This all belongs to Bioware, obviously. I got tired of waiting for DA4 and decided to write a fic of my own. If everything goes well, the story will encompass the events of Awakening, Witch Hunt, II, Inquisition, and the novels and comics (except that shitty comic that had young Greagoir beating the mages), except they will have taken into account the changes I've implemented to the world in 9:30 Dragon and how they will ripple through the canon we all know and love. This story assumes a working knowledge of all the DA games, and you might be lost without that. I've already got 12 chapters written and up to slaying the Archdemon outlined. Enjoy and review!
Most chapters will be nowhere near as long as the prologue, and they'll get shorter as the group starts to split up.
If it's too much to read, the prologue is skippable, but you might wanna come back to it later!
Prologue: Origins
"Mother! Mother, when is it that we are leaving? Is it soon?" Flemeth's most recent daughter asked her, eager to finally meet the slender and beautiful elves of legend.
Only five years old, Morrigan had already provided Flemeth with more headaches than her past two daughters combined, much to her annoyance. However, Asha'bellanar knew it was worth it: she could feel power in this vessel, power that she had not sensed for ages, and that made all of Morrigan's inane prattling worth it. Flemeth would teach her how to behave soon enough; she always did. If Morrigan refused to behave, well, Flemeth had ways of ensuring obedience. She had been doing this for hundreds of years.
"Mother! I'm ready! Let's go!" Morrigan called up to her mother, who had said she was searching for something in the tower that was attached to the hut Morrigan called home.
She was not yet allowed up there, and despite wanting nothing more than to know what secrets her mother kept in her tower, Morrigan dared not venture in for fear of Flemeth's full wrath, which she had endured not but a week or two ago when she came across that beautiful golden mirror that she still missed so dearly. Flemeth finally answered her daughter, and though Morrigan could not see her mother's face, she could certainly hear the anger in her voice.
"If you do not stop pestering me, girl, you will not leave at all! I will leave you in the Wilds to fend for yourself until I return and you will have to wait another few years to meet any elves. Now, you will be silent and you will be still until I say otherwise. Do you understand?"
"Yes, mother," Morrigan sighed.
She directed her gaze at her muddy feet, standing like a solemn sentinel until mother had found whatever it was she had been looking for. Mother surely could not blame Morrigan for being excited, could she? She had not been in the best temperament as of late, that was certain, but she no matter how cranky she was, she had to understand that it was Morrigan's first time meeting elves. Elves! Morrigan could scarcely believe it. Now, if only mother would hurry up, Morrigan could finally go an adventure. Not a scary adventure, not like the ones mother would share with her on those lonely nights in the Wilds, but a real adventure, with heroes, knights, dragons, and the lot! Speaking of dragons…
Mother emerged from her hut with a crooked smile on her face. She was dressed in her rags, as usual. Admittedly, Morrigan was slightly disappointed; she enjoyed seeing mother in her dragonskin leather and silverite armour. Her long black hair was blowing in the breeze and her scheming yellow eyes looked as beautiful as ever. There was something most curious about mother's today, however: she had a silver blade strapped to her hip, engraved with runes the likes of which Morrigan had never seen. However, Morrigan knew better than to ask about it with the mood Flemeth was in today.
Asha'bellanar was pleased to see that Morrigan was standing exactly where she left her, looking meek and obedient, and exactly as Flemeth had asked. First, she breaks them, and then she builds them back up to create something suitable to her needs. She looked down at her daughter, smiling mischievously, as she always did, and spoke.
"Well, girl, are you ready?"
"Of course mother!"
"Then show me," Flemeth responded, challenging her.
Morrigan closed her eyes, and when she opened them again Flemeth saw that they had changed; they were no longer the curious amber eyes of a five year old, but the black eyes of a raven, tricky and troublesome. The rest of her body followed suit: she began sprouting feathers and contorting her body into the shape of a raven until she had transformed completely. Flemeth had to hide her surprise: not only was Morrigan's transformation speed improving, but she had finally mastered this form; Flemeth could find no flaws. And at the age of five! Smiling inwardly, Flemeth thought to herself 'Trouble indeed, this one,' before addressing her daughter and transforming herself.
"Ha! I suppose that was adequate, girl. Now don't fall behind!" In a flash of light, Asha'bellanar was transformed herself into a raven, sword and all, and together with her daughter, set off to see the walkers of the lonely path.
