Title: Snow and Ice
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Sexual content, minor language, violence, blood, use of alcohol
Summary: Once upon a time, a maleficar had stopped the blight. Afterwards, she'd left for the colder North, leaving love for a life of loneliness and wandering. No one was to look for her. So why was Alistair calling her back? Zev/Surana
(I changed her name from Thyme to Elda bc that's what I usually name my characters. Sorry for the confusion)
Those nights we walked together
I couldn't sleep
Well I still remember what you wore now
It was the cold December air
The way the rain hit your hair but then...
I woke up from a dream I can't repair
And then realized
How far I'd finally come.
-Aiden, Cold December
"Rinna, watch yourself," the maleficar warned the snowy-haired child, grasping the folds of her daughter's cloak before the six year old could topple over onto the hard ice once again. "The ice is slicker in these parts, you remember?"
"Yes, Mommy," Rinna replied dutifully, reaching up to grasp her mother's frozen fingers. The wolf fur gloves were coarse but warm.
They were just over the southern ridge, entering the flatter plains where more rain than snow fell. Elda could see the mountains far off in the distance, capped with white dust. The winter had been harsh, and there was very little to eat on the plains. She glanced over at Rinna and flattened the girl's unruly hair. If the winter continued to billow them with snow and take the lives of animals they so needed to survive, she would have to risk a trip into town and buy supplies. Humans were distrustful of an elf from the start, let alone a wanderer who had the tattoos of a Dalish and the staff of a mage. There were some who could smell the blood magic on her, and she risked bringing the templars down on their heads again. Going into town for food would have to be a last resort. She hoped they could make the sea before the short amount of food in her pack was gone.
The sun was just setting over the horizon, casting them in an orange hue. Ice sparkled and winked as the last bit of daylight bled beneath the earth. Elda stopped suddenly, ice blue eyes scanning the horizon for a campsite. Rinna skidded on the snow.
"Can we camp next to the mountain again, Mommy?"
"Not tonight," Elda replied. "The wolves are hungry this time of year, and we can't risk it again." She fingered her bandaged ribs.
She shifted the pack at her side, the strap cutting into her shoulder. They would need to find shelter quickly and make a fire. Her pelts were wet from the day, and she had every intention of cooking the hare she'd caught earlier into a warm stew to heat them up for the cold night. A burning sun had melted bits of the ice, making it slick, but the scent of precipitation was heavy in the air and would likely freeze to add new layers in the morning. Travel would be rough.
Syn, her mabari hound, trailed up behind them, tongue lolling out. He whined and lapped at the open gash on the palm of her hand. Smiling down at him, she re-wrapped it as it had come undone. There was blood on the white bandages. The recent wounds were from the night before when she'd had to defend herself from a bunch of hungry wolves, resorting to blood magic. She began walking again, trusting her daughter to keep up. "I know of a spring in these parts. I used it when you were just a baby. The cave was near a Dalish tribe."
"Won't the Dalish hurt us?" Rinna asked, clutching her hand even more tightly until pain welled up through the cold.
"Not if we leave them be," was her reply, and they trudged on.
The toddler didn't mind the harsh climate so much. It was a good thing, but expected. After all, Elda had been in the frozen lands since Rinna was a babe. They had both grown thicker hides against the icy wind. Of course, Elda's body temperature had always been low. She could remember Alistair jumping whenever she touched him, complaining of the cold. Leliana, too.
Elda helped Rinna leap over a crack in the ice. Syn barked behind them. It was hard to believe that six years had gone by so fast. Six years since she'd been a true grey warden, scrambling to save Ferelden, a bastard king attempting to charm her. Those nights in the camp often weighed on her mind in the beginning. Alistair's jokes, Zevran's quick skill with his tongue and knives, Leliana's bardic songs, Sten's silent demeanor, Morrigan's fire crackling in the distance, the gentle baying of her mabari hound at night. Wynne's superior council. Ogren's foul stench and vulgar jokes. She missed them a great deal in the beginning. But as her belly had grown, she knew she could not go back. Could not have the child and leave it to the wolves as she'd originally planned. No, the fair-haired baby with charming, stern blue eyes reminded her too much of herself and of Rinna's father.
