A/N: This was written for a request on tumblr, from someone who asked for a story featuring Venara as a mother (with a child/children by Solas). Thanks for reading!
The Wolf's Daughter
It was cold that afternoon. Autumn was almost gone, the remaining leaves clutching fruitlessly at the branches of their trees, trembling with every gust of wind. The first snows had come that morning, dusting the ground with white. Frost clung to the sides of trees and crept along the creek, its babbling music stilled under a thin sheet of ice. There was no wildlife chatter in the woods, the birds having already migrated north and the bears disappearing into their dens for the coming winter. Though it was only late in the afternoon, the sky was already darkening, the pale blue giving way to a deep indigo as the sun set behind the mountains.
It was a world on the edge of change, a change that was palpable in the stillness of the air and the silence of the woods.
"Alia!"
Venara's breath rose in the air as she descended the hill into the woods, following the fresh footprints in the snow. One-handed, she pulled her cloak tighter around her, huddling into the soft fur around its neckline as she shivered. She was dressed warmly, in a thick woollen tunic and skirt, but not warmly enough. She felt wetness soaking into the back of her woollen leggings, her leather shoes kicking up snow as she tromped through the woods.
"Alia!"
Her call echoed through the woods. There was no answer—not from her daughter, not from anything. Only white trees, silent and steady, barely wavering in the wind.
Venara sighed and let go of the edges of her cloak, letting them swing back into place. She hated doing things one-handed, but with the on-set of winter, she had no choice. Dagna's prosthetic arm, made so many years ago, had been left in the cottage. It was crafted from silverite and would give her frostbit if she went outdoors with it attached during the cold months.
She raised a gloved hand, her fingers curled into a clawed shape, and gestured. Green-blue light, not unlike veilfire, spun from her palm, curling up her fingers then spinning out into the air and fracturing into multiple pieces. The wisps darted around her, streaking and whirling through the air, their paths illuminated by the light trailing after them. They whirled around her, buzzing happily. She watched them play for a moment, a smile on her lips, then spoke seriously.
"All right, all right, that's enough of that."
The wisps paused, halting their spirited dance and hung the air, bobbing apologetically.
"You don't have to be sorry for something that's in your nature," Venara said. "You want to play. I understand that."
One of the wisps did a loop-the-loop, then stopped mid-loop, ashamedly hanging upside down.
Venara resisted the urge to laugh. "I just need to find my daughter," she said. "Can you help me?"
The wisps buzzed with delight. They looped around Venara, nearly crashing into each other in their excitement, then took off into the darkening wood.
Venara followed the lights, slipping and sliding on the snowy ground. The sun was setting in earnest now. She hoped she would find her daughter before darkness had come completely.
It wasn't that she was worried about Alia's safety. Not completely. Her daughter, though barely five years old, had an uncanny ability to look after herself, especially in the wilderness. When she was three years old, Alia had toddled away from the cottage and fallen head-first into the creek. By the time Venara had realized she was gone, she found that Alia had been mysteriously pulled out of the water and was sitting on the bank, laughing and clapping her hands as she stared up at an old oak tree. Venara suspected that it was a Sylvan, but if so, it had never revealed itself to her.
Sometimes it felt as though nature recognized Alia's heritage and sought to protect her. And perhaps it did, here in the Ferelden Frostbacks, so close to Skyhold.
In the city, it was a different story: the closer she was to human civilization, the more trouble she attracted. Venara had learned that lesson very sharply when Alia was born. After the uprising, after Tevinter, there was no place in Thedas for a girl like Alia.
It was the reason why they lived on their own, so far away from anything substantial. The Dalish didn't wander these lands anymore. The closest humans were a clan of Avaar, but they had their own customs and beliefs, far different from anything in the civilized areas of the country. They had few interactions so far, but Alia was always safe with them.
But even out here, as safe as they could be, Alia was all she had. When she disappeared without warning, Venara couldn't sate her growing panic until she found her again.
"Alia!"
The wisps whirled and danced as they led her onwards, deeper into the woods. By the time Venara crested the last hill, the backs of her leggings were quite drenched. She looked down into a little clearing, following the lights, and spotted a small, dark figure sitting in the snow.
"…Alia?"
The girl turned and smiled. The wisps danced around her happily, spinning and turning, illuminating her small face in green-blue light. Her black hair, plaited so carefully that morning, had unravelled from their braids, now loosely brushed her shoulders. Her brown skin was dusted lightly with freckles that had not yet faded, her long, narrow face captured by a look of utmost curiosity. Her piercing blue-grey eyes, so reminiscent of her father's, were wide as she reached out and tried to touch one of the wisps. It let her get close, then inched away. She let out a giggle, standing up and danced around in a circle, repeating her experiment with each of the spirits. They buzzed with contentment, as if laughing.
Venara walked down the hill. "Having fun are you?"
"They won't let me play!"
"I think you are playing, da'len," Venara said, eyeing the wisps as they bobbed up and down. She imagined they were giggling.
"Yes, but they're cheating!"
"Here." Venara sunk to her knees so she was on the same level as her daughter. She held out a hand, cupping her palm, then whistled gently. The nearest whisp slowly drifted forwards, then settled into her hand, glowing happily. "You can't grab them, da'len," Venara said. "They're like the wind or the rain. You must let them come to you."
The wisp buzzed, then sailed out of Venara's palm and looped around her, light trailing after it.
