A/N: This was not supposed to be about Brin but the word prompt said otherwise. Joss & Joseph have just turned 17. This is the first part of their time together. The other part of their story will be in the next chapter, entitled: Lies.
Thank you, Lisa, for the beta and suggestions. You are a treasure.
Grace
He was the talk of the Tower when he arrived. For days Joss heard nothing but the lovelorn sighs and effusive praise for a mage that she had, thus far, been lucky enough to avoid. Anyone who garnered that much attention was either a conceited arse or a charlatan and she didn't really care enough to find out which.
Irving had given him over to Senior Enchanter Torrin and had, apparently, decided that he was not to mingle with the other apprentices. The new mage, whose name escaped her more often than not, slept in Torrin's room and had yet to attend any classes. He was too good for the rest of them, apparently. An observation that did nothing to endear him to Joss.
Others had seen him, but she'd been busy with her potions studies. Lucian Caravel had finally taught her how to make poultices from hay and dirty socks and she was still practicing. And, to her acute disappointment, the hay made her nose run and her eyes itch, but she didn't let that dissuade her from practicing.
She was heartily tired of hearing about the mysterious Chasind mage who had been captured near Lothering and brought to the Tower. Everyone had an opinion and everyone insisted on sharing it. No amount of assurances that she didn't care stopped the outpouring of adoration. The last barbarian to garner such adulation was Andraste, a fact that Joss didn't mind sharing.
"I couldn't give a flying fig about him," Joss muttered, rolling her eyes as Petra and Merrisoo gushed like water through a ruptured levee.
"He is gorgeous. His eyes, Maker, his eyes are so…so…" Merrisoo breathed.
"Forget his eyes, have you seen his arse? It is all kinds of grab-worthy," Petra interjected.
"You two sound like Lady Froufrou in heat. Listen to yourselves," Joss said in disgust, thinking she'd just insulted the elegant grey cat that walked through the halls of the Tower like she owned the place.
"Wait until you meet him, Josslyn, then we'll see how quickly you change your tune," Merrisoo said in her best imitation of a gloating hag. Oh wait…she was a gloating hag. Joss smirked at her.
"I don't care if he is the second coming of Andraste in male form, he's just a mage. He casts his spells like anybody else. And how great can he be if he was caught by the templars? It's not like they're all that smart. No offense, Bran," she added over her shoulder.
"I'm sure you don't mean the templars assigned here," he replied with his usual quiet dignity.
"Never."
Anders looked up from his usual place, which was sprawled on his bed with a book. "She's just upset because all the attention has shifted from her to the new guy," he snickered.
"Bran, close your eyes," she said and then cast a bolt of lightning at Anders.
"Ow! Andraste's knicker-weasels, Joss, keep your spells to yourself," Anders sputtered, rubbing his arm.
"As soon as you keep your opinions to yourself," she shot back. "Anyway, I'm surprised you aren't cooing over Gorgeous Mage. Don't you prefer men in skirts?"
"No, I prefer anyone in skirts. In fact, the only one in the Tower I don't prefer is you. That must really rankle," he gloated spitefully. The pig. She'd as soon kiss old Sweeney than look at Anders, who had moved on from Joey without a second's hesitation.
She'd known the minute she'd met him that Anders was a feckless, selfish boy pretending to be a charming scamp, moving from one conquest to the other. As she had feared, that had held true with her brother, as well. Joseph had pursued Anders, not overtly, but quietly, and with a certain shyness that surprised Joss. Anders had finally taken up with Joey, but they'd been together for less than two weeks before Anders was off to hurt his next conquest. He told Joey that it was because he was afraid of getting serious and then losing the person, but Joss thought that was a load of hooey. Joey pretended it didn't bother him, but she saw the way he stared after Anders when he thought no one was watching.
"Makes me weep into my pillow every night. I'm surprised my sobs don't keep you awake. Oh, wait…Uldred is more appealing than you are," she retorted.
