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"MAMAE!"
Fire surrounded them, spreading along the wooden fence towards the buildings. Someone was screaming, trying to put it out but Briallen could not see who. Her eyes were fixed on the unmoving woman lying before her. Red flashed before her eyes, blood-stained steel against a silver chest plate emblazoned with a flaming sword. The air felt tight, as if she couldn't breathe.
Efa. She looked for her sister, seeing another Templar holding her as she struggled.
"No!"
She felt the anger rise in her once more, but her flames would not come. A flash of purple illuminated the sky. The man holding her sister crumbled to the ground. His armour blackened with cracks of lightning.
Briallen gasped. She had not done that. Had she? No. Impossible. She only had fire. Which meant the magic had come from someone else.
"They're both mages!"
Efa cried out, grasping onto their mother's body as the Templars grabbed her.
"No…" Briallen gasped. Her vision began to darken. "Mamae…"
Briallen groaned, the dream lingering still as her eyes came into focus. She sat up rubbing sleep from her pale green eyes, blinking as she focused on the faint sunlight peaking over the top of the pathetic excuse for a window in Anders' room.
"Bri…" a sleepy voice broke the silence. "It's too early."
She looked down at the man nestled in the covers. Blonde hair fanned across the pillow, loosened from his usual hair tie.
"For you." She chuckled, "Some of us actually have things to do in their days."
Careful not to disturb him much, Briallen swung her legs to the edge of the bed, turning to tuck the covers around Anders, the human already fast asleep again. She sighed, the sensation of the dream still haunting her as she rose to wash, braiding her fiery hair tightly and looping it up into a bun. It wasn't often she dreamt of that day, the bitter memory of how they had come to Kinloch hold and the Circle of Magi.
Quietly she slipped from the room, tugging the wraps on her legs into place. With the sun barely rising, the corridors of the Enchanter's quarters were relatively empty, save for the few early birds like her that liked to get the day started.
"Emil." Briallen nodded as she reached the stairs, a human man waiting for her with arms folded against the wall.
"Bri," he nodded in greeting. "Ready to work up a sweat?"
"Who do we have today?" They began to head down, walking towards the training ground.
"Dara." Emil scowled, brushing his dark hair back from his face.
"Goody," Briallen rolled her eyes. If Dara was here that meant it was Cullen who was trailing her sister today. She did not like Templars on a whole, but that one, she hated him just as much as the man who killed her mother. It wasn't that he was bad, in fact he was a saint by comparison to some she had dealt with. It was how he looked at Efa, his gaze following her every move. But it wasn't with ill intent like every other Templar when presented with a 'turbulent mage', it was with a fascination bordering infatuation and she wasn't the only one who saw it. Anders had spent countless hours lecturing Efa on how Mage-Templar relationships should not be, and Briallen was fairly certain she had walked in on Dara scolding Cullen similarly before they had spotted her one time. While Efa assured her she had no intention of crossing that line, she had no trust for the Shem dogging her every move.
Emil pushed open the door to the training room. As always they were first in, enjoying the quiet while they warmed up waiting for Dara to arrive. The Templar entered and moved to the store cupboard unsealing it and retrieving the weapons sanctioned for training.
"You look cheerful Mullen." Briallen twisted her torso, loosening up the muscles as Dara approached, holding out a small golden hilt to her.
"Good morning Enchanter Lavellan." She rolled her eyes at his expected response. "Enchanter Hassler."
"Would it kill you to use our first names?" Briallen took the weapon from him, rolling it in her hand until the grip aligned.
He ignored her, walking to the door and taking up his vigil. She shook her head, turning her focus back to Emil, twirling his staff in hand. They started as always, Briallen igniting the elven blade into a sword, working through basic forms and movements against the training dummies on the far wall. Briallen had been grateful when she had found the ancient blade to be allowed to practice battle magic. A dispensation only reserved for a few mages and under strict guidance. The blade in her hand she had found deep in the Brecilian Forest when she had accompanied a Senior Enchanter's expedition. The blade had been attached to a spirit, one who only spoke in ancient elvish. As the only Dalish mage allowed to move without the Tower, Briallen's presence had been paramount in the expedition. Despite her hot headed nature, words and languages had come to Briallen easily and her stubborn refusal to remove herself from her Dalish roots had done her credit.
