"They are Grey Wardens, my Lord," Thomas continued just before small cluster of the group pushed their way forward. "And these are—"
"Not in the bloody mood," a dark haired woman growled out, the shoulder of her shirt—a sleeping shirt perhaps, Teagan could tell now they were all closer—slipping down to show what looked like a deep stab wound in it though she showed no sign of feeling said wound as it weakly wept blood. "Eli, Mal, find a blasted cot."
A male Dalish elf and a dark haired dwarven woman slipped past Teagan and moved their way to where the cots for the wounded was set up and stood guard almost around a free one.
The human woman strode towards it, one of the Qunari—it was a woman?!—following behind with another elf cradled in her strong arms and an elven mage attached to the other elf.
The elf in the Qunari's arms was young, pale, and bleeding from what looked like a deep wound as she gasped and whimpered in pain. The Dalish mage's hands were fixed on the wound, glowing brightly despite the blood that was clear through the glow.
Teagan almost jumped as a growling hound followed in their heels, glaring around with wary eyes.
"Wynne, Leona," a familiar looking woman muttered, her blue eyes worried. "Help them."
An aged mage pushed her way forward—the only one dressed in robes and not shirts and trousers—and hurried over to the group as the elf was gently placed on the bed with a red-headed mage quick behind her.
The dark haired woman loomed at the foot of the cot, hands clutched tightly around the long-sword and short sword on her waist, and watched intently as the three mages worked.
Teagan turned to the rest of the group—Grey Wardens, and didn't part of feel weak with relief that they weren't all dead like Loghain had claimed?—and met the familiar brown eyes of a familiar blond lad—by the Maker, Alistair had grown to look so much like Maric, like Cailan, that it was like looking at a ghost.
The doors of the Chantry opened again and two more people rushed into the chapel, somehow Teagan wasn't surprised when the male elf and female mage brushed by him like he was a piece of rumble and hurried over to the injured elf—potions and cloth clutched in their arms.
"Forgive them, Bann Teagan," the familiar woman, cultured and strong Ferelden accent, spoke up as she, Alistair and another dwarven woman stood before him. "Vala was injured quite badly in the ambush."
"There's nothing to forgive," Teagan spoke, glancing at the Dalish that stood just behind the woman's shoulder and was grimacing at him with mild dislike—he had yet to meet a Dalish that didn't dislike him on sight. "I'm sorry, but do I know you? You look very familiar."
"No, but you most likely knew my father," the woman replied, a brief flicker of pain entered her familiar blue eyes. "Bryce Cousland."
Teagan looked at her, yes she had Bryce Cousland's eyes and that meant she was Andra Cousland—the last of the Cousland was a Grey Warden, Maker two of Ferelden's oldest bloodlines ending with two Grey Wardens.
"You have my condolences," Teagan bowed his head slightly and Andra Cousland's face tightened slightly as she nodded back. "I'm afraid you've chosen a poor time to come for recruits, Warden Cousland, as I can't spare any men."
"What's happening, Bann Teagan?" Alistair spoke up, brown eyes dismayed at the sorry state of the people in the chantry, a just healing cut above his left eye. "How are the dead walking?"
Briefly Teagan was taken back to when Alistair would rush up to him when he came to visit Redcliffe, calling him 'Uncle Teagan', and promising to look after Teagan's prized horse—Teagan would admit now that the title that Teagan had encouraged the young boy to call him most likely didn't help Isolde to take to him, but it had meant so much to the little boy that Teagan wouldn't regret it—but years had passed since then and this wasn't a reunion of 'nephew' and 'uncle'.
"A mage, we believe," Teagan told him and a snort made him glance other to one last mage, an elven one, with cropped white blonde hair and pale green eyes, gave him a look of distain when she saw him looking. "One was invited into the castle before Eamon fell ill and this started."
"The Arlessa allowed a mage into the castle?" Andra's eyebrows raised and Teagan could understand her disbelief.
"Yes," he rubbed his jaw, still bemused about what his dear sister-in-law was thinking. "I can't spare any men."
"We're not here for men," Andra told him, the unspoken yet hanging heavily in the air. "We're here to help and to gain the aid of Redcliffe in calling a Landsmeet."
Teagan almost smiled—politics had never been his thing, that had been Eamon's battleground—but he could admire how clever they were being. Loghain had appointed himself as King without calling a Landsmeet, a breach in tradition and protocol, and at best made his claim almost illegal. She was calling into question his right to rule, a thing she could have been able to call on her own if she hadn't become a Grey Warden and Howe didn't proclaim to be Teynir of Highever to anyone who was near.
Getting his brother to help would have been a stroke of genius because Eamon had never truly hid his dislike for Loghain Mic Tir.
"Then we best save it and hope my brother recovers swiftly," Teagan said and Andra nodded.
Kiara's gaze didn't flicker away from Vala once; not when Wynne suggested that Leona helped the other wounded, not when Ellana coaxed Vala to swallow a potion to replenish blood, not when Wynne tied off the bandages around Vala, not when Morrigan cleaned and bound the wound on Kiara's shoulder, not when Elion reminded Ellana to take a mana potion and not when Ellana finally leaned back and wiped her forehead with her forearm so not to spread Vala's blood over her face.
"Is she going to be okay?" Malika finally asked after Wynne went to check on everyone else and Morrigan wrapped a hand around the grip that Kiara had on one of her hilts.
