9:41 Dragon

In the last 4 years or so, Lydia's been overworking herself. She's personally gone on all scouting and hunting expeditions, if her condition allowed it, sometimes leaving the camp too soon, with wounds still not fully healed.

It wasn't that she didn't understand and accept her role within the clan. She was now officially the Hahren and Taeriel's wife (as hilarious as she thought it sounded, she couldn't help feeling dread from it). The term 'marriage', not the concept, was something her clan picked up from shems. Through the vows they spoke, the two elves would swear eternal love and respect, and then proceed on to making babies. Ugh, I think I just puked a bit inside, she thought. Luckily, she's been stalling those vows for a while now, because of the tradition that happenes on the night of the bond.

Taeriel wasn't ugly and didn't treat her with disrespect. Actually, he'd started being nicer with her since she received her vallaslin, but his constant attention made things worse. They grew up together, studied together and were somehow siblings, even if they're not related by blood, and thinking of him as more was just… wrong.

Lydia can't claim that Deshanna alone raised her. The clan did. The halla keeper, the war-master, the craftsman, the hearthkeeper– they've all participated in raising her and sharing their knowledge with her. So every other child and young adult were brothers and siblings to her. Maybe that's why every attempt of hers for romance felt wrong. And maybe that's why they adopted the 'marriage' term, so that they wouldn't just be mates to one another like animals. A bond felt like it could be any kind of relationship. What, a friendship isn't a bond between two people?

Some thoughts I'm having.

It wasn't that she didn't try to develop something more with a few of the other men in the clan. But she couldn't shake the feeling, and always felt that if she made a decision in this matter it would be sealed for good, even if the fondness would be temporary and she'd change her mind later. Which is why she's been stalling.

Maybe she'll fall in love with someone.

Maybe she won't have to have the kids with someone she would proudly call brother.

But nothing changed during these 4 years. In fact, it was getting worse.

She clearly remembered the smile of one human man who came trading, and left the camp too soon. She was so conflicted at the warmth she felt seeing his smile, or the uneasy fragility her legs would suddenly gain when around them.

Once, one such young merchant, on their way to the camp, asked her name – probably only to be polite and fill in the awkward silence. The way her heart went pounding insanely then made her feel so ashamed, she couldn't blurt out anything and just stared at him. As soon as they got the camp, she hid in her tent.

One of the things the clan hated most were human-elf relationships. Since the child of such a couple would always be human, the elder members of the clan spoke of this forbidden act more than any other. And since their clan openly traded with humans, they interacted with them more than other Dalish, so preventions needed to be in place. Creators forbid for an elf girl to be swept of her feet by a mysterious, handsome human traveller with arms soo big…

'Lydia!' snapped Tara next to her, ruining her trail of thought. It felt like it wasn't her first attempt at getting Lydia's attention. Tara eyed her carefully before giving that all-knowing smirk of hers. Whilst Taeriel was the annoying older brother, Tara was the sister she could speak with about anything, freely. They were nearly the same age - Tara being born shortly after the clan rescued Lydia. She was one of the heartkeeper's apprentices, a healer who used potions and herbs to fix people.

'The Keeper called a meeting with the elders, thought you should know' she whispers, turning suddenly towards the edge of the camp where the largest tent was set. It was where Deshanna would meet with the eldest members of the clan and would discuss important matters with them. And if Keeper Deshanna needed advice, then it was serious.

Lydia always took advantage of such meetings, listening in case they ever decided to speak about her or, in case her destiny really is inevitable, at least learn a thing or two. She would pace around the campsite until they all began discussing, and then hide in the trees to eaves drop. It was rude, sure, but what if it was a life-threatening situation to be discussed?

Like now.

'What is the meaning of this, Deshanna?' one of the eldest men spoke. He was the old Keeper's father, aged beyond recognition after the death of his son and wife. He was once a Keeper too, and is considered the wisest, albeit the most inapt and sometimes forgetful, of all the Lavellans. Lydia couldn't remember his name.

'I assure you, it is urgent. A decision must be made, one that could influence our relationship with the other clans.'

The others nodded, and spoke quietly to each other. For all their wisdom, the elders hardly spoke loud and mostly just voiced their opinions without being able to actually hear what others thought. Not all of them were this old, but these one particularly spoke the most.