She had begged and pleaded to keep the weapon, the Spirit filling her with visions of its use and inspiring her to learn its ways. The Knight-Commander had opposed the request, but eventually First Enchanter Irving had stepped in and spoken for her. With permission she had made several trips back, conversing with the lingering Spirit until she had mastered the techniques. Most of them. She groaned as Emil fired a spell at her, the arcane shield she had attempted to summon shattering and sending her rolling backwards. Thankfully, the training armour she wore protected her from most of the blast. Every other skill she could hold now effortlessly, but a barrier to protect herself? She didn't understand why it was so difficult. She had plenty of barriers around her, she did nothing but protect herself. From the harsh words of the Shem's or the disdain of the Templars, even from Anders and his distance despite the intimacies they shared.
"Enchanter Lavellan."
"You know 'Briallen' or even 'Bri' is much less of a mouthful." She turned to Dara, startling slightly when she saw a man she had never seen before. Briallen straightened up, extinguishing the fiery blade in her hand.
"What did I do this time?"
The unknown man chuckled, Briallen shot him a scathing look. He was almost armoured from head to toe, the style more practical than the Templars' overly shiny steel, Briallen noticed. The metal on his chest was worn, showcasing battle experience, emblazoned with the symbol of a creature she couldn't recognise in that moment. Despite that, Briallen found her curiosity piqued. She studied his face, strong jaw, full beard and dark hair, ruggishly handsome and carrying himself with an air of strength but not arrogance. This man was aware of his own abilities and carried them openly, and she could see him observing her with the exact same intensity she gave him. A warning? A threat? Heat flared in her hand in response which she quickly calmed.
"You are not in trouble." The man raised his hands non-threateningly. "I wondered if you might show me your skills."
"My skills?"
"I have never seen a Knight-Enchanter with such an elegant style."
"I am not a Knight-Enchanter, I am a Dirth'ena Enasalin." She growled her annoyance at him. "I do not bow to your Chantry's stolen forms of magic."
"Forgive me," the man placed his hand on his chest, dipping his head apologetically. "Allow me to rectify my knowledge, would you care to spar with me?"
"Why?"
Briallen narrowed her eyes. Why would this man want to fight her? He looked more than capable, and it wasn't as if she was considered impressive for a battle mage. Especially given that all of the others aside from Emil and herself had been sent already to Ostagar and the growing unrest there.
"Actions speak louder than words."
Either he was good at reading people or he was hoping she would take the bait. Annoyingly she could feel the blade ignite again in her eagerness to wipe the knowing look off his face.
"And how will you fight Ser?" She looked at him. "You know of my skills but yet you have me at a disadvantage.
"A good soldier reacts to any threat." He smiled, drawing the blade from his hip.
"Very well."
She turned to look at Emil who shrugged and slunk away, joining Dara as she took up stance on the mat. She tugged at her chest piece, the padding feeling feeble alongside the stranger's more impressive armour. He gripped his blade tightly, Briallen watched the movement, he looked like he was sprung ready to attack, or was he waiting for her to make the first move. With Emil and the Templars she had sparred with she knew how they moved. This man was unknown to her, she would need to think fast. Or not at all.
She dropped low and leapt towards him bringing her blade around with a strong arch. He parried, easily anticipating the move and turning to counter. She was wary of his empty hand, although he did not carry a shield he held his blade as if he did. But where was it? She continued to trade blows, keeping her sights on his empty hand watching for any sudden movements. He pressed forward, his sword coming towards her, using an opening she had created. When he lunged she smirked, remaining in place just long enough to see the surprised look on his face as she stepped.
She did not have the same skill with the Fade as Efa did, but what she could she had learnt to use to her advantage in battle. She moved through the man's body pulling herself back to strike. But this man was fast, her surprise movement only stalled him for a moment, and she had made a mistake. In a moment of panic she drew on the shield once more, the small dagger colliding with her magic. The blade pierced through shattering the barrier. Briallen flicked the hilt in her hand, extending the metal into a stave, long enough to catch the blade and use its momentum to topple the man over her. He landed with a grunt and rolled back to standing, dusting himself off slowly.
"Impressive." He sheathed both weapons. "Although that shield of yours leaves you vulnerable, if a mere dagger can pierce it."
"I see you've wasted no time in acquainting yourselves?" A new voice cut in.
Briallen tilted her head slightly to see the First Enchanter among the observers of the fight.
"She is quite impressive, Irving." The man nodded. "You'll have to forgive me for seeking her out without introductions. I wished to assess her for myself."
"There was no foul. I can understand your need to—"
"Its rude to talk about someone like they're not there."
