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peopleofthedas2011-01-11 05:33 pm
twist_shimmy) wrote in peopleofthedas2011-01-11 05:33 pm
Vir Lath Sa'vunin Chapters Thirty-Five and Thirty-Six
A Dalish-centric AU gen fic featuring two Mahariel Wardens, one bastard prince, and lingering ghosts.
Title: Vir Lath Sa'vunin (We Love One More Day)
Rating: T (Language and Violence)
Authors: ![[personal profile]](https://s.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twist_shimmy and lenna_nightrunner
Post Word Count: 3000
Summary: When their parents died, Tesni Mahariel was left to raise her brother Caerwyn with the help of the rest of their clan. True to their penchant for getting into trouble, Caerwyn and Tamlen went hunting one day and ran afoul of a mirror, of all things. The next thing Tesni knew, Caerwyn had been recruited by the Grey Wardens. As if she’d let some shemlen just take her brother away! Determined to keep Caerwyn safe, Tesni goes after them, and antics ensue. She’ll stop the Blight to protect her family, Caerwyn will help--grumbling all the while--and Alistair will do his best to bond with his tattooed and bristly new brethren. When all is said and done, the blurred lines between friendship and blood bonds will draw them down a path that will change all three of them forever.
In which Tesni and Caerwyn grumble, and their home slowly comes together around them.
Thirty-Five: Day After Day You Never Ever Crack a Smile. (Abandoned Pools)
Word Count: 1650
TESNI
It took a month, but my companions and I got the keep into something that resembled a comfortable home. Even Caerwyn and I ended up preferring sleeping indoors to the courtyard as the weather turned for the worse. Alistair spent a great deal of time grumbling about the wardrobes, but once we had a stockpile of wood drying in the great hall and a promise of a steady roof and warm meals, spirits were relatively high.
Snow. I'd dragged us all into the snow. But just as I began to worry exhaustively about keeping us all fed in an area with such poor resources, even more of Levi's family seemed to materialize in our courtyard overnight. And this time, they had supplies with them.
This was their land by blood; I knew that. But they wouldn't have it without my aid, and because of that they agreed to return the keep to the Wardens if the Drydens received exclusive trade and storage rights.
“Keep us stocked in food and armor and you have a deal,” I told Levi's surly brother, Mikhael.
“That we can do, my lady.”
I grimaced. “Tesni.”
“My lady Tesni,” he agreed.
...Sodding shems.
The next few days were filled with strange humans hauling crates of goods off carts and the unfamiliar smell of the forge as Mikhael returned the smithy to working condition. The Drydens moved into the servants' area and soon meals were being prepared and we were eating together in the great hall. I hadn't asked them to cook for us or keep the common areas tidy, but they seemed determined to fill the workers' niche in the keep and leave us to training and planning for the coming war.
“Training, and stone rooms, and not nearly as much meat on my plate as I want,” Alistair muttered to me at dinner one night. “This feels like being back at the Chantry.”
“That'll change quick.” When he raised an eyebrow at me, I elaborated. “I'm sending word to the mages that we're here.”
“Oh.” He tore a roll in half. “Why?”
“We need an army, don't we?”
My brothers were less than pleased with the idea, but didn't complain. Because of that, I tried to keep my whining to a minimum when Alistair told me I needed an office.
“I have a desk in my room. Isn't that good enough?”
Alistair ran his hands through his hair. “No. Eventually we're going to be having meetings with people who matter, and you can't do that in your bedroom.”
“Why not?”
“Bedrooms are... private places.”
“Exactly.” Anything worth being kept secret was always discussed in an aravel.
“No, I mean, they have beds in them, and....” He turned to the door. “Oh, thank the Maker, Zev. Tell her why she can't have strategic meetings in her bedroom.”
Zevran smiled in that way he had, and I felt my cheeks go pink. “My Warden, they will certainly get the wrong idea, and then think terrible things about you.”
Terrible things? “I'm Dalish. I'm used to it.”
“Naughty things.”
“Oh.”
