Everyone is okay but the party is trying to navigate ✨big feelings ✨ and keep each other safe.
You know what they say about ships-they can sink. But some will sail!
(Maeve and Jowan are going to end up together eventually but it’s ✨slow burn✨ bc we’re twenty ish chapters in and they have not officially begun to address their feelz)
He’d done it. He’d finally lost track of the days and nights since the Wardens had left Redcliffe to find the Urn of Sacred Ashes. At least he was allowed food, water and no one had dared lay another hand on him since the Warden’s angry confrontation with the Arlessa, whose men had done as they were told, Jowan was just a prisoner after all. A criminal and his life was expendable in her eyes. In the eyes of her soldiers he was probably worse. A murderer, a bloodthirsty monster. A maleficar.
Every mage knows that’s a terrifying word. But before he was a mage, Jowan was a man. A young man who was just trying to survive in a world that seemed determined to destroy him.
Before he was a man he was just a silly young boy, and he was passing notes back and forth with his peers in a Senior Enchanter’s long boring lectures. He was never normal no matter how much he wanted to be. No matter how hard he tried, he was not normal. Circle mages didn’t get to act like or be treated like people. That was just how life went.
But earlier still, he was just a child, born of a farmer’s wife in a poor village. No one expected him to see his first summer, or his second. But after five year old Jowan set his mother’s apron aflame, there was no going back. That village, that house? No place for a child who could cast spells. Mother stopped treating him like a person then and there, and she was only the first to lay a hand on him in malice.
His father dropped him off at the village chantry a few days later after he’d begged and cried and pleaded to be forgiven. He really was sorry.
So sorry. “So, so sorry.”
“Great, a blood mage who talks in his sleep.”
“Oi, watch it, he’ll hear you and put a curse on you!”
Jowan startled awake to the torch light and flinched at the voices. The Arlessa’s guards. They’d probably come to give him his daily meal. But until today those who’d delivered his food had been silent even if he tried to speak to them. Something had changed.
He rose from his position crumpled over on his side, and the rattling of the chains binding his wrists to the wall of his cell a harsh reminder not to move too fast or too far.
He was on his knees when the guards opened his cell door, and he was panicking. They had only slid food through the bars before, why were they coming in? Jowan blinked back terrified tears and the hair on the back of his neck stood up.
“Don’t come any closer.” He warned.
“It’s time, maleficar.” One of them reached into his pack and Jowan stood up slowly.
None of them had ever spoken to him. Not since the wardens had left.
Jowan felt panic rising.
“Get back. I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Please, leave.”
“The Arl wants to sentence you himself. You’d best keep those hands where we can see-“
“No!” Jowan lurched forward towards the guards and the closer one shirked back. The other drew his short sword and swung it, meaning to display its power to Jowan and subdue his momentum, but the blade slipped from a sweaty palm and clattered to the ground, slicing into Jowan’s midsection on its way down.
When the mage cried out, the guards both backed off. Jowan clutched the wound as best he could but fell to the ground in the process. The first soldier who’d entered the cell kicked the sword away and turned away from the injured mage.
“You idiot. The Warden will have your head! Both our heads! Go get help! We weren’t supposed to hurt him! Damn it.”
Jowan groaned and tried to sit up, “Tell Maeve I couldn’t go down without a fight.”
Now his clothes were soaked with fresh bloodstains, and every time he tried to apply pressure to the wound he yelled out in pain.
In the castle’s main hall Arl Eamon stood with the Warden, her party and the rest of his family.
“Maker, I wonder what’s taking them so long. Hopefully he’s not giving them trouble.” Bann Teagan mused, sparing a glance in Maeve’s direction.
“He wouldn’t. Jowan is not the monster everyone paints him to be. He’s gentle, I hope in time more people will accept him.”
“You’re seriously going to conscript him then? After everything he’s put all of us through?” Isolde asked bitterly.
“I will not abandon my Mage.” Maeve replied steadfastly.
That was when a guardsman came sprinting into the great hall, out of breath by the time he reached those gathered.
“I need help. The blood mage is-“
“I knew he’d try to escape.” Isolde sounded angry but also disgusted.
“With all due respect my lady this is not the time for told-you-so’s! How far do we think he got?!” Alistair drew his long sword.
Now Maeve was panicking. “No. This isn’t happening! Not again!” She cried.
“We have him. He’s not left his cell!” The guard said as he caught his breath.
“Oh! Then go get him, you fool! No reason to arise fear and terror, these people have seen enough of that this week alone!” Morrigan sounded disgruntled.
“No, he’s hurt. Like really hurt, I’m sor-“
“What. Did. You. Do?!” Maeve had the soldier by the collar of his tunic within seconds.
