Author's note:
I tried to post this earlier, but messed it up somehow lol. Its been a while since I last published so that might be why.
Anyway, I'm not completely happy with this update, but I plan on updating them later on, once more chapters have been posted. Enjoy!
Elissa jerked awake, completely disoriented and bewildered. She was on her feet, leaning against one of the beams just outside the Chantry. She remembered briefly resting on the beam, shutting her eyes for what felt like a few moments. Tired as she was, she must have dozed off. She didn't know what woke her, but judging by the faces of those around her, it hadn't been them.
They knew just as well how hard sleep had been to come by the last week.
She groaned as her stiff neck protested her movement, and she rubbed her face with her hands. She desperately wanted to sleep, to just stretch out on the dirt and not stir for a day. But every hand was needed to prepare the town for nightfall.
Even at this early hour in Redcliffe, every passing minute counted.
After easing the strain in her neck, she remembered why she'd left the Chantry in the first place; Teagan had asked her to speak to Ser Perth near the windmill. Ser Perth had been trying to bolster the knight's morale with very little success. Apparently, he'd had an alternative idea, and Teagan, harried and stressed, begged her to see what it was.
Bann Teagan had probably had less sleep than her. Arrived from Denerim two days after the nightmare started, he had been struggling to keep the village from falling apart. She and Murdock had only just managed, but Murdock was out of his depth, and she was an outsider.
Once he'd arrived, less people died during the night and morale started to rise again. He had the family connection to the land and that seemed to draw people to him. As cynical as she was, Elissa couldn't help but admire how he kept everyone together as he did.
But even with his charisma and strength, most could tell they wouldn't last much longer without help. The number of volunteers was plenty, but their equipment was poor or damaged, and without help from the blacksmith, who had barred himself inside his smithy once he learned that no one was willing to risk entering the castle to find his daughter.
No one willing, and no one to spare. Not with the village at siege every night. And every day was spent recovering, and then preparing for the next time…
She sighed, running her hands through her hair, only then realizing that it had come undone from its braid. Almost absently, she rebraided it and coiled back into a bun.
"Auntie?"
Elissa jumped, thankful she'd just finished tying off her hair least she let go. Turning around, she saw Oren behind her, eyes wide and scared.
"Oren, what's wrong? Are you alright?" She rushed over, holding out her arms, and the little boy met her halfway, burying his face into her abdomen.
"You weren't there when I woke up" came the small voice, a tremor making it wobble somewhat.
Her eyes closed, a pool of guilt and worry appearing in her gut.
Oren had, understandably, become very attached to her since the flight from Highever.
It had taken them two weeks of hard travel to reach Redcliffe. While other Banns and Arls might have been closer and given them sanctuary, she ultimately only trusted Eamon to be able to support and protect them, and with his connection to King Cailan, she was sure that justice for her family was guaranteed. But on their arrival, finding Eamon ill and comatose, Isolde panicked and fearful, and Connor near inconsolable, she began to think that they should have gone elsewhere, South Reach perhaps, or Dragons Peak. Dragons Peak was closest, but would have taken them past Amaranthine and Denerim. Too close to Arl Howe's home and his allies. And while Arl Bryland of South Reach knew them, she was not completely certain of his loyalties.
Considering that the man who had been her father's closest friend, and one she considered an Uncle, had tried to kill both her and the one who would be the next Teryn after Fergus, she wasn't taking any chances with who claimed to be friends at present.
Oren, having gotten his shaking under control again, loosened his grip enough to look up at her.
"Where did you go?"
She smiled at him, ruffling his hair. "I had to find Ser Perth for Bann Teagan. Go back inside, Oren. I'll be back later."
Oren's tiny smile, which was rare enough these days, vanished.
"Can't I come with you, Auntie?" His eyes pleaded with her, and Elissa felt herself waver just a little.
"Sorry, dear, not this time."
There was real fear behind the disappointment in her nephew's eyes, but she could not bring Oren on this task.
"I won't be too long. I just have to talk to Ser Perth and check in on Murdock. Then I'll be back."
