Status: HIATUS. Rating subject to change. {Currently R could turn NC-17}

Hidden Agenda

Highever

{Age 9}
You crossed into Rye’s bedroom, a luxurious space modestly decorated. There was a silver shield on one wall of a white griffon outlined in blue. Above it was a sword made of red steel, it’s handle engrossed with golden notches. There was a compartment for his clothing and a chest at the foot of his bed. The rest of the room was devoted to bookshelves. “Master Rye? It’s time to get…” you paused as your eyes fell on Rye’s twisted face. He had broken out in a cold sweat, the moisture gleaming on his cheekbones as his body slowly thrashed from side-to-side. You felt a prang of panic – was he ill or simply having a nightmare? “Master Rye?” you repeated a hesitant hand reaching out to him. Your fingers barely met his shoulder when Rye’s hand locked around your wrist, his eyes springing open. You staggered slightly in surprise. “I-It’s just me. Sire.” You told him, staring into his empty gaze. Panting silently, Rye slowly released you.
“Time to get up?” he asked hollowly.
“Yes.” You answered as he pushed himself up on his elbows. “Are you feeling alright?” you added as he swung his feet onto the floor. Rye nodded though he didn’t make eye contact. “Do you need….?”
“Leave me ~~~~~~~~~~…” Rye interrupted still not looking at you.
“Sire?”
“Run along..”

“Father still in the woods?”
“Yes. You awoke Master Rye did you?”
“Yes mother.”
“He never sleeps in like that. I hope he isn’t getting ill.” Your mom fretted swiping at a cobweb.
“He did seem….not himself…” you murmured.
Your mom stopped dusting to face you. “What do you mean?” she asked. A loud rapping on the door prevented you from replying. You exchanged looks with your mother. She merely nodded at you and continued to dust.
Suppressing a sigh, you walked down the few steps, grasped the iron handle of the door and swung it open. Standing before you was a hooded individual, not tall enough to be a human but not short enough to be an elf. You were unsure if it was a man or a woman, its garb was a gray-ish green. A sharp intake of breath signaled it was about to speak. “Be needing to speak to the Grey Warden.” The voice was deep and scratchy – definitely a male. But something about the voice put you on edge. “It is important.” His words slowly rumbled from his throat as if it hurt him to speak.
Your mother appeared at your side. “Come in,” she greeted, tugging you aside. As the stranger entered, you noticed he was slightly hunched. “Master Rye has just sat down to breakfast.”
“Will wait.” The stranger replied, gloved hands hugging each other.
“Yes but…who are you? If I might ask…” your mother pressed.
His rigid breathing sent shivers up your spine as he seemed to consider his answer. “…The Messenger.” He answered.
“The messenger of what?” you blurted causing your mother’s nails to dig into your arm.
“The Architect.”
“Who?”
“Just, a moment…” your mother interrupted shooting you a glare as she retreated farther into the manor.
You waited until your mother was out of sight before asking: “..Why do you hide your face?”
“Shouldn’t be here.” The Messenger answered.
“Then why are you?”
“Need to be.”
“Why?” you pressed.
“….Ask too many ques-tions.” The Messenger replied.
Despite your cheeks flaring you decided to ask one more: “Why do you speak strangely?”
“Just learnt how.” The Messenger said. Your eyes narrowed.
“~~~~~~~~~!” Rye called earning your attention. Your eyes widened as you saw he was wielding his red sword. “Get away from it.” He ordered, his face made of stone, gaze on the Messenger.
“Be coming in peace. Warden.” The Messenger told him.
Rye barked in laughter as he came to a stop. “Times must have changed indeed if your kind can now speak. But only lies drip from your deformed mouths!” The tip of his sword swept back the Messenger’s hood revealing a mesh of discolored skin, beady bloodshot eyes, slits for nostrils and gnarled lips. You gasped; your mother shrieked. The Messenger made a scowling noise, cowering slightly as Rye pointed the sword at his throat. “Speak since you are able. Who is the Architect? Another darkspawn?” Rye continued.
“Darkspawn?!” your mother repeated. “He is a darkspawn?!”
“Quiet yourself Jaslynn.” Rye hissed.
“The Architect is us, but he is not..” The Messenger said. “He has always spoke, but we have never had his powe-r.”
“What power?”
“..Impossi-ble to esplain.”
“Why did he send you?” Rye pressed.
“To warn of..Tamlen.” The Messenger replied. “He comes for you, for all Grey Wardens..”
“Who is he?!”
“The Architect’s mis-take…”
“Tell me more or I’ll slay you right here fiend!” Rye demanded putting pressure on his sword.
“The Architect frees us through Grey Warden blood. Tamlen was freed. Tamlen wants all Grey Wardens dead so no more can be freed.” The Messenger said.
“What are you talking about?!” Rye snapped.
“You saw Tamlen’s destruction Mas-ta Rye.” You noticed Rye’s throat tighten, though his gaze remained as steely as ever. “He will be here soon…Must flee…” The Messenger gestured in your direction.
Rye studied him for a long time before slowly lowering his sword. “No I will not flee. But I will show you mercy if you stay and fight with me.” He responded.
The Messenger seemed to debate this but hesitantly nodded. “Be doing as the Grey Warden wishes.” He agreed.
“Then it’s settled…” Rye murmured.
“Master…?” your mother said finding her voice.
“Jaslynn, you remember the way to my brother’s?” Rye asked facing her.
“…Yes m’lord but…”
“Gather the servants and head there immediately.”
“Master Rye..” she blurted. Suddenly Rye’s head snapped towards the door.
“They arrive.” The Messenger said.
Rye’s eyes were wild as they danced from you to your mother. “Go! NOW!” he ordered rushing outside with the Messenger at his heels.