Anders glared at her, his sensibilities no doubt offended. "If you were the last person in the Tower and my only means of escape was sex with you, I'd lock myself in a cell."
Joss thought that was an impressive insult coming from him, but refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she smirked again, but only because she knew it irked him. "Speaking of escapes, isn't it about time you bungled another attempt? I mean the other two were so brilliantly executed. Going out with the nightly garbage? Seriously? You stank for weeks, you…you coxcomb."
They glared at each other for several minutes before their stare-off was interrupted by the raucous pealing of bells. "Saved by the bell," he chortled as she gathered up her spellbook and quill.
She hit him on his flat arse with another bolt of lightning. "Have a nice day," she chirped on her way out of the door.
After her potions class, where Lucian Caravel kept her late to discuss her failure to excel at all things potion related, Joss hurried to the library to meet with her mentor, Senior Enchanter Ines. Everyone knew Ines hated being a mentor, which was fine because Joss hated being mentored. They spent most of their time discussing the merits of fresh herbs as opposed to dried herbs, and other things equally boring, and made catty, but accurate, remarks about Wynne the Meddling Mother Hen. The mentoring was a sign that Joss would be taking her Harrowing soon and she was curiously ambivalent about becoming a harrowed mage.
On the one hand, it meant more privacy and privileges. On the other, it also meant being away from Joseph, who was not yet ready for his Harrowing. Joss pushed that unhappy thought away. It was not unusual for mages arriving in their early teens to be harrowed later than their tower raised counterparts, but it worried Joss that he was still nervous about it.
The Harrowing was the worst kept secret in the Tower. Most of the apprentices learned about it before they hit their early teens, but everyone pretended that it was a deep, dark secret ritual. Joss thought it was ridiculous to expect all mages to resist the kinds of temptations offered by most demons, especially desire demons, which had a real talent for felling any unwary male mages. Joss was convinced those males that succumbed had stopped thinking the minute the demon flashed her nipple clamps at them, but as they didn't survive the ordeal, she couldn't very well ask. She wasn't sure why the mages weren't taught better ways to resist the demons, ways to fight them. Instead, they were offered up as sacrifices. Or so it seemed to Joss.
"Just say no if a demon uses his wily, wily ways on you, Joey. You tell them no every time we go into the Fade and the Harrowing is no different than a Fade walk," Joss reassured one evening as they made their way from the dining hall to the dormitory, by way of the library.
"Just say no," he mimicked and she shot him a quick look to see if he was angry. He wasn't, just glum. "You make it sound easy, but it isn't that way for a lot of us, Joss."
She'd been told that so many times that she merely rolled her eyes. "I didn't say it was easy, but you do say no to the demons all the time. You are so much stronger than you think you are."
"So you say," he replied, his tone grimmer than Joss would have liked.
"Come on…race you to the library!" she said, hiking up her robe and breaking into a sprint, hoping to put a smile back on his face. Not that a seventeen-year old had any business running around the halls. She felt her hair tumble down as she raced along, to the accompaniment of hairpins hitting the floor.
Glancing back at Joey, who was shaking his head as he broke into a run, she laughed, remembering how much he'd missed his trousers when he'd first come to the Tower. Now he moved with the usual grace of the male mages, so accustomed to the robes that he would probably hate trousers.
"Look out!" Chipper cried, distracting Joss, who snapped her head in his direction to see his eyes the size of dinner plates and his gauntleted finger pointing in the direction she was heading.
Too late. She hit someone with enough momentum to knock them both to the ground, where she insisted on sprawling all over the boy beneath her. Boy? Hardly that, from the feel of it. She blinked, trying to catch her breath, which had gone walkabout without her permission.
Hands reached down and helped her to her feet where she stood panting, in search of her breath. "Watch where you're going!" she growled ungraciously as soon as she had enough air in her lungs to talk.
"I think I should watch where you are going," came the amused reply. Deep voice. Sonorous. And unfamiliar. Oh Maker's brass balls, it must be the barbarian.
