Estella settled her cloak around her shoulders, clasping it with her new Lions' pin. Commander Lucien had enclosed it in his last letter, after she'd gotten around to mentioning that she'd lost the last one. It was a very characteristic sort of thing for him to do; just having it there was a nice reminder that someone was thinking of her, even far away. A reminder that not every piece of who she was could be considered up for grabs, in contention.
It was a nice thing to be reminded of, when every day with the Inquisition tested her in new ways. Estella knew she was changing. She knew not all of it was to be feared, even, but she did sometimes wonder if she'd even recognize herself when all of this was done. And then she started to wonder if she wanted to. But there were things from her old life that she wanted to hold on to, things that kept her steady. And silly as it was... she was grateful for the physical reminder that she was more than just the Inquisitor, because it sometimes felt like this was swallowing her whole being.
Sliding her sword into her belt, she settled it in place, checked that her lockpicks were safely secured in the tight braid that wound around the crown of her head, and her new stiletto knife was in the smaller sheath on her lower back. She'd lost the last one to the cave, but it was easily replaceable. Less typically, she'd slid a whole carrot up one of her sleeves at lunch. Everything seemed to be in order, so she departed, heading out of her office and the keep proper with purpose.
The first snow of the year had fallen the night before, cloaking Skyhold in a thin blanket of white. Already, the soldiers had scraped it off the stairs and main pathways, but she found herself walking slightly off those just to feel it crunch under her feet. Though it was a sign of a long winter ahead, she didn't mind it so much while the weather was still at least a little bit milder. Her feet carried her towards the stables and she paused only momentarily to return a few greetings along the way. She'd been taking it easy since she made it back to Skyhold after following Ves to the Hinterlands about a week and a half ago, but Asala had given her a clean bill of health yesterday, including her arm, which was a little sore still, but fully mobile.
The stable door was open as usual, and she ducked inside, first finding Nox amidst the rows of horses. She clicked her tongue, smiling at him when he poked his large head over the half-height stall and whuffed gently. “Hello, friend," she said softly, reaching up to rub his brow, sliding her fingers down to his velvety nose. Shrugging the carrot out of her other sleeve, she offered it up to him, snorting inelegantly when he took a big crunching bite out of it. “Don't act like they never feed you. I know better."
Nox ignored her with all the dignity of a prince, of course, and it didn't take long before the carrot was gone. Estella rubbed at his ears, tilting her head to the side. “Don't suppose you know where Harellan's gone, do you? He's the elf who takes care of you now." She hadn't seen him on her way in, but the stable complex was large, and he could feasibly be anywhere within it.
"He's a magnificent animal." Apparently, Harellan had been close by after all, though it seemed he'd only just arrived. He smiled at her, a bit uneasily by the look of it, and stopped a good six feet from where she stood, almost as though he were afraid of getting any closer. He was dressed not terribly unlike the other grooms and stablehands the Inquisition employed, save that his green tunic had the same teardrop pattern on the sleeve as his armor had in the same place. The length and odd style of his hair marked him as immediately unusual, though. "Very intelligent, too. May I ask how you came to be partnered with such a creature?"
“He was a gift," Estella explained. “I'm part of a mercenary company, or was, before all of this. The Argent Lions. Our commander is a chevalier, or used to be one. It's customary for him to give his lieutenants a horse of their own, when they're promoted. By then we've learned how to ride, of course, if we didn't know already." She wondered if it was her fault, that he was so hesitant to approach her. She supposed it must be—she could have been kinder last time they spoke, or clearer about what she'd meant.
Estella pursed her lips. “Um... you don't have to stand all the way over there, Harellan. Or avoid me. I might not have said it right, before, but I'm not... I'm not upset because of what you told me or anything. I just... it was a lot to take in."
He seemed visibly relieved, taking a few more steps toward her and stopping within a distance that was still polite, leaning sideways into one of the other stall doors and crossing his arms over his chest. "I—forgive me. That's good to know. It had been so long since we spoke. I almost feared that you were..." He paused, clearly searching for the words. "Displeased. To have learned that your father was an elf. Few would understand. Fewer would be glad of it."
