Prologue: The Kingdom of Brecilia

To the far east of Ferelden there was a tiny Kingdom, surrounded by all sides of deep, dark woods. It was the elven kingdom of Brecilia, ruled by King Mendanbar. The elves of Brecilia were a free, proud, beautiful people, although few. Many elves preferred to wander, and they were known as Dalish or the People of the Dales. But the elves of Brecilia lived mainly in the elven city of Arlathan, the city of trees, built high above the ground. In the heart of Arlathan laid the palace of King Mendanbar, and in it resided the King with his six children, four princes and two princesses. The King had been blessed with three sets of twins, each set bore to him by influential and powerful mages. High Lord Cyrion, high priest of the Gods, had bore the first set. To his King he had given Beatrice and Bellerophon, fair of face and wise of mind. The sorceress known only as the Lady of the Woods had given him Celeman and Clement, both blessed with wandering spirits and restless dreams. Lastly Istimaethoriel, who served her King as the Keeper of Knowledge, had given him Icthlarin and Ilona, who both were gentle-hearted and sweet of nature.

Brecilia was known as 'land of trees and gemstones', the former due to the thick woods that covered most of the country and the latter for a very, very old tradition in the royal family, the origin of which had long ago been forgotten. At birth, a royal child was given gemstone that was, through a secret form of magic, linked to their souls and in a way became their source of power. It was then shaped into a teardrop and attached to a circlet of gold. The circlet was to be worn always, and it was common for little princes and princesses to be dressed in the color of the stone that had been chosen for them, and to be given the epithet Prince of the… or Princess of the…. Thus, King Mendanbar of Brecilia was also called The King of the Ruby or The Ruby King.

King Mendanbar was not really a man of traditions, but even he had to bend his head to some of them. Therefore, he carefully chose soulstones for his children in the hope that they would serve them well. His eldest daughter, princess Beatrice, with her golden hair was given the sapphire. Her twin brother, wise Bela with his dark red hair, he gave the emerald. To his wandering sons, Clement and Celeman, he gave the amethyst and the onyx. To the youngest, sweetest twins, he gave the ever-changing amber and the nigh impossibly rare morganite. The amber for Icthlarin with his mane of wild red curls, and to gentle Ilona the morganite. The maids at the castle dressed the royal children in the colors of their stones; Beatrice in shades of blue, Bela in vivid green, Clement in purple and lavender. Celeman wore black and grey, Icthlarin was dressed in all the colours of autumn, and Ilona in an array of pinks. The children grew up together and loved each other as well as siblings do, but Celeman left the palace when still a mere child to wander far and wide to learn of the world around them. When he returned, they were stunned to see his dark hair turned a snowy white, scars marring his pale skin, and the silks and velvets of the court changed for black leathers. He called himself Fenris, and though they were bewildered at first they soon embraced and kissed their dear brother, at last returned, and from that day knew him as nothing but Fenris. It was the same day their dearest brother Clement came down to lunch dressed in a dress as lovely as the creations his sisters wore, in a shade of lavender that made his eyes glow. He asked them to call him sister and Kallian, and since they had already accepted the wild warrior Fenris as brother they had no issue in kissing and hugging their sister and calling her by the name she had chosen for herself.

And so, King Mendanbar had three daughters where he before had been blessed with two. And he loved his third daughter as well as he loved her sisters. From that day forth, the maids dressed the middle princess in soft lavender and gentle purples, and woved amethysts in her long dark hair.

So was the state of the royal family of Brecilia when our story begins.

King Mendanbar looked at his children over his soup bowl and considered his words carefully. Then he spoke.

"I have something of utmost importance to tell you, my children." He dunked his bread roll in his bowl and waited to garner their attention. When he was sure that he had most of them, he went on, figuring that Beatrice would inform Bela of what their father had said. Sweet Bela was so engrossed in his book he had failed to notice his braid lying in his soup and therefore had not heard his father speak, but the rest of them blinked at him in varying grades of confusion.

"What might that be, dearest father?" Kallian was first to find her voice.

"Well, now that you all are of age" the king smiled at Icthlarin, the youngest and prettiest Prince, who had just turned fifteen. "I think it is high time that I went on with my life. You lot keep telling me I've been alone for too long, so..." Ilona smiled brightly.

"You have met someone, father!" She crowed, delighted.

"Well, yes." the king admitted, blushing slightly.

"I knew it" Fenris muttered sardonically. He turned to his twin. "You owe me a new sword." Kallian ignored him.

"Who is she, father? Or he?" Beatrice wanted to know. King Mendanbar smiled dreamily.

"Her name is Athenril, and she is arriving here in the morning. We will be wed at the end of the week."

Since the king's word was the country's law, the wedding was held at the end of the week. The royal children were slightly wary of their stepmother, but Lady Athenril soon won their hearts and their loyalty without question. She was lovely and gentle, and accepted them all as they were without question or reluctance. Oddly, the only one who was still wary of her was the youngest and sweetest of them all, Icthlarin.

"I know not why" he said unhappily to his twin when she questioned his motives. "I just… do not trust her. Please, sister, do not ask why. I cannot answer you." He looked so bereft that she chose not to press further, instead comforted him to the best of her ability.

