Ellyn Amell
Born 9:12 Eluviesta 2 Denerim
1
Alistair woke the next day to the sound of Ellyn rummaging in the courtyard, in Bodahn's wagon. Bodahn was a dwarf that travelled with them, and in exchange for the protection the Wardens provide, the dwarf carried all their extra armour and supplies on his wagon. No room for passengers, unfortunately.
The sound of armour clanging could be heard across the courtyard and into the window of his room that overlooked it. "What are you doing?"
"What does it look like? Come help me, will you?" said Ellyn, looking up from a mishmash of plate she collected. "I have no idea which piece goes with what piece and where. The only thing I know how to put on is templar armour, and impersonating a templar is a crime punishable by hanging, I think."
Alistair laughed heartily out of the window and joined her in the courtyard soon after, dressed in his tunic and trousers. "Are you sure you can do this?"
"Let me show you something. Give me a hug!" Ellyn hummed a spell to herself and opened her arms wide. He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering what that was all about, but stepped into her arms anyway. She brought them around his waist, and after one single squeeze, she picked him up. He squealed like a little girl and she immediately set him down, giggling the whole time while he stared at her as though she just grew horns.
"What just happened and what have you been eating to gain supernatural strength? Magic spinach?" Alistair gaped at Ellyn while she turned back to the pile of metal.
"It's a spell that allows me to use mana for strength. The more power I have as a mage, the stronger I am when I sustain the spell." Ellyn turned to their stock of swords, and picked out a thin blade that was practically a rapier. "Spellweaver. I knew I would be able to use this someday."
"Don't swing that around when I don't have my shield, please. I prefer my insides ... inside." Alistair ducked out of a wild swing that nearly disemboweled him, examining the pile of platemail. "Are you joking? You can't start with plate mail. I was wearing splint only two months ago! It takes a lot of practice to walk in plate."
He was halfway through sorting the medium armour when Ellyn interrupted him. "That green metal – I've seen that before." She laid a hand on the green metal, and felt the magic inside her resonate at the touch. It was the same colour and design as the ones worn by the arcane warriors she saw in her vision. "Where did you get this?"
"In the ruins in the Brecillian forest, guarded by a dragon," Alistair pulled out the matching helm, gloves, and boots. He looked thoughtful for a few seconds, before walking to the other side of the wagon and came back with a shield decorated in the heraldry of Redcliffe. "You might as well learn to use a shield as well. You get hit by arrows way too often."
Ellyn glared at him. He was right, of course. When there were archers, she hid behind Alistair like a scared little girl. "Now, what do I wear under all this metal?"
Three hours and two trips to Wade's later, she was suited up in a set of ancient Elven armour, sword and shield in hand. Alistair found out shortly that Ellyn was a surprisingly quick study. She moved effortlessly and appeared to possess eyes on the back of her head; Ellyn explained it as another layer of vision provided by her ability to 'see' mana. Her sword work, on the other hand, was nonexistent. Ellyn kept hitting things with the flat of her sword and the only time it connected with the training dummy was when she pushed her sword straight forward. "You can't just jab forward repeatedly. Even a Genlock can figure out your moves. You have to learn to feint."
Alistair stood behind her and guided her through the moves; vertical slashes to disarm, horizontal to wound, shield bash to follow. Feint to the head, wait for the block, slash to the legs. He taught her to keep her shield up in front of her chest, just under her eyes. He noticed how small she was – half-crouched in a battle stance, she was more than a full head shorter than him.
The way she laughed seemed completely alien. He had heard her laugh before, of course, but it was different. Adrenaline filled laughter, an unguarded sound of her being simply happy, filled the courtyard, and Alistair found himself having fun. For the first time since he met Ellyn, he was not nervous, scared, frustrated or angry, but comfortable.
2
Ellyn had never felt so free. Yes, she had been free of the Circle for three months, but this – this was different. She was free of magic. Not entirely, of course, she still relied on her connection to the Fade for strength, but with a blade and shield on her back, she was free of the burden of 'mage.' She walked to the left-hand side of Alistair instead of behind him, felt almost like an equal, of sorts, instead of some fragile doll who was to be protected.
She was so used to the label of mage by now,that she expected the glances of suspicion wherever she went. In head to toe armour, Ellyn felt like a different person, her laughter strange to her own ears.
"She's happy." Wynne remarked over dinner, sitting across from Alistair. Ellyn had been so exhausted by the training that she fell asleep in her armour at sundown.
"You sound surprised," Alistair picked up a fresh, steaming half-loaf of bread and practically soaked it in butter. "She called the Circle her 'home.' She wasn't happy there?"
