Hello everyone, and thanks for reading! I originally posted this story on AO3 but decided to cross-post it here as well. More readership, right? It's a mildly canon-divergent Blight/DA:O tale with f!Cousland/Leliana as the main pairing. There are other F/F pairs in the early chapters, including f!Cousland/f!OC, Leliana/f!Hawke, and of course Leliana/Marjolaine, but the main focus is the bracketed pair.

This story occurs in a canon-divergent AU, the same AU of my story "Spells" (f!Hawke/Anders DA2 AU, highly focused on mage rights). However, prior knowledge of the AU is not required to understand this story. I wrote this and "Spells" to stand on their own, so everything AU that you need to know to understand this story will be narrated in this story.

Sanctification

Chapter 1: Alpha Wolf

Dragon 9:20, the Storm Coast off Highever.

The sun was bright, the leaves were green, the wind was blowing in clouds from offshore—never a surprise on the aptly named Storm Coast, for even sunny days such as this one did not often last—and the Cousland daughter and her companions were socializing before the spread picnic in the woods.

Elissa Cousland, age twelve, sat happily next to her best friend, Alfstanna Eremon, daughter of the Bann of the Waking Sea Bannorn. Her father was a vassal of the Teyrn of Highever, and the Waking Sea Bannorn marched with Highever—so in addition to being close friends, they got to see each other frequently. For social occasions such as this one that required the presence of many Fereldan nobles, the companionship of her best friend was critical, for so few Fereldan noble girls enjoyed sparring and hunting like Elissa—but Alfstanna did. Both girls wore leather breeches, riding boots, and tunics made of Highever weave rather than the noblewomen's gowns that the other girls, Anora Mac Tir and Habren Bryland, wore.

Elissa was glad of it when Habren had jumped up, shrieking about ants up her petticoat. In truth, she was also smugly pleased that the ants had targeted Habren, who she felt deserved it, rather than Anora—but it was still better to wear what was essentially armor.

Elissa and Alfstanna had had to stifle snickers when Habren had leaped around the tablecloth, panicking as the little insects crawled up her legs, all her supposed dignity gone. Elissa was not certain of it, but she thought she had even caught a ghost of a smirk on Anora's face too. Nobody likes Habren, she thought, and who can blame us for it? Elissa reflected on the conversation that occurred just prior to the ants' invasion.

"My father is going to let Irminric and me try to imprint on mabari puppies," Alfstanna had announced proudly. Elissa had looked at her with envy; she wanted a mabari of her own and felt that she had to be old enough. Anora had also smiled politely.

Habren, however, turned up her nose and sniffed. "I would not want one," she spat petulantly. "They hate me. Perhaps you will have better luck, though. Your father is just a bann. I suppose they dislike me because I am a lady and they are so filthy."

In that moment, Habren's insult to Alfstanna went almost unnoticed. Calling mabari hounds filthy was simply not done in Ferelden, least of all among the nobility. Mabari were an important part of their country's heritage. The other girls stared at her as if she had blasphemed the name of Andraste.

Then they recovered themselves. "My lord father is a teyrn and he had a mabari," Anora began to say hotly, her usually perfect composure shattered.

"Yes, but everyone knows about your father's background," Habren began.

"My parents had mabari too," Elissa said at once. She clenched her fists, wishing she could send one straight into the snooty girl's nose. "You cannot say a word against the background of the Teyrn of Highever."

Habren had glowered back at Elissa, silenced—and then the ants had struck. Elissa had regarded it as justice, perhaps the justice of the land itself. Fereldan land, not tolerating any insults to itself, she had thought, enjoying the sight and munching on an apple as Habren danced around the picnic site.

Alfstanna looked at her best friend with a grin. "You are enjoying this."

Elissa shrugged innocently and tossed her apple core away. "I? Enjoying the misfortune of one of our friends and companions?"

"Companions, yes," Alfstanna agreed. "Friends? I think not."

Habren finally burst into a sob. "They're in my pantaloons! I can't... I have to go inside and change." She dashed away towards Castle Highever.

Anora Mac Tir was the oldest girl present, being three years older than Elissa, and she was betrothed to Prince Cailan. Elissa had been greatly relieved the day that the couriers had brought word of Lady Anora's betrothal, because it meant that she would not have to marry the prince—and she knew that the idea was disgusting to her. But being the eldest and the future Queen of Ferelden, Anora tended to take on an authoritative persona sometimes, and this was one of those times. She gazed at her friends disapprovingly. "I do not like her either, but this was unkind," she began to say.

"I didn't do anything," Elissa objected. "I didn't put the ants there."

"I know. I meant laughing at her."