"Did you hear? Another Aeducan born today, and a girl this time! Diala's her name," the father of Kalah Brosca's beloved children grumbled as he entered their shack in Dust Town.
"Not so loud!" Kalah cautioned. "You might wake the kids!"
"Right, right, the kids. Sorry, hon. So how was your day?" he asked, kissing his beloved and greeting his son before he sat down to have some ale after a long day at work.
Before responding, Kalah took a second to admire the man in front of her. He was handsome and strong, hard-working and dependable and, somehow, despite being casteless, good and honest. How he had survived for so long in Dust Town and not lost those qualities, she had no idea, but she thanked the Ancestors every day that he had. He had striking sea green eyes and jet black hair, just like his son, Mayrin, who she was holding in her arms. His skin was tanned and callused from a lifetime of hard work. She loved this man more than she could express: he loved her, he cared for her, he gave her another child, and he supported her no matter what, even if that meant working overwhelming hours at terrible jobs. Most importantly, though, he never lied to her. She had to do something to reward him, she felt, and had a big surprise planned for him in two days time.
"I can't complain," Kalah stated truthfully. "The kids were good, nobody threatened to rob us, and little Rica even wrangled herself a nug! You should have seen the look on her face, so proud to've caught us such a nice dinner."
"That's nice, Kalah," Mayrin's father said distractedly.
"You okay?" Kalah asked, sensing that something was amiss. "Anything wrong?"
"No, no… Just… I just had a really long day at work is all, and I'm off to bed."
"Already?"
"'Fraid so," he said, gulping down the last of his ale and heading off to sleep.
"I'll join you as soon as I put Mayrin to bed!"
And that was the last time Kalah kissed Mayrin's father good night, for in the morning he was gone without a trace. He left them nothing except a few copper pieces to feed themselves with for a few days. Of course, food is not what Kalah Brosca spent them on, for that was the day she bought mosswine for the first time in over a decade. That also happened to be the day the kind and grateful, if slightly naive, Kalah Brosca disappeared into a bottle, never to be seen again.
Another new arrival! Jaime could hardly wait. Maybe this one would make the tower a little bit more fun. Not only did Jaime Amell miss his family terribly, but he missed his friends, or just having friends in general. None of the other apprentices his age ever wanted to do anything fun, not like his old friends did. He missed his companions and he missed his mother and he missed Kirkwall; this entire country smelled like a wet dog. Jaime positioned himself as close as was permitted to the Circle's entrance, as he did whenever there was a new arrival, and waited patiently for the new apprentice to arrive.
He happened to know one of the two templars that guarded the door today, Knight-Captain Greagoir. He was nice enough, and smiled at Jaime as he approached, offering a little wave.
"Some of the older apprentices said you were going to be Knight-Commander soon! Is that true? Will you be the boss then?" Jaime inquired innocently.
Chuckling a little bit, Greagoir responded, pointing his finger playfully at the seven-year old, "I am not sure yet, child, but I sure hope so! And yes, that would mean I'm in charge, so you better get on my good side now!"
Greagoir's joking demeanour solicited another giggle from Jaime, who was surely about to ask yet another question, but was interrupted when the doors to the front of the tower were unlocked, opening to reveal a single templar and a small elven child. The elf had mossy green eyes and long curly hair that was black like the night. His dark skin meant he was possibly Rivaini, or from somewhere around there, Jaime reflected. He would have to ask him about that later.
"Hello! How do you do? I'm Jaime. Jaime Amell, from Kirkwall. It's nice to meet you! What's your name?"
"R-Rayne," the small elf responded nervously, fear in his eyes.
"Run along now, apprentice," Greagoir commanded. "You can pester the new arrival later, after he's had his orientation."
Solemnly, Jaime left and returned to the apprentice quarters. Curiously enough, there was an elven mage waiting for him there. Leorah was her name, and he knew her well enough, as she had just passed her Harrowing a month ago. She was always kind to him. She smiled at Jaime, greeting him warmly, and as if expecting a barrage of questions from the young apprentice, she simply stated:
"I am responsible for the new apprentice's orientation. Yes, I have enjoyed my time as a full-fledged mage thus far, it has been quite the experience. Yes, I volunteered to do the orientation-"
"Can-" Jaime attempted to interject, but Leorah kept going.