Time passed, and soon it had been nearly a year since the king's wedding. During this time, the new queen had bore a child, little prince Feynriel, and he was universally adored by his siblings who thought him the sweetest of the sweet. Even Icthlarin adored his little brother and never tired of amusing the child, whom the King decreed should share his own red ruby as his soul-stone. They were all so happy, they failed to see the darkness growing in the queen's mind after the birth of the child. She feared that the king loved his older children better than her son, and feared that she had only bore him the one child where all his previous had been blessed twins. In her mind grew the sick thought to be rid of the older children, so that her son would be the only prince left. That way, King Mendanbar would have no one else to love and hold.

She plotted carefully, wanting to choose the perfect spell to ensure she got what she wanted. She did not want to kill the princes and princesses, no, but she did want them gone from the lands, never to return. So she researched in secret, and plotted in the silence of her chambers, until she had her spell ready. She would direct her curse at their soulstones, and thus collected six gems that she carefully enchanted in the darkness of the night. But the queen had made a terrible mistake; in her haste to be rid of the princes and princesses, she had mistakenly taken from her jewellry box not a piece of amber, but a ruby. But the queen did not see her mistake in the dim light of the moon, her only witness the night she cast her spell, and once it was completed she hid the stones in a magic-containing pouch beneath her bed. Then, she simply bided her time for an opportunity to release the spell.

For many months Queen Athenril waited with growing frustration for the opportunity to bespell the royal children, but since she did not want the King - a strong mage in his own right - to be able to stop her, she would have to wait until he was not present at the castle. Eventually, the King had to leave the castle to go broker peace between a clan of wandering elves and the King in the country bordering on his own lands, leaving his children with his queen. Athenril did not wait a full day before she asked the children to join her in the audience chamber, for she had something very important to tell them.

The moment the doors to the audience chamber closed behind Fenris, the last to enter, the queen opened her pouch and began her spell. The six gemstones fell, one by one, from the pouch and onto the floor, shattering on impact. As they shattered, a fine grey mist immediately enveloped the prince or princess who had the matching soulstone. They all cried out in horror and tried to flee, but the sturdy doors were locked behind them and there was nowhere to run. Princess Beatrice tried to shield baby Feynriel with her body when she saw a brilliant ruby fall to the floor, but she had nothing for it as the next stone that fell was her own - the sapphire. Prince Fenris pushed his youngest brother, Icthlarin, behind a pillar in an equally desperate attempt to protect him from the curse.

It all happened distressingly quickly, and it was all poor Icthlarin could do to watch the transformation. With growing despair he saw Fenris' black leathers turn into downy black feathers, Beatrice's full mouth become a yellow beak, Ilona's dainty feet change into webbed feet. Then, suddenly, it was over and where his siblings had stood were six black swans, the last one only a tiny chick, all of them crying out in sorrow as the circlets they had worn around their heads clattered to the floor, the brilliant stones now dull and empty. Then they spread their wings as one and flew out the window, leaving him behind. Icthlarin ran after them, wailing and crying, pleading with them to come back. But no matter how much he wept, he stood helplessly watching them become smaller and smaller against the sky until he could not see them at all.

He sank to the floor, insensible, and knew nothing more.

When prince Icthlarin awoke from his fainting spell, he found himself in his chambers, tucked safely in bed. His father was sitting by his bedside, his face ravaged with grief as he wept quietly. Icthlarin immediately sat up and embraced his father, thanking the Gods that his father had not been affected by the queen's curse.

"I will save them" he vowed. "I will find a way to break the curse and bring them home."

But the king begged with him to stay; the thought of losing the only child he had left was simply unbearable. He had already imprisoned his Queen, and he was now desperate to keep and protect the only family he had left. But no matter how he cried and begged, cajoled and eventually threatened, Icthlarin would not be swayed. He could not bear the thought of his sweet sisters or dear brothers flying beneath the heavens forever, cursed into the shape of birds. He simply must save them.

As soon as he could talk the castle healer into allowing him out of bed, he packed some clothes and provisions, gathered up his siblings blessed circlets, kissed his father goodbye and set out to save his siblings. He walked for a whole day straight ahead, into the woods that surrounded the lands of Brecilia. Even though he soon became hopelessly lost, he refused to lose hope. He would save his siblings somehow, no matter how much time it took.

Eventually, the first day of adventuring ended and an exhausted Icthlarin stumbled into a clearing he had never seen before. There was a little cottage, and smoke puffed out of the little chimney in a way that was almost cheery. Icthlarin decided to trust to luck, and went over and knocked on the door.

The woman who opened the cottage door was old, but there was something about her eyes that spoke of even greater age than her face showed.

"Good evening, prince of Brecilia" she said before he had introduced himself. "Come in and rest your weary feet." Icthlarin smiled gratefully at her and did just that, accepting the bowl of stew and dark bread she offered him with profuse thanks. After having eaten, the old woman - Flemeth, she said her name was - offered him a few blankets and a pillow, and curled up before the dying fire the exhausted Icthlarin swiftly fell asleep.

He dreamt of flying.