Chapter Text
Chapter 01 – Engrams
Soulsisters
Kirkwall – Drakonis, 9:08 Dragon
A crumpled letter which seems to have been carefully smoothed and refolded sits inside a small jewelry box, together with a fancy empty flask of Orlesian perfume and half dozen other folded letters, all bearing the same handwriting.
Dear Revka,
First of all you are my cousin, and I love you. I never meant to sound offensive in that sense. I was off guard when Gamlen told me about you and… the elf. I know that Malcolm could bring magic into the family, but still, to mix our blood with that of the elves is… I can almost understand Damion’s distrust and intense reaction. I mean, I do not approve of his harshness, but… Brothers will be brothers, they will try to look after us, like little girls, even both of us being the eldest; it is within their male nature. But you are more than just my dear cousin: you are my best friend, my chosen sister and despite how much we have hurt each other last time we spoke, I care for you. I know how you feel about me being with an apostate , and all the curse it can bring onto the Amells, and… You know how I feel about you being with… with that Antivan, well, an elf , and all it entails to our bloodline. We both said it clear and loud, but I want -I need- it all to be behind us. You are my family, my blood, the sister I have never had…
I wanted you to be the first to know: I am with child now. Regardless of what you may think of Malcolm, this child is first and foremost an Amell, like me, like you. I wish we were both together now, like we always said we would when we used to daydream about becoming mothers at grandpa Dernal’s house. If I close my eyes long enough, I can see the both of us waiting until our fathers were off hunting so we could sneak off to the orchard to do our “adult girl talks”. Do you remember how we used to swoon over the de Carrac twins during our family spring soirée? Oh, I miss you, Rev! And I know you miss me too. Regardless of the ways life may do us apart, you will always be my dearest cousin, my play-pretend sister. So let’s set our differences behind us. Maybe I can convince mother and father to have me at the state for a visit after the baby is born. I am sure a little one will have them wrapped around in no time. Meanwhile, please be well, Rev.
Love you, cousin.
Lea
Family I
Lothering – Wintermarch, 9:10 Dragon
The last lines… A deep hard breath, as if to inhale some understanding, her eyes closed for a moment, a long blink to digest the news. Steps on the hallway, tired familiar paces. Her eyes deviated from the parchment as she folded the letter carefully, as if not to offend it, her fingers caressing the piece as she curled herself in the fur tightening it around her shoulders, waiting for Malcolm to join her. A kind smile to receive him, her eyes glinting, the firewood illuminating her soft expression as she looked at him. She greeted him with a small smile and a heavy silence.
“Love” he beckoned in a calm voice, approaching her, still dusting the snow off his beard before he bent over to drop a gentle kiss on her lips. “Is the baby asleep?” he continued, waddling himself close to her, setting his arm around her shoulders.
Leandra lugged herself away to give her husband room, nestling her head onto his shoulder. “I nursed him not long ago, he’s just fallen asleep” she informed him in a placid tone, lowering her eyes to the letter in her hands. “I received news from Revka” she stated, her voice slightly lower as she continued “her child was born early Haring, a little girl”. A small pause, Malcolm's hand mildly compressing her shoulder in reassurance “she… the elf has abandoned her and the girl. Gamlen and Damion are set to…” Another pause, her eyes sparkling wet as she tried to seem composed.
He lowered his head, as to encourage his wife, touching her chin to direct her eyes to his. “But she won’t, will she?” he asked in an effort not to sound accusative “after all, it was her choice to keep this child even when her man so openly said he never wanted it”. An ounce of rage crawled inside him, suppressed in his tone, still warming his face.
“No! Of course she won’t. But there aren’t many choices… If we… I think maybe… Maybe we...” Leandra’s voice faltered, the sentence contained behind her lips as she consciously tried to ascertain Malcolm's expression. “She has always been like a sister to me, we grew up together, and the girl still is, somehow…”
He cupped her face with both hands now, interrupting the woman. “Love” Malcolm's voice acknowledged in a temperate tone. “This could work out... Your cousin could keep you company should I need to stay away long, you’d be with family, and I’m sure Alexander will like to have a cousin to grow up with, just like you did” he concluded serene and mellow, not a hint of doubt in his expression.
Leandra lifted her gaze allowing her expression to give away her consternation “When she met him, I could only wish she would be as happy as I was with you” she avowed, her face lit up as a fine smile dawned on her lips “the Guardian month brings good omens after all. I will send word; she can travel during summer and be here before Solace”
Clothesline
Lothering – August, 9:10 Dragon
With one swift whip Revka straightened the large sheet onto the air, drizzling her face with droplets as she tossed the piece of wet fabric over the tense line, “...I still can’t believe she just took off without a nod. I mean, we both knew the woman was a harlot, but I would half expected her to stay longer to lick all fat from the bones…” she continued her comment, out loud and honest voices since any gossip monger eavesdropping couldn’t make out a word in Kirkwallian.
“In all honesty I feel awful for, at least in part, thinking Gamlen deserved it. Not that I wish ill on my own brother, but so much he thought Malcolm would just desert me and now his woman was the one to vanish on him” Leandra said in a salty voice, half-ashamed and half-satisfied at the sound of her own words, resting the washing bat on her hips, allowing herself a break from spanking the clothes, using the rim of her apron to dry the sweat off her face.
