This story is AU and completely ignores Trespasser—I'm actively trying to block out that particular DLC. Most of the events will follow the canon storyline, but there will be alterations made and the divergence from canon will increase as the story progresses. Rating may increase in the future. Feedback is always appreciated. Thanks to everyone who has Favorited, Followed, or left Feedback. It means the world to me.
The Elvhen terms used in the story come from a mixture of sources including my own fevered imagination. Translations of all Elvhen terms at the bottom. Thanks to FenxShiral's Project Elvhen for increased Elvhen terminology and improving my understanding of the Elvhen language.
The use of * inside of quotation marks indicates that the entirety of what is said is spoken in a language other than the common tongue and has been translated. This language will be ancient Elvhen unless otherwise specified.
Dragon Age and all of its splendors belong to Bioware. I gain no financial benefit from this time-consuming hobby.
*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*
Chapter 1: An End and a Beginning
The Seer was dying. Keeper Deshanna had known it was coming and had dreaded this day since the old woman had warned her half a dozen moons before. The Keeper remembered that moment well and, she suspected, would for all of her days.
"I will not see summer again, da'len." Seer Nadahla's voice was soft, but unwavering.
Deshanna shook her head in denial. She had heard too many elders express similar sentiments when the fall winds promised a harsh winter. "Don't speak such things, hahren! You aren't one to be of darkling thoughts."
The old woman reached out with startling speed and seized Deshanna's chin. The Keeper's face was turned gently to face her elder. The Seer was the eldest of Clan Lavellan, older than any elf should be, preserved by her power. She wore her years with grace and her lined face was still lovely. Nadahla smiled softly as Deshanna finally met her gaze. "Tel'abelas, da'len. It is time. I have carried the weight of it for long enough. She is ready. She will bear it better than I ever did."
Deshanna felt the tears threatening to fall and blinked them away. "You have Seen this?" she asked. Nadahla smiled again and tilted her head in agreement. Deshanna nodded. She was too wise to deny the old woman's power. "You know which of them will receive the Sight." It was not a question. Deshanna had always assumed that Nadahla knew. Her daughters were all long dead, but her granddaughters carried the potential as did her great-granddaughters. Their heritage marked the pale skin around their eyes with swirls of shimmering white. More texture than color. Like tracings of frost on alabaster.
"Anaya,"Nadahla whispered. "The Sight already moves to claim her. All will see the signs soon enough."
Anaya was the youngest of Nadahla's great-granddaughters and Deshanna had always considered her to be the most gifted. The girl's magic had come to her when she was little more than a babe, tiny hands tracing the lines carved into an old wooden chest and filling them with frost. Even then she had been unusual—too controlled for a child. In all other ways, she was a younger copy of her cousins: emerald-eyed and fair beneath her ghostly markings, molten copper tresses streaming behind her in the mountain wind.
Clan Lavellan moved north, deep into the eastern end of the Vimmark Mountains. Only a fool of a Keeper would choose such a direction in winter, but with Nadahla dying, there was no choice. Nadahla led them ever higher, far past the hills familiar to the clan. From the beginning, the trip was too easy and game too plentiful. Snow fell all around them, but not on them. The path knew them, it seemed.
Anaya's thirteenth winter passed and the signs came as promised. Her once-emerald eyes shifted in hue to match those of her great-grandmother. When Deshanna looked at the girl, strange feline eyes stared back at her. They were iridescent green-gold with streaks of copper arcing through like lightning in a forest. Deshanna had found such eyes comforting in the past, but those ancient eyes were haunting and unfamiliar on Anaya's young face.
When spring first kissed the land, Nadahla's strength waned. Anaya took her place, guiding them without error along hidden paths she'd never before walked. As spring shook off the final grip of winter, they reached their destination. Andrava's Repose, the ancestors had called it: a hidden ruin in the heart of a mountain. The small vale that led to its entrance seemed enchanted and dreamlike. Lazy fish swam in the winding river at the vale's heart: bright-scaled things not even the elders found familiar. Fruit hung heavy from branches that should have borne none until high summer. Healing herbs bloomed that were unknown in the mountains. "It is safe," Anaya promised them. "Take what is needed."
A few young hunters asked why the clan didn't stay here always. The vale was a window into paradise. Anaya just laughed and shook her head. "It isn't safe always," she explained, "only when it's required." Her feline eyes sparkled with amusement at their wonder, but she did not offer to explain.
