[Dragon Age 2] A Burden Too Great
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rose_in_winterCharacters: Leandra Amell Hawke, Vivian Hawke, Malcolm Hawke
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 724
Notes: Written forgenprompt_bingo round 15, prompt "Spells and Geases"
Betas: N/A
Summary: Leandra's daughter Vivian carries a burden she never wanted for her.
The first time her daughter, her baby, uses magic, it's both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing, because the fields outside the village are not always safe, and whatever else may be said about magic, ice is effective at stopping a snake from striking. That Vivian's untrained effort also ruined half a row of pumpkins is a small price to pay for her daughter's life, and Leandra thanks the Maker as she gathers Vivian close, checking for wounds.
Malcolm comes running—he was at the far end of their fields—and halts, looking at the glittering ice in the summer sun. She sees him still, then draw himself up with a steadying breath. "Well now, Vivian my love, what is this?" His voice is gentle and warm as he surveys the damage.
"Snake," Vivian offers around the thumb Leandra thought she'd stopped sucking two years past.
"I see that." Malcolm is tall, and he kneels so he's even with her where Leandra holds her close. "What did you do to it?"
"I dreamed," Vivian says. Leandra automatically tugs her daughter's hand away from her mouth; Vivian resists, but not for long. "There's ice in the dream. I didn't want the snake to bite Mother." She still lisps. Barely old enough to pull the weeds she's shown, and now this.
"A dream, was it?" Malcolm takes her from Leandra. "Let's talk of dreams, then." He leads her a little ways away, talking softly, so Leandra can't hear. It doesn't really matter. Vivian is so much like him; he'll know how to speak to her. He had enough training in the Circle. And this is something Leandra cannot teach her, a burden Malcolm must take alone.
A burden she never wanted Vivian to carry.
She has no time for that; she must think of the packing. They can't stay here, not when Vivian is showing magic. And the twins—she checks their bassinet, but they're soundly asleep, which is all to the good. She doesn't know what to do about the pumpkins to hide the evidence--Malcolm will have to handle that--but Leandra has grown very good at packing since she fled her father's estate. She takes the bassinet inside the house and sets it in the rocker Malcolm made. The cottage is rented, and most of the furnishings too, something she could never have countenanced in Kirkwall. Everything they own will fit in a wagon, and half of it will be Malcolm's books. Leandra wonders tiredly how far they will go this time. She doesn't regret leaving her home, not really, but on a day like today she misses having servants. She misses being safe.
Her father's voice rises in her mind. What did he promise you?
To have, and to hold. To love, and to cherish.
Instead of the yards of silk and lace she'd dreamed of as a child, her wedding gown had been a simple morning dress, the one she'd worn when she left the Amell estate. That dress is long gone, torn for rags or bandages or something else on their never-ending flight. The dresses she has now are sturdy wool. Leandra tucks the skirt into the belt to keep it out of her way, and goes to the bookshelf. She can fit all of Malcolm's books into two trunks, if she's clever.
The first one she picks up is A Short History of Ferelden--not so short, being as thick as her hand is wide, but it falls open to a map. Leandra traces the rivers and mountains with her eyes. Surely there's some village here where they can be safe. Malcolm's work as a scholar and herbalist is worth a great deal, with no need for his magic. If they can teach Vivian to control herself, they can be safe a little while longer.
Such a burden to place on a child: deny yourself and keep your family safe.
They could go south. There is an Arling nestled against the Frostback Mountains. She marks the page and sets the book aside; it's an odd shape, and best suited for packing atop the trunk, in any event.
While Malcolm teaches Vivian about magic and its burdens, she works her own magic to lighten his burden: the simple magic of practicality.
Contains: N/A
Wordcount: 724
Notes: Written for
genprompt_bingo round 15, prompt "Spells and Geases"Betas: N/A
Summary: Leandra's daughter Vivian carries a burden she never wanted for her.
The first time her daughter, her baby, uses magic, it's both a blessing and a curse.
A blessing, because the fields outside the village are not always safe, and whatever else may be said about magic, ice is effective at stopping a snake from striking. That Vivian's untrained effort also ruined half a row of pumpkins is a small price to pay for her daughter's life, and Leandra thanks the Maker as she gathers Vivian close, checking for wounds.
Malcolm comes running—he was at the far end of their fields—and halts, looking at the glittering ice in the summer sun. She sees him still, then draw himself up with a steadying breath. "Well now, Vivian my love, what is this?" His voice is gentle and warm as he surveys the damage.
"Snake," Vivian offers around the thumb Leandra thought she'd stopped sucking two years past.
"I see that." Malcolm is tall, and he kneels so he's even with her where Leandra holds her close. "What did you do to it?"
"I dreamed," Vivian says. Leandra automatically tugs her daughter's hand away from her mouth; Vivian resists, but not for long. "There's ice in the dream. I didn't want the snake to bite Mother." She still lisps. Barely old enough to pull the weeds she's shown, and now this.
"A dream, was it?" Malcolm takes her from Leandra. "Let's talk of dreams, then." He leads her a little ways away, talking softly, so Leandra can't hear. It doesn't really matter. Vivian is so much like him; he'll know how to speak to her. He had enough training in the Circle. And this is something Leandra cannot teach her, a burden Malcolm must take alone.
A burden she never wanted Vivian to carry.
She has no time for that; she must think of the packing. They can't stay here, not when Vivian is showing magic. And the twins—she checks their bassinet, but they're soundly asleep, which is all to the good. She doesn't know what to do about the pumpkins to hide the evidence--Malcolm will have to handle that--but Leandra has grown very good at packing since she fled her father's estate. She takes the bassinet inside the house and sets it in the rocker Malcolm made. The cottage is rented, and most of the furnishings too, something she could never have countenanced in Kirkwall. Everything they own will fit in a wagon, and half of it will be Malcolm's books. Leandra wonders tiredly how far they will go this time. She doesn't regret leaving her home, not really, but on a day like today she misses having servants. She misses being safe.
Her father's voice rises in her mind. What did he promise you?
To have, and to hold. To love, and to cherish.
Instead of the yards of silk and lace she'd dreamed of as a child, her wedding gown had been a simple morning dress, the one she'd worn when she left the Amell estate. That dress is long gone, torn for rags or bandages or something else on their never-ending flight. The dresses she has now are sturdy wool. Leandra tucks the skirt into the belt to keep it out of her way, and goes to the bookshelf. She can fit all of Malcolm's books into two trunks, if she's clever.
The first one she picks up is A Short History of Ferelden--not so short, being as thick as her hand is wide, but it falls open to a map. Leandra traces the rivers and mountains with her eyes. Surely there's some village here where they can be safe. Malcolm's work as a scholar and herbalist is worth a great deal, with no need for his magic. If they can teach Vivian to control herself, they can be safe a little while longer.
Such a burden to place on a child: deny yourself and keep your family safe.
They could go south. There is an Arling nestled against the Frostback Mountains. She marks the page and sets the book aside; it's an odd shape, and best suited for packing atop the trunk, in any event.
While Malcolm teaches Vivian about magic and its burdens, she works her own magic to lighten his burden: the simple magic of practicality.