safeshiptember day 11: magic
was planning to write a lot of fics for the second half of the month because there are a Lottt of prompts i want to do but college feels like it's gonna be pretty busy so idk how many of them i'll get to. but this one was a must do...bernie learns a spell :) inspired by the fact that the first reason-based spell she can learn is blizzard.
word count: 1318
Normally, Bernie would never dream of doing something so utterly senseless and terrifying as following the instructions of a random note slipped under her dormitory door, but the note telling her to meet its sender behind the greenhouse is, to her immense relief, written in familiar spiky handwriting. Despite the fact that they’ve probably progressed past such formality, it’s also signed--just A--probably because they like the dramatics of it all.
And so, at the appointed time, Bernie is behind the greenhouse, to meet her dearest friend.
Antigone greets her with a familiar grin, eyes sparkling. “You made it! Glad I didn’t scare you off.”
“Y--you don’t really scare me anymore, I guess,” Bernie says shyly. “Well. Not really.”
The smile gets bigger. “I consider that a great accomplishment, then.”
“Why’d you send that note? You’re not mad at me, are you?” Despite trying her very best to stay calm, a note of panic pitches itself into her voice before she can stop it.
“No! Absolutely not. I wanted to…the other day, in class, you said something about sometimes wishing you could do the things that people like me and Linhardt do. And I--well, not to brag, but I’ve been told I’m somewhat of a magical prodigy--not that it’s unusual for a Vestra--and I thought, if you’d like it, I could teach you a spell? Just a little one, nothing too scary or extreme.”
“Oh! I--you’d do that?”
Bernie knows a little magic that her mother taught her as a child, but nothing complex, just simple spells that anyone could do--healing a tiny cut, or lighting a torch. She knows she’d never be on the level of any serious mages, but…it is sort of exciting, the idea of wielding a powerful spell. Just knowing you hold that much power in your hands.
“If that’s something you’d like.”
“I--I guess so,” she says, a little hesitantly at first, but she nods her head more firmly, trying to imbue herself with confidence. “I mean. Um, yes, I’d like to try it. As long as it doesn’t hurt or anything--it doesn’t hurt, does it?”
“It shouldn’t if you have a good teacher,” says Antigone, with a reassuring smile.
She smiles back, even if she’s still a little nervous. “I guess I’ll trust you this time, then.”
“I thought we’d start with a simple elemental spell,” Antigone says, in the tone of voice that implies they’ve been spending considerable time coming up with a plan. “They’re usually the easiest for beginners, though harder to master, and they’re the best for people who don’t show any particular sort of magical affinity.”
“I don’t have an affinity? Is that bad?”
Antigone shakes their head vigorously. “No! It just means you’re not from a family that prioritized magical power. Vestras have been dark magic practitioners for generations, and it’s expected of us to…to marry other dark mages, so the magic continues to get passed through our bloodline.”
Their enthusiasm fades when the subject of marriage approaches. Bernie knows they’re thinking about what might be the only thing in the world that scares them. She remembers the last time they talked about this. Hubert’s duty is to Edelgard first, they’d said, so it’s okay if he doesn’t get married. I’m the one who they want to continue the line, but I..the thought of getting married to some man I don’t know, saints forbid bearing his children…I can’t do that. I know it’s not a phase that I’ll grow out of no matter how much my father tries to tell me it is. I can’t do it. Not for my family. Not for anyone.
It was the most serious she’d ever seen them. She wishes she knew how to comfort them. She still does. Despite how similar her own situation is, she’s still so afraid she’d say the wrong thing and ruin her closest friendship. She hopes, somehow, that they can feel how much she cares.
Antigone shakes themself off. “Never mind that. The point is--anyone can do magic, some people just have deeper reserves or more natural power to draw from. It doesn’t mean you can’t learn!”
“Okay. Um. What should I do?”
She holds a hand out in front of her, as if it’ll crackle to life with magic on its own.
“Well, first things first--could I hold your hand?”
“What?” she squeaks, face reddening so fast she thinks she might burst into flames on the spot. Wouldn’t that be a fascinating display of magic.
“To--to share some of my magic with you,” Antigone says hurriedly. “It, um, it helps when you’re learning to have someone give you a little power boost--Hubert did it with me when we were children--never mind, you don’t have to--”
“No!” she says, far too loudly. “It’s okay, y--you can.”
AUGH what is her PROBLEM why is she so NERVOUS about this?? More so than she is about everything else?? They’re just trying to help, why is she so weird about it?
They extend their hand to her. Her mouth feels dry and her face is still hot, but she takes it before she can overthink and run away. Her heart is beating so loud, she wonders if Antigone can hear it.
They’re friends. Friends can hold hands. They do it all the time. This is a completely normal thing that she should be feeling very normal about.
Their hand is a little cold. It helps her think straight again.
“Okay,” Antigone says. “Focus on pulling up your magic from inside of you. Do it slowly, like you’re siphoning water. Feel it travel to the palm of your hand.”
Bernie focuses. There’s a small sparking feeling in her chest, and she gasps at the sudden sensation but tries to keep her mind on it. She tries to memorize it--the way it fizzes, the way it moves, the way it almost hurts but it’s more like a tiny shock, like what happens when you touch carpet. She tries to give it a tiny tug towards her hand. At first she almost yanks it, and squeaks at the sudden burn it leaves behind, almost like the few times she’s tried alcohol (and hated it). Antigone squeezes her hand reassuringly, and she takes a deep breath out. Siphon it. She imagines herself separating off little threads, like she’s embroidering, and moves those threads towards her palm.
“Now cool it down,” says Antigone. “Cooler and cooler, until it’s freezing--and then let it go.”
She imagines swallowing an ice cube. Her hand tingles with the sensation, and before she can hold it for too long, she lets the magic out.
A burst of snowflakes and tiny shards of ice whirl out from her palm, dancing in a sudden breeze. They look at odds with the cheerful summer’s day, but at the same time…they’re beautiful. So much so that Bernie can’t believe she really made them.
Antigone laughs in delight. “You did it! On your first try! I knew you’d be good at this.”
“You did?” Bernie asks, disbelieving.
“Well, I figured you would be. You’re good at more things than you think you are,” says Antigone, and oh, wow, is that smile really for her?
“T--that’s not true,” she weakly protests. “I mean, I do a lot of things, but I don’t know if I’m really good at--”
Antigone snorts dismissively. “Don’t say that. Come on, you can cook, paint, write, embroider, you even craft your own stuffed things! And you take better care of the plants in the greenhouse than almost anyone else I know. You amaze me almost every day, Bernie. Really.”
“You’re just saying that,” she murmurs, though by now she’s so flustered it’s barely audible.
They bump her shoulder gently with their own. “I’m very smart, you know. I’m rarely ever wrong.”
She can’t help but giggle at that. It hasn’t even occurred to her yet that they’re still holding hands.
4 notes
·
View notes