Chapter 1 (Prologue): Arrival
Summary: A frightened little girl arrives to Kinloch Hold, the Circle of Ferelden.
A little girl stood on the dock of Lake Calenhad, snuggling her dirty ragdoll, the only thing the Templars allowed her to take. The road was long from Starkhaven to Kinloch Hold, and she was tired. She didn't understand what was happening around her, why her father let these men take her away. She had vague memories of men in the same uniform dragging her brother away a few years ago.
He never came back.
What did she do wrong? She only wanted to help the butcher's son; she always tried to be a good girl and doing what was told. She was her father's little sunshine, and now he didn't even want to see her when these men dragged her away.
The two frightening Templars with a flaming sword on their chest plates came for her, uncompromising, stealing her from her home. At first, she cried, hit them, and begged for her father, anything to make those people take her back. She even tried to run away, but they were faster, bigger and stronger than she. They simply snatched her and tucked her under their armpit, uncaring of her tears. Eventually, her tears just stopped streaming, and she retreated into a silent existence, always staring the ground under her feet. She did what she was told, never asking anything, just being a good girl.
From the ferry, the tower seemed so dreadful as loomed over the lake, that for a moment she thought it might be a nightmare. It was too scary to be true. She bit her lower lip to wake herself up until she felt the coppery taste of her blood in her mouth.
It wasn't a dream
And after long days of catatonia, that aching knot in her throat began to throb again, and she felt the burnings tears trickling from her eyes. She began to sob, silently, to avoid drawing the attention of the Templars.
Two men waited for them at the other side of the gate. One, in the same uniform with the flaming sword, with that stern expression on his face that made her shudder. She somehow found him scarier than her unwanted companions. She only dared to take a quick glance at him, but when their eyes met, she instantly looked to the ground again.
She stole a glance to the other man. He seemed kinder; under his thick mustache and beard, he was smiling. He wore some robe which covered his whole body, and there was a staff strapped to his back. But she couldn't stand his gaze for long and soon fixated her glance to the floor again.
"What is your name?" she heard the question. That stern voice made her twitch, tremble. She didn't dare to look up to them, just snuggled her doll as much as she could and stared at a stain on the floor. She wanted to run away, back to her father and ask his forgiveness for whatever she had done. But she could do nothing. Fear rooted her legs, petrified her.
"Answer them." Commanded one of her unwanted companions and violently shoved her on the shoulder. It was so intense that she fell on the floor and cried out in shock. And she couldn't sob in silence anymore; her whole body shook as her grievous wail filled the great hall.
"It is not necessary to be violent Lieutenant," said the armored man, with a stern and scolding expression on his face. "She is already frightened to death." The man in the robe crouched to her and helped her to get on her feet again. She slowly looked up to him again, into his warm, deep brown eyes; her father had the same. He still smiled at her and placed his hands on the side of her arms, gently, trying to calm her down.
"What is your name, my child?" His tone was soft, comforting, giving some courage to her. The little girl opened her mouth, but no voice came out of it. She dropped her eyes again, but he propped her chin with his fingers making her look at him again. "Don't be afraid; I'm here to help you."
"So… Solona… Solona Amell," she stammered in a quiet voice. She doubted that anybody heard it beside him.
"Do you know why you are here?" she heard another question from the armored man. His voice made her twitch once again. She still didn't dare to look at him, so she addressed her answer to the one who held her arms gently. She didn't like the men in armor. They looked so mean. The man in the robe at least knew how to smile.
"I did something wrong, didn't I?" she asked uncertainly. He chuckled. It was so familiar, so soothing like his father was when she said something terribly silly. "It wasn't my fault, I swear."
She tried to apologize, like when her father caught her in a prank what was usually not her fault, but her cousins' "The boy fell from the tree. I just wanted to help him." Her speech drowned into crying again. The man wiped her tears gently from her face and waited patiently for her to continue. "Can I go home now? Please, I will be a good girl, I promise. I won't do it again, just let me go home." she begged.
"What you won't do again, my child?" he asked.
"I won't let my hands glowing again. Isn't that why I'm here?" The little girl grew bolder. She didn't know from where she got that courage, but suddenly even the Templars in their armor didn't seem so frightening. "My father punished me, because my hands were glowing, just as he punished my brothers before me." The crouching man looked to the stern templar questioningly.
"Her brothers are mages too, all of them" he answered to the unspoken question.
Mage.
Solona heard that word before, at the Chantry, when the sisters taught the young ones on every holy day. She was usually so bored during those lectures, trying to occupy herself, just let her imagination wander elsewhere.
But one sentence burned into her mind. Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.
The Chantry sisters told this to them every single time; she could have recited this proverb even if her father had woken her up in the middle of the night from her sweetest dream.
"How old are you?" the armored man asked her once again. For the first time since her first faint attempt, she looked at him and answered him directly.
"Six," her tone was more confident, but still very quiet and weak. The robed man handed a handkerchief to clean her face, stained with salt and water.
"You are a very smart and brave young lady." He hummed gently and paternally as slowly stood. "My name is First Enchanter Irving, and this is your new home."
The shock settled on Solona's face as she understood his words. She dropped her doll, felt weak, stumbling backward. Backing into one of the Templars, he grabbed her thin, fragile arm, making it impossible to run away.
"No, no, please, just let me go home!" She begged, and the tears began to stream down her face again. She didn't understand anything, felt trapped, she tried to escape from the grip of the Templar, tried to kick with her legs in any direction she could, but he held her firmly. She sobbed, yelled at them, begged for release, but it was useless; she screamed to deaf men.
