Astrariums of Thedas
By KSCrusaders (Sable Rhapsody on BSN)
Bellitanus: The Lost Alamarri
The stars were beautiful from Skyhold, larger and brighter as though the mountains themselves lifted the keep toward the sky. But Clariel couldn't see them from her designated quarters. She sat at the very foot of the lavish Orlesian bed, wondering how many others were still huddled in tents out in the courtyard. A roaring fire crackled nearby, almost too warm for comfort, and the thick layers of stone and wood all around her suddenly felt like a cage.
Her camping bedroll sat in a corner of the room, very out of place next to the fine mahogany furniture. She picked it up and crept down the stairs, picking her way through the fallen timbers and construction equipment littering the great hall. Moonlight peeked through the holes in the ceiling, sending her shadow jumping along the rubble.
"What are you doing, Inquisitor?"
She nearly jumped out of her skin. The door to the rotunda swung open, framing Solas in dim torchlight. Clariel took a deep breath, heart still pounding against her ribs. "Solas. Don't do that."
He raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at the bedroll under her arm. Then he smiled. "Wait a moment." He was back in seconds, striding out into the hall with his own bedroll slung over his back. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked gently.
"No. It's too warm in my room."
It was a poor excuse, but she didn't have to say anything else. Solas immediately understood. In silence, the two of them walked back into the rotunda, then out to the fortress's ramparts. Out here the air was clear and cold. Clariel let out a small sigh of relief. The courtyard below still occasionally stirred with activity, but for now, she didn't have to be part of it.
She set up her bedroll next to the wall; Solas whispered something, and a ball of fire appeared next to her bedroll for warmth. The flame took the shape of a flower, its petals spreading and closing as it flickered. "Show-off," she said with a wink.
He didn't even look abashed. "It would be inconvenient for the Inquisitor to catch cold from such a trivial habit of sleeping outdoors." He stretched out his own bedroll next to her, seemingly oblivious to the cold air on his bare scalp.
"Then maybe you should help her get to sleep, hahren."
Solas sighed, but the corners of his eyes crinkled in a tiny half-smile. "You are greedy, lethallan. Only one story." His hand traced out the constellation of the Maiden far above them. "A love story, of a sort."
Clariel blinked at him. She had a sneaking suspicion that any love story Solas might tell would be the tragic sort, or bittersweet at best. He caught her dubious expression and his smile broadened. "Don't worry. I know better than to tell you disturbing things at night." He rubbed his hands together, and the flame dancing between their bedrolls grew dimmer.
"Before this place was named Skyhold, it was Tarasyl'an Te'las to our people, the place where the sky was held back. There has always been magic on this soil. It has changed hands many times, through terrible sieges, treachery, or merely the passing from parent to child. A few nights ago, I dreamed of the first human to seek refuge on this mountaintop. A lone Alamarri woman, fleeing the ravages of the First Blight.
"Whatever you think you know of the First Blight, it wasn't like that. It was much, much worse. Darkspawn do not only taint the land; they empty the Fade as well. Without dreamers, there are no dreams. Much of the First Blight is only recorded in silence, nothingness where the dreams of a village or city or entire people once were. All that remain are fragments of nightmare: ash and fire, dying breaths, thousands of lives going up in smoke."
"Not disturbing?" said Clariel, raising her eyebrows at him.
"I am merely setting the stage. Be patient, lethallan." Solas waited until she'd settled herself in her bedroll to continue, his long fingers again following the outline of the Maiden in the sky.
"The spirits do not remember the name of the Alamarri woman who took refuge here. But she was strong and fierce, a mage of great skill. She had survived the darkspawn when her village was swallowed up by the Blight. She was resourceful enough to survive in the mountains, even in bitter winter. And when she stumbled upon the ruins of Tarasyl'an Telas, she felt its ancient magic and knew that she was saved.
"By day, she ventured into the mountains to gather and hunt. By night, she raised the crumbling walls of Tarasyl'an Telas with her magic and labor, renewed wards that had been abandoned for hundreds of years. She began to dream of a warm, friendly presence that showed her visions - elven warriors making their last stand, dwarven exiles chanting a song of home, mages holding back a tide of demons when the Veil grew thin."
