The Gift | 4

Serenity ascended the steps into the bungalow she shared with her mother, winded from running about the alienage. "Mamae! Look what I found!" She held her hands up, cupped to hide something between them.

Kyna took one look at Serenity, barefoot and covered in mud up to her knees, and shot up from her seat. "Don't track all that mud in here, da'len!"

Serenity looked down at her feet and took a step back toward the door. She was only seven years old, skinny and bright faced, her hair in tiny tangled braids. "Mamae, look at this beetle. It's so colorful!"

Kyna scrunched up her face and walked over to turn Serenity around and guide her back out the door, ready to swat the thing out of the air when Serenity opened her hands to show her. "Don't touch the beetles, da'len. And stay out of the mud."

Serenity shrieked when the beetle flew up toward her face with a loud buzz before flying away. She laughed and strained against her mother's hands on her shoulders to twist around and look into the house. "What are those things on the table, mamae?"

"Inks and needles," her mother said. "I'll explain after supper."

Apparently satisfied, Serenity lost interest in the small jars and ran back outside to play with the other children, their voices ringing in the distance. Kyna would have to wait for the muddy footprints at the door to dry before sweeping them away. She was more intent on returning to the pigments, to mix and dilute them into a subtle, faded hue.

Hahren Valendrian would disapprove of what she intended, but she obtained the paints in secret. Nobody in the alienage had facial tattoos. Not unless they had come from the Dalish. In Denerim, the only elf to come from the Dalish had been her husband, Ufen. He hadn't left his tribe by choice, of course. No Dalish ever did, not to join an alienage, at least.

Ufen was a fine carpenter, having learned his craft from his father. Ordinarily, he stayed with his clan's settlement or travelled to the trade city accompanied by other clansmen. However, one afternoon, he'd met a travelling merchant, who was promptly chased off the hunters. He made the bold decision to follow the man away from the aravels, intrigued by an item in his possession. He was set upon by bandits, captured, and taken to Highever.

Ufen was sold to a merchant from Denerim. He lived amongst the elves in the alienage for a time, determined to escape and return to his people. He hated the slum and the community inside it, ignorant to their culture and content to live in squalor and filth with pride. The merchant worked him hard, selling his constructs in the market district for high prices.

Thinking of Ufen, Kyna wept, pushing the inks aside. He had died one year before after contracting an infection from a dull blade he'd accidentally cut himself with while he was working. She hated the shemlen for what they did to him. Even though she never would have met him otherwise, she thought of him as a bird whose wings had been clipped. He did not fit in with the rats in the alienage, though the hahren tried to welcome him.

When she had first met him, he was quiet. She stood under the overhang of one of the houses and watched him carve in the shade.

"I've seen you make many of these pendants," she said. "And you put that symbol into everything. What does it mean?" She understood the Dalish wore the blood writing on their faces to honor their gods and figured the symbol must relate to his, the elven god of craft, June. She had overheard him explain it to the hahren.

"It means shit," Ufen said, looking up at her.

"I don't understand," she said quietly. Surely he didn't mean that literally.

He smirked, "We do not know how to read or write in our native tongue any longer. The keeper knows more than the rest of us do. But if there is one word I am going to learn in a language, it's shit. Or fuck. But nobody knows that one. If the shemlen want to wear my work, they will wear shit."

She fell irrevocably in love with him in that moment. And it was not long before Ufen's desire to escape came second to his desire for her. Their marriage was not arranged. Despite the hahren's reservations, he agreed to obtain the license for them.

Kyna wiped her eyes and stood up to answer a knock at the door, surprised to see the hahren. "Valendrian?"

"We need to talk," he said, "about Serenity."

"What has she done?" Kyna asked, her voice stiff. She had first noticed her daughter's magic when she was just four years old. She had an affinity for manipulating the cold, or perhaps it was manipulating heat but in an unusual way. She couldn't begin to understand it.

She had caught Serenity creating hoarfrost on a window pane. She traced circular designs and hearts into it like one would if they breathed against the glass. It didn't settle in right away that it was magic. She'd thought it must have been there already. She thought she had to have been mistaken. But after that, she would notice Serenity acting suspicious. She would watch her daughter trot away innocently, then find the suspect window covered in icy shapes or covered in ice with the shapes carved into it.