“I'd rather people not think of you in naughty ways, you know.” He winked at me. “It makes me jealous, and then I regret that I can no longer assassinate on a whim.”
“And we can't have that.”
“Indeed not. So might I suggest one of the rooms on the first floor, near the great hall?”
Leliana spent the next few days decorating the blasted space, and the day after she was done Zevran herded me into it with an armful of parchments. I sat on the edge of the desk, but he shooed me off and covered the desktop with the papers. “Sit in the chair, my Warden,” he chided when I moved to the rug.
“Why?”
“Because you cannot hold meetings on the floor, no matter how nicely your brother tanned that wolf pelt.”
I was beginning to hate taking the keep over. Zevran grinned and unrolled a large paper in front of me as I slumped into the high-backed chair behind the desk. “This is a map of Ferelden.”
My eyes wanted to cross. So many small letters, and symbols, but I saw lakes, and trees, and.... “Where are we now?”
He took my hand and pressed my index finger to a small, blank space in a series of triangles that must be mountains. “Here.”
“And Loghain is...?”
Zevran slid my hand across the paper to picture of a large city. “Here, if our luck holds.”
I stared at the very short path my finger had taken. “So close?”
“Pray it snows heavily this winter, my Warden.” Next he showed me the mage tower, and Redcliffe, where Arl Eamon hopefully was continuing to turn a blind eye rather than actually siding with Loghain against us. My hand traced the roads, led by his, and I felt my heart grow heavy in response to this new, strange world I was meant to protect my clan from.
When I complained that my eyes were beginning to ache, Zevran unrolled a blank scrap of parchment.
“Let us get you writing your name, at least, so that you can sign missives written by others, no?” He handed me a quill and arranged my fingers around it, showing me how to hold it and draw it across the page. “Try to draw a few lines.”
I felt like a da'len. “Close the door, please,” I muttered, and he laughed as he obeyed.
“Learning is not a shameful thing, tesorai.” Zevran stood behind me, radiating warmth and merriment as I covered the paper in blotches and uneven lines. When I snapped the quill in frustration, he calmly handed me another, then leaned in close and showed me the proper pressure and speed to get a clean line. His fingers wrapped around mine, strong and sure, and led my hand as the quill scratched across the paper.
“Now we set the ink.” He sprinkled something over the line. “This keeps it from smudging, you see.”
I handed him the quill and rubbed at my eyes. “Show me my name.” He leaned over my shoulder and wrote the letters, sounding out my name as he wrote. I frowned as he set the ink. “It's... so ugly.”
Zevran chuckled. “I disagree. Here, see mine?” A few letters joined mine on the page. “And here, your brother's.”
I stared at Caerwyn's name and watched the ink dry and settle into the fine grooves on the page. “His is much rounder-looking. Mine is so sharp.”
“I find it quite balanced.” He dropped the quill and rested his hands on my shoulders. “Copy it.”
“My fingers hurt.”
“Then we shall continue until they have gone numb. Problem solved!”
I picked up the quill and followed his instructions, starting the letters as ordered and writing my name over and over. Periodically he would stop me and guide my hand with his until my name began to flow naturally from my poor, cramped fingers. My skin was covered in ink by the time he finally relented and agreed to let me take a break.
“Tomorrow we will continue,” he threatened, and I sighed and rose wearily.
“Then I should sleep.”
“Wait a moment, tesora.” I looked at him curiously, and he slid a thumb along my left cheek. “You are wearing more ink than usual.” He smiled and rubbed at the offending blotch several times. It was an intimate gesture, and I lowered my eyes, feeling suddenly awkward.
“What does 'tey-so-rah' mean?” I asked his chest.
His finger stopped, and he dropped his hands to his sides, leaving my face feeling strangely chilled. “Go rest now. The novelty of letters will wear off far too soon, I fear.”
Three days later I was writing my name steadily enough to sign a note to the Circle Tower without feeling too ashamed of how it looked. I sent it with a Dryden who was bringing a shipment of goods to a nearby town in the Bannorn, and resigned myself to spending the next few days learning the other letters in the shemlen alphabet.
