Blood. Her blood. It coated every pore, every inch of his skin from the elbow to fingertips as he knelt before the sky altar. It was the second time in which he had to endure the ritual. The first time he had gone through the trouble of cleaning himself up, but not this time. He knew what had to be done and the sooner the better as his heart couldn't take it. The familiar ache in his chest turned every breath into a painful struggle, forcing him to clench his jaw in resolute silence and suppress the urge to unleash a torrent of curses against the gods.
On the altar lay a woman sleeping peacefully, finally, after hours of immense pain. The screams of her raw agony still echoed in his mind as he was unable to provide her any comfort in her last hours. While what he had shared with this woman paled in comparison to the passionate love he had for his first wife, she had nonetheless served as a steadfast anchor in his life, earning his deepest respect and affection. Their union had been primarily driven by political considerations, a decision made in the wake of the profound heartache he had experienced following the loss of his first true love.
Though she was dutiful, not even the task for which she died offered any solace as both failed to save their child. Worse was that she lived long enough to feel the pain of their loss, holding the little bundle in her arms as she passed, whispering to it that she be along to join them in the sky soon enough.
When the last rights, prayers and offerings were completed for the mother, it was the child's turn. The swaddled motionless bundle was placed in her arms so both would return to the Lady together. The Keeper of the Dead, an old frail woman who moved at the pace of those she served, had no words for her Thane, instead leaving him to his own mourning. Cullen cast his eyes downward unable to watch as she unwrapped the tiny bundle so that the Sky-Mother's children could find him. It was a boy this time. As the ritual began again, guilt ate at him causing him to peer up at the baby. Even if the grief would be too much to bear later, he owed it to his son to be looked upon, loved and remembered by his own father. Hot, angry tears streamed down his face, his heart heavy with the bitter question of why the gods had cursed him to suffer this twice now, as if once wasn't enough anguish for one lifetime.
Long after the ritual had ended, with lifeless forms awaiting the embrace of the Lady of the Skies, the Thane found himself lost in contemplation of the bleak path ahead. His return home would be to solitude once more, a place devoid of joy and unnervingly silent. What was there left to fight for? Why go on when every new beginning seemed to lead to more heartache and despair? He couldn't bear to start over, not again. The tormenting memories of his former wives' suffering, their piercing screams, had seared into his soul, haunted his dreams and jolted him awake in cold sweats. No, he vowed, he would never allow himself to love another, for it would be crueler to hold on to someone and condemn them to the same fate. Instead, he would marry himself to his duty as Thane, taking comfort in the knowledge that in it he could hurt no one.
***
The Wintersend celebration was upon them. Since their talk after the kidnapping a week ago, she and Cullen had hardly spoken unless there was no avoiding it, and even then, it was curt and to the point. Rosalie tried to speak with her to help smooth things over, but there was nothing to be done. She needed a miracle to save her from the fate to which she was condemned. Marriage was unavoidable. She knew it, but that didn't mean she accepted it, and in true Evelyn-fashion she resisted it. Neither Cullen nor any man within Redhold would have her and if she was captured she made the difficult decision that she'd rather end herself than be bound elsewhere. If the gods heard her each night she proclaimed it aloud to the sky, as Dhara instructed, then they would intervene on her behalf or risk losing their beloved people.
She was sure the Hold Spirits had heard her and told the Thane her will, which is why he stayed clear of her. To preserve his Thaneship he needed to marry her and as each day grew closer to Wintersend, she saw a change in his demeanor. He had left the Great Hall on a low, defeat clear on his face, but as the days wore on, he stood taller, his eyes were colder, and she had a feeling he and his inner circle were planning something for her.
Mia was hanging around his longhouse more, which didn't sit well at all. Like a dragon defending its nest, she stood guard out front on the steps glowering down at her while Evelyn was shopping at the market. When together, the eldest Rutherfords could've glared the Archdemon back into its hole in the Deep Roads for another age. As that day when they sparred and she saw cunning calculation in his eyes, for she was the only thing standing in the way of him continuing as Thane of Redhold. Back home, if he were a typical noble, she would've been easily dispatched either by arranging the marriage with her father, trade embargos, threats or even murder. Of the Avvar intrigues that she witnessed, both had been child's play compared to that in the Lowlands, and knowing this Thane, he didn't play games. The more she thought about it, the more she realized he was planning on forcing her despite his promise.