Elissa and Alfstanna exchanged a dark, secret glance. "She deserved it," Elissa burst out. "That and much more. Do you know why she has not imprinted on a mabari?"

Anora hesitated. "No, but it is not unusual. Many do not. My lord father only had one in his life. It requires the right dog for a person. Even being kind to one will not guarantee an imprint."

"I know, and that isn't what I mean. Habren... she kills puppies."

Anora looked deeply disturbed at this. "That is a very serious thing to say."

"And it's true," Elissa insisted. "I heard my parents talking about it when the Brylands arrived. Arl Leonas was complaining about how he had purchased a mabari puppy from a breeder for Habren and it 'disappeared.' After he left, my parents talked about what they had heard she did. She tortures them, and when they turn against her, she throws them in rivers or chokes them to death." Elissa was becoming exercised, feeling the heat of anger suffuse her at the thought of it. "Arl Leonas doesn't know—or he doesn't choose to see. But my parents know. She's horrible, Anora. She's a dog-killer."

The daughter of the Teyrn of Gwaren looked down, discomfited. "If that is true, then you are right—she is. But... did it sound as though your parents had actually seen her doing this?"

Elissa considered before reluctantly shaking her head. "They spoke of it as a rumor. But I believe it."

"So do I," Alfstanna chimed in, supporting her best friend. She linked arms with Elissa.

In spite of the horrid subject matter of their conversation, Elissa felt a strange warmth suffuse her as their arms touched.

"It is honorable of you to believe your parents," Anora finally said, that same queenly, authoritative—yet somehow cold—tone filling her words again. "Right and proper. But... if they haven't seen Habren hurting dogs..."

Elissa scowled, seeing how this was going to turn out. "Then I'm glad that the ants bit her," she said spitefully, "and perhaps people will have proof when a mabari fights back and takes a chunk out of her."

Alfstanna looked at her friend in shock but admiration. Anora was just shocked. "If that happens," she said when she had recovered, "the poor dog will just be put down, you know."

Elissa saw the truth in Anora's words, but she did not want to accept it or think about that. She loved dogs and their kin. She had always observed in awe and hope whenever a mabari in the Cousland kennels whelped, hopeful that one of the puppies would become her own. It had not yet happened. She also had seen the forest wolves of the Storm Coast and felt joy at the sight of them. Whenever Fergus took her into the woods—or she sneaked away herself with a bow and quiver—and she caught sight of a wolf pack, she admired from a distance, not feeling any fear of them, just awe and a strange, probably imagined pull to them. Once she had managed to get close enough to look into the eyes of a wolf mother that stood fifteen feet away, guarding her pups. Ordinarily a wolf would regard the intruder as a mortal threat to her young and would growl and perhaps even attack, but as Elissa had gazed at the wolf, she had felt, somehow, that she could tell the wolf in her thoughts that she meant no harm to her or her pups—and at last, the mother had shuffled her litter away from Elissa, with neither human nor wolf blood spilled.

"If she tries that," Elissa finally replied, bringing her thoughts back to the present, "if I ever see her hurting a dog that fights back and she tries to have it killed... well, I'll make sure it gets free."

Alfstanna nodded in approval, reaching for her friend's hand. As their warm hands slid into each other, Elissa felt that curious, unfamiliar warmth fill her again.

The clouds that the wind had blown in the previous day had indeed heralded a storm, which came to no surprise to any of the Coastlands families. Rain and wind battered Highever Castle overnight, and lightning and thunder rocked the ramparts with exciting flashes and crashes.

With the number of nobles present, Alfstanna could not have had her own guest bedroom. Only the daughter of the Teyrn of Gwaren and future Queen-Consort had that honor. But rather than being bunked with the other daughters of arls and banns, which would have included the detestable Habren Bryland, Alfstanna had chosen to share her best friend's room. The two girls huddled together on the floor around a dwarven-made runed lamp as the storm buffeted the castle, a window seat looming before them.

Elissa was excited, because of the storm and because she had done something extremely forbidden that she was about to reveal to her friend. "Guess what?" she said in a hushed whisper.

Alfstanna looked up at her, grinning, aware that her friend had done something naughty and eager to be let in on the secret.

Elissa smirked back as she drew two bottles out from under the cushion of the window seat. "I got these out of the cellar tonight."

Alfstanna covered her mouth to mute the shocked squeal that nearly burst from her. "Elissa!" she exclaimed at last in a whisper.