“Do you think he will try to chase her?” Revka’s voice was glazed in curiosity, her eyes diverging from the bucket of clothes waiting to be wrung to her cousin.
“Oh, I wouldn’t put it past him. Not that he will do so openly, but he will want to find her out, I’m dead sure! If I were to bet, I’d say we could expect a visit from him. That strumpet’s Fereldan, he said, so he will want to snoop around” she replied in an amused tone, resting her arm on the posser, feeling tired by the afternoon heat “why did we put so much ash on this clothes, almost two days soaking and I can’t beat the dirt out of them…” she complained, more to herself than to Rekva, stretching her back, still feeling sore and bothered by the labour.
Ignoring her cousin’s complaints Revka kept on her chores, firm and diligent, almost if she felt proud of forcing the water to leave the fabric, accomplished with the sense of authority, imposing tidiness, soothing her mind to focus on the juicy conversation. “Fereldan? Mara is such a Marcher name… What was she doing in Kirkwall?”
“Fereldan! All made of mud and dog hair that one!” Leandra replied, refreshed and revived by the other’s interest. “I poked Gamlen here and there, but he didn’t quite say anything, but I think she moved there as a girl, with family. A family Gamlen never actually got to lay eyes on, so we can already imagine what kind…” she added, seeding some thoughts she had had for a time, as she observed the clothesline becoming heavier.
Pseudo
Lothering –Haring, 9:12 Dragon
A carefully folded letter sits inside a book, awaiting to be sent, pressed between white rose petals so it can soak its perfume. The writing is precise and clear, in a beautiful calligraphy without a single misshapen, as if copied out of a previous scrap.
Malcolm,
I hate to have to do this again, but I need you to come home. I know you said you needed to stay three more weeks in Denerin and I know coming and going back and forth is dangerous and expensive, but I am feeling ill again. This is not common pregnancy morning sickness, I feel liable to turn myself inside out at the slightest smell! I can’t barely eat anymore because any food odour makes me wretch and heave. Rev has tried every tea and soup and meal you can possibly think of and I am still getting worse and worse each day. I looked at myself in the mirror today and I felt scared; my face is gaunt, robbed of colour, the only volume I still have in my swollen belly. You can’t leave me like this! I need you here, to take care of me, this is also your child, Malcolm.
I think perhaps my illness is not related to this pregnancy, but to your absence. I know you think with Rev by my side I have mastered being alone, but this is not true. How do you expect me to get used, to understand that you must be away all the time? I feel like my heart becomes a cold fire every time you are gone for too long. I am tired of lying in a bed, sick and ill, getting heavy with your child while you are about in these mercenary jobs. Sometimes it becomes very hard for me to believe this is not just adventuring when you know too well I could reach out to my family for support. They might have loathed me for leaving with you, but my child, now my children, they are still Amells. If only you wouldn’t put my well-being above your pride.
At least once I need to know where your heart and priorities lie.
Forever yours,
Lea
Ciao
Lothering – Solace, 9:13 Dragon
Her hand swiped over the crocheted napkin before placing the tea cup atop of it; with a gentle push Revka neared the tray to Leandra, finally sitting beside her. A long solemn silence occupied the room instead of the usual chatter between the two of them; the silence before the storm until Leandra began sobbing again. Revka softly accompanies the cry in wet eyes without shedding, the absence of words protecting both their feelings like a shared blanket.
Malcolm cracked the door slightly open, peaking inside at the two mourning women, but remained outside. Outside like he had always felt when it came to the Amells. Despite never having wished any misfortune on them he was guilty of not feeling touched by their deaths. He had never really exchanged any words with Bethann and if anything of Aristide he could remember only threats and curses ever being directed at him, but the real reason why he could find a place in his heart for grief was not himself, but Leandra. Her suffering during the last months had scarred him like no templar whip ever could. He watched his heavily pregnant wife jiggle guilt and anxiety since the news of her parent’s sickness arrived.
He knew many people were perishing with the cholera bouts spreading like wild summer fire in the Marches, but how many of those poor sods could have had a healer shove away their ailment? No, they were not taken by the Blue Death, they were killed by their own pride, by fear of a Maker who didn't free them from the pest. They died of ignorance and lies. They died of the one disease that would yet kill so many: the fear of magic. No one feared it when they took him for a jester to entertain the Orlesian nobility in Threnhold’s, because a leashed mage making flowers bloom and changing the colours of the fire on the candles is perfectly good used of “to serve”, however a free mage healing the ill was allowing “magic to rule”.
Someone very dear once told him in death lied sacrifice, but he could only believe that, ultimately, in death lied justice.
Motherhood
Lothering – Kingsway, 9:13 Dragon
A note written in a very poor handwriting sits on top of a small pile of ten pieces of virgin hemp cloth, carefully folded. It smells of incense and the cloth pile appears to be slightly damp.
My good Revka,
Here is noted the rituals from Sister Geraldine, as I promised you. Her writing is called “The Art of Parenting for the Good Andrastian”, and we do not have a copy in the monastery. Maker knows how many times I have already asked for a copy of this treasured work for our Chantry, but you know how limited our resources are these days...
