The First's Sister

A/N Alright I can’t believe I put this chapter off fro so long because when I got that one last review that kicked my rear end to actually sit down a write it I really enjoyed it. I really hope you do too and I managed to give the characters their distinct voice, which is proving difficult, especially with Merrill. Ah well. ENJOY! And as always please read and review.

 

Chapter 5

Warden’s POV

 

“With a name like ‘The Bone Pit’ you have to expect people to be a little wary of the place.” I comment. My eyes on my belt buckle as I pull it tightly around my hip. Choosing on this occasion to have my twin blades hanging at my side rather than against my back.

 

Merrill who is walking beside me giggles and I can fell her eyes on my fidgeting hands. “You say that like I named it.”

 

“No elf would name anything so ominously.” The buckle sides into places and I tuck the remaining strip of leather into by belt loop. After smoothing my palms over the material and adjusting it’s position so I am happy with how it sits I return my eyes to the road so I can avoid walking into passing Shems. That would be embarrassing.

 

“The People do lack imagination in that department.” Merrill light tone assaults my ears again. “I’m sure we would have just called it ‘The Mine’ and be done with it.”

 

I find myself laughing out loud. “The People would never dig underground for useless rocks. That is defiantly a practise we can leave for the Shems.”

 

Isabella chooses this moment to enter the fray, her light tone reaching my ears from a few paces behind me from where she walks beside Hawke. “I’ve heard frolicking through the woods is much more your style.”

 

I sense flirtation in her tone and cannot help but reciprocate. “Nothing wrong with a good frolic.”

 

The smile in Isabella’s voice is hard to miss even through I am unable to see her face. “Even naked ones?”

 

The interaction with the pirate queen is suddenly more important than looking where I’m going and I cast a meaning full glances over my shoulder and pull a smirk across my lips. “There’re the best kind.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you frolic.” Merrill says and a quick glace tells me that her forehead is creased as she looks at the floor trying to remember a time when I had. “Naked or otherwise.”

 

I hear Hawke clear her throat directly behind me, clearly uncomfortable with both my presence and the topic of conversation. Though she remains quiet it is clear from the small act that she has picked up on the double meaning behind our words where Merrill has been unable.

 

Isabella’s words do nothing to ease Hawke’s discomfort. “Trust me Kitten. There are few who… Frolic better.” The small pause and the emprises she puts onto the word has a light heat hitting my cheeks and a small smirk crossing my face which I feel the need to hide from my sister and her partner.

 

“Oh.” Merrill says, looking a little dejected that this is something that Isabella had seen but she had not. I’m surprised to hear realisation in her voice a scant moment later. “Oh. It’s something dirty isn’t it?” Momentarily I close my eyes and shake my head hoping that she will not pry any further into the double-layered conversation. The more… creative moments I have encountered in the bedroom and I must admit, spending my life with Leliana does promote quite a few, is not something I wish to be disusing with my sister. “I don’t understand. Wasn’t Leliana angry?”

 

I move my lips to form speech, hoping to push the whole conversation in a different direction but the Rivaini swiftly cuts me off. “I wouldn’t worry Kitten. I’m sure she was… singing about it for days.”

 

“Okay.” I say, pulling at the collar of my armour which is suddenly far to constricting as the steady heat of embarrassment clambers up my neck. “Can we talk about something else?” With anyone else I would have been happy to continue the light teasing but Merrill is relentless in her search for knowledge and giving a detailed description of that night in the Peril is not high on my to do list.

 

“I like this conversation.” So help me Isabella if you continue this I will not be responsible for the consequences. “It’s… Stimulating.”

 

“Will you please stop doing that.” I plead. How the woman is able to make a pause in her speech sound like liquid sex is beyond me.

 

She pays my words no head, furthering my humiliation with a chuckle and a comment of, “When it makes you turn such an interesting shade of red?”

 

“I don’t understand.” Merrill’s says a second time, her gentle confusion saving me from the prowess of the pirate queen. “How would the bed be big enough for all three of you?” Apparently not for long though.

 

Isabella lyrical laughter punctures the air just as we exit the city and I am immediately confronted by wilderness. Rolling meadows for as far as the eye can see. Grass, real grass spurting from the ground, reaching waist height in a desperate bid to be closest to the sun’s rays. The sounds of blustering winds as it flows through the tall blades and wrapping around me in a comforting embrace. I am far to wrapped up in the sights, smells and feel of the earth to be troubled by Isabella’s reply of. “It doesn’t always have to be in a bed Kitten.”

