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Description
    A soldier plowed through a number of darkspawn, pushing through as many as possible with their wooden shield. Another soldier tried to cut through the endless horde and dwindle numbers. Archers shot arrows into the array, mages cast firestorms to make the tainted creatures falter. Metal clinked together and blood was spilled. But it was not enough. It was never enough. The darkspawn kept attacking, eventually to break and push through the front line. The army held their own, but it was quickly turning into a slaughter. The archdemon appeared and let out a mighty roar that caused the soldiers to tremble in their boots. Then, like a gift from the Maker, Grey Wardens came from the skies riding on the backs of gryphons and quickly turned the tide of battle.
   Children squealed in delight.
   Shaking her head, Chantal scoffed. Darkspawn didn’t really look like that, did they? The archdemon didn’t look all that menacing, and Grey Wardens weren’t powerful, they were traitorous. But, what she could she expect? It was a puppet show performed by some foreign traveling entertainers. It was for children - they performed shows about varies events in Thedasian history for the ‘education of the children’. It was the third one this week, and Rhiannon insisted on seeing this one, too. No matter. Rhiannon being busy and entertained by the puppeteers gave Chantal time to work on her latest project.
   She winced, and pulled a needle point out of her finger. “Not again...” she muttered bitterly before sticking her bleeding digit in her mouth. While waiting for the bleeding to stop, Chantal decided to take a look at the progress of this project. It was a cloth doll that would be stuffed with rice. The slightly lopsided face was stitched on haphazardly, but she could say that about the rest of her sewing job. The doll didn’t look horrific, but... the darkspawn puppets looked prettier. The head was too big for the body. An arm and a leg were longer than the other, but both arms were still too long and both legs were still too short. Well, it was almost done now. She could try making another one later if it really bothered her too much. She sighed though; weren’t mothers supposed to be able to do this kind of thing? She filled it with the rice and sewed the doll close, all the same, and waited for the show to end.
   The crowd was slow to disperse as parents and children tried finding each other while the entertainers scoured the group looking for coin. She thought she saw some pickpocketing happening, which caused her to smirk. She rested her hand on her thinning coin pouch; she was smart to hang back. She had little worth stealing, but she couldn’t risk losing what she had left now that she had the little girl to take care of. She would need a job when she went back to the tavern though. Rhiannon danced her way around people until she was hugging onto Chantal’s leg. She was smiling ever so brightly. “Mummy!” she greeted with glee. “Mummy! Did you see the Gwey Wardens? Did you see?!”
   “I sure did,” Chantal replied, amused. She didn’t have the heart to tell the child how she really felt about the Order, what Fereldans generally thought, so she smiled. “They’re really great heroes, aren’t they?”
   Rhiannon nodded excitedly while Chantal took her by the hand and led her away. “I wanna be a Gwey Warden when I grow up!” she declared.
   This earned a chuckle from Chantal, not to mention a ping of regret. But, what could she do? Her ears perked when she heard another, throatier chuckle nearby. As curious people do, she glanced around for the source, ready to snap defensively at any comment made. She was met with an aged, bearded man with dark skin. He held her gaze, unafraid, his dark eyes twinkling with a strange mixture of pride and melancholy, but he smiled politely at the two of them and said nothing. Strange man, that one, just standing around watching people, in his strange armour and with those daggers strapped to his back. She caught a glimpse of the shining blades. That wasn’t normal metal, was it? She could attempt stealing one later to find out. Ah, no, there were more important things to attend to. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the little girl. “Well, if you work hard and become a strong fighter, I’m sure you will be the best Grey Warden the Order has ever seen.”
   “I have to learn how to fight?” Rhiannon pouted, disappointed.
   Maybe that would deter her. Chantal nodded. “Well, yeah. That’s what they do. Grey Wardens fight.” And sometimes try to usurp a country.
   “Does Mummy fight?”
   “Only when I need to, cub,” she answered simply. She needed to change the topic. If she turned the four year old into a wannabe fighter, her stepmother would have her head. She stopped and kneeled in front of the child suddenly. “Hey, why don’t we go back to the inn? We can get some food and take it to a meadow outside the city.”
