"They'll take you away next! You're a brat, so mamma will get rid of you too!" A boy said tauntingly with a cruel smile and a glimmer of mischief in his bright blue eyes, dangling a well-loved cloth doll over his head. He was perhaps ten, very clean, and was wearing the sort of outfit that the nobility liked to dress their children in.
A little girl was crying, both because of the teasing and because she wanted her doll back. "Mamma wouldn't!" She cried, jumping desperately for the doll, her brother laughing as he dangled it just out of reach. "Give her back!"
"Bratty Sola's gonna get taken away!" His voice was sing-song now and he put his hand on her head, shoving her away.
She cried harder. "Shut up! No I'm not!" Her voice was teetering on the edge of a wail.
"Momma's gonna give you to the men in armor an' they'll take you away just like brother!"
"Shut up!" She screamed, finally attracting the attention of the nursemaid, the woman bustling in and attempting to separate the two siblings.
The boy continued to taunt, the maid tried to calm her and she got more and more flustered. Her throat closed off with frustrated tears and her face grew hot. She just wanted her doll back! Something inside of her snapped and she screamed again. "SHUT UP!"
Her brother tried to laugh, but no sound came out. He looked shocked when he realized that he couldn't speak, the maid now staring at her with wide eyed terror. She stood to flee and tell the mistress that her daughter had showed mage-sign but didn't get very far before the boy got angry, going red in the face as he silently yelled at his sister, and then there was fire in the nursery.
It spread quickly, the magical flames leaping from a spot on the rug to a chair, caught on the curtains and then the whole room started filling with smoke. The boy, terrified by what he'd done was frozen to the spot and the little girl wailed as the maid grabbed her roughly, taking the boy by the hand and ran out of the room before the fire could claim the three of them.
An older girl with the same red-brown hair as the blue eyed boy came running into the hall, took one look at the smoke pouring out of the nursery and immediately gathered her brother up into her arms, running with the maid to the main hall and alerted the others there of the impending tragedy. A man with a neat beard and recessing hairline, grey streaking the dusky blonde in both, was immediately up in arms when he heard, the woman at his side tearing up and breaking down on the borderline of hysteria when the nursemaid explained what had happened in short clipped tones.
The woman started sobbing, crying; "Not another! Not another!" over and over again as the older girl tried to comfort both her and the now wailing boy.
Clutching her doll the little girl watched as house servants drew water and ran to quench the flames. Her father barked orders for a time, then disappeared in the chaos and she was hurried out of the house.
Some time later, scary men in armor came and took her and her brother away. She begged to not go, promised that she would never be a brat again if they let her stay and wailed for her nanny and mother. Her brother was quieter, given to silent sobbing and the longer the Templars ignored them, the closer the siblings got until they were clinging to each other quietly save for the girl's crying and boy's sniffing.
Behind them, the fire consumed their mansion.
The next days were spent in a mild state of constant terror. Scary armored people handled them roughly, and what seemed like days were spent in darkness with only her brother to cling to. The confinement was punctuated occasionally by more people in armor, then one day they took her and her brother, separated them from each other, and she never saw him again.
The tossing boat sickened her. She was plagued by homesickness too. She wanted her mamma, she wanted her nanny, she wanted her doll. But the armored people said she couldn't have them. She cried, and they ignored her.
Then she was on solid ground, looking up at a tall tower that seemed to touch the sky and pierce the sun. Inside it was cold, the glares of the men as she passed colder, but she didn't cry. She was tired of crying. Tired of moving. Tired of not knowing what was going on.
Someone explained to her that she was a mage, that this was her home, that the others here were her family now. Someone else told her she was cursed, that her family hated her, and that she should hate herself too. She didn't like either of them.
That day she didn't talk to any of the other kids who all stared at her. Some tried to talk to her, but she ignored them and continued crying. That night she dreamed of home.
Time was muddled. Time didn't matter in their prison. They were never getting out, so why care? Faces aged. The old became older, the young grew up and she too changed. Passing time was like a tapestry of emotion, color and feeling. People wove in and out of her life, events were marked by the dull grey of the normal, a spark of yellow for joy, a splash of blue in sadness, and any number of others colors that appeared overlaid on the feeling of the moment, the whimsy of the mind.
