Magic's Slave

We’re breaking from our regularly scheduled Nanders to take you live to the Kinloch Hold Circle Tower, where Jowan is er… eagerly awaiting us.
---------------------------------------

Jowan shifted, his manacles clinking against each other. Solitary confinement. A rebellious attitude, they’d told him. He’d only acted to protect the young Surana girl, one of his only friends, but that was rebellion. “Do not interfere,” they told him… And then they threw him in here.

He was huddled in the corner, clothing torn and tattered beyond repair. The only light filtered in from the small window near the top of the room. There was a grate in the corner that was to be used for relieving himself. When he’d been thrown in here the first night, he’d vomited everything they’d tried to feed him because of the smell emanating from that fetid hole. He shifted again and wished he could scratch the dried blood running down his arms, but the manacles made that impossible. The only thing he continued to thank the Maker for was the fact that he wasn’t attached to the wall.

Despite the squalor, his punishment had given him time to think, to come to an understanding. He understood why Anders had acted as he had. He protected us. He wasn’t just too stubborn to give in. It was misdirection, keeping their eyes on the troublemaker so they wouldn't roam our way. But now that buffer was gone and it seemed the task had fallen to him. I’m glad he’s out though. He deserved to finally get out of this place.

The door creaked open and light flooded the tiny space. A small bowl of water and some sort of gruel was kicked across the floor towards him. “Eat. We can’t have you dying on us.”

He crawled on his elbows and knees toward the water, draining the dish quickly before sucking down the food. It did nothing to ease the gnawing in his belly, but it was enough to keep him going, at least for a little while longer.

His guard threw him a disgusted look and closed the door with a clang, leaving the dishes behind.

He crawled his way back over to the corner, propping himself up with a soft sigh. He was too tired to care, too tired to even cry. And he was going to need his sleep, that being the only thing to give him strength for when the Templar returned.

A sharp kick to his side woke him abruptly from his dreams of freedom. He opened his eyes groggily to stare up at the two armor clad Templar in the room with him. Another swift kick to the ribs caused him to curl in pain.

“See?” one of them said. “Just like that. These mages are tricky, and even with their power suppressed they can still hurt you.”

“Yes, Ser.” A boot from his other side and he hissed in pain.

“Mages will do anything they can to get free, and that includes making deals with demons,” The first guard affected a dry tone, as if this was a lecture. Given how young the other sounded, maybe it was.

“Demons, Ser?” He heard the horror in the initiate’s voice and almost laughed aloud. Demons. The only demons here are the Templar.

“Yes. Demons. This one here is probably already an abomination.”

The voices of his parents assaulted his mind, Abomination, they called him. Monster. Abomination. Demon. Not my son. No, he wasn't an abomination yet, though it was getting harder and harder to fight off that temptation.

“This one decided to interfere with the punishments of some knife-eared bitch. So we dumped him in here, which means we can do whatever we like to him.” He could almost hear the sadistic grin. “It’s a pity the blonde got taken. He looked so much more like a woman than this one.”

There was a shocked silence and then an awed whisper, “How do you keep them from biting?” It would have been too much to hope that the newcomer would be appalled by the other man's suggestion. Obviously they'd started sharing "privileges" earlier with the new recruits, Lucky me.

A hand grabbed his hair and hauled him to his feet. “They don’t bite. They know what happens when they bite. Isn’t that right, maggot?” The hand in his hair forced him to nod and the thought of what was coming next caused embarrassed tears to slip down his cheeks.

He closed his eyes tightly to try and stop them. It’ll be fine. As long as I don’t resist, I won’t get hurt. I’m just a warm body. He shuddered. They’ll get bored and leave me alone. Comforting as that thought was, it also meant they'd be turning their attention to someone else. No. No, I have to resist. Make them want me so they won't go after her again. I can’t let them go after the only family I have. He swallowed against the bile that rose in his throat and thrashed weakly, trying to pull from the templar's grip.