Elissa took out a knife and popped the ale bottles open. They were brewed from a Bannorn harvest, famously good, and she passed one to her friend with that grin still on her face. "Fergus can have wine at the table and he's only a few years older than we are. Why can't we have ale? It isn't as strong." She took a sip from the bottle and suddenly grimaced; she had not expected that bitter taste. It was very much unlike the teas and fruity cordials that she had. However, as she forced the brown liquid down, she found herself liking it. It was different... and it would take getting used to... but she could see why adults thought Bannorn ale good, after all.

Alfstanna had been gazing at Elissa in awe at her daring before finally taking a sip from her own bottle. She winced too but forced the ale down. "Wow," she said. "That's different."

"That's exactly what I thought," Elissa said, pleased that her best friend thought the same. "Good, though."

"I hope it doesn't make us drunk. That would be disgraceful."

"I've never heard of anyone getting drunk off one bottle or one goblet of anything. I don't think we have a thing to worry about."

"Well, we're still young... but I will stop if I start to feel funny. You should too."

Although Elissa was still intoxicated—not from the ale, but from the act of rebellion—she saw her friend's point and resolved privately to not make a fool of herself. As exciting as this was, she did know that it would shame her parents and reflect badly on her if she became drunk at age twelve at an event where so many high nobles of Ferelden were present, and she did not want to do that. I want to test the limit but not disgrace myself, she thought. I am my own person, a different sort of girl from the usual, independent, but I love my family and I understand who and what I am too. I can do this and be careful about it, so that's what I'll do.

As she and Alfstanna sipped their ale carefully, she nevertheless did start to feel herself becoming more playful and open. With about a third of the foamy drink left, she finally gave in. Turning to her friend with a wicked gleam in her eye, she said, boldly, "Truth or dare."

Alfstanna set down her bottle. "Oh, no. No. No."

"Yes," Elissa insisted.

"It will embarrass me."

"You can challenge me too, you know. And we're friends. Best friends. What could you say to me that would be embarrassing?"

Alfstanna didn't want to respond. Her cheeks blushed faintly at some unspoken secret. Elissa felt her heart leap suddenly, for what reason she could not say—or did not understand herself, or could not vocalize at the age of twelve.

But then Alfstanna got command of herself and fixed her friend with a firm gaze. "Truth or dare, Elissa."

"Dare," Elissa said at once, not even hesitating.

Alfstanna smirked. She paused for a moment, making her friend wait, before speaking again. "I dare you to whistle to a great forest wolf, a direwolf, the next time we are in the woods and you see one. Especially if Lady Habren the Dog-Killing Hag is there."

"That's it?" Elissa laughed, sipping her ale. "I can't wait to do that!" She smirked back at her friend. "Truth or dare."

Alfstanna considered for a moment before saying, "Truth."

Elissa smirked; she had hoped that Alfstanna would say that. Fingering the mouth of her bottle, she took her time before speaking again. "Is it true that you have a secret someone that you like and that's why you were blushing just now?" she asked, surprised at her own boldness.

Alfstanna drew back, shocked, her cheeks reddening again—but the rules of the game were what they were, and she had no choice. "Yes," she confessed in a low voice.

Elissa's heart leaped at this, though again, she could not quite admit the reason why. She waited for the other shoe to drop, and when Alfstanna remained resolutely silent, she finally burst out, "Well, are you going to tell me?"

Alfstanna took a sip of her ale and gazed back, some of her confidence restored. "You already asked me one truth. You don't get two."

"Hmph." That was true, Elissa had to admit. She wanted to know, to have the confirmation of what she hoped, but she had to be fair and follow the rules of the game. She sipped her own ale. "Your turn, then."

"Truth or dare."

"Dare," Elissa said again. "And do give me a better one this time."

Alfstanna considered for a moment. "I dare you to tell Tommy Howe or Vaughan Kendells to go the Void—in front of his father."

Elissa's blue-grey eyes widened; Alfstanna had shocked her this time. Tommy Howe was a petulant little monster who was entirely too full of himself now that his father, the mercurial and rather frightening Arl of Amaranthine, had sent his elder brother Nathaniel to the Free Marches to squire, declaring Tommy—the youngest child—the Howe family heir, above his elder brother and sister. Although he was no older than Elissa herself, he swaggered around with a sword on his belt that he named "Bear's Tooth" after the animal that was the sigil of the Howe family, declaring to all and sundry that he was the heir to Amaranthine and that people would have to obey his will in due time. It was disgusting to her. Fergus was the presumptive heir of Highever—a fact that she sometimes didn't like to think about, for what it implied for her own future and her need to make her way in the world by some other method—but he never behaved that way. And Vaughan Kendells was simply repulsive to her. Elissa could not put her finger on exactly how, but something about him made her skin crawl and enraged her at the same time. She had heard him speak of women in an absolutely appalling way, using the c-word, so profane that she didn't even want to think the word out in her own thoughts. She had thought of the f-word before, but that one was too much—or perhaps it was too awful for her as a girl herself, at least the way that Vaughan used it. She also didn't like the way he looked at the female Highever servants, particularly the elven ones. It angered her even more when the maids themselves became uncomfortable under his predatory gaze and scurried off to avoid him. But his father, the Arl of Denerim, turned a blind eye to anything his son did. To tell either of the boys to go to the Void in front of their father was a dare indeed.

