal spell -- the first proper spell any of them learned -- on the younger boy.  Devin yelped as his broken nose re-set in the proper position, then felt at it cautiously.

"Thanks!" he said cheerfully to Jowan as he wiped at the blood on his face with his sleeve.  "I think I'm going to like it here.  Much more exciting than the Chantry."




They had become fast friends after that.

It had turned out Devin was a very scrawny eight years old, not the six he seemed; he had lived in the Chantry for as long as he could remember, so he had a better education than most common children his age, and, ironically, he might have grown to be a templar if his magical power hadn't manifested.  But manifest it had, in a pretty spectacular display of telekinesis, from what Devin said, and the boy had been shipped off to the Tower post-haste.

The two of them weathered the long, often boring, and sometimes dangerous lessons of the Tower together, and were always on the verge of trouble outside of class, thanks to their quick wit and smart mouths.  As they grew older, it seemed to Jowan that Devin dragged them into greater and greater risks with their troublemaking, but they somehow always managed to skate away virtually unpunished.  By the adults, anyway.  Devin still got into the occasional scuffle with other apprentices, and sometimes Jowan was unwillingly dragged in, but they usually managed to account well for themselves.  

The pranks and general mischief, Jowan enjoyed greatly.  He got the impression sometimes, after the two of them had just received another lecture from the First Enchanter, that Irving found their antics amusing, too.  It certainly made the Tower seem less like a prison, for a little while at least.

But once Devin hit puberty, his taste in trouble began to change.  His waifish features developed into an angular androgyny that reminded Jowan a little of an elf.  He wondered at times if his friend might be half-elven, in fact; between his looks, his slight stature, his magical prowess and his orphaned upbringing in the Chantry, the theory was an appealing one.  But Devin had never known, and didn't seem to care very much, one way or another.  What he did care about was that his handsome face won him a good deal of attention.  

It wasn't his vanity that bothered Jowan.  In fact, while Devin did put some care into his appearance, he really wasn't any worse than some of the other boys, once they began to discover girls.  It was the fact that the younger apprentice seemed willing to play games with virtually anyone, even those he really, really shouldn't.  Jowan was afraid that Devin would eventually get into trouble with the templars for his wantonness -- not because such things were forbidden among the mages, because they weren't, but because the boy grated on their nerves and their vows to the Chantry.

It took less than two years for his fears to be borne out to some degree.




It was far past curfew when the dormitory door opened and a templar shoved someone inside, muttering disgustedly under his breath as he did so.  Jowan sat up quickly as soon as the templar shut the door, peering into the near-darkness.  Had someone been Harrowed?

The faint yellow glow of the small night-light orbs by the door revealed a familiar form, picking himself up off the floor.  Jowan stifled an oath and hurriedly went to help his friend, almost slipping as he rushed down the ladder of their shared bunkbed.  "Devin?" he whispered urgently as he hauled the younger apprentice to his feet.

Disconcertingly, Devin was laughing, quietly but breathlessly.  "Ohhh, Jowan," he sighed, "don't ever try to kiss a templar, it's a bad, bad idea."

Jowan wrinkled his nose at the wine on his friend's breath.  He'd been up to his usual nighttime entertainments, then, probably with an older mage this time, and had, presumably, tried to be a little too friendly with whichever templar had caught him outside of the apprentice dorms after curfew.

"If this were any place besides the Circle, Dev, they'd have thrown you out a long time ago," Jowan said exasperatedly as he helped Devin towards his bed.  Thank goodness he was on the lower bunk; if he hadn't have been, Jowan would probably have been forced to swap with him for the night.  The last thing he wanted to have happen would be for the boy to drunkenly roll out of a high bunk or fall off the narrow ladder.

"That's the beauty of it," Devin said with a crooked smirk, "they can't dismiss me.  And they can't kill me for that."  His steps were uneven as they walked slowly across the room.  "At least, not that I know of," he added thoughtfully.

"If you keep it up, they might decide to make a new rule, just for you," Jowan muttered, hiding his very real concern.  Fooling around with other mages was one thing, even if he thought the fifteen-year-old was still a little too young for the kind of trouble he went looking for, but messing with the templars was, at best, ill-advised.

The younger boy muttered something that sounded like "hypocrites".  Jowan looked at him oddly, but he didn't elaborate.

Once they reached the bed, Devin sat down tentatively, as if expecting the piece of furniture to suddenly buck him off. How much did he drink tonight? Jowan wondered.  That can't be healthy...

As Devin's head lolled slightly, the older apprentice caught sight of a shadow that seemed out of place on his face.  He grabbed the boy's chin and turned his head, finally seeing the darkened area on his cheek.  It would be a bruise covering half his face by the next day, if left alone.  "Maker's mercy, Devin!" he exclaimed in a strangled whisper. "What is this?!"

"Told you," the boy replied crossly, batting Jowan's hand away, "templar.  Ser Stick-Up-My-Arse seemed awfully touchy, really.  I think it's denial."