“I told you. I told you! Not to harm a single hair on Jowan’s head! I begged you to keep him safe.”
She wasn’t shouting but it was obvious she was very angry.
“This was an accident I swear. He is alive though. Please follow me!” The guard pleaded.
“Alistair, go back to camp and get Wynne. We need healing magic and whatever you do- don’t let her know who she’s going to help. Just tell her the matter is urgent.”
Alistair hesitated and for a second it looked as though he was tempted to argue, before he nodded and darted for the door.
In Jowan’s cell, the guardsman that remained, the elder of the two, paced back and forth in the small space.
“You think I’m bleeding out?” Jowan asked weakly. The guard looked stunned and horrified by the words, nonchalant and distant as they were.
“Yeah, I’d imagine so.” The older man said.
“You’re a mage, can’t you heal yourself?”
“Ah, I could once, but not now. Do you kn-do you know how much strength it would take to heal a wound this deep? Even for a tr-trained healer?”
“Shite. If you die, your Warden will be so angry.”
The guard sounded genuinely fearful now. The room shifted and Jowan whimpered.
“M-my warden?”
“She pleaded for your life. All for naught.” The soldier sounded sad, and still horrified.
“You said it was t-time! The Arl was going to-“
“There were rumors that he could get into trouble for imprisoning you without telling the Chantry. But Grey Wardens can take anyone. Even maleficarum.”
“Wh-why?”
He meant to ask more, but was interrupted by approaching torchlight.
Bann Teagan and the guardsman who had wounded Jowan were within earshot now, as was Maeve.
“Right through here, my Lady.”
“Don’t call me that. Ever. I hate being called a Lady. Ladies are allowed to fall in love, mages aren’t.”
“Maeve? Where is she?”
Jowan asked softly between labored breaths and pained whimpers.
She was in the cell in an instant, crouched down next to him.
“Jowan, this wasn’t supposed to happen! You were supposed to be safe!”
She grabbed at the chains on his hands, inwardly cursing. They had never stopped treating him as a dangerous creature rather than a person with needs and feelings.
“Please someone get these off him.Now!” She requested sharply.
The manacles were runed and she could feel the pull on her own mana so oppressively it hurt to breathe.
He lifted a hand towards hers and winced and cried out once more as he realized she could feel the runes he’d gotten used to feeling weeks ago.
“Jowan-Jowan, listen to me. We’re going to get you out of here and then we can tend to your wounds. You can’t give up now, I haven’t given up on you, so I need you to trust me.”
“Maeve, I’m so sorry. I do trust you, but you need to let it be. I am not going to make it out of this cell let alone this castle.”
He tried not to stumble over his words but it was getting increasingly difficult to think straight.
“No, Jowan, please, I know it hurts, but you have to hang on. Please. You are so close. So close to having a chance at happiness. We’re getting out, you and I are going to save this country and bring down the blight-and we can’t do a damned thing if you die on me now! Come on, stay with me.”
The chains were off and Teagan helped one of the guards grab what was left of an old wooden door-a makeshift stretcher.
“Are we sure you want to move him?” The elder guard asked.
“I can’t cast down here, the runes are too close! Without a Templar no mage can dispel them. We don’t have a choice.”
She said firmly.
Getting him on the stretcher wasn’t easy but at least he was awake-barely, but still awake, by the time they started to carry him.
“To the main hall? Amell?” Teagan asked.
“Outside. Please, just let me see the sky.”
Jowan sounded more far away than ever.
“The tunnel. Let’s move quickly.”
She answered, with little hesitation due to her heartbreak. She knew that he thought he was going to die.
She took Jowan by the hand and motioned for the two guards to get moving.
“Morrigan, when we get out there we’re going to try to close this wound. Get ready, it’s a big one.”
“I might be able to buy him some time, my dear Amell, but I am no spirit healer.” The Witch looked paler than usual and more troubled than she’d ever admit.
Perhaps she wasn’t as cold hearted as everyone thought.
“Time might be all we need, now. More time.” Maeve nodded, choking back a sob that threatened to escape her.
Maker, all the time in the world isn’t enough.
“Maeve, look at the stars!” Jowan said as they finally reached the outside of the windmill.
He sounded joyful and were it not for the gravity of the situation she would have been delighted, too.
Morrigan was already setting to work, casting healing wards and trying every spell she knew only to slow the bleeding that was likely only the most serious of his injuries.
“Alindra and her Soldier are visible tonight.” He said, lowering his voice. “I didn’t want us to end up like them.”
“I beg your pardon?” Maeve forced a pained smile. “I’m right here. There’s no galaxy between us. Nobody keeping us apart. Not anymore.”
