Chapter 10
Tirdas, the 21st of Frostfell, Year 201 of the 4th Era
Mirabelle seemed amused as if this was all some kind of joke to her. "Brelyna Maryon of House Telvanni, allow me to formally introduce your new roommate, Daenerys Targaryen, the Unburnt."
While Daenerys was still a little taken aback by the exuberant greeting from Brelyna, old lessons on etiquette had her responding automatically. "A pleasure to meet you, Brelyna Maryon of House Telvanni." She gave a slight nod of respect. "And while you are correct that I am the new senior novitiate, I'm not actually a Nord."
"Really?" asked Brelyna. "With round ears and hair that pale? What are you then?"
"I prefer not to talk about it," responded Daenerys tartly. If they were going to be living in close quarters, better to head the questioning off.
"I meant no offense. I know what it is like to have a past that you would rather leave behind."
Mirabelle laughed. "What did I tell you? Two peas in a pod. Brelyna, I'll leave you to fill in the responsibilities of a senior novitiate." She then walked away.
Daenerys studied her new roommate. Gerdur had described the Dunmer race as serious, distrustful, sarcastic, and deceitful, yet very loyal. Irileth, Jarl Balgruff's housecarl, had certainly seemed to fit Gerdur's description. Aranea had been both serious and loyal, and also blunt. She had also been kind and even laughed. Brelyna seemed cut from a different cloth. Openly rude, then contrite. She also seemed quite young, but she must be an adult to be deemed a senior novitiate.
Brelyna stepped back out of the doorway. "Well, come on in. Is that backpack all you have in the way of possessions?"
"Yes," agreed Daenerys, as she stepped into the room.
Two small beds lay on opposite walls, both laden down with furs. Several large wardrobes stood along the walls. There were two desks and several chests in the room. A folding privacy screen hid part of the room, and wet footprints indicated that the room must have a bath of some sort, a luxury beyond most citizens of Skyrim. One side obviously belonged to Brelyna as it had books and papers piled atop the desk and shelves. The other side was mostly empty, except for a collection of skulls.
"Make yourself at home," announced Brelyna. "I think my bath is ruined, but I'd still like to dry off better. I'll be right back." She stepped behind the privacy screen.
Daenerys set her backpack down upon what must be her bed, opened it, and started putting her few possessions into one of the chests. "So, why all the excitement about another senior novitiate? And why would my being a Nord, which I'm not, be a cause to rejoice?"
Behind the screen came the sound of water draining. Brelyna stepped back out dressed in a robe. She sat down on her bed and took a brush to her hair. "It's the novitiates," she explained. "Most days I want to strangle the lot of them. Believe me, you'll understand in a few days. I have been looking after nine of the little beasts by myself. Onmund and J'zargo only handle eight boys between the two of them. Which makes some sense. You can't have a man barging into young girls' bedrooms, but I've been looking after all nine girls by myself. The three Dunmer girls are no problems for me. They understand that I look to them to set an example. Esti, or Estiandil as she prefers now, is our one Bosmer novitiate. She's not so bad, even if she does spend half her time mooning over Ancano. And Seen-La, our one Argonian, is the youngest and just as sweet as she can be. It's the four human girls who make me want to pull my hair out. They are always smiles and politeness to my face, but the second my back is turned, they're practicing magic when they shouldn't, ditching their duties, and flirting with the boys when they should be studying. I'm also certain the three Nord girls are bullying Taillour, she's our one Breton. However, I can't ever catch the prissy little bitches at it, and Taillour won't talk about it." Brelyna broke off her rant for a deep breath. She set down her brush and then began to braid her hair, her fingers working with the deftness that came with long practice. "But you're at least human, and you look like a Nord, so maybe they'll listen to you."
Daenerys sat down on her bed. "I came here to learn magic, not tend children. If I wanted to raise children, I could find a husband and raise my own!"
Brelyna laughed. "I've said much the same thing. Welcome to the College of Winterhold. It's a job no one else wants to do either. Certainly not the faculty. Good news, you still spend a lot of your time learning magic. Better news, most senior novitiates only serve six months before they make apprentice. I've been stuck at it longer than most. Aldsi helped me at first, but she left the college to get married. She's a horker hunter's wife now, if you can believe that."