"And yes, I suppose you can accompany us for the orientation, if you really want, so long as you are not a distraction- and that you don't mention it to Greagoir."
Jaime was very impressed that Leorah could read his mind. He wondered if he would ever learn to do that when he became a mage. Leorah smiled internally, proud of herself for being able to deal with one of the Circle's brightest, and definitely it's most exuberant, young mind. He was a good lad, even if he was a bit of a nuisance at times. He would make a good mage one day, and hopefully she would be a Senior Enchanter by then.
The new apprentice was soon led into his quarters by Greagoir, who motioned to Leorah, a blonde-haired and recently-harrowed elven mage of moderate talent. Rayne's eyes lit up when he saw that an elf, and not a human, would be giving him his orientation, and that his mother had not been lying to him when she said that elves and humans were equals in the Circle of Magi.
Despite being separated from mother and his family in the alienage, Rayne could tell he was going to like it here: it was warm, everybody had clean clothes, there was furniture that did not look like it would fall apart at any minute, and the smell… It smelled like books, not refuse! That was what he liked most of all. Leorah led him around the tower, explaining what each room was for and where he was and was not allowed, and she introduced him to everybody along the way. Everyone seemed so nice here, even the templars, despite what he had heard. He met all kinds of people: Irving and Sweeney, Torren and Niall, Uldred and Wynne. This was all so exciting! This Jaime, especially, who had been following him and Leorah around, and pestering Rayne with questions, seemed to be completely genuine in his friendliness, not like the other human children he had encountered back home.
Jaime was happy the orientation was over, as he already knew everything that Leorah was explaining to Rayne. During the orientation, he learned a few things: Rayne Surana was from the alienage in Highever. His mother had lived there her whole life, but his father arrived there from Rivain a few decades ago. It was his father who had taught him how to read, but the man had recently died of fever, and Rayne still seemed quite sad about it. Jaime noticed how fearful Rayne seemed throughout the entire tour, despite his smiles, and made an effort to be as friendly as possible. Rayne even explained how he had been brought to the tower: when he accidentally froze the water he was drinking, his mother reported him to the templars straight away, which had surprised Jaime. What kind of mother would do that?
"She knew that I could have a better life here at the Circle than I ever would in the alienage, so she was sad about saying goodbye, but really happy for me because she knew I would never have to be hungry, and that I could read so many more books than the three we had at home," Rayne explained.
Jaime supposed it made sense; he had heard about how bad things were in Alienages, but he had never thought the Circle would be better! After returning to the apprentice quarters and getting Rayne's bed set up, Jaime was ready to have some fun! Much to his dismay, however, Rayne wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of the day in the library. It wasn't like Jaime had anything better to do, though, so he accompanied his new elven friend.
Rayne was in awe: so many books in one place! He sensed that Jaime wouldn't enjoy spending long here, but he couldn't resist! He could spend a whole week in here and still not read a tenth of the collection! Him and Jaime spent the better part of the afternoon in library, until dinnertime. After that, Jaime insisted that they do something fun. Smiling, Rayne put a finger on his lips and crept outside near where a templar was standing guard. He bent down, put his hands on the floor, and closed his eyes. Jaime noticed that the floor was getting coated with some kind of shiny, clear, substance: grease, perhaps. It slithered across the floor to where the templar was standing. The templar shifted his weight a bit, as it must get uncomfortable standing in the same position for so long, and slipped on the grease, toppling over and landing on his stomach. Jaime couldn't help but laugh, and the templar saw them right away, yelling angrily. He tried to get up and fell over again, cursing. Rayne and Jaime took that as a cue to leave a dashed away as quickly as they could, hiding for half an hour until they were sure it was safe, unable to stop smiling at each other. Rayne hoped that that qualified as fun.
That night was marked as the night that Amell and Surana's reign of terror began; for years their pranks kept everyone on their toes. Yet, despite their disruptions, even the Senior Enchanters admitted that they were a bit disappointed when Rayne and Jaime declared that they had 'grown out of it', as they had always brought some much-needed levity to the otherwise somber Circle Tower.
"Welcome home, kadan," Tallis said, standing to greet his heart.
