A Day in Denerim

"May the Maker watch over us all"

The velvet fabric of her dress was hot and itchy against her skin. Her long black hair was braided and twisted atop her head in an elaborate fashion, her bangs curled. Delilah assured her it was the height of fashion in the capital, not that Ely much cared. She was thirteen today and positively loathed spending her birthday in a dress.

Eilonwy frowned as she watched her mother and Delilah inspecting some silks and lace and eyeing her strangely. Blast, they were probably picking out fabrics for some frilly fluff of an outfit for her. Eilonwy frowned harder and quietly started backing away.

"Eilonwy Irene Cousland , where exactly do you think you are going?" her mother asked, not taking her eyes off the blue silk fabric in front of her.

Delilah's eyes flicked back towards Eilonwy and she hid a smile behind her hand. Ely stuck her tongue out at her friend. "I was just going to look a Wade's armory, mother." Eilonwy lied, crossing her fingers behind her back.

Eleanor sighed and shook her head. "You are worse than your father and brother. Fine, go have you fill of pointy swords but do hurry back. This dress is your birthday present and you need to be properly fitted yet."

Ely surpassed the urge to grimace and ran off towards the armory. As soon as she was out of her mother's sight, she dipped off towards the gates that led to the Denerim's alleyways.

She grabbed the light brown and pink fabric of her dress in her hands and walked in awe. The alleys were much different from the market distract. The buildings were run-down and crumbling at the corners. People looked at her with wide, hungry eyes; their hands reaching out for free coin. Here teeth were stained and rotted, eyes red and hazy.

"Such a trussed up lass, comin' to our side of town," a man sneered at her.

Eilonwy's head turned towards the sound and her mouth fell open slightly at the sight. A man in his early twenties stood with a dagger in his hand. A couple of women in tattered breeches and six men were behind him, all holding crudely made weapons. She straightened her shoulders and gave them the coldest look she could manage.

"What do you want?" she asked, pin-pointing her stare on the one who seemed to be the leader.

He grinned and elbowed a blonde woman in the side. "Here the snark on this bitch? Askin' what we want when she's the one comin' to us," he said and laughed. His friends roared with laughter behind him and Eilonwy felt the colour drain from her face.

She slowly took a few steps backwards, hoping she would still be able to run in this Maker' cursed dress. As she walked, she noticed the gang was matching her step for step. She said a silent prayer to the Maker and made to turn around. Suddenly there was a hand pressed against the small of her back. Waves of fear cascaded down her spine.

"Don't worry Ely, you'll be fine." Eilonwy felt herself calm at the sound of Nathaniel's voice. She glanced over to her left and noticed Ser Gilmore and Dairren there as well, clad in their Highever armor.

The leader's grin widened as he took in the Cousland heraldry on Ser Gilmore's shield. "Ah, so you must be the daughter of the Teyrn of Highever. Well, lads, we got ourselves a might fine prize here," he said as he continued to fondle his dagger.

Eilonwy heard Nathaniel curse low under his breath. "My father will see you hanged if you so much as lay your dirty fingers on me," Eilonwy replied, voice full of false bravado.

Nathaniel groaned from behind her. "Less goading, more running," he whispered and grabbed her hand.

Before Ely fully registered what was happening, she was running back towards the market distract. Ser Gilmore and Dairren were running behind them, blocking the arrows that were following them. Nathaniel's hand was warm in hers as she tripped over her dress. He tugged hard on her arm, dragging her along despite her stumble. She frowned and grabbed as much of the fabric in her free hand as she could and yanked upwards, baring an obscene amount of her legs to the air.

It wasn't much longer before they found a large group of guards racing towards them. Nathaniel slowed, bringing Eilonwy to a stop with him. She dared to glance behind them only to be met with the sight of the gang quickly running away.

She heaved for breath beneath the tight corset that encased her ribs. Her dress was still nearly up o her waist and her hand was still clasped in Nathaniel's. Dairren nudged her shoulder and cleared his throat. Eilonwy looked down at her bare thighs in embarrassment and dropped the dress down.

"Milady Cousland, your mother wishes us to escort you back to the Market Distract, if you will," The Captain of the Guard mumbled, bowing in her direction.