Still, myself and mother Ailis managed to pull our memories together and remembered most of it! It is as it goes:
To purge the body of unwanted magic, before it takes hold of the infant, place leeches on each of the child’s limbs, until the leeches are half full. When done, burn the leeches. Be sure not to inhale the smoke. Afterward, wrap the child’s limbs in cloth blessed by a Chantry sister.
A child showing signs of magic may be submerged in water until the breath is nearly lost. If magic is still weak within them, it will die before the child. Should the trouble persist beyond reason, certain talismans made by the Formari may suppress the child’s skill.
Also, do never let your infant sip elderflower mixed with honey, because it can attract spirits inside the infant, causing magic. If the child has taken even a small sip of this mixture by accident, induce vomit right away or hold the child upside down as much until the infant passes out.
And remember, in case you ever remarry and wish for new children, always avoid conceiving or giving birth in winter. Spirits roam more freely after Firstfall starts (the heathens of the Imperium call it “umbralis” which means “obscure spirits” and “shadow ghosts” in profane their language); and while with child, as you know, always sleep with dried embrium beneath your pillow.
May the Maker bless your heart and guard your child of magic.
Sister Demelza
Again
Lothering – Harvestmere, 9:13 Dragon
A ball of parchment, crumpled in anger sat beside an embroidered tissue, their initials M&L witnessing the woman’s muffled sobs as she reached for it once again.
Love,
I am sorry I have to depart once again. I hate to leave you all alone with the little ones, but please understand I do it for us. I don’t have much of a choice to fetch us coin rather than putting my skills to use away from you. I know you are upset right now, love, but when I had you come with me, I assumed the responsibility to provide for you and our children.
I will not have you beg your brother for coin while I can make us live comfortably, this is beyond me, Leandra. That you even brought it up yet again hurts me. I know the life you were accustomed with, and I understand you would want for our children to experience the same, but I cannot just stand by and play the farmer when you know how much more I can make if I join the guild for just a couple of months.
I will be home for Satinalia, and we will be plentiful. This is not nearly as easy as you think -or accuse me of feeling-, it hurts me when I come home and find my children have blabbered their first word, or learned to hunt a runaway hen. I miss them, I miss you, and at times I miss even Revka’s stew…
Try to remember why we are together, those feelings that seem so long lost in Kirkwall’s Hightown… I will try to bring you a gift from the Free Marches, maybe one of those comb and mirror sets you like so much. And please, find solace in the children, in your cousin, not in the Chantry’s lies, I hate to feel its poison in your mouth every time I return.
I love you.
Yours,
MH
Cousinhood
Lothering – Cloudreach, 9:14 Dragon
“See! Told you she gets warm and heavy, it’s how I know” she cheered at her own conclusion, observing her cousin hold his baby sister, fondling the squishy content inside the baby girl’s wraps, his forehead forming a frown trying to evaluate the weight and temperature of the baby’s booty “I guess that’s ‘cause her poop’s kinda liquid, not log poops like we do…” she pondered, narrowing her eyes specialist-like as Alexander wore a queasy expression, his body writhing by thinking of it. The baby girl rehearsed a small laughter which in time turned to a hiccup as her brother had her hanging away from his body.
“Ugh, now she’s doing those drool bubbles...” Alec exasperated as he continued to frown in disgust rather unsure why he still held the baby. A full laughter exploded from the hanging girl as she seemed to enjoy the bounce Alexander’s revulsion created. Elizabeth watched his distress with amusement, giggles trembling their way up her throat.
“Poor me, ‘cuz, see, mom and aunt are teaching me to change them…” her voice bittered, her eyes falling on the floor for a second and bouncing back at her cousin, focusing on his loathing expression. “You really don’t wanna see what’s inside there! It can be so yellowy it’s almost green!”, she teased, contorting her face as if she could retrieve the smell inside her nose, pointing at the baby’s bun, sitting on the edge of the bed, swinging her feet back and forth.
Alexander stuck a tongue out mimicking a gag at the mention of the diapers content. “I’ll put Beth down before she starts fussing and mom thinks we did something”, he finally asserted, gently lowering his sister to her crib. Tilting his head he looked at the bay girl for a second, contemplating her smiling and round drool-glossed face. “It must suck to be a baby, now she gets to lay there on her warm poop and laugh about it like an idiot”, he pondered as he watched her stretch her chubby and too short arms at him, without a hint of bawling. Good girl Bethany.
Elizabeth observed him with some attention. She could pick up any of the twins quite effortlessly, but to lay them down , for some reason, was just so much harder. But not for Alexander. Nothing was ever too hard for him, and at some level she was quite sure of her cousin’s invincibility. “I hope Carver is like you when he grows”, she let out of her mouth in an aloof tone, as she stood. She walked towards the cribs, now looking at the sleeping boy.
“You mean looks? Cuz his eyes are blue, and dad says Beth will look more like me”, Alec asked without much curiosity for the answer, turning his gaze to his brother, slightly uninterested. “Carver’s more like aunt, he’s sort of pale, and his nose is like this...” he added, making a gesture for the leaner nose shape with one hand “plus his face is weird cause he’s got no brows” he added, as if ready to go on pointing oddities on his baby brother.
