Work Text:
Alessa stood transfixed in the Venatori camp. She watched as a halla was magically destroyed, rendered to it’s most basic components, only blood remained, cheers for the crowd around her filled the air.
Neve looked on. “Rook, we don’t have to watch this, it won’t be pretty.”
A memory hammered at her mind; a demand to be witnessed. Something similar had happened before.
Overwhelming dread, slaughter, the cries of halla being butchered, cries filled the air, warm blood pooled underfoot.
She stood pale, shaking, rooted to the spot, with undisguised horror on her face. Lucanis, stepped close, slipped his hand to her lower back, he stroked circles over her clothing, his lips close to her ear as he spoke softly.
“Alessa, you’re shaking.” He squeezed her hip. “Come back to me.”
His warm breath on her skin called her back to the moment.
Mentally she shook herself, pushed herself away from the dark memory, and gave Lucanis a tight-lipped smile.
“This will not help you complete the contract, put it away and focus on what you must do.” Viago’s words from many years before.
She nodded and led the group on, past the screams and jeers.
Once free of the crowd, in a quiet spot out of sight of the Venatori, Lucanis laid a hand on her arm.
“What happened?”
“You don’t normally look spooked, Rook,” Neve added, concern etched on her face.
Alessa closed her eyes, hands clenched into fists and released, nails leaving marks in her skin.
“My past. Later. I just can’t, not now.”
Lucanis cupped her face, brushing his gloved thumb across her cheek.
“Whenever you’re ready, Rook.”
The use of her nickname grounded her back in the moment.
She smiled with more warmth than before, and cupped his hand to her face for a moment before pulling away.
———
Sat in the centre chamber, her feet tucked up on the couch, Alessa’s eyes closed. She took long calming breaths.
Lucanis placed a plate of churros and a mug of coffee on the table beside her.
“You wanted to talk?”
She cradled the cup in her hands inhaling the aroma, her favourite blend.
“Churros?” she asked.
“You said you liked them, and I thought you needed something sweet today, even though it does not pair well with the coffee.”
He sat beside her. Shifting her feet into his lap, silently he sat watching her, sipping his coffee. His calm demeanour reassured her.
“I don’t know how much you know me...” She sighed, as she gazed into her coffee. “What has Viago said?”
She shifted to face him, her arm rested against the back of the couch. Silence held sway in the room until she lifted her gaze to his.
“What I know is that you’re a talented Crow, adopted into House de Riva early in your career, and that Viago is proud and possessive of you.”
She barked a laugh “Proud? Unlikely. Possessive? Yes. I have to pay for picking his pocket.”
“Mierda.”
She glanced away and watched the floating bookshelves as they spun around the room. She sighed, as she met his eyes once again.
“I said I’d tell you.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything that you do not want to.” His hand stroked up her calf.
“There’s little I want to remember.” She took a few deep breaths and continued. “I was born into a Dalish clan, my early childhood is lost to me.”
She spilled a small spot of coffee as her hands trembled. She placed the cup back on the table, swiping the hot liquid from her leg.
“Something happened to the clan.” She raised a finger to forestall the question. “I don’t remember. I have dreams. Filled with oppressive dread, darkness, screams and blood.”
Alessa wrapped her arms around her middle.
“Earlier, something, a visceral memory came back, I could smell it. Taste it. The screams of the halla just like it was...” She trailed off and swallowed hard.
“It’s a unique sound, a halla’s cry. I’ve heard it before, on the day I lost my... them. A monster was hunting in the camp. Halla screamed as they were cut down. Tattooed faces fell around me, hot blood splashing my face, crying children, and metal ringing against metal, the thunk of wood being cut, the thick smoke from leather and aravels burning.”
Her brow furrowed as she exposed the old, unhealed wound to Lucanis. She took a deep shuddering breath.
He removed her boots and dropped them to the floor, his thumbs pressed into the muscles of her calf. He massaged a tight spot. His eyes never left her face.
“I remember being lifted out from my hiding space. Being pushed towards the woods, an old elf, his face mostly black with the tattoo — the keeper I think — pushed a command to run into me, to keep running.” The blood left her face as she spoke, nausea etched in the turn of her mouth. “The smell of ozone, like when a barrier snaps into place. I ran from the chaos, I couldn’t look back, though whether that was a command or just my own fear, I don’t know.”
She spoke as though she searched for absolution.
“I remember running until dawn broke, crying as I stumbled from the wreckage of my life. I dropped into a thicket and slept. I woke hungry, and thirsty with a pounding head.”
“Dehydration,” Lucanis murmured.
