Chapter Text
“I am the Witch of the Wilds!” Jaena’s clear voice called out over the brambles and tree branches, “Watch as I turn into a magnificent eagle and soar!”
Valthorn watched with horror as the girl swan dived off the grassy hill crest. She dove deftly, gracefully tucking her body under her at the last moment so she landed with barely a disturbance to the pile of leaves on the forest floor. He ran over to her side, barely breathing until he saw her emerge, laughing, from the underbrush.
His concern was lost in a tumble of giggles and soon the children were laughing heartily at her reckless abandon. Then in a flash she was off again, racing through the forest with him close at her heels. They knew the forest trails intimately and could follow its twists and turns, fallen logs and caverns practically with their eyes closed. It was the way they spent every free moment of every day that they could. Two small elves, enraptured by childhood, dancing through a wooded world that was all their own.
“Caught ya!” he yelled as he leaped down from an overhanging tree branch. His hands caught her shoulders and pulled her down with his weight until she gave in, laughing with delight. They rolled to a stop in a soft grassy area, both children gleefully panting for air. She tried to get up but he pinned her down grinning with victory.
“You wouldn’t be so mean to me if you knew what I could do,” she said.
“Oh, is that so?”
“Yes, it is. It just so happens that I’m a witch.”
“Not all that again! Next thing you’ll tell me is that Flemeth herself has been teaching you tricks when the elders aren’t looking.” She blew a puff of air into his face from his jest. “Well prove it then. If you’re really a Witch of the Wilds, turn me to stone so you can escape!”
She wriggled her fingers at him but nothing happened. “I can’t! I don’t know how to control it yet…”
“Ha! I knew you couldn’t do it because you’re not a real witch!”
She writhed against his grasp as she tried to escape. He held fast. She took a deep breath and channeled all of her inner energy, focusing on Valthorn and his smug expression. She imagined a bright blue spark leaping to life until it wasn’t just in her mind anymore.
Zaa-aa-ap!
“You… you shocked me,” he stammered, a glimmer of awe in the accusation as well.
“I’m sorry!” She said. “I didn’t know if it would really work. I never made one that big before. I’ve never even showed anyone else. I just discovered… I mean, sometimes it just happens…”
“Do it again,” he whispered, the pain entirely forgotten now.
She cocked her head, trying to ascertain whether he was serious or not. He was. She took a deep breath and pushed a lock of her reddish brown hair out of her face. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her fingertips together and felt the energy spark into being once again. The concentration was written over her whole small being: the rigidity in her hands and arms, eyes closed, her chest unmoving with the breath she held. When she opened her eyes again, there were little lashes of blue light that flickered between her fingers. There were there for only a moment and then they winked out of sight. She took another deep breath, exhausted.
“You really are a witch,” Valthorn said breathlessly. She watched him intensely before they both broke into wide, toothy grins.
“Just a little one,” she admitted.
“Well I think you’re the best elf witch ever!” He bounded up onto a fallen log and shouted, “Our enemies beware, or the mighty Jaena shall strike you down as they stand!” They laughed at his dramatics as he waved his arms and made crackling sounds, pretending to cast enormous storms and lightning bolts all around her.
“Valthorn, stop it! Get down from there!”
He jumped down and stood beside her, anxious over her suddenly serious expression. “What’s wrong?”
“Promise you won’t tell anyone – anyone, Val.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze now. “You know we’re not supposed to have magic. Only the Keeper…”
He laughed off her concern by putting an arm around her. “Jaena, of course I won’t tell anyone. How could you think I would do anything to jeopardize you? You mean the world to me.”
She smiled shyly as they started walking through the woods again. “I know you wouldn’t. I just… I’m scared about what will happen if the elders knew. They might make me leave the camp – that happens sometimes, you know. They might make me… stop being a witch.”
“Can they do that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. But there must be some way they control who can have and use the power of magic.”
He turned to her, taking both her hands into his own. “Well, I don’t care what anyone says. You can be my witch forever, and I promise that I will protect you with every breath I have.” His bold statement seemed to touch on something older and wiser than he, something eternal and life-changing. It was a promise he didn’t fully understand but was willing to undertake all the same. “If you want to, that is.”
“I do,” she promised back without hesitating at all.
He grinned. “Then we have nothing to worry about.”
***
The days gave way to nights, and the weeks gave way to months. And whether the woods were full of sunshine, rain, or snow, the two elves were there beside each other to learn of the mysteries it held and to love one another. They held their secret between them, privately giggling and delighting in it but ever vigilant not to reveal its presence to other. They loved the privilege that it gave them; it set them apart and it strengthened their own bond.
And secret it was until one day late in autumn, the year before Valthorn was to become an apprentice hunter. Becoming an apprentice was the first step to becoming an adult in the clan and Valthorn was preoccupied with the thought of it, as nearly every adolescent in camp was. Jaena was preoccupied herself these days but not for the apprenticeship she was still too young for. She had convinced the master crafter of the camp to create a magic staff for her and it was all she could think of or talk to Valthorn about for the last two days.