“No, Alec!” she hissed disapprovingly “that’s not what I’m saying… I mean I hope he gets to do all the things, all done well, like climb trees and hit with the slingshot and run very fast...”, Elizabeth explained in an excited tone, approaching the crib, looking at the boy asleep. “I wish we were outside playing...” she sighed, paying attention to the pouring rain hitting the window. She was sure it had been raining forever.
Alexander quieted for a second as his cousin’s words hit him, his eyes glistening as he looked at his own shoes. His chest felt heavy and warm, like if someone was hugging him tight, almost too tight to breath, but still oddly comforting. A long breath in as he swallowed the pride choking his throat. She was even better than him sometimes, especially at climbing trees. His face began to redden and he focused on the droplets’ noise instead, checking for the rain, frowning again, sitting on the lower bed in the bunk. “But aunt now doesn’t want you to play with me and the boys outside anymo...”
“I have an idea! I thought of a game!” the girl said abruptly, excitedly, sparkling eyes, her voice too loud -a look at the twins, Carver was still asleep and Bethany, she never got startled. Jumping beside Alec on the bed, her voice was small and smaller as she began to whisper the ultra secret and too amazing plan for the endless fun: “We’ll sneak out, I can go alone actually, and then I’ll get Chick...” but before she could continue whispering Carver outnoised thunder and rain, louder and more urgent.
Faded
Lothering – Bloomingtide, 9:14 Dragon
As they stopped running, their faces burned red for the effort. Panting, breathing, so happy it tingled, vivid eyes sparkling of victory as they escaped through the corn field together. Elizabeth was the first to give up and throw herself on the dirt, face pillowed by broken branches and leaves left by the croppers, eyes narrowed and then shut not to face the sun. Alexander followed, hands on his knees first, throat still stinging, letting a hint of laughter escape, with some snot that soon reached his sleeve.
“What are we gonna do, Alec? D’you wanna go see the cave? The Erlians said they’ve seen a whole giant spider head inside, it still had the eyes and everything!” Elizabeth suggested, spreading herself on the ground, resting her left arm on top of her shut eyes, not to be bothered by the sun, waiting for her cousin’s suggestion.
Her words passed him like the wind, his mind sucked back to a memory vortex by the burning in his throat. Her heavy breathing and the constriction in his chest placed him inside the house again. With his breath still not entirely back, rosy cheeks and dry lips he asked “What was your mom doing yesterday evening, before supper? Was it the water thing again?” He asked, as if remembering some matter important enough to pale the possibility of seeing a real giant spider head.
“Ahn?” the girl half sat, face slightly sideways to evade the beans, reopening her eyes and looking at her cousin, a small confusion frown on her forehead. “Before supper?” Not a hint of understanding, still she wouldn’t search for an answer when a possible spider head laid not a twenty-minutes-lungs-coughing-run away from them. “Are we seeing the spider head or not?” a more impatient voice asked, as her body finally sat straight.
“Dad was pretty angry, then mom took him outside and they were arguing on the porch ‘cause of aunt” Alexander went on insensitively, sitting beside the girl, taking off his left shoe and shaking off a couple of rocklets trapped inside. “I think dad doesn’t like your mom sometimes...” he added, in a much older tone than his age would have allowed for. “Was she doing the water thing again, Tess? I know father was yelling something to do with drown…”
“I know...” she let go in a voice so soft it made her body stiff, her eyes falling on the shadow of a tall corn plant. “Mom doesn’t like him much either. And that gets me angry because uncle is so nice, he’s even nicer to me than he’s to Beth...” a note of pride filling her chest and overflowing in her still meek voice. The answer to Alexander’s question burned in her throat like water, choking her not to answer.
“But that’s cause Beth’s too small, she can’t do anything. He likes me more than Carver too” he pondered in a quick explanation, trying to focus on the initial question. “He told mom aunt couldn’t do that to you. Dad was very angry, but mom... She was kinda not...” he added, as if somehow to sparkle his cousin to talk.
A moment of silence as she looked up and glared straight into the sun, feeling the light rape through her eyes in a painful manner, soaking in the agony and the heat. “She bathed me... that way ... You know, with my head in the tub...” her coy voice echoed distant as if she heard herself through the water, in a sultry suffocating plea.
Alexander fell silent, his eyes incapable of looking away from the girl facing the sun. He had seen glimpses of it before, two or three times, never to the end because his mother would eventually catch him and walk him away. The memory was too clear in his mind: his stomach felt like he’d taken too large gulps of very cold water right after eating hot soup, and an instant urge to hug his cousin took over him. He grasped onto her as if she was pure air.
Elizabeth was still sun frozen at first, and her eyes flooded as a jolt of fear took over: she felt the water crippling through her pants, rising fast while the sun held her gaze. Too afraid to look down, until she broke from it, pushing the ten times bigger cousin which held so tightly even though so softly. “Stop that! I don’t wanna! Stop! Stop! Stop!!!” she ordered, rage walking in circles looking at the dry ground, squeezing her pants to exorcise the water which had never been there.
