Can’t Fight the Moonlight
House Witch AU? In 2021? More likely than you think.
This is a plot point I was REALLY looking forward to getting to, but with the state of things, this may just be on its own.
Warnings for violence, discrimination, and mentions of past spousal abuse.
Selene and Felasel belong to @anyulavellan
Thenvunin belongs to @feynites
Rated: M
The first full moon following Ileth’s sixth birthday arrives in full force with a moon-restless six year old and familiar. Selene is busy with the twins and their…blessings, which leaves Serahlin on her own to manage her moon-blessed child’s energy. In the afternoon, Ileth becomes a whirling dervish of energy, running from room to room with his familiar, little motes of crackling magical energy emanating off of him. He eschews the stairs, instead opting for his gift to levitate up them instead. As the moon begins its ascent, Ileth grows worse. He cries to be outside with the moon, practically clawing at the window to be let out.
“Not tonight,” Serahlin tries to explain, “they’re watching us, da’len.” The Templars. Damned witch hunters have infested the town after Serahlin’s not so subtle performance at the police station (after they went to Ileth’s school and interviewed him without her permission, Serahlin tore into the department, her own magic cackling as she wore enchanted lipstick to make them obey her). She feels their eyes watching her house, and while they remain safe within its walls due to her wards, outside is another story. Ileth wants to dance and bask in the glow of the moon, which would only invite the hunters.
They can’t go outside, but they can't stay inside either.
A quick online search later and Serahlin has her solution.
“Get dressed, da’len, nice and warm,” she tells Ileth and he beams, relief clear on his little face. Ten minutes later, they are all in the car, including the familiars. Serahlin opens the sunroof, allowing the moonlight to fill the car. Ileth gasps and reaches up, mismatched eyes wide with happiness.
It’s a thirty minute drive, but for once, Ileth doesn’t complain. He hums a song Serahlin cannot place and stares at the moon. The cool night air fills the car and Serahlin feels some of the tension in her shoulders release as they speed down the roads, alone and quiet. It’s the nicest car ride they’ve had in a while.
Eventually, Serahlin makes a turn onto a dirt path, following signs for Bright Lights Drive-In Movies! Five minutes down the road and the light from the drive-in beckons them forward. Ileth shifts in his seat but doesn’t say anything, still watching the moon.
Serahlin pulls up to the box office and smiles at the teen working inside.
“One adult and one child for-
“Price is per car, ma’am. That’d be fifteen for one show, thirty for the night pass.” Serahlin hands over thirty in cash, fully aware they were not going home anytime soon. The gravel crunches under the wheels as she pulls into the drive-in theatre. The path angles down, following the gentle contour of a hill, leading to the flat open space before the towering screen. The open space allows for an unobstructed view of the moon, making Ileth gasp and strain against his seatbelt.
She glances in the rearview and worries her lip, “Wait just a little longer and I’ll unbuckle you.” Serahlin pulls into a space a little farther back and closer to the forest edge. Not an ideal spot for movie watching, but a better one for allowing her son some enjoyment of the moonlight.
She turns the radio to the station for the movie, some older black-and-white film that was rated to be child appropriate by the internet, then undoes her seatbelt. Ileth follows suit and immediately reaches up into the moon-roof.
“It’s so pretty, Memae.”
“It is, isn’t?” Serahlin answers as she directs her attention to drawing wards on the car’s dashboard.
“Ileth, come here, please. Good, now place your hand on top of mine. I want you to pay attention to my words and the magic in them - feel them deep inside you and make them heavy with importance.
Guard within from harm,
Locked and stocked,
Against those with arms.”
The wards flare to life under their hands and Ileth gasps as he feels the spill of magic from both of their hands. By lending his energized magic to the spell, it is stronger and will recognize him as a caster, thereby neutralizing any effect the ward would have against him.
“I liked that!” Ileth giggles and runs his hand across the ward, feeling the residual prickles of the casting.