The celebration and their deadline before fate took control of their destiny was tomorrow. Nervous they'd take her by surprise, she stalked through the village observing the Thane, yet aside from him also watching her carefully, nothing seemed suspicious. Her eyes caught sight of Cassandra passing through and she quickly caught up to her. The tall warrior came to a halt hearing her name and eyed her and then the Thane who remained watching from where he was, "May I have a word?"
"Yes," it sounded more like a question, unsure of what she had just involved herself in. As Evelyn led them off toward her home, she threw a defiant glance back, knowing Cullen was still watching, wanting him to know that whatever game he thought he was winning, she was well aware something was afoot.
Opening the door, the two women sat in front of the fire in an uneasy silence. Evelyn, however, stared at her with an unmatched resolve, readying to begin her line of questioning. "Cass, you know why I've asked to talk with you, right?"
She sighed, looking over at her friend with a hesitant, yet guilty gaze, "I'm afraid so."
"He's planning on forcing me to marry him, isn't he?" No answer, just another slight cringe noticeable only around the eyes, "I knew it. It's alright, I don't want you to feel as if you have to split your loyalties, I just want to know what my options are when the time comes. That's within my right to know, correct?"
She nodded, with some relief, "I suppose it is."
"So, tell me, on what grounds does he claim me?"
"On the grounds that you are a stolen bride from the Lowlands."
"But Kitsa was the one who brought me here. Surely there is a law--"
"The Thane is the law, and if he wanted to he could force you without reason as you are not Avvar. In the eyes of our people, you have no rights." Evelyn stood and paced in anger, "But," she stopped, "as you said, Kitsa brought you to the Hold. Because of that, it is within your right, even as a Lowlander to challenge him."
Her eyes lit up, "And what is this challenge?"
"You can demand he proves his strength and commitment through another hunt. If he fails to capture you, then he forfeits his rights to you."
"So, I just run? Outside the walls?"
"Depends how difficult you want to make it. In the past, some have made it easy, just doing it as a romantic trial, others have engaged in fierce combat coming back in need of a healer. You can even fight him to the death, but that is rarely seen." She looked hard at her, noticing Cassandra was serious. Part of her wondered if Cullen had purposely planned things this way, especially when he could force her without question. He either lost his command or he'd die nobly in the line of duty. The thought made her feel a stab of guilt, but she needed to remember that it was she he was wronging.
"I see. Thank you, Cassandra."
"May I offer some advice, as a friend?" She held out a hand signaling in confirmation, "I implore you to think this over. I know you don't have much time but, consider your options. You may not be free to choose as you will, but he is letting you choose from the options before you. Cullen is a good man and would be a good husband to you. If you accept him, very little will change, I suspect, but if you refuse, the gods will take you away from here. Do you truly want to temp such a fate?" She huffed, knowing the wisdom of her words. Cassandra stood and headed towards the door, "Keep in mind you don't have to challenge him right away. Between the time he claims you until the knotting ceremony, you may issue your terms to him. I pray the Lady blesses you with clarity of mind and strength of heart, my friend." They exchanged knowing smiles before Evelyn was left to muse on her options. She had two days.
***
As hard as he tried, Cullen wasn't ready for Wintersend and the changes it would bring. Thankfully, Mia was feeling extra authoritative and opinionated helping him to steel his nerves for what must be done. He knew his duty to his people and his family, but forcing the Phoenix to marry him was proving hard for him to accept. It wasn't right, it wasn't how he wanted to use the authority given to him. He wanted to be better than the other Thanes, and for a time, he was, as she said so herself when she chose Redhold as her home. He promised her, and even if no one else had heard it but them, it didn't matter; it was a pledge given to none other than his future wife.
Mia had a lower opinion of Evelyn and was a bad influence, but he needed her cold, emotionless council if he had any hope of following through with it. Ros and Bran listened skeptically, shooting pained looks back and forth, but he ignored them. This was for survival; both for his clan, his family, and for her. She needed to fulfill the prophecy and the only way to ensure she was not taken, harmed or raped was by joining with her. Why couldn't she just understand that? If she did, it would be a simple matter, but no, the gods had to send the most stubborn, prideful woman in all of Thedas as their savior. Yet, any lesser woman would have already died or worse in the Basin. No, she needed to have a resolve of Everite and a spirit of fire to see her through her trial.
