It was an uncharacteristically sunny day in the Frostbacks. Typically, this would have put Seyna in a good mood; the sunshine was always a welcome addition to her day. Not today. Each step she stomped her way out to the training yard was forceful, as if punishing the ground for her upcoming torture. Her hair was in its usual braid, but much more tidy and secure than usual. She was preparing for war. Or Commander Cullen. Mostly war.
Earlier in the week when Cassandra had learned that Seyna lacked any hand-to-hand combat experience, she delayed their departure for the Hinterlands. Much to Seyna's dismay, it was then ordered by the Commander that she undergo evaluation and training of defensive combat to ensure her survival once they left Haven. It wasn't that Seyna didn't enjoy being tested- that was one of her guilty pleasures, actually- it was moreover her deep discomfort with the ex-Templar among them.
Seyna had been thinking over her conversations with Cassandra about the Templar Order, and she had been pouring over research about the founding and history of the Order… But she really didn't like the idea of going against someone who had anti-magic capabilities. She wasn't clear exactly how Templars attained their powers, or if they revoked or lost them when they left the Order. It felt so uncomfortable to try to talk alone with the Commander that Seyna hadn't approached him to ask more detailed questions about this.
Whenever she had tried to talk to him directly, it felt like his golden-brown eyes bore into her to such an intense degree that she tripped over her words and lost her train of thought. It was hard to tell if he was afraid of her, skeptical of her, or if he just hated her. Regardless, she felt it was important to understand Templars thoroughly since her party faced a high likelihood of confrontation with rogue Templars in the valley… She needed to know what to expect from them. In theory, that is.
In practice, she really didn't want to find out what it felt like to be leashed in some way by the powers of an anti-mage. In preparation for the fight ahead, Seyna had spent already a few hours this morning stretching her muscles and her mind. She felt positively electrified by the time she stepped out of Haven's main gates. Her eyes quickly scanned the training yard, trying to get a read on the situation before she approached.
Commander Cullen and Cassandra were both positioned around the edge of the area sectioned off for training and sparring. They each called out critique and corrections over the sound of metal on metal. Seyna took a few hesitant steps closer to the ring, trying to watch the sparring recruits. She was spotted, however. The Commander's eyebrows shot upward, and he seemed… startled? But he seemed to recover quickly and draw himself up to his usual proud stance. He waved her over with an exaggerated hand motion, prompting those around to all swivel and look to her.
With a deep breath, Seyna braced herself. She strode over to the ring while carrying her staff in a firm grip at her side. When Cassandra saw her, she offered a small smile when she nodded to the mage. "Herald, thank you for joining us." she called, and the recruits in the ring took their cue to retire and vacate the area.
Seyna gave Cassandra a chastising look, trying to remind her that she hated being addressed by the weird title she inherited. "You will be sparring against Commander Cullen this morning. I will be coaching you; we are going to evaluate your ability to respond to combat demands. It will be essential for you to be quick to react correctly once we journey out of Haven and into dangerous areas. Please," Cassandra waved her arm to invite Seyna to enter the ring.
As she stepped carefully over the rope "fence" of the ring, Seyna's eyes darted to Commander Cullen. He was intently watching her at that moment, standing steadfast inside the ring. Seyna's face heated a bit, out of nervousness and perhaps shyness. She looked away almost immediately, but it felt like she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her. Sizing her up?
Trying to lighten the mood just a bit, she cracked the knuckles on both of her hands and crouched slightly lower. She looked to Cassandra with a grin. "All right, Lady Pentaghast," Cassandra's face soured, prompting a small laugh from Seyna (and to her surprise, from the Commander too). "Tell me what to do."
"You need to evaluate your opponent and try to identify the advantages they have over you. Just as importantly you need to know the advantages that you have over them. Look at the Commander, what do you see?"
Well, that was a loaded question.
Seyna felt that electrified feeling all the way through to her fingertips now. It wrapped itself into a knot in her chest, gripping tightly and shortening her breath. She was terrified to be in the ring against him… She knew almost nothing about him, as a person or as a Templar. What would happen to her if he used his abilities? Her stomach seemed to twist itself into knots over this fear of the unknown.
