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The First's Sister	By : lycanthrope Category: +A through F > Dragon Age (all) > Dragon Age (all) Views: 9452 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: All Characters and places found in this fic are based on Dragon Age Origins and Dragon Age 2 both games are the legal property of Bioware and i make no profit from the posting of this fic.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2

Streams of Dalish words string together so quickly, against my chest that I have no hope of comprehending them. The language was not something I paid much attention to in my formative years. There was always something more interesting to learn, how to string a bow or stalk a dear or pick a lock. Right in this moment though, here and now. I would give up all such talents to understand what the small woman in my arms is saying to me, through her tears.

Focusing more on the tone of her voice than the actual words she is uttering, I can do no more than to repeat the mantra of 'I missed you too.' Over and over again against her pitch black hair. Tears I no longer thought I could shed, falling freely down my cheeks.

Without warning she sharply pushing against my chest and I find myself blinking away tears so I can see her more clearly. “I couldn’t find you.” She has finally composed herself enough to speak in a tongue I can understand. Her fingers find their way to my damp cheeks touching the skin so lightly, treating me like a find work of glass that could shatter if pressed to hard. “I searched.” My tongue takes on the weight of lead and I am struck dumb. Just happy to hear her voice and see her smile through her tears.

Hands land on my shoulders from behind and I do not have the awareness to know who's nor do I have the strength to strike out. Instead choosing to turn my head and find Leliana's kind blue eyes, filled with concern looking back at me. “I think you'd better sit down.” Is all she says her gaze casting warily over the crowd.

Reaching up towards my face I take Merrill's hand in mine, needed the physical connection, frightened to break the illusion of her presence by letting her go.

Leliana leads me into her seat and Merrill reclaims her chair, at my side. Leliana takes the seat opposite me and I see her keeping her vigilante eyes on the patrons of the tavern. I will find time to thank her later for her attempt to keep our limited privacy and explain my extreme reaction to Merrill's presence but all I manage right now is to return my gaze to my sister.

“I never thought I'd see you again.” The words leave my mouth without thought. “How long have you been in Kirkwall?”

“We took ship, shortly after fleeing the Brazilian forest.”

I laugh to myself, if they had the same reaction as I to being at sea I truly pity the pore captain that gave them passage. “You've been here the whole time?”

Our reunion is interrupted by the Rivain across the table. “So I take it you two know each other.”

We both look over to her just as Leliana gives her a sharp look which is completely ignored by the smirking pirate.

“Merrill is my sister.” I answer, being of no mind to fire any sort of witty retort.

“Oh.” Leliana's reaction is immediate. “I thought...” She trails off, leaving me to finish her thought. There is little doubt she thought us to be old lovers. Merrill was a very skittish child, having been passed from one clan to another for her talents. As the older sibling, even if not by blood, I had taken it upon myself to calm her where I could. I learned very quickly that physical contact and acceptance were two things my young sister craved above all else. This all resulted in our expression of emotions to be more physical than verbal. I am aware, even if Merrill is not, that for an outsider looking in our innocent touches can be seen as something much more jaded. Even the clan at times did not see our interactions to be as pure as freshly fallen snow.

Thoughts of the clan brings my questioning eyes back to the dark haired mage still gripping tightly to my hand. “Where are the others?”

Both her bright smile and her gaze simultaneously fall. “They are camped on Sundermount.” She answers simply.

I feel the lines of confusion crease across my forehead. “Then why are you in the city?”

“I left the clan.” She states, the tempo of her speech increasing significantly with nerves. With great effort I stay silent, knowing that by her nature she will explain in her own time. “They didn't understand. They couldn't understand. You were gone and I was so... alone. I searched for you and they didn't understand. When I needed more power I found it and they didn't understand that either.”

“How did you get more power?” I quietly ask almost dreading the answer.

“I...” She stops and pulls herself away from me. Her shoulders hunch over her tiny frame giving me the impression that she would love nothing more than to curl herself into a ball and rock herself to sleep. After fidgeting for a short time she lets her eyes meet mine, then reaches down to the lose sleeve around her arm and pushes it up to her elbow.

The moment her flesh is bared to my sight I feel my whole being deflate. Ageing scars and freshly healing wounds cover her skin from wrist to elbow. “Oh Merrill.”

“Please don't be angry with me.” She says immediately.

Reaching out I take her exposed arm in my grasp, running my thumb gently along the one of the deepest longest scars. “What spell was this for?”

“You know what?” Isabella's voice reaches my ears once again from over the table. “I think there's... something. Over there, that I just have to stare at. Leliana?”

The bard catches on very quickly and even goes as far as to lean back in her seat and look over to where the pirate is pointing. “That does look interesting.”

“It does doesn’t it. So we'll just... go over there and....” Isabella’s sentence is never finishes and she hastily rises from her seat, takes two steps before retracing them to revive her drink. As quick as a flash they are both gone leaving us the illusion of privacy in such a public place.