 

Without pause for thought I step off to the side of the track beaten into the earth by passing travellers, bending my knees into a stoop I reach towards the ground and grasp the dirt in my fingertips. I then bring my closed fist to eyelevel and gently release the dried earth to the winds, watching as the small partials are caught in its presence and swooped away. After taking a deep breath, my eyes closing to saver the moment, my palm flattens once more against the earth. Gently greeting the land properly after so long at sea, letting its essence filter into my skin gripping my heart and taking me home.

 

When I let my eyelids slide open I turn to find the Merrill’s smiling eyes and two sets of very confused humans looking down at me. I ignore all of the glances, along with the almost overwhelming urge to remove my boots so I am able to feel the dirt between my toes and rise to my feet, brushing the dust from my hands to clean them. The humans could never understand the elation we feel at such a small act. Could never comprehend the relationship we have with the earth as it gently reminds us of exactly where we belong.

 

My hands reach to my hip to thoughtlessly adjust my belt and I return to the group hoping to avoid any questions with regards to my actions. I receive nothing more than a raised eyebrow from Hawke and a mutter. “Elves are strange creatures.” From Isabella, but neither of them prod for an explanation, for which I am thankful. Simply because I have none, the true extend with regards to the connection all elves have with nature, lost to the depths of history when my ancestors were taken as slaves by the Tevinter. 

 

“So which way?” I ask and step aside so Hawke can step in front of us and take the lead.

 

Merrill quickens her steps to walk alongside her partner, casting her a glace but making no move to reach out for her, leaving me to amble along beside the flirtatious Pirate Queen.

 

The four of us dip into a comfortable silence save for Hawke, who is so tense I can see her muscles bunch beneath her plate armour. Trying my best to ignore the anxious warrior up ahead I cast my gaze over the surrounding fields, not really wanting to be the one to try and strike up a conversation between the group of close friends, happy to simply be an outside observer, looking into their quirks and mannerisms around each other.

 

“Can I ask you something?” The suggestive ring in Isabella voice form only moments ago are gone and I feel her eyes on the back of my head.

 

Feeling my forehead crease a little I turn to her, wondering why she would abandon her more direct approach in favour of asking for my permission to speak. “You can always ask Isabella. Doesn’t mean I’ll always answer.”

 

“Fair enough.” She concedes with a smile pulled across her full lips. “Why don’t you have any tattoos?” she asks using her index finger to gesture over her own face. For some reason she feels the need to delicacy explain her question at my raised eyebrow. “Merrill once told me that her… What are they called?”

 

“Vallaslin.” Merrill’s adds helpfully in a distracted tone, her eyes sweeping over the landscape.

 

“Yeah that.” Isabella says. “She mentioned that they were a mark of adulthood. Now correct me if I’m wrong but I thought you were the older sibling.”

 

I find myself smiling at the common misconception all humans appear to have with regards to The People. “Among the Dalish, age is measured in accomplishment not in years. I just didn’t pass all the tests.”

 

“Oh.” The pirate says thoughtfully looking down at her boots for a long moment. I don’t think she had meant for her question to provoke such a personal response but now she is curious and appears unsure of herself as she makes her next enquiry. “Which one?”

 

“I failed to enter into something called A Rite of Sociedade.” I say knowing that the term will explain very little to any human.

 

“I see.” Isabella states, sarcasm dripping from her tone “Well that clears everything up.”

 

I laugh out loud and the sound echoes around the rolling fields. Deciding to put her out of her misery and with a mild interest as to the reactions I will receive, I concede. “Humans tend to call it Marriage.”

 

The reaction I receive is much more interesting that I could have hoped for. A few steps ahead of me the stoic warrior appears to trip over her own feet, stumbles a couple of paces before being able to right herself and then sharply turns her head to look over Merrill who looks to have seen something so fascinating on the horizon that she misses the entire spectacle. Hawks for her part can do no more than blink at my sister in obvious surprise but says nothing. Choosing instead to rests her palm against the hilt of her sword and turn her gaze away, saving that particular conversation for somewhere much more private.

 

I share a silent glace with Isabella and see amusement dancing in her eyes that I feel mirrored in my own.

 

Hawke swiftly turns off the beaten tracks and leads us towards the crest of a hill, as we near the top the crackle of small fires reach my ears and the sight that greets me has my step faltering. The mine appears to be nothing more than a baron wasteland amongst such lush fields. Thousands of feet, trampling any life that could spring forth into dust, the current absence of movement and the still, deathly silent air giving the place a distinctly ominous feel. Small abandoned campfires scatter the ground: spits with now charred carcasses and rabbit and game rest above the flames, pots and pans scatter the ground, some spilling forth an obvious meal into the dirt. I follow my three companions and upon closer inspection find the telltale signs of running footfalls imprinted into the dust at our feet. No scuffle or any form of confrontation, just hordes of men fleeing for their lives.