With a steadying breath, she looked away from the safety of Cassandra to evaluate the Commander. At that moment, he was standing with his shield raised and sword dropped back. When she met his dark golden eyes, he began to strafe slowly to his right.
Mostly on instinct, Seyna's footwork mimicked Cullen's and always kept him opposite her. This continued in near silence for a few moments. The sounds of their footfalls felt like an ominous procession. The tension in the air felt like an extension of the electrified feeling in her nerves. It almost felt like there was a tether between them. Was this because of the lyrium in his body?
"Herald Lavellan, what do you see?" Cassandra prompted again.
"He is… Err, armored. Metal, something with obsidian in it. Shiny. Maybe silverite- erm, and... He's-" she continued to carefully place her feet as he circled. More than anything, Seyna did not want to face plant into the slightly muddy earth beneath them. The Commander raised one eyebrow at her, and she could swear he grinned behind that shield. "Taller- Larger than I am. Human male, most likely. Appears strong, physically. Armed, obviously, umm…"
"And what does that tell you of your advantages?" Cassandra prompted, trying to focus Seyna a bit. She leaned against one of the fence posts around the ring, forward on her elbows.
Seyna pondered this as her feet continued to carry her around the ring, always mirroring his movements. "My advantages? Magic, he does not wield a staff or focus that I can see." Green sparks shot off the end of her fingertips just as Cullen stumbled a step. Was he startled? "I am more mobile. Smaller, lighter, and probably faster." He seemed to regain his footing and his face revealed nothing.
"Possibly, that is true." Cassandra continued, pondering how to proceed. "If he is armed with a sword and shield, and you are equipped with a staff and no armor, what is your primary goal?"
"Escape." Seyna replied without hesitation. "And prevent him from pursuing." There were murmurs from the surrounding audience of recruits and officers. Cassandra drew herself back up to full height and crossed her arms.
"That is the most strategic choice, true. But for the sake of this exercise, we shall say that escape is not an option. We shall assume he is intent on taking you down. How do you defend yourself?"
Seyna's face lost all color as she eyed the Commander again, imagining all sorts of horrors of his anti-magic powers washing over her and silencing her connection to the fade. How would that even feel, with the anchor? Would it work? Would her hand be injured? "I… Erm..." Seyna stammered. She switched from carrying her staff at her side to gripping it with both hands. She pondered what she could cast quickly enough to win before he could silence her. Staff gripped between her hands, she crouched lower. Her face hardened into a mask of calm, her battle focus sliding into place. This wasn't Commander Cullen, and it didn't even necessarily have to be a Templar. It was just someone intent on ending her journey here, and she would not permit that to happen. She stared intensely into the eyes of her opponent across the field.
As a Templar, there was a particular bodily sensation that one got familiar with when you were near a mage. It was more intense the more powerful the mage was, or the closer they were to losing control of their power. It was like being near the edge of a waterfall; something that you knew was a dangerous, deep drop. The closer you came to that edge, the more it pulled at you somewhere in your gut. Something that was tantalizing, always so tempting to know what it would feel like to go over. To lose yourself in the fall, to finally stop resisting.
A Templar's complicated relationship with lyrium wasn't much different, really. Your body always felt the hunger for it and knew that using it would fill that missing part of you that badly wanted to go over the edge of the falls. It was easier to resist the lure of the mages' aura if you had recently used… Like being satiated.
Cullen had never felt the pull to a mage like he did with Seyna Lavellan. Maybe it was her anchor that intensified the sensation, or maybe she was closer to the fade than other mages. Whenever he was near her, he felt like he was in orbit around something with intense gravitational pull. He couldn't dare explore that feeling or be pulled under by its overwhelming power. It was tempting… intoxicating even. It was like a song you couldn't forget, the melody so sweet and sorrowful that it caught your breath. It was much safer to keep her at arm's length and not become too familiar with the closeness of her.