"She was content." Wynne handed Alistair a knife for the bread. He didn't take it, instead started eating the whole half-loaf from the end up. "Alistair, if you're going to be a King at some point, you might want to work on your table manners."
Alistair ignored her chastising and tried to get them back on topic. "I don't think I've ever heard her laugh like that."
"Nor I." Wynne continued. "I can't claim to know her very well – none of us did, save Irving and Anders of course. Looking back on things, I see that Irving tasked her with keeping everyone happy, while she ignored her own state of mind."
"That's ... a terrible way to live." Alistair reached over to the spare plates and began to load it up with more food.
"Arl Eamon wants you to be king, and you have no real say in it. Ellyn was being groomed to be Ferelden's secret weapon against the Orlesians, but I doubt that's what she wants for herself." Wynne stared at Alistair's new plate. The meat was hanging off its sides. "Ellyn will be happy working in a hospital in Denerim, preferably if she also gets to travel into the alienage every week."
"Fighting darkspawn and watching entire villages die wasn't on her agenda, I take it?"
"Not at all. Are you eating all that?" She pointed at the loaded plate: mashed potatoes, roast chicken, sliced ham, steamed vegetables, all of it covered in thick gravy.
"No. This is Ellyn's plate." Alistair balanced the food laden plate on one hand and some cutlery in another. "Somebody's got to take care of our warrior princess."
"Alistair. Need I remind you that she's a mage?" Wynne said, leaning back in her chair as he got up to go. "And you are going to be the King of Ferelden?"
"Yes, yes. And we can all die tomorrow, and if not tomorrow, maybe next week."
Wynne fixed him with a hard stare. "If it comes down to duty to her country or duty to you, she will always choose Ferelden."
"And I would do the same." Alistair turned away and took the most direct route to Ellyn's room. He had already convinced everyone to stay for another week in Denerim, giving him more time to pick up jobs and supplies around town before they leave for Orzammar. The truth was, he was not crazy about going to Orzammar – the place where Grey Wardens went to die.
It could also have been because Ellyn's birthday was coming up in four days, and he wanted to take her to Bann Teagan's estate. There was a rose garden there his last visit, and he was sure Ellyn would like that. His uncle assured penned a missive to Denerim ensuring a welcome for them in his estate, should he chose to stop off along their journey. The garden would just be the icing on the cake, so to speak.
Ellyn's door was open, and he found her as the last time he saw her: lying face down on her bed in full armour. The only thing she bothered taking off was her helm. Once again he was reminded of how young she looked, especially in her sleep. Both of his hands were occupied, so he resorted to kicking her foot with a boot.
"Go away." Ellyn smacked her lips sleepily and turned her face away from him. "It's not morning yet."
Alistair moved the plate back and forth in front of her nose. "Aren't you hungry?"
"My stomach's eating itself just fine, thank you. I have fallen and I can't get up." She raised one arm shakily, then the other, and dropped both back down again. "It hurts."
"That's what happens when you train for six hours non-stop on your first day in armour." He smirked at her, "just wait until you get up in the morning."
"Speaking from experience, I take it?" Ellyn finally managed to push herself up to her forearms, and she stared at the food – using it as a sort of motivational tool – and pushed until she was upright again.
"You have no idea. The first time I was given a real sword and shield, I went at it for over nine hours." Alistair reached out and pulled off her boots as she worked on the numerous buckles. "The muscles I didn't know I had were burning when I got up the next day."
"I can just heal it, I guess." Ellyn pulled off the reinforced gloves, turning them over as she did so. They shimmered beautifully in the candlelight like butterfly wings. "But if I do it'll feel like cheating."
"It hurts a little less everyday if you keep it up. With the way we draw trouble, you'll probably be keeping it up. I wouldn't worry about it."
She munched on a chicken leg thoughtfully, eschewing the utensils for now. "You mean to say that if I just grit my teeth and take the pain, I'll be stronger tomorrow?" Her face broke into a smile, all chicken grease, gravy, and twinkly eyes, "I think I'd like that."
She sat there with her plain grey silk shift and leather tights, grease dripping down her face, smelling of sweat and ... honey, because Ellyn always smelled like honey, and she somehow managed to be everything he could ever want.
There was a part of her that considered herself below any man's attention simply because she was a mage. Wearing armour changed that a little bit, at least with the disguise she could leave her magi status behind, if only until she cast a spell in public.