Estella's eyes rounded. “You thought—no!" Flinching at her own volume, which had raised considerably for her at least, she shook her head emphatically. “No. No, it wasn't that at all. I admit, it was... surprising. I'd never really considered the possibility." She exhaled softly through her nose, rubbing at Nox's ears as he leaned his head down to sniff at her pockets for more treats. “No one—no one talks about that kind of thing, is all. Not in Tevinter, not—anywhere."
In retrospect, it was a stupid reason not to consider it a possibility. She'd always figured that the reason no one would discuss her father was because he was some kind of shame to the family, but that had always been a hypothesis about a noble's daughter and a common laborer, merchant, or slave. Something like that.
“I want... I want to ask you about them," she admitted. “I want to know more about them. As much as you can tell me. But there's something else I have to ask you first." Something more urgent, immediate. Necessary.
Any remaining trace of tension left Harellan entirely; he smiled much more fully, now, and it brought a spark to the green of his eyes that wasn't wholly unfamiliar. They way they narrowed a little more at the outside edges like that—Cyrus's did exactly the same thing, on the rare occasion he smiled so widely. "And I would be happy to tell you of them, when you decide you wish to hear. What is this other thing you wish to inquire about?" His tone had a certain kind of patience to it, suggestive of the fact that he had a good guess, but was refraining from making it to let her explain herself.
She appreciated that. It probably wasn't difficult to tell, but there were some things she wanted him to understand first. “About a week ago... I found myself in a position where I didn't have any weapons, and my allies were incapacitated," she said slowly. Even thinking back on it was unpleasant, to say the least. Estella knew she couldn't afford to be that much of a liability ever again. And if that meant she had to go back to the very first disappointment of her young life and try again, well, then that's what she'd have to do.
No one was going to die because she thought something was too hard to learn.
“I've never learned more than the basics of magic," she continued, figuring that this information would be at least a little useful. “I've never had issues with accidents because it's not even strong enough to cause them." She'd seen what Cyrus did, that first time he cast, and the aftermath, and been so afraid of doing the same that she'd actively tried to avoid anything that seemed like it might trigger it. She recognized that as rather too much ego, now, but at the time she'd just thought that was how magic worked.
“I never seemed to get much better with lessons, or even lyrium, really. Even now, half the time my fire isn't strong enough to reach the target. But... if you think you know how I can make it better, then I want to try. I have to try." There was no escaping the necessity of it.
"Then we will try." Harellan didn't seem at all daunted by her words, almost as if he'd been expecting them. "We could begin right now, if you are not averse. I believe there is an area of suitable privacy not far behind this building."
Estella nodded, grateful that he wasn't insisting on how well things were going to go. She didn't like to build up confidence in things like that. In fact, it was close to the thing she hated most. “Lead the way; I've got the whole afternoon, if we need it."
"Excellent." He seemed to mean it, turning at once on his heel and taking them out the side door. It was a ways further before they managed to find the space he'd been speaking of, but it did seem to be mostly cut off from outside view, by hedges and retaining walls, mostly, though one side of it was edged by part of Leon's tower.
Harellan turned to face her, then, tilting his head and blinking. "They tested you for affinity, didn't they? When you were first learning?"
“They did," Estella replied, shifting a bit uncomfortably where she stood. These were not her favorite memories, to be sure. “I... didn't really register very well on any of the devices, but I think they could at least tell when I'd touched the arcane one. Practically... I guess fire comes easiest, most of the time." It was hardly anything she'd call an affinity, though, just what she had the most practice with.
Harellan nodded slightly. "Conjure a magelight for me? Just a small one."
Estella wasn't sure what purpose such a basic spell would serve, but he was the teacher here, not her, so she complied. Raising her left hand to waist-height, she turned her palm up and concentrated, forming a small sphere of blue-purple light and letting it float so that it hovered benignly between them.
He crossed his arms loosely, humming. "Can you change the color? Green, perhaps?"
She furrowed her brow, but shrugged. “If you want me to." With a thought, she shifted colors until it was a bright emerald green. She suppressed a grimace. Of course that was the color that came easiest to mind.
"Ha. As I thought." Harellan seemed to find this development much more exciting than she did, rocking onto his toes before setting his heels back down on the ground. "You think this is trivial, don't you? It isn't. Most mages conjure lights in only one color, the default color of their magic, if you like. For example, Cyrus's were light blue. Mine are green." He raised both eyebrows at her. "Doing something like this, though, changing it—what seems so trivial to you would be highly difficult for many. Do you know why?"