There was a weary look on Ellana's face, a look Kiara hadn't seen since she had almost been burnt to the bone during a battle with a drake—the left side of Kiara's ribs will always be a mess of burn scars and her left lung would always been weaker and more senstive—and Kiara knew that Vala wasn't in a good way, even with Ellana and Wynne's relentless help.
"She lost a lot of blood," Ellana said instead of truly answering and Kiara's face tightened.
"Ellana," Kiara said sharply and Ellana sighed as she washed the blood from her hands.
"She's lost a lot of blood," Ellana repeated, "Wynne and I were able to heal the internal damage and encouraged new blood vessels and flesh to grow. Her abdomen will be very tender and could tear open again if she strains herself that is only if she survives the night."
"The Wardens have pledged to protect this village," Zevran muttered, easing back into the group and standing just behind Elion, wary amber eyes on Kiara's still form. "What is the Companions going to do?"
"We're going to rip some undead bodies apart and show them why you don't piss off the Companions!" Malika declared determinedly.
"I've just spent hours keeping one of our family alive!" Ellana snapped, ignoring Elion placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "And you want to fight the ones that did it?"
"If we did not fight those that have almost cost our lives then we wouldn't be able to fight much at all," Saya reminded the elf making her shoulders slump slightly as she turned her golden eyes to Kiara.
"Kiara," Ellana pleaded and Kiara finally stirred herself from her silent vigil.
"We cannot leave," Kiara reminded Ellana. "Vala can't be moved and I have sworn to help the Wardens this Blight."
Ellana's shoulders slumped more and she clasped one of Vala's pale hands in her own shaking hands.
"These undead have harmed one of our family," Kiara continued. "And like fuck are they going to get away with that. We will stay and we will help. We didn't run from fights until Ostagar and I think we've all agreed that we're not making that a habit."
"I'm glad to hear that," Bann Teagan said as he approached them and Kiara turned to glare at him.
"We're not doing it for you, fuck, we're not doing it for the people," Kiara told him bluntly, uncaringly, unforgivingly. "We're doing it because they hurt Vala and no one gets away with hurting one of our own."
It was only as Vala lay there, still and pale, that I remembered how young she was and I wasn't just talking about her age. Vala wasn't like Malika, who had been groomed for battle since the cradle, she wasn't like Saya, who had to survive the harsh lifestyle of the Qun as a mage, nor was she like Ellana and Elion who never had a real home and had fought from childhood.
Vala was a child compared to us and I only just realised just how amazing it had been that she had been able to win against the guards and knights of the Arl Denerim to live long enough to kill his spoiled little brat of a son.
Living Corpses weren't something that I had ever gotten used to—all I could ever think when I saw a walking corpse was flesh-eating zombies—and now one of them had almost killed one of mine, one member of my little fucked-up family, had almost killed the baby of the family and for that they would burn.
Andra may have been young, she may have been sheltered by her father, but she remembered the Highever Massacre. She had seen the sharks drawn into the docks because of the thick blood in the water—many of the locals took down some of the sharks and eat well for a while after—and had heard the whispers between guards.
She had a feeling that what Kiara was going to unleash on the Undead Horde attacking Redcliffe would make that massacre pale.
She called the other Wardens to her side as Kiara came striding out of the Chantry—dark eyes hard and unforgiving, no movement wasted, muscles tensing and twitching with barely held back violence—and sat back to watch.
Andra realised as she watched Kiara exchange words with Bodahn that she had never seen Kiara's face so hard, so unforgiving, and it sent a shiver down her spine much like the thought of Darkspawn and their corrupted and withered faces.
"Andra?" It wasn't Alistair questioning her decision, but Lelianna who looked concerned as the Companions parted through Redcliffe—some talking with the Mayor or the Knight Templar while others moved towards homes and stores.
"Trust me," Andra spoke, feeling the irony as she still had trouble trusting the Orlesian Bard. "You don't want to get between the Companions and their targets."
"Yes," Zevran pipped up—Andra almost drew her sword in surprise because she hadn't heard him, hadn't even seen him appear next to them and from Lelianna's small jerk of surprise, she hadn't either which actually didn't make Andra feel better. "You don't want to get involved with them or in their way at the moment—I'm afraid they will be most discourteous at best. Our dear Kiara is at the moment discussing fire, lots and lots of fire."
It was almost amusing—more like unsettling—how easily Zevran seemed to get over his small hesitation—more like fear if Andra was going to be truthful—towards Kiara and settle into the Companions with Elion as his mostly ever present watcher—mostly because Elion wasn't with the assassin at the moment and Andra decided she wasn't too keen on finding out what Kiara had deemed more important for Elion to do then play nursemaid.
Andra wasn't that surprised, Kiara had always liked fire and once said if you were in doubt, kill it with fire. Everything succumbed to fire in the end, Kiara had told her twelve-year-old self, and it can destroy and cleanse everything. So Kiara would kill these undead things with fire, she would watch them burn and she would smile.
Andra had no doubt about that.
AN: Hope you like it, sorry it's been awhile and a bit short, but I'm ill and just wanted to get this out for you. I also thought I'd ask you some questions for the Harry Potter story of this series so I can begin planning it a bit.
Do you want her to be muggleborn, half-blood or pureblood? Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, or Hufflepuff? Marauders era or Golden trio era? Stick with what we know of canon or bring in some pureblood culture? Born into the world or just dropped in like the others? And anything else you'd like to see?