And yet, it appealed to her. Because if they belonged anywhere, it was the Void, Elissa thought mutinously. She turned to Alfstanna and said, "I will."

Alfstanna suppressed her own grin as Elissa took her turn. "Truth or dare."

Alfstanna considered for a moment, reflecting on how the previous round with Elissa had gone and what her friend would likely demand of her if she said "truth"—the identity of her secret crush. She couldn't tell Elissa that. She just couldn't. It would be simply too awful. "Dare," she finally said.

Elissa looked disappointed for a moment, but as she finished off her bottle of ale and set it aside, she resolved to make the best of the situation. "All right," she said. "I dare you to go to the person who is special to you that you told me about and kiss them on the cheek." With a full bottle of ale in her twelve-year-old body, and the headiness of the demand itself, she was feeling very excited and thrilled with herself. Alfstanna means me, she thought giddily. She means me, and now she'll have to show me. It intoxicated her, though why that was, she could not say. She had never felt this giddy and excited about anyone before. She didn't even know what she was feeling, just that she wanted to explore it.

But Alfstanna looked horrified. She set down her bottle and turned to her friend, her face ghastly pale. "You can't," she begged her. "You can't ask that of me. It's not fair, Elissa. It's... not ladylike. It's improper. Please don't make me."

Elissa gazed back at her as her words sank in. She had been looking forward to a kiss on the cheek from Alfstanna... but if her friend did not want to yet, if she wasn't comfortable with it—and, Elissa had to acknowledge, she herself barely understood this feeling, so Alfstanna indeed might not be comfortable with it—then it was wrong of her to ask it.

We agreed to the rules of Truth or Dare, she thought—but another thought then intruded. And what if the rules are wrong? What if they aren't meant for situations like this? It's not right for me to use them for this purpose if so. Unhappily, but resignedly, she turned to her friend. "All right," she said. "I understand." Relief filled Alfstanna's face as Elissa continued with her new dare. "I dare you to use the f-word against Tommy Howe or Vaughan Kendells when I do tell whichever of them to go to the Void."

Alfstanna's eyes grew wide, but she assented, barely believing it herself. "I will," she said, awed at her own promise.

The girls' forbidden night of ale and dares did not leave Elissa's bedroom. After the single bottle apiece, they agreed that that was all—and Elissa did not have any more anyway. Perhaps Alfstanna was also too discomfited by the nature of Elissa's retracted dare—as well as her replacement one, Elissa thought, as the two girls piled into bed together under the crashing thunder and battering rain. As her friend dozed off, she realized that she kind of wanted to cuddle her... but if Alfstanna was uncomfortable giving her the cheek kiss that she had asked for, then she wasn't going to force a cuddle on her either.

What am I doing? Elissa thought before she had gone to sleep. What does this mean? I've been friends with Alfstanna for two years and have never felt this way about her before. Why is it different now? Is this normal? I thought girls were supposed to want to kiss boys when they reached a certain age... but not me. I don't like boys. I don't want to kiss them... but maybe I want to kiss girls. Is that normal? Is there something wrong with me? Or will I want to kiss boys later on, like other girls?

The thunderous night offered no answers to her, nor did her prayers to Andraste and the Maker. She had never heard the priest at the Chantry of Highever saying it was wrong for a girl to like girls, but then, the priest had never talked about the subject at all. Elissa didn't know what to think. Alfstanna didn't want to kiss me, she thought as she tried to go to sleep. She didn't want to do that dare. She would rather say the f-word than kiss me. I hope in time that she will come around. It can't be that strange if my very best friend wants to do it too, can it?

The following day.

Elissa made a point of getting rid of the empty ale bottles so that the servants would not see the evidence. Alfstanna looked relieved as she and Elissa got dressed—wearing leathers again, as they had the day before. It was as if she wanted all tangible, physical evidence of the night before gone.

