Chapter 2, rough draft

Ch 2

Prison cells here needed serious updates. She'd decided that, glaring at the dripping ceiling, over several days of being stuck in a rancid-smelling, damp, poorly-lit prison cell with what barely passed for a cot in there. She supposed she was lucky, considering what she could have been stuck with, but really. So uncivilized.

She'd had strange dreams of wolves and an even fainter memory of blue eyes. She had initially thought they were Radal's, that she was dreaming of him in her injured state, but the moment she'd thought that, they'd widened and withdrew, and she'd realized that that wasn't so. She had been lucid dreaming for most of her long life, and had some considerable talent with controlling them, so at that point she'd made sure not to allow strangers in her thoughts. That should have protected her mind from others, but in this case, they still appeared, though as if from a greater distance.

She was concerned about that, when she woke, and had been sure to make eye contact with every guard who brought her the half-decent food she'd been given. She didn't like intruders in her dreams.

What she DID like was that when she woke, she was perfectly healed. Even her wings, which surprised and concerned her...had she shown them while unconscious? They hadn't been out when she woke, so she doubted it, but still. Whoever healed her deserved her thanks. Even her left hand wasn't in as much pain...though it WAS now the home of an odd looking green, convolescing mark, similar to the swirl that had pulled her and her baby there.

She hadn't seen anyone for the four days she'd been in there, with the exception of some random person who informed her on behalf of a "Seeker Pentaghast" that her son was well, and would be returned to her, if she was ever permitted out of her cell. She stood and started pacing, agitated, worried that they'd go back on their word. She wanted to speak to this "Seeker Pentaghast" and persuade her to give Russ back.

"Hello?" she called out, hoping the guard would answer her. To her surprise, she felt movement from across the room, and saw the flicker of slightly reflective eyes through the barely-there beam of light from the hole in the ceiling.

"Hello?" the voice was tentative but defiant. "Who are you?"

"My name is Ivorel. Where did you come from? Do you know what's happening?" She moved as close as she could in the woman's direction, grasping the bars and searching eagerly for her.

The woman across the prison snorted. "Ivorel. That's a Dalish name if ever I've heard one. Are you an elf? No, I don't have a clue what's going on. They brought me in here while you were asleep."

Ivorel paused, and risked a bit of magic to provide a light, and turned her head to show her left ear. She saw another elf across the room, with ears much longer than her fairly short, petite ones, short red curly hair, freckled skin pale as a sheet. She was slackjawed, looking at the light in awe. "You're a mage!"

Ivorel blinked in confusion. "I'm a...what? I...sure, I'm a mage. If that's a problem, can we call this an expression of trust and maybe keep it to yourself, unless I choose to show them? I just wanted you to be able to see me...look, I'm missing my son, and I'm getting very concerned they won't let me out." She shoved her free hand shakily through her hair, pacing faster.

The other woman relaxed slightly, looking halfway between annoyed and concerned. "Look, I...sure. But you probably want to tell them. People don't like it when other people hide magic around here. My name is Ioreth...you're not from around here, are you?"

Ivorel opened her mouth to reply, but the clink of a key from the top of the dank stairwell had her light winking out and her head whipping around anxiously to peer through the darkness at the top of the stairs, where the door was being opened.

Two women walked through, followed by a half dozen soldiers. The first woman was tall, for a human, at what Ivorel guessed was about six foot. She was strikingly beautiful. She had smooth olive skin punctuated by a few scars, and short dark hair crowned with a long braid, and what was likely a lovely figure underneath her unforgiving plate armor, based on the form fitted leather and maille on her lower half. She was clearly strong, with a longsword in her hand and shield at her back, and her almond shaped brown eyes were hard while she stared at Ivorel.

For all that she was intimidating, it was the other one who worried her, more average in height for a human, dressed in twilight colored maille and a dusty purple coat with her chin length red hair half over her face, shadowing her narrowed grey eyes. It gave her the look of a hunting cat about to pounce, when coupled with her graceful beauty, and Ivorel found it unsettling that THESE people were the ones to finally come in.

Oh dear.

The terrifying ginger unlocked her cell quietly, and backed away to linger ominously, half in the shadows, and two of the guards gruffly dragged her out and shoved her to her knees. There was a hole in the ceiling, and a faint beam of light made her more visible, here. Her wrists were chained behind her back quite uncomfortably, and the welcome party finished out their delightful silent introduction with six swords drawn, and pointed at her from all sides.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." The tall brunette pointed her own sword at Ivorel's throat.

Ivorel sat straight, edging pointlessly away from the blade, terrified but refusing to show anything but dignity. "With all due respect, is that a serious question that you wish an answer to, or one I'm expected to stay silent in response to? I have a son I'm very concerned about, and I want very badly to see for myself that he is well. I'm sure you think I'm incredibly dangerous, or I wouldn't be in here, but I mean you no harm and I simply want my son. Also I'm afraid I don't know your name. Would you be so kind as to give it to me?"

The brunette snarled, but the ginger stepped forward and put a hand on her arm, her expression equal doses intrigued and suspicious. Ivorel wondered if she had shown too much composure. "This is Lady Cassandra Pentaghast, Seeker of the Chantry. I am Sister Leliana."

