"Those are the voices of my brothers, darling; I love the company of wolves."
― Angela Carter, Burning Your Boats: The Collected Short Stories
The first light snowfall had finally begun to fall, and still the Sabrae clan was in the Frostbacks. They had been set back nearly a month because of a broken aravel wheel, and one of the halla had grown too old to walk.
Melia felt she could no longer feel the sorrow to mourn for her beloved halla properly, for too many things had been on her mind as of late. Nearly every night she had been drawn, by some unnatural will of hers, to Jean's camp. The first week had been blissful, and Melia had the illusions to think she might have been in her own fairy tale love story.
But something had grown in the back of her mind, a black mass of doubt and anxiety. She felt she was no longer in control of her actions, that each time her feet carried her to Jean's campsite, it was by no will of her own.
There she sat, on the limb of the willow tree once more. This time the gentle snowflakes flying around her as if trying to ease her sorrows. But all she felt was the need to sleep.
Then there were the dreams. The past few weeks Melia had dreamt the same dream each night. That the pregnant halla had come again, this time with her calf in tow. It had been unlike any calf she had seen, for it's eyes were bright blue, and there was a black streak right across its sweet face.
Melia hugged herself, feeling the urge to vomit. She was naturally a superstitious woman, and her dreams had done nothing to ease her busy mind.
A warm wave fell over her body, and she felt it was time to go back to Jean's camp once more.
She got up, mindlessly walking through the fallen snow. She didn't want to go, Creators know she didn't, but she felt as if she had no choice. Her body really wasn't hers when she was there.
More than anything she just wanted to lie down and sleep. The closer she got to the camp, and seeing the light of the campfire, Melia felt as if she were going to be sick again.
She saw Jean by the fire. Once she entered the perimeter of the camp she had the overwhelming urge to run to him.
"Hello, mon amour." He said to her, his voice making her spine tingle. He went over to kiss her lips.
"Andaran atishan, emma lath." Melia said automatically.
What was she saying? Love? Melia thought to herself that this was not love, and yet she still said it.
Jean pulled her closer to him, then turned her to face the fire. He bent down to kiss her neck.
"I've missed you." He said.
"I have seen you twice a day this last week." Melia said.
Jean's grip hardened on her hips, "I am a very greedy man."
"My cousin is becoming suspicious," Melia said, "Perhaps one night away would help?"
"I would not give you up so easily." Jean said, "Let them all be suspicious…"
"It is not wise…" Melia started.
"And who are you to know what's wise?" Jean said before kissing her neck once more, "I will tell you when to leave." Then he added, "But my hopes are that we are to leave together."
Melia froze, "What?"
Jean forcefully turned her back around, "Do you not see how much I care for you?" He caressed her cheek, "How much I love you?"
Melia felt herself on the verge of tears, she wanted to scream, to say she wanted to leave. But the red look in Jean's made her sheepishly answer.
"I do see. And I feel the same way." She held back her sobs.
"Good." Jean said, "Tomorrow night then? Tomorrow I will pack up my camp. And you will meet me here. We will travel Ferelden for a time, together."
"Together…" Melia said weakly.
"We will leave for Denerim, I have a few contacts there that can arrange accommodations for us. Especially if we go as man and wife."
"Wife…"
"Of course. Our love should be more than just random fucking from time to time. I want you to myself. My one and only." Jean kissed her again, "Marry me, Melia."
The hand pressed hard against her throat had made her answer quickly.
"Yes." She said.
"Good." Jean moved his hand and kissed where an old bruise was, "Now let's go into the tent…" He grabbed her ass, "To celebrate."
"Perhaps we should wait," Melia suggested, thinking quickly, "If you truly want to marry me, then would the anticipation alone not be enough?"
Jean thought for a moment, "As you wish." He said almost begrudgingly, "Anticipation alone can be quite thrilling. And I should like to fuck you as much as I want as your husband anyway."
"Exactly." Melia readily agreed, "I will need to go home and gather my things. I should take my time so my family does not raise a sudden question."
"If you would like," Jean said, "Go then. And I shall wait." He kissed her jaw, "But I should like to make love to you again."
"Soon enough." Melia assured him.
"You're right," Jean cupped her ass again, "But hurry."
"Of course." Melia said, finally ridding herself of Jean's embrace, "I will."
Melia hurried away before Jean changed his mind.
Walking back through the trees, Melia found herself back at the willow tree she had come to love so much. She went under the leaves, finally breathing.
Finally she bent over and vomited. She had never felt this sick before. She felt as if she had been under the willow for hours, puking up the small amount of food she had in her stomach and then some.