Straightening, she glared at the very handsome young mage standing before her. He. Was. Gorgeous. And she hated him for it because her stomach and heart fluttered in a way they hadn't since Owain. She sat down abruptly as she realized the room was tilting rather alarmingly, but did not relinquish the scowl she aimed at the newcomer.
"You must be Josslyn Winifred Amell," the man continued, as if she hadn't been glaring up at him. Was he blind? Or stupid? Nobody was that good-looking without something being seriously wrong somewhere. A character flaw of some kind had to exist, she was sure of it. Maybe a nervous twitch, a stutter, a brain the size of a pea. Something else the size of a pea?
She refused to be smitten with a barbarian like most of the other Tower denizens. "Why must I be Josslyn Winifred Amell?" she challenged waspishly. Lovely first impression, Joss. Why not just bite him now and show him how rabid you really are? And how had he known her name, anyway? What arse was talking about her behind her back? To a complete stranger, for the Maker's sake. She'd eviscerate whoever it was.
"Because Owain described you perfectly."
Well, that took the edge right off her resolve, but she refused to cease glaring at him. "And who might you be?" she demanded as Joseph helped her up yet again.
Oh good, Joss. You sound just like Anders says you sound…like you own the shook her head and tried to ease the glare but it seemed content where it was. He was smiling at her, a bright and confident smile that made her insides shiver and shake.
He was tall, with broad shoulders, and he'd been firm when she'd landed on him. Very firm, unlike the mages, but not dissimilar to templars. She'd discovered firm bodies after a brief liaison she'd had with Ser Malcolm, who was now stationed in Denerim, thanks to a nosy mage who'd reported said liaison. Joss suspected Anders had ratted her out because everyone knew he hated all templars with the heat of a thousand fireballs.
The Chasind mage had very dark hair and bright blue eyes, made more vivid by his lightly tanned skin. His chin, his nose, his eyes and even his blasted ears, were in perfect proportion, and he stood before her, the very paragon of manly beauty.
"I am Brinmar of Clan Corinver. I have wanted to meet you since I arrived."
"Why, in the name of Andraste's arse, would you want to do that?"
The young man raised a brow at that and his smile widened. "Because I have heard of you, of course."
"Oh, of course," she replied and then shook her head. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Our shaman spoke of you before I left the clan in search of you."
She sat down abruptly, her legs having decided they no longer needed to support her. Joey was snickering softly as he reached down a hand to help back onto her feet because every mage knew the third time was the charm. She gave her legs a stern dressing down and tried not to wobble when Brinmar of Clan Coriander moved closer, his smile so warm it would melt butter. Warm enough that Joss felt a moment of panic because nobody had ever smiled at her quite that way before.
She took a deep breath and cleared her throat, searching for a reasoned response to his startling proclamation. Something polite and welcoming should do the trick, she thought, forcing herself to smile, although she was fairly certain it was more of a grimace than an actual smile.
"You came in search of me? Are you crazy? This is a tower where they lock away mages and lop their heads off if they try to leave. Mages try to break out of the tower; they don't try to break in!"
Very nicely done, Joss. Such a cordial welcoming. It's a wonder you aren't assigned as permanent official Tower greeter. She shook her head as Joey groaned.
"What my sister means is: welcome to the Circle of Magi of Ferelden. Why are you looking for her?" Joey asked, cocking his head to one side in amusement. The turncoat. She could tell by his stance that he was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle. And wasn't surprised at all. She turned her suspicious gaze on him but he offered her a sweet smile so she returned to glaring at Brinmar of Clan Capsicum.
A wayward thought flitted into her brain as she studied the hedge mage. She wondered what his light stubble would feel like against her skin, which made said skin burn with a blush that was probably less attractive than it was mottled. She thought sourly that he probably blushed with the grace of a young maiden and that made her want to box his ears.