He feared, too, that the pull he felt now was his own fault for stopping lyrium. He knew it would be easier to avoid the unnerving power that her magic could have over him if he were still taking it. He wouldn't feel the need to be drawn in by her, to talk to her just a bit more, to hear her laugh…
He was nervous when Cassandra had suggested he spar against the Herald to help train her. The theory was sound, but he didn't know how it would go. It had been a few months since he had taken lyrium, and her magical potential was magnitudes stronger than the strongest enchanter he had ever subdued. But this wasn't a battle to defeat her, it was a training. A lesson.
In the ring with her now, Cullen felt the pull to the mage as if it were a rope securely around him and pulled taught between them. He was quite literally feeling drawn to her, terrified of going over the edge. He would not fly too close to the sun, not fall victim to her raw power. But some part of him wanted to, so badly. He wanted to be nearer and nearer to her and feel that sensation wash over him and embrace him. The hot feeling of it breathing against his neck, clutched to him so desperately because it wanted him as much as he wanted it.
And now, as her peculiar eyes stared into his- impossibly bright and entrancing even from this distance- he found himself struggling to stay grounded. His head swam. The sooner this was over, the better it would be for his sanity and the fleeting grasp he had on his self-control. His mouth went dry. When she wielded her staff with intent, crouching lower like a coiled spring, he felt a tug somewhere behind his navel. He was excited to see what she would do next, his heart accelerating.
Before she cast, he felt her draw all the energy between them into herself. It was like a net she had cast in the arena was being drawn in, impossibly quick. He barely had time to conjure the energy to dispel the magic before it collided with him. Bracing himself behind his shield and even squinting his eyes shut for a moment, he heard as the ice shards formed rapidly on either side of him. He had stopped his strafing and locked in place for the blast. Peeking over his shield, he checked the damage.
Grasping shards of ice had formed in a spray on his left and right but parted around him like a boulder in a stream. His counter spell had worked, much to his surprise. He felt the lack of lyrium inside himself even more acutely now. He ached for her power. Drawing upon a resource within him that was barely there was not wise. He felt exhausted just from that effort. The sparring ring and its audience were silent, except for his panting and the Herald's frustrated gasp.
Of course, he realized… A lifelong apostate. Had she faced anyone with a Templar's abilities, before? Did she know the sharp feeling of whiplash that had been coming when he countered her spell? Judging by the look of shocked pain and dismay that contorted her face, she had not anticipated it. After a moment to steady herself, she stared at Cullen again. Her eyes were darker now, dangerous, and intense. He was in trouble if he stayed on the defensive. He had nothing left to draw upon to stop her spells.
He needed to change his strategy now that she was engaged. He needed to take control of the encounter. With measured steps, he quickly vaulted the narrowest band of the path of ice on the ground and continued toward her, shield held fast in front of his weight. He would attempt to overpower her physically and startle her if he could not stop her spells.
The searing pain of the magic that snapped back into her body made Seyna's fingertips numb. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple, and she spat a mouthful of blood on the ground to her side. Textbook theory of anti-magic hadn't prepared her for the painful sensations that surged through her system now. Through narrowed eyes she watched as the Commander vaulted the crystal-like shards of ice and began to charge her. His feet were driving into the ground, propelling himself toward her faster and faster.
Well, there was no running away from him, she was already backed against the fence… Her eyes darted with every possible plan she could fathom to escape his charge. His shield was raised, it seemed he planned to knock her off her feet. At the rate he was moving, he would certainly succeed.
Seyna decided her goal was to maximize the distance between them again, to give herself as much reaction time as possible to the next move. She also thought the course of action most likely to succeed involved doing what the Commander least expected her to.
So, she ran. Towards him. Her body was lowered in the posture of a sprinter as she kicked off hard with her back foot and lunged at him. She carried her staff at her side in one hand, pointed in the direction she ran as to not slow her down with its awkward swinging. Her choices were to try to pass him on the shield side, but of course he could react quickly enough to close the distance between them and knock her over with the broad side of the shield. So, she chose instead to go for his sword-bearing side. Cassandra probably didn't like that idea, it occurred somewhere in Seyna's mind.