He wanted to kiss her, chicken grease and all, but it was too soon. Ellyn was friendly and affectionate with everyone, but there was that last wall there that she allowed no one to breach. Alistair was determined to let her know, eventually, that she above all people deserved love. This selfless, insecure slip of a girl who managed to bumble her way through any situation in spite of her inexperience deserved more than he was ever able to give.
Alistair settled with taking her plate at the end of the meal and calling a bath for her before heading off to his room. Maybe the rose garden was a bad idea. Too many romantic connotations. Perhaps he could pick out something at the Wonders of Thedas and throw a party here in the estate. Last time she was here, she spent all her time in the library – excited over ancient maps and war strategy books, of all things.
2
"Fight fair!" cried Zevran. The clang of metal on metal filled the courtyard. It wasn't even seven bells yet, the marketplace in front of the estate deserted in the grey morning light.
"Not if you don't!" Ellyn shouted over the din, turning to one side without looking and blocked a twin dagger strike to the knee, followed by a quick run with her shield, then a feint to the back of the rogue's knees that led to him sprawled on the ground – too easily. She stepped over to help Zevran, only to be flipped onto her back and a dagger placed over her neck in one swift move.
"Never, ever help an assassin up, my dear lady." He withdrew the weapon and pulled her up instead. She held Spellweaver in front of her, mumbled a quick spell, and took a few steps back with slightly bent knees. Not bad for a beginner, thought Alistair as he observed from the shadows behind his window.
He watched in horror as Ellyn shouted a battle cry and the rogue rushed her with both daggers out in a cross slash. She made no move to dodge him. Under his eyes she seemed to shimmer and turn into a ghost, then Zevran's daggers went right through her, followed closely by the rogue himself. As he lost his balance, Ellyn spun on one heel and slashed her sword sideways on the heavy metal part on the back of his armour.
"Yield!" The rogue was on the ground again, and she was jumping up and down in joy.
"That was cheating. Tsk tsk." Zevran shook his head at her and hopped up with a quick roll of his waist. "Eyes on the back of your head and ... whatever it is that you just did. I would hardly call that fair."
"Nope. But I'll live." Ellyn sheathed her sword, signifying the end of the duel for now.
Zevran did the same, the daggers clicking into their clips on his back. "My beautiful and deadly warden. Care to explain what you just did in our little very unfair fight?"
"Combat magic. It's sustained. The more mana I channel into the spell, the more of myself is in the Fade. When I saw you coming at me I just gave myself a few seconds fully in the Fade. You can't fight dreams."
"Somehow I imagined dreams of you would be a little more ... titillating." Zevran leered at her, stepping closer.
"My dreams are rather boring actually. It's all stone walls and empty hallways."
"This tower of yours sounds awfully depressing. It is no place for our beautiful sex goddess." He leaned close to her, stopping mere inches from her face. Alistair considered heading down stairs to rescue her, but -
The look on Ellyn's face was priceless: somewhere between horror and amusement. "... excuse me? I'm hardly -"
"I do not need to repeat myself. You are a beautiful woman, I simply speak the truth." Zevran cut her off, assuming she meant to be humble about her looks.
"The words 'maiden' and 'sex goddess' are mutually exclusive, Zevran." She pointed it out as if explaining vocabulary to a foreigner. "I can't be a virgin and a sex goddess. That wouldn't make any sense!"
"I can remedy that, if you wish. It will be much more enjoyable a first experience for you if you are with someone ... more skilled," Zevran smiled like a wolf, "like I."
Ellyn giggled, chortled, and eventually snorted, probably permanently destroying her 'sex goddess' status in the process. "Oh Zevran. No. You remind me too much of my brother. Especially when you talk like that."
"Oh?" He was momentarily speechless. Alistair had to cover his mouth to avoid giving himself away, or he'd have snorted too.
"You shouldn't feel the need to ingratiate yourself to me, Zevran. You owe me a blood debt. Mages take that kind of thing very seriously." Ellyn patted him on the back with a gloved hand, while Zevran was still locked into that shocked expression. "I spared your life. It means I'm responsible for you."
Ellyn walked back into the estate, all smiles, leaving Zevran bewildered in the courtyard. Alistair couldn't hold it anymore and let out a small chuckle. Zevran gave him a dirty look. "I don't believe I have ever been rejected so ... skillfully. She made it sound like she was doing me a favor."
"For what it's worth, you do remind me of her brother," Alistair shrugged and tried not to look too smug about their little exchange.
"By that you must mean that he is handsome, charming, and roguish, no?" Zevran turned on the charm, this time aiming it straight at Alistair.
"No. I was thinking more along the lines of slippery, full of himself, and indiscriminate." Alistair slipped away from the window, hoping to catch Ellyn in the dining room, "but nice try."