"Kadan," Hissrad responded happily, and rose to try something the two of them had observed the humans doing since their escape: a hug. It was awkward and forced, and especially difficult considering Hissrad's horns were pointed forward, but the two Tal-Vashoth found comfort in the gesture.
"How was the audience with their… Arl?" he asked hopefully, peering into his kadan's violet eyes.
"It went well enough, I believe. Like most humans we've met, Arl Wulff was suspicious and did not say all that was on his find, but he was truthful in his exchanges with me, and seemed the steadfast sort. He admitted he had never seen another of our kind before, but advised me that as long as we follow the laws of the land and pay taxes, we are free to do with this freehold what we wish. He warned me of old prejudices against foreign agents, due to some disagreements with the neighbouring nation from a few years back. Still, he did not believe we were 'Orlesian'— whatever that means— and gave us his permission."
"That is agreeable. Still, I must admit that I have yet to fully comprehend the nuances of human society. It seems chaotic, at best. No one has a place here. Their farmers wish to be merchants. The merchants dream of being nobles, and the nobles become warriors. No one is content to be who they are."
"Who we are, kadan. For all intents and purposes, we are Fereldan now as well. Fereldan Tal-Vashoth. And is that not the reason we came here? To change our lot in life? To have the freedom to finally choose what to be, for the first time ever?"
Regarding his paramour with amusement, he embraced her once again in that thing called a hug, finding more success this time. He had also seen humans press their lips together as a sign of affection, and would have to try that as well, even if he failed to see the reason behind it. "Indeed it was."
"Speaking of names, we will need to pick new ones. When Arl Wulff asked my name, I thought he was trying to play an odd human joke on me, but it turns out that neither 'farmer' nor 'freeholder' is not a sufficient response. Apparently, a human's name and its role within society are two separate and unrelated concepts."
"Truly? Then our Arl is not truly swift and ferocious as a wolf?"
"It would appear not."
"Unfortunate. What are out choices?"
"I am unsure. I was told by the Arl the choice is ours', and that it need not have significance."
"Interesting. What about Tal and Vashoth?"
"Truly. kadan? No. We have left the Qun, left that life entirely. I would not like to be constantly reminded of it, and neither would you."
"Very well. Our new leader is called Wulff, a powerful and respectable beast of the south. Thus, I shall be Panther: strong and swift and decisive."
"Logical. That seems like a decent human name, and is sure to garner respect. I shall be Bear: strong, powerful and ferocious."
"Yet not bereft of mercy, kadan," Panther said, giving Bear a knowing look.
"True enough. And there is one last name we need to decide."
"There are only two of us, Bear."
"That is where you are mistaken, kadan," Bear said, softly laying a hand on her abdomen.
Without missing a beat, Panther put his hand on her's and said: "It seems I was not so wrong after all. This child is a symbol of our new life together, and will serve as a reminder of the virtue that saved us from a life of servitude: Mercy."
"Yes, that's it Evelyn! Good. Just like that. No, don't drop your elbow… Good, but you're still dropping that elbow. Yes, perfect!" Adaia said, critiquing her daughter's form as she fought against imaginary shemlen.
"Die, shem!" Evelyn bellowed, thrusting the air with one of her daggers.
"Now, now," Adaia scolded, half-joking. "Be nice."
She knew what her husband thought of what they were doing, but she didn't really care. She was proud of her daughter, proud that she was teaching her to take care of herself. They sparred almost daily, and Evelyn improved each time. Aside from that, she was as quick and agile as the smallest cat, and would not be heard unless she wanted to. They both knew that Evelyn would most likely never have a chance to use the skills her mother was teaching her, but neither of them cared; they were useful, practice was fun, and Evelyn would rather know how to take care of herself than not.
Evelyn was just about halfway through her warmup when Adaia's niece, Shianni, barged in, panic in her eyes.
"Adaia, Adaia!" Shianni cried, tears streaming down her young face. "We need your help! There are shemlen here and Valendrian is in trouble and you're the best fighter I know and I don't know what we should do and-"
"Hush, dear," Adaia said, trying to pacify her niece. "Stay here, you two," Adaia commanded, taking as many of her daggers as she could possibly conceal. She knew the law: elves weren't allowed to carry weapons.