The nobles had gathered at Highever to discuss the recent ascendancy of the sixteen-year-old Lady Celene Valmont to the throne of Orlais, and specifically what it might mean for Ferelden. Emperor Florian had been the enemy of Ferelden during the Rebellion, of which many of the current nobles were veterans, and the more optimistic—such as Arl Eamon Guerrin of Redcliffe—hoped that Celene would herald a new era of cooperation between the two nations. Others, such as Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, were less sanguine. Elissa's parents, the Teyrn and Teyrna of Highever, were skeptical of the new Empress of Orlais but nonetheless open-minded. A sixteen-year-old would hardly be set in stone as a ruthless tyrant, after all, even if she did have to be very proficient at the Great Game of Orlais to manage to ascend to the imperial throne at such a tender age. Despite her methods of achieving her ambition, perhaps she really did just want the best for her country, rather than to involve it in needless wars with a neighbor that manifestly wanted to be free and independent and was willing to pay the price in blood to have that. They were hopeful, and so Elissa was hopeful.

But she was also just twelve. Celene Valmont might be Empress of Orlais at sixteen, and for all Elissa knew, she might be leading an army at sixteen herself—but she was not sixteen now. Today, she just wanted to get away from the castle with Alfstanna and go into the woods. She had not forgotten the first dare, the dare involving wolves, and it excited her to try to fulfill it.

She carried her bow and quiver of arrows on her back, just to be safe, as she tramped through the soggy earth, inhaling the scent of wet leaves and dirt after the storm, Alfstanna tagging along behind in her own leathers. Opportunity seemed to fill the air itself. As Elissa stepped between the trees, she felt the thrill of excitement at... something. It was a sort of preternatural awareness that this would be an important day, she realized as she passed through a small grotto of stone. Perhaps she really would see a great forest wolf, or a direwolf, as some called the oversize canines. They were rare, far more uncommon than the ordinary wolves of the forest, and said to be more common in the Frostback Mountains than the "lowlands" of Ferelden, but they were not extinct. Elissa thought she had seen one before, as a child. She was not positive—to a little girl of eight, any wolf would seem large—but this one might have been.

Elissa didn't know what to make of her strange compulsion to be near dogs and wolves. She had heard a folk legend about Andraste, that the Prophet and Bride of the Maker had had a loyal mabari that was bound to her by seemingly supernatural means, but the priests of the Chantry had insisted that this story was false and that the only true accounts of Andraste were those found in the Chant of Light, and any other claims about the Prophet were heresy, even one as harmless as the claim that she had had a Fereldan mabari imprinted on her. Elissa had wanted to be faithful and not doubt priests... she did not want to be a heretic and go to the Void when she died... but she had heard her father and mother muttering about Orlesian influence in Andrastian doctrine, political pressure during the Rebellion, and she knew that the mabari was specifically a Fereldan national icon... and then when she kept feeling a pull to wolves and dogs herself...

"Well, what have we here?"

Elissa turned around sharply, followed by Alfstanna. Scowls covered their faces at the sight of Tommy Howe, his face breaking into an obnoxious smirk, his stupid sword Bear's Tooth—he doesn't even know what to do with it, Elissa thought in derision—sheathed at his belt.

"Lord Thomas," Alfstanna said coldly.

"Have you been following us?" Elissa demanded.

Tommy shook his head. "Why, no. It's merely not that difficult to find other people in these woods. They are not nearly as thick and dense as the ones outside of Amaranthine. How can your parents' people hunt here, Elissa, when any beast could see and hear people coming from a mile away?"

Elissa glowered at him. "Perhaps you should ask them that, if you have the nerve to question the Teyrn of Highever and the Seawolf of the Waking Sea—which I'm guessing you don't. Our larders never seem to lack for meat, though. Apparently our hunters are better at sighting beasts than you are, Tommy Howe—or maybe they're just careful and quiet enough that they don't run everything off. Did you consider that?"

Tommy glowered at her. "My lord father said that you were—not ladylike," he snarled. "I see that he was right."

"I don't care what your lord father thinks of me. Apparently he doesn't know what it means to be a gentleman either, if he thinks you are one."

Tommy looked furious for a moment before hissing back, "My lord father said that he thought your parents were too accepting of this new Orlesian bitch. Not as bad as the Arl of Redcliffe, but—"

"You watch your mouth," Elissa said. In a fraction of a second, her bowstring was drawn and an arrow was nocked, pointed not at Tommy Howe's head—she was not quite bold enough to directly threaten the life of the heir of Amaranthine—but at his crotch.

Tommy yelped at the sight and tried to back away. "I didn't do anything to you! How dare you—I'll tell my lord father—"

"If you do, I'll tell my parents what you said about them, and what you say your father said," Elissa retorted. "Would he like that?"

