Chapter Text
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Prologue: A Parents Hope.
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My name is Darren Amell.
I write this journal as a personal accounting of my actions and choices during the Fifth Blight, and the ultimate conclusion of the Battle of Denerim.
Although the first thing that I should really start with is both simple and horrendously complex in nature. 'Darren Amell' is not the name I was born with. No, to protect both my family and myself, I was only named Darren. Later, just as I was taken to the Circle, I was gifted with the name of 'Amell' by a young Seeress mage shortly before she took her own life to avoid a fate worse than death by her own hand.
Ah, no. I am still getting ahead of myself.
I realize now that the beginning does not start with me.
No.
It all begins with my Mother .
My Mother was one of the few that could be called a True Seer and not one of the many frauds that ply their wares in Orlais using clever trickery or ties to the Crows or the Bards 'network' to give 'validity' to their claims of Sight. Like most True Seers, she had started having visions of the future at a very young age. Young enough that her parents, my grandparents, took her to the Chantry to see if there were any other signs that she might be a Mage in truth and not just a Seeress. As a result, she was cloistered for several years within Chantry walls before they finally confirmed that she was, in fact, not a Mage. She was released to go back to her normal life by age fourteen.
Do not think me jealous. I'm glad that she was allowed to return home. Not only because I was born, but due to the because True Seers are a rare breed in Thedas. The Sight is tied to magic. It is, in fact, a subset of magic that tends to run in bloodlines with strong magical ties, so most Seers are also Mages. It is a very rare thing indeed for a Seer to not be a Mage. That Mother was able to return her family without any problem and was only asked to pass on any extensive Visions to her fellow nobles and the local Chantry was a Maker-sent blessing on more than one level.
And yes, I said 'fellow nobles.'
Mother was a lesser noble at court. The daughter of a well-off merchant family that had been around for several years. A family that had made a name for themselves by being reliable and discreet with their more scandalous wares.
And my Father?
Oh, now that's a funny little story.
You see, when my Mother was young, she had Seen who her husband would be. Actually, I should say that she Saw several potential suitors that she might choose to wed. Given that little advantage over said suitors, she was able to decide who she liked early on in her life. As such, she had turned aside all other potential suitors as they came forward and focused instead on 'The One' that she'd felt was her ideal husband.
The man she had chosen based on her visions was a stubborn man, tall and brave. A man who had done much for Fereldan during the Occupation of Orlais. One who was respected by many and reviled by others, mostly Orlesians for the latter. He was not the type to seek a frivolous marriage, and he'd had many a request along those lines. He considered most females of Nobility to be; 'typical noble, air-headed women that were focused on jewels, dresses and titles' more than the realities of life around them. 'Frilly' or 'soft' was not how one would describe my Father, war-hardened as he was.
And so my Mother dogged him in the best possible way to win his heart; by being his friend above all else. That was what he needed in a wife. A friend, a companion, a confidant. Someone who could keep him on his toes physically, mentally, and verbally. A woman who knew not only how to act in polite society to help him navigate the oft treacherous waters that were the political arena, but also a partner who knew how to fight, how to argue, how to stand on her own two feet. Now Mother hardly ever had needed to fight. Once the war with Orlais was over, there was less fighting to be had save for the usual bandit attacks. Still, though she wore a dress most day, she practiced with her blades daily. My Mother could be deadly. She had known how to fight, and fight well while wearing a dress.
Which is impressive when you think about it. Dresses, like robes, can be cumbersome things to fight in.
Mother did admit to my Father from the beginning of their relationship that she was a Seer. Later on, he'd confessed to me that he had openly scoffed at what he had believed to be nonsense. 'Useless mysticism' he had called it. Most of the things that she 'Saw' and advised him about seemed, to him, to be issues that only needed common sense to see the truth of. Something like, 'You need railings on that bridge dear, or someone will fall in the river' or 'I'd look closely into that servant's background dear, we don't need a Bard in the household.' To him, there was nothing mystical about her observations, but he still listened to her, and, in most cases, he took her 'vision' laden advice to heart.
Eventually, after saving his life from something that could only have been halted by someone having actually foreseen the event, he began to believe in her abilities. He started to heed her words as more 'this needs be done' as opposed to a 'wisely thought out suggestion to be considered.'
The only warning that Father did not initially heed was the one regarding me.
A warning that, in the end, he had no choice but to believe...
