A/N: A writing exercise with my beta, EilonwyCousland QueenofTragedy (Love you!), turned into a backstory for my character. Just short snippets into the life of my Inquisitor before she becomes the inquisitor. Female elf rogue named Kel'Shani Lavellan. Also a big thank you to Rachel for editing this as well!
Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Age.
Collection One: The Sting of Rain
...
"No, Kel'Shani! We do not touch that," Elthea scolded, taking the knife away from her young toddler.
Elthea Lavellan watched as Kel'Shani eyed the knife, nibbling at her lip and making grabbing motions with her little fists. Realizing her mother had put it up high enough that she couldn't reach, Kel'Shani looked up at her mother in defiance. She thrust out her bottom lip, her eyes narrowing in frustration.
"Pout all you like, Da'len, you shan't have it," Elthea said, her voice amused but firm, a tone only a mother could accomplish. Kel'Shani hmphed and, stomping her little foot, toddled away. Elthea smothered a smile at her daughter's antics.
Elthea knew her daughter was strong willed within the first two days of her birth. She knew that her daughter was clever within the first year. Kel'Shani was almost three years old, with soft dark red ringlets, and deep green eyes much like her own. She looked most like her, but Kel'Shani's spirit was that of her father's - strong willed, temperamental, and very clever.
As she watched Kel'Shani entertain herself with flowers in the meadow, she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind. The smell of the woods and green things drifted over her. A sense of peace settled over Elthea.
"Abelas, vhenan. You must be hungry," she said, turning halfway so she could look at her bond-mate, Cahir, and still see her child. Deep mahogany eyes met her forest green.
He leaned forward to capture her lips in a quick kiss before replying. "It's alright. Tonlan and I had lunch at the river. We managed to snag some rabbits for dinner."
Tonlan was the woodsman of their clan. Older, wiser, and knowledgeable about tracking animals and finding his way around a forest. He had lost his bond mate, Liana, a few years ago to a fever. Elthea had refused to let Tonlan sink into grief. It took time, but eventually she had him joining them for dinner, and hunting with Cahir again.
"Tell Tonlan he can join us for dinner if he wishes. He is more skilled than I at skinning rabbits," she answered, glancing away from her husband to watch her daughter.
"Hm, am I not skilled at it?" He asked, sounding both offended, and bemused. She laughed, shaking her head.
"No, dear, you are not." Elthea quipped.
"You wound me woman," Cahir said, dropping his voice in false sadness, "My pride will never recover."
She laughed. "You are skilled in other areas, Ma vhenan," was her reply, glancing at him and winking, "For example, you are an excellent hunter."
He hmphed, the noise sounding much like Kel'Shani's, and she giggled as he strolled away to fetch Tonlan.
...
Kel'Shani sang.
She sang while she helped her mother make dinner, she sang as she ate, and she sang as she fell asleep.
Sometimes her songs were silly ditties that she hummed with the innocence of a four year old. Her father would clap to the beat, and her mother would pick Kel'Shani up and the two would dance around their camp. They would all break into laughter when she was finished, and Kel'Shani would snuggle in between her parents with the feeling of love and security settled in her heart.
Other times, Kel'Shani would capture a sad melody. Something mournful and soft that would drive her father from camp to hunt, and make her mother cry. Others would gather around the fire, drawn by the sound of sorrow coming from such a small child. They would be moved to tears like her mother. She would hear Keeper Istimaethoriel whisper to her mother that her daughter was gifted.
Afterwards, she'd ask her mother again for another sweet and knew her mother wouldn't say no this time. She would giggle at her cleverness, but she suspected that her mother knew this game by now.
Still, it always seemed to work.
Kel'Shani would chirp a tune when she was happy. She would belt a tone when she was angry, and she would sob a melody when she was sad.
She sang as she grew, always with music in her head and a chant in her heart.
Until one day, in her ninth year her world fell apart, and Kel'Shani sang no more.
...