They stood there motionless, none of them helped her, none of them heard her, just watched the desperate struggle as she tried to get herself free, like a trapped little bird. It seemed like hours of desperate tussles before two men arrived in robes and dragged her to a small room with a bed and a cupboard. They shut the door behind them and locked it with a loud, merciless 'click.'
She banged on the thick wooden door, shouted, yelled, screamed for long hours until her voice became hoarse and she could do nothing else but wail. Begging for release, to let her go home. Nobody showed up. Neither to free her nor to silence her. Eventually, after the last of her strength left her, she realized that nobody would come to rescue her. Laying on the bed and embracing her thighs, the only thing she could do was weep and silently pray to the Maker that her father would change his mind and come for her.
The room shuddered into empty loneliness around her so silent she could hear her fast heartbeat. When she wearied herself with sobbing and eventually couldn't cry anymore, she just stared at the whitewashed ceiling. Washed-up and sleepless, her mind raced, tried to comprehend what happened to her that day, tried to find some explanation, but the only thing she could come up with is that this must be some punishment.
As the first rays of the sun shone through the small windows of the room, she sank into a state of silent catatonia again, facing the wall with glassy eyes, red and puffy from crying. She didn't even react to the opening door. She heard the deliberate but still soft steps approaching her bed. Felt that somebody sat beside her, and gently stroked her disheveled, half-undone ginger hair.
It was like fire always in two braids that fell her shoulders. Her father so loved to comb it; he was so proud of it. It was like a fall of flames on her head, he always said. The Chantry sisters always wanted to trim it down or dye it to another color, anything to conceal it. They found it a bad omen, the color of destruction. Her father just laughed every time they tried to persuade him and always recited the same proverb from the Chant of Light; Touch me with the fire that I be cleansed.
"I'm sorry that we have frightened you, my child." She recognized the gentle voice. It was the man called Irving. Solona slowly turned toward him, and he just smiled at her soothingly "But you must understand that you are special and your father just did that is the best for you," she sat up and looked at him with big bleary, sparkling emerald-green eyes.
Her father always said that they are more beautiful than any jewel in the vault of the Orlesian Empress or any ruler in Thedas. He, of course, embellished her beauty like would any father would do with his little sunshine, but she felt so special when he told her such things.
"What a lovely little girl you are," Irving said after a few minutes of silence as he returned her ragdoll to her. "You shouldn't keep this, but this will be our, little secret, okay?" and he conspiratorially held his index finger to his lips.
Solona snuggled the toy to herself and lowered her eyes confused. At first, he locked her up in this room, and now he is treating her sweetly? This made no sense for her. Remembering the look of reproach her father would give her for not saying thank you she looked up and smiled at him uncertainly.
"Do you know what a mage is?" She heard the question and answered the first thing that came to her mind.
"Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him." this made Irving laugh, and once again she was reminded of her father.
"I see your Chantry sisters taught you well, my child." He stood up stretching out his hand to her to accept, Solona slowly got up from the bed and took it. They exited the room and walked through a wide corridor, her eyes growing big as she beheld the size of it for the first time. Previously, she had been too occupied in her struggle for freedom, but now as they took the steps together, she could look around.
And the adventurer awoke in her; she so loved to explore the woods next to their home in Starkhaven, to the greatest chagrin of her nurse. Not only because she had to accompany her to every exploration, but she also ruined her dresses, got bruised and dirty from head to toe. She couldn't wait to explore this place, find every secret nook of it, and without her even noticing her discomfort disappeared.
Irving led her into his office, where an elder woman waited for them. As they entered, he released Solona's hand and sat down while the old lady approached her and crouched.
"This is Senior Enchanter Wynne. She wanted to meet you." The First Enchanter introduced her. She stroked little girl's cheek gently, almost with maternal care; as if Solona had any idea what maternal care was. Given that, her mother died when she was three. She had only a few foggy memories of her, and she wasn't smiling or laughing in any of them, only sad.
"Welcome, my child" the elder woman greeted her. Her voice was velvety, caressing like the fresh springtime breeze, she couldn't do anything but smile in response.
"You are a mage, Solona." Irving began "That's why you cannot go home. That's why your hand was glowing when you helped that boy. You healed him." She looked to the First Enchanter confused.
"We can teach you, child," Wynne continued. "We can protect you. The outer world doesn't understand us; our power leads to mistrust." The little girl listened to them attentively and the more they spoke, the more she understood that she was stuck.
Her father will never come for her.
Wynne slowly raised Solona's hand, palm facing her. "Think of something that warms you, something you like, my child. Concentrate on it in your mind." She didn't understand but didn't dare to oppose. Envisioning the image of fire in the fireplace of their house and a strange but pleasant feeling flooded her body, tingling and oddly familiar. Tiny blazes appeared in her hand, frightening her at first. It didn't burn her, but she felt it pulsating, vibrating, like a small heart beating in her palm. And this was mesmerizing to her; it seemed synchronized with her own heart like they were one and indivisible. As the tingling feeling circulated inside her, boiling through her veins with a ferocity she had never felt before, she tentatively clenched her fingers, and the little flames blew out without causing her any injury. Wynne, who just smiled her contentedly at the stunned expression on Solona's face.
"It is a blessing, and a curse, my child," Irving spoke at last. "We will help you to master it, to keep it in control." As if on cue, a young elf boy in robes appeared in the door. "From this day, you are the apprentice of our Circle."
And the young boy gently led her out from the office.