She would hate him, but as Mia guilted into his head, he was poised to lose so much more should his sentimentality interfere. Would he let something so insignificant as her feelings and good opinion stop him? So, what if she despised him? He was committed to never having another wife again for it wouldn't be fair to her. His heart no longer beat with warmth it once had. After enduring the heartbreaking losses of his wives and children, after living through this nightmare twice, something inside him had died. The memory alone hurt too much, not to mention the night terrors. How do you stop the ebb of your wife's blood as her innards are spilled before you or try everything in your power to get your child to take one breath? Sure will alone cannot do it, nor however much strength you possess. Had he known the gods would curse him twofold, he would've never been so selfish as to think he could have a happy family of his own.
There was one problem with all of this, and that was that the Hold Spirits had told him she would be his last chance to possibly have children. It was a possibility, not a guarantee. This endless circle of thought consumed him, eating away at his nerves. Could he endure if he lost them again, or could he live with himself never having even tried one last time for the thing he wanted most in life? The Spirits seemed to think so, but they were also dead and unfeeling. He supposed such a decision didn't have to be made right away, so long as he bound her to him for the time being.
The plan was in place, and if all went well, she'd challenge him. She was far too smart not to try and seek out her options or assume that he was just going to let her go. Her resentment for him ran so deep he was sure she'd try to kill him. It was all or nothing; he would either prove to the clan, spirits, gods and himself that he was still worthy of Thaneship, childless or not, or die with honor in battle with the Phoenix.
***
The Hold had just finished their midday meal and the village cleared as the clan went home to dress for the Wintersend celebration. Earlier, the village was buzzing with activity to prepare to start with the offerings and rituals by mid-afternoon. Rylen had been gone most of the week leading hunting parties to hunt as much game as they could as provisions were dwindling as winter neared its end. Unfortunately, the other clans were also out scouring the land for enough food to properly thank their gods and give the people some much-needed diversion. They encroached upon Redhold's land in pursuit of more game and several skirmishes had broken out between the hunting parties. Each day leading up to Wintersend, they came back more battered than the last. At one point after Rylen came back with a nasty blow on the back, she asked if she could accompany the groups purely to use her magic to scare the other clans off, but it was met with a stern no. They were not going to chance one of those hunting parties turning into a war party once they figured out she was helping their hunters.
Rosalie hadn't given up on trying to mend the divide between Evelyn and her brother while she and Dhara helped her prepare for the feast. Happy to distract her by speaking of her beau instead, she listened to stories of their pure and sweet love. Despite the age difference of about six years, for all the time she spent with Rylen and Rosalie it was easy to picture the two as a couple. Dhara had already known their secret, as both women were the same young age of twenty-four and had been friends for years. The two of them made her feel old the way they talked about the world and men, still having some of their innocence preserved unlike her. Fate, however, had taken such naivety from her at eighteen, and by the time she was their age, she was hardened and jaded.
When such dark thoughts pulled at her from the depths of her mind, she remembered that the monster who wronged her was dead at the start of winter. There was at least one thing to be grateful for as they welcomed the end of the season. With a ceremonial role to play, and an inkling as to why, aside from the given explanation of 'well, you are The Phoenix,' their instruction provided her with some distraction from the Thane's machinations. She was to assist Cullen through the prayers and offerings that he had to perform, as was the duty of the Lady of the Hold. When she mischievously asked why then she was to perform it when she had no such title, they gapped, stuttered and Dhara even answered her in Avvish with a guilty smile. The older mage simply shook her head at them. Cullen was clearly going to give her his terms for marriage before the ceremony, but he was running out of time.
After they had gone over what was expected of her one last time, they departed for Dhara's home for some light fare and a bath. With their usual flair, the two women made fun of her want for privacy, disregarding her wishes. They sat snacking on various nuts and goat cheese while Evelyn soaked in the aromatic water. Rosalie set to asking her about each and every scar she accumulated from her face to her navel. While it did pass the time, it only made her think about what a turn her life had taken from just a few short months ago. Mid-soak, her friends disappeared to get dressed themselves before coming back to assist her. By the time her fingers turned to prunes and her cheeks were rosy, they had returned and ushered her out to begin dressing her.