Tommy whimpered as he mumbled a negative. Scowling but satisfied, Elissa withdrew her weapons.

The stark howl of a wolf interrupted the fight, piercing the forest with a sound that sent chills down Elissa's back.

Elissa exchanged a quick glance with Alfstanna, remembering her promise in response to her friend's dare the night before. "Let's find it!" she exclaimed.

Alfstanna was excited too, and as Elissa began to run in the direction of the howl, she quickly followed. Tommy Howe whined again. "I don't want to," he complained, though he stamped after them, his boots sticking in mud puddles, making enough noise to scare off anything nearby, just as Elissa had said. And yet he followed them.

The three of them, the girls in front and Howe behind, followed the sound of the howl until the wolf stopped calling. Elissa stopped in the woods, frowning, as the sound subsided. I don't want to give up now, she thought in disappointment, pausing and waiting for the animal to start its call again. I want to see it. I want to whistle to it...

"I want to go back," Tommy complained as he caught up, panting and out of breath.

"Shut up," Elissa said. The boy looked affronted for a moment until Alfstanna glowered at him, fondling the knife at her belt. Elissa closed her eyes.

She could not have explained why she did it, or what she hoped it would accomplish. It was an instinctual act, one that she took without expecting a particular outcome, at least consciously. And yet, when she sealed away all visual input from the real world and tried to focus her mind on something more, something beyond, it was then that she felt the presence of the wolf again.

"That way," she said, opening her eyes. "East." She pointed.

"How can you—" Alfstanna began, but she broke off as her friend began to jog toward the east. Shrugging, she followed, as did Tommy, despite his earlier complaints.

They darted through the woods, Elissa and Alfstanna trying to be light-footed and not make much noise, Tommy unconcerned with it. Elissa continued to follow this indescribable sense of hers that told her that the wolf—wolves, she suddenly thought at one point, because there are more than one—were in this specific direction. Alfstanna did not know what to make of it, but she did not question her friend's intuition. Tommy Howe did seem to have a problem with it, but that did not stop him from following the girls, even though they had not invited him.

At last Elissa halted. A grove loomed before her, a thicket of thorns and bushes blocking a shadowed area. "That's the wolf's den," she said in a low voice. "And it's a big one. I think it is a great wolf."

"How do you know?" Alfstanna finally said, panting as she caught up.

"I just know." Elissa could not explain it herself, but she knew it to be true. She put her fingers to her mouth and whistled.

Tommy Howe finally caught up, glowering and panting heavily, resentful of his own decision to follow them, but clearly not taking any responsibility for it. "I can't believe that we—" he began to say.

"Shut up!"

The speaker was Alfstanna. Tommy looked to object, but he closed his mouth as a wolf, large and grey, emerged from the thicket, followed by three half-grown pups.

Elissa stared at the animal, wolf eyes meeting human ones. "You're beautiful," she murmured as the wolf, much larger than a normal one, drew near. "So beautiful..."

She had almost touched the wolf's snout when Tommy shouted. "That's not right! It's not normal! It's unnatural!" He drew his sword, Bear's Tooth, and hurled it ignorantly at the great wolf.

Elissa did not even take the time to think of the fact that he knew no more of swordplay than that they were not meant to be thrown. She was concerned for the wolf and its pups as the sharp blade flew through the air—but she need not have worried. The mother wolf instantly backed away, easily avoiding the point, and the pups were never in any danger. She only growled at the stupid young lordling as she hurried her young back into her den.

But Tommy Howe continued to throw his tantrum as he retrieved his blade. "You're an abnormality!" he bawled, pointing at Elissa. "You shouldn't have been able to sense that—that beast! It isn't right!"

Elissa's heart was pounding, but she kept her confidence and her cool as she faced him down. "Is that so? I just followed my senses! It's not my fault that you aren't any good at tracking animals!"

"It wasn't tracking! That—that wasn't normal!" He sheathed the sword and pointed malevolently at her. "It's magic, that's what it is! You're a mage!"

"I am not!" Elissa had been taken to the Highever Healer many a time for various wounds she had incurred on her hunts, so she did not fear healing magic, but she knew what it meant to be a mage and it wasn't something she ever wanted. Her heart thumped. It wasn't magic, what she had done... was it? She had insisted to Tommy that it was just tracking, that she had just followed her senses... and that was true, in a way... but what sense, exactly, had she used? She could not say. She had not heard or seen the wolf after its howls had ceased; she had followed her instinct... of sorts. She could not explain what had happened, why she had felt the connection with this great wolf that had led her to its den and then helped her to assure the wolf—as she had done four years ago with a different one—that she meant no threat to its offspring. This was not just something that had happened now. It had been something she was aware of for years, she realized—aware of and unable to explain. What if—what if Tommy was right?