She was frightened, but she knew her da'len was harmless. She forbade her from doing it again, for fear that she would be taken away. Serenity had cried, had felt like she did something wrong. It pained Kyna to let her believe her gift was wrong.

Valendrian sighed and walked inside, closing the door behind him. "Kyna, please, sit down."

"No, tell me," she said, hands shaking. She knew. She already knew what he was going to say, and it made her chest tighten.

"I overheard a guard talking," he said. "They're going to report her to the Chantry."

"They haven't yet?" Kyna asked, gripping the wall to keep herself steady. There was still a chance to stop them.

"They are likely on their way to do so now," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder to steady her. "You need to prepare yourself."

Kyna crumpled to the floor, her heart breaking. She could hardly breathe, but a desperate cry escaped her. She couldn't speak, her voice hitched as she wailed.

Valendrian stepped back and held the door. He knew they would be back by morning. "I will find her and bring her home. Calm yourself, Kyna. You do not want to scare her."

Serenity was confused when Valendrian took her by the hand and led her back home. He helped her wipe her feet clean before taking her inside. Her mother was hunched over the table, head resting in her arms, but she was quiet. "Mamae?"

Kyna stood up and took her into her arms. "We have to hurry, da'len."

Valendrian pet Serenity's hair and nodded. "I will bring your supper," he offered. Kyna needed as much time with her daughter as she could get. Cooking would only take away from it.

After Valendrian left, Kyna set Serenity on the chair. "Da'len, do you know what these paints are for?"

Serenity looked over to the jars and shook her head.

"They are for tattoos," she said. "Do you remember Ufen's?"

Serenity nodded slowly. Her father had told her the story of June, though she hardly remembered it or any of the others. She usually fell asleep during his storytelling. "They were for his god."

"Yes," she said. "I don't believe in the same gods he does. But he was different from the rest of us. He was like a bird that fell from his nest and was scooped up by the humans. Then he was put in a cage with rats."

Serenity nodded, "Are you going to paint my face, mamae?"

"If you want me to," she said, her voice wavering. "You are young to be given such a choice. Few other elves have tattoos unless they come from the dalish clans. Yours would be to honor your father, not a god."

"Will it hurt?"

"Very badly," she said. "But perhaps you can numb the pain with ice."

Serenity looked thoughtful and imagined trying to ice her own face using just her hands. She had not had much practice since her mother forbade her from doing it. "Do we have any?"

Kyna smiled, wiping away her tears, and nodded. "We'll begin after dinner."

It took the entire night for Kyna to finish, stopping periodically to numb Serenity's skin and wipe away the tears that dampened her cheeks from the pain. She hoped the ink would be subtle when it healed. Valendrian would, no doubt, admonish her for the cruelty of the act, marring her child's face permanently with ink. But she couldn't help feeling it was right.

The next morning, Serenity woke up, her skin stinging and itching from the forming scabs. She heard voices downstairs, her mother's raised, pleading with somebody to leave. Scared, Serenity hid beneath her bed as heavy armored footsteps ascended the stairs. There was no knock before it opened.

"Where is she?" a man's voice asked. "Do you think her mother hid her?"

"No," another voice answered, the one in front. She watched his loud rattling boots move cover to the bed, and then she saw his hands and a helmet hiding his face as he looked at her under the bed. "Come out, child."

Serenity felt the tears well up in her eyes as she did what he commanded, crawling out to stand before him. "Mamae?"

"Don't be scared," he said. "You're safe with us. No harm will come to you."

"Your mother is waiting downstairs to see you," the other man, dressed in the city guard's uniform, said and walked down ahead of them.

Serenity ran into her mother's arms and winced when her mother kissed both her cheeks. "Where am I going? Are you coming with me?"

"I can't," Kyna cried, petting her hair. "I love you, da'len. Be good. I will see you again someday. Ar dir'vhen'an."

When it was time to leave, Serenity took the templar's gloved hand and didn't let go until they reached the Circle tower.

Hahren = elder
Mamae = mother
Da'len = little one

Ar dir'vhen'an = I promise