His face fell completely, but he nodded. Her heart hurt.
She hated denying him. It had been hard enough before the attack; now it was nearly impossible.
She gently took his hand and led him back inside the Chantry, coming across Arunn just past the doors. Oren wrapped his arms around the Mabari's massive head.
A quiet sniffle just to her left caught her attention. She turned to see Kaitlyn, a local woman, crying softly in the corner.
Elissa frowned. Kaitlyn had a brother, she recalled. A handful of years older than Oren, he had been wanting to help with the defense of the village, but was deemed too young.
He didn't seem to be around at the moment. And as Oren buried his face in Arunn's neck, an idea came to her.
She beckoned to Oren and Arunn, and they followed her as she went up to the crying woman.
"Kaitlyn, wasn't it?" The woman gave a watery gasp and looked up.
"I'm not opening this door unless my Valena is on the other side!"
She couldn't be certain, but Elissa could almost see the fumes wafting through the door and the walls.
Elissa stood outside the Blacksmiths, pinching the bridge of her nose and willing the headache to go away. At this point she wasn't sure if the throbbing was from the smell of the alcohol or from exhaustion.
Why did people have to make an already bad situation worse? It would not help anyone, and Owen's action, or inaction regarding repair, certainly didn't make it any easier to find his daughter.
Turning away and walking away from the smithy, she sighed and tilted her face up to gaze listlessly at the sky.
It would be nice to, just once, have someone help just because it was the right thing to do. The villagers had no choice, as their livelihoods and families depended on them fighting every night.
She grimaced. If that were the case, she could not completely blame Owen for shutting his eyes and ears to what was happening outside his smithy. His only child lost and possibly dead in the castle, and no one willing or able to even try to find her.
The grimace turned into a scowl. Understand his despair, she could. But she could not condone his other actions. Hiding at night, and doing nothing but drinking all day, while they barely slept, and struggled to survive. She'd already tried to persuade Dwyn and his men, but had thrown up her hands in disgust and surrender when he'd asked for payment.
Her own grief and despair turned into rage, and suddenly her self-control snapped. And she no longer cared about Owen's feelings or Valena's fate.
Composure gone, Elissa stopped in her tracks, turned and began stalking back to the door. As she reached it, a voice came from behind her.
"Excuse me? Is this where Owen the blacksmith lives?"
She paused, and glanced over her shoulder.
Three strangers stood behind her, one, presumably the one who'd spoken, was slightly ahead of the other two. The man, who looked around her own age, was smiling politely at her, while his hand held a heavy looking staff. Bright blue eyes sparkled from beneath dark curls, and Elissa wondered if his innocent face was genuine, or if he'd cultivated it as she had her stealth.
The two others with him, a blonde man in heavy armour and a dark-haired woman, who also carried a staff, made from twisted wood, hung back slightly. The blonde man looked rather familiar, though for the life of her, Elissa couldn't place where she'd seen him before.
She focused back onto the man in front.
"Yes it is, though it's hard to tell considering he hardly ever comes out these days."
The young man smiled and stepped closer, holding out his hand. She returned the smile, and they shook hands.
"I am Daylen" he said. "Murdoch mentioned that he'd already asked someone to talk to Owen."
Her smile turned wry and somewhat bitter. "Yes, but it is like talking to a brick wall."
Daylen looked behind her. "Or a locked door, as it were."
Her lips twitched despite herself. "Indeed. I could pick the lock, but…" she paused, feeling the throb between her eyes again, and pressed her knuckles to her temple. "I wanted to try talking him out."
Daylen nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face.
"Would you mind if I tried?"
She blinked at him. His hands were behind his back, and benign, almost sweet smile on his face just shone with innocence. The dark-haired woman with him gave a small scoff and rolled her eyes, while the blonde man just sighed and shook his head.
She didn't know what to make of him, or his companions. But he was here, and apparently, offering to help. At that moment, it was enough.
She swept a hand behind her, gesturing at the door. "Be my guest. Maybe you'll have more luck."
Post note:
Let me know what you think guys. Enjoy. I've updated the tags and rating, but they might change later.
