AN: Inspired by the lovely K-Meme prompt:
"In her previous life, f!Lavellan was a devout priestess of Mythal and Abelas was the sentinel she fell in love with. Cue forbidden love, secret trysts in the gardens and inevitable heartbreak."
Trigger Warning for: Mentions of blood. Protagonist undergoes his vallaslin ritual, which involves ancient tattooing methods mixed with Elvhen lore.
This work is also posted on my A03 account. The link to which can be found on my profile. Please check there if you wish to see the link to the original prompt
This work has not been proofread or edited by anyone other than myself. I acknowledge and apologize for any errors still present
Before he cloaked himself in Sorrow, he had another name: Revas, freedom. In the life that had come prior to the mark finding its way on to her palm, she was known as Sulahnni, a song.
The morning light shone through the stretching spires of the Temple of Mythal, casting dark lines on the dirt of the Len'am Sentinel training yard. Revas stood in the brightest patch of light, smiling a little as he felt the warmth of the sun bloom underneath his training armor. The familiar sounds of swords clanging, bows drawing, arrows flying and magic whistling filled his ears; though all at once shrill and harsh, they're the sounds he has grown up listening and he takes an odd comfort in the familiarity of it all. He waited shoulder to shoulder with his friend and spar partner Adahl as the pair in front of them finished their melee. The two len'am fought viciously; even with their faces covered by their hoods, Revas could see the flash of white on Alana's face as she grit her teeth. All the while Fylion snarled curses and vague threats towards her as their swords collided with enough force to make them both wince. Alana pushed him off of her weapon and whirled around him, her blade singing through the air. He ducked the strike and struck her with the pommel of his sword. She gasped and fell to one knee, but rose again swiftly.
"He's strong, but she's quick," Adahl remarked softly.
"Speed and strength are important, but they do not win battles," Revas replied. "Alana will win, she desires it more. She puts her heart behind every strike. Fylion only wishes to impress the Elders. He puts his pride into his blows, not his heart."
Adahl chuckled, "like you, my friend. The only time I see you truly at ease is with a weapon in your hand."
"We all have a home somewhere, brother."
The battle shifted four strikes later when Fylion stole a glance towards the Elders observing their spar. Alana saw her moment to strike and took it with a sharp kick to Fylion's side. He crumpled to his knees and yielded as Alana pressed her blade against his throat. When the Elders accepted his yield, she put her sword down and held out her hand to Fylion. He took it graciously and thumped her on the back as they straightened. They bowed to the Elders together and left the ring smiling, all anger and hurt feelings having disappeared as soon as the match ended. At their Elder's nod, Revas and Adahl stepped into the ring for their turn. The sand in the ring felt soft underneath his boots. They approached the weapon wrack and as his hands gripped the familiar leather-wrapped hilt of his blade, Revas's heart beat harder in anticipation of the fight to come. Battle was a thrill, a thing he reveled in; the feeling of raising his sword and crashing it down or nocking an arrow and letting it fly made Revas feel alive. But, it was shameful. A Sentinel only raised his sword for the honor, glory and protection of Mythal and her priestesses. A Sentinel did not seek out conflict in order to let his sword drink the blood of his enemies. Yet, he longed for the days when they held tournaments and len'am fought each other to prove who was the best warrior among them. Revas had won the previous tournament and the thought of it still made his chest ping with happiness.
They bowed to their Elders before bowing to each other. They stood at the ready, swords held up and Revas felt a grin slide on to his face. Adahl smirked, shaking his head. While Revas took pride on his martial skill, Adahl was not by any means, weak or ill matched to him. Where Revas was resilient and had more stamina than some of the Elder Sentinels, Adahl was cunning, fast and disarmed his opponents with smiles and the strength of his limbs. Adahl focused on ending battles quickly, while Revas tried to prolong them and allow his opponent to tire before he bested them. His friend, ever the more impatient, let loose a battle cry and lunged, his blade arcing overhead. Revas sidestepped it easily, twisting and stuck out his leg to trip Adahl. The other elvhen jumped over the limb and rolled forward as he collided into the ground. Adahl's hood fell back from his face and the sun kissed his dark hair, which was longer than Revas remembered. Amber eyes sparkled with a barking laugh, as Adahl seemed to relish in the feeling of the sun on his skin. Revas took the opportunity to lunge forward, thrusting his blade towards his friend's shoulder. Adahl parried the strike easily. They traded blows like that, back and forth, for several minutes. Adahl's strength was beginning to wane and the young elvhen was making careless mistakes. He'd leave himself open a moment too long, allowing for Revas to get a well-timed blow in; he'd hesitate and Revas would be able to dodge. Adahl was grinning at him, though in his fatigue it resembled more of a grimace.