Serahlin smiles. Despite Darris, despite the Templars, despite the shit that seems to pile up at their door, Ileth is coming into his own. The magic is part of him, within him, wanting to be used and embodied. He feels the moon in his soul and the magic in his heart. She is raising a witch and it brings her joy.
They spend over an hour in the car, moving every now and then to compensate for the restlessness. Ileth hops around and they play short games of I Spy and sing songs together. Serahlin tells him an old Dalish tale and despite the threat that lurks back home and the creeping exhaustion, she finds herself having a good time. When was the last time she got to just enjoy being a mother? To just be Ileth’s mom and to see him in his element? She isn’t sure, but she knows that her son will make a fine man some day.
Around midnight, Ileth sighs, “I’m hungry, Memae.”
Serahlin rummages throughout the car but alas, she forgot to bring snacks. She glances out a side window and sees a small concession stand at the base of the hill. Ileth’s stomach rumbles.
“I will go get snacks, you are to stay in the car no matter what, you understand?” Ileth nods at her instruction. She takes a deep breath and grabs her purse before leaving the car. Her familiar, Risin, jumps out to follow her but she shakes her head at him.
Stay with the car, alert me if anyone comes close to it.
Risin nods at her commands and slinks under the car.
The walk to the concession stand is not long, but the distance feels interminable. Each step ratchets up Serahlin’s anxiety, and she continually glances back to the car. She reaches the stand and picks out several snacks she and Ileth enjoy, as well as a couple of waters. They will have to figure out the bathroom situation, but that is a bridge they will cross when necessary.
She finishes paying the cashier when a tall, human man approaches the counter. He puts down a few bags of chips and looks at her from the corner of his eye.
“Can I get one of those ice-creams from the back?” He asks and the cashier nods before heading to the back. The man turns to Serahlin as she packs up her food and drinks.
“Better watch yourself. Your kind ain’t welcome here, this is a decent town.”
Serahlin freezes, her lips thinning into a staunch line as everything in her tenses. She wants to feel out with her magic if this man means her elven blood is not welcome or if he is truly a witch hunter, but she doesn’t dare. A witch hunter would feel her probe and potentially incite an incident. She can’t take the risk.
Instead, Serahlin finishes packing her things and heads out of the stand without a word. She is halfway to the car when a sapping feeling hits her. She stumbles as the magic inside of her feels temporarily drained. Her heart begins to race, she turns around trying to see who could be responsible for the attack. It’s useless, any of the cars here could be holding a Templar who could have sapped her magic. The man from the stand could have followed her, but she doesn’t see him. With her magic feeling low and the car still half a soccer field away, Serahlin braces grinds her teeth and straightens her shoulders.
She will make it. She has to.
Serahlin resumes her trek, walking straight to her car. She doesn’t make it two yards before a searing pain flares across her nerves where her magic ought to be.
“Ah!” She cries, tripping to the gravel. She looks up quickly and sees them this time, four burly looking men walking towards her, menacing in their gait and eyes.
Risin, to me, NOW. She mentally commands to her familiar before slowly rising. The men increase their pace. She turns and bolts for the woods. Her magic is distant, reminding her entirely too much of when Darris had kept her powerless all those years.
But she has Risin, she has her book, she has her coven.
Sorry Selene, she thinks before reaching through the bond that connects them. She yanks moon blessed magic into her, and it burns dark and deep into her soul. It is totally unlike her and Ileth’s magicks. It is heavy and fiery, and it knows it is not in its rightful host. She reaches the edge of the woods and lets the magic out:
“Silent steps unfollowable,
Form unsighted, unknowable.” She casts upon her person, Selene’s magic coursing over her in a fiery shadow turning her as silent and invisible as long as she draws no attention to herself. She disappears into the shadows of the woods, tucking herself against the closeness of the trees.
The men crash into the brush, “Find the witch!” They take out flashlights and she could very well let them pass by and return to her car. But that would leave them out there to hunt her and her own. She’s had enough of just hiding, just getting by. The hunters have threatened her child, her coven.
These men will die.