"A spirit?" Clariel asked. "Does Skyhold have many spirits?"
"Skyhold is ancient, and ancient places are home to spirits beyond counting," said Solas. "It was Valor who came to her, drawn by the fierce fire that burned in her heart, and the brightness of her spirit. Imagine, if you will, what it must have been like from Valor's perspective: the long silence of the abandoned ruin shattered by a powerful presence on the other side of the Veil."
He hesitated, choosing his next words slowly and carefully. "I would not say that it loved her; love is a tenuous, complicated thing beyond the comprehension of most spirits. But Valor was fascinated by her, yearned for her, and she in turn had a companion at last after her solitary flight. She remained here for almost the entire winter, rebuilding the ruin and strengthening its magical defenses, sharing tales and memories with Valor each time she dreamed. Perhaps she meant to find more of her scattered people, lead them to a place where they could rest and regroup."
"Like you did for the Inquisition."
Solas shook his head. "For you, Clariel. Tarasy'lan Telas has never been held for long by the unworthy or weak-willed. It demands someone like you to harness its full potential." Magical firelight danced in his sharp blue eyes.
"But I'm not - " She shook her head, struggling to find the right words. "I'm not even a mage like that Alamarri woman. I was just unlucky enough to wind up with this." And she lifted her left hand, the one that bore the Anchor.
"You make the difference. Not magic, not the Anchor." He said it so simply, like it wasn't opinion but rather unshakable fact. A small smile touched his eyes, softening their intensity. "You will understand soon enough."
She certainly didn't understand at that moment, and it took her a second to realize he'd resumed his story.
"Eventually, the Blight came to the Frostback Mountains. It started as a trickle, small scouting bands of no more than ten. Tarasyl'an Telas was not hard to miss, but the ancient magic and the presence of Valor bolstered the Alamarri mage, and she easily fended them off. Then the darkspawn began to come by the dozens. They too crashed against the fortress like waves on rock. But a week after she first sighted the darkspawn, the mountainside turned black with them as they poured out of the abandoned Deep Roads, hundreds and thousands strong.
"She knew she would die, and so did Valor. So the spirit stepped across the Veil for the first time in its existence, joining its strength with hers for one final fight."
Clariel blinked. "It possessed her?"
Solas shook his head. "Spirits are capable of forming more symbiotic relationships with mortal hosts, though they run the risk of becoming corrupted and losing their purpose. But Valor was only with her a short time. Together they stood atop the rebuilt walls, and that night, her magic was almost unstoppable. Rock split at her command, bringing the mountains themselves down upon her foes. Fire and lightning crashed from the heavens. And Valor knew what it was to be mortal. It felt the weight of flesh, the warmth of her heartbeat, and the cold inevitability of death.
"It took seven darkspawn arrows to bring her down. As her life ebbed away, Valor begged her not to die; it had been so long since the spirit knew a mortal worthy of its gifts. The Alamarri smiled through bloody lips, looking up at the stars as she said, 'Do not grieve for me, dear friend. The Lady of the Skies will take me home.'
"As it happens, the Lady of the Skies did no such thing. The land was so blighted that no bird or beast came this way for decades, and no one remembers the Alamarri woman who decimated the darkspawn horde before succumbing to death. No one but Valor, who nurtures the memory of her to this day, and whispers her tale to those who have the ears to hear it."
Clariel was silent, mulling over everything Solas had ever told her about spirits and the Fade. "Did Valor tell you this story?" she finally asked.
Solas smiled. "Yes. If you like, I can take you to the area of the Fade where it dwells. You can talk to Valor yourself."
"I'd like that. It sounds fascinating." She hesitated for a moment on the next question before plunging ahead and asking it anyway. "Do you think she loved Valor?"
"I...I don't know."
He meant yes. She could read it in his hesitation, the way he didn't quite meet her eyes when he spoke. A wave of his fingers extinguished the mote of flame; the conversation was effectively over. Clariel sighed but decided not to press the point. She turned onto her back, looking up at the bright blue stars of the Maiden's constellation until her eyes finally drifted closed.
A/N: This tale was very loosely inspired by the two episodes in Legend of Korra about Avatar Wan and Raava the Light Spirit.