Alexander could not feel ten times bigger, but small, all too small and his face burned where the fear had slapped him. Quickly he searched strength inside himself to pull his cousin back, his voice sparkling with false enthusiasm and genuine hope “I think we should take a spider eye! One each, so we could have it forever, you and I” he said in a self doubting daring tone, louder than necessary, quickly cleaning his own tears, no time for fear. He stood fast, leaving the fear on the ground, waiting for his cousin to come back to him and to her own self.
Elizabeth slowed down her loops, her despair train on track again, looking lost at the corn field, as if she had come a long way from a strange place. Alec’s voice was so clear cutting through the air, so different from the muffled water ramble which still lingered inside her mind. She as well hated to feel weak and afraid. Small. Wet . Pacing around, the fear cannot stick: “We could try and catch some dog berries on the way. If anyone tries to take our spider eyes, we can attack them, you know, like doing the sling thing Frog Mouth does” she suggested three breaths away from her nodding cousin.
Skies
Lothering – August, 9:14 Dragon
Elizabeth mashed once more the pumpkin puree, covering and burying the small pieces of kitchen, her midday eyes tired and hopeless at the orange goo. Bethany kept patiently staring at her cousin, bouncing ever so slightly on her padded bottom. Her brown eyes were large and hungry, and her mouth was projected forward like a little bird waiting to be fed. Carver had impatience sitting on his blue eyes, expectation filling his already opened mouth, bouncing in his chair to an angry agitated music only he could hear, his arms reaching forward while his expression was stern and focused.
Elizabeth dug the spoon into the mush and shovelled a spoonful she carefully brought close to her own lips, blowing gently and bored. Carefully she led the food into the boy's mouth, wide and receptive despite his rejecting expression. As he chewed on the small chicken pieces she proceeded to repeat the scoop for the girl this time. Bethany parted her lips calmly as the food approached, starting some sort of celebration bounce as soon as the flavour filled her.
Carver watched the spoon retreat from his sister and fussed, as if that one should have been for him too. His bright blue eyes had a downhearted expression, of betrayal almost. Soon his mouth was wide enough to swallow the room. As Elizabeth fed him another spoonful, his lips close around it, as if not to let it go. A gentle pull and his soft lips finally release it back. Bethany kept exploring her patience, giggling slightly at her brother's jealousy, her mouth filled with hunger and drool. A lump of chicken in the spoon causes her to clap her chubby hands in anticipation, her thin eyebrows rising in delight as she chews on the meat piece, lips tight so it doesn't escape. Bethany never dropped, threw or scattered her food; each little portion was sacred and appreciated, and she ate with joy. It was the closest Elizabeth comes to finding her cute.
Carver, on the other hand, has a much more pleasing presence to the older girl, despite his restlessness. His impatient frown was amusing, so much it caused Elizabeth to reach for a piece of bread, and carefully break a small piece to place it in the boy's small hand. There was thankfulness and delight, fulfillment even in his expression. As he guided the bread into his own mouth, leaving behind a trail crumble, making “mmmmm,mmmmm” noises, ignoring the spoon passing over to his sister instead. Carver grinned as the flour pleasure filled his small mouth and his eyes became but slits of blue light. Just like the afternoon sky crippling through the window pane.
A shadow moves outside, like a luscious dark lash in front of the bright blue eye. Alexander runs and laughs and lives with some neighborhood boys under the big willow tree. At least in thought, some part of her runs outside with him. For now she’d try to enjoy Carver’s skies.
Weird
Lothering – Justinian, 9:15 Dragon
She had finally quieted down after the fourth pinch. Not out of fear of the fifth one to come (her mother really knew how to tweeze a tiny amount of inner arm skin, perfectly balanced between pain enough to tear the eye but not enough to come out of the mouth) but rather because she started to feel genuinely sleepy. She had some sort of early morning sleepiness still sitting on her left shoulder, and a bit of the grey after-cry type tiredness on the other side, the weird feeling of giving up, of fading away. Both exhaustions combined weighing her childish head down, her eyes falling on the back of the pew ahead of her. No faces to search for on the knots of the wood, no crawling bug so she could pretend to see a wandering lost king crossing a desert, no funny braid hanging down from a praying head like a dancing snake… Boredom. Sadness? Yes, boredom is children’s sadness.
She hated going to the chantry, especially when it was such a sunny and warm day... She just needed to be outside , free , she did not know how to be any other way. It was the right thing to be . A mother’s speeches were shackles so tight they caused her pain. She could -should!- be barefoot outside, and she could be playing by the lake with Alec; and the the Erlian boys would eat all the good raspberries from the bushes at the back of the mill and only the crooked dry ones would be left for a whole week; such waste of a day to be playing line-up with Chicken and winning so many bets; or better yet, her uncle could spoil her with a too-fast-for-her-mom-to-approve horse ride through the field; so many possible possibilities and she was at the chantry, the one place that smelled of damp old lady armpit on warm days like this. She was so very unhappy for so many many-reasons… none of her cousins had to attend the service. Also kneeling hurt her skinny knee and bad knees are an awful thing for a girl to have (or at least were the kind of ‘awful knees’ that come from fun, according to her mom’s preaching), she could never get to like the Maker when his Chantry was so boring and then she was going to the void!
