A Lie's End

293 13 0
                                    

She cast a quick look over her shoulder, watching as hands lifted Avery's still body onto the pyre. There should be a proper funeral for him, he was of the crown and with noble blood, but...they had hundreds of darkspawn bodies to clean up as well, and their campsite was a disaster. Rosamund heaved a sigh and tried to run a hand over her hair.

"My Lady," one of the scattered, then discovered, handmaidens grabbed onto her ichor coated arms and pulled them down. "Please, not until we've had a chance to wash you."

Her head nodded dumbly, but she kept staring at the dead flocked by the living. They didn't lose many, thank the Maker, but each loss stung. In twisting, she spotted the squires piled together -- all of them seemed to be slapping Gavin and the dwarf on the back. The former had his arm wrapped in a tight bandage, which Myra assisted with. Though, once the battle was over and the day finished by Henry and his men, her stalwart, caustic tongued sister wrapped her arms around Rosie and babbled something she could barely understand.

It was funny. She'd been solid through it all. Didn't scream or cry at Avery's demise, kept up the barrage of arrows even while the darkspawn swarmed over people about to rend them limb from limb, but watching Myra break down did her in. Strong, never wavering Myra, shattered her resolve. By the time the sisters glanced up, wiping tears from their eyes, Rosie caught Anjali's look. The assassin shrugged a shoulder, then winced in pain. Crimson blood dribbled from her shoulder, a tear in her leathers evident. Rosie wanted to rush over and tend to it, to thank her for shielding her from so many attacks, but Henry returned.

Cousin Henry, sort of-cousin, was tall but elegant. He didn't swagger but seemed to glide even while in armor, a hand always gripping to the sword at his side, a helmet of the realm clutched in the crook of his arm. He bore an easy smile, which he'd share to any and all, and a softness of the heart much like his father's that was known throughout Ferelden.

"We've done what we could to cut the throats and pile the darkspawn up for burning. I suggest soon before their rot infects further than it needs to," Henry slid closer to Rosie and placed a foot upon a barrel.

She nodded her head, "That's the order I gave. A lucky thing you were here to help or..." Deep inside she didn't want to weigh how close it could have been, even as they all fought tooth and nail for their lives.

"Luck nothing," Henry sighed, brushing a weary hand up his face and knotting back the red hair. "We'd been hunting these darkspawn for weeks. Chasing them all up and down the cursed Hinterlands. I hoped to catch the creatures when they emerged out of their holes but never imagined your caravan would be here or trapped in the middle."

"I doubt the darkspawn did either," Rosamund said. She caught her brother standing a bit off to the side, a hand wrapped around his upper arm. He said he wasn't injured, but he refused to remove it. Worried about blight, Rosie asked around and her people said that no one attacked them after the squires and mage rescue. Cailan just needed to hold himself for a bit.

Squires and mage. She knew all too well who that group was. Myra was orbiting near Gavin but not quite walking near him. The pair must have taken it upon themselves, and another, to rise to defend the caravan. Even Henry was impressed when he was told they managed to fend off the attack upon the arms. When the body gathering group drug an emissary onto the pile, he whistled and his eyes grew wider.

A voice cut through the stench of charred flesh and souls leaving across the veil. Rosie turned to find Ser Daryan standing as tall as she could, the woman looking little worse for the wear given how coated in ichor everyone else was. "Ser Daryan," Rosamund called, waving the woman over.

Cold blue eyes churned through the much younger face, but Daryan did as commanded. "Yes, your highness?"

"I'd like an explanation of what exactly occurred," Rosie said, her hands patting into her stomach. She could feel Henry staring from his short cousin over to the towering woman in armor. Barely dinged or dirtied armor.

A New HeroWhere stories live. Discover now