"She is Rasui Balari, one who walks quietly in dreams. We were destined to meet, whether you believe this or not, Josslyn," he added, his voice as warm as his smile.
"Did I mention that you're crazy? If not, allow me to do so now. If I have…well… consider it a reiteration of the fact."
Joss turned to stomp away because that was clearly the mature thing to do. But a hand, firm and yet oddly gentle, touched her arm briefly. "Yes, to you I'm crazy, but I know why I'm here, and it is to meet you."
"Ha! The very last person to recognize crazy when they see it is the actual crazy person in question," she shot back triumphantly, pulling her arm away from his grasp and then regretting it the minute she had. Joey wasn't the only traitor in their midst. Her body was pretty busy betraying her as well.
Brinmar's smile wavered for a moment as his eyes slid to Joseph, who gave a minute shrug. And then he chuckled, a deep and rich sound that spiked through her and made her want to invite the sound again. What was wrong with her? If Anders could see her now he would howl with laughter. Not that she gave a tinker's damn about that jackanapes, but still, she was clearly not herself. She stalked away, without a backward glance at the handsome Chasind. It was a very difficult thing to manage as every muscle in her body screamed out for her to look over her shoulder at him.
"Well, that was…different," Joey murmured as they entered the library.
Different? Uncanny, maybe. Eerie, definitely. Bizarre even. But different? Much too mild a word for the encounter. She grinned at her brother. "Nothing like a bit of weird to liven up the evening. And just what did you have to do with that?"
"Me? Nothing!" he cried too quickly. She stared at him with narrowed eyes. He was lying, and not even all that well.
"Bollocks. You talked about me, didn't you? Told him about our Fade walking?"
"Josslyn Amell, you're paranoid," he responded, looking down at his open spellbook.
She didn't see Brinmar of Clan Korcari again until the morning after her Harrowing, ten days later. After a romp through the Fade, laughing at the demons as they tried to tempt her, she returned from the land of dreams and fell into a deep sleep. She woke feeling oddly cheerful and not at all sick, which made her puff out her chest in pride. Most apprentices who went through the Harrowing were sick for days. But then, most needed copious amounts of lyrium to enter the Fade and she did not. Poor slobs, she gloated.
"Congratulations on your successful Harrowing, Mage Josslyn," Brinmar said formally, bowing slightly at the waist, which made her feel ridiculously girlish and giddy.
"I suppose the Chasind don't have a test like that?" she asked, reaching for superiority and finding obnoxious instead. What was the matter with her tongue? It seemed intent on being much sharper than she wanted it to be. But he took it with a grace that made her feel slightly ashamed of herself and then angry at him because of it.
"We don't. If a mage is strong enough to withstand the temptation of the demons day-to-day, there seems little point in throwing them at the demons of the dream realm. But we foster mages, encourage them at an early age, teach them to resist demons. We teach them how to avoid templars and temptation," he ended quietly.
"Well they didn't do a good job of it with you since you're here now," she sniped and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Maker's pointed yellow teeth! Could she be a bigger bitch? She didn't think so.
Brinmar was laughing quietly, not in the least offended. "They captured me because I couldn't think of another way to meet you."
"Stop that. Stop saying things like that," she demanded, throwing in a very adult-like stomp of her foot while she was at it. "I already know that Joey, the traitor, talked to you. I don't know why, or why you'd want to know, but stop pretending you're some mystic or something."
He had the grace to look abashed and then a grin spread across his face like morning sunshine spreading across the fields. Her mouth responded with a smile of its own. Damnation!
"Well, I was trying to get an edge, you see. But you're right, I'm not mystical, our shaman has never heard of you, and I got caught because – well – never mind. You wouldn't be interested.
"So, can we start again? My friends call me Brin."
"Joss," she replied, sticking her hand out. He stared at it for a minute and then took it in his and squeezed it gently.
"I am known in our clan as a rascal, what we call an Ndale, which means trickster. Hmmm, that doesn't sound all that nice, does it? Anyway, I hope we can be friends, otherwise I'm without a cohort in crime."