She nodded and continued. “I couldn’t go back, I felt that I should go father but I needed to eat.”
———
Bellara gasped in the Eluvian corridor. She could hear the conversation in the main room with clarity, even with the door shut. She sat and wept silently as she listened to the conversation.
———
Back in the main sitting room, Alessa continued.
“Over the next few weeks I lived off the land, trapping rabbits and birds, foraging for edible plants. I made small fires to cook and keep me warm through the nights. I assume all Dalish children learn these skills.” She shrugged. “All good things come to an end though.”
Lucanis raised an eyebrow in question, and shifted to massage her feet.
“The closer I came to ‘civilization’ the less I could forage or trap. I still felt compelled to run, so I went into the city. Human cities are not a good place for a young elf—especially one with a bow and wearing filthy Dalish clothes. After a few... interesting encounters with the townspeople I hid on a boat in an attempt to find a safe sleeping place. I was small, even for an elf and could fit into crannies that were unobserved on the boat. I just wanted to sleep without being bothered.”
———
In his rooms above, Emmrich could not help but overhear her story.
“The poor girl,” he muttered to himself as he closed the door, uncomfortable with the intrusion into her privacy.
Rather than having the desired effect, her hushed voice sounded clear through his personal library as though the lighthouse itself wanted him to witness her story.
———
“By the time I woke, we’d already set sail. At first I rationed out the food, but by the fourth day my supplies ran out. That’s when I left my safe space. I tried to move around when the boat seemed quiet, never taking much.” Alessa rested her head against the couch. “On the twelfth day they caught me as I helped myself to the fresh water from the barrel.”
Lucanis hissed. HIs eyed flashed purple. “Not now, it won’t help her! Mierda, sorry, please continue.”
“The crew gave me a kicking, I was tied up until we reached port, and abandoned on the dock just before they cast off near dawn.”
He switched legs, and focused the motion of his fingers and thumbs on the fresh calf.
“I lived as a street kid after that. Alone in a city with people who were at best disinterested in me, at worst wanted things I didn’t understand or would not to give.” She laughed without humour. “I probably ate every other day at best, the fences ripped me off frequently.”
She closed her eyes.
“I survived, rather than lived there. That was until I cut a pouch from an arrogant, black-leathered man. I ran, he caught me, fed me and dragged me back to Treviso before throwing me in with the fledgelings.”
“Arrogant, black-leathered man? This is Viago?” A hint of disbelief in his voice.
“Yes, that’s Viago.” She smiled, something closer to her normal expression.
“That explains so much” Lucanis said, half to himself.
———
Taash continued their workout as Alessa talked.
“Why not fight back?” They wondered aloud, as they did a pull up. “Should have just
———
“Your coffee is getting cold.”
She sipped it, winced; gathering her will and with a small release of magic, she brought the brew back to a pleasurable temperature. She reached forward, fingers touching Lucanis’ abandoned mug, heating the remains too.
She chewed on a churro, slowly savouring the soft sweet fried dough.
“Mmm these are good.” she said.
“They’re cold, I should make you some more”
“Stay with me?” Alessa’s voice sounded small as she pulled her legs from his lap to curl into the crook of Lucanis’ arm. “I need to be here with you, not back there in that.”
He wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her into his lap, placing a kiss on her brow.
“We are here for you.” He whispered into her hair line as Spite curled his wings around them.
———
Later that evening, Neve came to Alessa’s room. “So what happened earlier?” she asked with her hand on her hip.
“Short version?” Alessa asked. At Neve’s nod she continued.
“I was born into a Dalish clan. When I was young, something bad happened to them. I don’t remember my parents, or any of the others. All I do remember are the screams of the halla, blood, fear, and the Keeper telling me to run. That all hit me as those bastards cheered on the destruction of the halla.”
Neve frowned. “How old were you?”
“Viago thinks I was eight.”
“’Viago thinks?’ Surely you know how old you were.”
Alessa sat on the fainting couch.
“I remember little else. I don’t want the memories.” She frowned. “What I felt in the Venatori camp is of no use to me.”
Neve’s voice softened as the approached, a hand on Alessa’s shoulder. “You could still have family out there—”
“I have a family,” Alessa snapped, meeting Neve’s eyes. “The Crows are my family.”
She smiled, softening the force of her words.
“You lot have grown on me too I suppose.”
Neve smiled back and nodded. “You’ve grown on me too. I’m going before this gets sappy.”
She paused at the door.
“If something comes back, you can tell me. I’d help you if you wanted to find out.”
“Thanks, Neve, I’m fine.”