Author's note
Once again, this is set within the same universe as my main story.
This chapter contains various head-canons I have had about my character and the Sabrae clan in general. e.g. Merrill and Lyla being sisters.
If you have read the latest chapter of FTDTD you will know that I commissioned an artist to draw my Mahariel and I'm delighted to say its complete. The link is on my profile page.
Enjoy
The Hanged Man
"Kitten?" Isabella had sobered up slightly by now. She was sitting opposite the elf and resting her head on her hands as she spoke, slurring ever so slightly. "Your tattoos are gorgeous, have I ever told you that?"
Merrill flushed wildly, red rising to the tips of her ears as she looked towards the floor. "No… No, you haven't, Bella, mas serannas. I designed them myself." She shyly smiled up at the pirate despite her embarrassment.
"Oh look at that blush!" Isabella squealed, "I haven't seen you that red since I asked about you and Hawke. Your tattoos though, do all elves design their own? I remember seeing the Warden's tattoos as well and they were very different to yours, still lovely though."
"Mahariel? I forgot you met her but no, she didn't design her vallaslin, I did." Another shy smile broke across the elf's lips as she spoke.
"Oh you have to tell me this story!"
The Brecillian Forest
"Mer!" Lyla burst into the aravel canopy in a panic. The aravel itself was a small caravan just big enough to hold the family's chest of clothing and weapons. However, once it had stopped moving it could be expanded outward with some small amounts of framework. The sails of the caravan would fold and turn until they more resembled a massive tent than a sail and it made a very good shelter. Lyla lived with her adopted family and they had been given a larger aravel because of it, meaning they had plenty of room to sleep once it had been assembled. She was extremely close to her family, her sister Merrill more so than she was to her mother - Ashalle - but that was mainly due to their closeness in age, Merrill being four years her junior. "Merrill! Where are you?" The young elf began tearing open chests and searching for her younger sister, throwing clothes and other possessions all over the floor in a desperate attempt to find her.
"I'm here, lethallan, what do you…" Merrill walked into the covering, pushing past the small entrance fold, and gasped. There was not a lot of floor space between the three bedrolls and now the land was covered in pieces of clothing and more. "Mythal, Ashalle is going to kill you."
"That doesn't matter right now! The keeper believes I am ready for my blood writing!" Lyla rushed over to her sister, grasped her in a frantic hug, and squeaked in happiness.
"You're so young, Lyla, only fourteen!" Merrill struggled to breathe from how tight she was being held but just about managed to speak.
"I know. That's why I need you! Marethari said I was the youngest elvhen she has ever seen take the rite but that I was ready. Can you help me design my vallaslin, lethallan?" Lyla was practically begging now, she had released her sister and grasped her hands, looking up with big green eyes silently screaming for help.
"Come on then." Merrill took her sisters hand and led her away from the aravel, smiling at Ashalle who was walking inside.
"What is this! LYLA MAHARIEL, GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW!" A scream erupted from inside the canopy and Lyla grabbed her sister's hand, pulling her along as she giggled wildly.
The Hanged Man
"Naughty Daisy!" Varric laughed as he listened, he had arrived shortly after Merrill had begun her story, bringing Marian Hawke with him. Hawke sat next to the elf, her arm around her Dalish lover, and laughed along.
"Varric, I could tell you things about Merrill that would surprise you indeed." Merrill choked as Hawke spoke, blushing wildly once again. She slapped the arm of her lover before relaxing once more into the embrace.
"Ma Vhenan!" Merrill giggled, "I was in the middle of a story before you rudely interrupted. Where was I?"
The Brecillian Forest
"I can't believe Marethari is letting you get your blood writing already, Lyla." Merrill shouted up to her sister. They were climbing one of the many trees around the camp, an elaborate attempt to hide from their adopted mother but an attempt nonetheless.
"You should have seen the size of the bear I was hunting." Lyla smirked down the branches towards the mage, "It could have swallowed me whole, I swear. Marethari said that if I was brave enough to fight such a monster I was brave enough to finally get my writing." She jumped up and grabbed at a higher branch, swinging herself up with a grunt before turning around to help her sister.
"Ma serannas. So because you stupidly fought a bear you're ready to be an adult?" Merrill gasped as she climbed. They finally reached a branch high enough to avoid their mothers wroth but also big enough for them both to sit comfortably. "It doesn't make sense, Lyla."
"Well it may have also been the fact that I have been harassing her with the idea for about a year, or it could be that I've been helping Hahren Paivel. I've also been fletching arrows for Hahren Ilen. Oh, and I saved Tamlen's life. That's important too." Lyla smirked once again at her sister whose mouth gaped open. Merrill attempted to close it but continually failed before giving up and just staring at her sister.
"You did what?" She eventually stuttered.
"I saved Tamlen's life. That's why I killed that bear. The fool forgot to check his surroundings when we were hunting." She snorted incredulously before Merrill motioned for her to continue. "He's the biggest idiot in the clan, I swear. We were just south of the clan when Tamlen found some flowers. The boy thought I'd like them so he bent down to pick them, completely ignoring my hushed warnings to flee. There was the biggest bear I have ever seen stood right behind him! It swiped at him but I managed to pull him away, then eventually I stabbed it with my dar'misaan. Mythal, I am such a hero." Lyla imitated a crowd cheering as she waved her arms around herself, causing Merrill to giggle uncontrollably.
"Some hero, you just stole his glory!" Merrill leant towards her sister and hushed her voice, "So, you and Tamlen are a thing then? Getting you flowers is cute!" Lyla grimaced and pretended to gag.