"You are," he insisted, drawing away. "You're a mage. And that means you'll be sent to the Tower and shut up, away from everybody else, to keep normal people safe!" He ran away, crashing through the path that they had trod in their hunt for the wolf.

Elissa did not hesitate; she followed after him, determined to get to her parents to tell them the truth of what had happened before the Howe boy could spread some sort of fearful exaggeration or lie. Alfstanna ran after her.

"I know you're not," she assured Elissa. "It's all right."

But what did I do, then, if I'm not? Elissa thought.

"She's a mage!" Tommy Howe exclaimed as the three young people reached a small group of nobles gathered on the grounds of Highever. Elissa groaned as she noticed her parents and the Howes standing together, talking.

Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine, regarded Elissa coldly before turning to his son. "I highly doubt that," he declared. "Don't be a fool, boy."

"I'm not!" Elissa insisted as she reached them.

Tommy pointed at her accusingly. "We heard a wolf howl in the woods and she just—tracked it, even after it stopped calling! We couldn't see or hear it! She wasn't looking at the ground for tracks or shit or—"

"Mind your tongue," Arl Howe said sharply. "You are a noble."

In spite of everything, a rebellious thought passed through Elissa's mind. Oh, it is going to be good when Alfstanna says the f-word if she has to say it in front of him, she thought gleefully. Then she remembered the rest of the dare. She just had to say it after Elissa herself had told Tommy Howe or Vaughan Kendells to go to the Void in his father's hearing. And that could be now!

Alfstanna seemed to realize what her friend was thinking, and she gave Elissa a desperate look, shaking her head quickly once. Elissa suppressed a sigh; she supposed that now was probably not the best time to shock the arl. "I am not a mage," she insisted. "I did track the wolf."

"How?" sneered Tommy.

Elissa drew herself up tightly as she glared at him. "I don't owe you an explanation."

"Because it's magic! And you're afraid that you will be sent away from your parents and—"

Suddenly Elissa's mother, Eleanor Cousland, the Teyrna of Highever, stepped forward. Anger was in her face as she glowered first at the Howe boy and then at the Arl himself. "I know what my daughter did," she said imperiously, "and I assure you, it is not magic. It is a talent... and I trust that my word on this matter will be the end of this, my lord Arl."

Rendon Howe glared at his son. "Certainly, my lady. I will have some words with my fool of a son later."

Elissa paced nervously around the great room as she awaited her mother. The teyrna had promised her that she would talk with her about the talent as soon as she had a chance, and that it was not just something she had told the Arl of Amaranthine to placate him and silence his loudmouth son, but was the truth. Elissa was anxious to hear it. Would this be an explanation at last for the strange ability she had vaguely known of for years?

At last Eleanor entered the room, closing the door behind her. Elissa stopped her pacing and faced her mother, trying to read her expression. To her immediate relief, there was nothing in her mother's face except pride and love.

"My dear daughter," Eleanor said, approaching Elissa and giving her a hug. "Let us have a seat."

Elissa took a seat in a chair next to her mother's. "It isn't magic, is it?" she asked.

Eleanor gazed compassionately at her. "It is not magic—at least not as the Chantry defines magic."

Elissa thought about that for a moment, trying to figure out what her mother meant. "But... what is it, then?" she said. "You make it sound as if it really is something... different."

"It is that," said Eleanor. "Different, yes." She gazed at her daughter lovingly. "My dear... you have inherited a rare gift from the Mac Eanraig bloodline. My bloodline. I do not even have it myself, it is so unusual now. But it is in my family history, your family history on my side."

"What do you mean, Mother? What gift?" Elissa honestly had no idea what her mother meant. As a noble girl, she had learned all about the history of her family on both sides, the proud heritage, the valor and honor in ancient and modern times that gave Couslands and Mac Eanraigs such respect throughout the Coastlands... but she had never heard of any special talent passed down.

Eleanor smiled. "Do you know why I became known as the Seawolf," she asked, "instead of the Sea Dragon, or the Kraken, or the Shark?"

Elissa thought about that. Her mother was known as the Seawolf for her ferocity at sea in the war for liberation against the Orlesians. It had attracted her father, and her parents had fallen in love during the war. But now that she had to consider the question, she actually didn't know why her mother had been given that specific appellation. She faced her mother and shook her head. "I guess not," she admitted. "I suppose it has something to do with why I can... call to wolves... and this gift that you refer to."

