Carnage
Elaine had never killed anyone before. She'd never even been hunting. She was the best shot in Highever – she'd won the Harvest Festival shooting contest three years running – but that was targets. Neat, tidy, uncomplicated, unmoving targets. Well, sometimes they were moving. But, still, nothing could have prepared her for this.
The worst part was the sound. Normally, she loved the whizz of the arrow as it left her bow and the satisfying thwock as it hit a straw target. This was more like a dull, horrifying thunk. And the blood. No one had told her about the blood. Of course, she knew about the blood. If you shoot something, it bleeds. That's just common sense. But when she had retrieved that first arrow from the chest of Howe's guard, it had spurted.
There were bodies everywhere. In the hallways, in the servants' quarters, in the courtyard. In the Chantry, even. Who would commit murder in the Chantry of all places? It was utter madness.
They found her father in the larder. Thank the Maker, he was alive. Wounded, but talking and they would get him out of there and find a healer. But he was being unreasonably stubborn and refused to stand. "Father, get up!" she shouted and then the Grey Warden came in, covered in gore, and her father was telling her it all depended on her now and the Grey Warden was dragging her off and she was kicking and screaming and crying for her daddy.