Continuation of the backstory of my OC Seònaid "Nicoletta" Earrach, previous chapter of which is the story called A Fiery Beast.
A/N: I'm posting this as a separate piece because of the major time gap between the story I already posted and the one that is to come and the relative unrelatedness of the individual stories' topics.
She has never felt at home in the Circle, her guilt followed her every step of the way and the Templars were always watching her even more intently than they did the other mages. She was a murderer and therefore a danger and she felt even more threatened as the day of her Harrowing was drawing near.
The Templars wanted to make her a Tranquil, to stop the madness she was. She agreed with them to some extent—she was a danger, an uncontrollable force, not because she was a mage or that she was a pyromancer, it was because of her quick temper and the many weaknesses that the demons were drawn to her; yet she did not want to become a compliant empty sack of flesh, a mindless labourer, even though it would rid of her regrets.
"The girl is a danger," she heard the Knight-Commander yelling through the closed door of the First Enchanter's office. "By allowing her to go through the Harrowing we are taking risk of her going rampage and slaughtering us with her fire. The Rite of Tranquillity is the only solution!"
"I have already decided," the First Enchanter spoke, steadily and calmly. "The girl is ready for the Harrowing and she will succeed in harnessing her powers, I am sure of it, be the Maker my witness in this."
"If I may speak," woman's voice spoke, it was familiar and she recognised that it belonged to Senior Enchanter Wynne, her tutor. She was obviously granted permission to speak for she continued: "Nicoletta is an excellent healer and has shown remarkable skill in working with barriers and other supportive spells. She is also a good person with no wish to do harm; if we lose her to the Rite of Tranquillity because of disputed instability of her temper we might lose invaluable help should the need arise."
"The girl has not killed anyone since the incident that has brought her here, I'll give you that much." the Knight-Commander nodded.
Nicoletta was furious; he spoke of her as if she were a merciless beast ready to slaughter anyone at her sight.
Chan eil sin ceart! she thought to herself, but the flames swirling around her fingers were quick to remind her that there was indeed a truth to his words.
"Listen to yourself, Gregoir," Wynne chastised the Templar. "It has been years since the girl was taken here. She was but a child, frightened, not in control of her powers. She is not at fault!"
"Of course," Gregoir agreed. "It was the fault of the fool of her father who decided to hide his children from the place they belonged to. Without his stubbornness none of it would have happened; the boy would still be alive and a man grown now."
This was too much for Nicoletta to bear; she walked away, her steps quick and heavy, her eyes all ablaze. They could spit on her name all they liked, but no one would talk ill of her father, the one person that was dearer to her than her own life. Her family was none of their concern.
"It is decided," Irving silenced both of them. "The girl will go through the Harrowing to become a full-fledged member of the mage society."
They came for her in the middle of the night, Templars dragging her from her bed; in their eyes, Nicoletta could see the resentment and fear.
They really think me a monster. she sobbed inside.
She was led to the top of the Tower, just walking the endless sets of stairs a trial in itself, by the time they had finally reached the Harrowing chamber she was half asleep and fatigued. What awoke her was the familiar smell of lyrium. Her head began throbbing and she could barely hear what the Knight-Commander and First Enchanter had been saying.
Enter… the Fade… fight… demon… survive… return… fail… take too much time… bring the demon… beyond the Veil… die…
That was all she heard of their speech.
So, she thought. It is either this or death. And I will not die today.
She woke up in the barren wastelands that were the Fade. No flowers, no grass, no sky, no bird's song to stir the air, nothing but an empty void and scaly ground and a spine-chilling whisper coming from the shadows.
"Seònaid." a man's voice spoke, "I am glad to see you again, lass." and a ghostly hand touched her shoulder. Or what she believed to be her shoulder—she realised that her form was as spectral as his.
"Da?" she exclaimed, recognising the voice and spirit's face. "I thought I would never see you again. Oh, da, how much I have missed you."
A cold ghostly hug was shared between long lost daughter and her father. Or was he really her father?
There was something oddly secretive about him, his long black hair braided in a way he never wore, the dark depths of his eyes sporting an unnatural spark.