   “A picnic?”
   “Yes, a picnic. We’ll get some bread and meat, some cheese. What do you say?” Rhiannon nodded, and Chantal smiled in her success. The little girl pulled her along, and she masked a flinch as her recently injured arm throbbed in pain. She mentally damned that blasted bear, thankful that it hadn’t done more damage. Maybe if she had better bandages and salves, it wouldn’t still be hurting. Alas, the brandy had to do. It would be fine, nothing to show weakness over and alarm the poor child.

The weather was stunning, especially for this early in the spring. While the wind was still cool, it was not bone chilling and did not carry any bitter frost. The meadow was turning greener, and the wild flowers were beginning to bloom. Yellow, white, purple and pink spotted the grass. Little bumble bees busily buzzed across the field. Chantal sat upon a little slope, her cloak being used as a blanket. Rhiannon sat beside her. Between bites of bread and cheese and dried meat, she twisted together the long stems of flowers she’d picked. She crafted a crown. With a gleaming smile, she passed the ringlet of flowers over to Chantal and waited patiently for it to be placed upon her head. Chantal did as expected, and wore it.
   Pleased, Rhiannon went back to eating and watching the fields. She leaned against Chantal, and yawned. “Are you getting tired, cub?”
   “No...” she said quietly, rubbing at her eyes. “Why does Mummy call me that?”
   “Call you what?”
   “Cub. I’m not a baby wolf or bear.” Rhiannon seemed genuinely confused by the pet name.
   Without even thinking, Chantal responded with “Well, your daddy is a wolf.” Corok liked wolves, enjoyed telling the many werewolf stories the Chasind had. She remembered how he related to them, claimed the wolf was his spirit animal.
   The little girl was suddenly sitting straight up again, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “Really?!” She got up and started looking behind her. She spun around and around, searching for something. Then she looked back to Chantal with disappointment and confusion all over her little face. “Why don’t I have a tail?”
   As serious as she was, Chantal couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, my sweet little cub. You don’t have a tail because you’re human.”
   “But, you said...”
   “I know, cub. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”
   Rhiannon slumped back down on her bottom. “Okay...”
   She was so disappointed. Did she really want to be a wolf that badly? Dear Maker, what had Chantal done? The woman sighed. “I can tell you about him,” she offered in compromise. “Your daddy.” The little girl perked up at that. She crawled into Chantal’s lap and readily waited for the stories.

They spent a couple hours in the field, but only because Rhiannon had fallen asleep and Chantal didn’t have the heart to risk waking her up with sudden movements. When the girl woke up on her own, they packed up and headed back into the city. The sun was starting to dip into the horizon, the sky turning bright pink and orange in the sun’s descent. Rhiannon rubbed her eyes as the two of them wandered through the crowded marketplace, her little hand held tightly in Chantal’s. Chantal couldn’t count the number of times she had to stop and wait for a peddler and their cart to pass by.
   The inn was not too far away. Another five or ten minutes and she could put sleepy little Rhiannon to bed properly. She had to admit, she was surprised at how easily she fell into the role of mother. Chantal never thought she would be suited for it. She reached into her cloak. The ugly little rice doll filled her hand. Maybe she should throw it away. Rhiannon likely had enough dolls made by Ilena. She didn’t need this one, not when she had prettier ones at home. “Is that for me, Mummy?”
   Chantal looked down at the little girl. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped walking and, when Rhiannon noticed, she looked to her mother for answers. She was looking between Chantal and the doll curiously, a strange look of hope aflame in her pale blue eyes. Chantal knelt and showed the girl the doll. “It’s... just something I made. You don’t want this silly looking thing, do you?”
   To her surprise, the girl took it and smiled brightly. She nodded and hugged the little thing. Chantal must have looked so very confused, for Rhiannon said “I want it because it’s the first thing Mummy gave me.”