"Enough." Their heads snapped towards the source of the interruption. It was Elder Paiwen, the master of all len'am in the temple. It was his duty to oversee the training and maturation of every elvhen bound to become Sentinels. The two len'am stopped their slow circling immediately and straightened at the sound of the Elder's voice breaking their battle focus. They bowed to the Elder and held their gaze to the floor in respect. "You have both done well."
"Thank you, Hahren," they answered simultaneously.
"It is time."
Adahl's breath hissed through his teeth and Revas felt his mouth go dry. They looked up, twin smiles growing on their faces. Elder Paiwen's face remained impassive, but Revas was certain he could see a flicker of pride in the older elvhen's eyes. Their brethren cheered for them and swarmed the two of them, offering their congratulations and their fare-thee-wells. Once len'am had been deemed ready, they were separated and taken deep into the temple for meditation. The following day, the elvhen at the age of maturity would undergo the ritual to receive their vallaslin, which would forever mark them as servants of Mythal. The ritual was done in the outer sanctum of the temple, in the open air and in complete silence before all of the temple's inhabitants. The elvhen undergoing the ritual had to remain quiet while enduring the pain of the ritual. Revas had seen several rituals performed in his life and could remember the few len who screamed or cried. They were taken back into the world of the len and had to endure the shame of knowing that they'd have to undergo the ritual more than once. When the other len'am finally let them pass, Elder Paiwen took them deeper into the temple than they had ever been before. Len'am, the Sentinels who had not yet proven themselves, were not allowed inside the temple proper. As they passed through the giant stone doors leading into the interior sanctuary, Revas had to bite back a gasp of awe. He could hear Adahl's breath hitch, as the other elvhen was not as successful at concealing his wonder. Paiwen chuckled under his breath a little.
"Mythal's sanctum could rival Arlathan for beauty," the Elder murmured.
Revas had never seen Arlathan. Yet, the splendor before him was beyond his imagining. Huge stone pillars, carved to look like trees, towered over them in neat rows down the length of the chamber. Each column was shining brightly with white and gleaming gold; golden tiles stretched in beautiful swirling patterns beneath their feet and the walls were covered in brightly colored mosaics of Mythal and renditions of her many legends. It was quiet, peaceful inside and Revas found himself hoping he would be placed in a similar chamber once he became a true Sentinel. Paiwen ushered them through the beautiful chamber, across a courtyard, down a set of grand stone steps and finally into a small antechamber. Revas' eyes darted around, taking in every detail he could. A Sentinel had to study his surroundings, know them in an instant and be prepared to use them to their advantage. The square room was darker than the rest of the temple, but still light enough to see. The walls were washed white and small stone benches sat in the middle of the room. It was a room for meditation, he realized. It was the place they were to have their vigil before the ceremony. Revas found himself unable to stand completely still. He drummed his fingers against his thighs as his felt his heart hammer quickly against his chest. Elder Paiwen waited with them, the man's calming presence doing little to soothe Revas's rapidly fraying nerves.
A few moments later, two figures in white robes appeared in the doorway. Priestesses, he realized with a start. Len'am were not permitted contact with priestesses, though he could remember seeing the young initiates every so often as they took constitutionals outside of the inner sanctuary. One looked very young, even younger than Adahl and himself. The priestess accompanying her had a face already marked with a vallaslin. Belatedly, he understood that older priestess was the younger's hahren.
"Paiwen," the elder priestess greeted with a respectful dip of her head.
"Myriel," their Elder answered.