The water that flooded her eyes was supposed to be by her feet, at the lake; the red on her arms should be stains on her raspberry-hatted fingers instead; the praying and praising should have been jabbering and laughter. How could something so wrong be right? Why did the Maker have to make every key to salvation so boring? How could she love someone who never showed a soothing face, but only a punitive one? She knew she was going to cry forever in agony, alone and lost in hell, in pain and despair, but she simply could not help thinking, feeling, that her uncle was a much better man than the Maker. If only Andraste had married him instead…
“Crying is never the right thing to do, Tess”, a voice so soothing it shied away her tears whispered inside her heart, like a gentle blow within her, flickering her will. Her dry eyes adjusted to the revered mother blabbering about the right thing to do - as if she knew anything about it - and the importance of charity, of sharing rather than accumulating, of detaching from material wealth to achieve heavenly richness, and another bundle of words who became a funny melody. Such a merry tune, the flame of the brazier began to slowly dance to it. She tilted her head and the flame mirrored it, bending over to the side, causing her pain to shut. “You can always have fun inside your head, Elizabeth” the voice let her know, so much like a thought she was sure it was her own. Indeed it was weirdly fun to control the flame.
It was only when the templars hassled around that the warp around her eyes faded. She realized the discrete commotion as her mother held her hand tight, anchoring her to reality. “Always trust the templars, they are sent by the Maker to protect us” her mother repeated every so often, on the way to and from the Chantry. “If you ever see something weird , if anything weird happens in the house, you run to the chantry and call the Templars, only they can protect you!”. Like a meal, three times a day and snacks in between she swallowed this truth , until its flavour stuck on her tongue.
A look to the side, and her childish eyes clashed with a Templar’s gaze, eyes shining like a cat in the dark through the slit of his helmet. “Don’t be scared, Tess, he is just like a skittish kitty, that’s why he hides under all that metal. If you come too close, he’ll hiss at you, and try to attack you, but don’t worry, he can’t really hurt you, a scratch at most. Don’t be scared. I am here to protect you, I can jump out and snap that cat ”. She did not like when the voice was too loud in her head, louder than her own will, so she shook her head shutting her eyes tight in denial, making the voice dizzy inside, quieting it down. That voice was sometimes too weird to bear, and she knew deep inside -so deep the voice wouldn’t reach-, that locking her mind to it was the right thing to do. Unlike the revered mother said, some things were not meant to be shared or given away.
Promise
Lothering – Kingsway, 9:15 Dragon
“Then let me see your fingers!” Elizabeth demanded, high pitched in despair, tears blurring her firm gaze, her chest rising frantically as she tried to look firm and convincing, unafraid voice supported by trembling knees.
“Of course I swear, Tess!” Alexander said in a still shaken tone, his eyes open and wide, sweaty palms clenched deep into his pockets. A too thick gulp of saliva swallowed as he stared at his cousin, fists out and naked as he spread his fingers apart, his hands stretched out towards his cousin, in front of his belly: he could be trusted.
Elizabeth analyzed his eyes more than his hands, the sweat running a river on the deep frown between her gaze. Air gushing through her mouth in relief and she finally nodded, some tears escaping her scared eyes, quickly collected with her sleeves, leaving a wet trail on her wrists. Her mouth was still a tiny bit open, as if she needed more air than just her nose would be able to collect. Alec slowly moved forward and hugged his cousin. She felt small in his arms, like a snail that could be crushed if he pressed too hard. It was weird, because she had just been so big and so bold and so brave and so much taller than him inside the cave, when the spider tackled him down and now she had nearly lost her size. He pressed her shoulders very gently, trying not to smash her snailish frame and her body felt feverish, her cheeks burning hot against his.
They stood in silence harboured by the shade of the hill over the cave entrance, until their breathings aligned and the hug dissolved to their arms and then hands. Alec turned her palms up and analysed her hands: they were chubby, her short nails had dark lines of dirt underneath them and her palms were marginally sticky from some fruit she had been munching on the way to their expedition; a couple of scratches here and there, like medals of her adventurous soul, mementos from summer afternoons well spent. There was absolutely nothing different on her hands that he could not see on his own. He brought her hands together close to his face and clammed both around his mouth and nose, inhaling them deeply: the sour of the fruit mix with that of Chicken’s feathers and general dirt; notes of recently cried snot fluctuated later together with moss and a hint of the salty-sweat flavour the spider had on its fur. His nose twitched in disgust and he finally let go of her hands.
“You can’t see anything, nobody can…” Her voice cut the silence, as she collected her own hands to her pockets. “It doesn’t even smell like burn, and it doesn’t get black either” she added, recomposing, pressing the fabric inside her pockets as if to help her remain calm throughout the voicing of that event.
Alexander was still focused on her, as if startled by every little movement his cousin expressed. “I have never seen you d…” his voice was inquisitive and doubtful at the same time, as much as he was fully sure he had never witnessed such prowess before, he needed to know what he could have missed, when his senses could have betrayed him. Elizabeth interrupted him as soon as he began.