It wasn't fun. Blank pages looked more, not less, threatening with time, and I was growing tired of being covered in splotches of ink. At least Zevran proved to be a good teacher. Though he stopped calling me teysorah, whatever it meant. When I covered myself in ink by accident, he handed me a damp cloth, and stared out the window while I wiped my cheeks raw in annoyance.
I hated ink, I decided.
“What does your name mean, my Warden?” he asked me during our second week of lessons, shuffling through the papers and tracking my progress.
I sat in my chair and inspected my ink-stained fingernails. “'The warmth of the sun on my face.'” When he looked at me oddly, I elaborated. “Mamae said that I had a beautiful smile.”
Zevran frowned. “Then it is doubly sad that we so rarely see it.”
“Have we had much to smile about?”
“I always find something to smile about.” He proved his point, and I scowled at him. “It is a trick I learned over the years. You should try. It would be nice to see you less sad.”
“I'm not sad.”
“As you say.” He shrugged. “Now show me what you remember of the alphabet.”
A, B, C, D.... Zevran leaned over my shoulder and watched me write, making encouraging noises. “You are improving quickly,” he said as I reached Z, and tapped me under the chin when I smiled despite myself.
Thirty-Six: In the Same Place with a Straight Face--Dead on the Inside. (Superdrag)
Word Count: 1310
CAERWYN
I rolled over toward her and yawned, pulling the bedclothes closer around myself. The big stone building was cold. We might as well’ve still been out in the snow.
“Bigger fire,” I complained.
Tesni looked up at me and rolled her eyes. “There’s wood right next to the hearth.”
Not worth it. I scowled.
There were black spots on her hands and face. “You’ve got ink all over you again.”
“What!” Tesni threw the feather down and looked at her stained hands. “Excellent.”
There was a creaking sound as Chat’len butted his head against the door and pushed his way into the room. Tesni shot to her feet and locked him inside as fast as she could.
“Caerwyn! He’s not allowed in the keep!”
I shrugged, and Chat’len jumped up on the bed and curled up next to me. “He doesn’t listen.” I stroked his head, and Tesni made a sound of exasperation.
“He’s not the only one,” she muttered. Then she threw more wood on the fire, turned back to me, and put her hands on her hips. “He’s not coming back inside. And you need to pick a room.”
“I have a room.” I scratched Chat’len under the chin.
“No, I have a room. You need your own one.”
“I don’t want one.”
She sighed again. “At least for appearances' sake, Caerwyn. The shemlen think it's strange that you don't. The Drydens are already starting to talk."
"And?"
"And we need them to see us as Wardens, not Dalish."
I snorted. "Because our intricately ink-stabbed faces don't give us away."
Tesni smacked the top of my head. "This is important. If we don't act like they do as much as we can, they won't respect us, and they won't follow us. We need them to follow us."
I crossed my arms. “I don’t see why it matters that much.”
"Would you follow a shemlen who tried to become our keeper if he didn't sleep in an aravel or know any elvish?"
That was a pointless comparison. We'd never allow a shem to lead--Oh.
"Fine."
So I picked a room; the obvious choice, across the hall from Tesni’s. Alistair’d chosen the one next to hers back when the Drydens’d shown up and he’d decided he didn’t want the other shemlen to talk about him and us. But that hadn’t stopped him sneaking into Tesni’s room when the nightmares came, and it didn’t stop me sneaking in after I had my own room. It was too hard to sleep alone.
Meanwhile, I had my own shemlen-related problems to deal with. Well, problems relating to one particular shemlen.
It’d been over a month since Leliana’d kissed me and nothing’d happened since. I’d thought that everything would’ve been less awkward after that, not more. But I was wrong. It was like outrunning a wolf only to find yourself in a bear’s den. She’d kissed me. I’d kissed her. Then the watch’d ended. The whole thing’d been strange. Nice, but strange. Very nice. But still strange.
Now what?
