Author's Note: Thanks to my BETA Xmaster! This is my first Dragon Age fanfic, been a couple years since I've written anything. I do not own anything Bioware, just a fan that loves the world!
Prologue
"Lesson Gone Awry"
"Damn the day your Mother bore you!"
The Senior Enchanter slammed his staff against the ground, gripping it tightly with both hands to support his weight. He was quite upset, or constipated, Weylin could never tell and most days he honestly didn't care.
However, on this particular day, he was currently having a rather tough lesson in fire magic and was in no mood to anger Senior Enchanter Vortigern any further than he already had. Hence, much brown-nosing had ensued on his part.
"I'm sorry..."
Vortigern, ignoring Weylin, continued with his ranting, "I said, for the umpteenth time, that you must concentrate. You do know the meaning of this word yes?"
The Enchanter's words were all perfectly clipped, his accent precise, which usually meant he was angry. Weylin swallowed a lump of disappointment; his day was not going to end well. He wondered how long it would be before the Enchanter whacked him across the head with his staff, hopefully not too hard, he was already plotting revenge against the Templars who would undoubtedly snicker at him when it happened.
Perhaps I'll figure out a way to curse them, make them bleed from every orifice...
Weylin chided himself, he'd never have the courage to do any real damage to the Templars. Hell, he thought, he couldn't do any real damage to them even if he wanted to. Weylin tried to ignore the bitterness he felt at the thought. He was the most ungifted apprentice he'd ever heard of, and he was fairly certain if he didn't clean up his act soon they'd probably make him Tranquil.
Weylin did not want to be made Tranquil.
Swallowing what little pride he had, Weylin nodded at Vortigern, "Yes sir."
The fear of Tranquility looming over him, Weylin turned to face the pile of "evil" books that were refusing to burn for him. Trying to ignore the fact that they were standing on one of the more shaky balconies of Kinloch Hold, Weylin found himself having a particularly hard time ignoring the extraordinarily sweaty Templar breathing down his neck.
Why are Templars always so damn sweaty? Must be the armor...
Squinting his eyes, he held his hands stiffly toward the pile of books and willed them to burn. He concentrated, he focused, and he was almost certain he was about to do it! Just as all around him became silent and all he could see were the books in front of him, there was a sudden crack in the air and his vision blurred, leaving a burning sensation which overpowered his skull.
"DAMN IT BOY YOU'RE NOT DOING IT RIGHT!"
Enchanter Vortigern shoved the stunned Weylin out of the way, allowing him to see that the Templars who had been observing his pathetic attempt at burning the books were nearly doubled over with laughter. Rubbing the sore spot on his head, Weylin fought the urge to kick the Templar nearest to him. He so very badly wanted to shove the Senior Enchanter off the balcony and watch him scream and writhe as he fell into the murky depths of the lake. Weylin half hoped the rumors were true about the various dangerous beasts that swam just below the surface of the lake. Oh what joy it would be to see the enchanter eaten by some extra large mackerel or squid. Weylin had overheard some of the other apprentices talking about the mutated fish they'd seen the Templars bring in, and some of them suggested the reason was because of all of Weylin's poorly mixed potions making their way into the water.
Weylin had been highly unamused.
Looking at his hands he was surprised to see there was no blood, although a few strands of his blond hair had come off into his palm. Seething with resentment at the Templar's good mood, Weylin watched with mock interest as Enchanter Vortigern gestured theatrically toward the pile of books, creating a perfect pillar of flame that began engulfing the pile.
"And that, apprentice, is how it's done." Vortigern spun on his heels and jutted his thumb over his shoulder at the raging fire behind him, "Clean this mess up, I expect you back to your dictation on the Tevinter Mages tonight."
Shoving one of the younger Templars out of the way with his staff, the Enchanter stalked past Weylin and left without another word.
"And that's how it's done." Weylin mimicked, once he was certain the old man was out of ear shot of course. Turning toward the books, Weylin crossed his arms waiting for the flames to die down.
"I wouldn't be mocking my teachers if I were you, apprentice." Bruce, the younger Templar warned.
