Never to Rule Over Him
By Of Quirky Excellence
A/N: A waaaay out there Jowan/Fenris AU that has been milling around in my head for days ever since I started a roleplay thread with some friends involving this setting. The roleplay will likely turn out differently than this story, and that's ok. As for the actual characters, I don't know if they will be romantically involved as of now, but I not rule it out as a possibility for later in the plot of this story. Extra note…VERY IMPORTANT! Maeve Amell does not exist in this AU, but she remains in my canon playthrough story, Half Full. So if you like Jowan/Amell, please read that!
Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him.
Jowan imagined having to write that down on a sheet of parchment fifty or sixty times before the Senior Enchanter who taught his class was satisfied the rowdy boys in the back row- Anders being the ringleader, of course, had learned their lesson, that burning holes in each other's trousers was not acceptable behavior. Jowan had surprised the entire class had not been required to write "Thou shalt not laugh, thou shalt not be merry," instead.
If only he had something to be merry about now. If only his worst concern was to be reprimanded for poor handwriting or a badly aimed fire spell. Alas, his lack of proficiency with flames was the least of his concern.
How many times must I muck up? How long before my punishment comes? He shook his head and watched the ship filled with hopeful refugees sailing from Gwaren's harbor, bound towards Kirkwall, a city whose gates he vowed never to pass through. Then he remembered. My punishment is that I continue in this miserable existence. My punishment is that Amell let me live. My punishment is that I was denied death by a merciful hand.
A woman was watching, little did he know. Jowan finally turned away from the sea and sighed. His guard was down at long last, having travelled with the refugees and escorted them safely into the town of Gwaren, where there weren't many doomsayers or even signs that Ferelden was under siege from a Blight. It was so peaceful, and Jowan took a quiet walk down a path he thought was safe. His free days were numbered, however.
The woman signaled to two guards and they followed suit, as silently as they could while dressed in their Tevinter armor. They followed their mistress like one large shadow, and four more guards in identical armor joined them from the shadows.
Jowan took his time collecting flowers and what most would assume were weeds. They were valuable herbs and the former blood mage planned to sell some and keep the rest, eager to use the coin to flee Ferelden, and start a new life. Learn to heal people, never hurt another soul again. Maker knows even this small mercy was too much for Jowan to ask. As he knelt down to harvest some elfroot, Jowan felt the trapped sensation of a Templar's presence, or something like it as he was frozen into place. No, not a Templar, Templars would just smite him and that would be louder and more painful. Another mage was casting a spell he had seen only once in use. Karl had cast such a spell on Anders when he'd broken his arm and it only held the arm in place while it was being healed so the mischievous apprentice would quit squirming for a few moments.
This was different. Jowan's whole body trembled, but he could not move a muscle as he spotted her out of the corner of his eyes. She wore thick robes made in Tevinter with feathery shoulders and a low-cut collar, exposing much of her cleavage. Her hair was thick and raven black, like his, and her eyes an icy blue. They lacked empathy or kindness, tenderness or mercy. But her expression was unreadable, which caused Jowan to fear her even more as she modified the spell, forcing him to the ground like a wounded dog.
He found he could not speak although he was fully aware of everything and everyone around him. She stepped closer now, with a wicked smirk on her face, and one of the guards spoke in a gruff voice. "That was too easy, Mistress. Want us to break him a little so he doesn't struggle?"
"No." She replied coldly. She glanced down, grabbing his wrist, holding his hand up and drawing a dagger. Jowan's heart pounded in his chest and he wanted to cry out, even to warn her of what he was, but nothing would come save for a whimper when he felt her nails digging into his pale and thin flesh.
Then without another word she pricked the back of his thumb with the little knife. Jowan hissed and could feel tears running down his cheeks at a fast pace, from both terror and pain. She let it bleed for a moment and then she met his horrified, wide-eyed gaze. Blood began to rise, and he panicked as he realized she was doing to him what he vowed he would never do to himself again.
Then he felt the power of his mana pulsing through his veins quickly. The aura of blood magic surrounded his offended hand. "Not just a simple herbalist…a blood mage!" the dark haired woman marveled for a moment.
He fought with all his strength of will until he could move the muscles on his face and he spoke quickly, for fear that he never would get that chance again.
