#unshrinkingly

[chief-of-restless-hearts]

‘“And forasmuch as my hand hath offended, writing contrary to my heart, therefore my hand shall first be punished; for when I come to the fire it shall first be burned.” […] then it was, that stretching out his right hand, he held it unshrinkingly in the fire until it was burnt to a cinder, even before his body was injured, frequently exclaiming, ”This unworthy right hand.”’

This song is about Archbishop Thomas Cranmer. To me.

[milotry]

Louder Than Words

A Dragon Age fic

Ch 1/1 (Complete) ¦ 2,698 words ¦ AO3

Jowan & f!Amell backstory fluff with a sprinkling of angst

CW: Bullying, selective mutism

-

Aria spent most of her time in the circle’s library. She preferred the quiet solace of tucking herself away in a small alcove and studying to the alternative of exposing herself to the boisterousness of the other students, or to being under the prying eye of a templar. 

Outside of classes, where she would speak only when prompted, the library’s many tomes on herbalism, healing, and the fade could occupy her mind, distracting her from the fact that her brother had not written to her in months. Fausten used to write every other week, dedicatedly and without fail, each piece of parchment lighting up Aria’s heart with the assurance that the outside world had not blinked from existence in her absence, but the correspondence had ceased of late. Every attempt on her part to contact him only made the silence gnaw at her all the more.

Though she had been at the tower nigh on half a decade, Aria had not wanted to make friends. Making friends, she felt, would be admitting to herself that she was staying. It would be acknowledging that Fausten was not going to break down the great doors that sealed her prison, sweep her up and spirit her safely back to Kirkwall, back to her parents and her family. It didn’t help matters that she had lost the will to speak; ever since the day the templars took her, ignoring her cries and those of her mother, it was as if her mind and body had decided that her words were powerless. Aria frequently met direct questions with blank stares, something that had gotten her into trouble with the senior mages and templar stewards on more than several occasions, and it was certainly quite unhelpful when it came to fostering comradery with the other apprentices.

It was during one of her solitary library sessions that friendship - or something resembling it - was imposed upon her. The corners she chose to hide away in were selected very deliberately for their lack of visitors. Rarely did any of the tower’s inhabitants frequent the circle’s small collection of herbal remedies for digestive issues, or pay much attention to the dustier tomes that fell outside of the primary schools of magic. It was of particular surprise to Aria, then, when another apprentice appeared from behind one of the tall rows of bookcases. He glanced back the way he had come, looking quickly in all directions, then shrivelled against the shelves, breathing what seemed like a sigh of relief.

Aria recognised the boy as being a few years older than her, one of the apprentices who had already been in the circle when she had first arrived. He was a grubby, very unkempt individual at the best of times, but his hair looked more thrown out of place than she felt was normal, and a few patches of his robes were visibly singed. It was then she noticed that all the while she had been studying his appearance, he had been looking nervously back at her.

“Please don’t tell anyone.” He whimpered. It was a pleading, very pitiful statement, though Aria was not sure what he meant. She hadn’t spoken yet that day, but the longer his appeal hung in the air between them, the more she felt it would be best to reply. “...Tell them what?”

He paused, as if he didn’t particularly want to elaborate. “About me... them... about them chasing me. And this,” he gestured to his burnt clothing. “Please don’t tell the mages.”

“Why would I tell them?” Aria had experienced bullying between apprentices before, though luckily she had been so unresponsive that most would-be bullies quickly decided that she didn’t make for a very entertaining target. The boy looked down at his feet. “I don’t know. To get me into trouble, maybe.”

“I can’t see why I would want that.”

“Uhh, right. Ok.”

Uncomfortable silence.

“...Thanks.”

Aria stared at him for a few long seconds, then turned her gaze back to her tome, ‘Deep Mushrooms: An Extensive Study’. The boy remained. He crossed his legs beneath him and craned his neck to see the books behind him, shuffling a slim text out from one of the shelves and opening it at the halfway point, seemingly less interested in the contents than in simply having something to pass the time with.

The two of them sat in what felt like mutually appreciated quiet for the rest of the afternoon, until the circle tower’s meal bell rang out and made them both jump, snapping them out of the words on the worn parchment in front of them and back to reality. Aria gently closed her book and rose, returning it to its place, then watched as the boy did the same. She considered him for another moment, then left. He followed, and she heard his tummy audibly grumble for its supper.

Aria sensed that she may have inadvertently adopted a puppy.

