The Blight Inside

By Of Quirky Excellence

Aka LyriumGhost18

Duncan took Maeve by the arm and pulled her aside. He had found no other promising recruits, at least none who were willing to leave the Tower, and he had already invoked the Right of Conscription on Maeve, and Knight-Commander Greagoir had practically ordered him to get her out of the Tower before she became an abomination before their very eyes. Not that she would, of course.

She was too lost without Jowan and furious about Surana's heartless betrayal to say very much as they were rowed across the lake. The breeze felt really refreshing and the spray of the lake was a new sensation, but a wolf's cry in the distance forced Maeve's head up from its bowed position.

She shuddered and wept. "Jowan…Maker preserve you…"

Duncan looked at her with a sympathetic gaze. "I am sorry, Mistress Amell. I hope time will ease your pain."

Maeve frowned deeper, and she let out a scoff that she was too upset to stifle. "As if you care. The only thing I regret is not escaping with him. Now I am trapped yet again." She said stiffly.

It was unlike the young red-haired mage to be so cold, especially towards someone she had just met. This man had basically saved her life, however, so she began to feel guilty, in the back of her mind.

"I'm sorry." She said softly, looking down at her feet.

"I understand. There is no need to apologize, I was like you once-"

That crossed a line with Maeve. "You were never like me! Bloody Templars watch us all day, all night. Every moment we must be on guard. And then they test your skill. If you fail, they end you. If you're too weak, they do something even worse. They castrate your mind. And… oh, this is the best part!" A humorless chuckle escaped her lips. "If you pass, you're watched even more carefully! 'Cause the only thing worse than an apprentice getting possessed or turning to blood magic is if a full mage does!"

Duncan sighed calmly and shook his head sadly. "I am sorry, my dear. None of this can be easy to handle-"

"Look, can we just not speak? You trying to understand is only making it worse. You'll never understand." Maeve turned her head away and stared off into the distant wilderness, wondering how far Jowan had gotten, if he was all right, and if he was as hurt and utterly terrified as she was.

They stayed at the inn near the docks. Everyone in the tavern was shocked to see a mage there and Duncan practically had to announce he was a Grey Warden and she was a Warden Recruit under close supervision. After that, however, Maeve was shown to a very small, but fairly well-kept room at the inn, and Duncan told her to get some rest.

She nodded and gazed at the senior Grey Warden with a new emptiness in her sea blue eyes. When the door closed she looked into the mirror and washed her face with the water from a nearby basin. His blood was all over her robes, and she failed to hold back her tears of anguish as she realized how much of it he had used to knock back the Templars. All to protect Lily. Maeve knew Lily would never forgive Jowan or what he had done, whether or not she was sent to the secret prison, Aeonar. The bitterness Maeve felt was agonizing, as she simply loved Jowan and only wanted him to be happy, even if his heart belonged to someone other than her.

She didn't hate him for lying to her about the blood magic, but it hurt. She understood why he wouldn't have told Lily, or even Fen'Asha, but why not her? She may have been a very talented mage with lots of promise but she bore no love for the Chantry and their oppression toward mages.

Although she was opposed to the use of blood magic, she understood why Jowan had used it, especially with how desperate the situation had gotten outside the repository. Her long, chestnut colored hair was in a single, thick, messy braid. She sobbed a little when she saw it and recalled a time when she was about fourteen at the Tower.

"I should really ask Senior Enchanter Wynne to cut my hair, it's getting too long!" Maeve told Jowan on the way to a Primal lecture with Karl. Their pace was quick, their faces young and eager, minds hungering for more knowledge, not just of magic but of the ways of the world. Little did they know that they would both learn the world wasn't all fun and games in just a few short years.

"No, Maeve!" The dark-haired youth's grey eyes narrowed, his boyish features full of life and free of major stress. The only sign he was uncomfortable was his eyes, looking only slightly discontent.

"It's so stubborn though! Getting it into this braid every day, taking it out at night…"

Jowan's pale, warm fingers stroked the braid gently. "But it's perfect! It's so soft!"

He continued to play with her hair and she giggled, her cheeks flushing a little bit. "Really?" She asked between bouts of innocent laughter. "Jowan, stop! You'll mess it up!"

He joined in her laughter and let the braid fall gently so that it rested over her shoulder.

"Yes! Don't ever cut it! Your hair is beautiful!" he said timidly, blushing slightly.

Maeve threw her arms around her childhood companion and pulled him into a tight, but gentle embrace. "Don't ever change, Jowan…Don't ever change."

Tears streamed down her face as Maeve took the braid in her hands. "Jowan, wherever you are, be safe, my love…" she closed her eyes. "And I hope someday, somehow, I will have another chance to be with you."

Then she spotted the shaving razor intended for male guests at the inn. She took it in her hands and contemplated how quickly the blade would slice through her gorgeous ginger locks. And then, with one clean swipe, she hacked the braid away so her hair was just above shoulder length.

"Until then, I shall never love again."