J is for Jowan
Arren swung his sword, taking out the undead on the right, trusting Alistair to deal with the one approaching from the left. The narrow confines of the corridor didn't give them much room to manoeuvre in, but in pretty short order they'd dispatched them and were able to resume progress down the corridor, toward the cell the undead had been showing such interest in before the arrival of Arren and his group.
Something stirred in the darkness of the cell; a man, skin pale as milk where it wasn't darkened by bruises, his black hair hanging lank and greasy around his face, pale grey eyes looking large and frightened, his face gaunt, half-starved looking. A wave of foul odour accompanied him as he moved toward the bars; a fetid combination of moldering straw, rotting food, dust, rodent feces, unwashed body, and the sharp tang of old urine. He stared at them for a long moment, as if having difficulty believing his eyes, his hands clenching nervously in the torn and soiled fabric of what had once been a fine robe.
"You don't look like the arlessa's guards. Are you from outside the castle?" the man asked hesitantly, voice thin and raspy.
Arren studied the man as he questioned him. The man – a mage named Jowan – was timid as a wild thing, frightened of everything, and seemed caught in the grip of a deep despair. Unsurprising, given that he was imprisoned for having poisoned the Arl – a crime he readily admitted to – and for summoning a demon that had killed most of the people within the castle walls, which he vehemently denied. He'd been tortured by the Arl's wife, Isolde, in an attempt to force him to admit to controlling it and recalling it. He wept brokenly as he spoke of how she'd not believed him, only abandoning the torture when the number of the undead within the castle made it too dangerous for her to come down to the dungeon even in daylight.
"I wish I could go back and fix it. I just want to make everything right again," Jowan said, his head dropping into his hands.
"I thought you said you didn't start this?" Alistair asked, suspiciously.
"But I had a hand in it, didn't I? I poisoned the arl, and that's when all this started. So many people died here, I can only imagine," the mage said.
"But this doesn't explain everything that's happened," Arren pointed out.
In the end, his questioning of the mage done, he left Jowan there in the cell; he was at least safe from the undead there, and they left him some food and water before continuing deeper into the castle.
He had reason to be thankful for sparing the mage's life later; Jowan and his blood magic proved to be their only chance to get rid of the demon short of killing the Arl's young son, Connor. If they'd had enough time, they might have been able to travel to the Circle of Magi, and bring back enough mages and lyrium to make the attempt without the use of blood magic. But considering the state the tower had been in when they'd left it, and how many days it would take to travel back there again, and return...
No. The danger was too immediate. Their choices boiled down to killing the child to prevent the demon that controlled him from causing any further deaths, or allowing Jowan to perform a blood magic ritual so that someone could enter the Fade and attempt to destroy the demon there. Arlessa Isolde, desperate to save her son, freely offered her own life to power the ritual; while he did not like the choice, in the end Arren granted her request; he only hoped they did not end with both mother and child dead.
Wynne did not approve of the choice, or the ritual, but when it came to choosing between her or Morrigan to enter the Fade and fight the demon for Connor's life, Wynne made it clear that she was claiming the task. Remembering her defence of the apprentice mages at the Circle tower, he acquiesced.
The ritual worked.
"There is still the matter of Jowan. He performed the ritual, and did not deceive us. In a way, he saved Connor's life even though he killed Isolde. I am unsure what to make of this," Teagan said tiredly.
Arren frowned thoughtfully, nodding agreement. He thought again of how frightened the mage was, and the surprising strength of will he'd shown in both proposing and carrying out the blood magic ritual to free Connor. He remembered the mage's wish to make everything right again – a desire he could easily identify with, thinking of his lost friend Tamlen.
"I would like him released," he said abruptly, surprising even himself with the request.
"Released? This mage is a maleficar. Even if I ignore his crimes, I cannot simply unleash him on the land!" Teagan exclaimed, looking horrified.
"Released to me, Bann Teagan," Arren hastily clarified. "I promise that I have no plans to let him run free."
"Very well, do whatever you want with him," Teagan agreed, frowning at the elf. "Considering all you have done to aid myself and my family, I can hardly refuse you."
Alistair protested, of course – Arren just smiled, and assigned the templar to look after the mage. He just hoped he would not come to regret the sudden impulse that had made him ask for mercy for Jowan.
Arren stood by in the harrowing chamber at Kinloch Hold some weeks later, filled with pride, not regret. He watched quietly as Jowan walked toward the font full of glimmering lyrium-infused liquid. Alistair stood nearby, and as Jowan walked forward, he drew his sword, setting the tip down against the floor with a faint metallic tink, his eyes glued to the back of the diminutive mage. If Jowan failed his harrowing, it would be Alistair's task to slay the man; a task he had promised the mage no other would perform.
Jowan was changed in many ways from the starved, frightened man they'd rescued from the Redcliffe dungeons. Not just in the obvious ways, such as how much healthier he looked, having put back on weight, his skin tanned and body fit from days spent walking in sunlight rather then huddled in the darkness of a dungeon. The change was also visible in his confident stride, in his being here, in Kinloch Hold, going through the harrowing he needed to become a full member of the Circle of Magi. But the greatest change of all showed in the trust he had for Alistair; trust, and more.
Jowan lifted a double handful of the glowing blue liquid, then paused, looking back over his shoulder to meet Alistair's eyes. "I love you," he said, clearly, happily, then turned away again, and drank.