Where was she?
Aedan looked around wildly, green eyes searching, begging, hoping, praying, that he would see his sister somewhere in the fray. She had been by his side a moment ago, wordless as ever, but unerringly loyal.
He had known what taking Loghain on would mean. The man was a traitor; Aedan had no doubt about it. He had been there to witness the betrayal himself and he had no misguided preconceptions. Loghain had left them there to die. The intent behind it was definitely not malicious, or in Cailan's case, anyway. Aedan had doubted it was malicious towards him as well, and likely his sister, but Loghain had seen no point to committing his men to a lost cause.
Aedan couldn't fault the man for that, regardless of who he had abandoned.
He had expected Alistair's displeasure. His fellow Warden and best friend had been committed to the Grey Wardens. He saw Duncan as a father figure and the Wardens as his family, and Loghain had indirectly caused their deaths. Aedan knew full-well what he was getting himself into.
That didn't matter much, though. He hadn't quite anticipated how hurt Alistair would be, and for that, he was sorry. The other man wouldn't allow him to apologize, but Aedan still regretted what the decision had done to them. Their friendship likely wouldn't withstand the Blight; Alistair made it clear he was leaving the Wardens when this was over. He was willing to leave before the Archdemon was defeated, but Elissa had miraculously persuaded him to stay, and Aedan would count his lucky stars for that every day.
What he hadn't expected, though, was Elissa's dislike, or Leliana's. Leliana's made more sense—she wasn't the type to believe in leaving people behind, no matter how fruitless the situation might be, but his own sister? He thought she'd understand. He thought that no matter how much the others might hate him, he would always have her support.
But he didn't.
She hadn't spoken to him since they left Denerim unless it was absolutely necessary. Alistair hadn't spoken to him whatsoever, and Leliana just seemed to go along with it, retreating with the other two Wardens into their own separate group.
It was hard watching the group he'd led for almost a year disintegrate. It was hard watching Alistair's and Leliana's loyalties shift practically overnight. One second, they looked to him for guidance and leadership, and the next, they had turned their backs on him in favor of his sister.
Aedan couldn't fault Elissa for it. It wasn't like she tried to turn them on him. It had just happened, and it was his own stupid fault.
But he couldn't go back on a decision like this. He couldn't turn around and cut Loghain down to please them, and besides, somehow, by the grace of the Maker Himself, Aedan had persuaded Anora to agree to their ridiculous plan. She hadn't seemed too surprised, more...interested in it than he expected, to say the least.
He was going to be king.
The elves jostling past him snapped him back to the present. Elissa was missing. She had followed him across the gangway towards the castle, but once they'd engaged with the darkspawn, he'd lost track of her. There had been an ogre, and while him and his party had experience handling the creatures, it was apparent that the Dalish did not. The elves had avoided many of the beast's attacks, allowing him and Sten to engage it directly while they peppered it and the smaller darkspawn with arrows.
Could he really blame them, though?
They had retaken the gate and were rushing into the courtyard, basically falling on themselves and their own dead to try and gain a foothold when Aedan truly noticed his sister's absence. Usually, she was always right by his side, covering his flank while he covered hers. It had become an unspoken agreement for them to be together in fights—it had been Alistair in the Deep Roads and in the forest with the werewolves, but on the road, it was always her. Elissa was always right by his side, no matter how angry she was with him.
But now she was gone, and he found himself desperately praying that she hadn't been taken down by the darkspawn's archers.
And then he saw it—a flash of red hair, closely following a head of almost-strawberry-blonde hair back the way they came. In a rush to make sure, he barrelled into the courtyard, up a short set of stairs to a landing. He made short work of the genlock there, rending head from shoulders, and turned.
Sure enough, Elissa was running back across the bridge, towards the windmill, with Alistair and Leliana hot on her heels. The latter of the group was still slinging her bow over her shoulders when she slowed, looking back over her shoulder.
Their eyes met for a brief second. She looked torn, but Aedan could see Alistair stop. He called out to her, but his voice and the words were lost to the sounds of the battle raging around him, and Leliana turned away.
He huffed. Something about that was frustrating, but Aedan couldn't let it bother him. There were still darkspawn pouring out of the castle, darkspawn on the wooden scaffolds, bottlenecking the gate with arrows and crossbow bolts.
Aedan looked back to the fray, blocking an arrow with his shield. Just another hole, another dent, to add to the many.
His eyes fell on the witch immediately, so enticing and aggressive was she, and he yelled, "Morrigan!" She battered aside a hurlock with her staff before turning, looking for the source of his voice, and when their eyes locked, he pointed with his sword. "Go with them!"
One terse nod, and the witch was gone, exploding in a puff of feathers as she transformed into a raven. Aedan didn't think they were deserting, but if they were, at least Morrigan would be able to tell him when she reported back.
If she did.
A cacophony of screaming tore Elissa away from the fighting. Elves trampled past as she retreated to follow the sound. Her ears were ringing from the sounds of battle—darkspawn, elves screaming as they were cut apart, swords clashing, arrows thwacking into bodies with a meaty groan. It was absolute chaos, and Elissa wasn't sure how she even heard these new cries for help over the originals.
They were so close but so distant, as if travelling over...water.
She had recognized the way the voices vibrated off the walls of the castle, off the stony spires reaching out of Lake Calenhad, across the lake. She had heard Fergus scream like that once, back at Highever. The three of them had been exploring by the cliffs and the oldest had fallen, trumbled right on over onto an outcropping. He'd broken his arm.
Elissa could never forget that sound. The sound of complete and utter anguish, absolute fear and pain rolled into one. It was a sound she had never wanted to hear again, and yet, there it was. Coming from the village.