"I am already broken. Leave me be!"
He found the strength to pull his hand away and his captor chuckled. "So broken, yet so willfull, yes? My, my will you be a fun experiment for the Master. Guards, bind him and use whatever means necessary to get him to the ship without raising suspicion from the public. Have fun, but if he dies, the one who kills him takes his place in chains."
And with that she stood up walked back towards the harbor, leaving Jowan with six Tevinter soldiers surrounding his trembling, but now mobile form. Having no desire to be trapped or harmed again, Jowan evaded the first two who came towards him with chains ready to shackle his hands, but the four other men drew weapons, so Jowan prepared a fire spell. Releasing it, the flame landed in front of one of the two guards tasked with subduing the frightened mage, and the poor bastard couldn't stop moving fast enough to avoid being burned alive. The other man who held the chains was shaken by his comrade's cries and curses, but he lunged out and tried to grab Jowan regardless.
Remembering the dagger he had used to help fend off darkspawn when he could not risk using his magic, he reached for his belt and unsheathed it quickly. "Let's not get hasty, mage. Someone could get hur-"
The man gurgled on his own blood as Jowan impaled his stomach with the superficial weapon. There was so much blood….Jowan could have used its power to obliterate the entire squadron of Tevinter soldiers, but images of Lily's devastated, betrayed expression flashed before his eyes and he refused the demon's offer.
There was so much blood. What happened next went by in a blurry flash, as Jowan froze up. He had just killed two men. He was afraid for his life and terrified for his future, desperate to preserve his freedom. But not desperate enough to remember that there were four other guards waiting to assist in his capture.
He was luckily unconscious for most of it, but he received a terrible beating and in the end, he was weak, bleeding and only half-conscious as he was dragged towards the ship, hands and feet clapped in irons and covered in dirt, sweat and blood from the brutality of it all.
He never asked to be born a mage, never wanted to become a blood mage. But his destiny would soon be intertwined with that of another, a man so different, and yet so alike, in so many ways.
Fenris never asked to be an elf. Never longed to be a slave. Perhaps he'd wanted to have these markings, maybe he'd even begged for this position despite the memory wipe. Was it merely a side effect, or a bonus for his master? Not even time could tell.
There was a new shipment of slaves to be brought in today, and the elf knew his duty. To accompany Master Danarius into the dungeon to see to it none of the new meat acted up or harmed their captors.
Fenris walked slightly behind his master at a brisk pace, but carefully not to trip or get ahead of the human. If he did he would most certainly be punished. As they walked down the stairs towards the cells Fenris remained stoic, his body language unreadable, expression blank. That was just the way. It was cruel to be soft towards the new slaves. It would only give them the wrong impression of what being here was like. He rarely would see those whose arrival he helped oversee again, either because they died or were sold, but one thing always remained the same, his face did not give away emotion, even if what was going on made him want to feel something. It was just easier if nothing was there to feel.
"Ah, what have we here?" The magister's voice sounded almost warm and inviting. Fenris hated this part. If any of the slaves spoke now they would likely be flogged, or worse.
A young male human sat off to the side of the cell, his body beaten, but nothing so broken that Danarius would ever consider healing. Covered in dried blood and filth the man turned his head slightly. An elven girl lay curled up next to the young man, leaning her head on his leg. Her eyes were clenched shut, but Fenris suspected the young thing was not truly asleep.
The others in the cell were broken elves, mostly. Probably the only thing in store for them would be blood rituals and painful experiments and when master got his money's worth, a death more merciful than starvation on the streets. Fenris remembered being told that was what elves who were not slaves had to look forward to, nothing more. Never anything more than poverty and death on the streets. 'Be grateful my little wolf, you could have been nothing like them. But now you are a prize. A weapon crafted to kill and carried proudly.' Fenris could recall his master saying it now, before he'd been slapped across the face for forgetting himself in his surprise and looking his master in the eyes.
The young human looked wary at the newcomers. He scooted back to a far corner of the cell and the elf at his side started at the sudden movement, sat up and went with him, clinging to his arm. Tears trickled down the young elven girl's cheeks and the human male stroked her hair weakly, trying to be of comfort and failing miserably. At least, Fenris noted silently, He is not foolish enough to speak before he is spoken to.
