The moon hangs bright in the sky. The moon for which I was named. The moon I've looked at since I was young. It used to relax me. Looking up, thinking that it was the very same moon my mother looked at when she named me. The keeper spoke of her dreamy nature. Looking to the sky and imagining stories of grandiose adventures and handsome heroes.
That's what got her in to trouble he'd say. It took years of begging before I finally got the whole story, given to me in pieces over the years. Now it would play through my head like a story when I thought of it.
She met a brawny man in the forest one day. Most Dalish would be apprehensive of a human skulking through the wood, but mom thought he had a heroic aura. She watched him, his intense face searching for something. All of a sudden, he sprinted off. Mother, dazed for a second, took off after him. He ran, catlike, swiftly leaping over fallen logs and rocks, sliding around trees. His movements were effortless. She ran, head pounding, lungs on the verge of bursting. The human was outpacing her and she would soon lose him. She ran harder. Dots began to cloud her vision. She wasn't totally sure why it was so important to her to catch him. Barely in vision, she saw him leap over a rock and down an embankment. The embankment totally obscured his path. If she didn't get to the rock before he got too far she would never catch up. She gave it her all, as she vaulted the last steps to the rock and leaped on top of it. Gone. He was gone. She nearly collapsed and her heart sank. Losing the human seemed a great loss.
"Giving up, already?"
Mother whipped around, drawing her bow. It was the human. How had he sneaked up so close?, she thought. Her nocked arrow was practically resting on his chest.
"You move well for a shemlen," mother said. She knew she should be careful, but she relaxed anyway.
"I guess I do," he smirked, "but not well enough to dodge this arrow. 'Least, not at this distance."
"What are you doing in these woods?" she asked him.
"I was...uh...would you mind lowering that thing?"
"wh..uh...a...," stammering she realized she still had her arrow nocked and ready. A slip of the finger would take his life instantly. Her cheeks were red with embarrassment.
"Or maybe I could back up a bit. Give me at least a small chance of survival." His smile full of playfulness.
She lowered her bow.
"Now, will you answer my question? What are you doing in these woods, shemlen?"
"Bryce."
"Excuse me?"
"My name. I'm Bryce, not... shemlin?"
"Shem len," she said, emphasizing for clarity. "It's what my people call you humans."
"I see. May I ask your name?" he said, still smirking.
"Na...uh," she started. She visibly collected herself. "My name is Namaya. Now, will you-"
Bryce told my mother of a convoy from his family's estate that was attacked by bandits. Among the items stolen was a pendant his mother used to wear. Together they snook into the bandit camp and stole the pendant back. They went their separate ways but soon they were bumping into each other on a regular basis. Bryce was the adventurous type. He always had some adventure he was planning and my mom started to join him. She was living her dreams of adventure. My mom went on one of these adventures and was gone for months. When she finally returned, she was plump with child. She never spoke of the time she was gone and never mentioned who the father was. The keeper was sure it was Bryce but never pushed the issue. He was glad to have one of his own back and away from shem influence. Years later, when I was still little, my mother disappeared again. This time she didn't come back. The keeper said she was dead.
I stopped looking to the moon and looked around the strange, stone room. Looking at the moon, the warmth and familiar smell of fire in the room, I forgot where I was. In a room at Redcliffe Castle. My present worries come flooding back. Tomorrow we face the blight. I have many trustworthy companions at my side, yet I feel alone. Ever since the landsmeet, my days have been without their usual sarcastic wit. Without any joy. Without Alistair.
At first meeting, I thought Alistair was incredibly childish. The way he would defensively joke about everything. We quickly bonded over our love for our long gone mothers and began talking every night at camp. We would tell each other about our lives and our plans after the blight. He would speak like he was unimportant and incapable of leading. Each night, looking into those sensitive blue eyes, I wanted to tell him that he was important. That he could lead me to the end of the earth and I would follow. But I never spoke up. At times, his eyes would fill with pain, and I would just want to hold him. I feared he would reject me. Or he would feel emasculated in front of the others. So, I never made a move. Never told him how I feel. I almost did.
I was building myself up for days. Planning out my words meticulously. Figuring out how to get him alone. Then he dropped a bombshell on my plans. We went to Redcliffe and he told me of his royal heritage. He was a royal bastard. Worried that he would think that I suddenly wanted him for his power, I decided against telling him of my feelings again. How foolish I was! Maybe if I had told him how I feel, he would still be here. Maybe he would've understood my choices at the landsmeet.
Deciding I had spent enough time thinking of things I couldn't change, I laid myself down and tried to sleep. It was a long sleepless night.
