She can't believe it, truly she can't. Hours ago, she had scoffed at the idea of marriage and had even contemplated running away to find the Dalish elves. They didn't force marriage onto their young, she was sure. At least, she hoped it anyway. For hours upon hours before she was to meet her groom, Kal'atae begged and kicked and screamed to try and worm her way out of the atrocious marriage her father was forcing her through. She had even screamed to her father that her mother would have given her a choice, and although the man was visibly moved by this, he still didn't allow her to get out of it.

Not this time.

It was unfair, to her at least, that she had to marry a man she had never met before, a man who had never even stepped foot inside her alienage. This man did not know her; he did not know what she looked like, how tall she was, what her birth date was or anything, so why marry him? Soris had only laughed at her anger, Shianni merely attempted to cheer her up by making snarky comments on how he may have looked – this was no consolation to her, for what if he had a mousy, sly face and a huge nose? The thought sent shudders down her entire body.

She hated the idea of marriage, and she still did right up until she met her groom. When she was dragged over by the upper arm to the male and female elf stood nervously near the gates, Kal'atae swore to herself that the maker himself must have come down and granted his god-like looks to the man. Blonde hair that stopped neatly over his sweet face, blue eyes that reflected a beautiful ocean that she had never seen, and a voice that lulled her in from the first nervous 'hi' that escaped his lips.

He asked her if she was nervous about the wedding, and she was honest to a fault. She even told him that she had been dreading right up until the moment she saw him. Nelaros, his name was, and Kal'atae loved the way it sounded on her tongue. Soris had sent her a knowing look when he heard her muttering the name under her breath with a smile on her face, shaking his head when she laughed guiltily at him.

Whether it was wishful thinking or not, she swore that Nelaros' hand brushed against hers purposely every so often during the ceremony. This motivated her to grab his own gently in hers. And she kept hold of his warm hand until she was ripped away from him by the Arl of Denerim's son, not knowing that the next time his hand would be in hers, it would be stone cold and lifeless.

She watches as some are killed and some dragged away in the dungeon of Vaughan's home, and when the door opens with a bang behind the guards, she is ready to shout with relief when Soris appears and slides a sword to her. The cold metal is shoved through a guard's ribcage and slits the throat of another, the third being taken out with an arrow from Soris before the last guard can backstab her.

Soris explains in a hurried rush that it was Nelaros' idea to break the women out; that the sword she holds in her hands is the one from Nelaros who now stands unarmed trying to stop the guards. She hurries at this, determined to get back to him before trouble runs into him. In all her life she has never cursed the maker as much as she does then, as door after door leads to pointless rooms that do not contain her groom.

They arrive to the right room too late, the door opening just as the guard runs his dagger through Nelaros, and although Soris lets out a gasp Kal'atae does not, instead unsheathes her sword and charges into the thick of the guards, an anger so pure and provoked that Soris does not wish to stop her as she cuts ruthlessly through every guard who tries to battle her. They deserve it, all of them, even the ones with little children at home because it is they who did not stop the Arls son; it is they who allowed that one guard to kill her betrothed and they who shall suffer the most. She spits on every single one of their bodies, before her eyes fall on Nelaros.

Soris can see the anger fading behind her eyes as she looks at the body, watches as she kneels down and tries to resuscitate him, checks for any pulse or breath. And when she finally realizes that he is indeed dead, she changes position and sits in the pool of blood around his body. A tearful, pain-filled, heartbreaking wail of despair is let loose from her throat, and for the first time since her mother died, Soris sees his cousin cry.

She cries for his family, cries for him, cries for the life that they could have had, had she only been moments quicker and not searched every room she came across. When she thinks she cannot cry any more, she takes hold of his hand tightly only to have a beautiful gold ring fall from the limp palm into her own, and fresh hot tears fall down her face once more. He should not have died, for he had tried to be the saviour. It confounds her, because she had never known him properly and yet he had risked and gave his life to try and free her and the others.

Soris eventually places a hand on her shoulder and pulls her away from the body, neither of them bothered or concerned about the amount of blood on her. Kal'atae wipes her tears away, places the ring on her finger and storms towards the door. Soris doesn't even ask the Maker to help those who get in her way.

Vaughan tries to dissuade her from killing him, promises money that she has never owned if she simply lets him go. But the look of fear in Shianni's eyes, as well as the remembrance of the empty eyes of Nelaros makes her shake her head in disgust at the petty man. He doesn't have time to react when two arrows and her sword are embedded into him, and a feeling of utter satisfaction takes over Kal'atae as she watches the pathetic man bleed out on the floor, amused when he chokes as his life ebbs slowly away, fear in his eyes.

Spitting on his body, she presses her foot hard onto the wound her blade made, laughing when he screams in pain and chokes up more blood.

"A life for a life, Vaughan. Even you should know that."