3
Ellyn threw herself into weapons training, restricting for the most part to Alistair's defensive style. Leliana tried teaching her archery, but that proved to be a complete lost cause, since her aim was absolutely terrible; she missed constantly due to the fact that spells travelled in a straight line regardless of wind conditions or range, while arrows depended on physics. Eventually she figured out a way to combine telekinesis with arrows so that they always hit the mark, but it cost more mana than a spirit bolt, which did more damage.
When she wasn't training in armed combat, Wynne worked on filling out the rest of her spirit spells. Primal was a total loss; she was able to conjure all the elements, but they wouldn't leave her fingers, so her Cone of Cold had a range of exactly two inches. They were adequate for things such as sterilizing, cauterizing wounds, and icing swollen wounds, but that was all they were good for.
Once she mastered all the spells she was able to cast, which was anything not destructive, she bent the rest in experimentation. Keeping the effects small, she practised on the rooftop well away from the sight of the chantry.
"Alistair, check this out!" She yelled down from the ledge. He squinted at her, with the sun behind her back. "If this doesn't work, you'll have to catch me!"
"I have to what -" Alistair started, but all he heard was the squeal as she jumped off. The estate had high ceilings, so even though it was only two floors above ground, she was jumping from about thirty-five feet up. He ran up and made to catch her as she fell, but she stopped just short of his arms. "Don't scare me like that!"
Ellyn levitated mere inches above him. Noting his outstretched arms, she reached out and wrapped her own around his neck before dispelling her force field. As soon as the magic dissipated, she landed squarely in his arms in a princess hold before she started babbling at a mile a minute. "So, Fleur was jumping around, and I had this idea, so I cast force field on her, and then she just floated – so I figure I'd try it myself."
"You had to test that from the roof?" Alistair was about to let her down, but Ellyn seemed in no hurry to let go of his neck. He was beginning to notice her need for bodily contact of late – not in an erotic way, but like an animal being scratched. If someone she trusted touched her, she leaned into it like a cat.
Ellyn kicked her legs and jumped down, landing heavily on her feet – rogue she was not, thought Alistair. "It's more fun that way."
"Speaking of fun," Alistair had been planning this for days. "What do you say we ditch training and lessons today and go shopping?"
"Uh... shopping? With you?" Ellyn said with unsubtle incredulity.
"Is that a no?" Alistair stumbled over his words a little at the possible rejection.
"No. I just wasn't expecting that from you. That was totally something Leliana would say." Ellyn put on an Orlesian accent that was more Isode than Leliana, "'let's ditch lessons today and go buy new shoes!'"
Alistair chuckled, "do you want to buy new shoes? I'm sure Wade can come up with something."
"I'm not sure if I want to wait six months for new boots. I do want to go shopping though." She contemplated for a moment, "there was this pastry shop I saw here last time that had these multiple layer cakes that Sten would absolutely love. I wanted to pick up some hair ribbons last time for Leliana but we didn't have time ..." Ellyn started counting off the things she wanted to buy.
Alistair listened and wondered if he should have had vellum with him to record the entire list down. This was going to be one big shopping trip. "Don't you want anything for yourself?"
"Hmm?" She stopped mumbling over what to buy, instead turned to Alistair with a vague, blank expression that was strangely unsettling. "Um, no. I don't need anything."
"I asked you if you wanted anything. Sure, we have everything we 'need.' We probably picked up enough lyrium dust to keep all the templars in Ferelden high for a month, enough dry biscuits and beef for the deep roads for six, extra blankets and such in case it gets too cold," Alistair listed off some of the things he had been preparing while Ellyn was unconscious. "But what do you like? You know, if I want to get you something for, um, Satinalia, what would you like?"
"Satinalia's not for another seven months, Alistair."
"Summerday, then." Alistair pressed on, even though he had a distinct feeling that the look on Ellyn's face resembled that of a mouse being cornered by a very hungry cat.
Ellyn's eyes darted to the left, and then to the right, avoiding his gaze. No one had ever asked her what she wanted before. When Anders got her a present – flowers, stuffed animals, and so on – he simply gave without asking her opinion. Being asked what she wanted also brought up strange flutters in her heart that wasn't nice at all. "Books? And, um, maps?"
"Anything specific? You like books, I like food, but I specifically like cheese. What kind of books do you like?"
She almost blurted out 'history' or 'warfare,' and stopped herself just in time. They weren't books she wanted. They were books she had to read under tutelage. If she wanted a book, it would be the one that Anders used to read to her, the one with all the fairy tales. That sounded incredibly childish, so she gave it a slight change. "I like books on folk lore."
