Song and Silence

The deafening silence of the Deep Roads was broken abruptly by the hastened footfalls of a young woman. Bow and arrows at her back, dagger in hand, she fled not from the darkspawn, but ever further into their hold.

She paused in her tracks, heavily out of breath. She brushed a flame flyaway from her eyes and cursed, "Zut!"

Leliana took a moment to regain her composure before she set off again. She could remember all too clearly why she was setting off into these forgotten passageways, where darkspawn and certain death awaited. That reason was an elven woman with skin ivory fair, tousled silken locks that shone like spun gold, lithe and graceful as any dancer, smooth as silk, but a will strong as steel. Sephira... My love... Maker, please, please do not let me be too late...

She could still remember the day they first met. How Sephira had tried and nearly succeeded in convincing Loghain's men she and her companions were not Grey Wardens. How she'd slipped away to a place of concealment to fire at the men from cover. Her strong threats to their master as she sent them off. It was not merely Leliana's vision from the Maker- which she still stood by today, even in the face of ridicule from others and even her beloved- which made her long to follow Sephira. There was something about her, some electric magnetism that drew her in. That same charisma which could rob a miser of his coin, make a sinner of a saint was what made her fall in love.

Leliana remembered a hand on her shoulder by the fire, a comforting embrace following the confrontation with Marjolaine. The night when the blonde elf told her she still trusted her, even if no one else did. The night where the fire was not the source of the warmth spreading throughout her body. A night of soft, sweet kisses and tender caresses to flesh denied such pleasure in the Chantry. Zevran's leering eyes from afar- and how neither of them cared if he watched or not. The first night they made love.

She remembered a musical laugh, being teased for her jealousy upon hearing Sephira was due to be married before she left home. The romantic kiss as Sephira assured Leliana she was hers to the end. The conflict Sephira felt at having Alistair perform Morrigan's Dark Ritual. Whether or not Leliana agreed with the decision to have such a dread ritual performed, she was, in the end, thankful, for it had given her twenty years with her lover she otherwise would not have had.

The Deep Roads had gone suddenly, deafeningly, eerily silent. The Orlesian bard could no longer hear the footsteps of the darkspawn, the voices of the horde in the distance. Their foul stench, though still present, was nowhere near as prominent as it had been just moments prior. The absence of sensory information unnerved her far more than any monster she could encounter at this point.

She walked onward for what seemed an eternity, ever listening, ever vigilant. These winding halls of the Dead Trenches were silent and still, unlike the last time she'd been through here. The darkspawn here had either moved on, been killed, or worse, were pulling back to prepare an ambush. Finally, through the stillness of the tombs, she heard a lilting female voice speaking a sickeningly familiar rhyme.

"First day they come, and catch everyone..."

No... Maker, no! Leliana thought, hastening her footsteps.

"Second day they beat us, and eat some for meat..."

Hespith was long dead, and the voice was too high. Somewhere inside, Leliana feared she knew who spoke the rhyme, but she did not want to believe it.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again..."

She said in her letter she was going back to Denerim to say goodbye to her family in the Alienage... Did Soris and Shianni tag along after her? Leliana wondered, her alarm growing with the realization of the possibility. Her footsteps hastened again.

"Fourth day we wait, and fear for our fate..."

The voice was getting louder even as it cracked and broke. Leliana rounded one final corner, and saw what had become of her beloved Sephira. The wraith shambling across this mausoleum was not the woman she had seen two weeks prior. Her pale skin was no longer ethereal, but sallow. Her cheeks were sunken in, black shadows which bled into the splotches of corruption on her body lingering beneath her eyes. Her hair was choppy, uneven, patches of it had fallen out. Her eyes were clouded and dull, not the sharp, piercing grey she recalled them to be. Her whole body was skeletal, save for her stomach, which had swelled to such a degree it had stretched and shredded the clothes she wore.

"Sephira!" Leliana cried out, rushing to her lover's side, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Sephira, I'm here..."

The blonde elf turned her head towards the one addressing her, her face expressionless. "You...? No. Impossible. A vision of better times, sent to torment me, that's what you are... Fifth day they return, and it's another girl's turn..."

"Sephira, my love, it's me!" the bard shouted, tears pricking her eyes. She had both hands on her beloved's shoulders to hold her still. "What happened to you...?"

Sephira stared blindly into the eyes of the woman addressing her, murmuring, "Sixth day her screams we hear in our dreams... Shianni first, always Shianni first... the screams... the hellish shrieks... So many Shrieks..." She looked down towards the sickening mass of her stomach. "My turn soon... punishment for not bearing child before..."

Leliana shook her head, tears falling from her eyes. "No, my love, no. The Maker would not punish you like this... This is foul. Evil. Nothing divine caused this."

The bard knew what was soon to come for her beloved. She remembered the horrific creature they had seen when last they came down into these hellish trenches. Broodmother. Her expression hardened as she drew out her dagger. "It will not happen while I can stop it. I will not have you become something so foul. My love, forgive me..."

The only sound Sephira made as her life expired was a sharp intake of breath, which faded into a sickening gurgle as she collapsed. Leliana felt her heart sink that even in the end, not a single trace of her beloved could work itself to the surface. In those last moments, there was no real recognition, no thanks. Merely death and the Song as it faded to silence.