My parents had married in the Spring, and afterward, Mother had advised Father that she would have me that upcoming Winter.
At first, he was pleased with the thought of having a child so soon. A son to carry on the family name at that. He'd been amused too. Mother was so very confident that they would have a child early on in their marriage. Rather than allow him to make an announcement, however, she had warned him that it would be best to raise me in secret. To let everyone believe that I had not survived the birthing process.
He'd been shocked, of course. Why would Mother say such a thing? Why should they not rejoice in their good fortune?
But she was firm and had told him, and later told me that by the time I turned four, I would have my first Vision. Once I turned six, I would reveal to all and sundry that I was a Mage in an act that, while needed, would tear me away from my family. From there, she'd told us both that I would face two paths. One would end in death for so many. The other, while hazy, could spell survival for most of Fereldan, if not the world.
The consequences of keeping me? Of claiming me openly as their son? Of claiming and keeping me despite being a Mage? That was the darker path, one that ended with not only the ruin of our family but the death of nigh on everyone living in Fereldan.
The second path that she had Seen was steeped in lies and clever half-truths. Of hiding me behind layer upon layer of illusions and falsehoods. This path alone would lead to our family, our country, our very world having a chance to survive the Darkness that lay before us.
Of course, as I said, Father had not wanted to believe Mother's Vision. From what Mother later confessed to me, they had argued quite often about it. Well, more that Father had railed and roared mightly about it whenever they were alone, with not even a single servant, around to hear his express his upset. Eventually, they made a small deal. Mother told him what she had Seen of my coloring, how it would change within days of my birth. He would consider believing her Vision only if things happened as she had Seen.
I was born with dark-blue eyes that turned a pale-blue within three days and a shock of red hair that I had inherited from my Mother's Father. Just as she had Foreseen.
Father had been understandably upset.
That his son, his Heir, his firstborn , could very well be a Mage, or a Seer at the very least, was not good. Mages in most of Thedas, outside of Tevintar at least, were looked down upon. As such, he had not wanted to believe her Vision. He had argued that, if her Vision was real, then she was placing a horrible burden on an unborn child. That their child would, supposedly , be the key to saving... well, everyone ? Suffice to say, it took quite a bit of time for her to convince him. In the end, it was his own nature that undid his arguments.
You see, 'Duty' was not just a word that was slung about willy-nilly for either of my parents. Even an unwanted duty. And was it not the Duty of all Fereldan born to protect their country if they could? Not only that, but enough of my Mother's Visions had come true that he knew that he could not just ignore her warnings.
So they raised me in secret. Oh, Father continued to hope that they could simply pretend that I had been too sickly upon birth for them to announce my presence. It was not an uncommon practice amongst the Nobility to do such a thing when a child might be lost at any time, and the parents wanted to be sure of said child's survival. The precedent was there. So, he had hoped... only to have that hope dashed against the stones when I turned four. I had my first Vision. Just as Mother had predicted.
I'd obediently gone to tell my parents about it. Less out of some sense of youthful Duty and more out of fear and worry. What I had Seen... was not pleasant for a small child to experience.
Like all Visions witnessed by a True Seer, I can still recall every detail of that first Vision...
I had Seen myself being led to a Circle Tower by two Templars. There was a young girl, around twelve summers or so, walking placidly at my side. She, my Vision told me, was also a Mage and a Seer. Though, while I had been provided for and loved even as I was hidden in plain sight, her own family, her Mother especially, had hated her for her magic and foresight. No, looking back, I believe that 'hate' had been to mild a word. Her Mother had Loathed and Cursed the girl for daring to have magic despite the knowledge that magic ran in their family.
I had also learned that the girl had Seen, or perhaps would See if she had not already, her own death. She was to die in the very Circle that we were being led to. The girl would tell me in hushed whispers during one night on our journey about demons taking over the Circle. She knew not when, or even how , the demons would be loosed upon those within. She only knew that they would end up killing and torturing almost everyone living within those halls. Even warning or trying to prepare the Circle against the threat would amount to nothing when there was no way to know how the attack started. Nor did she know how many would survive the attack, as she would be one of the first slain.
