#as far as adhlea is concerned vivienne is some sort of higher being; she does magic *and* has a cool sword??? sign her up

[shivunin]

For @greypetrel's prompt "Witch Hazel (a spell)" for Emmaera (thank you again, Arja c: ) (~750 words):

“I don’t know what to do with her,” Emma confessed, pressing her hand to her forehead. 

The two of them sat in her office, the ocean making music outside of the window, the books orderly as a regiment on the shelves. Vivienne regarded her for a moment, then tilted her head. She still wore her headdress, its sharp points catching the afternoon sun. 

“Darling,” she said, “you know quite well that being a mage does not preclude learning the arts of war. So she does not want to use a staff; very well. Present her with other options and allow the girl to choose. If it is her choice, she will feel that she has won and cease fighting you over her own nature. It is quite simple.”

“But—” Emma cut herself off, thinking. Her fingers tapped a rhythm against her temple and Vivienne waited patiently until she spoke again. “Alright. What do you have in mind?” 

Half an hour later, the three of them stood in the courtyard. Vivienne swung her spirit blade one last time, tucking it into her belt even as it faded from existence. Adhlea watched with wide eyes, her arms wrapped around herself. When Emma had told her daughter that Vivienne would be showing them a spell, the girl had slumped along behind her to the courtyard, clearly expecting another lesson she had little interest in. This display had surprised her. That much was very evident. 

Apprentices whispered to each other around the periphery, for the Grand Enchanter never gave lessons if she could help it. Adhlea, curls bound into a kerchief, regarded her with a touch of hero worship in her eyes.  Vivienne surveyed her in return. 

“Very well,” she said, and produced the hilt of a sword from her pocket. It was very small, sized for a child’s hands, and Adhlea’s eyes fixed on it at once. 

“Your mother tells me that you have experience with a wooden practice sword,” Vivienne went on, and raised an eyebrow when Adhlea would have answered. Adhlea pressed her mouth together and nodded once. “Very good. This is not a practice sword, little Lavellan. It is a real weapon. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Adhlea paused. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, what is the danger with a weapon?”

“I could hurt myself.”

“No,” Vivienne said, and the hilt gleamed in her hand, though she hadn’t called magic to it. “You could hurt others. Look at your mother.”

Adhlea did so, her little face solemn, and Emmaera looked back. 

“Your mother is one of the strongest mages I have ever met,” Vivienne told Adhlea. “If you threw fire at her, she could unmake it at once. She could draw up a barrier to shield you both if someone tried the same. You cannot hurt her; not now. But a sword cuts both ways. If you are not careful when you touch it, when you swing, you could hurt yourself, yes. But it will hurt you far worse, my dear, if you hurt someone else. Not everyone is a mage of your mother’s caliber. Your father, for example, would be badly hurt if you swung without care. Am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Adhlea said in a small voice. 

Emma pressed her lips together. She had been very, very careful to make sure that her daughter was not afraid of herself, nor the magic she held. In Lavellan’s opinion, shame and fear were half the reason human mages struggled so badly against demon possession. But Vivienne was right: if Adhlea was to learn this sort of magic, she needed to respect its dangers as much as she delighted in its possibilities. Cullen had told her much the same about teaching her to fight with a sword of steel. 

“I am going to hand you this now,” Vivienne said, still as composed and regal as if she were giving a speech to a queen, “if you drop it or use it before I tell you, you will not get it back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Adhlea said, and pulled herself up into a posture resembling Vivienne’s. 

When Adhlea was allowed to call the blade into existence at last, Emma watched joy leap across her daughter’s face and knew that she had been right to bring this to her friend after all. Vivienne, the smallest of smiles curling at the corner of her mouth, caught Lavellan’s eyes and nodded. 

Present her with other options, Vivienne had said. How glad she was that this was an option at all.