Lessons from the Great and Powerful

The first order of business for Vivienne was to settle into her new home. The Chantry would do fine. Most Chantries were built under a similar plan, Ferelden Chantries more so than others. When a people had little to spare there wasn't much room for creativity and reinterpretation. The Chantry wasn't just familiar, it was well fortified, warm (or as warm as a stone building in the frigid mountains could be) and best of all, well guarded. The templars congregated there when they weren't training at the bottom of the hill with the Commander and it did well to calm Vivenne's nerves to see them. She'd been months now without a proper templar and though she would not fall to a demon's seduction, it was reassuring to know there were steps in place should possession take place.

There was no room for overconfidence in this world. Not any longer.

Second on Vivienne's list was to begin the Herald's training. Immediately. She was glad to meet the Herald when the Inquisition was still young and impressionable because serious changes were required. For one, the girl wandered about without much of a care as so who saw her frolicking. They were far from Orlais but members of The Game were never out of reach of anyone in Thedas. Orlais thought the Herald as a thuggish, poorly mannered wildling. It would do their Inquisition ill to have her perpetuating such rumors by climbing on top of buildings and rummaging through the dirt for coins.

Worse yet was her magic. For someone with such an important title on their shoulders, Pol had a rudimentary understanding of her abilities. She knew how to use barriers and cast an ice spell. That was it. Those weren't tools to win a battle, let alone a war. To make matters worse she walked unguarded most of the time. Her magic pool was shallow, hardly uncovered and absent unless one focused on it. If they weren't careful she could veer off into hedge mage territory and that was another explosion waiting to happen. Thedas had already had one too many explosions when it came to Chantry icons.

Thus began her tutoring. Vivienne made sure to stress the importance of it not just to the Herald but to her advisers as well. The knowledge she had to pass down was invaluable. Thankfully, all saw the importance in it and worked around five days straight for Vivienne to teach. It wasn't enough time. A life time wouldn't be enough but they were at war and private sessions with the last loyal First Enchanter were something they could afford to spend time on.

"Do not slouch, Darling. It is unbecoming. You are a symbol now. You must emulate what the people imagine a symbol to be."

Pol puffed out a sigh, going straight as a maypole. It wasn't a stance she could sustain. It put too much pressure on the back. Vivienne kept from telling her that. It would be better for her to learn it firsthand. She would remember it that way.

"What does posture have to do with spellwork?" she asked and soon lost her posture. Vivienne clucked her tongue and the Herald adjusted herself again, this time taking a stance that had poise, yes, but sustainability. Vivienne smiled.

"Everything. Magic isn't something you do. It's something you are. It flows through you and heeds your call. If you aren't careful it can control you and lead you astray. Every action we take shapes oneself and in doing so, one's magic."

Vivienne called a flame to her hand. Pol tenses but watched. The girl had a reluctance toward fire that Vivienne had seen a hundred times over in apprentices who had come into magic through abuse, setting their abuser a flame. It was a poor way for anyone to be introduced to their life. Shame she hadn't been found by a Circle earlier.

"Respect of magic is important, but it is equally important if not more so not to allow that respect to become fear. Fear and overconfidence have been the death of mages the world over. Do not let either control you."

She extinguished the flame and gestured for Pol to do like, as they'd practiced.

Eyes closed, palms open, Pol summoned a flurry of snow to her hand. Vivienne frowned.

"Specializations are good but the basics must be mastered first."

"Not fire. I won't use it." When she looked the Herald's eyes were something dangerous. Vivienne's first thought was of those demon possessed wolves they found in the Farmlands. She sent a pulse of energy to subtly study Pol, if only to reassure herself that the Herald was not possessed but she brushed it aside.

Pol stood then and walked to one of the few paintings in the room. It was of an idyllic mountain, Andraste and a mabari of all things praying in the foreground. The quiet peace of the picture didn't translate well into the Herald's mood.

"Before I came into magic, I was training to become a hunter. Quick, clean kills. We pray before each arrow is loosed, pray that it hits its mark and pay that the animal finds its path to death with ease. Being burned alive or shocked to death couldn't be farther from what I was taught all my life."

". . .You are a mage, my dear. Not a hunter."

"I know that!" Pol snapped and it shocked both of them. Pol faced the painting immediately, shamed. It was the first time Vivienne had heard her voice raised. By her reaction, it wasn't a common occurrence for Pol either. "Ice hurts, yes, but it deadens soon and most die sleeping. And barriers feel right. When I cast a barrier over someone, that's what it feels like I'm supposed to do."

"Both of which we can strengthen in you and develop to a level that will be envied by any mage in Thedas," Vivienne soothed. "After you learn the basics. It doesn't matter if you won't use them. The groundwork for these skills build your approach to magic and will help channel your energy."

Sighing, Pol turned around again and sat when Vivienne gestured.

. . .

On the third day Pol asked, "Does the Chantry teach about Tethers?"

Vivienne glanced at her. They were supposed to be concentrating on unlocking Pol's magic. Lessons on Andrastian history and proper etiquette only went so far. If there was anything to be gained from their time together, developing Pol's magic was priority.

She sighed and moved to pour herself a drink. Her back was getting stiff from sitting on the floor. Though their room was private, it wasn't comfortable.

"I take it this commonality amongst the Dalish?"

"No," Pol said quickly. "Well, not anymore. Solas. . . He said it still occurs but very rarely, and not to the degree of what it used to be."

Vivienne took an elegant sip of her drink, savored the taste, then downed the rest. She's poured very little for a reason. The next she'd be more careful with.

"Perhaps it would be better if you first explained what a 'Tether' is."

