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The crystal halls of Mythal glinted around Renehn as she hurried through the corridors, sunlight reflecting off the iridescent gold of her vallaslin. She wore the blood writing proudly, a mark of the devotion of her service. Mythal was a great queen of the gods, the All Mother, and to be chosen to guard her as Renehn had been was more than an honor.
But the Lady Mythal had done more than that for her. She had raised Renehn up from humble beginnings, given her a place and purpose in life.
And Renehn was ever grateful.
Now, though, she was going to be late, much to her shame. As of late she was plagued with dreams, nightmares, and her time to sleep was spent tossing and turning, no matter how luxurious her bed was, or how much of the sleeping potion she took.
If she could, Renehn would guard Mythal constantly, never leaving her side, such was the measure of her devotion. But the All Mother had laughed when she offered, and said the Renehn deserved time for herself.
Renehn didn't really understand. Her time, like everything else of hers, belonged to Mythal. But perhaps it was a kind of reward, and if so she wouldn't deny it. Mythal was free with her praise and her gifts, to those who pleased her. And Renehn was often among that number.
Surely, however, she would be no longer if she truly was late. Her hands trembled from nervousness as she belted on her sword, her shield strapped to her back. She wore beautiful armor, plated in gold and silver, a mark of her position and Mythal's favor.
Running her fingers through her short red hair, she did her best to tidy her appearance, not wanting it to be obvious that she'd slept in. There was enough gossip in Mythal's court — she didn't want add to it.
Finally, she arrived at the door of Mythal's feasting room, slowing to a walk. Despite her rush, there was no hint of sweat on her brow, no flush to her face. It might be a petty use of magic, she thought, but it was necessary.
She didn't knock, as she knew she was expected. Besides, servants weren't meant to draw attention to themselves in such a way. Knocking was for people above her humble station. Instead, she slipped in through the door, silently taking her position behind Mythal, slightly to her right. The guard on duty gave her a cursory nod, and left, switching spots as they did every morning.
Mythal was breakfasting among her courtiers. Her husband and the other Evanuris were away, in their own palaces, looking over their own territories. They didn't often travel to meet one another, and privately, Renehn thought that was a good thing.
When there was more than one god in place, chaos reigned.
"You seem out of sorts this morning, Renehn," Mythal's voice was the only sound in the grand hall, and quiet as she was, all of those present heard.
Renehn flushed, embarrassed to be singled out in such a fashion.
"I beg your pardon, my lady," she said stiffly, with a slight bow. "I slept poorly."
"Oh?" Mythal didn't look at her, but Renehn felt the goddess' attention on her. It was a heady feeling, to be the center of that focus. She was unused to it, and found that she didn't like the sensation. "Have you seen the physician?"
"Yes, my lady. He's given me potion, but it doesn't chase away the nightmares," she said, the truth pulled from her by her reluctance to lie the All-Mother.
"I see." Mythal seemed displeased at this, though Renehn didn't know why. Perhaps it was only that her guard was tired on duty, but somehow, she thought it was more than that. "I'll want to talk to you later."
"Yes, my lady," Renehn said obediently, but her mind was reeling. What did Mythal want to talk to her about? A punishment?
In all her years serving the Evanuris, she had never done something worth punishing. And she didn't want to start now.
Mythal was clearly done speaking to her, at least for the moment, so Renehn went back to her duty. Though the Evanuris, and especially Mythal, ruled Thedas with grace and generosity, there were still those who would rebel. Humans, mostly, though the Qunari had been an issue for a while. The dwarves were content to keep to their kingdoms under the ground.And, oddly enough to Renehn, elves were often among their number, as well. She knew there was a thriving rebellion, though the specifics of it were left to others. She knew only enough to effectively protect her charge.
Renehn didn't understand why anyone would want to rebel. Everyone knew what happened the last time, when the Dread Wolf had led the revolution and destroyed generations of elves, had in fact nearly destroyed the world. Such were the consequences of upsetting the natural order, she supposed.
