"Raen, get up!" The servant woman's greyed auburn hair flicked in her face as Raen struggled out of her grasp. The fact that Mrs Kilarn's hair was not in its usual unruly braid was unusual, let alone the fact she was waking Raen in the middle of the night. But the girl had never slept easily alone and was easily roused.
"Maker's Breath, Brea, What is it?" She yawned, pushing a few slightly wet tendrils of hair from her face. Colds sweats were the least of her worries now. The other woman paid little attention to her, busily gathering anything that shone into a bag by the light of a single candle. Her hands were shaking and Raen grabbed the candle before the woman burnt her favourite dress. Beneath them something rumbled, a deep and dark sound that forced her out of bed, knocking her toe upon the bedside table. It couldn't be a dragon, could it?
"Put this on, quickly, leave the other behind. You're lucky your father sends you gold instead of goods, Maker, that was the wisest decision you ever made." The older woman held onto the various objects and purses she's collected as if they were her own children, whispering for Raen to make haste as she pulled the servant's tunic over her head. The clothes reminded her of those she had arrived at the Circle with, all those years ago, when she was somebody else.
"Alright, now grab that staff and pray to Andraste that we don't need it."
Raen grudgingly did as she was told, the staff had done nothing but collect dust since her Harrowing, laying upon her desk. It was the sort that shifted from one size to another, a gift. The tower stairs began to shake ever so slightly as they descended into darkness, stopped only by Mrs Kilarn near knocking Ser Elionn unconscious with a bag of gold as he came rushing towards them.
"What in Andraste's name are you doing, Captain? Shouldn't you be quelling the rebellion?!" Mrs Kilarn was clearly unhappy with the current state of things.
"We can't quell an inferno the mages didn't create...directly. The tower's stone so there's no chance it'll topple upon us all yet, Ma'am, so I'd advise you to get a hold of yourself." He didn't look at the elderly woman as he spoke though, only tried, most hopelessly to convey with his eyes what he felt in his heart. She would have to choose. But hadn't she already chosen?
He seemed so useless, just standing there, perhaps he needed a push. "Where do we go?" Raen asked, in the most desperate tone she could summon.
"Yes, we must get you as far away from the tower as possible, they'll come for the Phylacteries next and unfortunately that's where we are now. Come," he turned and began to move, no cloak streaming out behind him as there was the first time she's followed him around the Circle. She had clung to it then, the shame of it still made her grit her teeth. They moved silently through the corridors, pausing occasionally in anticipation of a reckoning that didn't come. Ellion had his sword raised, and it flashed in the dim candlelight.
Raen hardly noticed the icicle piercing his side, yet the one protruding from the chest of Mrs Kilarn was hard to miss. It didn't make sense, the tower was burning, that shouldn't be there. It was wrong. Brea Kilarn wasn't a Templar, that wasn't fair. The mage who had cast the spell stood opposite her, a look of triumph lit his features with cold light. The room smelt of blood, Raen could feel his eyes upon her widen in surprise, this was a serving girl he hadn't seen before. Raen held Mrs Kilarn's body upright until she no longer saw the sense in it. A second mage had appeared and the first spoke quickly, "I think I found you girl in the tower, Sabine", before he turned on Raen. He spoke, his arms were moving, his staff ablaze with the same ice Ellion was attempting to pull from his side. She did not hear him, she heard the silence of Mrs Kilarn, dead at her feet. It was louder than thunder. The silence needed breaking. That mage needed breaking. The pressure built, she was artful, as she always had been, pulling the large, wicked looking frozen blade from the heart of Mrs Kilarn and walking to where the mage stood. She took him by surprise, a woman holding a staff only moments before now approached him with a blade of sorts. She moved quickly, pressing him against the wall in a single movement driving the icicle between his ribs. There was no time to raise a ward, no time to fight back, before an unimaginable cold gripped his heart, the sense of freedom, of accomplishment for the first time in his life still lingered as he slipped into darkness. At least he'd taken a couple of Templar's with him.
"Dabin! No, no, you can't leave us!" the other mage, Sabine, wailed. Dabin could no longer hear her. Raen thought about raising him, having him wrap his burnt hands about the other girl's neck until she surrendered the will to go on, only for the briefest of moments. There was a better plan, she decided, as she glanced at Ellion lying motionless upon the stone ground. This time summoning blue flames that soothed the harsh noise in her mind. The blue flames grew from her fingertips , she needed no staff. The mage broke the silence as she died, brought her back to herselfThe mage looked almost picturesque, draped, unrecognisable, over her comrade in a display of pitiable solidarity. But that wasn't what she was going for. The now unidentifiable girl was too hot to carry over to where Raen had stood beside her now dead confidante, so Raen simply stood opposite her and blasted her into place, creating quite a display the Templars, and indeed other mages, would find horrifying come morning. If they were ever found, that is. As she stood, in the stillness of remembering something she had done long ago, she barely noticed the elf as he rounded the corner. He must have been running after Sabine, or running from a Templar or two, though they were thankfully nowhere to be seen.
The young man stood and stuttered for what seemed like an age, putting together the pieces in his mind. "You, you're the girl in the tower, aren't you? You did this?" his eyes were rimmed with tears. She shrugged, ever so slightly, "I did some." He didn't seem to hear, just stared, mouth agape at the scene. She had slammed him against the wall with the same haste and precision as she had his companion. "Please don't kill me", he whispered, so quietly as a tear smeared the ash upon his face.