While the thought of a mage running off to be the wife of a horker hunter did sound absurd, so did this entire situation. "Why doesn't the college just hire a matron? I'm sure there are some old widows who have raised children of their own. They would likely be thrilled just to have a warm bed, cooked meals, and someone to talk to." Such a person wouldn't even cost much at all.
"Well, when you become Archmage, you can change that," said Brelyna. "Until then, both of us are stuck as a part-time governess and part-time student."
While it wasn't what Daenerys expected, it was common practice in all professions that apprentices had to do the tedious, dirty, and tiring jobs. She would still be learning magic which made it much better than being a tavern wench. "So, Mirabelle said that we're supposed to give them guidance and supervision rather than magical instruction, what exactly do we do?"
"Master Wizard Mirabelle," corrected Brelyna. "We're novitiates, address the faculty with respect. As to what we do… They're at that awkward age between child and adult. Sometimes they're responsible. Other times, they think with their hormones. We keep an eye on them. We listen when they need someone to talk with. We assign chores or write them up when they're idiots. We do room checks every night to make sure they're in their own beds and not sneaking into someone else's. The kind of thing our mothers did for us when we were that age." Brelyna scowled suddenly. "Or the way our mothers should have done for us when we were that age."
Daenerys frowned. She had no clue what Brelyna was talking about. Her mother had died giving birth to her. She had dim memories of a house with a red door and servants who cared for her, but she remembered begging on the streets of Pentos more clearly. "How old are they?"
"Seen-La, is ten and the youngest. Sofija is the oldest and she's sixteen. She's a Nord and she'll be one of yours. Most novitiates make apprentice before they're fifteen. After that, they're no longer our concern. Their rooms are one floor up and they're judged mature enough to be responsible for their own affairs. When they cause trouble, they answer to their mentors, not us."
Daenerys found this extended childhood to be a bit strange. She had wed Khal Drogo at thirteen. By fourteen she'd been a widow, birthed dragons, and led a khalasar. Still, she'd adapted to stranger customs. While the duties expected of her were still unclear, Daenerys decided it didn't matter that much. "Alright, I'll manage. So, seventeen novitiates, four senior novitiates, and how many others? It looks like this school was built to house hundreds."
"It was," agreed Brelyna. "I've never tried to count, but there are about two score apprentices. There used to be more, but after the Oblivion Crisis and the Great Collapse, Nords have become even more distrustful of magic. When Nord children manifest talent, they're more likely to get told to suppress it, or worse have it beaten out them. That never ends well. Some become hedge mages, others join a temple. It says a lot that Nords are the minority here, despite being the overwhelming majority of Skyrim."
Nords were a lot like the Westerosi in that regard. Magic was rare in Essos but accepted. In Westeros they tried to pretend it didn't exist. It took something too big to ignore like dragons or the Night King leading an army of the dead for them to believe in magic.
"So, do I get to ask questions as well?" demanded Brelyna.
"I prefer not to talk about my past, other than that, ask whatever you like."
"I can certainly understand that," said Brelyna. "Let's talk about your present and your future instead. What magic do you know and what are you here to learn?"
"I can cast Flames and a spell that pushes things. Master Wizard Mirabelle called it a variation of telekinesis…" She paused for a moment. She was hiding so much, perhaps she should reveal something? Extend a little trust to open the door to perhaps being friends and not just roommates? "Don't spread this around, but I can also Shout."
"Shouting," repeated Brelyna sounded impressed. "Yet, you insist that you are not a Nord. Why attend the College instead of going to High Hrothgar and studying with the Greybeards?"
Daenerys smiled as Brelyna was drawn in by sharing her confidence. "Because they're a bunch of old monks who spend their entire lives in religious contemplation. Would you go to High Hrothgar if you could Shout?"
"Well, no," admitted Brelyna. "But, I'm a Dunmer, and Nords only barely tolerate us at the best of times. They'd probably Shout me off the mountain."
Daenerys thought that an exaggeration, but she doubted the Greybeards would welcome a Dunmer into their number with open arms. She decided to shift the subject. "And what kind of magic are you here to-"
Her question got cut off by a loud knocking on the door.
