Chapter Text
Caristania Trevelyan was just four years old when her mother found her playing with the wisps circling her bed. Purple lightning crackled between Caris’ fingers as she drew shapes in the air: first a star, then a heart, and finally a circle that encompassed all three of the light green wisps and drew them towards her. When she noticed Lady Trevelyan standing in the door, a huge smile formed.
“Mama, come play with us!” She had cried, ebullient, from her bed. She had been ill these last five days with a fever that refused to break, even with ice, elfroot, and the best healer from the Circle. Pale, unresponsive, and very small in her four poster bed, her parents had started to question whether they should invite the Revered Mother to say the last rites and guide their daughter to the Maker’s side. This morning, however, the fever had broken and the youngest Trevelyan was in fine spirits.
Lady Horatia Trevelyan stood, blank faced for a moment, then turned on her heel, slammed the heavy wooden door, and marched down the hall. A plaintive, “Mama?” followed her exit.
Upon reaching her destination, she crashed through the door and angrily whispered, “Did you know?”
Lord Trevelyan looked up from his notes briefly, saw it was his wife, and returned to his research.
“Markus, did you know!?” Horatia wailed, tears starting to leak from her eyes.
“You know I can’t work when you’re shrieking this way, Horatia,” he jotted down one last notation and looked back up at his wife, unimpressed, “Did I know what?”
Horatia sank into a chaise, covered her eyes, and replied, “Your daughter. She is a… a.. She’s a mage.”
Markus paled and abruptly stood from his desk, “What? What do you mean? Elinora, she isn’t… She couldn’t be…”
But Horatia shook her head, “Not Elinora, Horatio, it’s Caris.”
Markus frowned, “This is a poor joke, Horatia. Caris is only four, much too early to be showing signs of magic. She is also very ill. How could you say such a thing? Is this to punish me for not attending your fete last week? You know I was…”
“Markus!” Horatia interrupted, “Caris is throwing lightning and playing with spirits as we speak.”
Seeing that Horatia believed her own stories, at the very least, Markus pushed through the door of his study and marched up into the tallest tower of the Trevelyan estate. It had not made sense to put the youngest child into the tower, but no one had been able to resist Caris’ face when she had pleaded.
Opening the door with trepidation, Markus looked upon his youngest daughter and sighed with relief. She sat up in her bed, pouting, but with no evidence of lightning, spirits, or other magical nonsense. It seemed to be another one of Horatia’s flights of fancy.
“My darling, it is so lovely to see you awake,” Markus said, sitting on the end of Caris’ bed, “You had us all very worried. Nurse was loathe to leave your side for the last five days.”
“I know, Papa, she was here when I woke. She said she was going to the kitchen for treats, to celebrate,” Caris glanced up at Markus, tears lurking in her pale eyes, “but Papa, where did Mama go? She left so fast.”
Reaching over to brush her tears away, Markus replied, “Darling, your mother is very confused sometimes. I believe she was just overwrought from your illness. She will rest and be right as rain, you’ll see. Do you believe me, love?”
“Yes, Papa, I believe you,” she brightened then, and said, “Mama didn’t want to, but maybe you can!”
“Can what, darling?” indulged Markus, stroking his daughter’s bright shock of blond hair.
“Play with my friends!” Caris cried with a smile, as wisps appeared, as if by magic, and danced in the air. She giggled while Markus sat, aghast, with his hand upon his youngest daughter’s head.
…
It hadn’t taken long after that. The Trevelyans are, after all, a good Andrastian family. The Templars were called. Lord Trevelyan had at least enough influence to request a Trevelyan. Many cousins served in the Chantry, and Ser Padrach, his nephew, was a gentle soul, who Markus knew would care for Caris as if she was his own. When he arrived at the estate, flanked by two other masked Templars, he simply nodded at Markus and asked, “Where is she?”
Markus led them silently into the vestibule off the entrance hall, where Caris, bundled into many layers for the chill Ostwick air, was complaining to her nurse, “But, Nurse, I don’t understand. I was supposed to ride Chubby today, and Tomas is coming home to visit later this week.”
“Well, my little flower,” the nurse replied, brushing Caris’ hair back from her face, tears in her eyes, “I suppose Elinora will have to ride Chubby for you, and Tomas will know where to find you.”
Caris made a disgusted face, “Elinora? She won’t pick out his hooves or groom him right or anything! I think I had better stay just to make sure Chubby is okay.”
Nurse sighed and replied, “Do you remember what we talked about earlier? Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to, in order to honor our Maker and his Bride, Andraste.”
Chastened, Caris answered, “Yes, Nurse. I haven’t forgotten, but it’s just…”
“Well then, Lady Caris, you had best button your coat and hug your father goodbye,” Nurse said as she pushed Caris towards Lord Trevelyan.
Running into his arms, Caris asked, “When am I coming home, Papa? Will it be a long time?”
Aching, Markus replied, “Oh, my darling,” as he scooped her into his arms and squeezed as hard as he could, “I have faith that you will return to us when it is time.”
He put her down and noticed that she was near tears. He asked, “Caris?”
She looked up at him and replied, “Mama isn’t going to say goodbye, is she?”
Markus, throat clogged and unable to reply, simply shook his head. Nurse bustled over, straightened Caris’ jacket, and said, “No matter, flower, you had best get going. Ser Padrach is here, dressed in all his finery, just to escort you.”
Padrach smiled, knelt down, and held out his hand, “That is just right, Lady Caristania. If you take my hand, my friends and I will take you on an adventure.”
Caris looked suspicious, but curiosity won out. She took his hand, and he began to lead her out. Nurse and Markus followed and, right before they exited, Caris looked back, with tears in her eyes, though, of course, she was too young to understand that she would never be able to return to this place or see her family again.