Author's Note: This one-shot is dedicated to Olivegbg and Gaspode. Through their story The Narrow Path (found on Olivegbg's page or under my favorite stories...go read it!) they have given me a new love and appreciation for Duncan. No one writes him like they do, and I love them for it, so thank you guys.

They ran through the tunnel, Elissa leading the way as she knew it best out of the two of them. His hand remained planted firmly on the base of her spine, convincing her to keep going forward and to not look back. Seconds felt like hours as they ran, the light of Duncan's torch barely illuminating the gray stone on either side of them. The pounding of her heart matched the echo their footsteps were making, the combination almost enough to block out the screams coming from behind them.

Almost.

It was still dark when they reached the exit but he wouldn't let her rest. "Keep running," he insisted, applying a gentle amount of pressure to her back. She did as she was told because it was familiar; following someone else's instructions. She knew if she had to think for herself right now, she'd be running in the opposite direction, back toward her mother and her dying father. In his last words he begged for her to live, make her mark on the world, and that promise to him was all that kept her feet moving.

Up and over the familiar hills of Highever where her and Fergus used to play as children, Elissa led them down to the Waking Sea that ran along the Coastlands. In the back of her mind she knew it would be best to avoid the North Road which led to Amaranthine, home of Rendon Howe. Running into him or his men would do them no good, considering they were the ones who had just murdered her family and buried her home in flames.

"We'll move west for about another hour," Duncan informed her as they slowed their pace. "Then we can rest for the night."

She'd rather have kept running. The adrenaline and concentration it took to run in the dark kept her mind off what they had been running from. Life as she knew it destroyed. Everyone she loved gone. It was difficult to not see the blaze in the distance; from where they were it almost looked like the sun was rising with the soft yellow and orange colors stretching beyond the mountaintop. Perhaps Duncan noticed Elissa was focusing on that direction as he was suddenly beside her, his larger and taller frame now blocking her peripheral vision.

When Duncan was satisfied they had put enough distance between them and the castle, he suggested she wash up while he searched for food and twigs for a fire. Elissa slid out of her boots, the ones she'd hastily put on and hadn't even tied properly. Looking down she noticed the blood on her knees. Her fathers blood, from when she knelt beside him for the last time.

She removed those as well and walked towards the water, allowing it to come up over her feet and ankles before she stopped. Kneeling down, Elissa began scrubbing her leggings in the water, watching the clear liquid turn a dark crimson as she scrunched and stretched the fabric. No amount of strength was removing the rust colored stain, and her sight began to blur from tears.

A strong arm gripped her shoulder and she hadn't even noticed, continuing her furious ministrations. "Elissa," the low baritone voice called her name. It wasn't her fathers voice, nor her brothers or even Gilmores. Too deep to be her little nephew Oren, or sweet dear Aldous. And it was much older than Dairren, whose scent still lingered on her skin from their moment of bliss only hours ago. No, it was no man she had grown up knowing, and no man she had left behind to die.

"Elissa," the voice called again. "You must stop this."

But she didn't stop. Instead she started crying. Short breaths and tears led to near hysteria, sobbing uncontrollably. Her hands had long since wrinkled from being in the cold water and yet they remained as she knelt, her bare knees now covered with mud and scrapes of their own from the stones she had pressed into. She couldn't breath, she was drowning in her own sorrow, only one word able to escape her dry chapped lips. "Why?"

"I assured your father I would get you to safety," Duncan stated. "You could fall quite ill under these conditions, should you remain unclothed in this cold water."

"I don't care," Elissa replied back, anger warming her frigid skin. "Have you lost no one to understand what this feels like?"

Duncan continued to look her in the eye. He ignored her question, having seen more death than he ever thought imaginable. "Your parents gave their lives so that you may live. Do not dishonor their sacrifice."

She opened her mouth to respond, but could form no words. He was right; her rational mind took over and she could see clearly he spoke the truth. "I'm sorry Duncan," Elissa whispered, still choking on sobs of despair.

He retrieved her sword from the mud and handed it to her. "There is no need to be sorry for feeling the grief of those who have passed," Duncan told her firmly. "But do so when the time is right so others do not have to grieve for you."

Elissa thought his words odd, considering there would be no one left to care if she had lived or died. What did any of it matter? Howe had wished the entire Cousland line erased, and no doubt had already reached her brother and disposed of him and his men. Her family was gone. Her home no longer hers. There was no purpose she could see for a future, any future.

Duncan tapped the sword she held with his own. "Carry your fathers blade with pride," he told her. "Know that you were chosen because you are strong, skilled, and needed to assist the Grey Wardens during this time. And when the opportunity presents itself, use that sword to strike through the hearts of those that have taken from you."

She lifted the sword slowly, studying the markings on the hilt. How fitting the small crevices of the blade would one day be covered in Howe's blood. Duncan was right, she did have a purpose. She would make her mark on the world, fight beside him and the others against the darkspawn, and one day she would fulfill her father's dying wish for vengeance.

With a small smile she nodded to Duncan, stepping out of the water and up on to the riverbank. Yes, one day she will plunge her father's sword through Rendon Howe's heart. And only then she will grieve.