Standing in Her Shadow
Author's Note: I am rewriting the fanfiction Standing in Her Shadow. This is due to personally re-reading it and finding it rushed. As always please comment and give feedback as you, the reader, seem fit.
~For any elven dialog confusion/translation please seek the bottom of the chapters~
Prologue (Before the Rift)
"Come on Talia! Mamae will be angry if we are late for supper again!" I growl, crossing my arms. I cast a glare over my shoulder at my older sister. She struts slowly down the pathway, picking and inspecting her nails as though there is all the time in the world. Her overly crisp sun kissed skin appears to illuminate with the backdrop of the sun setting through the forest. The colors of autumn crisp reds, oranges, and yellows dash each tree with a splash of color, spreading the color across the forest floor. The pathways are a little dry this time of year, scratching the soles of our feet. It is this little hindrance that is making her take fucking forever.
"I highly doubt mamae will be angered if we are a few seconds late." Talia 'tsks' as though she is scolding a child. I roll my eyes, walking forward without the little brat.
" I mean, that one time you did not appear until well after dusk!" She exclaims, her voice dripping with bitterness. "Something along the lines of seeing one of Fen'Harel's agents. A wolf no less to come take dimwitted children away!"
"Okay one, I was five years old and two, just because a wolf saunters close to camp does not make them an immediate associate with Fen'Harel." Talia flicks another finger out, signaling more onslaught from my childish antics.
"Well what about that time you found a 'mysteriously good looking stranger' who 'promised' you fame and fortune should you wed him." I rolls my eyes. 'Is she for real?'
"Again I was…"
"Yes yes I know…a little da'len. Although a shem dear sister is quite in poor taste." To emphasize her point, she gags, sticking her finger towards her gaping mouth.
"Whatever dear sister," I sneer, jogging a little ways up. With a quick flick of my wrist, I hear a sudden gasp followed by a solid 'thud'. She mutters a few curses on her way back up, swearing nature hates her.
'Take that sister dear.' I chuckle. 'When will you ever learn?'
"There you two are! I swear to Falondin you will run me into an early grave!" Our mother stands at the entrance of our camp, her hands holding her luscious hips. Her almond eyes glare menacingly, throwing her baby blues into a storm of grey.
"Ir abelas Mamae," we mutter in unison, tucking our tails between our legs as she ushers us to our tent. She closes the flaps briskly, throwing her hands up. Our Mamae, Rayme, is a woman who most in our clan look up to as the hand next to our clan leader. She had a slightly wider frame to accentuate her curvature with a thick black mane to curl down her back. Her face is angular as many of our people are, however there are the smallest of aspects that hint at a possible inbred origin, although she will never admit it.
We wash our hands and face within a small water basin set up towards the back of our tent next to our sleeping location. Little bits of each person's knickknacks scatter in their designated sleeping area with no real rhyme or reason.
'And to think I use to look up to…her' I shiver, wiping my dripping hands on my tunic.
I am the last to leave through the flap, realizing everyone scurried out while I was spacing out. I stand just outside of the flap, observing. Our clan is small with a maximum of twenty people each with their own knack of skill or trade. My sister instantly flocks to her best friends, sashaying to accentuate her trail. They hand her a leaf filled with various meal items as they begin their chatter. They are all pretty much like my sister, sporting their markings as though it is a beauty mark rather than a draw on. They stand as though they are models with a thin hourglass figure, their tribal clothing a bare minimum of scraps to cover their naughty bits. Sometimes when they see eyes, they stretch down giving a good view of cleavage. The boys often flock to hang around them or admire from afar. Some even daring to ask for a hand in what could be a life long commitment.
Although we are a small clan, we are tightly knit for the most part. Each person, man and woman find someone to talk to whether it be a friend, family, or loved one. There are few who hang around the edge of the forest, keeping watch for anything or anyone from approaching. A few younger kids squeal in delight, their little feet kicking up leaves into the clearing. The adults sit cross legged around the embers, chatting with the days hunt or gossip from the city should they be fortunate to leave.
A hush falls over the clan, their conversation settling into whispers upon my arrival to the inner circle. Eyes pierce the back of my skull, attempting to shadow the feeling of disgust and fear. I carefully make my way to the roasting nugs, feeling the warmth of the fire caress my skin as I approach. I grab one of the wooden skewers, holding it awkwardly as I grab for an apple gathered freshly from the city next to it.