They talked for what seemed to be an eternity, yet there was something odd about his speech. He never gave her a satisfying answer, nor did he talk of mother. And he was colder than she remembered him to be as well, not one emotion was shared between him and his daughter in spite of how close they used to be; his joyous nature and his humour were altogether lost. Even his voice did not carry the tune she knew from her childhood and the sound of it sent shivers down her spine.
It was as if he were mimicked by an actor who did not know the role too well.
"Stay with me, child. We can be together again, you, your ma and I." he told her, luring her into temptation, black eyes crackling with unnatural blaze.
He caught her off guard, full of doubt, yet also full of yearning for the presence of the one person most beloved by her of all the people on Thedas.
"I…" she stuttered, knowing not what to say, decision balancing on a blade's edge as some Starkhaveners used to say.
"Don't listen to it, lass." another voice spoke up, this one warmer and more familiar. This was the voice she remembered, the voice that used to tell her stories of knights and witches and mighty battles and the bravery of Starkhaveners. Currently, the voice was filled with roaring anger. "Demons are all liars. I had come to ken that myself."
The voice finally took form as her father stepped out of the emptiness that was the Fade's substitute for sky. Nicoletta recognised the spectre to be the true spirit of her father at once. He wore his usual steel mail with a small Earrach crest painted onto his cuirass—a grey crow, black winged on cerulean field; and a grey cloak held by a silver brooch in shape of a thistle. On his back, a silver claymore was strapped and words engraved in its bright blade—Ceartas, creideamh, fìrinneachd, feirsidh. Justice, faith, loyalty, strength. The Earrach words. Words Alasdair the Greywing spoke to swear an oath of allegiance to the Vaels when they overthrew the tyrant of a self-proclaimed king Ironfist together.
The demon then took its natural form, revealing itself to be Desire.
The Fade is a realm of imagination and imagination is a weapon. Bearing so in mind, Nicoletta imagined having her staff and Dileab—priced swords in possession of her family—in her hands, and appear they did, just as she desired. She set the sword aflame while her father took his claymore off the straps on his back.
"I prefer a fair bargain to a fight." the demoness exclaimed, trying to avoid the slaughter she was prone to perish in. "I can offer you many things, sweet little thing; riches, beauty, love, pleasure, even wisdom should you desire it."
"I am in no need of things you might have to give." Nicoletta spat.
"Not even your father's life?" the Lady of Desire laughed. "My, my, such a selfish thing you are."
"Da?" the petite blonde turned to her father, her eyes questioning him. "What is she talking about?"
"She has lured me here in my sleep, whispering of peace and giving me my family back, and has had me trapped here ever since." he said. "Filthy deceiver, she, that's what she is."
"I have been keeping your father alive." the demoness offered them a crooked smile, a sardonic grin to mock them with. "If you kill me, he will die."
"Who cares!" her father shouted. "I have not opened my eyes for a long time now; I'm as good as dead already. I have lost all of my family; I have nought more to lose."
"And you say this in front of your own daughter. Tsk, tsk." the demoness laughed. "What about her and her brother and Alec—that faithful squire of yours. You have so much more to lose and you would give it up willingly?"
Nicoletta was quiet, trying to gather the thoughts scattered by the tension of the moment. The demon had an alluring voice and was offering to reunite her with her father, the most tempting offer surely.
"Don't listen to her shite, Seònaid. Remember what the Chant of Light says."
"Blessed art thou who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous the lights in the shadow, in their blood Maker's will is written." she recited.
"Aye," Kenneth nodded.
"I spit on your imaginary deity, petty humans. This is my domain, I am the God here!" the Desire shrieked as she conjured several doppelgangers of herself, all five of seductive demonesses sending ice and foul magics towards them.
"All right, this is going to get a wee bit complicated." Nicoletta stated.
She had barely finished the sentence when she heard her father roar: "Earrach gu bràth." and charge, slashing at the nearest of demons.
"Da!" Nicoletta shouted. "That's the wrong one. Fighting the doppelganger grants her time to regenerate her strength." Nicoletta studied the demons surrounding her and her father more closely, searching for a clue as to which one of them was the real one. Finally, she found it. "Da!" she shouted. "Attack the second one from the left. I'll take care of the rest of them."
