"Where did you learn to do that?"

Jon panted, exhausted, and set his sword down in the dusty palace practice yard. He brushed his hair back from where it had come loose from its queue and become matted to his forehead with sweat. Finally he turned toward the familiar voice.

There he found Leah Cousland in front of the weapons rack, clad in workaday chainmail, hand on one hip, regarding him carefully.

"Apologies, Your Grace. I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy."

"Oh, that's…fine. And it's Jon, remember?"

"Of course, Jon," she smiled. "Just making sure that wasn't the wine talking last night. Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing toward the weapon rack.

"Not at all, please."

To his surprise, she picked out two masterfully worked longswords, hefting one into each hand. Turning back to him, she mused, "You didn't answer my question."

"Your question?"

"Where did you learn to do that?"

"You mean where did a mage learn to swing a sword? From my father. He taught me a few basics before…before I was taken away. He was a good swordsman."

"Your father was a knight?"

"A squire. His family was from Kirkwall, but they squired him in Ferelden. He was supposed to be a knight someday, but…"

"But what?"

"But he had a mage for a son."

"Oh…I see."

"It didn't really endear him to the local lords, I guess. From what I understand, he took my mother to Amaranthine and joined the city guard after that."

"I…I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I don't even really remember them."

"That…doesn't make it better."

"No, I guess not."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. What I meant was….I mean, I've seen lots of men swing swords. But I've never seen a man conjure a swarm of insects with one."

"Oh," Jon flushed. She had been standing there watching him practice longer than he realized. "I learned that from an old elf at the Tower. The elves have an ancient magic art that combines swordplay and spells."

Her brown eyes grew wide. "Do all Circle mages learn that?"

"No, we're not supposed to. It was sort of a secret."

She smiled. "I think I understand." Then she caught herself. "I mean, it's not that I understand what you've been through, because obviously I don't." Now it was her turn to flush, embarrassed. "I just mean…my brother used to give me secret swordplay lessons. And then I started teaching my nephew, Oren. And Oren's mother liked it even less than my mother did."

"Your mother didn't want you to fight?"

She shook her head. "Not with a sword. She thought the bow was more ladylike." She gave his shield a taunting whack with her off-hand sword. "I like to be in the thick of things," she grinned.

He smiled back, picking up his own sword and lunging at her, but she deftly parried away. "I know what you mean," he replied.

With a clang of steel-on-steel and the glint of sunlight dancing off burnished armor, the battle was on. She fought with quickness and grace, but her movements had a studied, almost academic way about them. She was skilled, but not experienced. Jon knew his tactics were less subtle, less skillful, but he was stronger, and had the benefit of a year of pretty much constant fighting under his belt. He had also been practicing for the better part of the morning, whereas she had come in fresh. At one point his fatigue got the better of him, and she took the opportunity to lay him out flat on his back. He went down with a grunt, but as she approached to declare victory, his body burst forth a pulse bitterly cold frost that sent her staggering backwards.

"Gah!" she yelped, dropping both her swords and falling on her backside.

Jon sprang to his feet with a grin. "Sorry, I couldn't resist." His merriment quickly turned to concern, however, when he saw her shivering and frantically rubbing her hands together for warmth.

"I'm sorry," he said, "that spell can be kind of rough on the extremities." He crouched down next to her and she flinched.

"I frightened you," he said, gravely.

"No. I mean, yes, a little. I just…I've never seen magic up close like that before. Except for healing, I mean."

He nodded and placed his hands over hers. A shimmering blue light seemed to engulf her whole field of vision and the ice melted away, leaving a pleasant, tingling sensation behind. She looked from her hands to his face.

"Thank you."

"Not at all. I…I shouldn't have."

"No," she replied, getting to her feet, "I'm glad you did. Next time, I'll be prepared."

He nodded. "It's not just that, though." He looked up at the palace windows, overlooking the courtyard. "You never know who might be watching. Magic run amok and all that. People could get the wrong idea."

She regarded him quizzically. "You do know you have your own house in Denerim, right? You could practice there without anyone seeing."

He blinked. "I…what?"

"Gwaren House. I've never been there, but I think it's a few blocks west of the market? Or maybe south. I can't remember. I'm sure the queen could tell you, though. Or Loghain. Or any number of other people around here."

He considered that for a moment. "I…uh…" I would feel like an idiot asking someone where my own house is.

She seemed to understand. "I can ask around, find out what kind of shape it's in. For your sake, I hope it weathered the battle better than Highever House."

"Please…I…thank you."

"My pleasure."

Jon sincerely hoped it was.


Author's note: Thanks everyone for all the feedback, fav'ing, and following! I'm clearly a sucker for a meet-cute. More to come!