Ivorel's eyes widened at the names, and she drew in her breath sharply, looking directly at Cassandra. "Then you're the one who I was told to speak to about my baby? Please, at least bring him to me so I may see him."

"You are not concerned for your life? We do expect answers." Sister Leliana arched a suspicious eyebrow, and crossed her arms.

"I will give you whatever I can of what you wish, if you allow me my son. You clearly do not have children, Sister Leliana, if you think that any mother would be more interested in anything but her child's well-being, should she wake up from blood loss induced unconsciousness to find him absent, and then have to wait four days to hear word. I hate that you are using a child as a bargaining chip, but it is successful. I have no reason not to tell you what I know. I think you may know more than myself, however...I cannot provide what I do not know unless you wish me to lie.

Ivorel's expression was desperate, and she was near tears, gripping onto her chains for support. A few of the guards exchanged looks. Babies made everything sensitive. Ivorel had a growing fear that they would believe nothing from her, whether it was truth or lies, and the thought terrified her. They were not home, what would happen to Russ if she was killed? I got dragged to the most paranoid place...gods, just give me my son.

"I have no reason to lie, Seeker, and every reason not to" she said, her voice wavering but blunt, "I don't know what kind of people you are, or how far you would go, and I would do anything to keep my child safe. My pride and safety mean little in the face of that."

The Seeker lowered her sword slightly, still tense with anger, but her eyes slightly wide with surprise and a little-just a little-sympathy. She exchanged a look with the Sister-who Ivorel was gathering did not change expression much-and nodded. "You may not hold him. But we will bring him to you. And then you will provide us with answers."

Ivorel's face fell, and she slumped slightly, but nodded. It was the best she could get, and she was lucky for even that. Ioreth was wearing an expression of sympathy from the other side of the prison, but Ivorel didn't even notice.

She nearly jumped up, against her better judgement, immediately forced back to her knees, when she saw Russ carried in by a quiet woman in red and white robes. He started crying and reaching for her when he saw her, and she bowed her head and sobbed when he was taken out again. "He was barely here!" she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Explain this." Cassandra ignored her, and grabbed her left hand, the one with the glowing green mark on it. It was incredibly uncomfortable, her arm twisted at a weird angle from behind her, and she felt the rough shackles digging into her wrist. She was surprised it didn't break skin. These assholes...any petty little thing to make me break, hmm? It will take more than that, no matter the tears.

Ivorel struggled to regain her composure, taking shuddering breaths. The best she got was to sit straight in defiance of the tears that would not stop, to her repressed irritation. "I cannot tell you much. I was in my home, tending to my injuries, and my son cried from his room. I thought he was thirsty, as he had just been put to bed, and I went to bring him water. I opened his door to see a huge whirling mass of green glowing...something. I tried to protect it from him, but it touched me, and I was-I assume, based on the pain when I found myself on the ground-dropped here."

The two women wore expressions of shock and disbelief, as did the guards and Ioreth. "That cannot be true," said Cassandra, snorting. Her brow was furrowed in doubt, and she made no attempts to hide her disdain.

"As I said, I have no reason to lie. You have my son." Ivorel sagged, shrugged helplessly, and looked at her defeatedly. "I wish I could give you a story that sounds more reasonable, if this does not, but I have none."

"Where...are you from?" Ivorel turned halfheartedly to see a dubiously curious Leliana walking closer. She looked genuine, though, not mocking, so Ivorel sighed deeply and prepared herself. This never goes well... She closed her eyes.

"My name is Ivorel Menelluin. My son's name is Russ, not that you asked. We are from Loth Ennorath, a country on the planet of Nilanou. Most specifically, we are from the Elvenwood. I am one of my peoples' best healers, and my husband Radal is one of their finest archers. I came here with preexisting injuries that came from stepping on a sigil that exploded under my feet. I was fortunate to walk along the edge, or I would have been killed. Usually my life is somewhat less eventful than this. I usually spend my time healing flesh wounds from our border guards. I have no bloody clue what this damned thing on my hand is, apart from something left over from the bloody green whirl that dragged myself and my son here that seems to be ruining my life rather quickly."

She opened her eyes, and met the stares of the two women without flinching, waiting for judgement. The entire prison was silent, everyone gaping at her. Here it comes...

"Prove it."

She snapped her head to Sister Leliana, eyebrows high in shock, as did Ioreth, and Cassandra, who scoffed in disdain and crossed her arms, shifting onto her hip incredulously. "Surely you cannot be taking her seriously!"

"As she said, she has no reason to lie, Cassandra." Leliana shrugged nonchalantly, sharp eyes never leaving Ivorel, voice casual and yet somehow intimidating because of it. "She meant that much, at least-she would do anything for her son. So she is either mad, or she is not. And if she is not, I wish to see proof of it. We need her, and it would make things easier for everyone if she was sound of mind."

Cassandra pursed her lips and snorted in derision, again, but offered no further argument. Ivorel nodded slightly in understanding and aquiescence. "If this will help you decide whatever you need to to let me free, so be it. But I warn you, I will not allow you to walk through to my home. It's against our laws. I will do whatever I can to prove it, should that not be enough. But," she said dryly, "I would very much appreciate being told where I am now, and what you "need me" for, afterward, if you wouldn't mind. I seem to be stuck here, after all."