That she had Seen, or would See , her death meant that she had decided, or would decide , not to live out the rest of her life in a cage. To face anything from a swift dagger in the back, a lengthy torture session at the hands of a demon or the blade of a panicked Templar? No. Death of her own choosing would be better. She also knew, instinctively, that somehow I would be safe from this event. That I would not be one of the demons many victims. She told me, she would tell me, that she had Seen great things ahead for me. Great, but not necessarily all good . And so she decided, would decide, to gift me her family name, Amell, so that I could hide behind the name of another's family to protect my own. One more layer of illusion to keep them safe.
As you can see, Visions regarding future events can get confusing when you start thinking about present versus past tense, especially when another Seer is involved. Writing out that last part was a bit mind-numbing even for me... so to whoever is reading this, thank you for bearing with me as I tell my story.
To continue, the Vision shifted after that, jumping by either days, hours, or perhaps only minutes. I was not sure at that point how long the trip would prove to be, nor was I certain at that time that I was being led to the Fereldan Circle. Still... somehow, someway she would successfully attack the Templars that were with us without using magic. In the end, they would be forced to kill her in self-defense. She would then thank them as she died for their kindness in ending her life.
The Vision had ended as I watched the Templar's faces fill with shock and horror at what had happened.
As I said, I shared the Vision with my parents right after I had it. Not only had I promised Mother to talk to her if I Saw anything, but it had been a very upsetting vision for any child my age to have had. Bluntly speaking, I was a mess and rightfully so.
Father fretted for hours over the Vision.
The part of him that had held out hope that I would not show signs of magic and that he would yet be able to reveal who and what I was to him with the excuse that I had been 'very ill' withered a little bit at a time.
Father had been quietly devastated when I turned six summers old.
The event that had revealed my magic and quite publicly at that? It happened just like Mother warned him.
I'd Seen a venomous snake being placed within our home, near the place my Father usually idled during parties. The person's hope was that Father would be slain by the serpent. In the Vision, the blasted thing was successful, though thankfully, none of the other guests would be harmed by the time the dangerous, frightened animal was caught and slain. Now that I look back upon the event, placing a snake in the middle of a large party in the hopes that a single person was killed? Downed right inefficient and a damned good way to get a lot of innocent people killed.
At any rate, this Vision was not one you get about an event years down the line. No, this was one of those 'this will happen very, very soon' kind of Visions where you only have minutes to react. As such, I had darted past and through the crowded ballroom. I'll admit I upset more than a few guests because of my mad dash.
I'd shouted at him as I ran, a shout of 'M'lord!' and not 'Father!' ringing through the are. Even then, I knew the dangers of calling attention to our shared blood. I'd then instinctually sent out a bolt of lightning to kill the snake as it had been just about to strike his un-armored leg. Had I been but a second late, Father would have died.
There is no known cure to the venom of the Nevarran Dragon-Viper.
Following that, the nobles had to be calmed down and calmed down swiftly. Many of the guests had feared that I had been the one trying to kill Father. With effort, Mother's kind but firm tones, Father's angry baritone, and the voice of one the other nobles that was simply known to me then as 'The Teyrn' filled the large room and calmed those gathered within.
As one, they revealed the burnt and crisped body of the snake that had almost struck Father. The tide of the crowd had changed immediately in my favor as the three expanded upon my evident bravery.
I became the little, six-year-old 'hero of the day.' Indeed, humor filled the room when the 'The Teyrn' abruptly named me 'The Young Ser Mage' and thanked me for my quick thinking in saving a Noble Lord like my Father. He even joked that I should have been standing alongside them during many of the battles of their youth. Gruff but grim humor permeated the room and caused several people to laugh and joke around, tensions dying down to nothing just like that.
I found myself liking the Teyrn. He was much like my Father in temperament as they shared the same dry humor.
The Teryun figured me for the child of a servant, and my Mother was careful to say a few things that made it sound like I was an orphan that they had taken in when they had lost one of their servant girls to childbirth years ago. Which was true. We did lose a serving girl to childbirth around the same time that I was born. Mother's withdrawal from the public eye and the slight favor I was seemingly shown as 'the child of a servant' made it seem like her supposed loss of a child had led to her doting on me. She never said the words outright, but I could see the acceptance in everyone's eyes.
I knew enough at that age to not to be upset with them. It was a game for us. A long-term prank that we had practiced time and time again. But, years later, I will be honest here, however, and say that Mother's words to the party-goers did hurt. They cut me deep at the time, despite knowing it was 'a game' that we played at. Only Father's hand landing upon my head and a soft word of thanks was enough to still my tears before they could fall.