Deshanna spoke loudly for them, which helped Lydia make out all her words perfectly. 'As you all well know, we were denied the last Arlathvenn because of our continuous trading with human cities, even after…' her voice died down, and all of them were silent. She clears her throat. 'The others think we are losing our touch with our people, that we aren't dedicated enough! But we live for the people and our traditions, and our compromise keeps us safe.

'I have an opportunity that could prove our dedication to the Dalish, the other clans. As you have noticed, as of late, the number of mages has increased, across all clans.'

She was right, Lydia thought. After she got her vallaslin, at least three more children developed magic until today, and whilst the clan struggled before to keep magic in the line of the Keeper, now ordinary parents had unexpected mage children. It became Deshanna's greatest stress as of late. The Lavellans sometimes interacted with shemlen Templars, selling staffs and weapons to the order. But also three years ago a conflict between mages of the Circle and the Templars started, and more and more visited the clan for weapons and supplies. You couldn't exactly say no to them.

'And besides all this, more and more Templars and Circle mages that stumble upon us beg for our help, our aid. We owe them nothing. But I fear the repercussions.

'There are rumours of a Conclave invoked by the shem's Divine to end this conflict, which has been keeping me up at night. But if things go in the favour of the Templars, we must know how to act with our children before it's too late.'

The silence is deadly. Lydia tries to shift on her branch but she can't move without being heard.

'I propose we send someone to this meeting. Someone capable, who will learn the outcome of these peace negociations and return with the news, so that when the decision is enacted, we aren't taken by surprize.' She adds with a grave voice: 'Our children will not be stolen from us. I will not allow the Templars to drag our mage-born children to their shemlen towers where they will suffer. At least three younglings depend on this outcome, and who knows how many more will manifest magic in the years to come. The world seems upside down, but we need to take action to protect ourselves.'

'Where do you know this from, Keeper?' asked the Hearthkeeper, a gentle woman whose voice Lydia would recognize anywhere.

'A traveller had stopped by yesterday. She bought a halla horn, and in exchange offered me this knowledge.'

The reaction of the others was odd. They seemed repulsed by the idea, and a lot of voices started speaking on top of one another, and it was difficult to make out anything anymore. Then, the strong voice of the war-master rang: 'A traveller? Keeper, you trust a traveller with the fate of one of own?'

'For what it's worth, I believe in this old woman.'

'For what it's worth?! Deshanna, a human stranger exchanged knowledge for a halla horn and you act as if it's normal? Since when do we listen to 'rumours' or exchange our sacred halla's horns for them?'

'She was no ordinary woman, Fennas. Her words bore great wisdom, no ordinary human speaks like her.'

Whatever that meant made everyone suddenly shut up. The young elf was definitely confused now. She'd spied on these meetings before, but never before could she not make sense of the topic of conversation like now.

'The question is not whether she is to be trusted or not, but who should we send.' Silence. 'The Conclave will take place within the Frostback Mountains' – 'You mean in Ferelden?' – 'Yes Harea, nearby a village named Haven, there is a temple - ' – 'I've heard of this shem temple for their false prophet's ashes, Keeper' – 'Fennas, allow me to finish.'

Then, out of the sudden, a voice she didn't expect to her. 'Who do you suggest, mother?' Taeriel's question felt out of place. A child amongst adults.

Deshanna continued her explanations. 'There are three options. We may send an official, diplomatic agent, such as Taeriel, my First. But the shems may not want to have one of our own present. Or we may send Fennas. In case things get difficult, he can fight his way out of the situations and return to us in one piece. Or send him with a team.

'But there's a third option, which would be the safest, yet most dangerous one. We send a spy, someone disguised as a servant who will sneak inside the temple. But since we don't know anything about the temple –'

That's all Lydia needed to know. She hopped out of the tree and left the tent filled with arguments and questions behind, pondering to herself. All the others in the camp were in their tents or aravels, and she alone watched the full moon shine through the thick clouds.