Her eyes narrowed as she drew nearer to the balustrade. In their initial crossing and assessment of the situation, the village had appeared deserted. It seemed the townsfolk had evacuated before the darkspawn struck and seemed obvious by the way the beasts were throwing themselves at the keep. It was almost too easy; defeat the darkspawn besieging the walls, make sure no packs were roaming the countryside, triple check for any signs of the Archdemon, assemble army, and wait.
The screaming stopped abruptly, and then resumed with a new vigor. There were still villagers down there.
Elissa looked to the gates as Sten leapt at the ogre, greatsword sinking into its throat. Men and women alike cheered as their push towards the keep redoubled in strength. They were plowing through the darkspawn like a sword through an unarmored belly—it was almost effortless.
They would retake the castle with or without her. They had too much momentum for the darkspawn to be able to drive them back.
Without another thought, Elissa sheathed her sword, extended the clasps on her shield to throw on her back, and started running. Those people needed her help more than Aedan did here. He would understand. He had to.
She was already sweating buckets, but the sprint to the road could've killed her. Running was never her strong suit, let alone running through ankle deep snow. Another second, Elissa thought, and she would've keeled over. But even as she slowed, doubling over to catch her breath, Elissa felt renewed. The cramps in her muscles soothed, the ache in her lungs began to ease, and the pounding of her heart in her head melted away.
It was like a bucket of hot water had been dumped on her. Everything, every ailment, washed away as the water ran down her skin. It was such a welcome relief, but as the feeling ran off her, the heat remained, persistent, and she needed to go.
What precisely threw Elissa down the hillside she'd never know. It was a primal force, urging, pleading, with her to go faster, and she complied. It was magic, that much was obvious, but whether it was her own doing or something else's, Elissa didn't care. It was almost like it was assuring her this was the right decision, but she didn't need its reassurances.
She knew it was the right thing to do. These people needed something to happen, and she was determined to be that something.
Elissa tore her eyes away from the buried path to look upon the small village. Darkspawn were pulling people out of huts along the docks, rounding them up into the Chantry. Twisted idols were already being erected by a pack of the creatures outside the doors.
Elissa didn't plan on letting the darkspawn live long enough to find out their plans.
She practically slid the final yards, stooping over to preserve her balance down the short slope. By now, the pack of darkspawn meandering around the Chantry had noticed her and were yelping at each other in their gutteral language. As they rushed to meet her, brandishing wicked swords and maces that weighed more than she did, Elissa slid to a halt.
Don't think, just do.
Elissa didn't know where the voice came from, but it gave her courage she didn't know she possessed. It was the same voice that pulled her into the Fade at times of stress, the same voice that propelled her through every spell she'd ever cast.
And the next thing Elissa knew, the image of the mage burning through darkspawn at Ostagar was her. The energy screaming at her to go, to run, was manifesting as fire, toiling from shoulder to fingertip until she threw it away. The flames welled into a ball as they soared, slamming into the darkspawn with such a force it knocked them off their feet.
She stared at their smoking bodies, mouth agape, as a form shimmered into reality at her side.
Morrigan inspected the corpses with an arched brow. She made a noise in her throat, and if Elissa didn't know any better, she thought the witch might've been impressed.
That spell felt like it opened a floodgate. The same heat she felt spreading over her as she ran, it was like an all-consuming fire now. It needed more. She needed more.
Elissa didn't realize her chest was still heaving until Alistair and Leliana joined them, both looking absolutely winded—Alistair moreso.
"Andraste's tits, woman, next time you plan on running like that, warn us so we don't follow you!"
Elissa blinked. "I...didn't ask you to follow me."
"Do you think us so low as to let you charge off by yourself?" Leliana asked.
Alistair nodded his agreement, straightening from having his hands on his knees. How he'd run so far so fast was downright astonishing. He wore heavy platemail. Elissa could barely run in chainmail; she could never do what he just did.
"Yes, this is very touching, but..." Morrigan trailed off, inclining her staff in the direction of the wharf. It was little more than rickety bridges tying suspended huts together, but it was sturdy enough to support the people who lived there. Several darkspawn, the kinds that wore bronze armor, were holding villagers on their knees, swords positioned under their chins.
The blacksmith, Owen. His daughter, Valena. The barkeep, Bella. The owner of the bar, whatever the fuck his name was.
Elissa started forward, but before she'd even taken a step, the hurlock holding Owen slit his throat. Blood squirted from his neck and the darkspawn held him upright, allowing the man's blood to spill over its boots and the thin layer of ice on the lake.
Once the stream turned to a trickle, it shoved his body over the ropes. Valena's cries of anguish vibrated in Elissa's skull, propelling her feet forward, past the town center, straight through a pair of shrieks, and up the walkway onto the bridge. Elissa couldn't remember getting here. One second, she was down there, just outside the Chantry with her companions, and the next, she was here, locked in a three-versus-one battle with two hurlocks and a genlock.
The dwarf-sized darkspawn was easiest to dispatch. They always acted rashly, too bold for their intelligence, and it found her sword through its chest in a matter of seconds. The two hurlocks, however, were a different challenge. They always came in pairs, always acted off each other no matter how foolish a sane man might find their style. One had a bladed mace, one had a sword and a shield, and Maker did they put up a fight.
She could hear them behind her. Morrigan was shifting into a raven to get to her faster. Alistair was running again. Leliana had gotten a little closer, but kept enough distance she'd have plenty of time to draw her sword should the need arise.
When the mace slammed into her shield, Elissa could feel blood trickle over her skin. It was stuck. In her arm, her shield, whatever, and the darkspawn had to rip it out.
Elissa couldn't feel it. The blade had lodged itself in her arm, but by the time it came free, she had been aggressively shoved aside.
If Elissa was a force, this thing possessing her was the universe.
