Vir Lath Sa'vunin, Chapters Sixty-Five and Sixty-Six

[twist_shimmy]

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
Authors: twist_shimmy and lenna_nightrunner
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 amirror, 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.

"We are in the Brecilian Forest, and the Veil is thin here. If the living cannot help them, then we shall appeal to the dead."

We're baaaaaaack. That's right! From here on out, Vir Lath Sa'vunin is resuming updates every Tuesday until it concludes! (Either that, or until Shimmy dies. Whichever comes first. Given how busy my job has kept me, it could go either way) Sorry about the hiatus, darlings, but do we have a killer arc for you to come back to.

Heh. Heheheheheh. Eh-hehehehehehehe.

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Chapter Sixty-Five: Oh, the Veil Is Thin, Covering Your Eyes In Blue and Red, and Black and White. (Emily Jane White)


TESNI

I miss you, lethallan.

We lay together under an old birch tree while the wind teased at the leaves above us, filling the air with faint rustling sounds. He was turned on his side, murmuring in my ear, with an arm around my waist. Old, familiar, comforting sensations.

Painful.

This wasn’t real. I knew that. I knew that... but I didn’t care. His arms were strong around me, and I could feel his breath in my hair. I’d forgotten how much I missed him just holding me. Having it back was making me realize just how much I would do to keep from losing it again.

“I miss you, too,” I managed. “More than you can imagine.”

I can imagine it. I live it every day. You’re all I want. You’re all I ever wanted.

My eyes slid closed. I wanted to reply, but there was a distracting voice on the wind. It too was familiar, and sounded more insistent with each passing day. And the less pleasant it became, the easier it was for me to ignore.

“Tesora.”

The smell of the forest was briefly replaced by leather and oiled canvas.

Tesni, don’t, Tamlen pleaded. Not again.

I rolled over, pressing myself closer to him, and hid my face from the inevitable. “I have to.”

No, you don’t.

“Wake up.”

My body listened then, and I came to in warm, strong arms, and there were fingers in my hair. Every muscle in my body tensed instantly, hating the arms and the fingers because they belonged to the wrong elf. Like every morning since we came to the clan, I started my day by rolling away from him with a sigh.

Zevran’s voice was light. “The others have risen, eaten, and moved past relaxation and into boredom. Perhaps you should join us so that we can do what we came for, no?” His hand slid over the back of my head, petting my hair, and I winced as I predicted his next words: “Or, perhaps we shall remain here and I shall listen to you tell me what is wrong?”

“...I’ve been tired.”

His hand stilled, then pulled away. “As you like, my Warden.”

Tell me what is wrong. He said it every morning, but I could never find the words. So I dressed, and rose, and left the tent without saying anything else.

As usual, the camp was subdued, except for the sounds of the elves slowly dying to the werewolf curse. Their whimpers and moans always killed my appetite, so I waved away breakfast and pulled everyone together, deciding our next course of action. The forest had us turning in circles, but the cure for those elves was out there somewhere, and if I worked fast enough I might keep more Dalish from dying.

I realized on the third day that this was the only thing that kept me from sleeping as much as possible. Tamlen wouldn’t want me to forget my duty as a clan hunter.

“Get ready, everyone,” I said, refusing to meet Zevran’s eyes. “We leave as soon as I get more arrows from Master Varathorn.”

The sounds of them readying their gear followed me as I crossed the camp to the craftsmen, but the sigh of a young elf distracted me, and I found myself pausing to ask what was wrong. Maybe his brother was sick--or one of his parents, since his face was unmarked.

No. His clansmen were dying mere feet from where he was sitting, and more were missing in the woods, but he was sad because the keeper wouldn’t let him enter the woods to hunt his proof kill. And because he couldn’t have his proof kill, he couldn’t claim his mate.

He pointed her out to me. She was young, and pretty, and had red hair.

I didn’t realize I was shouting until the other activities of the clan ground to a halt around me and eyes pinned on us both in confusion. His eyes widened as I forced my voice back under control, but not until I had stepped in close to make sure none of my words would be lost on him.

“Idiot da’len!” My fists clenched at my sides.

“What, I’m stupid for wanting to be with her? I love her!”

My fists clenched painfully at my sides. “No. You’re stupid for being so selfish.” I forced myself to point to the injured hunters. “That’s what waits for you out there, da’len. Tell me. What good are you to her if you’re dead?”

His face fell, and I forced my jaw not to clench. “Abelas, lethallan,” he stammered.

“Zathrian is keeping you safe, not punishing you. What is a few more weeks to a Dalish? Stop moping uselessly and do something to aid your lin’enⁱ.”

Cammen practically ran from where he had been sitting and mooning over his intended, but I forced myself not to move until my breathing had steadied. When I resumed my walk toward Varathorn, he was polite enough to pretend I hadn’t shouted at all.

Once we were done bartering--Creators, it was nice to have arrows from an elvish master again--he gave me a candid stare and crossed his arms. “You have no reason to know this, but I knew your father.”

I tried not to stiffen. The Dalish didn’t speak of the dead. “Oh?”