He turned and walked away and this time, Joss allowed herself to watch. She was not disappointed, and when he turned back and grinned at her, she felt herself grinning in reply before checking her mouth for signs of drool. Maker, he was handsome. Maker, she was an idiot for thinking he'd be interested in her as anything more than a friend.
~~~oOo~~~
She was overjoyed with her new quarters. On one side of the stone wall was Kinnon, an intelligent and mordant friend. On the other side was Niall, already plotting devious methods of torture for the unharrowed and unsuspecting apprentices. The only thing that would have made it perfect was for Petra to be there as well, but she was rooming with Merrisoo the perfect mage, and gloriously goofy Godwin. Poor thing.
And she missed Joey. He snuck in most nights, as soon as Chipper came on duty, and she took to making a pallet for him on her floor each night before going to bed.
"Say, Joss, what do you make of Brin?" Joey asked a few nights after her Harrowing, his voice husky with sleep. She heard him yawn, and, before she could answer his question, she yawned as well.
"Brin? You mean Brinmar the Barmy?" she sniggered.
"He's a decent guy, Jo. You ought to be a little nicer to him. Although what he wants with you is a total mystery," he added frankly.
"Ouch. Thanks for that stab to the ego, Brother."
"I aim to please," he chuckled. "Seriously, he's a decent enough guy, just with some strange ideas."
To her utter disgust, she defended the Chasind. "No stranger than our ideas probably seem to him."
"Ah," was all her brother replied knowingly, and she tossed her pillow in his direction.
"Shut up and go to sleep."
It was their mutual regard for Joey that finally brought them together, and, for the next two months, the three of them tore up the Tower, playing pranks on anyone and everyone. Except the youngest apprentices. Joey said it was difficult enough to be torn away from their families, they didn't need to be harassed by their fellow mages. Brin and Joss agreed, but everyone else was fair game.
A few suspected they were responsible for the spate of tricks, but nobody turned them in. They were careful not to leave any hints about their identities. Although they were as thick as thieves, which should have been a big tip-off. In all likelihood, many probably did know who it was pulling the pranks but chose to keep silent. There was a certain code of behavior among the denizens of the Tower. Not ratting out your fellow denizen was at the top of the list.
They replaced the sugar with salt at the main table, and the First Enchanter and Old Wynne the Windbag's expressions were priceless. She apologized to Greagoir, who had nearly choked to death, his face beet-red and his eyes streaming. Lucian Caravel, who didn't care for sugar, and therefore didn't use it, had a smile on his face, although the smile looked a bit smug. Still, a win-win prank as far as she was concerned.
One week later, Joss turned the main assembly hall for the templars into an ice rink and then Joey and Brin went up to the bell-room and began to ring out the alarm signal. Three sharp clangs, followed by silence, followed by three more. The templars scrambled out of bed to assemble, and Joss, wedged into a small cubbyhole, found it nearly impossible to hold back her laughter as wild-eyed, flailing templars slipped and skidded on the ice. Chipper was the only one who seemed to be enjoying himself, as he balanced carefully, gliding around the room.
"Ser Carroll! Fall in!" Greagoir thundered.
An unfortunate choice of words, all things considered. Joss stuffed her fist into her mouth and then felt warm air on her neck as Brin and Joey joined her. Of course, they barely made it back to their rooms before the templars swept through the mage's quarters, trying to discover why the alarm bells had been rung. A glorious night, that.
Three weeks after that they hit the senior mage staff. Joseph and Brin made their way along each room, placing repulsion wards on the open doorways. It was Josslyn's turn to rouse the sleeping, and she couldn't wait to see Wynne the Sycophant and Irving the Worst Enchanter go flying teakettle over arse when they hit the repulsion spell.
"You should do it now," Brin whispered against her skin, making her forget momentarily what she was supposed to do. She gulped and then Joseph nudged her. "Now," he hissed.