Among the shifting blur one face kept reappearing; a dark haired boy with an absent smile and a longing face. He wasn't her brother, but he was close enough. They laughed and hurt together, got in trouble too, and that hurt in a different kind of way. Then they were grown up, and childish things were set aside and serious things interrupted the unbroken grey. She reached out to that familiar thread, and suddenly the whirl of time ceased and they stood, facing one another, blinking in the light that shown down from a window high above where they stood.
He blinked. "Sola?"
Her eyes watered to hear the familiar voice again. "You're dead."
Stricken, he recoiled sharply then peered at her harder. "If I am, then you must be too."
The tears stopped prematurely, briefly overridden by confusion. "What? No, I'm alive. I've been traveling for ages, always moving since that day…" She felt older. She looked older, and even when she looked down at herself the robes she was wearing changed from apprentice purple to mage blue, briefly a Templar's cloak covered her, but that was replaced with the tunic she had stolen from a dead man, then finally settled on what she wore now; a simple brown and green cotton dress that fell just past her knees with a sash of burgundy around her waist and a thin leather half corset. She knew then that this wasn't just a dream, that this was in fact the Fade, and that she couldn't simply watch the things around her anymore with idle curiosity. It was time to be wary.
He changed too, the helpless boyishness that she'd come to grow used to slowly fading to be replaced with a grim weariness. He was tired. He looked tired. The need for rest was evident in the darkness under his eyes, the heavy almost beard-like stubble on his chin, and the gauntness of his face and the thinness of his body. He looked on the verge of sickness, pale and skinny and needing rest, yet even here sleeping she knew that he would find no peace. The heavy dark longing of the others lurking just out of sight made that clear. Though they stood in a representation of the Circle's second floor together, brought by similar dreams to a common place, they were not safe. There were no Templars here to banish the demons.
"The Wardens said that they told the Arl to execute you." Solona said quietly, and watched as the face of her beloved friend became even more grim. "I must be more tired than I thought, or Leona is using her magic to influence my dreams. If you hope to lull me into false security with this ruse, then it's no use. I've seen better illusions."
"What are you talking about?" He asked, looking surprised and a tad on the annoyed side. "If anyone's the illusion here, you are. I had hoped, prayed! that you might still be alive after we separated, but all I heard was a Templar crowing that they'd taken your phylactery out and that you would get no rights before they executed you."
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "My phylactery was taken, and it was destroyed. What sort of demon are you that you know this? One of Mouse's enclave?"
Again, he was confused. "Who's Mouse? It's Jowan! You know, the kid who could never do anything right? The mage that was always standing in your shadow and following your lead?" Bitterness crept into his voice, plain and clear.
She narrowed her eyes. The illusion wasn't disappearing, even though she knew very well that he had to be dead. A momentary thrill of panic coursed through her body. Could it be that she had accidentally stumbled into the realm of a demon even more powerful than Mouse? One whose will was so strong that even when she was thoroughly convinced that this was all just an illusion that the images still held strong? The thought terrified her more than she could say. "If you are Jowan, then tell me the name of my last lover." She could picture the man clearly in her mind, his face, his name, the way he carried his armor, the pride he had in the Templar Order…
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Maen, right? The mage that brewed that moonshine once."
"Wrong." But it was the last one that the real Jowan would know of. Elation filled her. No demon worth their essence would miss the strong mental image she had projected. But the look on his face, confused and a little irritated was entirely too real. She had never been so happy that he was wrong in her life. "Jowan…" She closed the distance between them in a few running steps, nearly crashing bodily into him and threw her arms around him in a tight hug. Jowan hesitated to return the embrace, then slipped his arms behind her back and held her for a few moments.
When she let go and stepped back, Solona was crying, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes with the palm of her hand. "I can't believe you're still alive… Oh Jowan, if I knew…"
His face softened slightly, his expression registering a deep pain at her words. "After what you said when we went our separate ways, I thought for sure that if you ever saw me again you'd want to kill me yourself. But… well, the Templars are about to beat you to it."
Guilt overwhelmed her, the spite-filled accusations she had lobbied at her long-time childhood friend echoing in her ears, whispering through the halls of the Fade version of the Circle. Traitor. Liar. Maleficar. "Jowan, I'm so sorry about that… I can't even begin to apologize… but what do you mean? Are you in danger? Where are you?"
