The Elf had one job. She had to protect the Theirin bloodline and here she was, on her knees. She was bruised and bloodied and was barely able to keep conscious. Her long auburn hair, matted and battle swept, blew about her face catching on her lashes, her vividly green eyes with a golden hue, usually bright, clear and always surveying her surroundings, now staring at a ghastly view. Were clouded with exhaustion and a feeling of trepidation. Whilst King Cailan's corpse was strung up before her by the Darkspawn.
At Ostagar the unthinkable had happened. Where was Loghain? He was supposed to aid the king. She was sure King Calenhad would have been turning in his grave at this very moment. That particular King was the one whom she promised to help, well, in exchange for him to leave the other Elvhen and never to speak of them. Or tell anyone that there were still pockets of them that were untouched by the Imperium. For these particular Elvhen did not age like others, all of them possessed magic but not all used it, and all that were left were the best warriors and protectors of the long lost temples and burial grounds, the ones even the Dalish had forgotten. She had helped Calenhad unite Ferelden under his name and, unable to return home, she had stayed at Calenhad's side, in the shadows. She had only followed the males of the Theirin bloodline, as Calenhad had asked her to serve him and his heirs to the throne, which strictly meant the male side of his bloodline. She hadn't even followed Maric's mother, Moira.
Being tied to the Theirin bloodline, swearing her fealty to Calenhad with a blood oath, she felt the moment in which Cailan fell, her entire being shook and she looked across the battlefield to nothing but slaughter. She ran through it, cutting down any Darkspawn in her way. Her eyes roamed the hills, where was Loghain? Loghain was supposed to flank the force. Loghain had managed to get Cailan to order Sunny, through the woods and attack at the rear when the beacon was lit to cause confusion before Loghain's unit attack came. But the flank never came and Cailan was killed. Sunny had to flee and return when most of the Darkspawn had moved on and she could get to Cailan. By the time she got to her King the damage had already been done. His body hung there, impaled on a stand as a trophy, his body bloating with the beginnings of decay and a horrid smell emanating from him joining with the decay of the battlefield. Sunny placed wards to warn off the weaker Darkspawn and knelt in front of the deceased king's body. Theirin's bloodline had ended and she was unable to return home, she was lost and didn't know where to turn, she already knew she would not follow Anora Mac Tir. They detested each other.
She didn't know how long she knelt there but she could hear the Darkspawn dying in the distance, weapons were shrieking as they met iron and bone, the faint thud of arrows hitting there mark as well as the unmistakable whooshing and distinct crackle of magic flying through the air. they tripped every ward she had set, so she knew they were at the mouth of the bridge before she could hear them. The first voice she heard was distinctly male and definitely Ferelden.
"Does anyone else feel like we shouldn't be here? Like, not because of the Darkspawn, but just be somewhere very far from here" a nervous chuckle followed.
An Orlesian woman answered "I feel it too, I'm assuming it is more than just a feeling, seeing as all of us are affected."
An elderly woman replied "I believe magic is at work here."
A smirk came to Sunny's lips as she stood as best she could to her full height. Giving them a sidelong glance as they breached the horizon of the bridge she watched their expressions become wary as they noticed she was there. Their steps slowed to a stop as they were talking amongst themselves, trying to suss whether Sunny was a threat or just simply, who she was. Her leg screamed at her as she stood but she had many years to hide the pain from her face.
"Why are you here, shemlen?" she smirked as the four in front of her stiffened at the deadly intent that hung in the air almost palpable from her voice. A young woman in full armour stepped forward, removing her helmet as she did so. Her voice was commanding and clear, she was well educated and very much so the leader of this group.
"We fought here. At Ostagar. We returned to…" her eyes flickered toward Cailan's body and her words trailed off.
"To do more damage than you already have, Warden." Sunny snarled.
The group exchanged glances, before the Ferelden man also removed his full helmet to speak."This was not us. This was not the wardens. Loghain is-"
"Before you finish that sentence. Do you even know the implications of what you say? you are saying that the friend and trusted general who helped King Maric reclaim his throne, has killed Marics only son and heir." She had heard the rumours as she was trying to return to Cailan, followers of Loghain shouted of the Warden's fault, but underneath that, there were whispers. Loghain had sounded the retreat leaving the King, his daughter's husband, to fall. She knew deep down that may very well be possible, Maric was told that every betrayal from Loghain would be worse than the last, and the only other betrayal larger than killing his son, was losing his home, Ferelden, and with a Blight staring them down whilst they were in the jaws of civil war made it seem very likely.
"Yes, I do. He did." The man seemed to be trying to hold his anger in check. That was until Sunny started to remove Cailan from the hastily made crucifix. "What are you doing? who are you?" his voice started to up a pitch as he spoke.
"I am not of your concern, Shemlen." She hoisted Cailan over her shoulder and pain flitted across her face, then she heard the unsheathing of a sword, her exceptionally green eyes met the golden brown of the man, above the glinting tip of his sword, that he held with confidence at her chin. A chorus of his name sounded. Alistair had stepped forward, breaking him from the group's formation.