Adaia left her house and made her way to the alienage's vhenedahl, where the commotion was coming from. She saw two shemlen men, one armed with a longsword and the other two daggers. Their armour did not indicate any status, nor did it bear any sigils, but they were armoured, a fact that made Adaia curse under her breath. However, their shoddy armour meant that they would not cause any more trouble after Adaia dealt with them. They were motioning towards a young girl whose name Adaia could not recall, was cowering behind Valendrian. Calm and collected as ever, Valendrian was trying to get them to leave.
"Please, we have no quarrel with you. Just run along and we'll forget this ever happened."
"You hear that?" one shem said to the other. "Bloody knife-ear here thinks he can tell us what to do!"
The other one let out a hearty laugh that made Adaia's skin crawl.
"That he does! Listen here, knife-ear, this is how it's gonna go: you're gonna get out of our way and let us have that pretty little lass behind you, or my friend and I are gonna go on a little rabbit hunt."
Just as the one began to draw his longsword, a knowing grin began to creep across Valendrian's face. He spotted Adaia on her way to the vhenedahl and offered a challenge.
"Is that so?"
And then Adaia was on them in a fury. Despite carrying them as precautions, Adaia had little need of her daggers. She flew at the one, delivering a swift knee to the back of his head and knocking him out cold. She pushed Valendrian out of the way, getting in between the shem and her family. He drew his sword and took a clumsy swing at her, Adaia easily sidestepping it and elbowing him in the nose, breaking it as easily as one breaks glass, and causing him to let his sword tumble to the soft earth. Quick as a fox, she snatched it up, simultaneously pushing the remaining shem to the ground. She held his sword at his throat and growled, "Like our elder said, just run along and we'll forget this ever happened."
Terrified, he stood up, blood still streaming out of his nose. He threw his friend over his shoulder and skirted away with his tail between his legs. Realizing it would be trouble later, Adaia threw the sword over the gates, never to be seen again. After ensuring the girl who was being threatened by the shemlen was unharmed, she took a moment to take in her surroundings. She looked around the alienage and saw happy, thankful faces greeting her, clapping for her and cheering her name. Even Evelyn and Shianni, whom she was sure she told to stay inside, were among them, eyes full of wonder. She chuckled, despite the situation, and looked at her husband, Cyrion, who had made his way to the vhenedahl as well.
"No," she teased Cyrion, with a rueful smile and sad triumph, "Evelyn will never need to know how to defend herself."
Evelyn followed her parents back home, wondering why her mother never stuck around to hear people thank her or praise her. Seeing her take down two armed shemlen with her bare hands was so exciting, and she could see the other elves felt the same way. Her mother was remarkable! What some considered 'remarkable', however, was nothing special to Adaia; it was just another day in the alienage.
"Dammit!" a young Fergus Cousland swore as his arrow missed yet another bullseye.
His failure merited a chuckle from young Thomas Howe, who Fergus liked just as little as his father, Rendon. Both reminded him of vipers. He sometimes wondered how Nathaniel and Delilah had turned out so well. Perhaps it was their mother who was responsible for that, but as he had never met the woman, he could not say.
"Don't worry," Nathaniel said, putting a hand on Fergus' shoulder. "You'll get it. Good… Good. Keep your bow steady and-"
Fergus loosed another arrow. It landed nowhere near the bullseye, but it was closer than he had ever come before, and that made him happy. His younger brother, Keegan, gave him an congratulatory punch on the arm, and Nathaniel nodded, giving him an approving smile. Thomas grumbled a bit, but Fergus didn't really care about Thomas Howe.
"Getting better!" Teryn Bryce Cousland, Keegan and Fergus' father, called out from across the way. He was sitting on a wooden chair and sipping wine with his friend, Arl Rendon Howe, who in turn raised a glass for Fergus, giving him the most insincere smile the young Cousland had ever seen.
"Alright, my turn!" Keegan insisted, snatching the bow from his brother.
He began to line up his shot, seemingly ignoring any advice Nathaniel was giving. Apparently not doing very much aiming, he loosed his arrow, landing a bullseye, which shocked everybody there, Keegan included. Bryce and Rendon sat there looking stunned for a few seconds before Nathaniel began clapping for Keegan, everybody else soon following suit.
"It seems we've finally found your weapon, pup!" Bryce called out happily. "Your mother will be so happy to hear of it."
