Denerim, more specifically, the elven alienage, was not the easiest of places to live. The elves there worked hard for little thanks, those that were able to attain jobs for the human nobles, even those who were kinder thought of them as something...other. It was a place of squalor, but it was also a place of community and the good more than made up for the bad. Such was the way of things all over Ferelden, if one dug beneath the surface. Human and dwarven nobility ever played their game of thrones, the mages were imprisoned under threat of being hunted down by those who could not lose their quarry and those who were neither mages nor nobility were looked down on by all, then there were the elves, both the Dalish and those who lived within the city. Through all of these strifes, people made the best of things that they could.

In one home of the Denerim Alienage, there was certainly an example of the love and the happiness that lay under the hardships the residents faced as a dark skinned elf oversaw her daughter running through a series of moves with two wooden 'daggers'. The girl was more enthusiasm than skill but then such was the lot of children, within her moves though there was a natural grace and the signs that she had done this since she could walk. The woman was Adaia Tabris, firebrand, troublemaker, loyal friend, all qualities that her daughter showed in spades, as the pale scar over her doe like features might tell. Adaia corrected form and posture with a practised eye, she had once been at the mercy of the human lords of Denerim and her daughter would never meet that fate defenceless if she could help it.

She laughed as her daughter, Kallian, pirouetted under an arm aimed at her head and scored a shot to her chest, "Oh my darling, that was very good." Adaia smiled and sat down in a chair, patting her knee as her young daughter climbed into her lap. "Did I ever tell you of the time I was held in the Arl's Palace?"

Kallian shook her head.

"It must have been two years ago. I had been walking in the market to buy supper after work, for your father and I both needed to earn as many coppers as we could scrape together. I was perhaps not as careful as I should have been but I had attracted the eye of one of the human nobles. The man had followed me, called after me, taken my basket which I was cross about, I had spent all the money I could at the markets. Anyhow, when I stomped on his toes, apparently it was all my fault and I wound up in a cell."

"That's terrible mumma."

"Aye that it was, child but such is sometimes the way, we have to be wary of those who would lord over us. In any case I sat in my cell and we knew there was something...not right, the Ferelden Commander was having people taken out and we could hear the screams down the halls. All seemed to be lost and I despaired of seeing my family again, but then another human came. She was hurt and not just physically..."

What was I to do? I had lost one of my best friends, I had been betrayed by my mentor whom I had loved dearly. All I had wanted to do was to lie in the corner of my cell and cry, but that voice, it had given me an idea, a purpose, better than waiting for Raleigh to tire of his 'sport'. And then there had been those people, all victims just as much as I was. It would have been easier to leave them, pragmatically, it was the smart thing to do. Foolish me, for I am a romantic, which was how this trouble all started in the first place. I had to, I had to let them out, as any of the heroes in any of the stories would have. Avaline would not have left one to suffer had she the power to prevent it, and nor would any of her order for I have certainly met these people.

So I let them out, I figured the workings to their locks were not dissimilar to those I needed to manipulate to get out of the cell myself. Most of the people were too happy to be free to even notice me, really, but one elf called out to me. "I shall teach my daughter of humans like you," she said, "you are a light in this dark place."

I could only shake my head at that, I doubted very much that I could be that light, even with the aid of the Maker. I guess I try to be worthy of the person she tells her daughter that humans can be like, after my confrontation with Raleigh, after murdering him for the frightened and powerless me that he had tortured, after my conversation with Marjolaine, it was something to hold on to and maybe that is the first thing anyone needs when a change is needed. I have a responsibility to be the best me that I can be, to tell stories of the good the humans of all nations, elves, dwarves and even qunari can do, to shape people through my stories, for I am a bard, a true bard which does not have to be Marjolaine's idea of the craft.

Cyrion had watched the practice and the story, his wife had spoken little of the time in the Arl's palace, she had told him more that she had told their daughter, of course, but there had always been something she had hidden. He and Adaia had been matched by the city elder, they had been different in so many ways but that had only brought them closer together over time. She was a firebrand whereas he was more temperate, between them there were few situations they could not overcome, though if ever they argued it was over their daughter. Kallian had run out to play with Shianni and Soris, she was probably slaying imaginary darkspawn even now. He frowned faintly and Adaia caught the look, she smiled and kissed his frown, "She is very spirited."

Cyrion nodded, "As you have always been." He paused, picking up one of the toy blades their daughter had left on the floor, "Why do you teach her this so young?"

Adaia gave him a whimsical smile, "We are not in our children's lives forever, when else should I?"

"Do you regret not leaving that day?" It was something that had always troubled Cyrion, his wife, only newly wed to him, had seemed so taken with the legends of the Grey Wardens, and here was an offer to join their ranks.

"How could I regret watching my daughter grow up? Valendrian had not liked the idea, but the choice was always mine. I just refuse to leave her without means to defend herself." Her face was haunted for just a moment in time, "It is true what they say, you know, these walls around us keep things out more than they keep us in, maybe one day she will not have those walls."

Cyrion could only nod at that, Maker knew the future was never a thing that was certain.

For all the stories, all the good stories, have conflict, problems to overcome, and a shelter from the storm is at times temporary at best, as I have always known since hiding from it in Lothering, for the song plays on.