She shook her head, almost taken aback by his apparent enthusiasm. “No, why?"
"Because it requires several very important skills. First of all, the ability to isolate one aspect of a multifaceted spell. Changing the color but not the brightness or the size is a work of great delicacy, something that most mages never bother to develop, or never can. That in itself also demands intelligence, intuitiveness, and a formidable amount of self-control." Harellan seemed quite satisfied by this, waving a hand to indicate she could dismiss the light.
Estella found it difficult to contain her skepticism. “It's not... really that important, is it? It's just a little light spell." She couldn't really imagine that it said that much about her at all. Cyrus could have done things like this in his sleep, probably. Well... bad idiom choice, considering, but still.
Harellan snorted softly. "On its own, no. Simpler spells are simpler to manipulate in this way. But it's a good sign. Some types of magic require finer-grained control than others. Healing magic does, to some extent, though most advanced healers have the help of spirits anyway. But what your mother did—what I believe you will be able to do with practice—is a very subtle art. The magic of one's own body."
She wasn't sure she knew exactly what he was talking about. The closest thing she knew to anything that sounded like it might be magic of one's own body was the sort of thing Cyrus had used to do, the kind of thing Saraya must once have done: the magic of the arcane warrior or the knight-enchanter. Come to think of it, she'd seen Harellan using weapons conjured from the Fade as well.
“It's not... not the same as what you do, is it? Because I don't think I could really do that."
"A little of it is the same. Most of it is not. As I said, it's a subtle discipline. But if you learn it well, you'll be able to use the Fade to make yourself stronger, faster, and more resilient. With enough time, it might be possible to extend such protections to your allies as well. Slow the rate of bleeding. Sharpen your senses for short periods, things like that. The flashy lightning and such can be left to others. You will not need them to succeed." Harellan caught her eyes. "You can do this. I was confident before, but I am certain now. I can teach you to do this, if you will but consent to give the learning everything you've got and then some."
She was hardly in a position to say no. She wasn't sure she'd want to, even if she were. He seemed so... sure of this. And she, well, she was sure of the necessity, anyway. And he was only asking for her effort. That much, she knew she could give.
“All right," she said, nodding firmly. “Just tell me what to do. I'm in."
It was a nice thing to be reminded of, when every day with the Inquisition tested her in new ways. Estella knew she was changing. She knew not all of it was to be feared, even, but she did sometimes wonder if she'd even recognize herself when all of this was done. And then she started to wonder if she wanted to. But there were things from her old life that she wanted to hold on to, things that kept her steady. And silly as it was... she was grateful for the physical reminder that she was more than just the Inquisitor, because it sometimes felt like this was swallowing her whole being.
Sliding her sword into her belt, she settled it in place, checked that her lockpicks were safely secured in the tight braid that wound around the crown of her head, and her new stiletto knife was in the smaller sheath on her lower back. She'd lost the last one to the cave, but it was easily replaceable. Less typically, she'd slid a whole carrot up one of her sleeves at lunch. Everything seemed to be in order, so she departed, heading out of her office and the keep proper with purpose.
The first snow of the year had fallen the night before, cloaking Skyhold in a thin blanket of white. Already, the soldiers had scraped it off the stairs and main pathways, but she found herself walking slightly off those just to feel it crunch under her feet. Though it was a sign of a long winter ahead, she didn't mind it so much while the weather was still at least a little bit milder. Her feet carried her towards the stables and she paused only momentarily to return a few greetings along the way. She'd been taking it easy since she made it back to Skyhold after following Ves to the Hinterlands about a week and a half ago, but Asala had given her a clean bill of health yesterday, including her arm, which was a little sore still, but fully mobile.
The stable door was open as usual, and she ducked inside, first finding Nox amidst the rows of horses. She clicked her tongue, smiling at him when he poked his large head over the half-height stall and whuffed gently. “Hello, friend," she said softly, reaching up to rub his brow, sliding her fingers down to his velvety nose. Shrugging the carrot out of her other sleeve, she offered it up to him, snorting inelegantly when he took a big crunching bite out of it. “Don't act like they never feed you. I know better."