She whistled while her father kept the true Desire occupied, drawing the attention of the doppelgangers that hurled magic and scratched at her arms, leaving a deep itching cuts that reeked of poison and blood in their wake.
Though stung with a hundred arrows, though suffering from ailments both great and small, his Heart was strong, and he moved on. She thought as her flaming sword sliced through the air and their spectral forms.
She drew glyph of paralysis on the ground, using her staff to do so, then fled. As expected, the mindless demons followed her and two of them got caught in her trap, allowing her to concentrate on the other two.
She sent a wave of flames upon them all the while dodging their ice spells, heavy breathing as she did so. The demons did not seem to care that they were all aflame. Nicoletta was growing weary of the fight, but she realised that her weariness was only an illusion, a consequence of the expectations linked to the mortal world. That knowledge poured stamina back in her veins as she began slashing at the demons furiously, decapitating one of them and sending the other flying against the twisted construction of a Fade-wrought stalagmite nearby by unleashing a bolt of magical energy its way.
It was then that the paralysis wore off and the remaining two doppelgangers crept upon her, sneaking behind her back as they did so, yet they were expected and knocked aback by a blast of mental energy—mana in its purest form. She sent another wave of flames their way and hastened to finish the demon that lay sprawled on the floor after she sent it flying across the room with no walls. Dileab easily found the place where a heart would be, had the demoness been a human being.
The two that were left were at her heels once again; Nicoletta spun around, avoiding their claws and as they ran past her, she managed to sever legs of one of the demons, watching it fall to the ground like a straw dummy she used for practice. She did not even bother to fight the last doppelganger; simply binding it in the spell of crushing prison and slayed the legless demoness by trusting Dileab right into her unnatural eye.
Nicoletta smirked, it went better than she expected. But then she heard a man grunting and remembered the very last challenge that she had to face—the true Desire. She saw her father surrounded by the red glyph of curse of mortality. Nicoletta dispelled the malign spell, using the Desire's concentration on her father as an advantage and charged. It was far too late when the demoness took notice of her and a mere blink of an eye later, she found herself missing her head as Nicoletta cited the Chant once more: "And down they fled into darkness and despair!"
Out of old habit she cast a healing spell upon her father although there was no need to heal the spirit. He was panting heavily, yet chuckling; it was only then that Nicoletta realised how much she missed that hearty laughter of his and found herself smiling as well.
"That was very nice show, my wee lass." he grinned, tapping her back and pulling her into tight hug right after. "You indeed are worthy of the name Earrach, a true warrior. I'm proud of you."
"You taught me well, da." she smiled back, holding tightly onto the tall muscular man that was father and role-model.
"Aye, it would seem so." he nodded. "But now is time to wake up."
"But—" Nicoletta tried to protest.
"They will kill you if you take too long, remember? Craven bastards." he reminded her. "I'll stay with you this time, I promise. You freed me, after all."
And in the blink of an eye, she woke up a Templar great-sword poised over her like the sword of Damocles, ready to be thrust trough her heart.
"She's waken up." the surprised Templar that was to be her executioner exclaimed.
"Yes, I have." she confirmed his statement. "Now, could you please remove this?" she pointed to the sword. "It is a wee bit heavy and blocking my view."
"What did I tell you Gregoir? The girl was successful." First Enchanter smiled.
"It was at the last moment, one moment and it would have ended differently." the Knight-Commander grumbled.
"Indeed." Irving nodded.
Nicoletta tried to get up, but her body felt heavy after the ghostly buoyance of the Fade. Her head was a-throb and her legs were failing her, but a happy smile was playing across her features. Outside of the Harrowing chamber—on the many stairs leading to the top of the tower—her brother Niall, already a harrowed mage, was waiting on her.
"How it went?" he asked anxiously.
"I saw father, Niall, he was there with me, talking to me; we were fighting the demons together." she chirped. "He told he was proud of me."
Niall mussed her hair and she chastised him for it, then they playfully sparred right there on the stairs and almost fell all way down in the process. It was Nicoletta who had won their little battle, having yet another reason to grin like a fool.
A week later a letter from Alec Claidheamh, her father's squire, came with the message of her father's death.