“He probably just told you he’d make you a staff to get him to leave you alone,” Valthorn grumbled as Jaena ran up ahead of him. “How do you know there even is Ironbark out here? It’s just a legend.”
She skipped along farther ahead as if she hadn’t heard him. Together they had wandered farther into the old forest than he could remember being before. He glanced up at the canopy of trees above, the filtering light from the sun growing dimmer by the minute. He could be sitting by the fire with the older boys right now, admiring and practicing with their bows, he thought. But instead he was shivering out somewhere in the woods tagging along beside Jaena on a fool’s quest.
“It’s out here – it has to be!” Jaena called back to him. “He wouldn’t just let children wander off into unknown dangers… not unless he knew it was possible to find.”
“Well I’m sure he didn’t think you’d really go after it!” Valthorn shouted. She turned around, hurt, and Valthorn caught the glimmer of something guilty in her eyes. His own eyes narrowed with understanding. “He wouldn’t have let you go after it unless he had reason to believe you’d find it. Not unless he knew you actually could do spells… which he doesn’t, right?”
She looked at the ground. The sound of the insects buzzing in the underbrush nearby suddenly seemed loud in his ears. He repeated the question and moved closer to her when she still didn’t answer. “No one knows you have magic except me. Right, Jaena?”
Her bright green eyes glimmered in twilight. “I might have showed him a little spell. But it was just little! And just because I wanted him to help me.”
“Aneth ara! Jaena, what were you thinking?!”
“I… I wasn’t!” She sank down to her knees, recoiling from his anger. “I’m sorry, Val. I’m sorry!”
“Three years Jaena!” The words came suddenly tumbling out, one over another. “For two years I’ve kept your secret! Even when it felt like I was bursting with it, I never said a word! Now you go and tell the craftsman – of all people – just so he’d give you what? A… new toy? And you’re sorry??”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to face him, tears shining in her eyes. “How long do you think it’ll be before the whole camp knows? He’s probably off telling the Keeper right now!” Then the full force of these implications fell on him. He dropped her arm and stared down the empty forest trail. In his mind’s eye, he saw the adults of the camp circling the Keeper in that moment; telling them that Jaena was a danger to the rest of the elves and that Jaena must leave. Fear gripped his heart. “What if you have to leave our tribe? They take mages, Jaena. And we never see them again! Is that what you want? Is it?!”
“No!” She shouted back at him. “No! Of course I don’t want to leave. I just…. The magic’s getting stronger, Val. I don’t know how much longer I can hide it.” Then she added, so quietly he could barely hear her, “I don’t think I want to hide it anymore.”
“Fine, then. If you want to go be a mage, then go.” He let go of her arm and started back the way they came. Anger glinted maliciously in his eyes as he called over his shoulder. “I’m not helping you destroy your life with us here. If you want your Ironbark so badly, you can find it yourself.”
“Val, wait!” She crouched there, stunned. It took a minute for her to realize that her friend was actually leaving – leaving her alone here in the wood. She staggered to her feet and ran to catch up to him. Her hands tugged at his arms, but he turned away. He didn’t want to hear her begging him to stay and help her. When he would not stop, she started crying harder, telling him she was sorry, so sorry, and please – please! – wait.
Little blue licks of lightning flickered into being, lacing around her fingertips and racing down her arms. A cloud of static formed and rose above her head, stretching up into the tree branches and crackling the dry twigs. The lightning sparked more fervently as her distress grew. When she reached for him again, a blue bolt struck out and hit his shoulder.
He cried out in pain and whirled around, seething. He saw her standing away from him, huddled and miserable, tears streaked down her face and her breathing racked by sobs. The sight of her in such disarray finally broke the hold of his anger. His beautiful Jaena, he thought. What have I done?
He moved closer to her, arms outstretched and remorseful. She closed her eyes and willed the lightning to disperse. With some difficulty, she succeeded. He wrapped his arms around her, comforting her and apologizing over and over. They cried together there in a chilly wooded evening. “I’m just so afraid of losing you, Jaena.”
She nodded her head against his chest and he tucked a reddish brown braid behind her ear. “I’m still your elf-witch,” she whispered. “Right?” At this, he found a way to smile.
“Always,” he said as he leaned down and put his lips on her forehead. It was a soft, kind act and it sent a thrill down their spines though the stirrings of love and lust were still comfortable years away.
But as he held her, there was a rustle nearby. He turned toward the noise, alarmed, and out of the shadows around them armored templars appeared. There were three of them, wielding large, gleaming swords. Without giving himself think to think he grabbed Jaena by the arm and shouted for her to run with him. They took off down the forest path as fast as they could.
They didn’t get far.