With the help of the Dalish, the mage had managed to have Rinna safely and see to it that she received medical care. In her time with them, she'd learned many skills. They'd danced and sang around fires at night. For a long time, she had a place to belong. For two years in fact. Then, one night, she'd disappeared into the wilderness with the baby. After two years of fun and dancing and friendships and lacing tattoos, Elda had disappeared to live on her own. It had become harder to hide her magic from the other elves. Of course, the keeper had known that she was maleficar. The keeper had accepted her. But only on the terms that she not use magic in their presence and she keep it hidden. When a young girl had stumbled upon her spell books and staff one night, Elda had left the very next day, Rinna soft and warm in her arms. She had wandered the wastelands since, where she would always be until the nightmares came back.
What would she do then? Hope that the world showed more kindness to Rinna than it had to her. Hope that she had been able to teach her apostate daughter all she could before going to Orzammar. Hope that Rinna had a defiant soul like her greatest friend Morrigan, and would stay well away from the Circle and it's rules. Hope that Rinna could find freedom where her mother could not.
Elda was still bound by the rules of the Circle in her mind, even though she'd become exactly what they feared. She was cold, ruthless, and used blood magic to suit her own ends. She often conversed with demons and found them better company than most humans. While ransacking the tower and looking for Morrigan's grimoire, Elda had learned how Uldred and Irving used to trick the mages, seeing which ones would be most likely to go for blood magic and turning them Tranquil before they had the chance. She could remember Zevran nodding silently in the background in understanding as she crashed her left hand into the sharp glass of a mirror. She could remember him dressing it as she cried in anger and fury and pain. The hatred for Irving still burned like a flame in her insides, threatening to destroy her. She had trusted him, a human, and he had betrayed that trust and the trust of so many other children. It had taken all of her will power not to throw him from the tower that day.
Just as they rounded another mountain of snow, Elda paused, seeing the mouth of the cave gaping and inviting them inside. A snow flake fell on her nose, and she glanced up. "Come on, Rinna," the maleficar said, holding out her hand to the child. She lifted all thirty-three pounds of the child into her arms and began to move over the ice with quickened steps. It would be dark soon, and curious things lurked in the dark.
She remembered it like an old friend. With the constant snow and rain, freezing and unfreezing, she wondered how the faithful cave hadn't yet been buried. It was made entirely of ice and stone, water dripping from the ceiling. Like most things in the cold wasteland, it had no distinct smell. Algae couldn't grow, moss often died, and the scavengers would take care of any rotting animal that happened to pass away in the cave. So, when she inhaled, wishing to get a scent of trees or maybe spices of the tower she still managed to remember after all the years, her disappointment was met with a burning sensation in her nose from the frigid air.
"Can we light a fire?" her daughter asked in that tiny, elven voice. Elda placed her daughter on unsteady feet and smoothed back the blonde curls.
"Yes, but only for tonight. The blizzard will cover the glow." She moved away as she spoke, pulling dried bits of timber from her pack and placing it in a teepee shape.
Rinna glanced at the mouth of the cave and furrowed her brow. "But it's not snowing."
"Not yet," was her simple reply.
She built up the fire fairly quickly and crept to the back of the cave for a dip in the icy spring. Pulling off her warm furs and robes, the cold made every hair on her body stand up. Elda was almost twenty-six by that point but hardly looked any older. Tattoos and scars covered every inch of her body. Flowers burst across her arms and legs. Blue ink encircled one eye. They were Dalish in origin and very elaborate designs. The Dalish often used tattoos to mark specific events in their lives. Similarly, every tattoo on her body meant something to her.