Brelyna rose. "I'll see who it is. Likely our charges or the boys come to meet you." She opened the door. "Ah, I should have guessed. The entertainment has arrived. Come on in. Daenerys, these are our fellow senior initiates, Onmund and J'zargo."
Onmund was a lanky dark-haired young lad with striking blue eyes. While he had the height of a Nord, he obviously shaved as he only had a little bit of dark scruff on his face. It was a good look for him. He broke into a friendly smile. "Ah, good to see a fellow Nord. Few of us choose to follow the path of magic."
J'zargo was unmistakably a Khajiit. He had his hood up which hid his ears, but his face was covered in fur striped white, brown and black. His whiskers stuck out past his hood. Despite his feline appearance, his smirk was obvious. "J'zargo is pleased to meet such a beautiful addition to the College. Ignore the blatherings of my friend. It is obvious that someone as delicate and lovely as yourself is not a Nord. He cannot help that he is not as perceptive as J'zargo. He was not born Khajiit."
Brelyna laughed openly at the remark and grinned at Daenerys. "They can be idiots, but they are amusing ones."
Daenerys found herself smiling and holding back a laugh of her own. The lack of outrage from Onmund and J'zargo spoke of respect, maybe even friendship among the three of them. It felt like she was being included in that. She felt some tension within her relax. She had yet to learn any magic, but she felt welcome here.
.oOo.
Daenerys first met her new charges after dinner. Brelyna introduced her to Sofija, Enja, Matilda, and Taillour. In contrast to Brelyna's depiction of them, all four of them were polite and respectful at least to her. After the introductions they basically ignored that Brelyna was present while Daenerys questioned them about their backgrounds. When Brelyna left after a few minutes, they all relaxed. Apparently, Brelyna's troubles with them were rooted in racial prejudice. That really wasn't surprising with Nords. It was also stupid considering that Nords were a minority at the College of Winterhold. They wouldn't go far with that attitude. Was that something she was supposed to guide them about? If so, she didn't see how. Most people would cling to their customs and prejudices unless forced to change. On the bright side of things, they probably wouldn't cause as much trouble for her as they had for Brelyna.
The next morning Daenerys arrived early for her initial assessment with Faralda. She was quite looking forward to working with the Mistress of Destruction. The classroom was easy to find as it had the flaming hand symbol on the door that was the symbol for the School of Destruction. She tried the door and found it unlocked. Daenerys had been expecting a room with a lot of tables and chairs, what she found looked more like an archery range designed by a mason. Solid walls divided the room into long lanes with targets at the far end.
Faralda was already present sitting behind a granite desk strewn with several books. She nodded. "Good, you're early. Keep that eagerness to learn. Now, have a seat." She gestured to a stone stool beside the desk. "I'm sure you're eager to demonstrate, but I am going to ask you a bunch of questions first. We'll get to the practical part soon enough." She pulled out a quill and scroll. "We will start with the basics. What are the three key elements that must be present in every spell?"
Daenerys felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She had no idea how to answer the question. She had never heard mention of any key elements. Desperately she fumbled for an answer. "Will, magicka, and understanding?"
Faralda frowned deeply. "You are obviously self-taught. What books have you read on magic?"
"None," admitted Daenerys. She hadn't been able to afford them working as a tavern wench at the Sleeping Giant Inn. The cheapest book on sell at the Riverwood Trader would have required her to save for weeks. After Bleak Falls Barrow she could have afforded a book, but it had seemed a waste when the College of Winterhold was renowned for its library. Not to mention that she still had trouble reading and stumbled over words at times. There was a huge difference between being able to carry on a conversation and being fully fluent in a language.
"I see." Faralda sighed deeply. "A true hedge mage then. Very well, explain what you meant by will, magicka, and understanding."
She felt like she had already been judged and found wanting. "A spell requires will, a focus upon what I want to have happen. I also have to gather the…" She fumbled trying to find a word in Tamrelic that wasn't magicka. "… the energy within me or it will just fizzle. Lastly, I have to focus through the… magic of what things are… their fundamental nature. I'm sorry, I lack the proper words in Tamrelic."
