The evening fog matched the gloomy mood in Castle Redcliffe. While no more undead rose to attack the living, and young Lord Connor had been freed from demonic possession, the Arl still remained in his comatose state, getting neither worse nor better. Most living souls in the area were busy attending to the considerable cleaning and repair that the fortress badly needed. Others were resting in rooms, still wrestling with all they'd witnessed in the previous weeks.
A group of mages from the Circle of Magi and the ragtag band that followed the remaining Grey Wardens in Ferelden were staying the night as guests of the Arlessa as thanks for their help in saving her son. Most of the guests had drifted to their rooms or had gathered in one of the salons to quietly speak. A single figure wrapped in a hooded cloak had warily taken a roundabout way toward the cellars from the guest rooms. A bored Zevran had caught the moment from the corner of his eye and trailed behind the figure. He idly wondered if the figure were out for a tryst or something more sinister. Either way, it had to be more interesting than the dry conversations the Circle mages were having.
The elf became concerned as he followed the figure from the cellar to the dungeon. So much for the tryst idea, he grumped silently. He found a corner and made himself as small and inconspicuous as possible. The figure stopped in front of the only inhabited cell. The blood mage being held sleepily mumbled something. The figure hissed and the mage sat up.
"Jowan! Jowan wake up! Please!" Sevarra hissed, pulling back the hood of her cape.
"Sevvy?" Jowan yawned, obviously still in the process of fully waking up.
"Shh. Not so loud. Don't know if anyone else is here." she whispered.
He rose to his feet and came to the bars of his cell. "What're you doing here? Did something else happen to Connor?"
"Connor is fine. You, however, are not. You know what they'll do to you, right? Why didn't you run when I gave you the chance earlier?"
Jowan sighed. "I already told you. I'm tired of running. I want to make things right."
"Jowan, you know they're more likely to hang you than to hand you over to the Circle, right? The Arlessa doesn't strike me as a wellspring of mercy. Or the Arl's brother, for that matter."
"Well, I am a murderer and a malificar. Maybe I should be hung." he slumped his shoulders.
The Warden snarled. "Except you didn't kill anyone. The Arl is still alive, for now. If anything, you're only guilty of being an idiot. That's not a hanging offense! Everyone makes mistakes, no need to die for it."
"I'm not going to run away. I'll only mess things up again. Perhaps even worse."
"That's not the Jowan I remember. The brother I remember wanted to live," she ran a hand through her hair with a frustrated sigh. "Look, come with me. Alistair and I need the help. Badly. We could keep you safe from the Templars. They can't even say 'boo' if you're busy helping us Grey Wardens. I-I don't care if you use blood magic, even. I know it can make darkspawn just as dead as the magic I use."
"But you're asking me to run away, Sevvy. I don't see a difference between running off to save my skin and going with you."
"There's a sodding giant difference between fleeing to save yourself and fleeing to fight the Blight!" she hissed. "One is a little bit more selfless than the other."
"No.. No, I can't. I'd just get in the way. I just want to go back to the Circle."
"Jowan. I've been back to the Circle. It-it's in ruins. There were demons. And abominations. So many mages and templars are dead. It's not what it was like before. I'm honestly convinced even sweet ol' Cullen would stab you instead of saying hello if you turned up back there. Uldred- he did things, hurt so many people. I'm scared they'd lump you in with him and kill you."
Sevarra stepped back from the bars and wiped away her tears on a sleeve of her tunic. She didn't recall when the tears had begun.
Jowan stood there, looking conflicted for several moments.
"I can't. I'm sorry."
"NO!" The woman growled as she lunged forward, reached through the bars and grabbed the man's collar in both hands. Considering that there was more than 12 inches difference in height between them, this caused her to bonk his head on a bar unintentionally.
"Ow! Hey! Watch-!"
"No! You are going to shut up and LISTEN! You don't understand how many of us died in that tower. More than half of the people we studied with ARE. DEAD. GONE. Just when they need us mages the worst, in a damned blight, our numbers are dwindling. They need every one of us! Can't you see that? ONE mage is worth more than ten soldiers, you know that! I don't sodding CARE if a mage is a malificar. If they'll help us protect people, we will take all the help we can get! The darkspawn aren't going to be particular about who they murder!"
She let go of his collar and pushed him back.
"If nothing else, you owe me, Jowan. Greagoir was going to have me made Tranquil for my little stunt helping you and Lily. If not for the Warden-Commander being there and Conscripting me, I would be dead now."
Jowan slumped his shoulders and hung his head.
Sevarra took several breaths to calm herself. Once she spoke again, the words were icy.
"I am going to open the sodding door. I am going to give you some supplies. By Andraste's tits, you are going to follow this tunnel out to the windmill and escape. If nothing else, you are going to save your own blasted life. Do you hear me?"
After opening the door and shoving a full pack at the taller mage, the woman pulled him into a tight hug. He pulled on a thick woolen cape from the pack and carefully made his way out of the tunnel and toward freedom in the foggy night above. After she was certain he'd gotten away, she spun on her heel and went to the cellar. Zevran was left in his hiding place with his thoughts.
