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A best friend, Jowan thought, was someone you could go to in a crisis, and this was a crisis.
"They think I've been doing blood magic," he said. "Blood magic! They're going to make me Tranquil, Solona, do you understand?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Jowan. Be honest. Have you been doing blood magic?"
"No! How could you ask me that?"
She sighed and stalked over to his bed, yanking up the corner of the mattress to show Pomeraine's Forbidden Guide to Blood Magic hidden underneath. "Well?"
"I … have no idea how that got there," he lied.
Solona dropped the mattress with a thump. "Honestly, Jowan, I don't care. So long as you don't slit anybody's throat for it, I really don't care. The Chantry can go fuck itself."
"Then you'll help me," Jowan said, quickly switching tack. "Please, Solona, I'm begging you."
"Oh, stop. Of course I'm helping you. Come on, I know exactly what to do."
She marched him up to the guest bedrooms and hammered on the door. (Guests got doors. It was so unfair.)
"Grey Warden? May I have a moment of your time?"
The man was beardy and dangerous, and Jowan was alternately terrified and intrigued as he watched Solona browbeat a heroic Warden into conscripting Jowan and taking him away from all this.
"He knows blood magic," Solona said, as if it was a good thing. Jowan hissed at her to shut up, but the Warden was already looking him over with interest. "Surely that's something you don't want the Circle to waste by tranking him."
Duncan nodded. "Very well. I had hoped to acquire you, Mage Surana. Perhaps the First Enchanter will allow me to take you both."
"I must decline," Solona said loftily, sounding every bit as proper as a Chantry Mother. "My duties here are too pressing to be neglected. But thanks."
"What duties?" Jowan demanded as she hustled him away to pack. "You don't have any duties, you just got Harrowed."
"I'm going to tumble that Templar," Solona said, determination shining in her face. "The curly one with too much wax in his hair. He's fit and he likes me, and I'm pretty sure I can get him to defect and we can run away together to Tevinter."
"Oh! Wait, do you think I can get the Grey Wardens to conscript Lily in your place?"
Solona gave him a withering look. "She's not good enough for you, Jowan. She'll ditch you the second she finds out about the blood magic. Now." She fixed him with a serious look, and ruined it by reaching up to pinch his cheeks. "Be good. Try not to fuck this up, all right?"
Solona, as it turned out, was absolutely right about Lily.
Jowan tried not to sulk about it, but he did sulk all the way to Ostagar. It was sulk-worthy. The outdoors was full of things he'd never imagined. On the one hand, it was full of freedom. Unfortunately, freedom was full of wasps.
"I thought they were bees!" he complained as Duncan put mud on his stings. "The illustrations in Derringer's Almanac were very specific! But then, they were a lot smaller than I expected and it's hard to see the details."
Duncan handed him a health potion. He was already developing that groove between his eyes that all of Jowan's teachers eventually ended up with. "Stay away from flying insects," he said wisely, "and we might just make it to the battlefield."
"Battlefield? There's going to be a battle?"
"Yes." Duncan frowned, that groove deepening. "How did you think we were going to fight the Darkspawn?"
"With pamphlets?" Jowan said wretchedly.
The look on Duncan's face suggested that, no, it would not be with pamphlets.
Sulking intensified.
Alistair was charming for a Templar, and Jowan tried very hard to look cool and suave and definitely not like a Blood Mage. Even an ex-templar-recruit-turned-grey-warden would probably have Opinions about that.
Of course, that went tits up the moment Jowan stepped off the path in the Wilds and straight into an ambush of Darkspawn. He did what any Circle-trained mage would do in a situation like this: he screamed loud enough to wake the dead and then he slit his wrists.
Later, when Alistair was bandaging them up for him, he gave Jowan a very disapproving look and said, "It's not that bad, being a Grey Warden, apart from the food, the accomodation, the darkspawn, all the shouting … you know, I take that back, go ahead and bleed out if you feel like it."
"You're not … mad?"
"About you leaking blood all over my favourite armour? Well, my only armour, but favourite by default. Anyway, no. Your blood isn't nearly as mucky as darkspawn blood. Plus, I like the lightning trick."
Jowan stared at him. And then, because he really couldn't help himself he said, "You know, I know another lightning trick. If you're ever … interested?"