He looked moderately uncomfortable. “He was a good keeper. And I’m saying this because someone should tell you that he would have been proud of you and your brother.”

“...He would have?” For a brief moment, I felt like a dashaⁱⁱ.

Varathorn nodded. “Both of his children, Grey Wardens, learning the ways of shemlen instead of fearing them, but still keeping the ways of their clan? Yes, he would have been very proud. I know some of us have been... strained, lethallan, but remember that we’re not your clan. It’s cruel for some among us to act as though you’ve failed us when you’re doing all you can to keep us alive.”

“I... thank you.”

He bowed his head slightly. “Use my arrows to kill as many werewolves as you can.”

That wouldn’t be a problem. The forest was full of them, and as long as it kept us turning in circles during our hunt for Witherfang, we would be running into even more.

We spent another day hacking our way through skeletons and rabid wolves, following tracks that circled back on themselves instead of leading us to the werewolves. We didn’t find a route through, but we did find an injured hunter, who had been attacked and appeared to have fallen down the creekbank. I leaped down after him and told everyone else to stay up top.

Caerwyn ignored me and followed me down, and we crouched and inspected the hunter together. His armor was sodden, mud-covered, and ruined, so we stripped it from him and examined his wounds.

I sighed in relief as soon as his bare skin came into view, which startled my brother. Not surprising, since the deep gashes across his arms and sides were angry and swollen, but the good news was that there were only claw marks.

“No bites,” I explained when Caerwyn continued to stare. “He won’t get sick.” Assuming the infection currently killing him could be stopped in time, at least.

“Back to camp?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yes. He needs healing, and fast. And if he lives, that might give the clan some hope.” Which they sorely needed. Another delay, but the life of a hunter was worth it.

Caerwyn and I carried the injured man up the bank. While I explained to the others that we were taking him back to the camp, Caerwyn handed me his bow and pulled the injured elf onto his back. The walk was slow, and painful, but he wouldn’t let anyone help.

The other hunters were overjoyed to see us return with one of their own, and the keeper was summoned immediately to see to him. Zathrian thanked me as he knelt beside the hunter and healed his wounds.

“If he wakes to eat and drink, he will live,” he said at last. “Deygan will owe you his life, Wardens. Thank you for saving one of my clan.”

Deygan. I’d managed to save one elf, at least. The thought made wandering lost in the woods for the rest of the day nearly tolerable. His safe return also appeared to lessen tensions between us and the clan; they actually wanted us at dinner that night, but I was tired, so I went back to my tent and closed my eyes.

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Chapter Sixty-Six: Is This a Dream? What Have I Done? I Close My Eyes and There’s Someone Beside Me. This Isn’t What I Thought, So Can I Just Go Home? (Guster)


CAERWYN

I missed my bow. I'd hardly thought about it since we'd left home. The heartless shem must've left it in the cave when he'd rescued me. But now I was a hunter again, and hunters needed bows.

So I had to buy one. My face was hot from shame when I set the gold on their bowmaster's table. When he handed me his best bow I dropped my eyes and stared at the grass near my boots. I mumbled my thanks and left with it and a full quiver slung over my shoulder as fast as I could.

The bow was almost as good as Tesni's. Almost. And it was beautiful. The grip was carved with a hawk facing toward the sky with its wings and tail spreading down and back. Curling lines carved around it made it look like it was moving through the air, away from the trees and vines that were carved beneath it down to the bottom, into the clouds and sun above it. I would've been ashamed to show my old bow to the person who'd made this one.

But I didn't like it. My bow'd been simple, and stiff, and plain, but it'd been mine. I'd shot my wolf with it. I'd hunted with my lethallin and my lethallan and missed marks that were easy for him and easier for her. Using it'd annoyed me and I never did unless I had to, but it'd been part of what made me a hunter.

This bow mocked me. My arms ached, the muscles in my shoulder knotted, and my bowstring fingers were rubbed raw after just a few hours, but I made marks I wouldn't've been able to with my old bow, even though I was out of practice. It didn't fight me like my old one had. I was a better archer with it than I'd been before. And I hated that. It was the bow that shot the big buck down, not me.

Maybe that was a good thing, though, because I might’ve been useless with any other bow. I’d forgotten how much magic there was in the Brecilian Forest. Setheneranⁱⁱⁱ. I’d been able to feel it a bit when our clan’d been living in the forest, but not like this. Not since the Cave. I felt as sick as I had in the Tower, but the sights and scents made the memories stronger. Halfway through our first day of getting lost in the forest looking for werewolves I had to pull away from the group to be sick behind a tree. Letting on how I was feeling wouldn’t help anyone.

At least feeling sick was a good thing, too, in some ways. The effort of trying to ignore it combined with how tiring it was to use a bow again and walk as quietly through the woods as possible made it easy to fall asleep at night despite how badly my muscles ached. I thanked the Creators for that blessing.

At first.



What have you done, lethallin?