“Come-on, come-on, Master Rye’s orders, we must go!” your mother shouted down the corridor banging on random doors as she ran.
“Where are we going?” you called. Noticing you had fallen behind, your mom paused long enough to grab your hand.
“Bryce Cousland’s - about a four day journey across the meadows. Now come, we must warn the kitchen workers!” your mom replied. As the two of you burst through the kitchen door, terror froze you in place. The kitchen elves littered the floor and above their mauled corpses were creatures with brown leather-like skin. They were thin with large humped backs and long clawed arms. When they turned you saw they had bald heads with jagged ears. “Maker preserve us…” your mother whispered. One opened its pouted mouth and let out a shriek that rattled you to the core. All at once they lunged towards you two. Pushing you backwards, your mom slammed the door shut. There was a series of pounds, followed by nails shredding against the wood. “~~~~~~~ run…” she whispered.
“I-I-I’m not leaving you!” you replied. “There must be something….!” You trailed off as you turned around, coming face-to-face with another of those creatures.
Before you could think to duck, it raised one of its claws and tore into your cheek with enough force to knock you down. You saw it hover over you then your mother’s shadow as she punched it. The kitchen door burst open and the creatures rained out. Your mother grabbed your arm, dragging you away until you scrambled to your feet. As an exit came into view, you felt the creatures catching up. You weren’t gonna reach it in time.
“~~~~~~~~, you know I love you…” your mother breathed.
“I love you too..” you murmured. Suddenly your mother swung you in front of her, pushing you through the sidedoor. Knees landing on the hard ground, you whipped your head around to glimpse your mother closing the door with her still inside. “Mother!” you cried out uselessly. Her scream was barely audible among the shrieks of those creatures.
Tears streaked your cheeks as you stood, staring at the door. When your gaze swung around to your surroundings, you wished it hadn’t. Across the landscape were the slain bodies of the worker elves. Most had died before they even came close to the meadows. It wasn’t long before you saw why. Just as you took two miserable steps forward, a man in golden armor lumbered into view. The helmet he wore had two horns and slits for his bulging eyes. In his hand was a gilded axe stained with blood. Fear clouded the sadness already choking you. The armored man started towards you. You knew you should run but your feet refused to move. Arms locked around your waist, lifting you off the ground as your savior ran, carrying you. For a moment, you dared to think it was your father who had somehow missed the creatures raid but was intent on sweeping the manor for survivors….but the guttural breathing revealed your savior to be the Messenger.
“Let-go. Where’s Master Rye?” you demanded, feet dangling above the moving ground.
“Gone.” The Messenger replied.
“Gone? You mean de-AH?” you cried as the Messenger stumbled. Twisting to look at him, you saw an arrow sticking out of his back and a short deformed archer in the distance. You also saw, much to your terror, the man with the axe was running after you. “F-Faster!!” you stammered. The words barely left your mouth when another arrow left the archer’s bow. You didn’t see where exactly it hit the Messenger but his body shuddered as it connected.
“Cant. Be letting you go…” The Messenger slowed to a stop as he released you.
“Wha-?”
“Run. Inno-cent!”
You didn’t need to be told twice but as you ran, you saw the Messenger attack and how the axe tore him in half.

You ran as fast as you could.

Through the meadow….

….into the forest.

You hopped over a stream….

….and pushed your way through a thicket of bushes.

You ran and ran…..

….then your body gave out.

Something poked your side. Something thin and slightly sharp. You heard a boy’s bold voice, far away at first then closer. “Deliah! Deliah where have you gone?” he asked.
“Here brother. I’ve found a dead elf! Only I don’t think she’s dead yet…” Deliah answered.
Knowing the elf had to be you, you forced your eyes to open. Through your bleary vision you saw a brown dress kneeling beside you and a pair of scuffed boots approaching. Lifting your head you saw a girl with short black hair and a boy with longer black hair. Their faces were practically identical. The boy grabbed the girl’s arm worriedly, knocking the stick out of her grasp. “Get back Deliah, it could be diseased..” he warned.
“Hush now Nathaniel,” Deliah replied wiggling free. “You’re beginning to sound just like Father. It’s not an it, it’s a she. What is your name elf?”
“…..~~~~~~~~~” you murmured, picking yourself up.
“Where’s your master?” Nathaniel asked.
“Or oh you one of those Dalish elves?” Deliah’s asked excitedly.
“If she is than this was a trap! Watch yourself Deliah…” Nathaniel said, teal eyes scanning the treetops, one hand grasping something on his belt.
“I’m not a Dalish. My master was killed…by monsters.” You answered.
“Monsters?” Nathaniel repeated.
“How awful.” Deliah fretted. Turning towards her brother, she added: “Nathaniel we have to do something!”
“Well…I suppose she could come with us. Like Mother says, you can never have too many elves unless there’s an elven rebellion.” Nathaniel responded.
Your eyes narrowed even as Deliah clapped.