"There is that girl again…"
"Honey do not go near her, she is cursed…"
"Fen'Harel's agent…"
I ignore them and their insensitive gossip. They cower at what I have become, their fear palpable as the day as those little bits of magic sparkled in the palm of my hand. Because of one fatalistic encounter, they deemed this thing to become an isolation and danger to the clan. "Although they are the ones who put me in that type of situation" I mumble bitterly under my breath.
'I do not see why Mamae does nothing do anything about this mess.' I sigh, taking up refuge as far as I possibly can from the people. I sit onto what remains of a patch of active grass close to the outskirts of camp. I see a few birds fly tree to tree while a hidden hare or two scamper to collect in the feast of fallen leaves. A couple of thin trunked trees block some view of the camp like a curtain. As the gamey nug hits my tongue, I munch thoughtfully, glancing around in an attempt to find a particular body. Her flowing robes catch the corner of my eye like a flickering bug in the night. Tucked towards the head of our gathering a particular woman saunters around, her gown reflecting the golden sun off her fiery colors. Wrinkles line most of what use to be her taunt skin, sinking further in when she scowls with disappointment. Her once golden locks have fled and in their stead strands of silver wire. Her face always appears to be pinched in a neutral scowl and one is not sure how to approach in that circumstance.
I stand, intending to head back for a second round of nug when Mamae steps into view. Her face as far as I can tell appears to be taunt with discomfort or anger. I do not know. The conversation between Mamae and the clan leader appears serious and, for a brief moment, I feel their eyes searching for me. I gulp, sinking low as possible to the ground. After a bit of time, I peak in their general direction, letting out a breath of relief.
'I wonder what I did this time to piss them off royally.' I roll my eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time today, laying flat against the ground to examine the sky, nug forgotten. 'Probably for another rumor this stupid "clan" spread about me…yet again.' I extend a hand into the sky, watching the color bounce off my skin. The purple and blue hues begin to run away as the blackness of the sky comes to invade. It brings stars and possible clouds in it's wake, but nothing more. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent of the fall time leaves. I bring my hand down, tucking it away behind my head. The whistle of the wind sings almost of a warning and I fall asleep before I have a moment to process it.
I wake with a jolt to someone kicking my shoulder. Without thinking, I grab at the ankle, throwing the figure down with me. A male roughly around my age grumbles under his breath, cursing in Dalish at his misfortunate duty. "O melana ma thenem" (About time you woke up) Oreldir grumbles, standing up quickly. I sit up carefully, rolling my shoulders at the joint to relieve some stiffness. They pop with a sickening crack, causing Oreldir to flinch. He takes a few paces back in fear.
"Mar mama search sul ma" (Your mother searches for you). The youth turns tersely away, running back to who knows where. I stand, brushing some of the leaves that the wind covered me in.
'Looks like it is time to face the music.' I scrunch up my face in distain. Our people are a little quiet now having the sun completely set into darkness. The moon is high in the sky, illuminating the clearing with a beautiful beam of white. The stars twinkle and shine with all they got, knowing they are being watched. There are little sounds of wild life scurrying around the forest floor from little hares to halla. Everything almost feels a little too…peaceful. The few remaining outside of their tents scurry inside as I pass, whispering curses and hate filled notes. I smile.
I enter our tent, expecting a scolding for mamae, her hands on her hips, lips pursed. I feel my face shift in surprise at the last body I expected to see. The clan leader sits patiently in front of our makeshift table, her hands folded carefully within her lap. Next to her, Talia is dressed in a similar garb of silken robes, the color of roses during the first light of spring. The room holds a tense atmosphere, the clan leader looking pointed at me while Talia keeps her head hidden from my gaze.
"Clean leader…tis an honor to have you bless our family." I begin to babble, attempting to start in good graces. She raises her hand, to which I shut up. I glance around, realizing Mamae is no where to be found within the small room. When raising a questioning brow to Talia, she clams tighter than a virgin, refusing to look directly at me. My gaze slides over the clan leader once more. Those cool, calculating grey orbs bore into my soul as her words, carefully crafted by a word smith, pool out.
"As you know, your sister Talia will begin her training come the next cycle of spring. She will inherit the title 'Clan Leader' when she proves to succeed in the basics of this training." She looks toward my sister, a glow of admiration radiates off her. She gives Talia a small pat of approval.
"That is great news!" I blurt, causing a faint blush to dot my sister's face. The clan leader holds her hand up again, the warmth washes completely off her face.
"Things thus far with building relations and getting general reputation within the clan has…stagnated. People within the clan feel unnerved of your presence around the soon-to-be clan leader. They are beginning to suspect…things." She stands, the sound of her gown sliding down fills the empty silence. I cock my head at her, my brows knitting in confusion. Slowly, some of the pieces of the puzzle come together. My heart beats loudly, deafening the world around me.