The rebellion had been quiet, as of late, and she knew that wasn't a good sign. They were preparing for something, no doubt. Something big. So, despite her fatigue, Renehn was on alert for anything unusual, anything that might be a threat.
She knew it would be a great victory of the rebellion to kill Mythal, and she would not allow such a thing to happen.
After all, Mythal had been assassinated once before. If the Evanuris weren't so powerful, surely she would be dead.
Surely Elvhenan wouldn't have been restored.
But just because Mythal survived once, didn't mean she would again, and so Renehn was constantly vigilant. Still, she was tired, and so turned her head away to stifle a yawn.
It was then that she saw the glint of armor, the point of a deadly arrow.
"Assassin!" Renehn shouted, drawing her shield and placing herself in-between the thread and her lady, just in time. The arrow pierced her shield, glowing with enchantment and dripping with poison.
Mythal stood, her rage incandescent, but the assassin had fled.
"Chase them down!" she shouted. "Go, now!"
Ever obedient, Renehn didn't pause before she was racing through the room, shield forgotten as she ran. This assassin would not get away.
Not from her.
Through the palace she ran, the would-be killer barely in sight. But Renehn could see that they were an elf, could see the fine clothing they wore — clothes that would see them fitting in as a servant of Mythal. She wondered if they even had vallaslin, if they had been lying in wait for days, weeks, months, years to for the opportunity to kill her.
If so, they had chosen a poor time of it. Their one chance, ruined by Renehn's quick thinking.
Renehn had to wonder why. Why not poison, or something harder to detect?
She prayed that Mythal's remaining guards and courtiers were enough to protect her, should this only be a distraction, as she feared.
Renehn assumed the assassin would lead her to a passage out of the palace, would attempt to escape the vengeance that would surely be reaped upon them — but they weren't trying to leave.
Instead, whoever they were led them further into the maze of corridors, down further into the bowels of the palace. Evan as she ran, Renehn wondered where they could be going. A hidden tunnel, of some sort? An underground escape?
The assassin turned a sharp corner, and when Renehn followed, they were gone. She slowed to a stop, with a frown. She was unfamiliar with this part of the place, having had no need to ever go that deep into the dungeons before. The marble walls had turned to stone, and instead of the the usual glowing magelights, there were fire torches burning.
As Renehn moved forward, trying to figure out where the assassin could have gone, she felt a shiver go up her spine. This was a strange place, with heavy magic nearby. Some kind of enchantment.
Cautiously, she turned a corner, only to find a massive door. The chains told her that it was usually sealed shut, but it was open just a crack, and through that she could see an odd green light.
Creeping forward, her curiosity overpowering her common sense, she peered inside.
It could be the assassin's path out, she told herself. Through the door, however, was no path outside.
Instead, it was clearly a cell. And inside was a massive wolf, chains draped around its paws and neck.
Renehn froze, her mind racing. There was only one wolf she knew of, only one being that would be trapped underneath Mythal's palace.
Fen'Harel.
Before Renehn could back away, could seal the Dread Wolf away once more, the wolf's ears quirked up.
"Who... who...?" it rumbled, opening it's six red eyes. It took a great breath, inhaled deeply. "Ren... Renehn?" It asked.
Nehan's heart, already pounding in her chest, seemed to double in speed. How did it know her name?
"Mana... ma vhenan..." It spoke laboriously. Please, my heart. "Revas ma..." Free me.
His heart? Why would Fen'Harel call her that? Did it mistake her for someone else?
But then how did it know her name?
"Hello?" she said, stepping cautiously into the dungeon room, the assassin forgotten. She felt almost in a trance, unable to stop herself. There was something dreadfully familiar about the giant wolf, even though she was sure she had never seen it before.
"Renehn..." the wolf said. "Na amae?" Do you know me?
She shook her head, though it almost felt a lie.
"No," she admitted. "I'm sorry."
It seemed such a pathetic thing, now that she looked at it. It's black fur was lank and greasy, and it seemed far too thin, it's ribs visible.
