In League With The Wolf - The Elves of Fen'Harel Book 2 (Dragon Age)

Search for Blood

Skyhold was flourishing. Construction workers hammered night and day, the ceaseless banging fading into the background of her consciousness as pilgrims arrived day by day, curious onlookers signing on, swearing oaths of loyalty to the new Inquisitor.

Tilda didn't envy Ellana the position. The Dalish elf worked too hard already. She had no love of the spotlight, and didn't even share the religion that was propagated around her. No one seemed to care, and Lavellan herself had acknowledged that the job was bigger than herself. She spent her days running from one crisis to the next, closeted in the war room with advisors, or out in the field.

Her friends too, Varric and Solas, seemed endlessly busy too. She had barely seen them since their arrival in the ruined castle. They were either busy with personal errands or out with the Inquisitor.

Her injuries were healing. Her broken bones, put back together with magic, were a little weak, but otherwise fine. Her shoulder still looked raw, but the wound to her head was almost gone. So many hadn't been as lucky as she.

The courtyard had been set up as a temporary infirmary, and so many had died, either on the way to Skyhold, or on their arrival.

She felt guilty to have survived, and still hopeless. Her few weeks were almost up. Already she could feel Flemeth's herbs wearing off, her moods fluctuating. She had no told no one that she was stricken with the Blight, wanted no one to realise just how dire her situation was.

The most infuriating part perhaps was that the blood of the powerful darkspawn her mother had asked her to get had been in her grasp, right until the dragon had thrown her through a roof.

There was only one thing to be done.

"Leliana?" Tilda called out softly to the hooded woman, in her element among the spies in Skyhold's rookery. Leliana looked up from a letter with a small smile.

"Tilda, my friend." Leliana answered. "How are you recovering?"

"I'm fine." Tilda answered, already tired of people asking her that. "I was asking for permission to go actually. To Haven." She continued at the spymaster's raised eyebrow. "Salvage and spy."

"Funny you should say that." Leliana answered. "The Chargers are planning to leave this afternoon on that very same mission. Great minds...but you don't need permission Tilda. You're not officially an Agent of the Inquisition. You swore no oath to us. If you want to go, go. No one will mind after your sacrifice at Haven." She tilted her head. "But why do you want to to go? If the Chargers are going, you can rest."

"I..." She couldn't admit the real answer. "I just want to see it, I suppose." Leliana, busy as she was, was satisfied, already turning over another report as she left the tower.

Bull, like Leliana, questioned her readiness for such a mission. "You were buried in an avalanche last week." He pointed out. "And no offence, but we don't need you. We'll be there and back in no time at all."

"I planned to go on my own." Tilda retorted. "I'm not exactly trying to sign up as a Charger. If you don't get in my way, I won't get in yours."

Bull sighed, "Such a sucker for redheads." He muttered. "Fine, come with us. But nothing reckless. I've heard enough stories about you."

It took most of the afternoon, for the journey through the mountains was hazardous. Tilda enjoyed the fresh,cold air, only skidding a little on the ice. The storms had abated, and it was gloriously sunny day, the light reflecting in dazzling arrays on the snow.

The Chargers were a noisy bunch, always talking, always joking with one another. They moved, not like an army, but in cliques of friends, chattering amongst themselves. Bull led at the front, Krem at his side.