"I can see you are frustrated. That's not unusual for hedge mages when they try to explain how they do magic." While the words were sympathetic, Faralda had a commanding voice that just didn't do sympathy well. "If Tamrelic is not your native tongue, what is? I'm fluent in Aldmeris and can get by in a few others."
"I prefer not to talk about my past."
"I don't really give a damn about your past." Faralda paused and then continued more calmly. "What I care about is your understanding of magic. My job is to assess that. Now, what language do you speak?"
Daenerys hesitated, but she had come too far to turn away from the college. "Valyrian is my mother tongue."
"That's… interesting. I've never even heard of that language. I'll admit that I'm curious, but College tradition allows for novitiates leaving their past behind if they wish. If you ever change your mind and want to talk about where you are from, I would like to know."
Daenerys nodded. "I will keep that in mind, but it is not a pleasant story, nor one that I wish to revisit."
"Very well. We seem to have gotten off track. Let's get back to the three key elements of a spell. You successfully named one of them, Focus, sometimes called image or imagination. This is the element that determines how the magic manifests. Without Focus you can set yourself on fire instead of your target."
Daenerys nodded. This part was clear to her. When she called forth magic she had to hold firmly to what she wanted.
"The second element is Will, also called willpower or determination. You must exert your desire upon the world. Will is not magicka, which is poorly understood by most laypeople. Will is applying your strength to focus the magicka in the world around you…" Faralda frowned. "You look doubtful."
"I don't mean to doubt you, but when I cast a spell, I reach inside myself and pull upon my magic."
"No, no, no. That's one of the most common mistakes. Magicka is not something that pools inside us. Magicka is all around us in Mundus, like the air we breathe. The strain you feel when casting a spell is very much like pulling, but you're not pulling from within you. Let's step through this. Go ahead, reach inside yourself and pull – where does it feel you are pulling from?"
Daenerys did as bid. She reached inside as if she was going to cast and pulled magic to her, pulling it in, compressing it… "Oh, I am pulling it in from all around, not just inside me, and then compressing it into a tight bundle so I can push it out."
"Precisely! You exert your Will to divert magicka to accomplish your Focus. And exerting your Will tires you out, just as pushing and lifting heavy rocks will tire you out. Also, your Will grows if you exercise it enough, just as continued hard work builds your muscles."
"Thank you. I never really noticed it was coming from all around me."
Faralda waved a hand. "Think nothing of it. It's a very common mistake. Now, I want to explore the final element of magic. You mentioned focusing on 'the magic of what things are'. Explain that better."
Daenerys smiled. This part she could answer. "Well, when I cast Flames, I focus on the essence of fire, what fire truly is."
"And what is fire truly? What does fire want?"
"Want?" Daenerys blinked. "Fire doesn't want anything. Fire is fire. It's in the heat of a campfire, the warmth of our bodies."
"Yes, yes, but is it hungry, reaching out? Or anger? How do you bridge the gap between Will and Focus to ignite that flame?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't understand what you're asking me."
Faralda seemed frustrated as well. "The three elements of a spell are Focus, Will, and an altered mental state, sometimes called the Seeming. Our minds know how the world works. To cast magic we have to convince our mind that the world works differently. I need to know what you are using to cast Flames. Is it so much anger that fire breaks loose? Is it pyromania, love of watching things burn?"
"I just command that fire come forth…" Oh, wait she was being stupid! "Yol. That's my bridge." She was very careful to merely speak the word and not Shout it, but even then she felt a flicker of warmth on her tongue.
"Yol?" Faralda looked thoroughly perplexed. "Is that Valyrian?"
"No, it's the dragon tongue, I suppose. It's the Shout that means fire." And so much for keeping her ability to Shout secret. Not that she'd expected to keep it secret for long.
"Shout?" Repeated Faralda. "You can Shout?"
"Yes. I only know the two Words, but one is Yol."
"And when you cast Flames, you focus on the word Yol?" she asked.
"Not exactly. If I focused on the word itself, then I would Shout it. I focus on the meaning of the word, on what fire truly means."
"What fire truly means," Faralda repeated speaking as if at a great distance. "Oh dear gods, that changes everything."