It seemed to go right over Alistair's bristly head. "Sure, anything that keeps 'spawn off our backs." He helped Jowan up, and glanced over his shoulder. "I think we're meant to be going that way. Ready?"
"Definitely," Jowan said, trying to sound firm and not like someone who might fall headfirst into a bog.
It was two bogs, and a beartrap, and Daveth was snickering at him he knew it. Jowan was trying very hard not to remember the page in Pomeraine's Forbidden Guide to Blood Magic that talked about sucking the life right out of your companions, when the witch showed up.
She looked exactly like a witch, like someone who lived in a swamp and danced naked under the moon, and Jowan fell in love with her at once despite Alistair's obvious disapproval.
"Couldn't I stay here in the Wilds?" Jowan asked tentatively. The witch smiled at him in a cunning sort of way, and Jowan just wondered if he might be better off with her instead of, well, fighting darkspawn, which he was pretty sure he was going to be bad at.
"No," Alistair snapped. "Come away from the witch, Jowan, before we're all turned into frogs."
"I don't think that's actually possible," Jowan said. It sounded like apprentice talk, and therefore nonsense. (He had by now conveniently forgotten that he was, strictly, still an apprentice.)
"Must you tell him so?" Morrigan sighed, pouting. "His fears are so entertaining. Perhaps later he will cry himself to sleep over it."
Jowan wondered if maybe she wasn't a very nice person. But she was so pretty he didn't like to think of it. "You know, one of the older apprentices taught me this electricity trick that--"
"If you want your precious treaties returned to you then you had best come along," Morrigan said, almost as if she didn't care about his electricity trick. "Come and meet my mother."
'Mother' sounded promising. Jowan had read about mothers in stories. They baked. They gave you hugs and ruffled your hair.
He hoped they were going to be invited for dinner.
When Jowan asked if he could stay, Morrigan's mother laughed in his face. "You? No. I see a different destiny for you than the one most men find in my hut."
It sounded ominous. Jowan glanced around surreptitiously, trying not to look like he was searching for suspicious looking bones.
When she'd let them go, Jowan asked Daveth if he thought Morrigan and her mother ate the men she brought home.
Daveth gave him a sidelong look. "Pretty sure they save that for after. You know, after dessert."
"What does that mean?" Alistair wanted to know. "Is that a euphemism?"
"Yeah, like they 'turn them into frogs'," Daveth said, making wiggly gestures with his fingers, "and then 'cook them up in a pot' and 'eat them'. Naked."
"Oh, I see. You mean they have sex with them," Jowan said morosely. He didn't mind sex. He could have happily had sex with Morrigan. Maybe her mum too was a bit weird, but, well. Witches. Who knew? "Maybe I should have stayed."
Alistair sounded like he was choking to death. Daveth elbowed Jowan in the ribs. "They were still going to eat you after," he offered, as if it was a consolation.
Jowan decided to pretend that it was.
Three bogs, and Duncan gave Jowan such a Look when he said he needed to go feed flowers to a dog.
"He's a very sick little puppy," Jowan whined. "I can't let a puppy die! That would be awful."
"He's the size of a beer keg," Alistair muttered.
"He's a beautiful baby," Jowan argued, indignant.
"Go on," Duncan said, rubbing that groove between his eyes. "Just be quick about it."
Of course, they got completely turned around, or rather Jowan did, and then he walked smack bang into his Magical Ethics teacher.
"Oof," he said from the ground, wondering why he was wet again. Wetter, rather. Ah. A puddle. Of course.
"Jowan!" Wynne stared at him as if he'd grown horns and a tail. "What in Andraste's name are you doing here? Only the most competent-- that is," and she cleared her throat. "I wasn't expecting to see someone so young and inexperienced here at the battle. You do know there's going to be blood," she added, eyeing him doubtfully.
"Oh, the irony," Alistair muttered.
Jowan gestured for him to shut up. He definitely didn't want Wynne to know about the blood magic thing. "I'm going to be a Grey Warden," he said brightly.
Her face … did something. Sort of a wince combined with a shudder. "Well, child, I can only hope that you direct all of your talents into staying alive. Maker bless you and guide you."
"That went well," Jowan said, watching her stride away. "Gosh, she's in a hurry. I was expecting a lecture about responsibility and hard work. Come on," and he tugged at Alistair's arm. "Let's go pat the puppy!"