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He gave her a lopsided grin.
They spent most of the afternoon in the market disguised as themselves: mage and templar escort. While she browsed the wares, Alistair watched her, noticing which stall she spent most of her time at, the trinkets she was most interested in. Ellyn nearly broke into a run when she saw the Orlesian bakery, where the delicate cream and butter pastries were arranged in neat rows behind thin sheets of Antivan glass.
The outside of the shop belied the treasures within; there were confections made of spun sugar, marzipan bunnies, chocolate truffles, delicate saffron biscuits, meringue cookies amongst the soft breads and cakes. Ellyn ended up buying out much of the fresh limited stock and had it sent to the estate. "Sten will love this place!"
It was near supper time and she still hadn't gotten herself anything. "Do you want to go to the Wonders of Thedas? Wynne wanted me to pick up some recipes."
Dinner was cold by the time they got back. Ellyn found Sten sitting in the library with a plate of meringue and spice cookies, munching appreciatively. The rest of the treats were lined up all along the table. Ellyn took the biggest plate and loaded it down with cream puffs and layered cake. She exchanged a moment with Sten, her grinning cheekily, him silent, but she spotted his too subtle smile nonetheless, before she took the plate to her room.
Alistair turned the book over and over in his hand. It was written in Arcanum, which the tranquil proprietor assured that a Circle mage would be able to read. There were colour illuminations along with every opening section, gold and silver leaf worked into the parchment. Flipping through the pages randomly, he came upon an illustration of a princess in a tower, her incredibly long golden hair hanging out of a small window, and a prince at the foot of the tower with one arm stretched out.
It struck him rather oddly, that the tower looked a lot like Kinloch Hold, and the princess resembled Ellyn. Then again, she had classic noble features, and the Circle Tower was built by Tevinters. Maybe he could point it out to her later.
The fact that he had no idea what was written in it, other than the fact that it was a collection of folklore from Tevinter, kept him from knocking on their adjoining door. He kept the room even after she awoke from her long sleep. After almost losing her not once, but twice, he wasn't taking chances. He stood in front of the door and fidgeted, thinking up excuses for the month early Summerday gift, when he heard the sound of something being thrown at the wall.
Most men would retreat to the sitting room in this situation, getting as far away from the angry female as possible, but not Alistair. Without thinking, he opened the door with a single warning knock.
Ellyn huddled in the middle of her four-poster bed, staring at the silver plate that landed on the carpet after hitting the wall. The carpet was a mess; layered cake now disassembled were scattered all over, along with globs of butter cream. Alistair stepped around the mess gingerly, stopping at the side of the bed. She didn't seem to notice him. He leaned in a bit closer and touched her on one shoulder. She was shaking.
Alistair sat down next to her on the bed, and she slid toward him a little from his weight on the mattress. "Ellyn?" He called to her, but her attention remained firmly on the silver plate. When she did eventually turned her face to him, there was a fear in her eyes that he never saw in there before, not even while facing Uldred.
"I ... didn't mean to do that." Ellyn pointed at the discarded pastries. "I'm sorry I made a mess."
"Don't worry about it. Fleur will love cleaning that up." If she was adamant in pretending nothing was wrong, so would he, but he wasn't about to leave her alone with the evil hysteria-inducing sweets. "Do you want to -"
"No." She snapped at him. "There's nothing to talk about. It was an accident."
How would one describe a memory that did not exist or that some things simply gave her emotions without context? How was she supposed to know what it all meant – the Chantry gave her peace, cream puffs made her frightened, who knew what would make her strike out in terror? Anders remembered things all the way back to when he was four or so, and she could not remember anything before six. There was a gap there, where she apparently learned how to walk and talk and all of those childhood things, without actually remembering anything at all.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?"
Alistair was momentarily thunderstruck. Then of course, the realization kicked in. When someone like Ellyn said 'sleep with me' that was exactly what she meant, and if one was to joke about it, it would only serve to make her feel dumb. "Of course you can."
Alistair tucked her into his bed and lain on top of the blankets, holding her hand until she finally fell asleep. Maybe all mages were mad to a certain degree, and it diminished with age. Or maybe only the sane ones lived to be as old as Wynne. Considering the amount of death Ellyn had seen in the past few months, it wasn't surprising if she went a little crazy.
She twitched in her sleep beside him, and he figured that it was probably a nightmare. Alistair stroked her hair and watched as the little furrow between her brow disappeared. Not for the first time in their journey, he wanted to know what went on in that head of hers. Ironically, as did she.