“Isabella is nice. Isn't she?” Merrill says, trying to defect me from my line of questioning.

“Very.” I answer, knowing that this will move along much quicker if I acknowledge her subject change before dragging her back. “What spell did you cast for this scar.” The pad of my thumb runs along the raised flesh a second time.

“The Eluvian. It needed to be cleansed to find you.” Strange how such softly spoken words can make me feel like I've been stampeded by a heard of rushing Halla.

“The Eluvian?” I did this. I caused this with my own stupidity. My own near-sightedness. If I had just stood my ground and not allowed Tamlen to pull me down into those stupid ruins. I would never have found that fucking mirror then I wouldn't have had to leave the clan in the first place. “You're angry.” She says, her face pulled into a worried frown.

I had not realised that my grip on her arm had tightened to such a degree when my temper had flared and I reach out with my other hand, intending to stroke at her cheek to calm her nerves.

Without warning, it feels like a clamp is bearing down on my wrist and I am yanked away from the mage at my side. Swivelled in my seat and pushed back, so the small of my back pushes painfully against the edge of the table. Cold steel touches my throat and I find myself staring into cold, colbalt blue eyes filled with pure rage. Is it just impossible for me to walk into a bar without getting into a fight? “By the Maker who are you?” The mysterious human woman bearing down on me asks through gritted teeth.

Adrenalin rushes through my body as I look along the longsword held in the grasp of my attacker. With this timely direction I am able to push down my raging emotions from only a moment ago. Letting a smile play on my lips. “You are truly courageous against an unarmed opponent.”

The human above me if quickly forced to tilt her head to the side, as Leliana's blade sides through her shoulder length black hair and beneath her ear to rest against the artery in her neck.

“You're timing is impeccable my dear.” I say, felling the steel move with my words against my throat.

Leliana's laugh reach my ears. “I am almost insulted that you expected anything less.”

“Stop it, all of you.” Merrill's panicked voice hits my ears and even after so many years in her company she can be somewhat unpredictable.

I hold out my hand flat in a universal sigh for her to stop. “No Merrill.” Where Leliana in a situation such as this I can predict, she will remain calm and focused. True to her bardic training. Merrill will not. She will panic and with a razor sharp blade pressed so deeply into my skin one wrong move will have me redecorating these dreary walls with my own blood until I have no more left to give.

The human holding me captive suddenly looks very confused. “You're an elf.”

“Was it the ears that gave it away?” I ask, sarcasm dripping from my words.

Unhindered by the blade at her neck she turns towards Merrill. “Are you okay?” Now that is interesting, she barely flinched when Leliana's cold steel touched her neck. The threat against her own life secondary to Merrill's well being. This realisation halts my biting words at the very tip of my tongue.

“I'm perfectly fine Hawke.” Heading my warning Merrill stays back as she speaks. Gesturing with her rapid hand movements that she would very much wish to physically separate the two of us. “If you could just...” There's something in the mage's voice, in the way she neither commands nor pleads with this human. There's something I'm missing, something really big. I'm usually good at this stuff.

The humans eyes travel from me to Merrill and back again for a few moments. “What's going on?” Her grip on her sword falters, the change is small but I notice it, the tip of the blade pulling less than an inch from my skin. “There's something I’m missing, isn't there?” At the very least I can take pleasure in the fact that I am not the only one.

“Lyan is my sister.”

Those little words are all it takes, almost immediately the tip of the blade drops from it's threatening position to rest on the floor. After a few seconds Leliana's knife is also removed and Hawke's hand travels under her ear to inspect for any damage. “You have a sister?” Hawke asks.

“Not by blood.” She says, for some reason needing to clarify that fact. “But close enough.”

The muscles in Hawke's jaw twitch under the skin as they tense. “I see.” The frown pulling her eyebrows down to hood over her eyes contradicting her words.

Adjusting my back so it no longer presses against the table at such an uncomfortable angle and resting my elbows against it's surface, I lean back to observe the interaction between the two. Merrill's hand closes over Hawke's, which is still gripping the hilt of her sword. Her grasp loosens and Merrill takes the blade from her hand to hold it loosely between her fingers. It suddenly dawns on me what is happening and I have to restrain myself from slapping my palm against my forehead at my own stupidity. However I am unable to stop my jaw from going slack and the small exclamation of 'Oh.' from passing through my lips. By the Dread Wolf I’m blind sometimes.

“Oh?” Merrill imitates in question.

“Yeah 'oh'.” I say reaching over to Leliana to retrieve a blade hidden at her hip. Merrill's familiarity with the human makes me feel safe enough to turn my back on her swivelling in my seat to face the table. I take up the almost forgotten bottle of wine and run the sharp edge of the small knife through the thick wax covering the cork. It peals off in one long strip which I swiftly drop to the table before pushing the tip of the knife into the cork and begin to work it from the neck of the bottle.