And so was Keegan. He was not gifted in swordplay; his brother got the better of him no matter which weapon they sparred with and no matter how much time he spent with their master-of-arms. He loosed a few more arrows, none of them landing exactly where he wanted, but all of them very close. He was a bit disheartened, but Nathaniel ruffled his bright red hair and offered words of reassurance:
"Hey, this is your first time! I'm gonna tell you a little secret," he said, crouching to get on Keegan's level and whispering in his ear. "You're better than I was when I started! I can't tell you how many times I shot right over the target," he said, demonstrating with his hand just how off the mark his shots used to be.
Keegan stayed out at the range practically all night, even after everybody else went inside, and much to his surprise and delight, so did Nathaniel. The boy was a few years older than he was, but Keegan believed he had made a new friend that night. He was lucky that the Couslands and the Howes were such close friends. It was nearly midnight when Eleanor Cousland, Keegan's clever and kind-hearted mother, came out to tell her son and Nathaniel that it was time to come inside, her bright red hair shining in the moonlight. However, in her arms, she held a small mabari puppy, who was looking around excitedly, taking in new sights and smells.
"Mother!" Keegan yelled excitedly. "Is that a mabari puppy? Is it for me?!"
He ran to meet his mother, with Nathaniel in tow, and scratched the new puppy behind its ears. Asking permission first, Nathaniel did the same, fascinated by the dog.
"In truth, this one was supposed to be for your brother, but the pup did not seem too taken with Fergus, so I brought him out to see you and-"
The mabari bounded out of her arms and ran towards Keegan, tail wagging. Keegan sat down and hugged the puppy, making the mabari bark excitedly. Keegan laughed as his new friend licked his face, and Eleanor smiled down at her son.
"As I was saying, we wanted to see if the puppy would take a liking to you, and it seems he has decided that you are to be his owner. He needs a name, however, my dear."
"His name is… his name is Felix!"
"Felix, is it? Very well then. Understand that Felix will be your responsibility: you will feed him, walk him, train him, take responsibility for him, and clean up after him, even if the servants offer to do so. Should I ever learn that a servant cleaned up after your dog, I will ask Aldous to double your homework and Mother Mallol to triple your Chantry service for an entire month. Have I made myself clear?"
"Crystal," Keegan responded happily.
"Well, enjoy, you three, and off to bed soon. I understand you have an early day tomorrow."
"Of course, Teryna Eleanor," Nathaniel said politely.
"Yes, mother! Thank you so much for Felix! I really do appreciate it."
"Of course," Eleanor smiled, giving her son a kiss on the head before heading back inside for the night.
And there Keegan and Nathaniel stayed for another two hours, playing with Felix and enjoying each others' company. When he was going to bed, Felix curled up beside him, and Keegan was happy, realizing that he did not just make one new friend tonight. He made two.
Morrigan found elves to be a curious people. Unlike the humans she met, they neither recoiled in fear nor attacked in fury when mother appeared before them, touching down as a raven and turning back into the form with which Morrigan was so familiar. The elves… bowed to her mother, and called her by a name Morrigan had heard spoken only a few times: Asha'bellanar, or woman of many years, which is what Asha'bellanar meant when translated into the King's Tongue. However, Morrigan sensed that there was something quite wrong at the Dalish camp: the air was tense and somber, and there were no sounds to speak of save for a few choked sobs and gasps. Indeed, something bad had happened here.
After Flemeth decided that she had been worshipped enough for the day, she instructed the elves to rise, telling them she had no need to be worshipped. Morrigan, however, knew that that was a lie, and the opposite was true.
"Where is your Keeper?" Flemeth asked, addressing nobody specific. There were quiet murmurs for awhile until a young elf stepped out of the crowd, bowing to Flemeth once again, choking back tears.
"Forgive us Asha'bellanar… But our Keeper died just last night, and his wife was badly wounded as well. Marethari is trying to save her and the baby as we speak."
Flemeth raised an eyebrow, her lips contorting into a crooked smile.
"Nonsense! You know as well as I that you Dalish always have a Keeper. Take me to Marethari," Morrigan's mother commanded, appearing equal parts amicable and threatening.
"Of course, Asha'bellanar," the young elf said, rising from his knees and setting off towards a large tent, bidding Flemeth and Morrigan to follow him.