   She was stunned. So many thoughts whirled around in her head, but not a single one could make the trip to her mouth. Rhiannon was such a darling little girl. So sweet, so innocent, so loving. So... good. As much as Rhiannon warmed her heart, it sunk to the pit of her stomach. Her father got his second chance, to raise a better daughter than Chantal could ever be. Rhiannon would do him proud. Rhiannon wouldn’t cause him trouble. It would be difficult to let her go when this week was over, but Rhiannon would be better off back in Denerim with people who could raise her properly. “Mummy loves you, cub,” she said softly. “Always remember that.”
   She pulled Rhiannon into a hug and the little girl hugged her back. “I love you too, Mummy.” Suddenly, the little girl started to squirm. Chantal frowned in confusion as she pulled away, and she saw the look of pure excitement. The child ran around her. “Gwandpa!” she cried gleefully, and Chantal froze. Rhiannon ran into the arms of a large man that was standing beside Ilena. He easily lifted the four year old into the air, a smile on his greying face and his green eyes twinkled with a joy Chantal thought was gone. His almost white beard brushed against Rhiannon’s soft skin as he kissed her cheek. Tears blurred Chantal’s vision and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. That was Ilena’s plan. To bring him here partway through the week while Chantal grew closer to Rhiannon. To force Chantal to stand before her father for the first time since the nineteenth year of the Dragon Age. “Gwandpa, lookie! Lookie what Mummy made for me!”
   She saw him inspect the doll and he looked up, briefly made eye contact with her. She wanted to approach him, to hug him, to tell him that she was sorry, but her legs moved in a different direction. She disappeared from sight and hid in a nearby alleyway. She couldn’t hear what comment he made on her shoddy sewing job. She couldn’t hear anything that llena may have said in response. But she did hear “Mummy? Where did Mummy go?”
   Her Wintersend vacation was over early. Chantal left Calenhad’s Brook within the hour. She couldn’t face him. Not now. She looked over her shoulder as she reached the city’s gates, ashamed that all she could do was run away. But they didn’t need her in their life. Rhiannon didn’t need her. She would not burden them, and she could not expect them to forgive her. She could have tried. Wintersend was about new beginnings, but Chantal was far from ready.

Description
    A soldier plowed through a number of darkspawn, pushing through as many as possible with their wooden shield. Another soldier tried to cut through the endless horde and dwindle numbers. Archers shot arrows into the array, mages cast firestorms to make the tainted creatures falter. Metal clinked together and blood was spilled. But it was not enough. It was never enough. The darkspawn kept attacking, eventually to break and push through the front line. The army held their own, but it was quickly turning into a slaughter. The archdemon appeared and let out a mighty roar that caused the soldiers to tremble in their boots. Then, like a gift from the Maker, Grey Wardens came from the skies riding on the backs of gryphons and quickly turned the tide of battle.
   Children squealed in delight.
   Shaking her head, Chantal scoffed. Darkspawn didn’t really look like that, did they? The archdemon didn’t look all that menacing, and Grey Wardens weren’t powerful, they were traitorous. But, what she could she expect? It was a puppet show performed by some foreign traveling entertainers. It was for children - they performed shows about varies events in Thedasian history for the ‘education of the children’. It was the third one this week, and Rhiannon insisted on seeing this one, too. No matter. Rhiannon being busy and entertained by the puppeteers gave Chantal time to work on her latest project.
   She winced, and pulled a needle point out of her finger. “Not again...” she muttered bitterly before sticking her bleeding digit in her mouth. While waiting for the bleeding to stop, Chantal decided to take a look at the progress of this project. It was a cloth doll that would be stuffed with rice. The slightly lopsided face was stitched on haphazardly, but she could say that about the rest of her sewing job. The doll didn’t look horrific, but... the darkspawn puppets looked prettier. The head was too big for the body. An arm and a leg were longer than the other, but both arms were still too long and both legs were still too short. Well, it was almost done now. She could try making another one later if it really bothered her too much. She sighed though; weren’t mothers supposed to be able to do this kind of thing? She filled it with the rice and sewed the doll close, all the same, and waited for the show to end.
