Chapter Text
France, 1715
The Orlesian Forest
May the Dread Wolf never take you.
Levana could recall hearing that phrase countless times as a little girl, but now, at the age of fourteen (old enough to marry and yet still just a child), the memory of those words stung and mocked her. Her whole life had been spent preparing for and dreading the possibility that she would be faced with her current ill fortune. For years she’d hoped she could somehow avoid it, but the time had come, and she was the right age, just like every other fourteen to seventeen-year-old girl in her village that day. They had all gathered in one place and put their names into the lottery, and, to her misfortune, it had been her name that was drawn. That was three days ago.
Levana shivered as she lay in bed that winter night, contemplating what was to become of her in the morning. There would be no sleeping tonight; that was the only certainty. Her family and friends had all stayed by her side the past few days, trying their best to console her. They were being brave for her, she knew, but her parents could not hide their fear for their only child. They had barely stopped crying and holding her these past few days.
“Some say the Dread Wolf eats little girls,” she remembered one of her cousins telling her once, years ago. “He hungers for their flesh and blood, and if he doesn’t get some once every fifty years, he’ll go crazy! He’ll stomp and stomp and stomp around his castle until it creates a huge earthquake to destroy and flood our village.”
“He doesn’t eat them!” another boy from their clan had piped up, “He marries them.”
“That's silly. Why would he want to marry them? Girls are stupid.”
At the time, she’d been convinced her cousin was right, that Fen’Harel demanded this sacrifice every fifty years to sate his appetite for human flesh. But now she prayed with everything inside of her that he was wrong. She wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea of becoming the Dread Wolf’s bride, either, but it had to be better than being eaten. Hadn’t it?
For the remainder of that night, she prayed to every god she knew for mercy from this terrible fate. Yet when she looked out her window as the sky began to finally lighten, she saw it there, waiting to take her away: a beautiful, majestic white halla. She realized with dread what this meant. In the stories, it was always a halla that guided the dead to the afterlife. Her life must now be over.
Levana got out of bed and went to find her parents, prepared to say one final goodbye. When she found them, however, they were already awake. Curiously enough, they were dressed to travel, their bags packed and ready at their feet.
“Mamae, Bae, what's going on? Are you going somewhere?”
Neither bothered with answers as her mother shoved her coat into her hands and her father said, “Quickly, we’ve no time to waste.”
Levana blinked at them for a second, uncomprehending, while her mother began to help her into her coat.
“Let’s go, Levana.”
“I don’t understand, where are we going? Are you coming with me to the castle?”
Her mother knelt down to look her in the eyes, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.
“No, da’len,” she responded solemnly, “No one is going to that castle. Ever again. We are leaving the village this morning. All of us.”
The next thing she knew, she was being ushered outside to find her entire clan standing outside of their homes, belongings in hand. Their Keeper was the only one absent, but it did not take him long to appear. He was visibly distressed.
“You can’t all be serious! This is our home! Will none of you remain here?”
Her father looked angrier than she’d ever seen him as he made his way over to approach his elder.
“How many more girls have to be sacrificed for this gods-forsaken land, hah’ren? How many?!”
“The gods have not forsaken this land,” Keeper Belraj retorted, “It is you who forsake the gods this day. They gave us this land, and it has always blessed us in abundance.”
“This place is no blessing,” her father spat back. “All of the other Dalish have adapted to life as travellers; it is time we do the same!”
“No, it is not! This is the last piece of land we Elvhen have left to claim. The shemlen have taken everything from us. We can not lose this, too!”
“Open your eyes, Belraj! This land is already lost!”
Keeper Belraj looked desperate, but stood his ground.
“As your Keeper I forbid you to leave!”
It was the only card the man had left to play, and it no longer held any weight. Levana’s father simply laughed, but there was no humor in his voice.
“I should have known you wouldn’t understand. Keepers cannot have families of their own. Well, the rest of us refuse to let Fen’Harel steal away our daughters any longer!”
There were shouts of approval from among the other clansmen. Keeper Belraj realized, to his dismay, that he was terribly outnumbered. He hung his head low in defeat and muttered a single word.
“Go."
And they did, as quickly as they could, not one of them looking back.