The scene that awaited them in the tent was a terrible sight to behold, but far from the worst Morrigan had ever seen, thanks to Mother. Even before Morrigan saw the pools of blood on the ground, she could smell it in the air. There was a dead elven woman on a stretcher, her numerous stab wounds still trickling blood. In the corner of the tent, there was another elven woman sitting on ground, sobbing a covered in blood, clutching what appeared to be a baby's corpse.
"Marethari," mother said, with not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. "What has happened?"
The elven woman took a second to compose herself, looking up at mother with sad, elven eyes. The Mahariels were attacked last night… The Keeper was killed and his wife died birthing her child… Who also did not survive. I- I failed them. The Mahariel line ends here because I was not strong enough, or wise enough, or skilled enough to save them!" Marethari said, before she started sobbing again.
"Mother!" Morrigan said, noticeably distressed by the scene in front of her. "You can save them! I know you can!"
"I'm well-aware of what I can do," Flemeth snapped at her daughter, before realizing that an opportunity had presented itself to her. "Very well," Flemeth said, feigning exasperation, "I will save the child, provided that you do something for me."
"Of course, mother," Morrigan pleaded, eyes full of hope.
"No more disobedience and no more questioning. You will do what I say when I say without fail, without a single protest. If you disobey me again, I will find this child, no matter where she is and no matter old she is, I will bring her back to the Wilds, and I will kill her in front of you, slowly, painfully, making you watch every moment, and it will be all your fault. Do I make myself clear?"
"I- yes, mother," Morrigan said meekly.
"Give me the child, Marethari," Asha'bellanar commanded.
Slowly, Marethari stood up, and brought the baby to Asha'bellanar. Flemeth took the child in one arm, and with the other placed a hand over the baby. Her hand began to emit an eerie white light, and then, all of the sudden, the baby's blue eyes opened, and she started crying, soliciting tears of joy from Marethari.
"Thank you, Asha'bellanar! Thank you!"
"Oh, don't thank me, Marethari, thank my dear Morrigan, who pleaded for the child's life, moving me to act," Flemeth said, her voice heavy with sarcasm, satisfied in making her daughter believe that she did this as part of a bargain when, in reality, this child was the entire reason Flemeth had come in the first place.
Marethari crouched down and thanked Morrigan, and a sadness crept inside her, knowing what was in store for the poor child.
"Now, there are other things to be done," Flemeth said, all business. "Was the child named?"
"No, Asha'bellanar, or if she was, her parents died before telling anybody else."
"Very well. Her name will be Enid. Enid Mahariel. Not elven, no, but a good name nonetheless. Now," she said, drawing the sword she had brought with her, "this was to be given to your Keeper. The sword is called Rage's End. It is a fine blade of elven make, and forged by the Mahariels' ancestors before The People called the Dales home. Though anybody can wield it, only a Mahariel may use it as it was intended. So, I suppose you can give it to Enid here when she comes of age," Flemeth chuckled as she laid the sword on the table.
Marethari took a second to admire the blade: it was beautiful and obviously quite ancient; that much she could tell, at least. Curiously enough, it was not made of ironbark, as most dalish weapons are. Its handle was forged from the same metal the blade was: a beautiful, reflective, metal, most likely silverite, and there were runes carved all along both sides of the blade that she did not recognize. Bowing awkwardly, since she was holding the still-crying Enid in her arms, Marethari thanked Flemeth and Morrigan both, and the two women morphing into ravens, on their way back to the Wilds without even saying goodbye, both quite satisfied. Morrigan believed she had saved a life, and she even got to see Dalish elves. Their camp had been beautiful, statues and land ships everywhere the eye could see. Flemeth was even more pleased than her daughter: everything had gone better than expected. Through some quick thinking, she had ensured Morrigan's obedience by doing nothing more than exactly what she had intended to do when she had initially left the Wilds, and she had ensured that the Fifth Blight, which she knew would arrive soon, would end before it ever really began, thanks to Enid and her fate-touched comrades.
Arriving back in the Wilds, Flemeth and Morrigan returned to their human forms. Turning to her daughter, Flemeth commanded Morrigan to go out into the Wilds and catch them some rabbit, for that was what Flemeth wanted for dinner. And, without a word of protest, Morrigan obeyed. It had been a good day indeed.