"You idiot."  Jowan ducked down to help his friend, mostly to make sure he didn't hit his head on frame of the top bunk, and was surprised when Devin's arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him close.

Oh, Maker, he's not trying his tricks on me, the older apprentice thought,  alarmed.  "Devin, what--"

He had half-expected it, but was still unprepared when the other boy kissed him full on the mouth.  He froze, caught between wanting to shove Devin away and being too startled to do so.  It was only when he felt the younger boy's tongue slide between his slightly parted lips that he found the impetus to move, and he would have hit his own head on the upper bunk in his haste to back away if Devin hadn't maintained his hold.

"Careful, hmm?" the boy said with his trademark grin, the one that got him into trouble, and into beds.

"Andraste's frilly knickers, Devin, don't do that!" Jowan hissed.  It was easier, and safer, to focus on his annoyance instead of the kiss itself.  Maker help me, I need that out of my head, now. Ugh.

"Ahh, you're too good to me, my sweet," Devin said in a saccharine tone reminiscent of one of the older women he reputedly dallied with, Enchanter Lissia. Perhaps that was where he had been, tonight?  He sagged against the other apprentice for a moment, as if his strength (or alcohol tolerance) had finally given out.

For several very uncomfortable seconds, Jowan got the distinct impression that his friend might start to cry, and he awkwardly patted his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong?  C'mon, Dev, this isn't like you at all."

"I," the other boy declared, his voice muffled against Jowan's chest, "am dead drunk. That is what is wrong."  With a slight groan, he finally pushed away from the older apprentice and flopped back onto the bunk.  "Go back to bed, Jowan.  If I don't wake up in the morning, make sure they give me a nice funeral."

With that, Devin clumsily kicked off his soft leather shoes, curled up in his blankets and, to all appearances, fell asleep almost immediately.  Jowan stared at him for a long moment, his consternation slowly growing into a horrible realization.

Why in the world would Devin have said something like "hypocrites"?

What exactly had the unnamed templar done to him, or what had he done to the templar?  

What if he had more marks on him than just that bruise on his face?

"Devin?" the older boy whispered urgently.  There was no reply, and from the sound of his breathing, the other apprentice was truly asleep.  Jowan didn't want to wake him, so he silently cast a Heal spell before climbing back up to his own bunk, his thoughts troubled.

Surely, if something... that bad... had happened, Devin would have said something?  He kept no secrets from his best friend -- much to Jowan's dismay at times.  He was acting strangely, but that could be passed off as drunkenness, maybe.  It was too hard to tell; this wasn't the first time Devin had staggered in utterly sloshed and acting nonsensical, and the boy was far too accomplished a liar, even half-conscious.

"You idiot," Jowan murmured again.  He wasn't sure whether he should be angry for his friend, or at him.




Of course, in the morning, the younger apprentice had claimed to remember nothing after leaving Enchanter Lissia's room, but it was always hard to tell with him, to see past the foxish grin and mocking eyes.  But after that night, Jowan had never again seen his friend in such a fey, vulnerable state.  Had he learned a lesson to be more cautious, or was he just being more discreet?

Surprisingly -- at least in Jowan's mind -- Devin had never tried to come on to him again after that.  That was mostly a relief, but there was a tiny part of Jowan that felt overlooked -- was he not good enough?  Devin flirted with everyone, whether or not they'd reciprocate.  The older apprentice told himself that the boy valued their friendship over his silly games or a night's tumble, but every so often in the next few years, he wondered...

It had been a relief of sorts to meet Lily, to gradually fall in love with a sweet girl and leave behind those uncomfortable thoughts.  But that had led to a desire, a need, to get out of the Tower... and that had led him to this.  Now Lily was gone, Maker knew where. Surely they wouldn't kill her; initiates broke their vows every day, it was just a fact of Chantry life.  But it was likely that he had ruined her life before it'd ever really gotten started.  He knew now that he'd done that to Devin, or at the very least, he'd removed all of his friend's choices and left him with only one path to follow.

And now he'd attempted to kill one of the most powerful and well-loved nobles in the kingdom.  Blood mage, apostate, assassin.  Even if he managed to help Devin stop whatever was happening here, even if Arl Eamon recovered, Jowan knew what fate awaited him.  His mind still shied away from it, afraid to look it in the eye, so to speak, but the invisible sword hung over his head now, and he knew he deserved nothing less.  The only question that remained was what good he could do in the time before the sword fell.


.fin.
Hmm, I had no real plan to write this, but it came out anyway. XD; A bit of fleshing out of Devin's growing up in the Tower, as seen through Jowan's eyes. A complement to Disappointments.
© 2010 - 2024 Jenovan
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Maemi-Sedai's avatar
AMAZING!!! I LOVE THIS FFS!!!!!
... I feel so sorry for Jowan... Q.Q