Even though he called me 'boy' and not ' son ' as he thanked me, I knew that he was proud of me. I could see that pride writ clear in his eyes. It was enough for me to know that I was loved.
Those last days together at our home... were filled with a kind of despondent acceptance. Father did not once blame nor rage at Mother or me. He was merely... saddened by the fact that he had to send me away. Being forced to avoid acknowledging me as he had hoped to stung mightily. That he would have to continue to treat me like an orphaned child of a servant? All to prevent me from being harmed or used against our family for power? All in an effort meant to keep our country safe from the danger that threatened us?
Oh, how he hated it.
Even now, I do not fault him for that subdued anger. A part of me still hates that this choice was needed. Though I understood, both then and now, just how important it was that I be where I needed to be when I needed to be there.
A part of me would enjoy being able to confirm those silly stories that the minstrels are currently spreading about; that my parents, an 'off' branch of the Amell's, had tried to keep me secret from the Chantry only to be quietly eliminated. Or the one where I'm supposed to be from Antiva of all places. I think there's even a far-fetched rumor floating around Orlais that I am somehow related to Empress Celene of all things.
As if.
The truth is nothing quite so grandiose as all that or... well, perhaps I speak too soon. Knowing one of my Blight-companions, she would likely spin some epic yarn if she ever gets a hold of this journal.
At any rate, days later, I had another Vision and, with a child's hope that I could somehow cheer him up, I told him... I told him not to worry. I told him that my sister would not be a Mage, and she would make him proud , just as I would try to do.
My words hit my Father like the fist of the Dwarva's Golem...
He broke down. Something that almost sent me, as a child, into a panic. He admitted to both Mother and I, that had he not been needed by our country, that if he had any less of a sense of Duty than what he did... he would have packed up our family and run for the hills never to be seen again. He told me that the only thing that prevented this action was his creed; 'A man knows his duty and does not shirk from it.' Something that had been passed down to him by his Father and his Father's Father before him. Something he had not understood until it was almost too late. He told me that I should take those words to heart. To learn from them.
I promised.
I swore to him that I would take not only his words to heart but also the words of Andraste to heart; That Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him.
To me, child as I was then and man that I am now, those words are philosophical and not to be taken literally. They are words meant to warn a person against letting their power and pride go to their heads. To remind Mage and non-Mage alike to not become tyrants that use their power for evil and foul deeds. Other words, powerful words, came to my mind then, and they echoed in my head like that of a Vision. I knew immediately that others followed those words and perhaps being told those words even as I spoke them to my Father in my childish attempts to reassure him and cheer him up.
I told my Father this; 'I will serve that which is best in me, not that which is most base. Power, regardless of whether it was the power of a Mage, the power of a Lord, or... or even that of a King , should not be abused. I will make you proud to call me your son, Father. Even if it is merely through my actions and my deeds and even if you can never acknowledge me to the public eye. I will make you proud to know me.'
Father had been, in a word, surprised by my little speech. I was six and still spoke as well as any other politely raised child did, but my words. He told me that my words were the words of a man and that even then, he was so very, very proud of me.
Father had pulled both Mother and I into a hug then, and... I realized as he held us tight that he was crying . It was the only time in my life that I had ever known him to weep. He was our Rock, our Strength. He had never cried before, at least not where I could see. I did not want to go, though I knew in my heart I would have to. The Templars had already been sent for. It was far too late to do anything but go to the Circle and make my way from there.
The Templars arrived only a few days later, a young girl of twelve summers already in tow. I knew her immediately for the Amell girl in my Vision, and she knew me for the Boy Named Darren from her own. We barely said hello to each other and had immediately clasped our hands together, like old friends lost and once more found. We would not be separated for most of the journey.
I found out that her first name was Lana, and we spoke softly of our Visions, both hers and my own, even as we spoke freely of our families. While we did not need to talk of such things, as both of our Visions had already given us much knowledge of the other, we still shared those items freely before we began to speak of more childish things. Formality if you will. The Templar's with us were kindly, the elders' name being Greagoir, and the younger man was named Talon. They did not stop us from speaking and befriending each other. Greagoir seemed to encourage it, telling us that every child needed a friend, especially when they were going to an unfamiliar place. It was comforting to know that these men were kindly in nature.