"Mer, don't even joke about it. He's really not for me!" Lyla blushed at how much of a boost it would be if Tamlen did like her but unfortunately for the boy, she was just not into men. She had recently realised this though and wasn't ready to tell anyone as it was against one of the biggest rules of the clan. "Can we talk about the design for my vallaslin now, please?"
Merrill smiled and produced a chalk and paper from her pouch; she had managed to grab some from Hahren Ilen's stores as they charged past it earlier.
The girls sat in the trees for hours, drawing different designs before eventually settling on one. Lyla loved to hunt so to have a dedication to the Goddess Andruil on her face was a given but the teen also wanted to celebrate Dirthamen. The mixture of the god of secrets and the goddess of hunt eventually became the design for a bow across her brow that swirled down the ridge of her nose and across her eyelids before masking her eyes. Lyla was in love with the design.
Lyla only needed to complete the process once. However, she told Merrill afterwards that the pain was so bad that it took all she had not to scream her head off or to attack the Hahren performing the process. As it turns out getting tattoos on your eyelids is even less enjoyable than it sounds.
The Hanged Man
"Hang on, there was another piece to her tattoo, wasn't there?" Isabel slurred, Merrill could swear that the pirate had some form of magic; she managed to make drinks disappear quicker than Merrill could get lost.
"Yes, she later got a dagger on her left cheek." Merrill sniffed, the story behind that tattoo was not as happy a story as the one she had just told, and she hated thinking of it. However, she had promised to tell the story of Lyla's tattoos so she had to tell it.
"It happened when I was nineteen and Mahariel was twenty three…"
The Brecillian Forest
"She's been gone a long time, Merrill." Ashalle spoke softly to her daughter. They were sitting by the fire in the middle of the camp, both exhausted from worry and lack of sleep. Lyla had been missing for about a month now and the clan had all but given up hope of finding her. They had stayed in the same campsite for longer than they wanted, all in the hope of their lost hunter finding her way back to them.
"She's still out there." Merrill growled an impressive imitation of her missing sister, before standing up. "I am going to find her, Ashalle, we can't just leave her."
Before Ashalle had a chance to respond, Merrill was off. She had only her clothing, her staff, and a pouch full of different herbs but it didn't matter. She was going to find her sister. She needed her.
She stumbled around in the forest for what seemed to be hours before hearing something behind her. A crack of a twig that made Merrill spin on the spot, her staff aimed up at the ready. A man in full shining armour stepped out into the small clearing and Merrill was astounded that she hadn't heard him earlier. She recognised the symbol on his chest though. It was one that was ingrained into every elvhen child, Templar. She raised her staff to fire but when she called upon her magic, she came up empty. The bastard had silenced her magic and she was powerless against him. One punch was all it took to take down the skinny elf and she felt tears fall as she lost consciousness.
The camp was horrifying. Merrill had woken as they dragged through it, just in time to see her sister again. Mahariel was draped against a wooden pole in the middle of the camp. All clothing had been cut from her and she was covered in wounds from head to toe, some looked mildly healed whilst others were fresh enough to have just been done. Merrill cried for her sister as they pulled her past the naked elf but Lyla only looked up at her, not truly recognising her. The fire that was usually in the hunter's eyes was all but gone, destroyed by the abuse she had suffered in the hands of the Templars, abuse that Merrill didn't even begin to understand, or want to.
Eventually they stopped moving, Merrill was forcefully pulled towards a man who ripped at her clothing to feel what was underneath, a cry left her lips as she began to understand what was about to happen. However, nothing did.
A roar of anger filled the camp as Lyla rose to her feet. She grabbed for a sword that a Templar had left near her as she charged through the camp. Her anger more than a match for the armed Templars attacking her and Lyla cut them down like flies. She had her way to her sister killing anything in her path before reaching them. The man who had groped Merrill turned to face her sister with a smirk on his face. He rose his left hand out to grab at the violent, crazed elf. Then he screamed.
Lyla had rose her sword, quicker than Merrill could see, and swung it down over the man's arm, severing it at the wrist. She span and quickly did the same to his other hand before shoving him with all of her might towards the roaring flames of the campfire. The Templar fell into the flames as Lyla collapsed to her knees, laughing maniacally as she did.
"Lethallan?" Merrill whispered. Screams erupted from the man and the smell of burning flesh made Merrill's stomach turn. She knew that her sister was angry but she couldn't let this man suffer so much. She called for her magic and fired an icy blast of snow at the flames, stopping the fires dead. "Lyla, let's go home. Ashalle missed you."
Lyla sobbed into her sisters arms and let herself be carried back home.
Two weeks later that Lyla demanded to be allowed an addition to her vallaslin. It was unheard of for any elf to change their blood writing at any time but Lyla would not let up. She screamed and roared that if the keeper didn't allow it she would just do it to herself and eventually Marethari let up, allowing her to add to her writing.
A small dagger was added to her face, an ode to Elgar'nan, the god of vengeance. The god that Lyla would try to become an embodiment of for the next year until she left to join the Wardens.
The Hanged Man
"Andraste's bloody knickers." Hawke gasped, she had held her lover as she struggled to tell the story and the full horror of it was finally hitting her. "Another reason to hate the bloody Templars."
"I'm beginning to think Blondie has the right idea." Varric muttered before excusing himself and the pirate from the table. Leaving Hawke alone to comfort her sobbing lover.