A/N: This is written from Joseph's pov. He and Joss are now 15.
My thanks to Lisa for her wonderful beta skills!
Insights
After five years, he found he still missed the oddest things. Things he had taken for granted, without ever realizing their importance in his life. He often wondered if coming to the Tower at a very young age wasn't easier for all involved. Joss seemed to be a part of the very Tower itself, while he often felt like an outsider. Or perhaps, he reflected sadly, she had just learned to adjust easier than he had.
He missed corners, for one thing. The Tower was all gentle curves and rounded edges without corners to speak of. He had spent most of the first year feeling faintly dizzy from the lack of definition in the rooms and the curving hallways.
He missed the feel of grass, springy and ticklish under bare feet, especially in the fields around the small stone manor that he had once called home. There was something indefinably sweet about freshly-mown grass on a hot summer day.
He missed the hush created by a blanket of new-fallen snow. The world was a dazzling and muted sea of white, in which even the birds sang softly. He remembered hours spent watching the snow accumulate along the stone fences that marked their fields, waiting to be the first to step foot in the newly created world of white.
He missed being able to saddle a horse and ride across the gently rolling hills under a beaming sun, the wind warm and welcoming as his horse galloped through the summer day.
Much to his surprise, he didn't miss his parents. The moment Joss's magic had manifested, they had become wary and watchful, their eyes filled with sorrow. They were waiting for him to become a monster. He had tried to hide his own magic, but only because Joss had demanded he do so when they had finally figured out how to meet in their dreams.
Now, watching Joss weave together a combination of flame and wind that created an inferno of fire contained within a circle no larger than a serving platter, he realized that what he missed was not nearly as important as what he'd found – the other half of himself. That part of him that had mocked him with memories, and a feeling of emptiness even when he was in a crowd, was silent now that he had found Joss again.
He would never be the mage she was. They both knew it but neither of them verbalized it, as if doing so would further weaken his spell casting. He watched her inferno blink out of existence as she flashed a bright smile at him.
"Your turn, Joey!" she said, stepping back.
When his spell grew too large to control and threatened to set the practice room, and them, ablaze, she called up a rain cloud and doused his ever-growing inferno. He wanted to be angry but she clapped him on the back.
"Much better!"
It was important, she claimed, that he learn to control his spells because a controlled spell was less likely to attract the attention of the demons. She'd gone on to explain that his mental outlook was even more important. At the moment, he was more concerned with her mental state than his own.
She still refused to see Owain, going out of her way to avoid him. And her humor had become almost too irreverent now, as if she needed to constantly be entertained so she didn't dwell on Owain's decision to become tranquil. He suspected that she took responsibility for that decision and that it weighed heavily on her, for all that Owain had wanted it.
"Bollocks. I'm never going to be the mage you are. Let's see if Cook Killdare has some of those scones hidden away," he said when he realized she was waiting for a response.
As they made their way to the kitchens, they stopped to greet Ser Bran, Ser Moresby, Ser this and Senior Enchanter that. Joseph had learned early on that he and his twin viewed the templars very differently. She saw most of them as protectors, there to keep her safe from a world that feared mages. He viewed them as little more than gaolers. He saw the senior enchanters as mentors and parents, and actually enjoyed Wynne, while Joss detested her as a nosy old busybody.
She stopped suddenly. "You go on, Joey. I'm going back to the dorm."
"You have to face him some time, Jo."
"I have," she protested. "It's just that I remembered I wanted to talk to Niall about a lesson."
Joseph gripped her arm tightly. "You haven't, Joss. Not once. Seeing him from a distance isn't the same, and, while I know he can't feel hurt by that, I feel badly for him."
She shook his hand off. "Fine, fine. But if I cry, so help me, I'll make you sorry," she promised.
"Josslyn Winifred Amell. Welcome to the stockroom of magical items. I am not feeding the demons."
Joseph watched the color drain from Josslyn's face and then come flooding back. She smiled softly. "You look well, Owain."
"I am well, Josslyn. I am at peace. Thank you."
"Sure, happy to help," she said and then looked stricken by her words.
"You look tired. Are you plagued by demons?" Owain asked in his even tones.
Joss made an odd sound in her throat and Joseph stepped closer, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "She's just been busy playing practical jokes on people. You know Josslyn."
"Yes, I know Josslyn Winifred Amell. Light-hearted joy."
There was no change in his expression, but Joseph thought he heard a slight wistfulness in Owain's voice and then thought he'd imagined it as the Tranquil then asked if they required anything from the stockroom. Joss shook her head and then dragged Joseph away, practically running to the kitchen.