Dhara was dressed as she always was for any religious festivities, in pelts and skins of just about every animal who called the Basin home. Her wild copper hair waved out from under a headdress made of a lion's skull and fur. While she began mixing paints, Rosalie was unfolding what Evelyn assumed was her outfit for the night. It looked similar to the one she was wearing herself, but it was grander with more elaborate embroidery. The first layer was a shift made of light linen, as it was explained to her that the Great Hall becomes rather stuffy when the dancing picks up. This was followed by an airy linen dress with a deep neckline that was trimmed with a scalloped lace made from the same material. It was ruched at the waistline, adding texture to the plain maroon fabric of the dress. It was a good thing too, with only two thin layers of material over her breasts it left little to the imagination. The last layer was a golden mantle made from a lion's pelt. It was a few inches shorter than the dress and belted at her gathered waist adding slightly more warmth to the ensemble.
Back home for their Wintersend ball, she would've simply worn one of her usual dresses and the servants would've done her hair in the latest Orlesian fashion. In Redhold, however, things were slightly different. With the two women in on the Thane's plan, they had secretly made her a matching dress and headdress. Clueless, when no other than Cullen himself knocked on her door just as she had finished putting the attire on, the look of humiliation and horror that graced her face could not have been matched. Their clothing had the exact same pattern and colors. He wore a full lion skin draped off of one shoulder accompanied by a maroon shirt and dark pants with furs covering the front and back of his bottom half. She groaned outwardly and rolled her eyes while everyone else seemed rather pleased with themselves.
He eyed her attire, tilting his head to the side with a huff, "Ros, you have outdone yourself again, though I don't suppose maroon is her color. Not when her cheeks are constantly flushed like that."
Her nostrils flared, and if her face wasn't red before, it was now. "Is there something we can help you with, or did you just come here because you have a death wish?" The fire in the hearth behind her cracked and spit embers into the air.
"If ye don't mind Evie, I rather like to keep my home from catchin' fire tonight." The two of them ignored her to glare at one another.
"Actually, I'm here on business." He stepped inside and shut the door behind him as Dhara scrambled to clear off a bench where they had placed various pieces of their attire that they had yet to put on. Leaning back and crossing a leg as if he owned the place, she took a deep breath knowing what was coming and preparing herself to receive it with all the grace of her former station. She could hear her mother's lessons reciting themselves in her head. If he had met her dear mother, he might seriously just consider letting her walk away before he condemned himself to becoming her son-in-law. That thought alone helped temper her ire.
"By all means, don't let our preparations keep you from this business," laced with sarcasm, the other two women bit their lips and kept their eyes on their work. Rosalie had started doing her hair, and Dhara had various earthy-colored clay paint globed on a small tray that was well used for this specific purpose. She swirled the brush in the black paint that she had made using some charcoal that she scraped off a pot from inside the hearth. Starting with thick strokes down her nose and curving up towards the outer corners of her eyes, she worried at just what was happening to her clean face.
Ignoring the proceedings before him, his face was unreadable and his voice was monotone, "Phoenix, Evelyn Althea Trevelyan, by my right as Thane of this Hold, I…" he paused for a moment, and she watched the muscle in his jaw flex and his cheeks flush, "I hereby claim you as my stolen bride from the Lowlands." She mimicked his façade and held it as the tension in the air grew. Dhara mixed the paint with urgency and Rosalie was finishing weaving the braids into a crown atop her head. A long thick lock was left to hang loose over her left shoulder.
"Is that so?" She gave him an intensley fierce look, but didn't let it taint her droll tone, "Very well, if it pleases you." Now was not the time to issue her challenge. Like Cassandra said, she could do it any time, and she would pick her time wisely - or if he made her mad enough. She had been expecting this for days, and while hearing the words was frightening, the initial shock and rage had long been processed. Exploding into a tirade in front of these two young women wouldn't be right - Rosalie being his sister and emotionally fragile, and Dhara who idolized Evelyn as a mage.
Cullen's brow twitched having expected a more dramatic reaction, "Good. I, ah, I'll be outside for when you've finished then." She didn't acknowledge him further as he exited the hut. The next few minutes passed in silence as they finished her look for the evening. She used the quiet to steel her mind for the night ahead. This was a night of revelry and giving thanks for making it through the harsh winter, and she wouldn't ruin that by making it all about her. If the Thane could act civilly then so could she. In fact, she'd show him she wasn't just wasn't some crazy fireball thrower, but the lady she was raised to be - one her father would be proud of. Finally, able to see the artistry done on her face, she was surprised when she saw her eyes and nose had been made into a lovely pair of avian eyes. The line drawn down her nose was the artist's rendition of a beak, without overwhelming her face. It was mostly black, but she added some white and raw umber shading and embellishments.