Danarius looked over his shoulder slightly and nodded to Fenris subtly. "Bring out the one who just cowered to the back, he's the only one who looks like he might be valuable."
Fenris muttered, "Yes, master," before he stepped forward and unlocked the door to the cell.
Jowan trembled and moved to hold the slender form of the elven girl he had befriended on the ship. She was mute, as far as he could tell, and absolutely terrified of just about everyone. The girl gasped as the cell door opened. She sobbed a little onto his shoulder and clung tighter to his arm.
Fenris quickly closed the gap between himself and the two prisoners in the back of the cell and extended his hand towards the male human. Normally were it an elven slave he would have just grabbed him, but humans were superior, he was taught, and as a result his fellow slaves with flat ears got a little bit more respect, only because they were a little closer to his master than he could ever be.
This was why Danarius rarely took human slaves and he favored the elves. He could treat them with equal cruelty. Jowan looked perplexed at the elf's offer and hesitated. The girl let go of him and scrambled away from the elf with the strange markings and snow-white hair.
Jowan stole a glance after his quiet little friend and then his gaze returned to the intimidating elf before him. The elf brought his hand closer and emphasized for Jowan to hurry with a lift of his dark eyebrows. Without any more hesitation or contemplation Jowan took the male elf's hand and let himself be helped to his feet. When their hands touched, Jowan could feel it, just for a moment. The song of Lyrium. He shuddered as he automatically thought of Templars and their cruelty but then he snapped out of it once he was on his feet and he let go of the elf's hand. "Thank you…" he managed. The elf replied to his futile attempt to be pleasant with a curt nod.
He was guided by the arm out of the cell and brought before the magister. "I have heard quite a good deal about you, blood mage. Rumor has it you escaped your Circle and poisoned the Arl of some good-for-nothing Fereldan town, hmm?"
Jowan looked up at Danarius, terror and anxiety written all over his face. The white haired elf quickly bumped the top of his head with a gauntleted hand to lower Jowan' gaze. Jowan, instead of looking down like the elf had assumed he would, looked at Fenris, who refused to meet his pained gaze.
"Now, now, Fenris," Danarius said softly. "He will learn his place in good time. Provided we explain to him what is to be expected of him. And you, young man, have a lot to learn from my Fenris, now, haven't you? Looking your master in the eyes is a sure way to earn a flogging."
Jowan quickly began counting the stone that made up the dungeon's floor in order to contain his emotions.
"Much better." Danarius said, his voice prickly even though the words were supposed to be praise.
The magister reached towards Jowan's face and cupped his fingers under the young man' chin, causing him to flinch slightly and raise his head. "What is your name, slave?"
Jowan's eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. No point in lying, no meaning in telling the truth. If he lied, one more sin the Maker could punish him for, and if he told the truth, he was still nothing. Nothing at all to these all-powerful magisters.
"You would be wise to answer when spoken to, human." Fenris growled menacingly, squeezing Jowan's arm. Again, were it an elf, he would have allowed the man to gape until words were forced to come, but it was curtesy to the human to give him warning that he was at risk of being punished.
"…Jowan." He said meekly. "My name is Jowan."
Danarius chuckled at the young mage's timidness. "Another lesson learned. You will answer when spoken to, my boy."
Jowan nodded very slightly.
"How much magic do you know, and don't lie to me, I know you use the arts your Circles forbid. My apprentice, Hadriana, informed me you put up quite a fight upon your capture as well. Know that there will be none of that here. You will learn to bend to my will and use spells only at my command, and if you misbehave, you shall be punished. If I deem it necessary, you little elven friend back there will be punished instead. You are far too valuable to be killed for petty errors, but she is not, so keep that in mind, mageling. My name is Danarius, but I am your master and you are to address me as such. Are we clear?"
Jowan let tears fall for the mute elf' sake as her life had just been threatened, and he nodded. "Yes, master." He found himself uttering the words softly. The older mage stomped on his bare foot.
"Louder, my boy, so even the deaf and dumb elves back there can hear you!" Danarius roared, startling Fenris and causing the elf's grip on him to falter slightly, just for a moment.
Jowan lifted his foot after the magister stepped off and squinted, gritting his teeth. "Yes master!" He cried.