She watches them closely as they pass by her hiding spot. The man from the concession stand is there, taller than the rest, now wearing an obvious toolbelt with the old insignia. A sword’s scabbard rests on the belt, aside a pistol holster. He came prepared. The second man wears a similar toolbelt, but he has a dagger in his and a pump-action shotgun in hands. The third doesn’t wear a toolbelt, but gloves that send a chill down Serahlin’s spine. Those gloves are designed to hold a witch, somehow enchanted to neutralize any magic it touches. He could get into the car. He dies first. The fourth man isn’t really a man so much as a tall, gangly youth with a flashlight in his hand and sweat on his brow.
Creators, he’s just a kid. A kid who hunts witches.
Serahlin allows them to get slightly ahead of her before following. Risin finally catches up to her, silently stalking alongside her.
I need that man’s shotgun, she thinks.
I will distract them, Risin answers before disappearing into the brush. Serahlin quietly positions herself to be walking at the second man’s pace.
A branch breaks, the men freeze and turn away from Serahlin.
Now or never.
She runs forward and before they can react, she reaches up to the second man’s head and gives a hard twist.
Snap. Neck broken, the man falls to the ground and she grabs his shotgun. The first man shouts as she turns and fires a shot at the third man, but the shot goes wide.
The first man utters a quick chant and searing pain fills her again. She yells in pain and the gun drops from her hands.
Shit.
Her mind is a mess of pain and anger, her body doesn’t obey her. The man with the gloves grabs her and a wretched sob escapes her. These bastards will not see her cry, not matter how much it hurts. Her book is in her purse, strapped against her body, and there is enough magic in her to send out a message to Selene if needed.
“Your kind brings evil and disease to our communities, the Maker will cleanse our community of this filth,” First Man says. Serahlin glares at him but does not give him the satisfaction of a response. Her right to exist isn’t a debate, it is a fact that none of the men here will acknowledge.
Instead, she juts out her chin in defiance.
Another branch breaks. Risin, go, protect Ileth. It’s a useless command, her familiar dies with her.
That was not me.
She barely has time to register the information before a low growl rumbles through the night air. The first man turns around, pistol raised.
“What foul demon have you summoned, witch?” Gloved Man asks. She says nothing, only raises an eyebrow.
The first man takes a step forward. He flashes his light to the dark to see two large, golden eyes peering back at him. He fires a shot just as the creature’s mouth opens, revealing sharp, canine teeth.
Someone screams as the creature lunges forward, long claws and sharp teeth tearing into the first man. The gloved man lets go of Serahlin and reaches for the shotgun. He lifts it just in time for the creature to leap upon him with bloody jaws and claws.
Serahlin, still on her knees and dazed from the pain of having all of her magic stripped from her, watches in a daze as the creature, no, werewolf eviscerates the men who would have killed her. She turns from the gruesome sight, looking for the younger one - but all that is left is a fourth flashlight, abandoned in his flight.
She turns her gaze to the werewolf once more, astonished. Such rare creatures, werewolves are, and not native to this part of Orlais. Yet, here one is.
The werewolf, apparently satisfied with the deadness of the gloves man, lifts their head and looks straight at Serahlin. Their snout is long like a wolf’s, full of wonderful teeth that just saved her. Their eyes are a golden yellow, glowing brightly in the moon-light dark. Long arms and legs still in its humanoid - no, elfish shape but covered in brown fur. Long ears speaking of their elven heritage still curve back from their head.
Serahlin swallows, “Thank you.”
The werewolf tilts their head and takes a step forward, using all four limbs to slowly maneuver towards her. Their movements are smooth and purposeful, eyes fixed on her but there is no snarl or growl. Instead, they are incredibly quiet as they approach.
Serahlin leans instinctually back, her eyes taking in their form before catching on the red staining the fur at their shoulder.
“You’re hurt,” she breathes. The wolf sniffs but does not change course.
“This is the police!”
The wolf’s head snaps up at attention at the call before looking at her.
“Go,” they snarl before leaping away and taking off into the night.