The puppy only bit him once, which Alistair had to agree was something of an improvement on the day as a whole.
"Why are we doing this in our underpants?" Jowan asked.
"Because it is a sacred ceremony, and shows your willing surrender to your fate." Duncan said. "And it is not because the senior wardens are perverts," he added, casting a baleful look at Alistair.
"I mean, I was just saying--"
"You should be saying the traditional words, Alistair."
"All right! Sorry. Ahem."
Alistair managed for once to look actually respectful. It was only a little ruined by the fact that Jowan was in his underpants, and cold, and feeling a lot skinnier than anyone else who was in their underpants.
"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you."
That, Jowan thought, sounds ominous. I wonder what it means?
About five minutes later, when the screaming had died down, and Daveth and Jory were just dead, Jowan found himself staring into a cup of darkspawn blood mixed with the Maker knew what and thinking that he probably should have seen this coming.
Maybe I should have let them trank me, he thought, wondering how he was going to swallow blood. Maybe he could pretend it was gravy? Gravy was blood, right?
He looked at Duncan, and down at Jory, and at Alistair, who was studiously not looking at him at all.
Fine. He drank. It tasted like one of Solona's poultices, the kind Jowan hadn't known you weren't supposed to put in your mouth.
Well, he thought, wiping his face. That went well.
And then he passed out.
"So you're a Grey Warden!" Alistair told him when he woke up. "Well done, I thought for sure you'd be the one to kick off but good for you!"
"Why is my head bandaged?" Jowan asked. "What did you do to me while I was unconscious?"
"I bandaged your head," Alistair said slowly, "because you were bleeding everywhere and I thought you might prefer your blood on the inside of your body. You know. In case you needed it later."
"Why was I bleeding?"
"You hit a rock when you passed out. I mean, I don't see why we don't just get people to lie down for it, everyone always passes out. Or dies. Wouldn't it be neater if they were already lying down?" He grinned. "Anyway, well done. Come on, you probably want trousers. Or robes. Whichever you prefer."
Jowan, who had never been allowed to wear trousers, wanted trousers very much, but it turned out there were only robes, ugly ones, and a very ugly mage hat. "This is ten years old," Jowan complained. "No-one wears these anymore. They make you look like a turkey."
"They protect your head," Alistair insisted. "Your very bleedy head."
"They don't," Jowan argued, and poked a hole through the seam. "They help you focus. But, to be honest, mostly I'm focusing on the fact that I have turkey head. No, I'm not wearing it."
"Suit yourself. Come on, let's go. Duncan says we have to listen to the king."
The king, Jowan decided, was a bit of an idiot. Good looking, but an idiot. Probably it would be bad to flirt with the king. Would it? It would. He was married. Jowan thought probably that meant he shouldn't flirt with him. Plus, darkspawn. Sort of important, that.
"I don't know why you're sulking," Jowan said to Alistair after. "We don't have to fight at the front! We'll be safe all the way back here, away from the Darkspawn. We might actually live through this."
Alistair was so mournful about it. "I wanted to fight with Duncan. I'm not a baby, but they keep treating me like … oh, I don't know."
"Oh." Jowan figured it made sense. Duncan was so beardy and gruff, and probably if he wasn't frowning at you that could be attractive. Well, even if he was. "Are you two sleeping together, then?"
"What?" Alistair went a dire sort of red. "No!"
"Are you sleeping with anyone at all, then?"
Oh, now he'd gone beetrooty. "What kind of question is that?!"
"A legitimate one," Jowan protested. "I'm not sleeping with anyone at the moment, if you were curious. I had a girlfriend but she was a Chantry novice and not very … well. She was devout," Jowan explained, wondering now that he said it aloud. Lily had been a lay sister, after all. She hadn't been that devout. Maybe, he thought darkly, it had just been him.
Whatever it had been, Alistair didn't talk to him for the rest of the day. Not until things started exploding and there were Darkspawn where there weren't supposed to be Darkspawn, and Jowan accidentally pulled quite a lot of blood out of a nearby soldier, but it was fine because Alistair didn't see and, anyway, he put most of it back later.