The morning after their arrival, Nadahla was truly dying. The entire clan came one by one to pay respect to the old Seer and to thank her for her guidance. Nadahla acknowledged their words with gentle smiles and murmured assurances. The clan whispered their sorrow to the family gathered around her. Her descendants wept quietly, too reverent to disrupt their matriarch's dignity even in their time of mourning. Until the sun set over the mountains, the hours were an echoing symphony of regret. Ir abelas. Ir abelas. Ir abelas.
Only two figures were by Nadahla's side as the twin moons rose above Clan Lavellan. She had sent the rest away. Deshanna, as Keeper, watched the elder she'd revered for all of her days in silence. She was there to remember, not to intrude. Anaya sat at her great-grandmother's side. Her green-gold eyes glowed with fledgling power. Eyes that belonged on no mortal face, Deshanna thought. Or at least not on that of a mortal who walked on two legs instead of four.
"This is yours now," Nadahla's voice was strong as she passed her heir the secret treasure of Clan Lavellan. Andrava's Crown legend called it, the Seer's Crown. The flowing lines of swirling silvery metal reminded Deshanna of willow branches. At its center set an oblong stone that was no color and yet all of them. At rest, it was a colorless window to the metal beneath, but with every movement, bursts of color rippled across its surface—teal and violet, emerald and indigo, fuchsia and cobalt. It hummed with power as Anaya's trembling hands accepted it. The girl bowed her head in respect before she returned her gaze to her great-grandmother.
"Remember, da'len," Nadahla whispered. "Remember that it is a burden as much as a blessing. Until you pass it to your own heir, or you leave this life, it is yours. It cannot be taken from you. Remember, it is not to be used lightly. When you don Andrava's Crown, your Sight will reach into shadows mortals were never meant to know. Never forget that those shadows will see into you as well. In all my years, I've had to call on its power only once. You, ma vah da'len, will not be so fortunate. For that, ir abelas."
Anaya's eyes glittered with unshed tears as she nodded to her great-grandmother. "I will remember," she whispered. Anaya slipped the Crown into its embroidered silken pouch and Deshanna breathed easier as the ancient wards silenced the thrumming of its power.
Nadahla smiled. "Above all else, remember this, Anaya: you are enough. Whatever comes, you are enough. You are here, in this time, because you were the one needed. Ar lath ma, ma vah da'len." Nadahla's eyes drifted closed and her breath stilled.
Anaya took a ragged breath and freed her tears. "Ar lath ma, lin ma lin. Dareth shiral."
For a moment, Deshanna watched the grieving girl in silence. Anaya's shoulders hunched in as tears streamed down her face. It was the sound that finally urged Deshanna to movement—a long, low keen that brought fresh tears to her own eyes and a gasp to her lips. Before Deshanna could reach her, the sound cut off without warning. Anaya raised her head and straightened. Her gaze turned to the Keeper. "Three days," the Seer said. Her face was empty of emotion. "The clan will have that time to rest and gather supplies. Choose which hunters will carry her into the Repose at sunrise and prepare them. They may carry no weapons. As the sun rises on the third day, we must leave this place."
Deshanna nodded her understanding. "Of course, Seer." She paused, hesitant. "Why such a brief time?"
A smile quirked the edges of Anaya's lips, her markings glittering in the moonlight. "Because after that, Clan Lavellan will no longer be welcome here."
*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*DAI*
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Andrava is the forgotten Elvhen goddess of wisdom, intuition, and perception. She was the twin sister of Andruil and the daughter of Mythal and Elgar'nan; Clan Lavellan has long believed that the Seers are the mortal descendants of Andrava, but have kept these beliefs, and the Seers themselves, hidden from other clans.
Elvhen Terminology
Da'len : Literally means "little person" or "little one." Used to mean "child."
Hahren : Respected elder.
Tel'abelas : I am not (sorry/full of sorrow).
Ir abelas : I am (sorry/full of sorrow).
Ma vah da'len : My (dear/precious) child. Term of endearment normally used for a younger family member or an especially prized student.
Ar lath ma : I love you.
Lin ma lin : Blood of my blood. An uncommon archaic term normally reserved for an ancestor or descendant further removed than grandchild/grandparent. The term has special meaning for the Seers and potential Seers of Clan Lavellan who use it as a more general familial endearment due to their supposedly divine bloodline.
Dareth shiral : Safe journey. Used as a farewell.