Her whole body shook, and she was now hunched over by the trunk. She nearly screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
She whipped around, seeing the bright emerald eyes of Thackery. Even in the dark she could see him perfectly, and his concerned look did nothing to soothe her.
"Are you alright, old mum?" He asked her.
Melia smiled weakly, "You are so sweet to me, lethallin." She said..
"You're sick…" Thackery started to say, bending over to hold her.
"No…" Melia started, her doe-like eyes watering as she looked up at her cousin.
"Thackery, I'm pregnant."
"No one else is to know, understand?" Ashalle asked, "I will speak to the Keeper, but nothing else is to leave this aravel."
A small group of people had set up in her aravel. They all agreed to Ashalle's terms.
Melia had been holding Ashalles hand, looking extremely pale. Thackery, Fenarel, and Tamlen were the only other ones that were now privy to this news.
"We should kill him." Thackery suggested, swirling his dagger into the wood of his small table.
"I agree." Fenarel said.
"No." Melia shot at them.
"Fenedhis, Melia'nain." Thackery snarled, "This man...he…"
Thackery couldn't bring himself to say rape. His throat closed up and his breathing became hard. Fenarel held him close.
"Melia'nain is right," Ashalle said, "I am not very worldly, but I know when there is the possibility of what the shems call blood magic. Melia said he was a mage, and I would not risk any of you to whatever he is capable of."
"I don't have to listen to this." Thackery got up and walked out, Fenarel followed him to try and console his lover.
Tamlen had been quiet so far. He kept glancing up at Melia, but didn't know what to say.
"Mammae, I'm sorry." Melia said.
"Melia'nain Hebe Mahariel...never be sorry for something like this," Ashalle said, getting up out of her chair, "I have to talk to Marethari. She will know what to do. Get some rest, da'len." She kissed Melia's forehead.
It had been a long while after Ashalle had left that Tamlen finally spoke up.
"I'm sorry." He said quietly.
"What? Why?" Melia asked.
Tamlen looked up at her, pale eyes brimming with guilt, "I should have done something."
"About what?"
"Protecting you...I should have extended my patrol. Looked for you harder…" Tamlen said, "I will never forgive myself. And for a shem..." He said the last word with disgust.
"I do not need to be protected like some weakling." Melia snapped, "And please, Tamlen, I do not wish for you to punish my...my child…" Her voice cracked. She avoided Tamlen's gaze, instead looking at her hands. She had been absently pulling on her own fingers.
Tamlen sighed. Slowly her got up and walked over to where she was sitting. He got to his knees, gently setting his strong and calloused hands on her stomach.
"Melia'nain Mahariel," He started, "I'm-"
"Tamlen…"
"Please, Mel," Tamlen said, "I need to tell you this. We have not always gotten along. And I know this past month has been hard for you. But...I want you to know that I will always be there. And should you wish it, you need not ever have to tell the clan who this child's real father is…"
"What do you mean?"
"If it would not shame you, I will be the father to your baby. I will not ask to bond with you, but I do want to raise your child as my own. With you…"
"You do not know what you ask."
"Mel," Tamlen whispered, looking up at her, taking her cold hand and holding it to his cheek, "Can you honestly tell me you haven't felt anything...for me?"
Melia's mind raced. Her clouded thoughts that Jean had seeped into her were slightly shattered. She remembered back to the occasional glances, the hand touching, stolen kisses on moonlit patrols. Melia's head started to swim as flashes of memory began to creep back in.
"Has he poisoned you so that you can no longer recall my professions?" Tamlen asked.
Melia tried her best to remember, "I think…"
"It's alright," Tamlen said, pushing the hair away from Melia's face, "I shouldn't trouble you with all of this. You've dealt with enough."
He stood up and held out his hand to Melia.
"You should rest." He said.
Tamlen helped Melia up from her chair, knowing she was shaking with anxiety and exhaustion. He helped to lay her down, his soft kiss just barely brushing her forehead.
"I will call upon you in the morning, yes?" Tamlen asked.
"Of course." Melia nodded, her body felt heavy, and her lids drooped.
Melia had fallen asleep before Tamlen had a chance to say good night. His gentle smile turned into a deep frown. His brows furrowed and he stepped out of the aravel.
Turning, he could see Fenarel trying to keep Thackery calm. Tamlen took up his sword that had been set up against the aravel, and he sheathed it in his carved scabbard. Then he picked up Thackery's curved obsidian daggers and walked over to him.
Thackery had been spewing vulgarities when he saw Tamlen coming with his daggers. His ears perked up and he stopped pacing.
"Is Ashalle with the Keeper?" Tamlen asked.