She took his hand, and he squeezed hers.
“Maeve, there might not be a galaxy between us but I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I’m scared.”
“Don’t be. I’ve got you. I told you I am right here.” She cradled him as close to her as she could without jostling him too much and caressed his hair. There was so much blood and even though the Witch of the Wilds was trying her best, it wasn’t long before Amell had to take over, as Morrigan was near passing out.
Maeve poured all her mana into the spell and despite her exhaustion by the time she was out of mana, Jowan was only a little less pale. He still couldn’t move much with out seeing stars or screaming out in pain.
“Maeve, my sweetest most beautiful Warden-you have to stop.” As only a little color returned to Jowan’s face almost all of it left Maeve’s.
“You need to let me go. I’m afraid but I will be as-as brave as I can. But you have to let go. Ferelden needs a hero, now. And its people won’t survive if you give your life for mine.”
Jowan said shakily.
“I don’t want to be a hero, Jowan. I want you. Ferelden is a brighter place with you in it.”
She cried. She was weeping in earnest now.
“You are too good to me. I love you, but we’re more akin to Alindra and her Soldier than I thought.” He whimpered. One of his wounds was starting to bleed again.
“Oh-Jowan!”
She was applying pressure with her cowl which she’d removed in the tunnel earlier, desperate to hold onto what she knew she had as good as lost.
“Maeve, please just hold me. There’s no time. No amount of healing will fix this. We’re outside-freedom in a world that’s full of people who want to take it away. Thank you, you’ve been so good to me, always.”
As he spoke his face grew pale again.
He was cradled in her arms when he took his last breaths, and Maeve let out a devastated cry as she held him.
Moments passed, they turned to an hour, Alistair, Wynne and Leliana finally arrived. Too late. Wynne was the first to approach her.
“Sweetheart, he is gone. I’m so sorry. I know what you were trying to do, and how much you loved him. He knew it, too. We all knew.”
The Senior Enchanter knelt next to her.
“He wanted to see the sky. I couldn’t deny him that. But I really thought I could save him! He was so close to being free-it isn’t fair!”
“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. It doesn’t look like there was much I could have done for him, that you didn’t already try. He lost a lot of blood.”
“Maker, it’s all my fault. I should have insisted I be the one to tell him-I never should have let anyone else-“
“Maeve, sweetheart, you didn’t know! Alistair told me. This was not your fault. You did everything you could for him, and you cannot blame yourself. Do you think Jowan would believe this was your fault? He wouldn’t blame you.”
“No he, thanked me. I tried so hard. He was so brave. He knew he was going to die. He told me I have to go and be a hero now.”
“He was wise. You will be a savior for Ferelden and the Wardens. But first you must make peace with what you have lost.”
“I don’t want to move on. I’ll never forget him. If they want a hero, they’ll get one, but it’ll only be for him.”
She sounded almost angry.
“Maeve, I know you knew him better than anyone, was there a particular way he wanted to be put to rest? Do you know?” Bann Teagan asked.
“Sweet Maker, he was barely twenty one! None of us discuss such things in the Tower. Not that we were afforded the luxury of choosing such things.” Maeve cried.
“Very well, understood. And my apologies, Grey Warden. This is devastating for you, I just wanted to ask.”
“A Pyre.” She said softly. “Ashes we were and ashes we become.”
She gently laid Jowan’s head down and smoothed his hair as best she could, gazing down upon his face and carefully closing his eyes.
“Leliana, can you pray with me? I never pray to the Maker anymore, but I think I have some words for Him.”
“Of course, ma Cherie. The Maker understands, you know. No one likes to remember that, but Jowan went to the Maker’s side, and will know His mercy.”
“Thank you. I-“
Maeve faltered a little and Wynne sat with her and rubbed her back as they prayed over Jowan’s body.
“One final request, Teagan.” Maeve asked after a few agonizingly quiet moments.
“Your men will not light the pyre. I will do it, and he will be put to rest with a staff in his hands. He thought I was the mage he could never be, but that wasn’t true. He went to the Maker’s side trying to be brave for my sake.”
“Twas noble of him indeed. There are worse things than death.” Morrigan said with a solemn nod.
“He had much courage, even though it couldn’t save his life.” Wynne said thoughtfully.
“Maeve, I’m so sorry.” Alistair said as he knelt beside Wynne and Leliana. “I should never have assumed he was a danger to any of us.”
“Alistair, I think he would have liked you. You had a lot in common.” Maeve said softly. The regret in her tone was tangible and Alistair placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“In another world we could probably have been friends, yes. I’m going to help with the pyre. Do you want us to give you a few more minutes?”