“All the times…” She said in a voice smaller than herself . “All of the times I’ve made fire for us… I... did it… I did it like that” she admitted, her words twisting inside of her like a dagger, coming out and cutting their way through her mouth.
He felt confused, and at the same time guilty for making her diminish even more, that bright brave figure disappearing before the cast of his questions. Still, he needed to understand, he wanted to cope with her and to share it, and carry the fire as well. “Yeah, but it was always with something, like a rock… Not out of the blue! Like you’d get it on hay or something… This time it was just coming out… Out of you!” his fingers intuitively pointed towards her pockets, accusing those hidden hands. His breath slowed, the boy took a minute to hear his own words as if to believe himself for saying them.
As Alexander’s mouth parted she interrupted him again “I want it, Alec, I want it really bad and then it’s there, it’s sort of like spitting... You just want to spit and then drool floods your mouth, it doesn’t really come from somewhere, it’s kinda in you already. But then I can throw it anywhere I want, like spit you see, but with fire” she rationalized as best as she could, a rehearsed speech she had given herself many times before.
“Uhum…” he complied, his eyes lost on her desperate expression; it made sense indeed making magic was like spitting then. He felt like hugging her again, but he could see the snail shell had cracks already, so he refrained himself. “Look… I won’t tell anyone. Not even father, I swear!” he offered her his best reassurance, hugging her with his eyes, no smile, but his lips pressed in a line sharing her insecurity, her fear. Sharing.
She shook her head in acceptance, silently and motionless body retributing his gaze-hug. Her shoulder lifted ever so slightly as she regained her size, “I won’t let it hurt you, Alec, and I’ll use it to save us, just like I did, I promise.”
Water
Lothering – Firstfall, 9:15 Dragon
As soon as her aunt left and closed the bedroom door she knew what would happen. Her mother and aunt always stayed talking as she bathed, mostly because she did it all on her own, except for the occasional “scrub behind your ears” that her mother would order. But sometimes they would be alone, and the door would stand fully shut. As her mother touched the back of her neck her body suddenly went stiff and she could not feel the warmth of the water anymore, just a painful chill down her spine. Her lips tightly pressed together, she couldn't plead. Her joyful moment was replaced by a carousel of fear going in circles around her mind. She looked up at her mother’s face without a whisper.
“Close your eyes, mom’s here, keep calm... Close your eyes, the Maker is with us, close your eyes you have to trust me...” Her mother’s voice was soft and dry, and her gaze worried and heavy as she lowered the child’s head, slowly submerging her face in the water.
As her head was gently held in, she could feel the paralyzing fear drenching through her whole body, her impulse to hold the air and gasp for it at the same time, her throat closed to hold breath and scream. Once her ears were fully dunk she started to feel the thumping of her heart inside her chest, as if it wanted out. Her nails digging into her palms as if she could collapse inside herself and disappear. Her body moved slowly, despite her effort to remain quiet, each inch of her yearning for air, in desperation. Anguish hurting more so than the burning pain crossing over her.
Her jaw was clenched and the water started to feel like fire after some seconds. She bit her tongue inside her mouth feeling the metallic blood down her throat, letting the pain fill her thoughts to overcome the fear. Her lungs burned for air as if she was about to explode, and her throat ached, held tight by the water. Fear filling her on the inside, where the air should be, sipping through each inch of her, the suffocated muffle of her mother’s praying sobs slowly falling behind, slowed and distant.
Scorching water into her, a deep long breath, water running inside her like it owned her as her body collapsed. Darkness enveloping her, a body too hard to breath, and now… soft. The green diffuse light colouring the inside of her eyelids, she knew where she was. At times she wished to never come back, but there was so much water even there. Never at times like this, though. It was always dry when she drowned, like a tempting invitation. Suddenly she was light, like a hawk floating and soaring in the wind. An evergreen and never ending escape, the one place never the same where all reality would obey her will. The floating world like a beacon to this other immutable and painful existence gazed at her, wherever would she roam, the ever watching castle in the distance.
She woke up dry and warm in her bed, the smell of dried embriums filling her lungs and healing the burns. Outside, the dawn tints her window like a bleeding wound. She knew she was back. What is not made of dream, the real is not green, it is red.
Family II
Lothering – Guardian, 9:16 Dragon
Over the vanity a tidily folded note sits beneath a small pouch of coins. The parchment undulated slighted at the spots where the ink smudged ever so little.
Rev,
Please take my tithe to the Chantry, and also the extra for the blessed cloths. I will not be able to attend the service again... Ever since Malcolm returned he is very adamant against anything remotely related to the Chantry. But please tell sister Demelza I am keeping my watch for the twins and that I am very thankful for her prayers. Also tell her my husband should be leaving to the capital in a week and I will attend our lady redeemer’s novena for the end of Wintersend.
If you have a chance, please go by Miriam and see if she has had the time to dry the embriums for me. I have already settled it with her, so it should be just a pick up. She might have leeches as well, I asked her to have her boys fetch new ones for me, well, you know Malcolm found the ones I had and I had to act as if I had gotten them as a gift for him… Anyways, she luckily should have both embriums and leeches by now, she was dealing with a nasty flu, the poor dear.
