Dreams & Books, Part 3: Settling In

[lenticularstudy]

{Connor and Morgana slowly begin to adjust to life in the Tower, and its people. We also meet Mattheu of Aftermath.}

Dreams & Books

-III-

Settling In

Connor closes the book, still wondering at the significance of the date, and looks up; a few of the apprentices are still unabashedly staring at him, obviously wondering who he is. He tenses, waiting for someone to speak, and then a pale, black-haired, freckled girl smiles at him. He smiles back.

"I'm Lea," she says from her bed, and then stands, walking to him and sitting next to him. She looks down at Practical Healing, frowning. "What's that? Looks like one of our textbooks..."

He nods. "I... I think it is. Do you understand this?" He opens it, handing her the book of gibberish.

"'S for the older years. I'd ask Matt - though he's better with primal than creation. Why'd you have a book you're too young for, anyhow?"

He shrugs. "Morgana gave it to me."

"Who?"

He sighs, not feeling like sharing the whole story yet, and just says, "Another mage."

Lea nods sagely, flicking through a couple of more pages, before halting. "Ooh! I know this, though. Library number." He peers over her shoulder, and she explains, "Look. Shelf, author letter, reference section."

223.A.76, he reads, frowning. "I see," he tries, not really seeing at all, but feeling the need to be polite. After all, he is an Arl's son.

•

Connor's night is almost entirely sleepless, partly because the bed is so unfamiliar (he's sure his mattress was never this hard) and partly because he can hear the other apprentices' whispers.

"Never said who 'e was..."

"'Asn't spoken a word."

"He appears to be from Redcliffe. Certainly has a fishmarket accent."

"Aren't you going to actually speak to him?"

He turns over, not wanting to hear the rest, and screws his eyes shut. When he eventually sleeps, he dreams of his family, of his father backing away from him and calling him a monster, of her crawling through his head, of all he has ever wanted.

He wakes screaming, fists in tangled bedsheets, not knowing where he is, a heavy weight on his head. As he opens blurry eyes, he realises that it's a hand on his head, and that the hand is connected to a worried mage leaning over his bed. Wait - no, an apprentice, judging from the blue robes.

"You alright, kid?" the apprentice asks, dark hair falling into his face. He seems to be much older than the others, tall as a man and speaking like one. He points to the other apprentices, hovering wide-eyed behind him. "They called me 'ere."

"I think I am," Connor replies, gingerly unclenching his fists and frowning up at the apprentice, still wondering who he is.

"Mattheu." The apprentice answers his silent question, holding out a hand - is that a mage thing, shaking hands with ten-year-olds? - and grinning widely. "Matt to all who know me."

The mage Lea was talking about?

He looks round; candles are lit, shadows flickering on the floor, in here and in the corridor. He must have woken everyone. "I wasn't that loud, was I?" he asks quietly, looking at his knees.

Matt shakes his head. "'Ave to compliment you on your lungs, but nope. It's time for lessons."

Lessons? Connor is used to being woken by daylight, and searches for it, until he realises with shock that there are no windows here. Not a one. His throat goes tight, and he has to swallow it down, trying to steady his breathing.

The mage slaps him on the back. "Be seein' you." He looks at something written on the back of his hand and mutters, "Primal, I think."

Lea waves to the apprentice, and he waves back, walking out of the dormitory. She walks to Connor's bed, cocking her head and frowning at him. "Must 'ave been bad when they took you." She spots him looking over her shoulder at where the retreating apprentice had been. "Matt's my brother."

He nods, trying to climb out of bed, and nearly falls over, looking for his daytime breeches and shirt, but is instead greeted with the sight of that strange blue robe. He looks round in confusion, but the others seem to be trooping out of the room. "C'mon," Lea says, gesturing to him, and he does, falling into the line and darting glances at the stone walls, the ceiling, the templars...

They turn down a corridor, eventually coming to two doors; when he makes to follow Lea through one of them, she stops him, laughing. "You're a boy. Door on the right."

He nervously follows the other apprentices; clothes are piled in a small side room, and then he steps into a huge, high-ceilinged room filled with empty tin baths. He moves to one of them and stands, hands uselessly by his side, frowning at it and feeling... stupid. There is a soap and towel, but no water.

He jumps and looks round at a hand on his shoulder. A red-haired boy rolls his eyes and then says in a distinctly Denerim accent, "First day?"

He nods, and the boy waves his arms around, Connor finding himself staring. Ice appears in the tub, and then the boy casts something else. A fire flickers merrily into life below it, the ice melting unnaturally quickly away. He's sure ice isn't meant to work like that, or make so much water.

"Magical fire," the boy explains briskly at his expression, dipping a hand into the water. "Try that." The boy snaps his fingers, extinguishing the fire, and walks away without a second glance, returning to his own tub.

Connor trails a few fingers in the water, finding it pleasantly hot, looks round self-consciously, and sighs, climbing in.

•

After a breakfast in which he'd had to compete with several other apprentices trying to snatch the last couple of bread rolls, he's sent to his first lesson, trailing behind Lea and frowning. "Primal," she says, and he just looks at her blankly. "The elements. Fire, earth, water, air, all that."

A tiny thrill courses through him at the thought of that kind of control - why, mages could take over the world with that kind of power! His heart sinks as he realises that perhaps that's why he's here. It feels more like a prison than a school - no windows. He remembers the look of sadness on Morgana's face when she'd told him, and things begin to slot into place in his head. She didn't like it here, did she?

He's distracted from that thought by Lea giving him a gentle shove towards a door. "You're still a beginner," she explains, almost apologetically. "You'll work your way up soon, yer just came late." She smiles, walking up some stairs and out of sight, and he takes a deep breath, striding into his classroom.

His mother's words echo in his head. He must be confidently and friendly when meeting new people. Confident and friendly.

He stops abruptly as he sees the average age of the apprentices - between four and six. He's studying with babies?

Matt, sitting on a chair in the corner, spots his horror and gives him exactly the same slightly sheepish grin as his sister.

•

Jowan had left Morgana at the door to her first lesson with one last regretful look, and she'd nodded as stoically as a four-year-old could, trying to hold her head up high as she entered the room and nearly tripping over a dropped staff. One of the apprentices hastily picked it up, his pointed ears going red as the Enchanter began to shout at him about being more careful; she recognised the boy as Flora - Florean, she corrected herself.

She stood a little straighter, looking at the blustering mage with the bravery of one too young to be afraid yet. "Please, I wasn't looking, Ser."

The Enchanter stared at her for a moment, and then snorted in contempt. "You're the new one, then. I am Enchanter, child, never Ser. We are not templars, and you would do well to remember that."

She looked down at her feet for a moment, then met his eye. "I wasn't looking, Enchanter."

"It does not matter," the mage snarled. "How he is disciplined is none of your business. With the others. Now." He pointed to the apprentices clustered in front of him, and she nodded once before moving to stand with them.

Flor - ean gave her a shy smile of thanks, and she returned it, turning back to the mage before she could be caught.