"Do we really need to be doing this?" Jowan demanded, trying to untangle his robes from a sort of impromptu wooden fortification that had a lot more spikey bits than were probably necessary. "I mean--"
"Weren't you listening? We need to light the beacon or everyone's going to be killed!"
"Yes, but, you see," Jowan argued, "I feel like if we do this then I'm going to be killed, and I'd like to not be killed, please!"
Alistair rolled his eyes. "Stay behind me! Just try not to impale yourself on anything!"
"You say that like it's easy! It isn't easy, I'll have you know, it's a constant struggle!"
"Shut up and set someone on fire, or something!"
Jowan did his best. Darkspawn, it turned out, were reasonably flammable.
It was going all right until they got to the top of the tower, and something the size of … nothing Jowan had ever seen lumbered out of the shadows to roar at them.
"What the ARSE IS THAT?!"
"Ogre! Stay behind me!"
"Then stay bloody still!" Jowan huffed, struggling to keep up. Maker, he needed trousers. They looked so comfortable, so much easier for running in than robes.
Of course that was when Jowan got tangled in his robes. Of course that was when he fell over.
Of course that was when the ogre spotted him.
Oh, yes, definitely going to die, he thought.
The fireball was instinct. The large rock that followed it came as something of a surprise because he'd never been any good at that one before, how nice.
He got to watch Alistair charge up the side of the ogre and stab it in the face. It was, Jowan thought, quite a dashing thing to do.
"Are you all right?" Alistair knelt down by his side, and Jowan thought about whether or not now would be a good time to kiss him.
"I think I might have sprained my pelvis," he said hopefully.
It wasn't fair, really, how bad the Darkspawn's timing was.
Jowan woke up naked, again, and promptly fell out of bed.
"Ow, ow, no I'm fine," he said, rubbing his aching face.
"I do wonder," said a familiar, alluring voice, "If you have an inner ear imbalance of some sort. 'Tis a likely thing, with your many, many bruises."
"I mean, possibly. My mentor said I was cursed."
"Your mentor?" Morrigan asked.
"He was sent to Kirkwall. For, um. Definitely nothing to do with blood magic," Jowan lied.
"How unfortunate."
"Well," Jowan gestured to himself. "Cursed. Do you have any trousers I could borrow?"
"Are you not curious as to how you came to be here, in my mother's hut?" Morrigan asked, her eyes narrowing.
"Er, no? Mostly just grateful. I'm quite naked, though, so I … wait, is this the part where we have sex and then you eat me?"
She stared at him for a long moment. There was something in her eyes that, for some reason, made him think of spiders. Big hairy spiders, with lots of horrible pointy legs.
"No. My mother," she said, "transformed into a giant bird and plucked you from the tower. If you were wondering."
"That's sounds impossible and fascinating," Jowan said. "Do you think I might have my robes back?"
"Suit yourself," Morrigan said crisply. "They are very, very ugly."
"Yes, I know. But they were free and I've never had a job, and I don't think the Grey Wardens pay very well."
She shrugged. "Coin is easily found on the bodies of the dead. And goods, which one may sell in order to procure more coin."
"Isn't that looting?"
"Yes?"
"Is looting allowed?" Jowan asked.
Morrigan shrugged again. "'Tis no concern of mine if it is or if it is not. Are you not bound to a higher purpose than the law of men?"
"I don't know?" He tried his best cheeky smile, the one Lily had claimed to like. "So, we're not going to have sex?"
"Hopefully never," Morrigan said. "Come, Warden. Your destiny awaits. Hopefully far, far away from here."
Hopefully.
Jowan wondered if destiny included breakfast, or just wasps.
Only one way to find out.
Dear Solona,
I hope this finds you well, if it finds you at all. I have been made a Grey Warden which is apparently very secret so I can't tell you anything except that it's disgusting. I have made two friends, Alistair (who is friendly but smells) and Morrigan (who smells delightful but likes to turn into a giant spider to win arguments). I also have a dog! I've named him Button, but Alistair insists on calling him Butt so I might change it.
Lothering seems like a nice village. I hope nothing bad happens to it. Anyway, I have to go see a lady about a giant in a cage (not a euphemism). I wish you all the best.
Yrs sincerely,
Grey Warden Acolyte Jowan [obscured by bloodstains]
PS Please excuse bloodstains, there was a bit of an accident but I'm fine, I promise. Love you!