   The crowd was slow to disperse as parents and children tried finding each other while the entertainers scoured the group looking for coin. She thought she saw some pickpocketing happening, which caused her to smirk. She rested her hand on her thinning coin pouch; she was smart to hang back. She had little worth stealing, but she couldn’t risk losing what she had left now that she had the little girl to take care of. She would need a job when she went back to the tavern though. Rhiannon danced her way around people until she was hugging onto Chantal’s leg. She was smiling ever so brightly. “Mummy!” she greeted with glee. “Mummy! Did you see the Gwey Wardens? Did you see?!”
   “I sure did,” Chantal replied, amused. She didn’t have the heart to tell the child how she really felt about the Order, what Fereldans generally thought, so she smiled. “They’re really great heroes, aren’t they?”
   Rhiannon nodded excitedly while Chantal took her by the hand and led her away. “I wanna be a Gwey Warden when I grow up!” she declared.
   This earned a chuckle from Chantal, not to mention a ping of regret. But, what could she do? Her ears perked when she heard another, throatier chuckle nearby. As curious people do, she glanced around for the source, ready to snap defensively at any comment made. She was met with an aged, bearded man with dark skin. He held her gaze, unafraid, his dark eyes twinkling with a strange mixture of pride and melancholy, but he smiled politely at the two of them and said nothing. Strange man, that one, just standing around watching people, in his strange armour and with those daggers strapped to his back. She caught a glimpse of the shining blades. That wasn’t normal metal, was it? She could attempt stealing one later to find out. Ah, no, there were more important things to attend to. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the little girl. “Well, if you work hard and become a strong fighter, I’m sure you will be the best Grey Warden the Order has ever seen.”
   “I have to learn how to fight?” Rhiannon pouted, disappointed.
   Maybe that would deter her. Chantal nodded. “Well, yeah. That’s what they do. Grey Wardens fight.” And sometimes try to usurp a country.
   “Does Mummy fight?”
   “Only when I need to, cub,” she answered simply. She needed to change the topic. If she turned the four year old into a wannabe fighter, her stepmother would have her head. She stopped and kneeled in front of the child suddenly. “Hey, why don’t we go back to the inn? We can get some food and take it to a meadow outside the city.”
   “A picnic?”
   “Yes, a picnic. We’ll get some bread and meat, some cheese. What do you say?” Rhiannon nodded, and Chantal smiled in her success. The little girl pulled her along, and she masked a flinch as her recently injured arm throbbed in pain. She mentally damned that blasted bear, thankful that it hadn’t done more damage. Maybe if she had better bandages and salves, it wouldn’t still be hurting. Alas, the brandy had to do. It would be fine, nothing to show weakness over and alarm the poor child.

The weather was stunning, especially for this early in the spring. While the wind was still cool, it was not bone chilling and did not carry any bitter frost. The meadow was turning greener, and the wild flowers were beginning to bloom. Yellow, white, purple and pink spotted the grass. Little bumble bees busily buzzed across the field. Chantal sat upon a little slope, her cloak being used as a blanket. Rhiannon sat beside her. Between bites of bread and cheese and dried meat, she twisted together the long stems of flowers she’d picked. She crafted a crown. With a gleaming smile, she passed the ringlet of flowers over to Chantal and waited patiently for it to be placed upon her head. Chantal did as expected, and wore it.
   Pleased, Rhiannon went back to eating and watching the fields. She leaned against Chantal, and yawned. “Are you getting tired, cub?”
   “No...” she said quietly, rubbing at her eyes. “Why does Mummy call me that?”
   “Call you what?”
   “Cub. I’m not a baby wolf or bear.” Rhiannon seemed genuinely confused by the pet name.
   Without even thinking, Chantal responded with “Well, your daddy is a wolf.” Corok liked wolves, enjoyed telling the many werewolf stories the Chasind had. She remembered how he related to them, claimed the wolf was his spirit animal.
   The little girl was suddenly sitting straight up again, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. “Really?!” She got up and started looking behind her. She spun around and around, searching for something. Then she looked back to Chantal with disappointment and confusion all over her little face. “Why don’t I have a tail?”
   As serious as she was, Chantal couldn’t help laughing. “Oh, my sweet little cub. You don’t have a tail because you’re human.”
   “But, you said...”
