TALES FROM THE TOWER.
once upon a time, faye amell was not a grey warden.
i. jowan
"A-Amell?"
Faye turned around, smiling prettily. She was sixteen and talented and reasonably well-liked, and in general, everything that Jowan was not.
"Could you – if it wouldn't be too much of a b-bother – could you be m'partner for the project? In Primal, I mean–" The pale, dark haired apprentice wrung his hands, staring hard at the stone floor. "I'm sorry, uhm, everyone e-else I've asked says they're already working with someone and I..." He looked fairly miserable, and Faye had to admit a large part of felt pity for the other mage. Jowan had never quite gotten along with everyone in the Tower – he was socially awkward at best and pitiful in most of his classes, an absolute nervous wreck at his worst. Faye knew that some of the classmates he'd asked had probably lied just because they'd predicted disaster if they worked with him.
...The Chantry taught them to be kind to those in need, right?
Jowan was clearly in need. Of tutoring, if not a friend.
"I'd be happy to, Jowan," she replied. A little white lie to her answer wouldn't hurt anyone. It would probably make him feel better, even. "I've been looking forward to the project; Primal's my favorite school after all." She tilted her head, trying to summon any scrap of knowledge she had of him. "You're not so bad at it either, right? You were one of the first ones to cast a controlled Flame Blast last week." Jowan flushed and looked up to face her hesitantly.
"R-really? You think so? I – I'm alright with fire, I guess, and I managed lightning once..." he trailed off. "We're supposed to teach our partner a new spell though, and you're already-" he waved his hands around, apparently trying to imitate complicated spellcasting. Faye laughed. Sure, he was a bit of a pathetic sight, but he was amusing.
"Primal's my best, so I've worked the hardest at it. Still, I'm not so great at fire, I use lightning and ice the most. They...flow better, if that makes sense? Fire's not – it's not quite so precise, so I don't like it as much." She summoned a little spark to one finger and tossed it to him, a game that many of the apprentices used to train. He fumbled with the loose sleeves of his robes and missed it, the white glimmer dashing itself against the floor. Jowan flushed dark red and looked, if possible, even more miserable.
"S-sorry. I wasn't – expecting that," he stammered.
Faye shook her head. "Don't worry about it. You probably just don't work well when it's focused – Maker, I bet Creation's awful for you," she mused out loud. "What about Shock? I could teach you that. It's a little like Flame Blast, it works sort of the same." Jowan's face brightened, and he nodded semi-enthusiastically.
"That doesn't sound so bad," he agreed, finally losing his stutter. "I could...what about Flaming Weapons? It's not really useful, I guess, but we haven't learned any weapon enchantments in class. I found that one in a book." Jowan looked hopeful, and maybe even a little proud of learning some magic on his own, that Faye didn't have the heart to mention she'd already taught herself Frost Weapons last winter.
"I'd like that. What about – after dinner tomorrow? We have extended curfew because of the weekend, we could practice in one of the classrooms."
Jowan frowned a little. "Aren't we supposed to have Templar supervision for Primal practice though, in case things go- wrong?" He chose not to mention the fact that usually, if he was involved, it did go wrong. Faye grinned, an expression that contrasted her usually studious and well-behaved self, and managed to startle him in the process.
"Don't worry. I'll bother Cullen."
In the weeks to come (Yes, they did pass their spell exchange project with flying colors, thank you very much) the sight of Jowan tagging along after Faye became just another part of the Tower. He would slide into the seat next to her at breakfast and pass the syrup without needing to be asked or watch her with shining eyes as she worked on mastering her spells – she'd been pushing herself even harder and faster in the recent months, despite the fact that her Harrowing was still some years away.
"I need to catch up," was all she said when he asked.
When she was 20, Faye wished that she, like her classmates once, had predicted that disaster followed Jowan.
When she was 21, she cast Flaming Weapons for Alistair's blade and Zevran's daggers, and wondered at the irony of using a spell he'd once taught her to cut down the demons he had now unleashed.