She screamed. And not just once, but three times, as loud and as shrill as possible. The effect was immediate. They scampered to hide behind the heavy curtains that acted as a partition between the bedrooms and the common room, peeking out to see most of the senior staff go flying backwards, many of them cursing very colorfully as they went.
"Josslyn Amell! I know this is your work!" Wynne shouted, shaking her fist from her position on the floor, nightdress hiked up and hair tumbling down. Joss buried her face in the crook of Brin's neck to try and stifle her laughter.
Another win for the Terrors of the Tower, as their fellow mages began to refer to them. They grinned like idiots, and, once safely back in Josslyn's room, they congratulated each other, jubilant in their success. Maker, she couldn't remember when she'd had such fun.
They waited until things had settled down again, when everyone became complaisant, before striking again. Joss distilled an oil of skunk cabbage, mixed with just enough attar of rose to mask the smell. Until it was burned, then it was all skunk and no rose. It took her a week to perfect the oil, a week of slipping into the potions laboratory late at night. It was worth it when Lay Sister Evita lit the incense burner while the devoted knelt before the altar. The Terrors watched as first one, and then another of the faithful clapped a hand over their nose and fled the chapel. Well, all except Keili, who wailed that it was further evidence that mages were cursed.
It was a time Joss knew would never come again, and she savored each moment of it as a rare and unexpected gift. She had never seen Joey laugh so much or seem so happy. He finally stopped looking at Anders with longing. He was, in every way, the brother she had always known and loved. And she was happier than she'd been since Owain's rite.
~~~oOo~~~
Joss paced her small cubicle of a room, wondering how long Joey would take with his Harrowing. She should be trying to find him in the Fade, and help him, but he had made her swear she wouldn't and, like a dolt, she'd agreed. Now the minutes became hours as she covered the ground with short, jerky steps, wringing her hands like a little old lady.
"Joss?"
"Brin, what are you doing here?" Joss asked indignantly, throwing herself on her bed and pulling the covers up to her chin, wishing fervently she had something besides an old, washed-out flannel nightdress on. As in: anything else.
"I just came to keep you company," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Joseph said you'd be as nervous as a cat in a mabari pen. He wasn't kidding."
Then, without warning, Brin leaned in close and kissed her for the first time. She should have shoved him out of her room, but instead she returned the kiss with fervor. She wasn't about to ask him why, especially when he could have just about anyone else in the tower. She wasn't special in any way, not really. She didn't have Petra's sweet smile, or Reva's dancing curls, or even Merrisoo's perfection. She was too tall, too awkward and her hair was never neat. He was graceful in every way and she was…utterly not graceful in any way.
But Maker, she didn't care at that moment because his lips were moving against hers with the grace of a dancer. She was sorry when he pulled away and gave her a reluctant smile. "I probably should have asked if I could do that."
"Better to ask forgiveness than permission, according to Lucian Caravel. I'm inclined to agree with him, much to my surprise."
Brin laughed, his eyes dancing. "Good to know," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. And then he was gone, leaving a small rodent scurrying around her bed in his place. Well that was…unexpected.
It was Greagoir's arrival that caused Brin to shape-shift, a talent she didn't know he possessed. Greagoir had come to her room to let her know that Joseph had passed his Harrowing, and he had assigned him to the same rooms as Brin.
"You seem to be a good influence on our Chasind mage. But be warned, Joss. He has no formal training and might be dangerous. If you see the use of any forbidden magic, you are duty-bound to report it."
Glancing down at the mouse scampering around her blankets, she bit her lower lip. "Of course, ser." And she agreed that Brin might be dangerous. Her heart was already in jeopardy.
As soon as Greagoir left, Brin shifted again, emerging with a bright grin. "So, I should be careful around you, eh? You might be tempted to turn me in."
She gave him a conspiratorial smile. "Not if you teach me how to do that."
"That's one that I can't teach you, but I can teach you a few other tricks. How do you feel about toads?"