   “I know, cub. I’ll tell you what, I’ll tell you more about it when you’re older, okay?”
   Rhiannon slumped back down on her bottom. “Okay...”
   She was so disappointed. Did she really want to be a wolf that badly? Dear Maker, what had Chantal done? The woman sighed. “I can tell you about him,” she offered in compromise. “Your daddy.” The little girl perked up at that. She crawled into Chantal’s lap and readily waited for the stories.

They spent a couple hours in the field, but only because Rhiannon had fallen asleep and Chantal didn’t have the heart to risk waking her up with sudden movements. When the girl woke up on her own, they packed up and headed back into the city. The sun was starting to dip into the horizon, the sky turning bright pink and orange in the sun’s descent. Rhiannon rubbed her eyes as the two of them wandered through the crowded marketplace, her little hand held tightly in Chantal’s. Chantal couldn’t count the number of times she had to stop and wait for a peddler and their cart to pass by.
   The inn was not too far away. Another five or ten minutes and she could put sleepy little Rhiannon to bed properly. She had to admit, she was surprised at how easily she fell into the role of mother. Chantal never thought she would be suited for it. She reached into her cloak. The ugly little rice doll filled her hand. Maybe she should throw it away. Rhiannon likely had enough dolls made by Ilena. She didn’t need this one, not when she had prettier ones at home. “Is that for me, Mummy?”
   Chantal looked down at the little girl. Somewhere along the way, they had stopped walking and, when Rhiannon noticed, she looked to her mother for answers. She was looking between Chantal and the doll curiously, a strange look of hope aflame in her pale blue eyes. Chantal knelt and showed the girl the doll. “It’s... just something I made. You don’t want this silly looking thing, do you?”
   To her surprise, the girl took it and smiled brightly. She nodded and hugged the little thing. Chantal must have looked so very confused, for Rhiannon said “I want it because it’s the first thing Mummy gave me.”
   She was stunned. So many thoughts whirled around in her head, but not a single one could make the trip to her mouth. Rhiannon was such a darling little girl. So sweet, so innocent, so loving. So... good. As much as Rhiannon warmed her heart, it sunk to the pit of her stomach. Her father got his second chance, to raise a better daughter than Chantal could ever be. Rhiannon would do him proud. Rhiannon wouldn’t cause him trouble. It would be difficult to let her go when this week was over, but Rhiannon would be better off back in Denerim with people who could raise her properly. “Mummy loves you, cub,” she said softly. “Always remember that.”
   She pulled Rhiannon into a hug and the little girl hugged her back. “I love you too, Mummy.” Suddenly, the little girl started to squirm. Chantal frowned in confusion as she pulled away, and she saw the look of pure excitement. The child ran around her. “Gwandpa!” she cried gleefully, and Chantal froze. Rhiannon ran into the arms of a large man that was standing beside Ilena. He easily lifted the four year old into the air, a smile on his greying face and his green eyes twinkled with a joy Chantal thought was gone. His almost white beard brushed against Rhiannon’s soft skin as he kissed her cheek. Tears blurred Chantal’s vision and her heart pounded painfully in her chest. That was Ilena’s plan. To bring him here partway through the week while Chantal grew closer to Rhiannon. To force Chantal to stand before her father for the first time since the nineteenth year of the Dragon Age. “Gwandpa, lookie! Lookie what Mummy made for me!”
   She saw him inspect the doll and he looked up, briefly made eye contact with her. She wanted to approach him, to hug him, to tell him that she was sorry, but her legs moved in a different direction. She disappeared from sight and hid in a nearby alleyway. She couldn’t hear what comment he made on her shoddy sewing job. She couldn’t hear anything that llena may have said in response. But she did hear “Mummy? Where did Mummy go?”
   Her Wintersend vacation was over early. Chantal left Calenhad’s Brook within the hour. She couldn’t face him. Not now. She looked over her shoulder as she reached the city’s gates, ashamed that all she could do was run away. But they didn’t need her in their life. Rhiannon didn’t need her. She would not burden them, and she could not expect them to forgive her. She could have tried. Wintersend was about new beginnings, but Chantal was far from ready.