Amaryllis followed behind her sister, allowing a few feet's distance so as not to overwhelm her. Though the meeting had ended on a hopeful note, on Ellana's own promise to help, to do what she could to help them put an end to the disaster that was now the world they lived in, there was a tension to the way she carried herself. Amaryllis knew that one word out of her now might send her sister into a fury, so she stayed silent. Gave her space. Waited for Ellana to speak first.
She might have already had an inkling as to what would happen throughout the rest of the Inquisiton's story, but the thought of Ellana joining a war had Amaryllis pulling at her braid already, fumbling with her hair as she plaited it again and again. Following, still, as Ellana bypassed the cabin they had been staying in, and made for Haven's front gates. Following, still, as Ellana walked past the soldier's encampment and into the trees. She could feel their eyes following them, too. Following their Herald.
Herald. Would she ever get used to the title? Would it ever make sense that these people had claimed Ellana as their own? She would never be her own person again. She would always be watched. Looked up to. Treated as other, far more than ever before. Dalish, and a mage, and somehow, now the people's symbol of hope.
It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Though maybe it wasn't supposed to. Has war ever?
The more she thought about it, the more desperate she felt. Amaryllis hadn't been prepared for any of this. Her whole world had turned upside down, and not even for the first time.
Guilt speared her chest, and she hiccuped her next breath, biting into her bottom lip to fight back her tears. How selfish of her, to still be thinking of herself. Ellana hadn't been prepared for this. Ellana was the one with the mark, with the weight of Thedas on her shoulders, and yet Amaryllis was pitying herself? She had never known herself to be cruel, but she truly felt it, then, how cruel she had become, to be thinking of herself, first. How she had tried to make her selfishness seem right. She shouldn't have spent the night elsewhere. She should never have left Ellana's side.
If only Amaryllis had been the one at the Temple, then Ellana could have been spared these horrors.
Snow crunched beneath their boots. The winter air had grown so cold she could see her breath in front of her. Amaryllis could smell a blizzard brewing in the clouds over the horizon.
Suddenly, Ellana stopped amidst the towering evergreens and spun on her feet. Her chest rose and fell quickly. Her expression was panicked.
"Lis," her voice was thick with emotion. She whined, her lower lip trembling. Amaryllis rushed forward to take her in her arms. "I don't know what I'm doing, Lis, I don't know what I'm supposed to do, I don't–"
"I'm sorry." Amaryllis pulled her tight, placed a hand at the back of Ellana's head, and held her close, swaying side to side–an instinctual attempt to soothe. "I should have been there, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Ellana, you never should have faced that alone, I never should have let you go to the Temple, I should have–"
Her sister laughed through her sobbing. She took hold of Amaryllis's cloak, fisting her hands into it tightly. "Creators, Lis, you always do this. It's always about you."
Shame filled her veins like ice. Amaryllis was quick to let go, turning away from Ellana's gaze. This was Ellana's pain, not hers. She wasn't about to steal the moment.
"I'm sorry," she said again, sucking in a shaking breath. "I'm sorry, Ellana, I didn't mean to, truly, you know I don't–I would never–"
"Lis." Her sister's cheeks were ruddy, her face tear-streaked, but her gaze held no blame. No anger. She looked at her with love. "I know that, of course I know. You didn't do anything wrong. I hadn't meant it the way that it came out."
"Please, Ellana, don't excuse this, I know it was wrong. I don't mean to take the blame or to–to make it about myself. I only want you to know that I'm–" She turned away, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry."
For all of it. For knowing, but not realizing. For not being there. For not being the one to carry the weight on my own.
A touch to her wrist caused her to look back. Ellana smiled, tentatively, and so did Amaryllis.
"This must be too much for you," Amaryllis said. "Everything happened so fast."
Ellana nodded, then began to walk again. Amaryllis followed closer this time, choosing to walk beside her sister instead of behind her. When Ellana reached for her hand, she gladly took it. "I don't even know where to begin."
"Do you really not remember any of it? The Conclave?"
Her sister shook her head. A cold breeze blew her through the trees, pulling some of Ellana's hair from where she had piled it atop her head messily as if she had been in a rush, though it somehow looked regal. "I really don't. I'm not sure I want to."
Amaryllis grimaced. She couldn't blame her for that.
"I'm rather glad you don't," she admitted. "And that you were asleep for the worst of it."
"You were there, weren't you? Will you tell me about it?"