Thank you so much!
Lea
Sunflowers
Lothering – Bloomingtide, 9:16 Dragon
The afternoon sun tinted the lake into a beautiful mirror, it was such a waste Alec was sick… He was hardly ever sick, as it seemed to be the family’s strength, but at times, when her uncle travelled away, it was not uncommon for one or all of them to face a cold and other small ailments. Missing Malcolm's bold and warm presence was still the most painful illness, though.
After helping her mother and aunt with the dishes and putting the twins to nap, she had the sunny afternoon all for herself. A whole bunch of frustrated plans of tree climbing and pig chasing competitions. A waste of a cave exploring opportunity and even more of a warm time, since winter had just vanished on the horizon.
She sat by the lake, on the last stretch of rocks before the cave entry. The smell was slightly odd, a bit rotten and sour, but it did not bother her. It was their secret place, the cave they claimed as theirs, and it was good to contemplate their sovereignty and triumph even if Alec couldn’t join her. A hand in her pocket and she found a piece of cheese purposely softened by her body warmth, which proceeded to be carefully blown in order to remove leftover lint before being brought to her teeth.
Everything was so boring without Alec, for a moment she considered going back home and spending some quality time with Chicken. Still the ever growing risk of being called in to help take care of the waking twins or do chores around the house was too big. Watching the water form concentric circles as she concentrated on nibbling the piece of cheese would have to do for that afternoon.
Some small steps, so small they could almost fit Bethany’s feet, coming from her… right? As if emerging from the cave, a long pale girl. Not tall, but ‘long’, her skin a bit undead with traces of red, as if she was at the verge of anger. Or cold. Or a bit of both. Her intriguing yellow eyes were like a dying sun underneath her dark night hair. The two girls eyed each other as a scout wandering an uncharted territory for a long while, until Elizabeth moved her gaze away, looking again at the water, still sitting, unimpressed.
The girl approached the edge of the lake, holding her arms as if slightly cold. “That, the circles on the water, were you doing them?” Her voice was husky, a hint of hidden shyness punching through the curiosity. Sultry, beautiful, foreigner.
A bite on the rubbery cheese, and then she looked at the girl. She seemed both fragile and strong, and something about her smelled like Alec, she felt like swallowing blood after being punched, but it was not at all bad, because the fight had been won. “Your eyes look like sunflowers, they’re sort of yellow, and then dark in the middle”, she pointed, because perhaps explaining the circles on the water was not something she would like to do.
“I can… I...” Broken, not only her sentence, but the thoughts. “My eyes?” A pinch of despair, or something like despair, a crisp in the throat and a fuzzy warmth on the stomach. “Your eyes are too dark” she said not knowing how to register the remark. That girl was not afraid: of the circles on the water. Nor of her. Or of saying she liked her eyes. She was sitting with a disgusting blob of cheese in her hands, bored and naive, and yet she looked so brave. Or braved by something. “My name is Morrigan” she had to add, mimicking that bravery.
“I am Elizabeth Amell” she let the words come out naturally, without hesitation, a steady hand guiding the remaining cheese into her greasy lips. “I haven’t seen you before. Do you live here now?” The inquiry was genuine, and perhaps proper of two children interacting, yet something seemed odd, as if the new girl was not quite as much of a child. The cold around her was that of many winters, it seemed.
No! Not something the stranger could say. Morrigan was not supposed to. Still a piece of her seemed to run to the other girl, a brave kin soul. “I can make the circles too” came out in a bold tone, as she proceeded to grow a frown on her pale forehead to bend the surface of the water before the too dark pair of eyes, which now glistened seeing the circles form.
“Andraste’s left nipple!” Elizabeth gasped, shutting her mouth with the entire last bit of cheese, looking now at the girl, and then back at the lake and once more to the girl. “Does your mother know? Does she put your head under water too?” in between teeth-smashed cheese and widened eyes the words popped out, from one edge to the other, from the power and the fun to the fear and the punishment.
“My… mother?! ...No! She doesn’t put my… head… in the water, no” the ivory girl answered, still trying to cope with the information on the question, as if sense was not at all present. “Your mother doesn’t like that you can do magic ?” Morrigan asked, a bit moped by the possibility of someone not realizing a gift she was taught to treasure.
Magic. The word hit her in the face. Of course Elizabeth had heard it before, in the mouth of almost every mother during Chantry service. The curse . The plague . The shame . The sin . The word was also there, despite the disguise sounds used for it, at shouts that came through the walls like whispers whenever there was a fight in her house. The word was also in her mother’s prayers and nightmares. But for the first time, the word was in her mouth as well: “Magic...” a flooded flake of a voice ripped the silence. Her eyes searched for the sun, she wanted to burn before she could drown. A cold hug kept her warm through the rising water. Elizabeth looked at the girl in the eyes: sunflowers.
Neither could understand that hug, unexpected touch of more than just two bodies. Kinship. Not like Alec, or anyone else. Not like a wolf’s hug, or anything else. They exchanged, in silence, what the other had been missing without knowing.