Leliana take a seat opposite me. I am unsure if she knows there is no longer any need for privacy between Merrill and myself or is she is worried that the tall warrior will attack again. Either way I am grateful for her presence. She rests her elbow against the table and covers her mouth with her curled hand, to hide the smile I can see shining in her eyes. Clearly she had judged the exact nature of the relationship between Merrill and Hawke much sooner than I had.

After a cautions look over Leliana, Hawke unstraps the shield at her back and rest it against the table before sitting by Leliana's Side. Chewing nervously on her bottom lip. Merrill sits down at my a side again and I can feel her eyes on me. “Just 'oh'?'” She asks, caution laced through her voice.

“I was going to leave it there.” The cork pulls free of it's confinement an I smile in triumph. Then frown when I have no further distraction from this conversation. Casting one more glance over to Hawke, I try to get some sort of read on her, frustrated when I can't get one. Not many would brave sitting next to my beloved, moments after being threatened by her. “So...” I start pouring the liquid into the tankard and placing it down in front of Hawke, relishing the surprise on her face. Then swiftly turning to Merrill. “When did you grow up?”

“Not that long ago.” She replies. “You're not angry?”

“Me?” I scoff, taking up one of Isabella's spent tumblers and pouring another drink into it. “You were the one always fixated on Elven Lore.” I place the wooden container in front of Leliana, knowing Merrill will understand the action. “I thought you were going to be angry with me.”

Merrill only smiles at me then turns in her seat to cast her wide green eyes around the room. “I wonder what Isabella could be looking at.” She turns back and directs her question towards the bard sitting across from me. “It must be very intriguing... I'm sorry I don’t remember your name.”

Leliana's eyebrows raise slightly at Merrill, her eyes swivelling in their sockets to my smiling face. Confirming to her that, yes, Merrill can be that oblivious at times. “Leliana and it was...” She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “... Indeed a pleasure to look at.” She finally says with a grin.

I know that with me in a pubic place and in such an emotional state her eyes would not have left my vulnerable back. Her swift intervention a few moments ago to quell my confrontation with Hawke is enough evidence of that. “Flirt.” I accuse quietly, placing a drink before my sister before finally pouring one for myself.

“The Leliana?” The warrior takes this moment to speak. “Companion of the Hero of...” Very slowly I watch as comprehension falls across her face. “Oh.” Her eyes open as wide as saucers and I have to brace myself for when I know is to come. “By the Maker I'm so sorry.”

“Please don't call me that.” I say sharply, taking a long pull on the wine in my glass. “My name is Lyan.”

“But you're the Hero of Ferelden.” She's just not getting this is she? “You quelled the blight and saved thousands of lives.”

I feel my teeth grind painfully for a moment before Leliana steps in, placing her hand over Hawke's forearm, which is resting on the table, to attract her attention. “Hawke. Please don't start a fight over this.”

“I don't understand.” Hawke says, stating the obvious. The way her eyes dart from Leliana to me and back again is enough to prove her confusion. “Do you just not want to be recognised?”

Taking a deep breath I try not to let her words get under my skin. “I coerced my best friend, to give his virginity to a possibly evil, defiantly manipulative apostate. Who he could not stand the sight of. Which may or may not have spawned the source of all evil. Just to save my own skin.” I take a pause, only to try and push the painful memories to the back of my mind. “Does that sound heroic to you?”

“Not exactly.” She says nodding her head, presumably at some point understanding must have washed over her. “Now when you put it like that.”

“No.” I say, getting tiered of having to recount my mistake to everyone who enters my life. “Didn't feel very heroic at the time either.” I go to take a drink only to find my cup empty. “So you can call me Lyan, Mahariel, Warden. Knife ears. Or even 'Oi stop steeling that lamp.' Just not hero. It's not me.” reaching across the table I take up the half empty bottle and pour myself another generous helping of wine. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

I can see questioning glances exchanged around the table, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. No matter how many minstrels tell the story of the last blight no one ever hears the truth of why both Alistair and myself survived that final battle. They make up some such nonsense of how we lived through shire force of will or loyalty. Or they simply forget to mention, the fate of a Grey Warden when they deal the final blow to an Archdemon.

“How could an apostate with child, prevent your own death?” Hawke asks, after a few moments of blissful quiet.

Under the table, the sound of clattering metal is so loud it silences all around us and Hawke's cry of 'Ow!' as she reaches under the able to run her hand over her injured shin, has me tuning my head in Merrill's direction. Who is currently wearing the most innocent expression she can muster, under the circumstances, keeping her sights set on Hawke. “You were being oblivious.” She says by way of explanation.

After a few seconds of stunned silence I burst into uncontrollable laughter, which racks my body so violently I drop off my seat onto the sticky floor.
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The First's Sister