{1. Defiance} Everything's Just Fine

{6} Bad To Worse

Really didn't know what to expect from Leliana, so I tucked a small knife into my boot on the way out of the cabin that morning.

Stopped at the kitchens and snagged a bowl of porridge and ate with the recruits and the rest of the servants. They were all always up before the sun, dressed and ready for a full days work.

I'd begun to start recognising some of the elves running around Haven. That one who barges in on the Herald after they wake up? Her name's Leda. She's quiet, and always has her head down. She usually works as a runner for Adan, but when she's not doing that she's in the Seamstress hut helping sew blankets and Inquisition standard clothing.

Leda, over the span of my already two week long stay in Haven, introduced me to other elves. Mostly servants. Frank, works in the stables, moved here with his partner Jethon, who works with Threnn on requisitions. Clara and Tate, in the kitchens. They were all... connected. As if for protection they banded together.

They liked me, they thought I could protect myself, and thus them too. It wasn't spoken, but it was there.

Privately, I wandered if I should look for others who had ... crossed over. From my side. Maybe I'd be able to pick them if I asked the right questions. It would he highly likely that they'd seek out Haven. If only out of curiosity, instead of sheer luck like me.

Anyway. Leliana sat me at a desk in her tent (To be honest I think she just wanted to keep an eye on me), handed me a shitty quill and ink (Pens! Who'd have thought I'd miss the humble pen!), pointed me at some papers and asked me to copy out the layouts of the maps from the summarised reports.

Sounds easy right? Wrong! I'm shit at math! And geography! That's why I became a dancer in the first place, I'm no good at anything else!

After an excruciating day with the reports and making the maps that would be send out, she let me leave.

I'd told her I was no servant, and here she was treating me like one? Maybe... I was being too precious about it. Work was work after all. I'm just shit at most jobs.

I slumped down on a chair across from Sera, muttering to myself about how my hand was cramping and I was stoked that Vivienne was still paying me otherwise I'd run for the hills.

"Look at those fingers," Sera snatched my ink-covered hand, even her light grip made the muscles ache, "All black and blue these are."

"Shouldn't've said I could write."

"Then she'd find somewhere else to torture you, Spitfire. Be glad its with a pen and not the sword." Varric interjected, sitting down with two mugs of extremely stinky ale.

He pushed one to me, "Looks like you need it."

Making a face, I pinched my nose and took a sip. It burned the whole way down and then made itself at home in my stomach. "Eugh- Spitfire? That my name now?"

"You like it? It's a reference to your-"

"Hair. Ha ha- very original." It took a few minutes for the drink to take effect, but I was half way through the mug when I hit pleasantly tipsy, and the sun was going down.

I shook out my hands, knowing I shouldn't have touched the stuff, and pushed away from the table. "Gotta go. It's sleep time. Best be off."

"Sometimes I don't understand a word you're saying." Varric laughed, and Sera poked him in response.

"You say that to me too, you know."

The door shut on them, and I was still grinning as I turned around. And jumped as a guy's face was literally right in front of mine.

"Pretty elf servant, moment of your time? I got some chores for you." Templar armour, neat and clean shaven, except his eyes gleamed with a malice that scared me.

I nearly sighed with relief when I remembered the knife in my boot. But backed away from him, "Not a servant, mate. Back the fuck up."

"Yeah, sure. Come down to the soldiers, girl. Make it easy for yourself." He wasn't even tall or armed, but he attempted to loom over me like he was important.

I backed up the steps to the cabin, planning on making a run for it and locking myself inside mine. "As if I'm gonna do that, just fuck off and I'll pretend this never happened." Or better yet, I'll sick Vivienne on you. Won't matter if you're a templar then will it bud? As I spoke I whipped the knife out of my boot.

"Feisty. I like it-"

"Templars who abuse their place deserve whatever punishment is dealt. Against two of us, you do not stand a chance. Leave, before I am forced to use magic." A voice said. Took my mind a second to catch up because of the adrenaline and the alcohol.

As I turned to thank the person who scared the creepy templar off, my face fell.

"Solas."

"Andran atishan. Elaine, is it not?"