"What would an elf want with the human King's body?" the tip of his sword was mere inches from her throat. She gently placed the king back down, laying and closing his eyes. Whispering to him.
"Atish'an."
She stood to her full height which surprised Alistair, as he realised she matched his height which was unnerving, but nowhere near as unnerving as her eyes that pierced him, he felt his heart in his throat and before he knew it she had moved raising her left hand in a flickering motion and her right pulled a three pronged blade from a sheath at her hip. She lunged it forward catching Alistair's unsuspecting blade between the prongs and twisting it from his grasp, she could feel the crack of his wrist through her own blade. Her left hand grabbed Alistair's broken wrist and a small whine escaped him. He was too scared to move, trying to keep his wrist as still as possible, but he was also worried that the elf was wide eyed and staring at him now. He hazarded a look over his shoulder as to why his comrades hadn't come to his aid. They seemed to be behind a glowing wall, a field that stopped them passing through not for lack of trying.
"Who are You , Shemlen?" Her voice was soft and dreamlike, Alistair couldn't drop her gaze, he was swimming in her eyes, he could hear his comrades calling to him asking him if he was alright but he couldn't stop looking at the auburn haired elf. "Who was your Father, Shemlen?"
"Alistair, my name." his voice seemed far away, even to himself, had she used magic, had she entranced him, was she a desire demon. She didn't smile, but he found that didn't make her any less exotic and beautiful.
She looked at him and there was so much Maric in him, So much Cailan, could Maric have really lain with another? His eyes weren't the same blue of Marics and Cailan, they were honey, golden brown, but the shape, and the way he looked at her was the same when the other Theirins looked at her. But he was a Warden, she could feel the taint tingling under her fingers and confusion crossed her features.
"Alistair, do you know who your father was, was it Maric?" This had snapped him out of whatever reverie she had managed to sway him into. Shock now appeared on his features as he looked into her eyes and her expressionless face. Did she mean King Maric? how did she know? Or was it just a lucky guess? But then why would you ask the next random blonde haired Ferelden if the king was their father.
"What? But how, why?" He watched as a light enveloped his broken wrist and the pain ceased immediately, she interlocked her fingers with his moving his wrist, slowly in circles and left and right, and up and down.
"Does it hurt anymore?" her voice low and calm, as if not to spook him. Like he was a child.
"No. Thank You." He mumbled, feeling stupid. He was thanking the woman who broke his wrist. He heard the field dissolve behind him with a crackling and fizzing noise and his comrades came to his side slowly, the elf dropped his hand and put her arm across her chest, bowing slightly.
The protests of his companions blew up now, but as they were all talking her eyes never left his even as she sheathed her blade. His fellow Warden demanded her attention and Sunny's eyes snapped to hers. The female warden faltered in her speech for a second, he was glad that it was not only him who was caught off guard by the elf's stare.
"Who are you?" the female warden spoke, the authority of a noble in her voice.
"Sunny." the elf replied simply.
"Right." The Warden's annoyance flickered in her voice "Well how do you know about Alistair?"
"I serve the king, I am his sword and his shield." Sunny stated, matter of factly.
"You didn't serve Cailan very well then. Did you?" The Warden smiled. Alistair's head snapped back to the elf, how could his fellow warden speak to someone like that? Especially when she had disarmed him with ease and seemingly had magic that could best Wynne just as easily. But the elf's features did not change at all. "But that doesn't explain why you would know of Alistair."
"And you need not know about me. Warden." Sunny spat the word as if it were an insult before she turned back to Alistair. "Loghain made sure Cailan sent me as far away on the battlefield as possible, ensuring I could not get to him in time. I did not think Maric would lay with another, but I felt your wrist snap just as I felt Cailan fall, you must be Theirin, and if you are, I am no longer lost and still have a king to serve."
"Shouldn't you serve Anora, the Queen, if the king has fallen?" the female warden said.
"No." Sunny said without turning to look at her, Alistair had to bite back a laugh. The elf wasn't intending to be funny, but everyone they had met had rather speak to his friend than himself, which was fine with him. But it was a nice change to have someone's attention on himself with disregard for his companions, after being looked down on for the majority of his life, it was nice to be looked up to. "I serve the king, as we have since Calenhad, he asked me to follow the sons, and that is what I shall do. Besides, I have no wish to follow Mac Tir." Alistair believed Sunny disliked Loghain even more than him, if possible.
"But I'm not the king." Alistair waved his hands in front of him and anger took over the elf's features for a split second.
"You have the blood of Calenhad flowing through your veins, you have a duty to Ferelden to take her reins and lead her. Your Father did not fight the usurper to have you let her flounder." Sunny's voice was low, serious.
"I'm a Grey Warden, I am doing my duty, I'm fighting a Blight." Alistair's voice went extremely high pitched.
"If you do not take the throne, there will be no Ferelden to protect from any Blight. Loghain will run her into the ground before he knowingly lets Orlesian boots walk her soil." The group went silent as Sunny and Alistair glared at one another. The Warden thought it best to sort King Cailan's body and then return to camp to discuss the next move, and said as much before Alistair lost his already failing nerve under the elf's iron stare.