The Elders returned to silence while the young priestess stole looks at the two len'am underneath her lashes. Revas noticed that Adahl was trying not to grin. The novice was pretty enough, Revas supposed; with thick blonde hair curling down to her shoulders, sparkling green eyes and full lips, Revas understood the flush flowing across his friend's face, even if he did not share the feeling. Another moment later and another figure in white appeared in the chamber door. She was a tall, imposing figure whose white robes were much more elaborate than either of the two women already in the room. Her aged face was marked with the most complicated of Mythal's vallaslin, with flowing branches of black covering her forehead, under her eyes, sweeping up to her hairline and covering her chin and bottom lip. Only the most devout of Mythal's followers endured such markings. Even before Paiwen, Myriel and the young priestess began to fall to their knees in reverence, Revas knew this woman was the High Priestess of the temple. Revas grabbed Adahl by the arm and pulled him to his knees. They ducked their heads respectful and only rose when he heard the High Priestess murmur for them to stand. She stepped into the room and gestured behind her. A young woman stepped inside a moment later. Her head was down, causing her long black hair to fall and obscure her face. The High Priestess pressed a slender finger underneath the initiate's chin. The woman raised her gaze and bright violet eyes stared up at the priestess, adoration clear on her face. Revas stole a glance towards the blonde initiate and saw her glowering towards her onyx-headed counterpart.
"High Priestess," Elder Myriel murmured.
The eldest woman turned her body slightly, facing all of them. She smiled gently, the vallaslin around her eyes disappeared into the wrinkles of her aged skin. "Andaran atish'an, da'vhen," she said at last. They all murmured their greetings back to the revered woman. She continued, "you have all been judged to be at the age of maturity and will be able to prove yourselves worthy of receiving your vallaslin. You will spend tonight in this room, meditating and praying to Mythal for her guidance and protection as you leave your childhood behind. Tomorrow, you will endure the ritual and leave behind your youth forever."
They chorused their understanding to the High Priestess, who turned to the black haired initiate. "Sulahnni, you have chosen your vallaslin?"
She nodded, "yes, Hahren."
"I am pleased," the Elder said gently. "Mythal will reward your dedication, ma'len."
Paiwen wished them luck and departed with the other Elders. As they left, the High Priestess turned and waved her arm through the air. A bright, shining barrier of energy appeared in the doorway, sealing the young elvhen inside. Next to him, Adahl sighed, rubbing his neck. His friend glanced back to Revas, grinned and casually strolled over to the blonde novice. Revas sucked in a breath. They were still len'am, and as such they were forbidden from contact with the young priestesses. He could hear their soft conversation, though he tried not to listen, as he sat down on one of the stone benches. There was a bright and airy laugh from the blonde initiate. He shook his head and looked down at the stone floor, ready to meditate on Mythal. A flash of white out of the corner of his eye causes him to start and raise his head. The black haired woman - Sulahnni, the High Priestess had called her - sat on one of the stone benches, just out of his sight. He studied her, found himself noting the way the white sleeves of her robes ended just above the inside of her elbow and flared out behind in a curtain of gauzy fabric. Her hair contrasted sharply against the pristine cloth, the darkness of her mane brought out the smoothness of her skin. She looked up at him, suddenly, as if she had felt the weight of his gaze. Her lips pursed a little. Her eyebrow rose slowly, not in a challenge but rather, curiosity. Revas swallowed and offered her a small, respectful nod. She blinked, as if his reaction had taken her by surprise. A hand thumping his back caused Revas to jerk suddenly, his gaze ripping away from Sulahnni. He turned to see Adahl and the blonde novice had come to sit on the bench next to his.
Adahl jerked his thumb towards the blonde woman. "This is Nehn." Revas clenched his jaw, but dipped his head to her all the same. Adahl laughed, "len'am aren't allowed to talk to the initiates. Revas is a pillar of propriety."
Nehn laughed again and jerked her head towards Sulahnni; "I know he's got nothing on her. Sulahnni's been insufferable all of our lives and its only gotten worse since she's become the High Priestess's pet."