Over the following weeks and months, Jowan - which was the boy’s name - attached himself to Aria like the moths that circled the tower’s sconces. If he strayed he was never gone long, and he joined her for lessons and meals whenever they coincided. If anyone else had latched onto her in such a way, Aria imagined she might have lost her mind, but Jowan appeared to have understood from the day they met that silence was her preferred method of communication, and he hadn’t said a single word to her since then. He greeted her with nods or a small wave of his hand, and seemed wholly content with it. As it was, Aria couldn’t bring herself to find him particularly annoying. Maybe she already had lost her mind, she pondered.

Ordinarily, Jowan, being a few years her senior, would have attended more advanced classes than Aria. It seemed that destruction spells were not his forté, however, and he had been frequenting the novice classes for the past several weeks - apprentices were only allowed to start throwing fireballs once they could be trusted not to set themselves alight. Jowan had apparently required new robes and swiftly-applied burn ointments more frequently than most.

“When summoning fire, a mage must be in complete control. Do not think this is an element one may use flippantly, or without focus; even the act of lighting a candle will require you to keep a strong will.” The senior mage eyed the class with mild derision. Teaching was not exactly every mage’s first choice of profession, but the circle offered few options. “Today we will be doing just that - lighting candles. You should each have your own. However,” she glanced pointedly at Jowan, “I do have a few spare.” He looked back at her, sheepishly.

The lesson continued smoothly. It took Aria several tries to will the wick of the candle to flicker to life, but eventually she held a warmly glowing flame in front of her. She didn’t have much interest in magic that couldn’t be used in healing or herbalism, but she supposed that one day she might need to cauterize a wound, or light a fire by which to heat a poultice, so it wasn’t completely without its uses. Jowan, unsurprisingly, was having much less luck with his candle.

He stared unshrinkingly at the wick, and Aria could see the determination in his expression, but his magic alluded him. A few voices on the other side of Jowan began to snicker and whisper. Most of the other students had managed to light their flames by now, and the senior enchanter was approaching those who had not in order to offer them guidance, beginning on the other side of the large library clearing they were occupying. Her back was turned. “Having a bit of trouble are we, bed-wetter?” Aria turned her head in the direction of the speaker, the apprentice nearest to Jowan. “Are you going to piss yourself again?” The tormentor had a friend at his side, egging him on, both smirking. Jowan was trying firmly to ignore them, continuing to stare at his candle in front of him. His fists were clenched around it, his knuckles turning a bony white.

“Do you know what they do to pathetic mages like you?” Jowan didn’t look up. “They make them tranquil. Wouldn’t that be nice? You’d finally have an excuse to be useless-”

The boy was cut off by the fire that had suddenly started at the hem of his robe.

“Shit---shit! Put it out!” He shrieked, his panicked friend trying to stomp out the fire but repeatedly kicking him in the process. The chaos lasted only a few seconds, as the enchanter had immediately swivelled on her heel at the noise and sent a torrent of icy water directly onto the wailing apprentice, drenching him from head to toe. He sobbed miserably.

“Who, precisely, is responsible for this?” She rounded on them, glowering.

“It was Jowan! I know it was!” The bully’s friend blurted, having edged a safe distance away from the other boy. Jowan’s eyes widened.

“What? No- this wasn’t- I didn’t-” He tried to sputter any kind of coherent defence, but choked once he saw the senior mage’s unconvinced frown.

“I believe this will be your first night in the dungeon, hm? Setting yourself on fire is one thing, but we cannot abide endangering your fellow apprentices.”

Jowan’s mouth hung open, speechless. The younger apprentices had all heard the horror stories about the tower dungeons, whispered between their bunks long after dark - the rats; the skeletons; the rumour that the veil there was weak, and that if you managed to fall asleep on the cold, damp ground, demons would infest your dreams and tempt you until your mind broke. Jowan tried to plea his innocence again, but no words escaped him.

“It was me.”

Everyone gawked in the direction of Aria’s voice.

“I did it.” She reiterated.

“You?” The senior enchanter raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Jowan was staring at Aria in shock - or perhaps it was awe.

“In that case, you will follow me. The rest of you, class is dismissed.” She addressed the remaining apprentices, then gave Aria a look that seemed to be a combination of disappointment and scepticism. “You, with me.” Aria followed the enchanter out of the library without protest. Jowan wordlessly watched her go.

The dungeons weren’t quite as grotesque and horrifying as Aria had been led to believe. Sure, there was a stain of what appeared to be dried blood on the floor of her cell, and the moulding pile of hay that had possibly once passed for a bed was infested with rat droppings, but the bit about demons had been nonsense. Aria had felt the veil before, tickling along her skin and pressing against the air around her, and she could feel no such sensation here. She sat propped against one of the uneven stone walls, scratching at the dried flecks of blood on the ground with a stalk of sharp hay.