 

I break away from the group, going over to inspect one of the fires, which is starting to burn low. Crouching down and resting my elbows on my bent knees, I run the very edges of my fingertips around the mass of footprints I find, trying to distinguish between each one without destroying them.

 

“Looks like they were just setting down to eat.” Isabella comments her eyes still on our surrounding. All signs of our light banter leaving her voice in favour of a serious appraisal of the scene.

 

I nod my agreement and follow with my eyes the direction of the footprints. “Then they ran for the trees.” Then I turn my head in the opposite direction to scan my eyes over whatever could have provoked such mass hysteria. 

 

Pushing against my thighs and gingerly push myself to my feet, not wanting to disturb the ground any further than necessary my eyes continue to scan the ground for anything out of place. With light footstep I leave the three still studying the campfires until I find a set of distinctly different footprints pushing into the dusty earth.  My trained eyes continue to apprise them until I hear Isabella voice from behind me. “Well that’s very organised.”

 

“Regimented. Line formation.” I add, running my gaze along the long straight line where soldiers once stood. “Two lines I think.”

 

For the first time since leavening The Hanged Man Hawke speaks with her arms crossed against her breastplate. “Walking dead don’t have the coordination to move like that.”

 

“They can.” I argue lightly, my mind casting back to the fateful night so long ago in Redcliffe village. Heading off waves upon waves of the vile creatures. “When they’re commanded properly.”

 

Merrill is the next to speak. “You’ve seen this before.”

 

I nod, drawing my gaze away from the ground and cast it over the surrounding to see where they might have disappeared to, so they will be able to escape the harsh light of day and in a distracted voice I answer. “Long time ago.” I am thankful that no one questions me further. The words of a demon as he spoke through that small child and the cold fingers of guilt gripping my heart as I plunged my blade deep into his chest haunt me to this very day. Trying to distract myself from the ghost of those memories I ask. “Is there an entrance to the mine near here?”

 

Hawke nods, appearing much more comfortable in her own skin now the conversation is firmly on the task at hand. “This way.” Her long stride takes us beneath a crudely crafted wooden archway and a few steps beneath the doorway. She tries the handle and finds the door locked and a hear a frustrated whisper of “Of course it is.” Before her eyes land on me, silently ask for me to work my magic and grant her entrance to the mine.

 

She steps out of my way as I push forward, already reaching into my pocket for my lock pick. After pulling up the tights of my leather breaches so I cam more comfortable to stoop at the doorway I lower my body closer to the floor, running my fingers over the keyhole and trying to appraise the lock as best I can, squinting into the darkness. “Merrill can I have some light?”

 

She taps the base of her staff against the ground twice and a globe of bright blue illumination emits from the head, She crouches down and tries her best to angle the light source in an effective way, even loosening her grip when I grasp the shaft to position it for her until I can see the inner workings of the lock. Double pin barrel mechanism. Certainly won’t be opening that with my teeth. I pull my lower lip between my teeth and push the tension wrench into the head of the keyhole, pressing first up and down to feel for the rotation of the lock.

 

I hate feeling eyes on me when I do this and there are so many pressing heavily into my back it makes it difficult to concentrate. So in a bid to have Hawke cast her gaze away and feign ignorance I strike up a conversation with Merrill. “Is she always so quiet?” I ask tilting my head in the warrior’s direction.

 

Merrill either doesn’t notice the now uncomfortable look crossing her partner’s face or simply chooses to ignore it. “Not always.” She pauses and lets me further maneuver the head of her staff. When I am happy I press the pick against the opening and push down letting the side of my lips lift and I hear the first pin click into place. “She’s just waiting for you to disapprove.” Merrill continues.

 

Behind me there is the distinct sound of boots scraping against the floor and armour creaking and Hawke begins to move uncomfortably. Another pin drops into place and I let a thoughtful expression cross my face. “Oh.” I hadn’t even considered that the warrior would be so scared of my opinion.

 

“Are you going to?” Merrill’s eyes carefully stay on the lock, the light being held so still that I get the impression that she is holding her breath for my answer. 

 

The click of another pin indicated that I am already nearly done with the old lock and I turn my gaze towards her, knowing I can accomplish the rest if my task by touch. “Would it make any difference?” Another click and the tension wrench gives, beginning to turn.

 

Merrill’s eyes dance with glee and she turns her head to look over Hawke’s tense back where she has at some point turned away from us to stare at something etched into the dirt.  The smile placing at the edges of my sister’s lips is enough. The tall warrior may be stoic and hard but she brings my sister happiness. Something she has not experienced much throughout her life. I will throw myself to the darkspawn before I stand in the way of that. Merrill’s green eyes land back on mine with a new determination. “No.” She answers me and Hawke’s eyes are back on us in an instant.

 

I nod slowly, reaching up to pull against the handle and push open the door. “Good.”