It had been an unhappy awakening.

Tamlen did not save Lyna, a human Grey Warden did. She supposed she should be at awe at encountering such an esteemed warrior but she could not even remember him. And certainly not while her partner was missing. She suffered from an unknown illness and had spent several days asleep in Keeper Marethari's aravel; an honor reserved for the Keeper and her First but a bane for the greviously ill, essentially a mark of death. It was a miracle she survived and was well, Marethari declared. Then, she was tasked along with Merrill to return to the ruins and find Tamlen.

Whatever was left of him.

Lyna stomped around camp to find the First, ignoring calls of relief, well-wishing, and sympathy. She likewise did not pay heed to the incessant burning within her veins. The young hunter had lied to Marethari, she knew and felt she was not well enough to be standing, let alone lead a party into the ghoul-infested ruins. But it did not matter, she must save Tamlen. "Every one of the People is precious," a thought tempered upon every Dalish since childhood. So great was her duty that she pushed back Hahren Paivel's words: "You should have been more careful! You belong to more than yourself, you belong to your People." Lyna could not afford to consider those for the moment, Tamlen would have done the same if their roles were reversed.

Curse his curiosity. And curse her own, even more.

"Lyna!"

She swallowed the bile building in her throat and spun to see Fenarel. Her face tightened impatiently as he jogged to her side.

"I heard you're going to those ruins to find Tamlen. Take me with you," Fenarel said, more of a statement than a pleading.

Lyna frowned, thoughtful. "I was told to bring only Merrill."

"I'm just as concerned as you are! Tamlen's my friend too!" Fenarel swept an arm before him and to his side, his green eyes gleaming with emotion. Lyna's heightened grimace made him regain his composure. "And the more of us, the better."

Lyna mulled over the offer. Discounting the chance of Fenarel falling ill, it made sense, his skill with the sword may come in handy should they encounter those horrid skeletons again. As long as no one touches the blighted mirror we should be fine, Lyna said to herself. "Alright, fine. You're going, but you'll do as I say." Fenarel made a slight nod as Lyna quickly skimmed the camp. "And have you seen Merrill? The sooner we leave, the better."

"Probably asleep," Fenarel said as he pointed towards the aravel Lyna shared with her adoptive mother, Ashalle. She gave him a questioning look. "You took her spot in the Keeper's aravel," he replied as his eyes softened. "She stayed with you until we were sure you'd pull through."

"Did she?" Lyna asked, more than a bit surprised since Merrill could not even stay by the bonfire whenever she joined. Then she remembered her dream, or at least she thought it was until now. She followed her friend's gaze as she tried to recall...

Water.

Merrill crying?

Darkness.

A butterfly on her forehead?

She winced, temples again ached with scant recollection and found her knees buckling. Fenarel took hold of her arms and gave Lyna a worried look. She deflected his concern with her biggest smile, taking considerable effort. "I'm good, I've simply yet to eat."

Fenarel stepped back but still had a hand on her elbow. "Are you sure? We could manage if you gave us directions."

"No! I need to be there!" Lyna cried and she was sure her desperation was as apparent to her companion as it was to herself. She inhaled sharply, willing everything in her to ignore the pain wracking her body. "I'll take us there myself," she said, more calmly, then nodded to the clan's crafter. "Go to Master Ilen for supplies, I'll have a quick meal with Merrill. Ma serannas, Fenarel," she said as she walked off, intent to avoid any more concern.

Lyna closed the squeaking boards of the aravel as quietly as she could and looked behind her. In the farthest corner of the room, Merrill lay on her bedroll, bundled in the dark fur of what looked like the bear she and Tamlen had caught a day ago. Or a week or more ago to be precise, considering how long she was out cold. Only Merrill's face was visible amidst the fur, looking like she was in the embrace of the huge animal. The genuine smile on Lyna's lips needed little effort.

The hunter tiptoed over the bedrolls and personal effects strewn around the small space; scrolls, books, salves, clothes, even a magical staff. She smirked; Merrill always managed to find order in her own disorganized neatness. Lyna crouched beside her friend's sleeping form, digging a small jar of nuts and dried fruit from her clothing pile. She chewed on a walnut as she debated how she should wake Merrill; seeing her friend in such a restful state made Lyna hesitate in waking her. Merrill was clearly tired and had lost weight; the First's cheeks were gaunt and had dark circle under the eyes. Lyna's gaze began tracing the vallaslin lines on the sleeping girl's face, her mind and purpose wandering as she did. The elegant curved lines around the cheeks and forehead were reminiscent of halla horns, highlighting the fine features of Merrill's face. A warm feeling settled in her chest and she traced a finger along her own blood writing, a veneration for Andruil, goddess of hunt. She chose so at Merrill's suggestion, during better times.

Better times she remembered vividly.

"This is it," Merrill said as she brandished the parchment, its surface still wet from ink. "A complete veneration for Andruil."

Lyna looked at the scrawled drawing of a vaguely elven figure with intricate lines on its face. A mischievous smile crossed her lips. "...am I this ugly?"