She had gotten into trouble for her mutism many, many times, but never for any other kind of misbehaviour or misdeed. She suspected that since the boy hadn’t been hurt her punishment wouldn’t progress passed this unpleasant stint in detention, but she didn’t really like the idea of being branded a troublemaker, or “kid who sets people on fire”-er. She let out a muffled sigh into her forearm as she hugged herself, and decided that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to help anything.

A tapping sound at the cell bars made her flinch. “Aria?”

Jowan’s grubby face could be seen dimly in the low-light, peering through the bars at her. “I snuck you something at supper. I don’t think anyone saw me come down here.”

She imagined he had had to bribe an older, savvier mage for the dungeon keys. That was usually how any of them got anything. She shuffled over to the cell’s entrance, Jowan becoming more visible as she reached the grating. His expression was guilt-ridden. He stuck a skinny wrist through the bars, a loaf of bread in his hand. “It wasn’t you. I set his robe on fire. I didn’t mean to, but I did it."

Aria knew that. She wasn’t stupid. She had seen the anger flaring up in Jowan’s eyes as the boy had mocked him, and they had long been taught that magic and rage were a terrible combination.

“It’s ok.” she said.

She had spoken far more than was preferable today.

“But you got yourself into trouble for me. Why? You didn’t have to.”

“...I know.”

“So, why?”

A long pause stretched out between them.

“What they were saying. About the rite of tranquillity. I was scared. The templars already know you’re falling behind in class, what if they knew you had almost hurt someone?”

This was the most Aria had said to Jowan in the entire duration of their weird, unique friendship. He was looking at her thoughtfully, now.

“Thank you. But they don’t perform the rite on children - at least, I don’t think they do.”

“They might if they thought you were dangerous enough.”

He didn’t respond. Maybe she had frightened him with the idea.

Aria felt emboldened by her sudden lease of verbal capacity, and moved closer to the bars, looking into Jowan’s eyes. “Why did you start following me around in the first place? I can’t be very interesting. I don’t understand.”

He studied her face for a few moments and then broke from her gaze, looking at the floor. “It’s silly. You might laugh at me - or you might be offended, that’s also a strong possibility.”

“Tell me anyway.”

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Since you never said anything...I knew you wouldn’t tease me, or tell me I’m annoying, or ask me to leave you alone. It was selfish. And then you went and did this,” he gestured at the dungeon cell, “for me, and now I feel horrible.”

Aria could see why he thought he might offend her. Someone telling you they like you solely due to your unusual mental issues would probably be offensive to most people. But she couldn’t help that the last few months had been the least miserable of all the time she had spent in the Circle of Magi, and the least lonely. Jowan was clearly anxious, gnawing at his bottom lip, waiting for her response. She thought a moment longer, then said, “I didn’t want you to leave me alone. You’re...the closest thing I’ve had to a friend in five years.”

He relaxed slightly, but seemed to be waiting for her to continue. He should really have known better than to expect a speech from her. “I took the blame earlier because I wanted to protect you, so you have nothing to feel bad about. You didn’t make me do it.”

Jowan seemed embarrassed now, blushing at the earnesty of their exchange. “Thank you. Again.”

Aria found herself smiling.

“Thank you. For not leaving me alone.”

He stayed a few minutes longer, the two of them chatting quietly as Aria nibbled at the bread he had spirited away for her. Then they heard what sounded like the clattering of armour coming in their direction, and Jowan scrambled to his feet and toward the exit, glancing back briefly, then vanishing up the stairs.

She wolfed down what remained of the loaf, making sure there were no crumbs visible on her person, and moved further back into the cell again. A templar arrived shortly after, peering in at her from beneath the slits in their helmet for longer than felt comfortable. They moved on without saying a word, which was probably for the best; Aria did not respond to templars.

Her night spent on the dank dungeon floor was not as awful as she had expected it would be. The conversation with Jowan echoed in her mind, and Aria made a mental note to write to Fausten the next day. She had given up hope that he would ever continue writing back, but how could she not inform her brother that she had finally, at long last, made a friend?

[optimumfamilywellness-blog]

may this day be your day to expand in willingness and capacity to show up bravely. may you warmly embrace the beauty and joy this new moment undoubtedly holds. may you find the courage to become more alive with each breath, and fearless enough to challenge the notion of scarcity. may you boldly show your humanity, all of it- so others can feel seen and known in our broken togetherness. above all, may you unshrinkingly hold space for hope to find its way home to you. . . . . . . . . . #hope #psychology #willingness #expansion #intuition #scarcity #mindfulness #breathe #brave #courage #recovery #healing #therapistsofinstagram #kelowna #instagram #womenempowerment #women #womensupportingwomen #womeninbusiness #joy #courageous #riseup #bettertogether #holdspace #together #covid_19 (at Kelowna, British Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B9_on2kj73k/?igshid=2bps54n15xt3