Nine year old Kel'Shani wandered the forest lost among its trees. She had been distracted by a deer, chasing after it in hopes to make her father and mother proud with her hunting skills. She had thought herself cunning enough to find her way back to her camp where she had left them.
She had been wrong.
Tears streamed down her face, shame and fear pushing her farther and farther as she spun around hoping to find something, anything, familiar. Try as she might, however, no direction felt right to her. As she searched despair was clawing away inside her, her breathing coming quicker and her heart beating wildly in her chest.
"Mamae! Mamae, Papae!" She hollered, tears streaming down her face, "Mamae!" Her voice broke, and she dropped to her knees.
Lost and alone, she curled into a ball. She began praying to the goddess that her parents find her. Pleading she deliver her the strength to keep looking and begging Mythal to guide her.
It could have been minutes or hours later that she heard twigs being trampled by feet. Her head snapped up, hope bubbling past her distress, only for her fear to return more intensely.
A man in ragged leather armor stood a few feet away watching her with a predatory grin, a knife held threateningly in his twisted fist. His eyes were wild, his hair pulled tightly away from his face, and his menacing smile grew wider when he noticed her fear.
"What's this here?" He asked, taking a step toward her, "A little knife ear lost in the forest?"
She managed to get to her feet, backing up until her back was against the tree. He glared at her, his grin quickly turning into a frown. He snarled, leaping toward her, and Kel'Shani panicked. She closed her eyes, waiting for the blow... but it never came.
"Ma halam! Leave my child be!"
Kel'Shani opened her eyes just in time to watch her mother hurl herself at the man. The two went down in a tangle of limbs. Kel'shani let out a scream calling to her mother in dread as the two fought for control of the knife.
This man was too big. Her mother would be over-powered in moments and yet Kel'Shani stood, screaming.
Her feet refused to move. Her fear kept her rooted. Sobs shook her tiny frame as her hysteria made it impossible for her to act. She watched, helpless, as her mother wrestled for the knife.
Her mother was losing and it'd be her fault, all her fault.
Just then an arrow caught the man in the back and he slumped forward on top of her mother. Kel'Shani hardly noticed as Tonlan ran past her, pulling the ragged man off her mother. Blood pooled across the ground mixing with the dirt and moss. Her mother laid motionless, staring but unseeing at Kel'shani. The knife was buried to the hilt in her mother's stomach.
Kel'Shani's knees buckled. Her world shattered. Her throat felt raw and she struggled to breathe. With every ragged breath came the cloying smell of blood.
She watched, unmoving, as Tonlan sobbed over her mother's body. She wondered dazedly where her father was. He should be here. Tonlan was only her mamae's friend but Cahir loved her.
She crawled forward, dragged herself to Elthea, knees slick and warm as she made her way through the puddle that continued to grow. She felt tears make trails down her face and with shaking hands she lifted her hand over her mother's face and closed her eyes. As she pulled her hand away, she felt the urge to sing.
She would sing her mother to sleep.
Gently, her voice hoarse, the song came to her lips. Sorrow overflowing as she sang.
"hahren na melana sahlin
emma ir abelas
souver'inan isala hamin
vhenan him dor'felas
in uthenera na revas"
Her voice cracked, and she bowed her head. Taking a deep breath, swearing to herself that if could just finish the song she would never sing again. In that moment of defeat, a deep baritone took over. Quietly at first, Tonlan's voice drifted over, and she somehow found the strength to continue:
"vir sulahn'nehn
vir dirthera
vir samahl la numin
vir 'lath sa'vunin'"
It was hours later as the rain soaked into her leather and drenched her soul as she cradled her mother that Tonlan led Cahir and the Keeper to the clearing. The Keeper rested a hand upon her shoulder but she didn't feel it. She didn't hear her father's mournful wail or his agonized sob as he took her mother's body from her. She didn't feel how cold the rain was, or the blood crusted underneath her nails or the Keeper as she tugged her from the ground and into her arms.
In fact, she felt nothing at all.
...
Her father wouldn't look at her.