Did no one feed it? Fen'Harel might be a prisoner, but that gave no reason to starve it to death.
The wolf gave a low moan that tugged at her heart.
"Mana... mana... din’heem ma." Please, please kill me.
Horrified, Renehn stepped closer.
"What happened to you?" she breathed, not wanting to believe that Mythal was responsible for such the pathetic state the Dread Wolf was in, but having no other explanation.
The wolf shook it's head, and opened it's mouth. But before it could speak, there was a voice from behind her.
"Now you see what the Evanuris is responsible for."
Renehn whirled around. Behind her was an elf, an unknown vallaslin on her face. She was slim, with black hair and bit green eyes.
"Who are you?" she asked. "Did you try to kill Mythal?"
"My name doesn't matter," the elf said. "And my associate is long gone from here, I assure you."
Renehn narrowed her gaze.
"You wanted me here," she suddenly understood. "You don't care about Mythal at all." Her hand drifted closer to her sword.
"There are many things you don't understand, Renehn," the mysterious elf said, sounding sad. "Mythal has kept you safe, but she has also kept you sheltered. You don't remember anything, do you?"
Renehn frowned.
It was true, her memories began with Mythal. She remembered little before her life before the All-Mother lifted her up, only flashes of knowledge.
"And if I don't?" she challenged. "Did you know me?"
"Not personally, no," the stranger said. "But I've heard a great deal about you, Renehn Lavellan."
Renehn started. She had told no one, not even Mythal, of the name Lavellan. The name that she remembered, the clan that she had flashes of.
"Who was I?" she asked, almost afraid of the answer.
"I can't tell you," the elf said. "You will remember on your own, in time. Once we get you out of here."
"Why would I leave?" Renehn challenged. "Why should I even believe you?"
"You know the truth, Renehn," the stranger said confidently. "You know that Mythal is hiding something from you. Like Fen'Harel here."
The wolf, who appeared to be listening intently, huffed.
"Ni era alen," he said. She speaks the truth.
It was true. She knew Mythal had many secrets, though the idea that she was hiding something from humble Renehn was outrageous. She was only a slave, after all. A loyal one, yes, a devoted one, who had served faithfully for many years. But she knew her place.
And it wasn't part of some grand conspiracy.
She shook her head.
"This is ridiculous," she said, drawing he sword. "You — you tried to have Mythal killed, or helped. I'm taking you to her."
"There is no need for that, Renehn." A familiar voice echoed through the cell, and the Dread Wolf whined. It was Mythal. "I am here."
The stranger paled, but stood her ground.
"Asha'bellanar," she said, inclining her head. Mythal laughed.
"My, my. No one has called me that in centuries," she said. "You did once, Merrill. I remember when you bowed to me. I'm not surprised to find you at the heart of this."
"Even if you capture me, there are others," the elf said bravely. "I am not the first, and I will not be the last who comes for Renehn. You've kept her prisoner long enough."
"Prisoner? Is that what you think?" Mythal sounded amused. "If she were a prisoner, she would be chained down here, with Fen'Harel himself. I have cared for her, for all these years."
"You have made her a slave," the elf, Merrill, said flatly. "Like all the rest. I have heard that you are the best of the Evanuris. But what is the best of a family of slavers?"
"You speak of what you do not understand, girl," Mythal snapped, her amusement gone.
"Perhaps I do," Merrill said. "But I don't think so. I think after the rest of your kind were freed, you had a choice — to stand against them all for the good of the world, or join them again, in all their arrogance. And we all know which you chose. You would rather cling to power than deny those who tried to have you killed!"
Mythal raised her arm, the gleam of magic gathering at her fingertips. She was going to strike the interloper down, Renehn knew it.
She should be glad. This stranger had tried to kill her lady, had lured her down here to manipulate her.
Hadn't she?
Renehn's mind went to her dreams, the nightmares that had plagued her as of late. The visions of war, of death and destruction.