Leliana’d offered to ‘arrange’ Tesni’s office, and when Tesni’d given her permission, she’d launched into it head-first. She’d spent almost all day every day cleaning, arranging, supplying, and decorating the room. I must’ve tried dozens of times to work up the nerve to catch her alone and make some sense of what was going on between us, but I couldn’t do it. I could take down a wolf without my knives if I had to, but I couldn’t talk to a woman.
And even if I could’ve talked to her, what would I’ve said? I’d never courted a Dalish girl, let alone a shemlen one. I had no idea what she expected from me, or if she even expected anything at all. Maybe she was avoiding me. Maybe she thought the kiss’d been bad. Maybe--
Creators curse her! Her with her bright eyes and her laugh and her singing and her lips--I was going to go mad if something didn’t change soon.
Though I hated to admit it, I couldn’t wait much longer to ask someone what I was supposed to do.
As always, Tesni turned out to be right. I hadn’t even noticed some of the Drydens’d been giving us funny looks until they’d stopped doing it. By the time Zevran’s keen eyes spotted the emissary from the mage tower approaching the base of the mountain, it’d started to seem like the Drydens were beginning to respect us. Or at least respect Tesni, which was what counted.
No one did a very good job of hiding the fact that they were nervous about how I’d treat the mage emissary. I’d been hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with him at all; Tesni was the leader, not me. But of course she chose that time to decide I needed to take a more active role in gathering our unconventional army together. So I was the one who had to make sure our new magic-using friend had everything he needed. Perfect.
But there was something... funny about the mage. And it made me uneasy. As soon as he first spoke to us, Alistair bristled, Wynne pursed her lips, Zevran’s usual smile faltered a bit, and Leliana’s eyes grew sad.
“Greetings, Grey Wardens,” the mage said to me and Alistair--Tesni was off bossing the Drydens around--as he looked from one of us to the other. “I am Pether, of the Circle Tower. The Circle of Magi have received your request for aid and stand ready to assist you. They have sent me as their emissary.”
There was a hard edge to Alistair’s voice when he spoke. “Well met, Pether. I am Alistair, and my fellow Grey Warden is Caerwyn.” He pointed to the others. “This is Leliana, Zevran, and--”
“Wynne,” the funny-sounding mage finished for him. “It has been a long time.”
“Yes,” she said, with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It is good to see you, Pether.”
“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, but despite the fact that Leliana’s expression told me my question was rude, the mage only blinked.
“I have been made Tranquil,” the mage said, as if that explained everything.
“What?”
“He was branded with magic,” Wynne said, “to keep his... talents in check.”
Alistair shook his head. “A fate worse than death, if you ask me.”
“Do you believe so?” the mage asked. “My existence is quite peaceful.”
Wynne’s lips were pursed again.
Leliana glanced at the mage’s face, then abruptly turned and walked back toward the keep. Again, the mage only blinked.
But Wynne forced another smile and held her hand out to the emissary. “Come, Pether. We have food and a room waiting for you.”
When they were out of earshot, Zevran said quietly, “He feels nothing. I must agree with Alistair. I would not wish that fate on anyone.”
“Why’d they do it?” I asked Alistair.
“Because,” Alistair said, and he sounded like he was quoting when he said it, “‘magic is powerful and dangerous.’”
And though I didn’t think anything could ever make me stop believing that, I felt my stomach turn as I looked toward the entrance of the keep.
“Come,” Zevran said to me, his smile returning, “there is a woman with a beautiful voice who needs your pretty face to cheer her up, mi cielo negroii.”
For once I looked even more shocked than Alistair, and I was speechless as Zevran threw his arm around my shoulder and led me back to the keep.
itesora: darling (lit. “treasure”)
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“Then we shall continue until they have gone numb. Problem solved!”
Bloody Crows. Never let them teach you anything, they'll work you to the bone.
"Would you follow a shemlen who tried to become our keeper if he didn't sleep in an aravel or know any elvish?"
That was a pointless comparison. We'd never allow a shem to lead--Oh.
Logic good enough even to get through to the bratling!
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Yeah, no shit.
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*hands Zev a plumed quill*
"Proceed, ser."
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i love this chapter because of everything. i'm so glad to see them back!
i can't even say anything coherent.
\o/
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