Eilonwy glanced over at Nathaniel who was glaring down at her. He pulled his hand roughly from her and stalked off towards the guards. She looked after him, mouth open in shock. Dairren cleared his throat, gaining her attention, and offered her his arm. "Lady Ely, if I may escort you back to safety?" He grinned down at her and winked and she smiled back gratefully.

Ser Gilmore walked behind them, his jaw set in a hard line. Ely could tell he was angry, probably because it had been his duty to make sure she didn't get into trouble. She felt a bit of shame wash over her as she realized how much trouble the young Knight would be in for her bit of mischief.

When they reach the Market Distract, Eilonwy bowed her head as she caught a glimpse of her mother's scowl.

Delilah ran up to her and grabbed her hands. "Oh, Eilonwy, I was so worried after you!" she exclaimed, and pulled her friend into a quick embrace. Eilonwy's eyes widened; she hadn't realized she would worry so many.

She gently hugged Delilah in return before disentangling herself from the embrace. Eleanor Cousland continued to glare at her youngest child before firmly pointing to the ground in front of her in a "come here, now," motion.

Eilonwy kept her head bowed as she slowly walked to where her mother was standing. She waited for her mother's lecture to begin with nervous tension running through her body.

Instead, Eleanor sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Maker's breath but I have no idea what to do with you, child! You had me worried near to death. What in Thedas possessed you to wander off like that?" she asked, exasperation clear in her voice.

"I just wanted to explore, Mother. I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Eleanor's lips pressed together in a hard line. "Well, you can explore the inside of the Chantry for the rest of that day, instead. You are to spend that time in contrition. You will beg the Maker's forgiveness and spend the day praying over a candle. Nathaniel will stand watch. Have I made myself perfectly clear, young lady?"

Eilonwy nodded her head, knowing better than to argue with her mother when she was angry. Eleanor motioned Nathaniel over.

Ely looked up at Nathaniel's face as he continued to scowl angrily at her. His firm, thick brown was pinched in a frown and Ely was surprised at the anger radiating from his cold, gray eyes. He nodded in response to her mother's demand and turned abruptly on his heel. Eilonwy gathered up her dress and hurried after him.

He opened the Chantry doors for her and waiting, toe tapping, for her to catch up. She ducked her head as she passed him, uncertain what to say to him when he was in such a foul mood.

A Templar dressed in full armor greeted her warmly as she entered. She looked in through his helm and noticed he had golden brown eyes. Nathaniel nodded curtly at the man and snatched her hand, tugging her towards the front of the building. He dragged her up the stairs to the upper balcony, only letting go of her hand when they reached an empty row of seats hidden in the shadows. He glared down at her as she sat awkwardly on the bench.

"Can I leave you alone long enough to fetch a candle or will you disappear again?" he growled.

She furrowed her brow and looked up at him. "You can leave for longer, if you like," she replied back heatedly, frustrated with his cold demeanor.

He rolled his eyes and stomped off, his boots echoing in the near empty halls. When he returned he roughly placed the lit candle in her hands and leaned against the wall opposite her.

She sighed and bowed her head over the flame and began the Prayer of Contrition. "'O my Maker, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee, and I detest my sins because they offend Thee, my Maker and his Bride, who art all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace, to confess my sins, to do good, avoid evil, and to amend my life." She cleared her throat lightly and began to list her many sins. "Maker, I have sinned by disobeying the will of my Mother, she who bore me and gave to me life. Maker, I have sinned by troubling Ser Gilmore, a good and honest man. Maker I have sin- ouch!" A bit of hot wax dripped off the candle and landed on her finger.

She dropped the candle in surprise and the flame quickly caught the bottom of her dress on fire. The flames licked around her ankles, burning through the fabric and scorching her skin. Nathaniel rushed over and grabbed the burning fabric. He flapped it smoothly against itself, putting out the fire calmly and easily. When he was done he looked up at her, kneeling at her feet.

"Andraste's ass, Ely," he muttered, brow still furrowed in a tight scowl.

She blushed deeply as she looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Nathaniel sighed and stood to his feet. He placed his hand onto of her head and ruffled her bangs. "Be careful, clumsy girl. If anything happened to you, I'm not sure what I'd do." His voice was so low and soft she barely heard him as he walked back over to his position by the wall.

She frowned and continued her prayers, listing all her sins out loud while inwardly thinking on Nathaniel's words. She wasn't sure what he meant by them, but they caused a shiver to run down her spine every time she thought of them.