She still searched the Fade for Owain, though she claimed that she didn't. He understood it was guilt that drove her into the Fade several times a month. She had to make sure some part of him wasn't trapped there.
She was much more adept at shaping their Fade experiences than he was, although he had laughed loudly at her idea of a forest. It looked like the large painting hanging in First Enchanter Irving's office…lots of stiff trees and a few gnarled stumps. He recreated all the places of his childhood and she studied them with admiration, staring around her as if memorizing the scene.
She was the reason they finally got caught in the Fade and she never stopped feeling guilty about it. They were, once again, searching for Owain, when she stumbled onto a dream that seemed to mesmerize her. She kept creeping closer, even though they had sworn never to enter a dream again, after that fiasco with Buckethead.
"I think he's in there," she said, pointing to a dark room. She stepped closer, calling softly.
"What in the Maker's name are you doing here?" Wynne asked, stepping out of a shadow and pointing an accusing finger at them.
They ran, even though they both knew it was too late. They ran so fast, and so far, that they ran into a demon. Desire Demon. Of all the demons, they were the hardest for Joseph to resist. Even now, he felt the irresistible pull of the demon and took a step closer. She promised him freedom and a normal life, and, while some part of him knew she was lying, that he wouldn't ever have those things, he was tempted.
Joss, however, was not tempted. At. All. She threw a fireball at the demon, thatwrithed in agony and hurled foul epithets at them as they started running again. Which was silly, now that Joseph thought about it. All they had to do was wake up.
They were dragged before Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving the following morning. Wynne stood, arms folded and face set in stern lines, and Joss belligerently refused to say a word. Joseph had no illusion that they could hold out against the three most powerful people in the Tower and he didn't bother trying.
As he explained their ability, he realized for the first time how rare their gift was. Irving went to his bookshelf and pulled down a thick volume, dust motes dancing in the air when he opened the book.
"You realize that only one in a thousand mages are born with such a gift? For two ages, no mage has shown such abilities. Yet we have not one, but two of you in our Tower."
There was a proprietary note in Irving's voice that made Joseph nervous. He moved closer to Josslyn, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He wasn't sure if she was reassuring him or seeking reassurance but he squeezed in return.
"Thank you, Wynne. You may leave now. I expect you to keep this information to yourself."
"Of course, Irving, but the dangers are…" Wynne began but he cut her off with a sharp chop of his hand.
"That will be all."
After she left, Irving launched into a lecture about the responsibilities of being a Somniari, which was, he went on to explain, what the magisters of the Tevinter Imperium called such mages. The more he talked, the more guilty Joss looked. Or so it seemed to Joseph. Outwardly, someone who didn't look too closely would see her stance as one of stubbornness, but he saw the unease behind her eyes.
"What of the demons?" Greagoir asked.
"What of them?" Joss responded. Maker, if she didn't get out of there soon, she'd explode with magic. He squeezed her hand again and she glanced down at their hands and then at him. She nodded slightly.
"When we come across a demon, we kill it," Joss finally admitted.
"And you are strong enough to withstand their temptations and their machinations?" the knight-commander asked, surprised.
"Of course. We know what we're doing."
Well, that wasn't true or they wouldn't have been caught, but Joseph didn't correct her. And she probably wasn't nearly as tempted by the demons as he was. Not that he would ever give in to them. Still, he knew it was more difficult for him to resist them than it was for Joss.
"Think of what this means," Irving crowed and Joseph finally understood why Joss disliked him. There was an avaricious gleam in his eye.
"It means that should the Chantry be made aware of them, they will be summarily executed, if this book is any indication," Greagoir said, snapping the book shut, sending up a small cloud of dust.
"Yes, I see your point. Still, we need to proceed carefully. I have several colleagues who might be of assistance."
Joss spoke up then, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Like the colleagues who send nobles here to find tutors for their children?"
Irving's face turned the color of chalk and his eyes narrowed. "What I do, I do for the good of everyone in the Tower, Josslyn Amell, and I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head You are and your brother are not to talk about your talent to anyone without my prior approval."
They were walking back to the dormitory when Joseph stopped, his hand reaching out to stop Joss as well. "What did you mean about the nobles and tutors?"
Joss shrugged. "Sometimes nobles come here, looking for tutors for their precious little children. Usually they decide on a young, unharrowed mage, almost always pretty and usually an elf. Of course we never see them again."
Joseph's grip on her arm tightened. "How do you know?"
"What do you mean, how do I know? How do you think I know?"
"When?"