Alia nodded severely, then held out her own hand in imitation of her mother's. She stood still, watching the wisps dance, then held her breath as one slowly approached her and settled into her palm.
"I got one," Alia said. "Is it my friend now?"
"If it wants to be," Venara said. "It's a spirit."
"You're friends with spirits," Alia said.
"Some of them, yes."
"Then I can be, too."
Alia brought her hand in close to her chest, the little wisp glowing and buzzing in her palm. She pressed her lips to the ball of light, then quickly withdrew. "We're friends now," she said.
Venara could have sworn the wisp turned pink.
The wisp bobbed in Alia's hand, then shot off into the sky, where it continued its dance.
"Why are you out here, Alia?" Venara asked, enclosing her daughter in an embrace. "I was worried."
Alia put her small arms around her mother. "Don't worry about me, Mamae. I have friends who look after me."
Venara couldn't help but feel both a little mystified and a little unsettled. "What kind of friends?" she asked, drawing away and looking Alia straight in the eye. She hoped they were of the imaginary kind.
"Kind friends," Alia said. "Good friends. Big friends."
"…big friends?" Venara's brow creased. What does she mean by that?
"I came to tell them goodnight," Alia said. "And now you can, too. Look!"
She pointed to the edge of the clearing. She slipped her other hand into Venara's and tugged on it, repeating, "Look, look!"
Venara stood, eyes narrowed. It was truly dark now, the only light coming from the dancing wisps. She heard something move at the edge of the clearing and her heart leapt into her throat. Alia's "friends" were most certainly not imaginary. And they did indeed sound "big." Venara swallowed a lump in her throat, steeled her will and prepared to act if necessary.
A creature stepped partially into the pool of light. Its shaggy form was large, its teeth sharp, its eyes an icy blue. It raised its head back and howled.
Alia raised hers and howled, too.
Howls echoed all around them, filling the woods. The sound was unmistakable. She had heard it again and again in the mountains near Skyhold.
Wolves.
Venara spun, kicking up more snow as she searched the darkness for the rest of the pack. She could hear them trotting through the woods, their paws dusting the snow and they wove their way through the trees. But she couldn't see them. She turned back, mouth open in a mixture of fear, panic and wonder, as she watched the leader of the pack step into the light.
He was a magnificent beast. Tall and large, with a majestic coat of silver, his eyes a piercing blue-grey that reminded Venara very much of…
Stop it.
She watched as the wolf shook his head and barked. Alia slipped her hand out of Venara's and ran towards the wolf. Venara sucked in her breath, wanting to catch her daughter by the back of her clothes and carry her away from this valley, but something gave her pause. She watched as Alia flung her arms around the wolf's neck and gently patted its nose. She ran her fingers through the wolf's coat, murmuring something to him under her breath.
In response, the wolf licked her face and Alia giggled.
"See?" Alia said, one arm still thrown over the wolf's back. "They're my friends, mamae."
Venara exhaled slowly. "Of course they are, da'len," she said. "Of course."
Why should she be surprised? Considering the legacy Alia carried within her, it seemed fitting that her daughter would seek out friendship with a wolf pack.
The rest of the pack had reached the ring of light. One by one, they padded up to Alia, let her run her hands through their fur, pat them on the nose, hug them tightly. A couple of the younger ones circled Venara suspiciously, but the leader barked at them and they padded away. Alia giggled and laughed, her joy at being with the wolves uncontainable. Venara watched, a sad smile on her face.
Oh, Solas. If you could see her now…
She paused.
Then a response came back to her.
But I can.
The words were whispered on the wind, echoing over and over again. Venara raised her head, looking around, wondering if it was just her imagination.
It had to be. He was long gone. Far gone. She hadn't thought about him in years now, at least not directly. She had pushed her memories of him aside, even though he was in every inch of her daughter's face. It was difficult to reconcile who he had been when Alia was conceived with what he had become. And so she buried it, pushing the past far behind and focusing on what mattered most: on raising her daughter.
She hadn't told Alia who her father was. She hadn't asked, Venara didn't even know if it was something she had thought about. But she knew the questions would come one day, as she grew older. Someday, Alia would want to know. She would want to know where her strange magic came from, and what it meant to hold such vast power in her heart.
Venara still had time to prepare. Magic did not usually manifest until puberty. She knew that she could never lie to her daughter. Lies and deceit would only complicate matters, and it was already complicated enough.
After all, how did one tell their daughter that she was the child of an ancient elven god?
Alia giggled as one of the wolves nudged her and licked her sloppily.
When the time comes, you will know, the wind seemed to say. I have faith in you, vhenan. As always.
Venara felt chilled. She couldn't think about this now. If he was truly speaking to her…
What had she learned from Mythal? That the last of the ancient elvhen did not die so easily?
Curse you, Solas, she thought, tears welling in her eyes. Curse you.
Her tears froze to her cheeks. She walked towards Alia, back straight, and caught her daughter's hand. "Come on, da'len," she said. "It's time to go back. You can play with the wolves another day."
Alia smiled and nodded, her small fingers squeezing Venara's hand. "Dareth shiral," she said, placing her free hand on the pack leader's side. The wolf growled happily, then turned abruptly, calling to his pack as they slunk back into the shadow of the woods.
Venara watched them go.
Sometime later, as she was trekking through the woods to the cottage, her daughter clinging to her hand and their path lit by the wisps, she wished fervently that they had stayed a little longer.
the end