"It's beautiful, thank you, Dhara." She smiled gleefully and slowly the heavy veil lifted from their moods and they resumed their chatter.
When they had finished their ministrations on their future Lady, Rosalie went to fetch her brother who had been waiting nearby with the rest of his council. When the three of them stepped out, she was met by warm smiles from all but her betrothed. Rylen was painted from head to toe in reds and browns wearing only their traditional fur covering around his waist and on his feet. He took in Rosalie with such a smitten look, she had to hold back an 'aww.' If only there was a man here who looked at her like that…
"You look like a true Avvar. It suits you," despite looking ready to fight her final battle in her armor accented by war paint and a similar lion pelt over the shoulder as the Thane, the fierce Head of the Warriors nodded her head in approval.
"Thank you, Cassandra," Evelyn anwsered with a small but sad smile.
As they spoke, Dhara had gone to the Augur's side, whispering in Avvish to him, It was only then that she realized his eyes were completely white in a magical trace of some kind. "Phoenix," his voice was low and flat, garnering the attention of those around him in his heightened state, "a gift from the Lady comes to you." Everyone froze listening and looking about, with the exception of Evelyn who cringed thinking of the last gift bestowed upon her by Hakkon. A gust of wind kicked up followed by the squawking of a large flock of birds overhead. Their black silhouettes glided quickly past dropping something before they disappeared. It was light, fluttering down as it if weighed nothing. As it got closer she reached a hand up, watching what she could see now was a thin rectangular shape flip and flop in the breeze. Her heart pounded when the folded parchment rested between her fingertips.
Trembling slightly, she brought it down to eye level and turned it over, "The Trevelyan seal." She grazed a finger over the raised wax knowing that it was placed there by her father, wanting to feel a connection with him.
Holding the letter in position to break the seal, the Augur stopped her, "Not yet. The Lady wishes for you to feel the sacred forces of the sky and earth before laying your eyes upon the words." Her lips parted slightly at a direct request from the Lady of the Skies. She looked at the small parcel one more before tucking it into a pocket into her belt for later. "Now, let us begin, " he led the procession to the doors of the Great Hall. Cullen offered her his arm and she hooked them together without thought or resistance. The Lady made it clear wants her to focus on the spiritual energy of the night and not their petty squabble, so she would play her part and open her heart in the hopes that the gaping wound left by the Maker could be filled. How was she to explain it to her father?
The doors groaned as they opened and the Augur baritone voice rang out through the hall as he announced the arrival of their Thane and Phoenix. The crowd hushed with anticipation as it had been several years since a woman had graced his arm. As they strode to the dais, she listened to the whispers whirling around the room over her presence beside him. They spoke excitedly of a coming wedding, the power she would wield over the Hold, wondered at how the Thane could choose a deserter and Lowlander as his betrothed and other petty comments about her rise to prestige within the clan. She almost tripped when she heard someone say she seduced Cullen, who apparently had heard the same comment and the two of them fought the laughter trying to break free. At least they could find some common ground at the absurdity.
When they reached the Thane's throne, for lack of a more rustic term for it, she realized there was nowhere for her to sit. Strolling to the side, he caught her attention clearing his throat quietly, drawing her gaze to the thick arm of the chair. Her look deflated, though none but he could see as she eyed him with exasperation. She was to be placed like a prize beside him. With a deep fortifying breath, she spun slowly and sat on the arm with as much poise as she could muster. She let one-foot rest on the ground and crossed the other under the stabilizing leg for balance. Her hand rested neatly in her lap and she sat tall as if she had done this a dozen times before. Cullen on the other hand, sat comfortably on an actual seat and muscle memory caused his arm to rest directly behind her bottom. When his fingers brushed her, his hand shot up to her back but then retreated back again and again until she slowly turned her head and shoulders to look at him. Blinking a few times though her face remained a serene mask of calm, her message got across to him and he simply placed it on his thigh.