Nox ignored her with all the dignity of a prince, of course, and it didn't take long before the carrot was gone. Estella rubbed at his ears, tilting her head to the side. “Don't suppose you know where Harellan's gone, do you? He's the elf who takes care of you now." She hadn't seen him on her way in, but the stable complex was large, and he could feasibly be anywhere within it.
"He's a magnificent animal." Apparently, Harellan had been close by after all, though it seemed he'd only just arrived. He smiled at her, a bit uneasily by the look of it, and stopped a good six feet from where she stood, almost as though he were afraid of getting any closer. He was dressed not terribly unlike the other grooms and stablehands the Inquisition employed, save that his green tunic had the same teardrop pattern on the sleeve as his armor had in the same place. The length and odd style of his hair marked him as immediately unusual, though. "Very intelligent, too. May I ask how you came to be partnered with such a creature?"
“He was a gift," Estella explained. “I'm part of a mercenary company, or was, before all of this. The Argent Lions. Our commander is a chevalier, or used to be one. It's customary for him to give his lieutenants a horse of their own, when they're promoted. By then we've learned how to ride, of course, if we didn't know already." She wondered if it was her fault, that he was so hesitant to approach her. She supposed it must be—she could have been kinder last time they spoke, or clearer about what she'd meant.
Estella pursed her lips. “Um... you don't have to stand all the way over there, Harellan. Or avoid me. I might not have said it right, before, but I'm not... I'm not upset because of what you told me or anything. I just... it was a lot to take in."
He seemed visibly relieved, taking a few more steps toward her and stopping within a distance that was still polite, leaning sideways into one of the other stall doors and crossing his arms over his chest. "I—forgive me. That's good to know. It had been so long since we spoke. I almost feared that you were..." He paused, clearly searching for the words. "Displeased. To have learned that your father was an elf. Few would understand. Fewer would be glad of it."
Estella's eyes rounded. “You thought—no!" Flinching at her own volume, which had raised considerably for her at least, she shook her head emphatically. “No. No, it wasn't that at all. I admit, it was... surprising. I'd never really considered the possibility." She exhaled softly through her nose, rubbing at Nox's ears as he leaned his head down to sniff at her pockets for more treats. “No one—no one talks about that kind of thing, is all. Not in Tevinter, not—anywhere."
In retrospect, it was a stupid reason not to consider it a possibility. She'd always figured that the reason no one would discuss her father was because he was some kind of shame to the family, but that had always been a hypothesis about a noble's daughter and a common laborer, merchant, or slave. Something like that.
“I want... I want to ask you about them," she admitted. “I want to know more about them. As much as you can tell me. But there's something else I have to ask you first." Something more urgent, immediate. Necessary.
Any remaining trace of tension left Harellan entirely; he smiled much more fully, now, and it brought a spark to the green of his eyes that wasn't wholly unfamiliar. They way they narrowed a little more at the outside edges like that—Cyrus's did exactly the same thing, on the rare occasion he smiled so widely. "And I would be happy to tell you of them, when you decide you wish to hear. What is this other thing you wish to inquire about?" His tone had a certain kind of patience to it, suggestive of the fact that he had a good guess, but was refraining from making it to let her explain herself.
She appreciated that. It probably wasn't difficult to tell, but there were some things she wanted him to understand first. “About a week ago... I found myself in a position where I didn't have any weapons, and my allies were incapacitated," she said slowly. Even thinking back on it was unpleasant, to say the least. Estella knew she couldn't afford to be that much of a liability ever again. And if that meant she had to go back to the very first disappointment of her young life and try again, well, then that's what she'd have to do.
No one was going to die because she thought something was too hard to learn.
“I've never learned more than the basics of magic," she continued, figuring that this information would be at least a little useful. “I've never had issues with accidents because it's not even strong enough to cause them." She'd seen what Cyrus did, that first time he cast, and the aftermath, and been so afraid of doing the same that she'd actively tried to avoid anything that seemed like it might trigger it. She recognized that as rather too much ego, now, but at the time she'd just thought that was how magic worked.
“I never seemed to get much better with lessons, or even lyrium, really. Even now, half the time my fire isn't strong enough to reach the target. But... if you think you know how I can make it better, then I want to try. I have to try." There was no escaping the necessity of it.