Her only hope was that he could not effectively draw his sword back enough to swing at her in the time he had to react. She was closer now, closer, and closer, quickly closing the gap. She had been right; she could be faster than him. She feinted to the shield side, then quickly back to her intended path, past his right side.
This near to him, she felt the tether of some sort of force between them. Was it the lyrium? It felt remarkably like desire. Excitement… temptation. She tried to ignore it. Time seemed to slow as they came near one another. She wanted to explore the feeling, she wanted to press against him and feel it hum in her bones. Stare up into his eyes and understood what lingered behind them. Wait, what? That wasn't right. Focus. Closer, closer- she was almost past him, almost on her way to safety-
With a sudden shout of pain, Seyna dropped her staff and continued running. She had made it past him, but he had driven the pommel of his sword into the gripped fingers of her weapon hand. He disarmed her and continued moving, turning around in an about face faster than she would have thought plausible in that amount of heavy metal armor. "Fenedhis!" she hissed, clutching her glowing hand to her chest. It wasn't broken, but almost certainly her fingers would be too badly bruised to properly grip anything for at least a few days. The anger coursing through her was indignant and all-consuming. Some small part of her knew that she was overreacting.
Still, he had bested her. Casting without her focus in hand would not be effective enough to defend herself completely or harm him. It was like trying to draw water from a well with your hands and no bucket. She had lost this round. She felt hot tears sting the corners of her eyes, feeling ashamed, angry, and foolish. Her throbbing hand shot periodic sparks of green fade energy when she tested straightening her fingers. It was too painful to be much use to her.
"Are you alright?" Commander Cullen called, dropping his shield and sword to his sides. The concern in his tone stung her, like salt on her wound. She didn't want his pity! Seyna took the opportunity of his dropped guard to focus intensely on conjuring fire. She didn't have her staff, but she figured that she could still draw a small amount of energy from the Fade if she used her anchor as the focus.
After a few seconds, Cullen started to look panicked, staring down in disbelief. He dropped his sword and shield and ripped off his gloves hastily. "Enough! I yield!" He cried, staring down at the reddened, warm flesh of his hands. He clearly didn't want her to try to heat the rest his armor in the same manner. That would be much more difficult to quickly escape.
Seyna crumpled to the ground, still cradling her injured hand to her chest. She dropped her head, her now-disheveled braid falling forward. Maddeningly, the taut rope between them only seemed to pull harder at her, drawing her to him even now. Cassandra had vaulted over the ring's barrier and crossed to Seyna, now standing over her. "That will be all." She called in a commanding voice to the audience. There was only a half-hearted shuffle as people milled about. "Dismissed!" she shouted louder, and the dispersal hastened. People began to shove past one another to get away from the Seeker's wrath.
The snowy mud where the weapons and gauntlets hand landed was rapidly melting and creating a soppy, muddy mess. Seyna saw them on the ground as she looked through her mess of hair across the ring. She chanced a look at Cullen's expression, checking his reaction. It was not what she expected… Beyond anger, beyond frustration, he looked livid. Betrayed. He began stomping his way towards her, opening his mouth, and starting a string of insults she couldn't quite make out. Cassandra stepped between them and talked over him, stopping Seyna from hearing the brunt of it.
"This is not helpful! Commander- This is… This is not the purpose of the training. We need Lavellan to be comfortable in armed combat-" Cullen stopped in his tracks, fists clenched at his sides. Seyna's heart lurched.
The fury only grew hotter and brighter within her. Using her uninjured hand, she pulled herself up on the fence post and managed to stand again. She threw her shoulders back stubbornly. "No. I don't want to do this. I told you I didn't want to do this with him in the first place. I want an opportunity to prove that I can defend myself without… Without the sword and board halla shit you are trying to teach me. I am not a soldier. I am not a… a… Templar." She spat the word out like it tasted of bitter root.
Without pausing to hear if there was an argument to her demands, Seyna grabbed her staff and climbed out of the ring. She stomped back to the gates of Haven. Green sparks continued to shoot off at random from her anchor. Varric and Solas were standing just outside the gate, watching curiously. To their merit, neither said a word as the elf mage stalked past them and into town. Varric seemed amused if nothing else.