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Daylen watched Alistair yank his longsword from the chest of the last No-Longer-Walking Corpse with a look of disgust. He had just turned back to Leliana and Daylen and opened his mouth, no doubt preparing to make a witty comment about the structural integrity of their foes, when a fearful and painfully familiar voice drifted from one of the cells.
"Hello? Is there someone there? Who is it? Please, can you help me?"
Daylen's legs were moving before he even realised it, racing down the hallway and coming to a skidding halt at the bars.
"Jowan?" He raised a hand to clutch at one.
"By all that's holy... Daylen? Is that you? I can't believe it..."
Jowan looked much more gaunt than the last time he'd seen him. His hair was stringy and lank, and his carefree stubble was more of a patchy beard. His charming smile was still present, Daylen noted, the pavlovian flush already blooming in his cheeks—but his eyes seemed dull.
"Maker's breath, I never thought I'd see you again of all people."
"I could say the same of you. I'm so glad you are alright—are you alright?"
Jowan let out a bitter noise, like a laugh that had been snuffed out at the source. "I threw my whole life away, only to end up tortured and left to rot in this Makerforsaken castle. No I am not alright, Daylen."
Now he knew to look closer, Daylen could see the scrapes and bruises littering his face, the blood on his robes, the odd posture in which he held his right arm. Daylen's perpetually furrowed brow creased further.
Without a second thought, he reached for the lock, hands fumbling with the iron. But before he could even consider how he would actually get it open, he felt a heavy, gauntleted hand on his shoulder.
"Wait."
Daylen frowned up at Alistair. At some point during the conversation, he and Leliana had caught up and flanked him without his notice.
"Lady Isolde - no matter my personal feelings on her - would not imprison someone without cause. What did he do?" Alistair asked, squinting at Jowan suspiciously, "What exactly did you do to be tortured and imprisoned?"
There was a long moment of hesitation. "I... I poisoned the Arl. For all I know, he's dead already."
A sharp inhale of breath came from Leliana. Daylen's eyes widened as he turned his gaze back upon Jowan, who couldn't meet it. Half on instinct and somewhat in shock, he replied. "He's not dead—at least not yet."
"He's not? That's a relief, I can't tell you how much. I swear to Andraste, I only did it because Teyrn Loghain told me to. He said Arl Eamon was a threat to Ferelden, he said he would settle matters with the Circle, so I could go back!"
Daylen allowed himself a moment of naive hope that he would have returned to the Circle just to be with him.
"The Circle isn't very forgiving of blood magic, Jowan—"
"Blood magic?!" Alistair interjected.
"—and even Loghain doesn't have sway over the Chantry."
"I know, I know. I was desperate. Look where it landed me." He sighed.
"I'm sorry, can we go back to the blood magic?" Alistair insisted, "Are you- was it you behind all—" He motioned to the scattered corpses behind them. "—this?"
"I know... I know it looks suspicious. But I'm not responsible for the creatures and the killings in the castle. I was already imprisoned when all that began. At first, Lady Isolde came here with her men demanding that I reverse what I had done. I thought she meant my poisoning of the Arl! That's the first I heard of the Walking Corpses. She thought I'd summoned a demon to torment her family and destroy Redcliffe. That was when... she had me tortured. There was nothing I could say to appease her. So they left me here. Indefinitely. I never thought it would end like this."
He dragged his hands down his face in disress, heedless of his injuries. "Maker, I've made so many mistakes, disappointed so many people! If only I could make things right. I... I need to ask you a question." He turned to address Alistair briefly. "You can do whatever you feel you need to afterward, but I need to know." His eyes met Daylen's, pleading. "What became of Lily? They didnt hurt her did they? The thought that she might have paid for my crime..."
Sour jealousy rose in his throat at the love in Jowan's voice. No concern for the price Daylen had paid. Would pay again a million times over. He swallowed it down. "The Chantry sent her away. I don't know where."
"Oh my poor Lily..."
Some spiteful part of him wanted to reveal her betrayal, how she had turned on him instantly. But he wouldn't be able to live with himself seeing the broken look on Jowan's face.
He looked down at his hand, still on the lock, and began to channel his mana through it, feeling it heat up in his palm.
"Woah woah woah, what are you doing? You can't just... set a blood mage free!"
Leliana, who had until now been silently observing the unfolding issue, finally spoke up. "He wishes to redeem himself, Alistair. Doesn't everyone deserve that chance?"
The lock was now red hot, a weak shield spell barely protecting his hand from the scorching metal. For a moment, he selfishly imagined Jowan, overcome with gratitude, embracing him as soon as he is freed. Begging Daylen to take him along on their mission. The lock finally gave way under the heat and snapped, allowing the cell door to swing open.
Jowan barely even looked in his direction as he stammered his excuses as to why he could not join them.