Revas gaze slid over to Sulahnni, whom he noticed had risen from her spot and was now pointedly seated as far away from them as possible. She had her head down, her eyes closed. Her lips moved every few moments, as if she were murmuring softly. She spoke too softly for him to hear any words, but from the somber expression on her face, he imagined her to be praying. He sat quietly for a moment, listening to Nehn and Adahl exchange inanities before closing his eyes as well. He blocked every influence from his mind that he could, focused on his breathing and on finding peace. Slowly the world around him ebbed away and he was left drifting inside the world of his thoughts. When the darkness of his closed eyes lifted, he found himself standing in the penitent's courtyard. A breeze shifted over his skin and he realized for the first time in as long as he could remember, he was not wearing his Sentinel armor, nor the heavy woolen robes they wore when they slept. An uncontrollable smile graced his features as he stared down at the bare skin of his arms. He looked down his body and found he was clad in a simple white tunic and black leggings, the sort of raiment a peasant would wear out into the wilds. He felt lighter, freer as he twisted and turned, testing the feel of the clothes against his body. The paleness of his skin in the bright sun surprised him. He reached up and ran a hand over his head; he felt the shortly cropped, silky, white-blonde hair and smiled a little to himself.
"Revas," a voice called to him, shattering his preoccupation.
He looked around, turning his body until he saw her standing just behind him.
"Mythal," he whispered reverently. He fell to his knees before her, pressing his forehead against the grass out of respect.
She laughed, "stand, young one and let me look upon you."
He rose to his feet and watched as she glided towards him. She was tall, taller than him and beautiful beyond imagining. Her grayish white hair shone in the bright sun, he tried not to marvel at the way the thick locks flowed down from her scalp like liquid silver or the long, black eyelashes that brushed against her high cheekbones as she blinked. Her eyes, as green as the forest itself, were kind as she regarded him. She put a delicate finger underneath his chin and raised his face up to hers.
"Hmm," she murmured, staring deep into his golden eyes. He felt warm and loved underneath her careful gaze. "There is a strength in you, an enduring spirit."
"Ma serannas, ha Mythal."
"There is a hard path ahead, da'len. Are you ready to follow it?"
"I am."
"Good, the elvhen will need your strength in the time to come. I shall look forward to meeting you."
Revas blinked, "Hahren?"
She smiled warmly, again and whispered, "wake up."
Revas' eyes flew open and he looked around the room wildly. Adahl and Nehn had their eyes closed, their bodies leaning against each other. Sulahnni, however, was watching him intently. She opened her mouth to speak, but a crackle in the room interrupted. The barrier disappeared and the High Priestess strode inside. She smiled gently at Sulahnni before rousing Adahl and Nehn from their apparent slumber. Revas had half the notion to ask the High Priestess about his vision of Mythal, but thought the better of it. He replayed the words in his head over and over again as they were led from the small chamber and up into the temple proper. He didn't look around with the same awe he had previously, as they retraced the route that Paiwen had taken them on only the day before. Even through the heavy stone doors, he could hear the crowd gathered in the courtyard. The High Priestess went out first, with the four of them trailing a respectful distance behind her. He tried not to look over at the dais set up with the tools to create the vallaslin, yet found himself staring anyway and he tried to listen to the High Priestess as she prayed for the four of them and asked Mythal to protect them as they journeyed into maturity but, found his mind drifting back to his vision of Mythal. Once the Priestess finished, she gestured for Adahl to step forward. His friend shot Revas one last smile before he swallowed and sat down on the dais. He bravely held his hand towards the High Priestess while another priestess stepped forward to assist. The High Priestess took Adahl's hand in hers, raised a shining silver blade, and pressed it against his flesh. The assistant held a gleaming copper bowl underneath his arm as the High Priestess cut him. Blood dripped down into the bowl until a soft green glow emanated from the Priestess's hand, healing the cut. He murmured a soft word to the Assistant, who bent down to a large chest and selected a bottle of green pigment. The ornate bottle of powder was opened and carefully tipped into the copper bowl. The Assistant swirled the ingredients together until they were combined. Nodding gently the Priestess picked up the ha'mi hima, the long rod carved from the sacred tree deep within Mythal's sanctum tipped with small blades, and dipped it into the blood ink mixture. She bent over Adahl and thrust the blade gently, but firmly, underneath his skin. The entire courtyard was silent as she worked and Revas found himself biting his lip and worrying that Adahl would make a sound. The young elvhen undergoing the ritual had to do so in complete silence. Even the smallest whimper or utterance could be construed by the Priestess as a weakness, a sign that the youth was not yet fearless enough to pass into the age of maturity. Adahl had chosen the typical vallaslin for Sentinels, the winding branches of Mythal that covered from the bridge of the nose to the forehead in complex, twining veins. It took time, but eventually the Priestess stopped thrusting the small instrument and smiled and Adahl. She wiped away the ink and blood that had spilled across his skin and let him stand. There were cheers from the gathered audience, and Revas found himself smiling brightly at his friend.