Not one to wait, Serahlin rises and runs through the woods to wind around to her car. She hears the police exclaim at finding a body just as she reaches the parking lot. She slows her steps to a walk so as to not attract attention to herself.
At long last, Serahlin reaches her car.
“Memae, are you okay?” Ileth asks as she settles into the driver’s seat.
“Yes, baby, I’m okay.”
“Okay…did you get snacks?”
**
The next morning brings with it aches and what feels like the worst hangover ever. Serahlin’s phone is full of texts and voice messages from Selene and Thenvunin.
You okay??
What happened?
I’m coming over!!
Felasel says you’re ok a wolf helped?? What?
Right. After leaving the drive-in, she locked herself and Ileth in his room before passing out from exhaustion without thinking to call her coven to tell them what happened. She doesn’t know how Felasel knows what happened - those twins have far too many blessings to fully understand.
Still not entirely able to hold a conversation, Serahlin sends a group text.
We’re ok. Went to the drive-in theatre last night, encountered some hunters but am ok. Will explain more later.
She doesn’t read the follow up texts and instead focuses on getting Ileth ready for school.
She is looking raggedy when she pulls through the drop-off line. A teacher she does not recognize opens the door and she frowns.
“Where is Mr. Adannar?” Ileth asks and the teacher smiles.
“He wasn’t feeling well this morning, so he is staying home. It will just be Ms. Fleur today.”
“Oh, okay. I hope he feels better soon.” Ileth hops out of the car and Serahlin waves goodbye.
As she drives home, Serahlin’s tired brain comes to an odd realization that may not be accurate. But it is a feeling, and she has learned to not ignore those.
First, she heads home and puts all the ingredients needed for making chicken noodle soup into a pot. She uncorks a small healing tincture and pours it in as well, giving it a good stir to incorporate it. Then, she heads upstairs and gets ready properly with a quick shower and dressing in a warm dress.
When the soup is ready and Serahlin is looking like her regular self, she puts the soup into a safe container and heads back out to her car. A simple scrying spell later, and she has the address she needs. Thirty minutes following that, she arrives at a small, but charming home on the outskirts of town. A picket fence surrounds the front yard, while tall trees and hedges bracket the sides, obscuring the view of the backyard.
Serahlin turns off the car, grabs the tupperware full of soup, then walks down the stone path to the front door. She knocks. No answer. She knocks again. No answer.
“Mr. Adannar, I brought you soup to help you feel better,” she calls. A long pause stretches before her before she hears the telltale sound of locks releasing.
The door cracks open, “I appreciate the gesture, but I am really in no shape to see anyone. Good day.” He moves to close the door, but she wedges her foot between it and the jam.
“Mr. Adannar, I came all this way to give you soup. Please, at least take it.” Another long pause stretches between them before the door opens to reveal a rumpled, tired looking Adannar with a a bandage clearly wrapped around his shoulder - exactly where the bullet hit the werewolf from last night.
“As I said, I am in no state to-
“Thank you,” she breathes, meeting his lovely yellow eyes. He swallows.
“I…you’re welcome.”
Serahlin takes a step inside but he doesn’t protest. After she sets the soup down on a table next to the door, she reaches up to his bandaged shoulder. He winces but does not move away.
“Broken flesh and bone mend,
Be as you were before blood was shed.”
The magic slips past her fingers and sinks into his skin. His grimace of pain soon eases into one of relief. He takes the hand she had rested upon him into his own, much larger hand.
“I believe it is my turn to thank you.” He maintains eye contact as he leans down and brushes his lips against the back of her hand.
“There is no need, this was me thanking you.”
“So the soup was…?”
“An excuse, though it does have a healing tincture in it, just in case you wouldn’t open the door for me. You saved not only my life, but my son’s, last night. That…there is not enough thanks in the world that will ever be enough.”
“I could never let them harm you or Ileth,” he whispers.
“No?” She says quietly. He takes a step forward, leaning down.
“No.” He presses his lips gently against hers and she has just enough mind to close the door.