In a single burst of will, the templars seized Jaena’s magic and she crumpled to the ground, jerking Valthorn from his pace. He stumbled and nearly fell as her suddenly dead weight knocked him off balance. The shock left her breathless and gasping on the forest floor. Valthorn shook her shoulders, wild with terror but she could barely move, let alone continue to escape with him. Unmoved by the children’s desperation, the templars moved in. One grabbed Jaena by the arm while another grabbed Valthorn, breaking their embrace.
“Jaena!” Valthorn screamed, reaching for her still as they carried her away. He struggled against the thick metal armor but the templar’s hold was too strong for him to resist. The knight looked down at the boy from behind his helm. In a moment of compassion he lowered Valthorn back on the ground. “Go home, little elf,” he said.
But there is no home without Jaena.
The templar turned to follow the others but Valthorn rushed at him instead. He pushed against the thick armor and hit his small fists against it, heedless of the pain or the consequences of his actions. Valthorn only felt what was in his heart as he yelled and begged for his friend’s return. When the templar regarded him again, he had sympathy for the youth.
The templar called out to his companions and then crouched down to talk to Valthorn. He tried to tell the elf that they were actually helping his friend; she would be safe and grow up well in their care. Though the knight meant well, his speech did nothing to still the racing fear in Valthorn’s heart. His distrust of humans – especially armored humans who abducted his best friend in the world – outweighed any singular comfort of the templar’s words. Not to be dissuaded, the knight took off his helm, revealing himself to be youthful himself, with short brown hair and expressive eyes. In this way Valthorn finally found a truth he could understand. It was written plainly in the man’s sympathetic eyes: there was no choice but to accept. Alone against the knights and the encroaching dark, he had no chance of saving Jaena. With this finality, Valthorn began to cry, heartsick and far from home.
The templar stood and wiped his eyes quickly. After a moment’s consideration, he placed a gauntlet carefully on Valthorn’s head and whispered an incantation. The distraught child slumped and fell into the templar’s outstretched arm. He picked up Valthorn and looked upon the boy’s face, tear-streaked and flushed with despair. Valthorn was breathing deeply, quietly, at peace in his oblivion. In an act of unusual tenderness, the templar carried the child, safely cradled in his arms, back the way the two elves had come following the children’s footprints on the muddy forest path.
***
It was late into the night when the templar entered the Dalish camp, Valthorn still in his arms. The templar’s magic has long since worn off but Valthorn, miserable and exhausted, had not attempted to free himself from the knight’s arms. A ways out from the camp they encountered the night watch scouts and were guided back to Valthorn’s home aravel.
The knock on her door brought Valthorn’s mother in an instant. She’d been awake late into the night waiting for her son’s return. Upon seeing him cradled limply in the templar’s arms Delilah feared that he must be dead. The cry stirred Valthorn from his fitful sleep and he rubbed his eyes groggily. Delilah took him into her arms nearly smothering him with her relief.
Only after her initial shock wore off did Delilah start to realize the gravity of what had happened. Two children had entered the woods and only one returned. Knowing how tightly bound the two children were to each other, she was suddenly fearful of whatever occurred that tore them apart. The templar stood patiently apart from them and she knew that his presence was the answer, though he was kind enough to remain silent until she was ready to hear it.
She intended to take Valthorn inside the araval and put him to bed before discussing the matter further but he refused. He squirmed against her grasp, intent on staying awake and hearing what she heard. “I want to talk to the templar, too,” he whined. “Jaena was my friend and he took her away! Make him bring her back!”
“Fine, Val.” She sighed, exasperated and as tired as he was. “But you stay right here on the steps and don’t move. I’ll be back soon.” Her eyes were fierce now and dared him to disobey her. He didn’t, instead tucking his legs up beside his chest and leaned against the door. He fought against the drowsiness that tried to pull him under again.
He watched her walk back to where the templar was waiting. He was disappointed when they talked in hushed tones too low for him to catch any of their conversation. After a few minutes his mother left to fetch the Keeper. The templar glanced over to Valthorn and a sense of dread and embarrassment rose in his chest. He was older. He was supposed to watch out for Jaena but look what had happened instead. The longer the adults talked the more he convinced himself that he was the cause of their anger. He kept replaying the events in his head and hearing Jaena’s anguished cries for him to help her. If he hadn’t been so quick to anger… if he hadn’t made her so upset… There were a hundred things he wanted to do differently in retrospect. Valthorn would have given anything in that moment to reverse the events of the night and have Jaena here beside him once more.
After what seemed like an eternity to him, the templar bowed and began to leave. Delilah and the Keeper spoke a moment more before she returned to her son. She picked him up and carried him inside to his bed. He buried his face against her warmth, clinging desperately to something that would ease the ache of shame and loss inside of him. She held him close but she felt distant, her face lined with worry.
She laid him down in his bed and pulled the warm blanket up around him. The pull of sleep was so strong he could barely understand the slowed world around him. He looked up at her sadly. “Are they going to bring Jaena back soon?”
Delilah blinked, trying to form the right words to say but found she had none. “No, Val,” would have to suffice. He could not object to this any further because, under his mother’s watchful gaze, he had fallen fast asleep.