"Then we will try." Harellan didn't seem at all daunted by her words, almost as if he'd been expecting them. "We could begin right now, if you are not averse. I believe there is an area of suitable privacy not far behind this building."
Estella nodded, grateful that he wasn't insisting on how well things were going to go. She didn't like to build up confidence in things like that. In fact, it was close to the thing she hated most. “Lead the way; I've got the whole afternoon, if we need it."
"Excellent." He seemed to mean it, turning at once on his heel and taking them out the side door. It was a ways further before they managed to find the space he'd been speaking of, but it did seem to be mostly cut off from outside view, by hedges and retaining walls, mostly, though one side of it was edged by part of Leon's tower.
Harellan turned to face her, then, tilting his head and blinking. "They tested you for affinity, didn't they? When you were first learning?"
“They did," Estella replied, shifting a bit uncomfortably where she stood. These were not her favorite memories, to be sure. “I... didn't really register very well on any of the devices, but I think they could at least tell when I'd touched the arcane one. Practically... I guess fire comes easiest, most of the time." It was hardly anything she'd call an affinity, though, just what she had the most practice with.
Harellan nodded slightly. "Conjure a magelight for me? Just a small one."
Estella wasn't sure what purpose such a basic spell would serve, but he was the teacher here, not her, so she complied. Raising her left hand to waist-height, she turned her palm up and concentrated, forming a small sphere of blue-purple light and letting it float so that it hovered benignly between them.
He crossed his arms loosely, humming. "Can you change the color? Green, perhaps?"
She furrowed her brow, but shrugged. “If you want me to." With a thought, she shifted colors until it was a bright emerald green. She suppressed a grimace. Of course that was the color that came easiest to mind.
"Ha. As I thought." Harellan seemed to find this development much more exciting than she did, rocking onto his toes before setting his heels back down on the ground. "You think this is trivial, don't you? It isn't. Most mages conjure lights in only one color, the default color of their magic, if you like. For example, Cyrus's were light blue. Mine are green." He raised both eyebrows at her. "Doing something like this, though, changing it—what seems so trivial to you would be highly difficult for many. Do you know why?"
She shook her head, almost taken aback by his apparent enthusiasm. “No, why?"
"Because it requires several very important skills. First of all, the ability to isolate one aspect of a multifaceted spell. Changing the color but not the brightness or the size is a work of great delicacy, something that most mages never bother to develop, or never can. That in itself also demands intelligence, intuitiveness, and a formidable amount of self-control." Harellan seemed quite satisfied by this, waving a hand to indicate she could dismiss the light.
Estella found it difficult to contain her skepticism. “It's not... really that important, is it? It's just a little light spell." She couldn't really imagine that it said that much about her at all. Cyrus could have done things like this in his sleep, probably. Well... bad idiom choice, considering, but still.
Harellan snorted softly. "On its own, no. Simpler spells are simpler to manipulate in this way. But it's a good sign. Some types of magic require finer-grained control than others. Healing magic does, to some extent, though most advanced healers have the help of spirits anyway. But what your mother did—what I believe you will be able to do with practice—is a very subtle art. The magic of one's own body."
She wasn't sure she knew exactly what he was talking about. The closest thing she knew to anything that sounded like it might be magic of one's own body was the sort of thing Cyrus had used to do, the kind of thing Saraya must once have done: the magic of the arcane warrior or the knight-enchanter. Come to think of it, she'd seen Harellan using weapons conjured from the Fade as well.
“It's not... not the same as what you do, is it? Because I don't think I could really do that."
"A little of it is the same. Most of it is not. As I said, it's a subtle discipline. But if you learn it well, you'll be able to use the Fade to make yourself stronger, faster, and more resilient. With enough time, it might be possible to extend such protections to your allies as well. Slow the rate of bleeding. Sharpen your senses for short periods, things like that. The flashy lightning and such can be left to others. You will not need them to succeed." Harellan caught her eyes. "You can do this. I was confident before, but I am certain now. I can teach you to do this, if you will but consent to give the learning everything you've got and then some."
She was hardly in a position to say no. She wasn't sure she'd want to, even if she were. He seemed so... sure of this. And she, well, she was sure of the necessity, anyway. And he was only asking for her effort. That much, she knew she could give.
“All right," she said, nodding firmly. “Just tell me what to do. I'm in."