“Please get me the staff Eamon gifted me. I hope the Arl isn’t too offended but I don’t deserve it anyway. I didn’t save Conner. Jowan did.”
Alistair flinched ever so slightly. “Maeve, are you sure? You won’t get it back.”
“I won’t get Jowan back either, you idiot. And yes, I’m absolutely sure. A brave mage deserves a powerful and beautiful staff.”
“I understand.” Alistair bowed his head.
When the pyre was lit, true to her word, Maeve only allowed it to be set aflame by mages’ hands.
Few attended the pyre’s lighting, but Maeve stayed until dawn.
Days later they ventured to Denerim, for the final battle against the Archdemon.
Before the Battle of Fort Drakon, Alistair stormed up to her at the gates.
“I’m told you’re not bringing me with you, Warden Amell.”
He said. He looked heartbroken. He knew that there was no changing her mind and that this would likely be the last time he saw her alive.
“That’s right. Ferelden will have their Hero. But afterwards, the people will need a leader. Besides, the Maker and I have some unfinished business.” She said the last part softly, with something akin to a smile on her face, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“I understand. Just know that it has been an honor fighting at your side. Andraste guide you, my Lady-I’m sorry. My friend.”
“I’ll allow it. Just this once.” She replied with a smile as her hound trotted up to her.
“Goodbye Alistair. Maker be with you.” She reached up and touched his shoulder briefly. Only a little regret in her tone. She hated leaving him behind to be King when he didn’t want to be -but she’d never wanted to be a hero either.
“Look after Alistair, Mouse. This is a journey you can’t follow me for, boy. You be good now, yeah?” The dog whined sadly but didn’t move to protest.
“Are you ready, then? Grey Warden? The gates will be held by Ferelden’s finest.”
Arl Eamon nodded to Alistair and Sten as the Mabari took position next to Alistair.
“I’m coming, my love. I’m coming.”
Maeve said softly before they began to march.
Wynne, Zevran and Leliana fell into stride behind them and Maeve spared a final glance over her shoulder as they marched.
The battle was long and grueling.
But once the Archdemon was weak enough, Maeve was able to seize the opportunity to slay it, ending the Blight before it had truly begun.
As she drifted out of the living realm and into the Fade, she could hear the voices of those around her.
Some cheered, others gasped, a few even cried out in horror and anguish as they watched a mage, of all things, become a legend.
But as the Maker called her home, Warden Maeve Amell’s only hope was to join her beloved, wherever he was, for all of eternity.
Ambiguous rubbish
Thanks for reading! Just a reminder y’all this is not my main hc for Maeve and Jowan! They’re alive and well!
If Maeve was trapped in a nightmare, what would it be like?
“Hmm, the Calling will be solved just like any other problem that has gotten in the way of our happiness before. Challenge accepted.”
~~~~
“In my nightmare, I can sometimes hear Jowan but I can’t see him, let alone reach him to stop the Chantry from hurting him. The worst of my nightmares are flashbacks of things that have already happened that I cannot undo. But I take comfort in knowing that they will never touch him again.”
Peeps, I’ll happily rp the aforementioned scenario if anyone is interested! I’m trying to get into these stubborn mages’ heads for my fic!
Your character (OC or canon tbh, just has to make sense for them to be in Ferelden during DAI) can be the one who helps Jowan not get killed during his most recent “mission” and they may wind up interacting with my Amell also.
This verse couldn’t be romance centered though bc obviously Jowan is taken by the lovely Warden Amell
But it could be fun to stretch my legs! Please let me know if anyone wants to write with me!
So in love with the idea of DAI era Ex tranquil Jowan using his brand and SUPREME acting skills to pretend he’s still tranquil and infiltrate and Obliterate Venatori camps and causing chaos
He doesn’t like slavery and he’ll protect the Tranquil with his life.
The chantry initially puts him up to it bc he’s married to Maeve Amell and they Don’t Like That™️
They want to keep him out of the public eye so they send him on what is really a suicide mission disguised as “Official inquisition business”
It backfires because instead of Jowan being killed he’s actually REALLY good at destroying Venatori camps and frees slaves, Tranquil and just in general creates a hassle for the Venatori so they can’t touch the Tranquil for their skulls.
Jowan does this three or four times until Maeve and Sister Nightingale find out (he gets injured after a mission goes wrong and has to be rescued) and Amell is Big Mad☠️
Leliana has a ✨little chat✨ with the Chantry official who tried to get Jowan murdered and they all live happily ever after.
Leliana is a girls girl. No one fucks with her besties or those they love!
You can’t convince me Jowan wouldn’t have a crisis over being used as a pawn by the Chantry one final time.
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