"I'm not going to kill you" she could work this to her advantage. "You're going to stay right here, you're going to protect any servant that comes your way and you're going to survive. Do you understand? I need you to survive because you're going to do something for me…"
Ellion was slipping in and out of consciousness, the world around him faded from black to white as he struggled to focus. The pain wasn't so bad, it was difficult, however, to keep one's eyes open when one had lost so much blood. Sometimes he thought he could see Raen, but then she was gone, engulfed by the dark. He could see her now, in the steady light of her suite, cowering from him as he placed his sword upon the ground. She'd gripped his cloak only moments before, frightened. He could see her eyes glow as she smiled for the first time. He could see her dressed for dinner, asking whoever was on guard inside, no matter the roster. He saw her wake, her chest rising and falling upon the bed as she beckoned him over, looking slightly less composed than she usually did. He saw her illuminated by Chantry stained-glass, dressed in pale finery that looked out of place against her bronzed skin, she was waiting for him. The visions would disappear as quickly as they had come, until they were finally replaced with comfortable darkness.
The elf wasted no time in enacting the plan the girl had put forth, he cleaned the wound of the injured Templar, praying to whatever god would listen that it would earn him some leniency as she had suggested. He was lucky, he knew that, lucky she didn't kill him, lucky he was a healer that could do more than wait for the human man to die, taking his chance of survival with him. The Templar came to surprisingly quickly, asking for someone named Raen. "Shh, Ser, I don't know who that is but…" the elf was always better with patients than actual people.
"Alin?" Ser Ellion asked, the elf was surprised the man knew his name.
"Yes, Ser. I'm afraid you've been wounded, badly. Your companions were beyond help when I arrived. I - I saw the girl die, I tried to help but she was already... " The news seemed to shock him somehow, perhaps he hadn't remembered they were in the midst of a rebellion, Alin should have started with that. The man attempted to rise, to look over Alin's shoulder at the bodies of Mrs Kilarn and what he was to assume was the girl from the tower. Alin let him get a glimpse, before gently pushing him back down. The Templar did not appreciate that and roughly pushed past Alin, dragging himself over to the unrecognisable body. He drank in the scene, coughing and spluttering at the foul taste of it. He reached over, clutching a staff Alin had not seen before. It had been broken against the wall and pressed into Sabine's burnt hand.
Raen had been grateful it had been an apprentice that had found them, the plan wouldn't have worked had someone not been there to verify her death. And by the sound of it, Ellion had just received the news. She had stayed out of sight, to confirm her plan had worked. It had, as had the Mages', scored by the shattering of hundreds of glass Phylacteries. She thought she ought to have felt something as she turned away from his cries, but as the choked and harsh sound of her name faded to nothing, she could only half-heartedly note every crack in his voice, every step it took until she reached the docks.
Every piece of gold she doled out at the Harbourmaster's clinked with the sound of the unknown.
"Rivain, eh?" The Harbourmaster chuckled, "It's not everyday we have a young girl going to Rivain, is it Nessie?" he smiled at a girl of about ten perched upon the counter who was plating with what looked to be a small ship whittled out of wood, rocking it on a piece of cloth as if it were in the midst of a storm. "No Papa."
"I'd like to leave as soon as possible, please." She wasn't waiting around for the Templars to scour the countryside for escaped mages, not when she knew them all by name.
"Aye, Miss, we'll get you on your way tonight, if you're lucky. I daresay Cap'n Horn will leave within the hour. Do you have any luggage?" he chortled.
"No Sir." She gave smile despite herself, he spoke in the same rounded tones as Mrs Kilarn. Somehow this made her sad, it must have been visible for the child picked up the burgundy cloth she had been using to rock the boat and handed it to Raen. "You can have this, I've got a blue one that's much better."
"Thank you. I'll wear it with pride." It smelt of salt and brine, mixed with the smoke of a fire. It wasn't fine material, it was rough like the simple clothes she now wore. The girl wouldn't know how fitting the gift was, it would hide her dark golden hair, her most noticeable feature besides her eyes, from any suspecting Templars or soldiers. As Raen wrapped it around her head, in a tighter fashion than she had seen the maids at her father's house wear such things. The child laughed, "You're a ship, and it's you flag atop your mast, Miss!"
It was quite easy to smile back at the child, nodding at the aptness of the metaphor. Raen then pulled her hair to the left and attempted to pull the long, unruly waves into a braid, as she'd watched Mrs Kilarn do, though she'd loved to do anything but a braid most days. "Can I do it? I can teach you while I do it." the child wondered aloud.
"That might be best." Raen agreed, she had never done it herself before. Nessie's father was busy now with Raen's papers but laughed at his daughter's easy manners. The child worked quickly, sayign a rhyme to help Raen remember 'right hand over, left hand over' until she had finished and expertly worked two strands from under the cloth, one on each side of her face. She was obviously proud of her handiwork.
"Now, Miss, what name shall I put on the papers here? They won't ask on the ship, they'll just call you 'miss' or 'lass' but it's my duty to record the names of those going and coming in case of emergency."
The young woman was careful not to show any hesitancy, any sign of doubt before she replied. "Sabine, my name is Sabine."