"Two years ago. Some pompous prat wanted a young red-haired tutor for his son. He was from Kirkwall. Said I was the perfect shade and when I claimed my hair wasn't red, he decided there was only one way to tell for sure. He wanted me to strip down. I froze him to the floor and ran."
She gave a chuff of laughter, looking completely unrepentant and he couldn't have been prouder of her. "Isn't there anything that can be done to prevent the nobles from taking mages as tutors?"
"Greagoir tried to stop it, but the Chantry relies on donations and tithes, especially from the nobles, so they turn a blind eye. At least he tries to prevent it, and in the last few years, fewer girls have been taken. He makes sure those chosen for an interview are dressed badly and he warns them to talk like they're idiots. Still, it shows what complete pricks the nobles and the Chantry are."
"So that's why you get crazed when someone calls you a redhead?"
Joss gave him a sheepish grin. "I do not get crazed. I merely set people straight."
"I think several people here would disagree. In fact, I'm one of them."
"Stuff it, Brother," she retorted with another grin.
After that first meeting with Owain, Joseph noted that Joss went out of her way to pass by the stockroom and stop and talk to Owain. He felt a blush of pride spread through him. Pride in her for finally accepting Owain, and pride in himself for understanding her well enough to help her find her footing again.
Three weeks after they had been caught in the Fade, Joseph discovered she was, indeed, herself again. She and Niall were having a contest to see who could cast the most powerful storm. He dubbed it a storm clash and they filled the practice room with their storms. Everyone watching got soaking wet and the wind howled around the room. Ser Bran stuck his head in and quickly pulled it back out, slamming the door behind him.
Finally, Joss, her face pink with effort, broke his storm, sending raindrops splattering to the floor as her own storm overpowered the remnants of Niall's.
"You red-haired witch!" Niall exclaimed, wiping the sweat from his brow. Joseph froze, wondering what retribution Joss would seek. Niall froze as well, waiting, a look of panic on his face.
"Andraste's belly-button lint! It's auburn!" she exclaimed and then laughed, much to everyone's relief.
Joseph eyed his sister suspiciously. Her motto had always been: Get mad and then get even. It seemed more than a bit strange that she would laugh Niall's comment off, all things considered.
It wasn't many days later, however, when Joseph heard Niall's scream reverberate through the bathhouse. Joseph wrapped a towel around himself and ran for the dressing room and promptly burst out laughing. Niall's dark brown hair was a bright, apple red. As was the towel he'd used to dry his hair with.
Ser Bran and Ser Stoker came running in right behind Joseph, and they too stopped in their tracks as laughter overcame them.
"Josslyn Amell!" Ser Greagoir shouted a few minutes later.
Joss, voice full of mirth, called out, "Are you letting me into the bathhouse during the men's time? I am so lucky!"
"No! Stay where you are, young lady!" Greagoir exclaimed as several younger mages scrambled for their towels. Except, Joseph noted with a grin, Anders, who stood where he was, naked as the day he was born, a smile lighting his face.
It had been a surprise to Joseph when he discovered he actually preferred men to women. But he knew, at least in the Tower, that there was no stigma attached to that predilection. He hadn't told Joss yet, but she seemed to know everything about him even when he tried to keep it from her, so he wouldn't be surprised to discover she had already figured it out.
Of course, if he professed his affection for Anders to her, she'd probably freeze him to the floor or something else equally painful. She detested Anders and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Anders couldn't understand how she and Joseph could be related. Joseph told each of them to shut up about the other, and, much to his surprise, they complied.
That night when he and Joss met in the Fade, he saw that she had gone to extra lengths to recreate the meadow and stream near the family estate. If the trees were slightly too dark and the water in the stream a bit too blue, he wasn't going to complain.
"Nice job with Niall. Bet he thinks twice before calling you a red-haired anything."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied with uncharacteristic dignity.
"Right. I'm sure it's just a coincidence that I saw you having quite a discussion with Lucian Caravel yesterday? Or that you went from there to see Owain?"
"I'm sure it must be. But Niall does look adorable as a redhead, doesn't he?" she snickered.
"Yes, adorable," Joseph agreed dryly.
"Better than Anders, but if he makes you happy, I'm happy. Although I don't see how that blockhead could make anyone happy."
"Joss," Joseph warned quietly.
"Oh right, sorry. I meant to say: good on you, Joey."
He laughed, and she joined in. Together, they were undefeatable. No matter what the years had in store for them, as long as they were there, he knew they'd survive anything. She was his anchor and he knew, in that moment of shared laughter, that he was her anchor, as well.
He wouldn't have it any other way.