After bathing both herself and Rinna, with much reassurances and trembling, they both rested by the fire.
She took out a bit of dried meat for the child and herself. It was old and didn't have the same spicy taste as it once did, but it was all she had. Rinna didn't complain. The fire warmed Elda's bones. Soon, after Rinna had chewed her dried food and finished it all, the child crawled into her arms and snuggled close. As an elf, she was light. Her heart beat faster than a human's, rapid like a humming bird's wings. Nothing in the snowy expanse had a scent except for dead bodies, but her daughter...her daughter had a smell. Sometimes, Elda thought she smelled like him. Other times, the child had a spicy aroma that reminded her of the tower. But truthfully, her scent was her own and buried deep beneath her skin. Sometimes, Rinna was all that kept her tethered to the world of the living.
She didn't want to sleep just yet. The demons of the Fade called and pulled at her while she slept, and it was difficult not to thrash about as they battered her body. Being a maleficar was far more painful than she had thought, but it had unlocked unimaginable power. Jowan had shown her how. After experiencing it, she hadn't begrudged him so much for dabbling. Snow fell in heavy, thick drops that were part rain outside. The six year old was heavy in her arms, breathing deeply and slowly. The fire crackled and snapped as it devoured the bits of cloth and sticks she'd pulled from her pack. She rubbed Rinna's back with her fingertips, using magic to warm them up and create friction. It wasn't long until she fell asleep and the nightmares began. Only six years of training kept her from screaming into the cold, lonely night like a wounded animal and waking Rinna up.
The assassin tisked. "You're going to the wilderness up North? And may I ask what is there?"
Elda did not want to be in Zevran's company at that moment. She'd spent a week in the castle, helping Alistair get used to the duties that came with being king. Doing paperwork, ordering people about, reminding him that she wasn't his leader anymore. Doing paperwork... All of it had given her a nasty headache. She was ready for some fresh air. To be away from the stuffy confines of the castle's interior and the bowing, scraping servants with their cheeky smiles and wandering eyes. She wanted to be away from the uppity people who visited Alistair. To be away from their snide insinuations.
"An elf in the castle!"
"Do you think the king has a mistress already? The shame! And it's an elf, too!"
"She is the Hero of Ferelden."
"Just because she is a hero doesn't mean she can visit any bed she likes! Oh, she'll think she'll be queen next!"
"This elf will make them all restless. Can't she see what she's done? Tipping the balance like this! They should know their place."
Elda gave him a stern glance. "I'm leaving, and you can't come with me."
"My dear," Zevran said, palms digging deeply into the quilted bed as he leaned over, nose nearly touhcing hers, "I will go with you."
"No, you won't," she said huffily. "Look, I just need some space. Some...time apart. Away from you and Alistair and this place."
There was hurt in his eyes, she saw. Ever since he'd given her that damned earring, this had all been so much harder. At first, sex had been fun. Then came Zevran's final separation from the Crows. Then the whispers of love and devotion. Now this. She cared for him deeply. But...Zevran was free. She'd once had her freedom taken away when they stole her from her family and shoved her in that dreadful tower, and it hadn't been her choice. Then, she'd been drafted by the Grey Wardens. Again, not her choice. Every chance of freedom she'd ever had had been taken away. No, she wouldn't steal his away. Not with this.
"Zevran,"--the full use of his name made him flinch-- "stay here. I'll come back. Help Alistair. I-I just need some time."
She wasn't coming back. He saw this. Zevran stepped around her case, grasping her tiny hands in his. His broad shoulders slumped.
"Elda, you've helped me redescover love. You reawakened something in me that I'd thought long dead. My heart," he said simply, taking her petite hand and pressing it to his chest where his heart beat steadily. "I do not want to lose you, but if it is what you want, I will stay here. I will wait for you. For as long as it takes."
"I love you, Zev," she said, for she knew it would be the last time she said it for a long time. Maybe forever, depending on what she decided.