Lana told me softly that she hated that she would hurt Talon with her choice to die. He was new to the Order, and she had said that he would end up transferring out of Fereldan and go to one of the Circle's in Orlais because of his grief. What was to come would make him unable to remain within his home country.
I had asked her if what she planned was necessary? Did she really need to kill herself? She was uneasy, but she said that it was required. Not only did she want to die free of demons, but Talon would be needed in the Circle at Orlais that he would be sent to. He would find peace there in the years to come. If he did not leave, then he would die if he stayed; by accidental drowning. His help and kindness would be needed elsewhere, and he would find his purpose once he moved past the pain of her death.
'The Circle we were going to also needs this to happen,' she said. 'To forge his eventual replacement without her interference, a boy by the name of Cullen. His mind will be in a better position to heal if he does not know me.'
I did not press her further on what she had Seen. Her eyes had grown sad and wistful at the thought of this boy named Cullen, much as Mother's had when she told me the secret she kept regarding the darker Vision she'd had. Of what would have happened had she convinced Father to flee instead of stay . I admit I decided to share that same story with Lana to help her find peace with her choice.
To explain, Mother had told me just before I was taken by the Templars that our family could have forged a good, hidden life as farmers had Father taken us away.
But we would have fallen, all of us, my then unborn sister included, to a darkspawn raid shortly after I would have turned twenty-five summers. That raid would have only been the first of many such assaults. The beginning signs of a Blight that had the potential to overrun Thedas in its entirety. She did not go into further details regarding the Vision beyond that short synopsis. There was some nameless horror hidden behind her eyes at the thought of that particular path she had Seen, and I knew it frightened her mightily. I never pressed her for the details and, knowing what I do now , I will say that some horrors make death by the cruelest of tortures seem like a desirable end.
My Mother told me that the path that she had set me upon led to life if I was careful and mindful of my studies. I must be sure to study law, politics, fighting with a bladed staff or spear, and, most of all, war tactics. Out of all of the items on that list, only one stood out to me.
I asked her, 'why a bladed staff or spear?'
She, in turn, asked me in a teasing tone, 'what I would do if the enemy fought past the warriors and targeted the helpless Mage who only knew how to fight with his magics at a distance? Even dagger practice would be smart, yes?'
I'd admitted with a childish laugh that such a weapon would be a good idea when she put it like that. I did not want to be helpless if I was ever without my magic or if an enemy got too close to me. I'd seen her spar with Father as he wielded his greatsword whilst she used her bow. Only her daggers had helped her when he managed to get close. They had been... well, quite the fascinating pair to watch.
She'd suggested that I should have a sturdy metal core in the staff to keep the blades of any enemies I might fight from cutting the weapon in two. I'd joked with her and told her that her wisdom was on par with the Prophetess herself.
She'd laughed at my joking tone and had tickled me senseless before holding me tight for several long, long minutes in farewell. It was the last memory I had of my Mother, and I have cherished it dearly over the years.
I shared all of that and more with Lana to make her smile and laugh. Even though she had been happy to see me, I recall now that most of her smiles when we first met had been frayed at the edges, Sometimes her laughter had been strained and a little too high. Hearing the stories that I was willing to share, made her smile in truth, and had agreed with my Mother's wisdom. Sorrow had crossed her face, and she softly whispered to me that she wished that her Mother had been so kind and loving as my own. She did not tell me much of her own Mother beyond those words, but I knew things had likely been bad even before her magic had developed.
The very next night, Lana thanked me for my kindness and for being the friend that she had needed at the end of her life. She drew a dagger that she'd somehow kept hidden and lunged at the Templar's when we camped down for the night, and they were busy setting up the tents. Lana was unable to hit either with her first blows, but she got their attention and put them on guard, which was what she had wanted.
Greagoir kept his hands out and away from his sword. He had tried to calm her, but Talon had drawn his sword out of instinct due to the armed threat that she presented. Lana looked to Greagoir sadly and gave him a weak smile.
'I cannot go there, to your home. Things are changing, I've Seen it. I will die in the method that I choose and not by the cruel hands of another,' she told him with sorrow in her voice.
'We are here to protect you. We can and will keep you, safe child,' Greagoir said.
'You can't. You'll try, but you can't. I don't know exactly how it happens or when, but you cannot stop what will happen at the Circle. Be careful, please!' she took a slow breath and smiled, this time serenely. 'I choose my death. Darren!'