Images flashed before her, unbidden. The terror, all too fresh, all too real, still clawed at her throat. When she spoke, her voice was raw, as if it had been strangled out of her. "I will."
Ellana squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Only if you want to."
"As it involves you, I think you deserve to hear it." Amaryllis stopped and looked back toward the village, which had grown quite a bit smaller during their trek. A bit longer and they were likely to come across the exact spot they had camped in not a week before. She sniffled, scrunching her nose. Her face was growing numb. "Though I'd prefer to tell it somewhere warm, where I won't have to worry about my lips potentially falling off."
Ellana let go of her hand to snap her fingers, bringing a flame to life as if it required no more effort than that. It had Amaryllis immediately rolling her eyes and shoving away from her sister, who grinned shamelessly. "What's the problem? I can just light us a fire."
"You're horrible."
"Still jealous, wila?"
Amaryllis rolled her eyes. "Why would I be? It's not as if I don't carry my own talents."
Her sister hummed in agreement, then turned back toward Haven, bumping her shoulder against Amaryllis as she went. "Not much use in the cold though, are they?"
"Useful in summer," she grumbled, playfully sticking her tongue out as Ellana snickered. "Come on, take pity on your poor, useless sister. Put those stubby legs to good use."
"Stubby! You know I'm one of the tallest in our clan!"
"Yet still shorter than me."
It was Ellana's turn to roll her eyes, then. "You're adopted."
"What?" Amaryllis gasped. She clutched at her chest dramatically. "I can't believe–you've kept this from me our entire lives–how will I ever live with this totally new information?"
There was a light kick to her calf, causing her knee to buckle beneath her, and then she was sliding through a thick patch of ice, dragging her sister along with her. Lying on their backs in the snow, breathless, Amaryllis gazed up into the trees and laughed.
Their tea had grown cold by the time she was finished. Her throat ached. Their eyes had grown red-rimmed, surrounded by the deep purple of utter exhaustion, and Amaryllis was once again filled with such guilt. Everything would be different now. It already was.
And there would be no going back.
Ellana, resting her head against Amaryllis's shoulder, had fallen into a deep sleep. Something Amaryllis sorely needed, too.
They had argued, in the end. Ellana wanted Amaryllis to go home, to give word to Deshanna, personally. It would be safer for her, away from this mess. It would help her to know, too, that Amaryllis would be there to protect the clan if the time came. If whoever had done this to her might want to bring harm to them, too. They knew so little about what was happening–it made sense, Ellana's fear. Amaryllis felt it too. Had lived it daily since the sky had torn asunder.
But nothing, not even her love for their family, would allow her to leave Ellana's side now.
Gently, she slid out from beneath Ellana, laying her atop the bedspread. She went without a fuss, shifting only to cuddle deeper into the pillows.
Amaryllis walked barefoot across the cold stone floor to the desk, where someone–she assumed the servant from earlier–had laid out bundles of new parchment, a few fountain pens, and bottles of ink. Uncapping the ink, she fumbled with the pen, turning it around and checking out the mechanism until she assured herself she could make it work. Only after spilling a bit of the ink, first.
Setting the tip to paper, she ran her other hand over the end of her braid and began to write.
Amelan Deshanna, I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to send this letter. So much has happened since we arrived at Haven. I wish I were writing under better circumstances.
Before you make any assumptions, amelan, please know that your sael and I are alive and well. But you must also know that Ellana and I will not be returning home any time soon. Or within the foreseeable future.
The shemlen here are… not what I had expected. I have met some very wonderful, kind people. And some who are not so trusting, though I do not blame them in the least.
I'm not entirely sure how much I can tell you, or how much you will have already learned by the time this letter reaches you. But please, please rest assured–Ellana is safe, and I will keep her that way, no matter what it takes. I will say it a thousand times if that's what it takes to calm your worry. This Inquisition will do their best to protect her as well, I'm sure. They need her.
The Conclave did not go well. A lot of people are gone–the most important, it seems, was the Divine. The shemlen mourn her death. They lash out at the things they do not understand, but I can't say I blame them. None of this makes any sense.
There is so much to tell you, and only so much ink in the world. Just know that I miss you so, amelan. I look forward to the day we will see you again.
Sule tael tasalal,
Amaryllis
P.S. Please let me know if everyone is doing well. Faelyn has given birth by now, yes? Please tell her I'm sorry I wasn't there to help and if she has not named the babe after me because of it, I will forgive her, but only if she will forgive me, too.