The sky was clear and blue and the sunlight shone down through the leaves above us where we sat with our backs against the trunk of an old oak tree. I turned my head to the side and looked at Tamlen. He was smiling at my bow where it lay in the grass in front of us. The bowstring'd snapped.

“I hate that bow.”

You should have made a better one, then. He chuckled. Sometimes I wonder if you're really Tesni's brother.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “I got it in the end.”

He looked over at the mangled white rabbit--red now with blood--in a pile with the three he'd cleanly shot and grinned at me.

I suppose wolves are so fast they don't need arrows.

“And they have teeth.” I spun one of my knives in my hand for emphasis.

He messed my hair up and chuckled again when I glared at him. Da'fen'len,^iv he said fondly. Don't you miss this?

“What?”

Tamlen's eyes grew serious and he sighed deeply.

What have you done, lethallin?

I raised an eyebrow at him in confusion. “I don't understand.”

He stared at me significantly until realization hit me like a pommel to the gut. I stood and backed away from him a few paces.

“You're dead.”

My brother hauled himself to his feet. He nodded almost indifferently.

Of course I'm dead. You watched Tesni kill me.

Cold settled in my chest. I swallowed and looked around us. The sky and the grass weren't the right colors anymore. I couldn't see anything past the ground we were standing on and the tree we'd been resting against.

The Beyond.

“I'm dreaming. You're not real.”

You're dreaming, Tamlen said, but I'm real. I wish I weren't. Then I wouldn't have to witness this.

The cold feeling in my chest began to spread. “What?”

My lethallin, a shem-lover. I never would have believed it.

The sunlight faded. The grass turned brown.

The one of us who hated them the most. The one who seemed to wish shemlen would wander near our camp more often so he‘d have an excuse to kill one. Where has my brother gone?

I opened my mouth to protest, but he shook his head.

You and Tesni were alone. You needed to let some of our ways go to survive. I understand. I tried to speak again, to tell him that he didn’t understand at all, and that no one could except Tesni and me, but he wouldn’t let me. But you’re not alone anymore. You’re among Dalish again and you still call shems and flat-ears your clan.'Na lin'din^v. They never will be.

“El dorf'lethallin dar ellin^vi. We’re Grey Wardens. He's our brother.”

Listen to yourself. The contempt in his voice made me bristle. How long were we brothers, lethallin? And how long did it take you to replace me?

“I didn't repl—”

And how long, he said with disgust, did it take you to bed your shemlen alas'asha^vii?

My eyes narrowed. “Don't call her tha—”

Poor little Caerwyn, helpless against the charms of the first woman who would have him. A shem who seduces and kills people for gold.

“You don't know her.”

No, you don't know her. You may as well be sleeping with a snake in your bed.

“I trust her,” I said quietly.

I thought you had more sense than that. Shemlen are as treacherous as Fen'Harel. She'll betray you. It's only a matter of time.

“No.” I shook my head firmly. “She lo—”

Tamlen gave me a look so dark my voice died in my throat.

You think she loves you? He laughed bitterly.You know nothing about love.Tesni and I were together for longer than your shem’asha has lived. You're a boy rutting like a wolf. You took the first woman who'd have you into your bed so you could satisfy a need. Only da’len think that need is the same as love.

There was so much anger in his eyes I took another step back.

Shem’asha ma arlath’din, lethallin, ma asha arlath’din^viii. She’s nothing but a passing fancy. The sooner you accept that fact, the safer you’ll be.

“Shem’asha dar emma sa’lath,” I said fiercely. “Ar dar da’len’din.^ix Don’t tell me how I feel.”

Na sa’lath^x, Tamlen sneered. You have no idea what that word means. She’s poisoning you, lethallin. Get rid of her before it’s too late to suck the venom out.

Warm fingers stroked my cheek. Er'asha. Emma er'asha. Emma sa’lath.

“Réveille-toi^xi, ma moitié.”

Your snake is hissing in your ear, brother. Be careful that she doesn't squeeze the life from you.

I woke in the dark with my pulse racing and Leliana in my arms. Thank the Creators. I buried my face in her hair and ran my hands over her skin and held her close against me. She was real, she was here, and Tamlen was gone.

“Tu fais un cauchemar,^xii” she said in a soothing tone as she ran her fingers through my hair.

No. I would’ve sooner believed the archdemon didn’t exist than that that’d only been a dream.

iLin'en: Relatives (lit. "blood people")

iiDasha: Little girl

iii Setheneran: Land of waking dreams. A place where the Veil is thin. (lit. “tenuous waking dream place”)

ivDa'fen'len: little wolf child

vNa lin'din: [They’re] not your blood.

vi El dorf'lethallin dar ellin: Our grey lethallin (Alistair) is our blood.

viiShemlen alas'asha: human whore

viii Shem'asha ma arlath'din, lethallin, ma asha arlath'din: The human woman doesn’t love you, lethallin, [and] you don’t love her.

ix“She's my mate,” I said fiercely. “I'm not a child."

xNa sa'lath: Your mate

xi Réveille-toi: Wake up.

xiiTu fais un cauchemar: You're having a nightmare.

Da'fen'len, don't you miss this?