Settled now, the first half hour was dedicated to the telling of tales and hymns to the gods. The children sat in front of the large fire pit in the center as Dusan and Dhara walked about it taking turns in passing down oral histories and tradition to the younglings. Dhara was especially good at it with her unique flair and Evelyn now knew why this mage in particular was chosen as the Augur's apprentice. They spoke in both tongues, but the majority was done in Avvish as the material was sacred in nature. When it was time for the offerings, Cullen stood and she now focused on her one job for the evening, taking his arm again to be led to the altar.
The first offering was to the Mountain-Father, given to the flame by the Thane, while she led the clan through the ritual for the Lady of the Skies - the same one who apparently gave her a gift early. The feel of the paper through the two thin layers of linen poked and prodded her as a constant reminder eating away at her curiosity as to what her father had replied back to her. Would he order her home? Tell her she was being foolish? Or perhaps he saw to paying off the Chantry? Dhara summoned her to the altar and feeling guilty at having not paid attention through Cullen's part, she set her jaw and began as they had shown her.
She had committed to her mind the hymn to the Lady and recited it flawlessly as she threw the offerings to the flame. Her intimate relationship with the fire causes it to reach out to her as if magnetized. It tickled her fingers, and she had to wave it away at times to leave her to her work. The clan saw it as well and reacted with ooing and gasps when she fondled it unaffected by its scorching touch. When she finished, a large shallow bowl of water was held up to her. It was simple rainwater that was collected for rituals as it came from the Lady. She was to take a sip, followed by Cullen before it was passed around to the entirety of the clan. As her lips touched the bowl's rim, her eyes peeked into the waters, but instead of seeing herself, a woman pale as the moon with midnight black hair was looking back. She held herself still, but after blinking two more times, she was gone and her own reflection had returned. Drinking quickly and standing back for the woman holding it to pass it to Cullen, she looked a bit unnerved over at Dusan, who smiled back at her knowingly. A chill ran down her spine, and was thankful that they had but one more god to pay tribute to.
To honor Hakkon it was much the same except instead of meat, it was blood that was offered. She watched as Dusan helped Cullen with his sleeve, then felt a tug on her own. Looking over, Dhara was waiting seemingly to help her. Confused, though hiding it well, she submitted to being led along. When both had the skin of their forearms exposed, she saw Cullen had a long thick scar running from his palm to elbow that she hadn't noticed before. Evelyn's eyes widened ever so slightly when Dhara leaned in to whisper that it'd be quick and not to worry. A double-edged blade was held by the Augur between them, and as he chanted it glowed softly with magic. Sure, what's there to worry about, she thought as she swallowed hard. The two faced each other and together their hands and forearms rested against the blade. She held her breath awaiting its bite, hoping the Augur's magic would protect her from bleeding out. When the blade was drawn down, their arms met as blood flowed steadily off their elbows. The sting lingered uncomfortably and she immediately felt dizzy, trying to remember to breathe. Cullen held her gaze firmly, assessing her as the Augur completed the prayer. The warm trickle of their mingling blood was an indescribable sensation. When it was done, Dhara separated them and held her hands to their wounds sealing them. The blood on her hands she used to paint streaks from her chin down her throat.
"Do as I do, we do everything together," he whispered over to her. Following Cullen's lead, they were to do the same as Dhara, as they each dipped their pointer and middle fingers into their joined blood. With a good amount coating their digits, he pressed his hand on the indent at the top of her chin, as did she on him. They tilted their heads back exposing their necks and drew two lines down to the center of their chests. Her fingers scraped along his stubble then over the point of his Adam's apple, dipping down once more before being guided the rest of the way between the muscles of his chest. The same flush of heat she felt when he had held her after being kidnapped returned as his finger glided smoothly down stopping between her breasts.
Thankfully, that was the last of their duties for the evening as their blood was passed around. It symbolically represented the passing of strength from the Hold's leadership to their people. Soon, the voices of her clansmen joking about having lathered her blood on them echoed through the hall, saying things like their blood felt as if it were on fire or that they hoped to be protected from flames as she was. With the rituals and offerings complete, it was time to change the Great Hall over from a temple to a banquet hall. Everyone worked together to set up tables, chairs and benches as plates of food and barrels of libations were carried in. It was a series of practiced maneuvers executed with speed as the smell of the long-awaited feast wafted around the space. Though extravagant in Avvar standards, any occasion where they gave thanks to the gods, even in times when their winter stores were low, was celebrated to the fullest.