Merrill pouted and placed the parchment on the other girl's lap. She pointed at the lines on the figure's face. "Just look at the vallaslin, will you?"

Lyna giggled and leaned her head against Merrill's shoulder as she examined the figure. The First may be poor at drawing faces but her skill with blood writing was a work of art. She imagined how the complex lines would look on her face. She also imagined how long and painful it would take to apply those lines on her face. A trickle of cold sweat fell down her neck. "I don't know...those are a lot of lines..."

"Don't be such a baby," Merrill chided with a nudge of her elbow then pointed to the tender lines on her face. "I made it out fine on my first try, and you're so much braver than me."

Still, she looked worriedly at the First. "But what if I don't?" Lyna almost punched through the parchment. "These ones under the eye look painful!"

Merrill shook her head and giggled. "Oh, fine. Let me have that, you baby." The First took back the parchment with one hand and a swirl of compressed air gathered around the index finger of her other hand. Lyna watched with awe as Merrill's fingertip undid some of the lines on the figure's face. The magical handiwork left a less complex version of the earlier vallaslin, particularly removing the lines below the left eye that ended by the base of the ear and those that covered the left corner of the mouth. "There," Merrill handed the parchment back to her friend. "That's the least allowed for the goddess of hunt."

Lyna studied the new version carefully with her eyebrow raised, then looked curiously at Merrill. "Are you sure this will look good on me?"

The First gazed upon her friend intently. "Oh, I think anything will look good on you."

Lyna would have laughed it off but instead found herself blushing at the statement. "Uhm...thank you, I suppose?"

Merrill seemed to realize what she said and immediately looked at the parchment instead. Lyna imagined her friend was as flustered as she was, if the color of her ears were any indication. "I mean yes, yes, I'm sure it will look good on you, I think this veneration suits you perfectly," Merrill rambled, pointing at left corner of the mouth. "And with that removed, it won't cover that dimple of yours."

Lyna's hand reflexively touched her own face. "I have a dimple?" She smirked to ease out the crease, and true enough her index finger felt an indent. The younger girl gave Merrill an amused look. "By the gods, Merrill. You know me more than I do!"

Merrill's mouth hung open and she blushed down to her neck. She then bolted up from the log they were perched on, throwing Lyna off balance. "I just remembered!" Merrill announced, voice too shrill as she caught the other girl's shoulder, saving the latter from a fall. Lyna was bewildered at the ramble of sentences that came next. "Keeper asked me to prepare some things for the ceremony. Please come by nightfall. Dareth shiral," the First rattled, and scuttled off not in the direction of the Keeper's aravel.

Lyna noticed Merrill had woken and was looking at her.

"Mer-" she said, but bit her tongue when long fingers touched her cheek, trailing a line from its corner to the edge of her mouth. Lyna's skin tingled with the touch.

"Your skin is cold," Merrill mumbled with half-lidded eyes, her fingers staying on Lyna's face. "Are you real this time?"

"I-I am," the hunter stammered, unsure if her friend was awake or talked out of a dream. Doubt colored Merrill's drowsy expression, hence Lyna took the hand on her face and pressed it close. The First frowned, obviously perplexed. "See," Lyna had to smile at their predicament, the tension between them seemed forgotten. "I'm not a dream." She giggled at Merrill's wide-eyed realization.

Merrill bolted up from the bedroll, tearing her hand away from the hunter. "L-Lyna! I mean Mahariel!" Lyna winced at the formal address as the other girl looked away from her, staring at the dark fur she was bundled in. The hunter did not know what to make of Merrill's flushed cheeks. Anger, probably. She sighed inwardly.

Silence lingered until Merrill turned to Lyna, her face completely unreadable. "You're finally awake. Are you well?" she asked, voice low and neutral.

Lyna sat upright at the address, unable to deflect her friend's formality. Her body pulsed with pain as she did, but she maintained a straight face. "Yes, I've been told you're to thank for my care." She fished the pouch of blackberries from her pack and offered it to Merrill. "Here, for you."

Merill looked at the pouch then to Lyna and shook her head. "Thank the Keeper and the Creators instead. I merely kept watch."

"I got them for you," Lyna hid the building disappointment with a smile. "I'd given them sooner if we didn't..."

"Oh," Merrill seemed pensive for a moment then took the pouch from the hunter. She undid the fasten and peeked at the contents. The briefest of smiles appeared on Merrill's face before she regarded Lyna. "It is thoughtful of you. Ma serannas." Merrill offered some to Lyna, which she accepted, before popping a berry into her own mouth.

Lyna felt her heart soaring within her chest, along with the fluttering in her stomach. It was an unfamiliar feeling to the young hunter, but not unwelcome. It made her feel...giddy, like she did after a successful hunt. She discreetly looked at the other girl, who was obviously enjoying the fruit from the way she licked her lips clean of juice. She ignored the sudden heat in the room and chose to relish the moment. She and Merrill were best of friends again, however fleeting, and she realized how much she missed the First. Lyna was pondering if she should ask why Merrill was avoiding her, or everyone, for that matter.