Next, Nehn was summoned. The blood and ink process was repeated, with her having selected a red pigment. She had chosen the simplest of designs, two small branches that would stretch from underneath her eyes to just where her ears began. The Priestess thrust the blade forward and Revas could hear the sudden shift in the woman's breath. His eyes widened a little and he could feel the energy from the spectators alter. With that small moment, all knew that Nehn would not make it through the ceremony and it was simply a question of how long she'd hold out. When the first branch was nearly complete, Nehn let out a soft whimper as a tear fell from one of her eyes. The High Priestess stilled immediately and set down the implement. Nehn sobbed softly, a flush growing across the areas that weren't stained with blood and red pigment. Myriel walked up the dais and wrapped an arm around Nehn's shoulders to lead her away. The crowd was silent, solemn as Nehn disappeared back into the temple. She would have to wait longer with the other novices and endure the humiliation of wearing a half-finished vallaslin. There was always the chance as well that the pigment wouldn't mix to the same color and she'd be left with the permanent reminder of her shame.
"Revas," the High Priestess called.
He swallowed and willed his shaking hands to still as he took his seat on the dais. He had chosen a more complex design, wanting to prove himself not only to Mythal but also to himself. His vallaslin would combine the designs that Nehn and Adahl had chosen and like Adahl, he chose green pigment. He felt the knife cut into his flesh, but pushed his mind away from his body. Faintly he could hear the soft clattering of the blood ink being mixed, the sound of the needles colliding with the side of the bowl and the sudden hush that fell over the crowd. As the first of the needles punctured the flesh of the bridge of his nose, he felt nothing. The sensation of the needles pricking his skin, pushing the blood and ink underneath his skin felt more like light scratches from an animal to his dazed mind. He endured as the blood trickled down his skin and blinked only when it was about to flow into his eyes. A soft cloth wiped the blood away; he had to stop himself for thoughtlessly murmuring a 'thank you'. Though it wouldn't have been a cry of pain, he was certain it would have stopped the ritual all the same. He was unaware of time as he felt the scratches stretching up his forehead to underneath his eyes. It wasn't until the High Priestess placed her hand on his shoulder that he was aware she had finished. He stood, his legs surprisingly steady, and stood next to Adahl. His friend grinned at him, and Revas felt the expression reflecting on to his face as his muscles moved without his consent.
Sulahnni stepped forward without waiting for her name to be called. She thrust her arm out bravely and made no pigment choice as the High Priestess cut her arm. The assistant priestess reached for fullest and most ornate bottle in the chest. The black ink, her vallaslin already chosen and the High Priestess bringing her to the chamber the previous day, the pieces fell into place in his mind: Sulahnni was in training to become the next High Priestess. The bottle of black pigment was tipped delicately into the bowl and a soft murmur fell over the crowd. The energy coming off of them felt like lightning over his healing skin. The onyx-headed woman remained completely still, Revas wasn't even sure if she breathed, as the Priestess thrust the blade into her skin over and over again, making the intricate designs that were mirrored upon her own flesh. It took shape slowly and Revas noticed that the part saved for last was the single line that bisected her bottom lip, the most painful part he assumed. The Priestess breathed deeply and thrust the blade forward. Still, Sulahnni remained motionless. The crowd cheered again as the Priestess set down the instrument and squeezed her apprentice's shoulder. Once they cleaned her up, she took her place next to Revas. His mind was still reeling and from the bewildered expression on her face, Revas guessed that Sulahnni was as well. He still wasn't sure how he had managed to get his leaden legs to move as they were ushered inside the temple to break their fast. In fact, it wasn't until an hour or so later when he and Adahl were given their Sentinel armor and weapons that he began to come back into himself. Exhaustion hugged him, filling his head with the fuzzy sensation of wool against the insides of his mind. The excitement, adrenaline of the day had finally worn off and left his body drifting aimlessly. They were given their quarters, the two of them sharing the space and were allowed the rest of the day to recover before they were to be given their first duties. Revas settled down onto his bed, barely noticing the room and fell asleep.