The next day, Deshanna grabbed her portion of dried fruits and cold halla milk and sat near the died-down campfire. The sun was barely rising and the cold of the night still kept everything moist, but the soft lights of a dying fire could still be seen in the embers. She knew she should expect the young hunter to show up at any time, but Lydia was there as soon as she sat of the tree log. This wasn't what she was expecting, or hoping. She just wanted to have her meal in peace…

'I must go.' is all she said. Anyone else would have asked her, What, now? Where are you going?, but Deshanna was no stranger to Lydia's 'secret' peekings of their meetings. It's not like she was actually trying to hide anything. The others in the clan knew not to involve themselves in something that doesn't concern them, not like Lydia.

'You know I'm good at this Keeper. I can hunt, I can move slowly and quietly. I will swift through the Free Marches and Ferelden and get to the temple without anyone even realising.' She spoke with a conviction that made Deshanna proud. 'I will disguise myself as a servant and – and I'll be out of there before they know it.

'If I go now I have time to learn the structure of the building, find entrances and exits and-'

'Da'len, calm down.' Deshanna's sigh was heavy. She really hoped not to have this conversation after a sleepless night and before she even got the chance to eat. But she wasn't the only one who went through a white night. Lydia must have been waiting for the chance to speak with her.

'Please, Keeper, you said it yourself, a decision must be made, quickly. You want me to protect our people. What better way than to protect our mages and their families? Or should you let them capture or kill your son or let a bunch of elf-hating shems kill Fennas? He's still just one person. You need a shadow, in an out, a hunter with patience who hunts for information.' Her eyes were red, she must have read or written all night, then. Maybe she rehearsed this text until it was all she could hear, keeping each word where she's written it. Her lithe body was shaking from the cold of the morning but didn't let her voice falter. 'I can read and write in the common tongue, I know more about shems than Fennas or Taeriel, and I'm an excellent shot. My arrow never goes stray, my leg never slips, my hand never hesitates. Please.'

She's fallen to her knees, burning the Keeper with her gaze. She wants to sacrifice herself by going into unknown territory. She obviously didn't listen to the entire debate then, doesn't know Deshanna reconsidered and thought it was too dangerous to send anyone at all. But Lydia isn't asking the chance to do something dangerous. She wants to leave the clan. And it's breaking Deshanna's heart.

But she must remain strong. She must not falter.

'No. I will loose no one to another's fight, we keep to ourselves and prepare for the worst.'

Instead of desperation, Lydia's gaze is replaced by anger and determination. She had this part prepared as well. 'If you won't allow it, I'll leave anyway. And I will return, have no doubts. This is my family, Keeper, and for family I will take the Vir Banal'ras if I must.'

Vir Banal'ras - the "Way of Shadow." Assuming it when a debt of blood must be repaid, such hunters dedicate themselves to vengeance and nothing else. But what debt of blood? Where did she learn of this? Dalish assassins were a rumour even to Deshanna, who believed this dark path abandoned. And for a second she felt that Lydia not only carried the hatred of the clan for the death of the hahren and her lover, but also the future hate for the loss of the mage children, or the clan itself. No, I must not allow her to go astray.

'Da'len, that path is not for you to follow' she says quietly. 'If you wish to hide in the shadows and hunt our animal prey from afar, very well, but we are at peace, at least for now. Allow me time, Lydia, to think. You need to think it other. And sleep.'

Lydia didn't want to use the Way of Shadow argument, but she knows the Keeper will give anything to keep her pure. 'It's her fault', she thinks, 'she's the one who painted the Goddess' of vengence vallaslin on my skin.'

After two days of isolation and internal struggle on both sides, the Keeper finally gives in. She must hold the hope that her beloved daughter with a golden heart will return and will not let the shemlen's ways poison it. She kisses the hunter's forehead and gives her all any necessary equipment, supplies, maps of the Free Marches, or Ferelden and the Frostback Mountains, as much as she's acquired, coins and encouragement. She hopes they are enough to protect her and bring her back to her family.

Tara holds her in a tight embrace for so long, it feels never-ending. Even Taeriel embraces her as a brother, maybe thanking her for what she's doing and for saving them both from a bond they didn't really want.

With a heavy heart the Keeper watches young Lydia leave the clan behind.

But the Asha'bellanar is never wrong. She's never wrong…

Imagine my surprise when I sneak inside the Temple of Sacred Ashes and then I find myself tied down, threatened by shemlen, with no memories of where I was, or - or what I was doing and why does my hand hurt so much…

My name is Lydia Lavellan. And I must have made some big mistake…