Eleanor smiled proudly. "It does," she confirmed. She relaxed in her chair, implying a story ahead. Elissa tried to relax too as her mother narrated. "Long ago, before King Calenhad, before there even was a nation called Ferelden, the Alamarri tribes—our ancestors—had people occasionally who could form a special bond with a particular kind of animal, sometimes more than one. They called it 'ranging' and those who could do it 'rangers.' Scholars claim that the Avvar barbarians in the mountains still see this ability very often, at least in comparison with us... as do the Dalish elves in their clans... and there are even tales out of the dwarven kingdom of dwarves who have formed a similar type of bond with creatures of the underground, like brontos and deepstalkers... but among modern humans, it has become very rare as we have intermarried more and more outside those families with 'pure' Alamarri or Avvar blood. Perhaps it was never that common even in ancient times." She took a breath. "But the Mac Eanraig family had that ability."

Elissa gasped as understanding dawned for her.

"For the ancient Mac Eanraigs, the animal with which they could 'commune' was the wolf," Eleanor continued. "As my family legends have it, once in a rare while, a Mac Eanraig would have the ability to call to wolves like an alpha, sometimes even to a great wolf, a direwolf, who commands the respect of all others of its kind and stands above their packs." She gazed at her daughter, who was staring at her with awed, enraptured—and, admittedly, slightly frightened—eyes. "Some awareness of it remained in common knowledge even after it seemed that the ability itself faded, which is why I was called the Seawolf. Even during my lifetime, those on the islands associated my family with the trait. It has been a long time since one of us was a ranger... but there can be little doubt that that is what it is for you."

Elissa tried to take this all in. It wasn't magic; she wasn't a mage; it was ranging and it was an ancient talent from her mother's bloodline... As she allowed herself to accept this, images filled her mind, imaginings of fierce but lovely barbarians of the islands calling to wolves... or bears, or harts, or wyverns... It was a vision of a Ferelden before it bore that name, a time that had now fallen into the murk of legend, as her mother's account proved. A time when the Alamarri, the Avvar, and the Chasind ruled the land in holds with ranger chieftains and mage augurs instead of nobles such as her own family and Chantry priests. Elissa was a little frightened at how appealing this vision was to her... but she also knew that that time was long gone, with the exception of a few remote pockets.

But she had this talent. Regardless of what the world had become now, she was apparently a ranger of the forest wolves, and surely there was a reason for that. She was meant to have this gift, she was certain.

"I have this," she murmured, just loudly enough for her mother to hear and smile. She glanced up at Eleanor. "Fergus—does he? He has never said anything to me about it..."

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't think he can, darling. Now, you mustn't boast about that to him. If the Maker wanted you to be born with this talent, which He must have, He didn't intend you to be smug and arrogant about it, especially not to your own brother."

Elissa considered that before nodding. She might have wanted to boast of it to the likes of Tommy Howe—or Habren Bryland, for that matter—but not to Fergus. And she reluctantly acknowledged privately that her mother was right that she ought not to boast of it at all. Grudgingly she recalled Tommy's reaction to her tracking of the wolf today.

"I admit, I don't know how to teach you to develop your gift," Eleanor said. "I wish I did... but I will try to find what I can in my family lore."

In that moment, Elissa was not worried about such a mundane concern. Of course her mother would find the lore that she needed. Everything seemed fine and all was well for Elissa's world right now, she felt with a surge of love for her mother. "This is wonderful," she told Eleanor, sincerity in her words, "and I'm so proud that I have this. Not arrogant, but proud—I can be proud of it, right? Like I am proud that I am a Cousland too?"

"Of course you can, my dear."

Elissa smiled. "And... if I may say so... I was kind of worried when Tommy Howe was so insistent that it was magic, since I knew it was different from normal tracking and didn't know what it could be. I am glad that I won't be sent to a tower and taken from our family."

Eleanor hugged her daughter, giving her a kiss on top of her brunette head. "I hope you will have your family for a long, long time."

End Notes:

Yes, this explanation of the Ranger spec for a human rogue is totally made-up, but it's one of those things in the games that look mightily close to magic in some ways and yet not quite. Therefore I have given it a mystical legend as its origin while not making it human-specific.

And to be clear, I am not going to turn this into direwolf warging—it is the Ranger spec and that's it. I do admit, as a Song of Ice and Fire fan (a disgruntled one, but nonetheless a fan), that there will be some influences of that series upon these characters, because it's unavoidable for writers to be influenced by other stories that they like. This Elissa is going to be somewhat influenced by Arya Stark (if Arya were gay), since she is a ranger and is more classically "honorable" than my radical-revolutionary aggro pyromancer mage Caitlyn Hawke. But she's still herself first and foremost, not any other character.