Weylin hated Bruce, he was smug, arrogant, sweaty, but most of all he seemed to be under the sad impression that he was better than Weylin, which was a point of particular annoyance to the young apprentice. Weylin knew without a shadow of a doubt that Bruce had to be the stupidest most pathetic creation of the Maker he'd ever had the misfortune of encountering. For reasons unknown to him, Bruce always ended up watching over him during assignments, which annoyed Weylin greatly.
"Now, can't you speed this process up? We can't have an apprentice wandering the upper floors without supervision, and I haven't had my lunch yet." Bruce announced, scratching at a dirty spot on his breast plate. Weylin rolled his eyes and turned to face the unfortunate Templar,
"If you haven't already noticed, my magical abilities are akin to a menstruating field mouse. So unless you want me to piss on this fire until it goes out, we're going to have to wait until the fire dies down the good old fashioned way."
"Well that makes no sense," another Templar responded, "what does a menstruating field mouse have to do with magic?"
"I dunno, it just came to me."
"What's menstruating even mean?" Bruce inquired, genuinely confused.
"Oh Maker..."
"Seriously what does it mean?"
Weylin pinched the bridge of his nose and fought the urge to punch Bruce for his stupidity when a rather sudden and large gust of wind blew across the balcony. The once contained fire quickly spun of control. Half burnt pages went flying through the air, vengefully crashing into the Templar's faces and spilling over the balcony.
"Andraste's breath! Get this under control!" The lead Templar, Harin, commanded as he ran to the pile of books and began stomping on them, "We should have just tossed these into Lake Calenhad like I wanted!"
Bruce had taken off his helmet and was now bashing at the flames that spread to the robes of his armor, "Commander Greagoir said we must burn the apostate's literature lest it be summoned out of the lake!"
"Oh shut up Bruce I know! Gah!" Harin suddenly realized his hair had started to singe a bit and began panicking, slapping himself in an attempt to kill the flames.
Weylin, too busy laughing himself silly to care about the pain the men were going through, was doubled over at the far corner of the balcony slapping his knee in delight. Finally, revenge had come to him in this most unexpected time! The wind was blowing just enough to make him feel comfortable while the Templars opposite him were being taken down by half burned literature. Deciding that perhaps there really was a Maker after all, Weylin watched as some of the loose sheets of paper flew over the edges of the balcony and he silently hoped a few of them would return to their masters. Perhaps a few of the apostates out there might maim Bruce and Harin one day, and the thought brought a splendid calm to Weylin's soul.
In fact, he was so into his blissful fantasies he failed to notice the semi burnt piece of parchment that had snuck itself into the inner flap of his robes.
Harin's inner uniform suddenly caught fire. Harin, letting out an uncharacteristically high pitched squeal, ran toward the edge of the balcony and smashed himself repeatedly against the stone in a futile attempt to kill the flames.
"Let it be known that I shall never doubt the mercy of Andraste again!" Weylin declared, wiping tears of delight from his eyes.
Even though his magical abilities were sadly lacking, he did have enough skill to put the minor flames on Harin and Bruce out. However, he decided to allow the scene to play out as nature intended. Afterall, what harm would come from letting some Templars get a few burns? Smirking to himself, he quietly enjoyed the beautiful insanity of the situation until the commotion attracted the attention of a passing Enchanter. The flames were quickly silenced and the Enchanter even stayed around long enough to give Weylin a good thrashing for allowing the fire to get so out of hand. Weylin was then ushered back to the apprentice quarters, much to his own relief.
It was totally worth it.
Smiling at the memory of the day's events, he couldn't help but chuckle quietly to himself. This earned him a powerful swat over the head from Vortigern, who was currently lecturing him on the Tevinter mages. Rubbing the sore spot, he decided nothing would kill the good mood he was in, not even a mind-splitting staff-induced head ache.
Completely, utterly and unquestionably worth it.
Thanks for reading! Please review! :D
I actually replaced this chapter on 9/10/2010 with more changes. I'm going through and editing the other chapters as well, hopefully to fix some timeline issues and make them flow a little better story wise.