"A soulbond. We lost the name for it but it describes the relationship of the gods, of Elgar'nan's vengeance being cooled by Mythal's compassion, Falon'Din and his unending devotion to his brother Dirthamen. Or Andruil hunting while her sister Sylaise kept to the hearth so there would be a home to come back to. It describes a bond that is good. Can be good. Or it can destroy the one if the other chooses."

Vivienne gave Pol a glass. "No, the Chantry doesn't teach of such a thing."

Pol nodded and drank; her thoughts still away from their studies. "My Keeper said it wasn't something immediate, that it was grown and strengthened like any living thing. But those who had it were stronger for it. Connected. One's strength was the other's weaknesses. It stopped spirits from bothering the couple. A little part of their soul was in the other and when together, they were whole enough that no spirit would bother tempting them. There would be nothing it could offer."

"That, my dear, is a very dangerous line of thinking." Pol's eyes came back to her. She kept her tone civil but wanted to make sure she understood the danger of this foolishness. Apostates. What would they think of next? "Demons want nothing more than to experience our world. Often their only choice is to see it through our eyes, using out bodies. Such a bond cannot be broken, if it doesn't mutilate the mage to begin with. The Anders who destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall, he was an abomination who allowed a demon into his body. Vigilance is the only thing that can keep you from such a fate, which I will teach you."

Nodding, Pol set the empty glass aside. Vivienne knew she didn't have the girl's full attention but she would have to do with what she had. If the Inquisitor wanted to dream of fairytales there was little Vivienne could do to sway her. Teaching could only go so far if the recipient didn't accept it. This war with the templars was proof of that fact.

. . .

She felt it when Pol's magic unlocked. Energy without color stole Vivienne's breath and snuffed out the candles. Her skin crawled with the touch of static. Best of all she could sense Pol now, feel her well of mana, though that was obscured by the sharp sensation of the Fade bitten cut on her palm. Small victories at least. They didn't have to worry about the Herald erupting into magical anomalies because of backed up magic.

She was about to congratulate Pol when the door was thrown open, the Commander standing at the ready with his hand on his scabbard. He searched the room for hint of some monster before settling on the two.

"Is everything alright?"

"Have you been standing out there long?" Pol asked and the Commander flushed.

"Perfectly, fine. Thank you," Vivienne replied to him, casting a look at the pair. Neither one of them was looking at the other, except when they were, which was when they both looked up and then away.

Interesting, though that relationship would end tragically as all mage – templar relations did. Even in this reforming world, some things were absolute. When they put an end to the Breach, no doubt the Herald would be monitored for the rest of her life. And if Vivienne's goal came to fruition, she would be put into a circle. She'd have a high position, thanks to her deeds, but mages belonged where they were not a danger to the general public. If anything was to be gained from this war, that was it.

"I wasn't. . .I mean. Yes I was discussing Orlais with Josephine when I felt that pulse. Was that you?"

"Yes?" Pol glanced to Vivienne then straightened. "Yes."

Cullen stared, searching. Templars always made that expression when encountering new magic, though Vivienne knew the Commander's senses were blunted. He wasn't the first templar she'd seen deny lyrium. Poor fool.

"A break it seems is in order," Vivienne said. "We will reconvene in a half hour's time."

If she were a different woman, she might have been insulted by the speed at which the Inquisitor stood.

"Magic's good, then? It's not going to bleed out?"

"There's always the potential. I would suggest resting, my dear. That will shorten the risk. We will focus on honing your abilities when you return. You'll find you have a deeper well to pull from now."

The Herald nodded to them both before walking out, no doubt to speak with that elvan apostate. He'd been rather cross with their arrangement, insisting he knew how best to help the Herald. Pah. As if Vivienne was inexperienced with training mages new to their craft.

Cullen watched Pol as she left, his expression one of miserable affection, before refocusing on Vivienne.

"I take it the lessons are going well."

She crossed the room for a wash cloth and cleaned her hands in a basin of water. "The Herald came into magic late in life. The switch hasn't been an easy one."

"Ah," the Commander said. The templar in him was analyzing that information. Late bloomers were often the most dangerous and dissatisfied. They were at a greater risk of demons because of their naiveté with them. And they were restless.

"Obviously I don't need to remind you to keep an eye on her."

"Actually. . .I don't think that's necessary."

Vivienne stopped. She pulled the cool cloth from her face and stared at the Commander like she'd never heard someone disagree with her. Whatever expression she bore changed Cullen's expression from one of wariness to one of firm decision.

"No. I don't think Lavellan will be a problem."

And the daft man said it with a smile.

Were she younger she might have gaped at him. Of all the members of the Inquisition, she believed the Commander would understand the danger she posed. And here she thought him an intelligent man.

"And what would be your reasoning for 'thinking' that she, an apostate mage is not a danger." She couldn't keep the scathing tone from her voice. The Commander stopped smiling and his stance shifted like she was the unreasonable one.

". . .It's hard to explain. She doesn't feel dangerous."

"Which is why you came running when her power manifested. You and I both know a mage doesn't need to have any sort of superior ability to become dangerous. Weak mages fall to corruption and give way to demons."

Cullen was frowning now. Good. Maybe he would finally come to sense. "Honestly, I don't think she will. It. . . she feels different."

Feelings.

The fate of the world rested on feelings.

"I would reconsider your stance on lyrium," she said, chin raised. Cullen paled and his hands squeezed like they were trying to hold tight to something. "Your ability to discern danger is slipping, and that proves poor for a man in your position."

"Now – "

She didn't give him the chance. Vivienne gathered her staff and left the room, the Commander's words falling at her feet. She would make sure the Herald wouldn't be a danger, even if she had to do it herself.