"Surely they can get passed that and their insecurities right? I mean I have come to my abilities."
"And it is such of these abilities that in which they fear you." I back up slightly, fear rising like bile from the stomach. Air coats my already dry tongue to a sandpaper consistency. 'Was the room always this warm?'
"What… are you saying?" The clan leader gracefully approaches, her hands on either side of my face. Her touch bites with a shock of cool, calloused fingers brushing the tips of my cheekbones. Her hands hold my face in place as though prisoner under her gaze. There is no warmth in her gaze as she delivers her message.
"As of this moment Amethyst of the Oryan clan, you are hear by banished to never return again." Her fingers brush ever so lightly against my skin. The familiar tingle of magic begins flowing beneath the surface of my skin. It begins to prickle as though it is invading a foreign space. "Your vallaslin shall be removed. You shall be considered a rogue elf not to be taken in by any other clan." A burst of her magic flames my skin; the color in contrast to my own appears red and dangerous. I bit my lip, holding back a scream as the magic scrapes the vallaslin off my skin. Burning beneath the skin, but clawing will not bring it out. It draws out a memory of a fresh kill getting the dagger plunged deep into the carcass, wiggling and pulling meaty bits off the animal. Before the pain became unbearable, her hands pull off my face. She takes a step back, waiting, expecting some sort of rise to occur at any moment. I take a steady breath. Then two. My mana bubbles under the surface, screaming in rage at the inappropriate invasion of another. Anger swims my head, beating along with the pain in my chest.
"So…" I look to my supposed sister, venom dripping off my words. Her gaze remains glued to the dirt floor, shame clearly written on her stupid face. "This is okay for you? For your only sister to be banished from her home? To be sent into the wild and possibly sold to some shem?! THIS IS OKAY?!" My voice hitches at the end, tears of rage threatening to pool over the rims. Talia sits uncomfortably in her seat, but finally locks her storm blue eyes at me. The same eyes of our mother.
"This choice was not made lightly and is deemed what is best for the clan. Please know you will always be my little sister." Talia makes an attempt to show some sympathy on her face, but it all runs together with hurt and betrayal. I scoff.
"It clearly had been made within these passing hours! Don't you dare tell me it was 'not made lightly'!" I mock, shrinking her confidence back a bit.
"And where is Mamae? Surely she would not let this…this… *asha felandaris remove me from my home!"
"That is enough young lady!" Mamae's voice echoes the room, her breaths coming out in shallow pants. I turn slowly towards her behind me, eyes widening. Her posture is tense; her eyes scream to go quietly. She holds the nearest tent flap with one hand, a knapsack in another.
"Ma eolasem?" I whisper, taking a step back. Her eyes never wavier as the words pour out of her mouth. Despite the circumstance, there is no emotion in her gaze nor her words.
"Vin ar eolasem. It is time for you to go child." I look at this woman, the woman who raised me since infancy. Together with this other woman, the woman who is suppose to be my sister. They look similar in features but their eyes tell another story. They are defensive, withheld. They are hiding something but do not admit to yielding in front of their superior. At least, that is what the logical part of my brain is quietly thinking. Betrayal runs deep, clouding any other logical thought.
"Fine. You want me gone? I will go." Anger bubbles and covers bits of my vision as I gather the very few essentials I need which is not much. The woman who I use to call Mamae hands a bag of provisions off her free hand which I hastily grab.
"Dareth shiral" She says in unison with the two other women. I flip them the finger, stopping in the opening of the tent flap.
"Fen'Harel ma halam." I spit out the Dalish curse bitterly as I run out into the night, tears spilling over my eyes. The woods with no judgment engulf me with a warm embrace. In the distance, a lone wolf bellows its cries into the night.
*Asha means woman and felandaris means demon weed. In this context she is literally calling her a demon woman
The rest are from DAI wiki
Mamae means mother/mom
Da'len means child or little one. Similar to an adult addressing a young person
Shem is a wording used by elves referring to humans (a negative term)
Falon'din is one of the Dalish gods who means Friend of the Dead
Ir abelas means I am sorry or sorrow. Used as a common apology
Ma eolasem is roughly translated by lingojam as you knew or know
Vin ar eolasem is roughly translated by lingojam as Yes I did know/ knew
Dareth shiral means safe journey. It can be heard mostly by Solas or other elven people
Fen'Harel ma halam means loosely the Dread Wolf ends you. It is perceived by any elves as a threat