“Look how… eager he is.” The one holding his hair dropped him and he shivered on the stone floor. “Don’t worry, mage, you’ll get what you deserve and nothing more.” He heard the metallic noises that he’d quickly learned to identify with the Templar simply removing their codpiece, and he whined pathetically.

The new one grabbed his hair and pulled him up onto his knees before forcing his head back down and placing a booted foot on his neck. “Like this then?” “Like this, then?” It left him horribly exposed with his hips high in the air, but he dared not lower them. They’d just hit him until he did what they wanted. The tears dripped from his eyes, mixing with the grime on the floor. Three heartbeats later, he was screaming and sobbing as the first Templar pushed his way inside without even the courtesy of spit.

“Shut him up!” The Templar behind him growled.

The boot on his neck lifted and he was hauled up by his hair again. “Open your mouth, mage!” The command issued from somewhere above his head. He pressed his teeth tighter together, screaming though them as the Templar behind him started thrusting. The back of a gauntleted hand crashed into his cheek. “Open!” the templar bellowed and he miserably complied, not wanting to be hit again.

The man’s length forced its way past his lips and the owner grabbed his hair in both hands, thrusting deeply, choking him. He stopped struggling and just shut his eyes, waiting for it to be over. This won’t be the last time. He thought miserably as he was violated from both ends. They’ll be back…

When the Templar finished with him, they merely shoved him to the floor like nothing more than the rest of the refuse. He curled up into a miserable ball in the pool of light on the floor and sobbed. Nothing I can do will change this. Monster. Abomination. I deserve this and I’ll do whatever they want, as long as I can keep them away from the little ones and my friends.

Hours passed. Maybe it was even days. Or maybe it simply felt like that because he hadn’t eaten again yet. His eyes opened at the sound of the door. There was a sharp intake of breath and a soft voice said, “What in the name of Andraste did they do to you?”

He looked up and blinked at the sight before him. The man had short cropped blonde hair and the brightest armor he’d ever seen, the metal seeming to glow. This had to be one of the Maker’s messengers, come to collect him. “Finally," he rasped out. “You’re finally here. Take me home to the Maker. I’m ready.”

Alistair stared at the pitiable sight before him and he felt his heart breaking. “No, I’m not…” He sighed and stepped into the cell and carefully gathered the poor man into his arms. “I’m here to take you, but to a better life. Anders gave us your name. I’m taking you and the Surana girl and the Amell boy with me today.”

Jowan blinked up at the face he’d mistaken for a holy messenger. “Alistair?” He let out a soft sob. “You came back to us.”

“It's King Alistair now," the blonde said quietly. “And you can be sure this will never happen again. There will be a full investigation launched and each Templar replaced with someone I can trust.” He trembled with barely suppressed rage. "Starting now."

“Ah.” There was a bitter self-mocking tone in his voice. “So the mighty rise higher and the fallen fall lower.”

Alistair didn’t comment, instead pushing himself up with Jowan in his arms. He turned and nodded curtly to Carroll. “I'm putting you in charge. I’ll be sending a full list of orders soon, Knight-Commander, but I trust you to know what to do: Get the filth out of here.”

Jowan struggled weakly. “NO! You can’t! They don’t deserve--” Then he snapped his mouth shut, waiting to be hit.

Alistair tightened his grip on his armful of wiggly mage. “Stop moving. You’re making it very difficult to not drop you." He took in Jowan's terrified expression and gave him a reassuring smile. "I wasn't talking about the mages. They're not going anywhere, so please, calm down.”

Carroll snapped his heels together, arms crossed at his chest. “You can count on me, Ser. This won’t happen again, as long as I’m in charge here. I’ll be sure to screen the initiates very thoroughly. If they show any signs of cruelty they’ll get hauled right back to the monastery.”

Alistair nodded to him again. “I give you full authority to transport anyone you see fit to Aeonar.”

Carroll grinned. “Yes, Ser!” Then turned around and started bellowing orders the startled Templar who were loitering around.

Alistair flagged down another Templar. “Bring me Amell and Surana. Now.” He then headed down to the docks to wait on his new charges. “Don’t worry,” He said softly to the man he was still holding, “you’ll be alright soon enough.”