The memories.
What had she been, before Mythal found her?
Who was she, really?
Mythal had convinced her that it didn't matter who she had once been, that who she was now was what counted. And Renehn had believed her.
Why wouldn't she? The All-Mother had sat at her sickbed, sent her best healers to coax her back from the brink of death. She owed her everything.
Didn't she?
Renehn was frozen, watching, whatever urge she felt to do something fighting with her urge to obey. Mythal was going to kill this elf, and she would do nothing.
Could do nothing.
She watched as Mythal brought her hand down, sending a deadly bolt of magic towards the elf.
Something in her moved.
Something that she didn't know was in her.
Renehn raised her sword, and in a breath, she was between Mythal and Merrill.
The deadly magic fizzled aside harmlessly agianst her own shield, blade in hand.
"Stop," she said, power ringing in her voice. "She came for me. You won't hurt her."
Mythal raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk on her face.
"I see," she said. "Are you coming back to yourself, then? Is your memory finally returning?"
Renehn frowned.
She didn't think she knew the mysterious elf, and she certainly didn't know Fen'Harel, though she knew of him. She dodged the question.
"Why does she think I need to be rescued from you?" she asked instead, shocked at her own daring. "Who am I, really?"
Mythal laughed, a touch of madness to her voice.
"Are you ready to remember? I think not. Not everything, at least," she said. She turned her attention to the other elf, Merrill. "And what will you do, if you managed to free her? Do you think the others would allow it? They know who she is."
Discomfited, the idea that the rest of the Evanuris discussed her at any length disquieting, Renehn didn't wait for her to respond.
"You know who I am, who I was," she said. "You lied to me."
"Despite what your friends may think, I am not all powerful," Mythal said, clearly amused. "I did what I could — but facing the might of the Evanuris, I am only one."
She looked at Fen'Harel, the great wolf silent for the moment.
"They have the power to contain even you, Solas, and your might," Mythal continued quietly. "What chance do I have, against all eight of them united?"
"You're telling me you would fight them?" Merill asked, doubtful.
"They murdered me, child, or tried to. Such things are not easily forgiven," she said. "Even otherwise, the excesses of my husband and children are unsustainable. I have seen the world as it could be, without us. And I know that revolution is coming. I would be on the winning side."
Before Renehn could react, Mythal raised her hands, and the chains holding Fen'Harel down faded into dust.
"Go, now," she said, "before others arrive. And do not forget what Mythal has done for you."
She swept away, robes trailing behind her, and Renehn watched, bereft.
Had Mythal forsaken her?
She was dimly aware of Fen'Harel struggling to his feet, of Merrill feeding him a healing potion, of her lending him her magic.
"Come, Renehn," she said, pressing her hand against Ren's shoulder. "We have to go."
Renehn nodded. She didn't understand what was happening, not really, but she knew that Mythal wished her to leave, and so she would.
She was about to ask where they were going, what they would be doing, why Fen'Harel had been chained, what was going on, when the door banged open. Mythal must have just gotten away, she thought dully, as Elgar'nan himself burst into the room, flanked by at least a dozen guards.
His gaze fell on her.
"Traitor," he hissed, fire rising around him. "I knew my wife should never pitied you, girl."
Renehn wanted to protest, to defend herself, but there was nothing she could say. To speak would be to betray Mythal's confidence, and that was something she would never do. So, she remained silent.
Fen'Harel loped forward, the massive, six-eyed wolf placing himself in between her and Elgar'nan.
"You must go, now," he said. "Renehn... remember. Remember the truth. Ar lath ma, vhenan," he said, and his eyes began to glow.
Merrill grasped her around her shoulders as wind whipped around them, creating a shield that stopped Elgar'nan's flame.
"You have to change things," she said. "You must. The memories will come slowly, but they will come. Trust yourself."
She sliced open her palm, and took Renehn's hand in hers.
"Good luck, lethallan," Merrill said, sadly, and Renehn knew no more.