Chapter Text
She was an inexperienced mage, and that made her dangerous.
In battle she stood beside him, careful not to disrupt his spells but not confident enough to properly wield her own. She knew this about herself, and thus restrained her power. Perhaps this was what the Dalish taught her, that it was better for her grip to be too tight than too loose.
It would not keep her safe, not with the Anchor drawing so much attention from across the Veil. She lacked the inner calm needed to dissuade demonic interest. He hoped, at first, that she could simply learn by example: she was remarkably observant and self-possessed, and perhaps could find the gaps in her training by paying attention to his.
If she did find such gaps, she was unable to mend them herself. Even if he believed she could resist possession, drawing demons towards their position was exhausting them both and would inevitably lead to casualties. He recalled her short, shallow breaths, how her black hair stuck to the shimmering skin of her face, the shudder of magic through her lithe frame and into her white-knuckled hands --and when she fell, as she often did, her hazel eyes shone with guilt as he bent to help her stand.
She did not like being helpless, and prided herself on her reliability and independence. He had yet to witness her response to genuine criticism, and thus waited until she was alone just outside of camp so as not to embarrass her.
"Enaste." She leaned against a roughshod wooden banister overlooking a narrow valley. The Hinterlands was often picturesque, in its way, especially in the fading light of dusk. She turned to him, first over her shoulder, then more fully. The metallic details of her armor took on an orange tint. "May I have a word?"
Her dark brows furrowed, pinching the dendritic lines of her deep purple vallaslin. "Of course." She sounded cautious. The gravel of the path crunched beneath his feet as he came to join her by the overlook. "Is it about the artifact we found earlier?"
He shook his head. "Curious as it is, no. I wanted to know how you were fairing, after so much fighting. Did you train for combat in your Clan?"
She sighed. "No." She turned away from him, towards the valley. Her long, thin fingers gripped the railing. "I was far more focused on learning about magic than how to use it."
"I understand. Yet you have some talent for it. Did your Keeper see no reason to hone that?"
"It is... complicated." She glanced at him, and he tilted his head. "Whatever talent I had did not manifest until I was already trained to be a hunter. Or mostly trained, anyway."
"Truly? You must have been older than most, then."
She nodded. "I had some odd dreams when I was younger, but no one suspected I was a mage until I was nearly ready to receive my vallaslin." He was unfamiliar with magic manifesting so late, even now, and it explained a great deal about her lack of skill. "The mark has made my magic stronger, I can feel it." She opened her left palm, and green sparks shivered to her fingertips. Then she looked at him again, and the intensity of her gaze disarmed him. "I need more training, don't I?" Her full lips tilted into a rare grin and she gestured to a gash in the leather of his armor. He'd earned it catching a blow meant for her. "Or Josephine will have words with me about our armor budget."
He returned her smirk. "I would not be concerned about the armor budget."
"No, I suppose hiring a real trainer will be more expensive."
The smirk remained; he cocked his head. "Why would you need to hire a trainer?" She frowned, confused, and he went on. "You need practice in spirit magic, to avoid drawing excess threats to our position." He held his hands behind his back. "I believe I am fully qualified to assist you."
"Oh." Her smirk did not return. "I... there's no reason to burden you with training me. You have other duties."
The hesitance was unexpected, but understandable. "If you would prefer a different trainer, I could help find one." He had sat by her side and studied the effect of the anchor on her body for hours while she slept, had felt the flow of magic through her and into the mark. He had enough stability in battle to watch her, and had noted her interactions with the rest of the Inquisition. He felt he knew her, but she likely had no such feeling for him. "Even another Dalish mage could be found, I suppose."
Enaste looked out towards the valley. She was silent for a few moments. A gentle breeze stirred the loose locks of hair that framed her face. In this light her eyes were almost green, her face outlined with golden sunlight. She bit her lower lip. He looked away.
"No, you are right," she said finally, her voice surprisingly firm and clear. "You've seen my weaknesses in combat. You are a talented spirit mage." She nodded, apparently having made her decision. "I would be honored if you'd consider training me."
"I require no such formality, lethallan." It was endearing, though. Enaste could be deferential when she wanted to, though she rarely was to their human companions. "We may begin whenever you are ready."
She blinked at him. "Now?"
"Whenever you are ready," he repeated. His lips twitched into a smirk. "But the sooner the better. The Rifts will not wait for you to become more proficient in closing them."
"And I'm sure you're sick of rescuing me."
He opened his mouth, then thought better of what he was about to say and rephrased it. "I --am still here to assist you. But reducing the frequency of the rescuing would be preferable."
Footsteps crunched up the path behind them, and they both turned to see one of the Inquisition officers waiting patiently with a sheet of paper in hand. "Herald, my apologies for interrupting. I have a report on the locations of the bandits you asked about earlier."
"Yes, thank you," Enaste nodded to him. "Later, then." She paused, then smiled softly. "Hahren."
He nodded in response, uncertain how sarcastic that was. She left him by the overlook, the officer's voice drifting into the distance as he kept his gaze on the valley below.