CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She had surprised herself when she had told Savior that she would rule alongside him.
It was not that she did not think she could do it. Truthfully, she knew that she could—and she knew that in comparison to someone like Gale, she deserved it. When Loess had rained fire onto Tephra it had been Casimira that had unleashed her own flames against them; it had been Casimira that had died by the aid of the Loessian advisor, Starsin, and had been reborn from Tephra’s ashes.
It has taken her a long time to come to terms with the fact that Savior—and Tephra—were meant to be her home; that they were both things she needed to stop running away from. But the moment such a thing had dawned on her and she had been able to look at it with a newfound clarity she had known she had no other choice.
She knew there was magic out there stronger than their own, but perhaps with two dragons on Tephra’s throne the world would think twice about coming for the kingdom again.
Just as Leliana had intended.
She stands not far from Savior when he speaks, a small smile curving across her mouth when he calls her fierce. He knew that she avoided that side of herself whenever possible, but it did exist, and the red V of the alliance marked on her leg proved she had learned to at least control it. She moves to stand next to him, her snow-white body stark against the black fire opal of him, and she scans her ice-blue eyes across the small gathering. “I’m Casimira,” she begins, knowing that many of these residents would not know her, “and while I do not know most of you I was born here, and I have fought for Tephra before.” Her gaze slides to Savior, holding it for a second before turning back to the faces before her, “And I am willing to fight for it.”
I figured she should make an appearance