End AN:
Warning, long notes ahead:
This story takes place before the fall of Arlathan and there's really not a whole lot of information on that time period, obviously as that's the whole Dalish vs. City elves thing. I've done research leading up to and during writing this. I think I've read the wiki section of elves like 80 times and the other various sources of canonical and fanonical information out there. So, I'm going to be incorporating canonical information in with my own personal head-canons and some artistic liberties here and there. I figure no matter what I write, Bioware will probably release a DLC that will completely rip everything I've envisioned to shreds so I should really just focus on telling this story to the best of my (limited) ability.
In regards to the elven language, I'm not a linguist myself. So what I do will most likely be WRONG. I'll also be taking some liberties with the language.
I figure, a lot of the information available is through what I lovingly call 'The Dalish Filter'. DAI proved, thanks to Solas, that a lot of what the Dalish believe to be true is either exaggerated legends or complete falsehoods. So the language that is known is at a high risk of being faulty anyway - which perhaps canonically explains why Solas' subtitles aren't always translated - so I'm going to work it so that it fits into this story. I'll do the translations at the end of the notes for new words I'll be using throughout. They are speaking Elvhen/Elvish to each other, but I like throwing some words in for things that I can't see translating into English/Common, like the ha'mi hima.
The vallaslin ritual is a combination of the codex entry on the Dalish practice and ancient tattooing methods. In particular, this method is based on a ritual I got to see in Singapore. The artist has a stick with several needles stuck on the end. The artist stretches the skin with his fingers and shoves the instrument in under the skin and slightly upward. He doesn't do this from a down angle, either; it's more of a sideways thing. Very interesting, different from the Maori or Hawaiian styles of tapping bamboo rods straight down into the skin. I figure mixing the blood (as it is called blood writing) with the bearer's choice of pigment accounts for the colors in the game. Revas's 'spacing out' was based on my own experiences with getting tattoos.
Sorry, long notes. I'll try to keep them to a minimum in the future, but I figured best to explain some things right off the bat. Plus I get super nerdy about these games.
Translations:
From the summary:
Mythal'shiral vira - Mythal, the goddess. Shiral Journey, vira to go. Little fudged together, but I like it.
Elu'vhenan - Elu has been suggested as 'secret'. vhenan heart, a lover.
From the Fic:
Revas - Freedom
Sulahn+ni - Sing or perhaps song.
Len'am - len, child. Am, protector (comes from the idea that verbs end in 'a' and the noun version drops the 'a' so ama, protect and am protector) So it literally means Child Protector which is a way of saying that these are Junior Sentinels, not yet having reached maturation.
Adahl - Tree
Elvhen - the people, in the temple of mythal quest, Abelas makes the distinction clearly between a disdainful 'elven' and a normal-sounding elvhen towards Solas.
Da'vhen - da, small. Vhen, people. Children
Ma'len - ma, my. Len, child. My child.
Nehn - Joy
Ha Mythal - from the idea that ha in hahren means old. So Elder Mythal, meant respectfully towards an elder and more supreme being.
Ha'mi hima - ha, old. Mi, blade. Hima, to become. So literally become old blade. Meaning, the tool used for the young to become adults, as the vallaslin is the rite of passage into adulthood.
Allrighty! Thank you so much for reading this first chapter! I promise the notes won't be so extensive next time. :)