He smiled ruefully at her line of questioning. "The Redcliffe castle dungeons."
Her eyes widened. "I'm a day outside Redcliffe. We'll be there tomorrow, you just have to stall them a little longer-"
"No!" The denial was so forceful that Solona very nearly stumbled backwards over her own feet, blinking in confusion. Jowan took a deep breath, clenching his hands. "No, don't come. Stay far away from here. The Arl's boy, he's mage-born. The Templars got here two days ago after dealing with the… problems in the Circle. They're here to guard him until things can be settled and have been setting any number of anti-demon and mage wards around the castle. The boy tore the Veil, so they're being extra careful, and they know I'm down here but I'm not a priority… well, I wasn't, but I heard them talking and I think that one of the Clerics from the village are coming first thing at dawn to attend my… execution." He gulped visibly.
She couldn't help the gasp that escaped her. It was cruel. She'd thought him dead this whole time, the guilt that knowing their parting words had been ones of anger, her rage directed at him over blood magic, of all things. And now she knew that he wasn't dead, but he would be soon. Time was an odd thing here in the Fade, but even mages woke up eventually, and it would be dawn soon. He was being taken away again. "Jowan, no, I can't just let you die. I'll… I'll figure something out. I'll come and get you, and it'll be fine-"
He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders, silencing her imploring streak. "It's fine, Sola." He mumbled, squeezing her shoulders. "I… did something terrible. I've betrayed everyone that's ever trusted me and… well, I don't want to see you die too Sola. You can't save me. Not this time." He looked over his shoulder at something invisible, a frown on his face. "I think that they're coming now. Promise me you'll stay safe Sola. However you've managed it, keep away from the Templars. Be free, just like we talked about."
Solona sniffed, wiping at her tears, which were falling in earnest now and wrapped her arms around his chest, squeezing him. This time, there was no hesitation on Jowan's part. "I wish you could be free with me, Jowan." He squeezed her in response, and something gave way in his Fade form, the solidness that made up his body rapidly deteriorating. She squeezed her eyes shut, clinging to him as he disappeared. "I'm so sorry." Her voice was muffled against his chest. "I love you Jowan, no matter what else I say."
She felt a fleeting brush of lips on the top of her head and felt more than saw his smile, then he was gone and she was left with her arms encircled around nothing. A second passed, then another, then she fell to her knees and openly wept, furious that it had come to this and that there was nothing she could do to stop it.
The demons, sensing her weakness came forward but didn't get very far as Fortitude bobbed in through a nearby window and settled on Solona's shoulder, eying the dark ones with his beady gaze until the retreated. "Why do you cry?" He asked once the Circle's floor was free of the demons that had haunted the shadows a moment ago, cowed by his presence.
"Because I just lost a dear friend." She replied through her tears, and in a flare of anger slapped the cold stone of the floor with her palm, flames flaring out from between her fingers as magic leaked out of her in a brief flash. She trembled with the turbulence of her emotions and magic, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. "I've lost him a second time. But there's no coming back from this."
This time it was permanent.
D'awe, sad chapter is sad. Also, written in italics! Yay for funtimes in the Fade! So, I've managed to tell some of Solona's history with the Circle and take care of the Jowan element all in one swoop. How'd you like them apples? A bit on the short side this time, I know, but kinda in a time crunch with university starting back up again and what-not. Ah well. More action and funtimes next chapter.
A little explanation: I did some digging around with the DA2 timeline, and found several inconsistencies (surprise, right?) and I have come to the conclusion that depending on how you choose to interpret things, the Mage Origin Warden can be anywhere between the ages of 33 and 9. Also, in a conversation line with I think Bethany, she mentions that Leandra saw them take away "so many" of Revka's children, indicating that there wasn't just the one mage-child born to her after the first one, but a number of them. I wanted to explore this a little bit. Since mages don't start showing their powers until between the ages of 5 and 13-ish, it would be entirely possible for Revka to have two or three children already before the first mage-born showed their powers. In this case, her first son was taken away first, which lead to the teasing bit in the beginning. I also found it interesting (and is probably just short-sighted of the Bioware makers) that no Amell's other than Gamlen are left in Kirkwall that ever came to bother you. So, my theory is that their house burned down and either they died or moved far far away.