Daughter of Wind and Flame

By Pyreite

Chapter 7: To Rekindle Hope

"When you told Arryn about your discoveries in the Deep Roads. You compromised my honour and that of my elders. The Voices of the Vir'abelasan were sworn to silence. I was sworn to silence when I took the mantle of leadership. Such knowledge was never meant for Mythal's acolytes".

"A lie of omission is still a lie".

"It was necessary".

"You sound like Solas", accused Ellana. "He thought he knew what was best for me too".

Abelas was wary when her brows furrowed. Her pupils contracting to thin black slits. She held his gaze for a long and poignant moment. The tension lasting until he looked away – shuddering as if he'd stepped over an open grave. The bones of the interred bare to the sun.

He was quiet as a corpse.

"Don't speak to me of honour. In the Deep Roads there were Thaigs full of bones. Glassy-eyed women fed with the flesh of the dead. Broodmothers in a pit surrounded by their ravenous young. Restless spirits, shambling corpses, demons and hordes of darkspawn swarming like flies".

Abelas soon found his courage. The memories of his comrades – sick, mad and raving. Unforgettable. "How did you survive the taint?"

"Spite and dragon fire".

"Is there a cure?"

She arched an eyebrow, nostrils flaring. She tested his scent, finding nuances of fear, hope and anticipation. The sourness tinged with the sweetness of possibility. His question was layered with meaning. The invitation came with conditions.

"Don't toy with me".

Abelas' cheeks were flushed. He was panting. The rhythm of his breathing as quick as the beat of his heart. He returned her scrutiny, lifting his chin in challenge. It roused her ire.

"You consider me worthy of courting. I will consent if you help my people. We have many sick. Most we lost to the taint before the darkspawn retreated underground. Solas ordered us to place the rest in Uthenera".

"How long have they slept?"

"Four centuries. Each was sealed inside a stone sarcophagus".

"A mistake", said Ellana. "Many would've tried to claw their way out. If they didn't break their nails on the lid. They would've broken their fingers and hands in their desperation to find a Broodmother. Only she could soothe them, quietening an Archdemon's song to soften the pull till they were ready to feed".

"Feed?" asked Abelas with trepidation.

"On the flesh of the dead. That is how the darkspawn cemented the bond between themselves and a Broodmother. They'd eat her brood, spawned and slain for that purpose. They'd kill and consume anyone taken captive they couldn't turn. Males, children and the elderly".

"What of the women?"

"If they were young, strong and fertile. They were turned into Broodmothers. Force-fed the flesh of the dead. Other darkspawn retched into their mouths till they succumbed to the taint. During that transition they were violated till they fell pregnant".

He blanched at that vile thought. "How do you know this?"

Ellana offered him her hands, clawed and sharp as a blade. He approached her with caution, his steps slow and hesitant. He watched her with a wariness that spoke of dangerous past encounters. Yet she was still as a statue with her arms outstretched. After the burns he'd seen on Solas' skin, he didn't dare touch her.

He looked instead, hissing in surprise when she turned her wrists. Exposing the vulnerable underside of her forearms. On her left elbow was the puckered scar of Solas' magical amputation. Beneath it her regrown arm, wrist and hand. Scaled, scarred and pitted as if her skin had been raked by claws.

"Fenedhis lasa!"

Her right arm was the same. The lacerations deep, ragged and ugly. The multitude alarming when he saw several uneven half-circles. Some overlapping while others were inches apart. The width and breadth of each different in size.

"Bite marks".

"Vin", affirmed Ellana. "I was captured a fortnight after Mahariel dragged me underground. I was foolish and angry, venturing beyond the safety of the titan. I was alone in the dark till the darkspawn found me. I was taken to a Broodmother".

Abelas' skin crawled with apprehension. "How did you escape?"

"I didn't. Mahariel found me a week later, surrounded by scorched bodies and hot ash. My left-arm regrown and covered in scales. My eyes split by a slitted pupil. I alone had survived the conflagration, while the Broodmother and her ilk were dead".

He was almost afraid to ask. "Did the darkspawn?"

"The Broodmother deemed me unfit for breeding. Called my dragon's blood a pollutant. She hated Mythal, the titans and my connection to Solas. That I'd hunted and killed her kind had earned her enmity. She had me beaten, starved and tormented instead".

Abelas' composure crumbled. Tears trickled down his cheeks. He wept with relief, hope and shame. His shoulders shaking till something warm and rough stroked his cheek. He opened his eyes, breath hitching when a clawed hand slid under his chin.

He tensed thinking he'd be burned. Yet Ellana's touch was gentle and fleeting. Her hand falling away. She stared at his wet cheeks, her brows furrowing. She tested his scent, nostrils flaring when she smelt the briny tang of his regret.

"You weep for me".

"I was wrong. I did not recognise you for what you were, for what you are. I followed Solas when I should have followed you. If I had seen what I do now in the Temple of Mythal. You would not have suffered as you did. My people and I would have been there to protect you".

"We cannot change what was or what is", said Ellana. "Only what can be".

He was reminded of his mistress before the fall of Arlathan. "You speak as Mythal would".

"Only in the darkness can one see the light. She suffered as I did. In that way we are the same. In other ways we are different. I will help you and your people for a price".

He frowned, wary. "What do you want?"

"Mythal's soul. Speak to Solas. If he refuses to relinquish her to me than I will leave Skyhold. He has until Mahariel re-joins me to decide. For now I will stretch my wings and hunt".

"The forests are bare of game", replied Abelas, fearing the worst if she left them.

"For a hunter that travels on foot. I have wings. It'll be a short trip. Have a spit ready when I return. Arryn was gaunt-faced enough to offend me".

He retreated a safe distance when she lifted her horned head. The wind picked up, rustling the long tail of his braid. Abelas stopped several feet away, polite enough to give her room to shift and change. His heart thudded inside his chest. Heat streamed from her like water as if it were summer.

The baking air shimmered. The wind hot and dry. Ellana lifted her arms, her skin igniting. Tongues of veilfire-green danced and flickered. She was consumed in moments, her clothes, hair and horns ablaze. Abelas raised his hands to shield his face.

The brightness blinding until it faded.

Everything went quiet.

He was hesitant to lower his arms, to take a step forward. He tripped, toppling over. He grunted when he struck something solid and unyielding. He braced himself against it, eyes widening at the scrape of steel on stone. He glanced down, gasping when he found a tail as wide and tall as a druffalo.

It glinted like the underside of a seashell. Pearlescent. Its scales gleaning in the sunlight in a kaleidoscope of colours. White, grey, green, yellow, blue, red and orange. Each hue changing in the light from one to another.

"Fenedhis", swore Abelas.

He poked and prodded, curious as a cat. A soft rumble startled him. Badly. He snatched his hands back, freezing when he was blasted by hot air. He was certain that he'd be eaten.

He blanched when he saw a pair of nostrils. Each the size of his head, trimmed in silver-white scales. Flaring wide as the creature towering over him sniffed like a curious horse. A scaled muzzle brushed his breastplate, arm and shoulder. Its touch gentle rather than forceful as if Ellana knew her own strength.

"Mythal enaste".

Abelas laid his hands upon her nose, delighted when she purred like a cat. He felt that leonine rumble through the steel and leather of his gauntlets. Overshadowed by her gargantuan form, his fear abating. He peered into the eyes of a silver dragon, seeing an elf's considerateness reflected there. It was a comfort to know that Ellana's consciousness remained while she wore her suit of scales.

"You will return?"

The dragoness replied with a growl of ascent.

"Ma serrannas".