He took her arms and laced them about his neck, lips claiming hers. "Then, stay with me tonight. One more night," he murmured, pressing her hard against him. She surrendered, hugging him close.
"One more night," she agreed.
In the morning, she had crept out of the castle without warning. A note was left on the table in both Alistair's room and her own for them both to see. No one was to follow her. Ever. If she came back, it would be on her own terms.
There was a noise outside, the gentle scraping of a horse's hoof as it trailed across the frozen ground. She jerked awake, careful not to wake her daughter. Shifting Rinna aside gently, Elda was on her feet in moments, staff in hand. With a few whispered words, she smothered the fire in ice, eyes glowing in the darkness. Too loud and hard to be a wolf's paw trailing across the ground. She crept along the floor of the cave with the skill of one used to such slippery terrain. Tiny flakes caught on her eyelashes as she peeked around the cave wall.
Four men, two on horses, stared back at her with swords raised. Templars.
One of them emerged from the snow out of nowhere and struck her hard with his sheild. She went down, falling on the cold, unforgiving ice and dropping her staff. When he glance down at her, she barred her teeth, blood seeping between her gums. His face twisted in anger, and he cocked back his arm, intending to run her through with the sword. She rolled to the side just as the sword sunk deep into the icy surface and lifted her hands to the sky. Ice was her element. They were on her land, in her element, and none of them stood a chance.
She froze one of them just as he got close and shot a ball of lightning at him, shattering the glass sculpture into a thousand tiny, bloody pieces. A man with a limp closed in, a dagger scraping her arm, blood welling. She grabbed him around the throat and burned his skull with the palm of her hand, shoving him toward the horses. Seconds later, the poor man exploded, coating her with blood and getting drops of it in her mouth. She relished in it. It had been so long since she'd fought against real, breathing men. The animals were fun, but this...this was a chase. Working and surviving against creatures that could think critically, not just lash out with their teeth was what got her blood flowing.
Another fell, and another. Each succumbed to her spells, coating her with rich, metallic blood. When a man began to scream, she paused, mind in a blood haze.
"Stop! Please, stop!" he pleaded over the wind. Dismounting, he approached her and kneeled, holding out a scroll. "It is from Alistair, the king of Ferelden."
Shock flooded her skull. She grasped the scroll with bloody fingers and opened it up.
Dear Elda Surana,
Look, I know you said that we shouldn't look for you. If you were going to come back, then you would come back on your own terms. I've abided by that for eight years now. I would leave you alone, but we have a huge problem going on here in Ferelden, and I just caught word of your whereabouts. Please, come back to us, just to check in. I need your help. Leliana, Zevran, Wynne, and Oghren are here as well. I (there were several scratched out words after that) I don't want to tell you in a letter. That seems so impersonal. Just...we all miss you. We don't want you to come back just because of this problem, Elda. Please, we need your help. We can't do it without your leadership.
Sincerely,
Alistair, King of Ferelden
Maric's insignia was pressed into a soft waxy substance on the seal. She glanced over at the cave, the blood on her hands, her daughter's round, startled face, the pleading man in front of her. She saw Rinna's face, Zevran's face, and a knot formed in her stomach. No, she couldn't go back. Not without letting Zevran know of her. Not without either letting him think she betrayed him or taking away his freedom.
"Alistair, you always ask too much of me," she whispered into the cold, frozen night air. With her daughter watching, though the thought of Rinna seeing such carnage made her close her eyes in pain, she bent down beside the kneeling templar and picked up his sword. With a determined swing, she sliced open his throat and watched as the blood sprayed across her furs. "Not this time."
She crumpled the note and threw it into the snow, eyes glowing a bloody red.
Sorry if there's been a constant tattoo theme in my stories, lol. I just got a bunch of spider lilies on my left shoulder all the way up from my elbow. They're so amazing. I love tattoos.