Briallen's skin prickled with irritation, with the fight seemingly over with no victor the others had returned to their own practice, but she remained crouched listening as the two men talked over her as if she didn't exist. Her hands were hot, flames threatening to burst free.
"Calm yourself Briallen." Irving stepped towards her, slowly reaching a hand to her shoulder, guiding her off the floor and into a corner out of earshot of the others. "Allow me to explain."
She followed, reducing the staff back to just the hilt, its grip comforting in her hand.
"Well then," Irving turned back to her, motioning to the other man. "Where was I? Oh yes. This is Duncan, of the Grey Wardens."
"The Grey Wardens?" Briallen looked at the man, Duncan, again. Oh. She looked at the symbol again on his chest, the animal registering in her mind. A Griffon. She hated to admit she knew little of the Grey Wardens, aside from the lack of them in Fereldan.
"Enchanter Lavellan." The man bowed his head. "Or was it Briallen you preferred?"
"Briallen is fine." She bowed her head in response, pleasantly surprised with him remembering.
"You know about the war brewing in the south—"
"The one I am not good enough to fight in." She huffed, folding her arms.
"Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."
"Why should I care?"
"Mages are uniquely equipped to combat darkspawn." Duncan looked at her, watching carefully for her reactions..
"I still fail to see what this has to do with me." She was feeling more irritated as they continued. First they had denied her request and now they were throwing it back in her face.
"Patience, child." Irving chided her. "Let us not rush things, perhaps you would be so kind as to escort Duncan to his room?"
Briallen flinched at the sudden topic change. Sighing, she began to strip her training armour off and put it away. She knew that she had reached the limit of what the First Enchanter would tell her. Whatever this man was looking for, she had clearly missed the mark. Would she ever be enough?
"If I must."
"Excellent," Irving clapped his hands together. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I have matters to discuss with Greagoir."
Briallen glared at his back as he retreated. Everything about this exchange had her on edge. If she had failed whatever test, why was she being made to do a Templars job? She cursed under her breath, reverting back to her native tongue as she often did when she was in a mood. She approached Dara, shoving her weapon into his hand without a word and pausing at the door to see if Duncan was following her.
"Why did you hand back your weapon?" He asked once they had stepped back into the corridor.
"I am a mage." She snapped back. She paused, taking a breath, calming herself. Efa always said her tongue could be wicked if she let it run. "We are not allowed to be armed outside of the training grounds. Templar orders. We are dangerous after all."
"That must be difficult for you?" Duncan didn't seem to be offended by her attitude. "Not only that but being Dalish?"
Briallen stopped, eyes wide in surprise. No-one had ever assumed she was Dalish at first glance before. Not even Anders or Karl.
"How?"
"Several things." Duncan chuckled. "Your wraps, being the most obvious. and your title: Dirth'ena Enasalin. Though I am not too proud to admit I know little of the language I can recognise it for what it is when heard."
"You are correct, Ser." They resumed walking.
"Has being a Dalish elf in the circle been difficult?" He repeated his question.
"A little." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Okay a lot."
"It is hard to change perceptions. I have tried to reason with many and failed." Duncan nodded, Briallen was surprised at the sincerity in his voice. "If one has always seen elves as less than human it's hard to imagine them as something else."
"It hurts my sister more when people talk down on us."
"Do not let that discourage you both." Duncan clapped her shoulder reassuringly. "Let it temper you and make you stronger."
They continued up to the next floor in silence, Briallen continuing to wonder about the man. He seemed to be willing to talk, she was curious about him. It wasn't often she met people outside of the Templars.
"Could I ask you a question?"
"By all means." He smiled. "What about?"
"What do Grey Wardens do?" She twisted the fingers in the hem of her tunic. "I confess I know little of the Order outside of their lack of presence in Ferelden."
"Our duty is to battle darkspawn wherever they appear." Duncan answered. "We are elves, humans and dwarves united by this common purpose."
"Elves?" Briallen asked before she could stop herself.
"Some of our most honoured Wardens have been elves." Duncan chuckled at her again. "The hero Garahel, the last Warden to slay an archdemon was one such."
"Seems foolish not to have Wardens about if that is your work."
"The darkspawn threatens everyone." He nodded in agreement. "They do not distinguish between races, and neither should we."
"This is your room I believe." Briallen stopped, hovering awkwardly at the end of the hallway.
"Thank you Miss Briallen." Duncan bowed lightly to her. "For escorting me and for the spar."