She turned slightly toward my direction, all whilst keeping her gaze on the two men.
'Listen to me. You must stay hidden from your families' enemies. You cannot bare your families' name. Not now. Nor can you go around without a family to tie yourself to. You cannot be without a family. Without a name. Without a heritage. You are an Amell now. As the firstborn Heir of my family, Mage though I may be, I claim you as Kin!'
That announcement had made me start in surprise even at my age. You must understand, I knew Lana would let me use her name, not that she would claim me as Kin . This, among adults in Fereldan at the least, is akin to accepting someone into the bloodline with full Heir Rights. IE; if all other successors died or if there are no immediate heirs to be found, the person claimed can inherit all that a true Heir would of someone's holdings. You need at least two witnesses, one of which who serves the Chantry in some capacity, to the event. We had that in the two Templars that stood before her.
'Do not falter, sweet boy,' she said softly. 'My Brother, you must keep true to the words you told your Father. The same words will guide the Hawk, and these words may yet save Thedas itself in the end. Keep true to your promise!'
She lunged at Greagoir without further warning and then turned at the last second to force herself onto Talon's drawn blade. He let out a choked cry as she pushed the sword deep into her chest. Her last words were a harsh whisper that could somehow still be heard throughout the large clearing.
'Do not blame yourself for this. I am a coward. Do not ...'
She slumped upon the blade, and the life left her eyes with cold kind of finality. Once the shock had faded, Greagoir thought it prudent to first search me for a weapon, and then, finding none, he did his best to comfort both myself and the profoundly upset Talon. Once Talon was calmed to an extent, the two Templar's worked to build a pyre. I found myself getting up and scrounging around for branches to help them, the largest I could manage to carry. The fire we built was small in the end. I turned and scrounged around as best I could under Greagoir's watchful eye to find enough flowers to make a small wreath crown for Lana's Pyre.
We stood vigil, the three of us standing at attention until the flames died down. Greagoir emptied a small box that he had, the box itself filled with lyrium potions which he handed to Talon, and then put some of her ashes within the small container and said a little blessing.
'I want to keep the box Ser,' I said to him in a soft tone the very next morning.
'I would return these ashes to her family, my boy,' came the gentle reply.
'You heard her Ser, I'm an Amell now. She claimed me as her Kin as her last wish,' I shuffled my feet. 'She told me... she said that her mum hated her, cursed her because of her magic. Was mean to here even before then, I think. I don't believe that she would want to have her ashes go back to her mum... 'cause I don't think tha' her mum would care 'bout 'em...'
Greagoir had looked at me thoughtfully for several long moments and then handed me the box with a small nod. He told me that I likely had the right of things and that it would be best to leave her remains with her 'chosen brother.' The look in his eyes, a careful and calculated look that reminded me of my Mother, made me realize that he knew that I was no servants' son. That he, and perhaps he alone, knew who my parents were and the value of hiding me behind another's name. I stared at him, suddenly frightened and nervous at the realization. He smiled at my worried look and patted my shoulder comfortingly.
'Don't worry, my boy,' he said softly. 'Things will be fine, Darren Amell , you will see. You're going home now is all.'
I nodded at his words, and he picked me up to carry me for the remainder of the long walk to the Circle. I kept the small box that held Lana's ashes held tightly to my chest. I know that I wished that my new 'Home' wasn't so far away from my parents. I know that I wanted to see them again soon and tell them that I was studying hard. I wanted to share with them stories of my fellow students or maybe silly stories about the teachers I would have...
And while I knew that none of those wishes could come true, I also knew that I would still make them both proud to call me their son.
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Whelp... While I have two other stories going, this one is jumping around through my head like crazy. I'm still working on the other two for Harry Potter and for Mass Effect if you would like to check them out.
Posting for my stories may end up being a little erratic, going through job interviews right now.
Still needing a Beta for my stories. If you are interested please PM me.
If you want any background for some of the things I want to try to do with this story, please look at my Bio.
This will be an 'Amell'/Morrigan fic.
A lot of other things are up in the air right now on pairings. Input will be welcome and reviewed. :)
a/n as of 04/14/2015
Also, please let me know if this flows better for you guys :) 04/2020
The 'Nevarran Dragon-Viper' is my own invention. I wanted to add a little detail to the snake. Who knows, it may crop up in a later story. ^.^