She was sure he blamed her for her mother's death and perhaps he was right. She, too, found herself unable to look in a mirror.
She blamed herself as well. It had been her fault after all. She should have never left camp to chase a deer. She should have never thought herself smart enough to get back on her own. She may not have stabbed her mother, but it was her blood on her hands. She understood why her father wouldn't look at her.
He'd leave to hunt and sometimes he'd be gone for days. She spent her time with Tonlan, with her Keeper, or the Keeper's daughter Shanna.
At night she would cry herself to sleep, and when she awoke, she would want the day to end again.
Her father would return, only to snap at her for the slightest things. He was almost feral to anyone who'd try to interfere. He'd storm around camp and destroy things, bursting in fits of rage before he'd leave to hunt again. It became a normal routine.
Eventually, Kel'Shani found herself with Shanna more often than not. They were the same age and the pair fit together like two halves of a locket. Kel'Shani was drawn to Shanna's light. The other girl had hair of gold, and the bluest eyes Kel'Shani had ever seen. She was sweet, mild-mannered, and kind. Kel'Shani would go and spend time with her for as long as she could and feed off her radiance like a starving animal.
Sometimes, when the two of them played, she could pretend she was happy.
Then she'd find something of her mother's, and the darkness would creep back in. The world was no longer bright and full of potential. It was bleak and hopeless and the song in her heart was gone. Nothing could push back the tide of grief that threatened to consume her, not even Shanna's light was strong enough for that.
She accepted it as if it was a punishment. She shouldn't be happy. Her mother was dead and she was to blame. It must be, her father thought so, and nothing the Keeper or Tonlan said seemed to make much of a difference. Kel'Shani didn't deserve to be happy. She didn't deserve to have a friend.
So the day her father left to hunt and never returned, Kel'Shani chose to blame herself for that too.
...
Her sobs must have woken the Keeper. Kel'Shani had tried to keep them as quiet as possible but she failed. As she sat, curled in a ball at the edge of the Keeper's camp, she heard the older woman sit beside her.
"There are things in this world that we have no hope to control," Istimaethoriel whispered, "You can place the blame on yourself, on the world, on the Creators, or on others but it does not change what happened, Da'len."
Kel'Shani glanced up at Istimaethoriel. She sniffled, wiping her tears away with the back of her hands.
"It's my fault. I got her killed. I'm the reason he left. Why did Mythal save me and take my mamae? I am... I am unworthy," she sobbed out. The pain dug deeper into her heart as she spoke like a dagger twisting and sinking into her ribs.
"Did you set out that day to get your mother killed?" She asked, and Kel'Shani gasped in horror, "Did you force your father to leave you? Told him he couldn't stay?"
"Of course not!" She exclaimed, furious at the mere suggestion. The Keeper's expression softened, reaching out to take Kel'Shani's hand.
"No, you did not," She agreed, bending to meet Kel'Shani's eyes, "You did not get your mother killed. You did not force your father to leave. Do not, for one second, think you are unworthy, Da'len."
Kel'Shani met her Keeper's eyes and saw hope. Perhaps...Perhaps the Keeper was right. Maybe she was not all to blame. "How do I go on from here?" She asked, her voice soft.
"You simply just keep going. Time is the only true healer, Da'mi. You will find your strength as you go. I promise," the Keeper replied.
Kel'Shani pondered that for a moment. She stood, and squared her shoulders before meeting the Keeper's eyes.
"Ma serannas. I will see you in the morning," she said, attempting to fight past the never ending heartache.
She managed a step before she felt the Keeper enfold her in an embrace. Her heart cracked, and a small sob escaped.
"You are brave, Da'len. Keep that fortitude for all your days, Kel'Shani, and you will do great things," She loosened her grip to look down at her, "But for tonight, and for however long you must, it is ok to grieve. I will be here for you, never forget that."
Kel'Shani threw her arms around Istimaethoriel, hoping the Keeper was right and she would find her strength someday.
...
That's it for the first collection. Hope you enjoyed!