"Yes." Fenarel answered, warily eyeing Tamlen and taking notice that he was armed.
Tamlen looked right at Thackery, "How do you feel about killing a shem?"
A wide and cruel smile grew on Thackery's face as he was handed his daggers.
"Lethallin...I think I feel just fine."
Thackery brushed his fingers over the wolfshead carving on his free dagger. He sat up in a high tree, watching.
There was no moon, but the orange lights that burst up from the campfire below revealed that Thackery had smeared black paint around his eyes and down his cheeks.
Fenarel called from another tree, mimicking the call of a great horned owl.
Thackery looked down and saw that Jean had returned to his camp, having just finished shaving by the creek. In the shadows he saw Tamlen creeping towards Jean's tent, three slashes of red paint across his face.
Fenarel was at the ready with his bow and arrow, being careful not to aim for a kill shot.
Thackery watched Tamlen as he creeped up behind Jean. His heart raced with anticipation, his blood running like fire through his veins. Thackery's pupils dilated when Tamlen raised his sword to hit Jean over the head.
His whole body chilled when Jean turned to face Tamlen. He raised his hand and Tamlen froze in place. Thackery furrowed his brow when he saw drops of blood falling from Jean's raised hand.
"It's terrible manners to strike a man while his back is turned." Jean said, he tsked, "What am I to do?"
Fenarel was about to take a shot at Jean, but Thackery stopped him, not wanting to risk any harm to Tamlen. Instead, Thackery pounced from his branch, landing softly on the dirt between Jean and the fire. He raised a single dagger to Jean.
"Let him go." He said, his voice unfaltering.
Jean sighed, "You Dalish know nothing about the magic's outside of your people. One false move and he will shatter into tiny pieces." He turned to Thackery, his hand still raised to keep Tamlen at bay, "You're the one I met in the glen. Melia mentioned you a few times. Hard to believe you're related."
Thackery snarled when Jean mentioned Melia, and it made the Orlesian smile.
"Is that what this is about?" Jean asked, "If you must know, she always came to me willingly. And when she spread her beautiful legs so I could fuck her, she did it with a smile on her face and a whorish moan-"
Thackery screamed, lunging at Jean with his dagger aimed at his throat. Jean nearly lost concentration on his spell when Thackery barrelled into him. Tamlens hold fell away when Thackery beat on Jean's face with his fists with merciless intent. He cried and screamed as he threw each punch.
Jean then lifted up his hand, took Thackerys remaining sheathed dagger and slashed him in the face.
Thackery held his face and cried out in pain, falling off of Jean. Before Jean could kick him in the stomach. Tamlen swung his sword, hitting Jean in the side.
From the trees, Fenarel took aim and shot at the mage, finally hitting him in the foot to pin him to the ground. Thackery jumped back up, his entire right side of his face bleeding profusely. Thackery felt no pain as he charged for Jean.
Thackery was frozen in place just before his dagger was plunged into Jean's eye.
Keeper Marethari walked into the camp, her eyes blazing with anger. Ashalle rushed forward to pull Thackery away.
"I am ashamed that this is how my clan's children would react to a crime against our people." Marethari spoke, "We are not like our sister tribes."
Ashalle held a bleeding Thackery back as Marethari took Jean's face in her hand.
"The shemlen would see you executed for your crimes of blood magic," She spat, "Indeed I have a punishment truly worthy for the shem who defiled a beloved daughter of The People."
A group of hunters came forth from the woods bearing copious amounts of rope. Jean's hands were tied together, and he was held while the Keeper looked at Ashalle.
"Are you sure?"
Ashalle gave one cold nod and the hunters dragged Jean away. Thackery shook Ashalle off of him and followed.
Finally they came upon the opening where Thackery has first encountered Jean. There was a large boulder in the middle. A few hunters restrained Jean to the boulder. Finally when he could no longer make use of his hands, the Keeper walked to him.
"For your crimes against The People, I, Keeper Marethari of clan Sabrae, sentence you to death. To have a quick beheading is not fit for a man like you. So instead you shall seek the punishment of the gods." She looked to the trees, "It is said the wolves grow hungrier the closer you are to the mountains." She then added, her face growing dark, "Fen'Harel ma halam."
A long and sorrowful howl could be heard in the dark. It was chorused by another howl, and then another.
The Keeper turned away, and her hunters followed.
Thackery turned around, his right eye soaked with pouring blood.
He saw the flickering of yellow eyes prowl forth from the treeline. His skin crawled when he heard the snapping of sharp white teeth, and the wet tongues of wolves lolling out at the sight of their offering.
Thackery turned away with a grin and didn't look back.