"Mahariel?"

Neutral formality brought Lyna back to reality. The steady ache of her body reared itself again as she looked tiredly at the First. "Yes, Merrill?"

"Do you remember anything odd?"

The berry suddenly tasted like dirt in Lyna's mouth. She sighed. "I could scarcely remember anything after I fell in the ruins," Lyna looked at Merrill with pleading. "But if you're asking how I fell ill...I'd appreciate if you asked the Keeper instead. I don't think I want to recall the mishap."

The First frowned, then shook her head. "I didn't mean..." Merrill mumbled with hinting panic, making Lyna curious. The hunter's lips then formed a perfect 'o' shape, recalling her vague image of Merrill crying. Before she could say anything, however, the First had already stood up from her seat. "Nevermind," Merrill coolly said and looked down at the jar Lyna was holding. "You must be famished, I'll speak with the Keeper and make preparations while you eat." She stepped past Lyna. "See me by the Keeper's aravel once you're done."

"W-wait! Merrill I'm sorry I..."

The boards squeaked close behind the clan's First.

"...made you cry."

Bonus content! Because I felt bad for scratching it out..

The Arlathvhen had just concluded and Lyna looked at the adults with avid curiosity. As a child she was not allowed to mix with the adults, but she was at least allowed to mingle with the other children. New faces were among them, both young and old, but some of their own were missing. The Keeper had explained the exchange between clans to the children, saying that it was good for their People. Still, it was a lonely thought for Lyna. As much as they were raised to treat every Dalish as family, regardless of their clan, but the prospect of having to leave the Sabrae for another scared her. She was quietly thankful she was not among those traded.

That said, with great sympathy she looked at the trembling girl behind the Keeper. Every child was called to the bonfire to be introduced to their new First. The girl was just about her age, a bit shorter than her with dark hair and mournful green eyes, reminding Lyna of a skittish kitten. The young girl found her odd, she had imagined the First was at least older and more fierce, like Velanna. She frowned at the memory; the adults had to separate them when the other First called her a seth'lin, thin-blooded, and got tangled in a fistfight.

"I hope she spits fire," Tamlen whispered beside her, then turned to Fenarel. "I bet she spits fire like that len'alas."

"Shu'p, Tamlen." The girl nosed towards their new clanmate. "Look at her, she's probably the healing sort."

The boy snorted. "You're just jealous you don't have the gift. Your father did, didn't he?"

"I don't need magic when I have these," she sneered as she raised her knuckles before Tamlen's face.

Fenarel shushed them both."Keeper's about to speak." The blond pair took heed and turned their attentions on Marethari and her charge.

The Keeper stepped aside, gently nudging the small girl to the forefront but the young First kept clutching at the hem of her tunic. Marethari gave the child a reassuring smile, then addressed her young crowd. "This is Merrill, she is joining us from the Alerion clan." The Keeper gently stroked the girl's dark hair. "She is my First and as you all know, she will be your Keeper someday. I hope you will all do your best to make her feel welcome." She turned back her young charge. "Would you like to say something, da'len?"

Merrill shook her head, violently, cheeks flushed dark red. Lyna stared with amazement, she never thought anyone could blush that hard.

Marethari sighed then met Lyna's eyes. "Da'len, come." The girl was stunned for a moment, hoping she was not in trouble. The Keeper was particularly stern when she learned of the earlier scuffle. Her eyes searched Marethari for any sign of disapproval, but was only met with a kind gaze. Deciding it was safe, she shuffled from her seat to the Keeper. Marethari gestured to Lyna as she kept her eyes on the other girl. "Merrill, this is Lyna."

"Aneth ara," Lyna piped, grinning widely at the smaller girl.

Marethari smiled with approval. "She will show you around camp, won't you, da'len?"

The young girl nodded eagerly. "Of course, Keeper!" she bubbled, taking it as a chance to redeem herself after punching the other First.

Meanwhile, Merrill stared mutely at Lyna, mouth slightly agape. Finally, she tugged on the hem of Marethari's tunic but kept her gaze upon the other girl. "Her eyes are blue," Merrill said, as if the fact was unknown to the Keeper.

Lyna looked away and covered her narrowed blue eyes with her hands. Most, if not every elvhen, had green eyes. The Keeper had assured her her eyes were rare, but not unprecedented, and highly coveted as a mark of pure blood. She did not feel like it though, given how much teasing the got out of it. The girl took the chance of the arlathven to find someone similar to no avail and met Velanna instead. The older girl's hurtful words echoed in Lyna's mind and she felt her cheeks burn with anger. The brat of a First had accosted her for having blue eyes, and apparently Merrill was of the same mind. Too bad she cannot punch this First.

Before Marethari say anything, the young First whispered her true intentions with breathless awe.

"They're beautiful..."

Lyna's face burned harder, but for a different reason.