[Backstory] Foundling

When the riots began, Robyn found her world shrunk to the terraced house that was their home. She didn't understand, and it was frustrating, especially when she was so used to having free rein to visit friends as she liked, providing she was home on time.
 
Nevertheless, she stuck to her curfew, her father's worried face and insistence that she promise to stay in the house burned in her mind.
 
Still… he didn’t say where in the house.
 
Over the last year, the trapdoor ladder to the attic was easier to access, having got a growth spurt earlier in the spring and also finding the right way to spring up the wall to reach the catch. If her father knew she was sneaking up here, he never let on.
 
The attic didn't have much, a few trunks and boxes, but the main attraction was the sash window that overlooked the street and gave access to the rooftop. From there, her father would teach her how to read maps, understand the direction of the wind, any small changes to the sky - but since the riots started, Robyn used this as a vantage point to see when her dad was coming home.
 
It became a routine. She'd see him at the top of the street, and she'd race down the ladder, throw up the shutter (which took a few attempts) and hurtle down the stairs just as he was opening the doors, and he'd catch her in his arms every time.
 
"You're going to be too big for this soon, Little Bird," he complained one time, her skinny arms holding tight.
 
"'m not little," she protested into the crook of his neck.
 
"Alright, Wings. Whatever you say."
 
The riots went on for weeks, and while Robyn feared the noise coming from further into the 'Rest, she never thought for a moment he wouldn't come home. Heroes always came home.
 
One day, the noise from the riots reached a crescendo and then went abruptly quiet in comparison. That day, Robyn waited longer than she ever had. Even as the sun set, and what Robyn could see of the street became almost impossible, she still waited.
 
Eventually, she heard the door open. Thinking she had missed him somehow, she hurtled down the stairs as normal, but the person in the door was not who she expected.
 
Robyn skidded to a halt in the hallway, looking at the well-armoured dwarf in the living room suspiciously. “Who’re you?” she asked boldly, even as her heart rate picked up in her chest.
 
The dwarf tried to make himself look less intimidating - tricky, when you’re in full armour and naturally as gruff as Shatterstar was. “I’m Osian. A friend of your father’s.”
 
Robyn hesitated. He looked like a Skirmisher, and her father used to be one, and she knew other friends in the Skirmishers too. But there was still an important question. “Where’s my dad?”
 
The dwarf hesitated too. “Look, lass, it’s… He’s not able to be here right now.”
 
He wasn’t answering the question, and Robyn felt the panic rising. “Where is he?!”
 
“Shh, don’t shout.” It was apparent he was not used to children in any capacity. “I can’t explain right now but you need to come with me so you can be safe.”
 
Robyn took a step back. "Go with you where?"
 
"To Sentinel's Tower. You know your Da used to work there when you were very little."
 
"But what about my dad?" She was trying to be brave - trying very desperately not to cry - but her voice wobbled and cracked. "Where is he?"
 
"He's…" The dwarf hesitated and that didn’t help in the slightest. "He's gone away. He didn't want to, but he's had to go and can't come back."
 
"You're lying! My dad always comes back."
 
"Wait, Robyn!"
 
She ran up the stairs in a flash, slamming the door behind her and sitting against it to hold it shut, her knees drawn up to her chest as she muffled her tears in her sleeves. It was some time before there was a gentle knock at the door.
 
“Robyn? Open the door lass, there’s a good girl.”
 
“Get out,” Robyn snapped, kicking the wall angrily. “I want my dad.”
 
“I know lass. I know. I promise, if he could come home, he would.”
 
Promise. Robyn hated that word now. At the same time, she wondered what her dad would say if he saw her like this. Reluctantly, she opened the door.
 
“I don’t want to go.” She still sounded sulky, so she puffed up her chest, trying to be brave. “I’m going to stay until he gets home.”
 
“Lass.” Shatterstar let out an exasperated sigh. “He can’t come home. It’s complicated. I can’t really explain it.”
 
“Is he dead?” Her voice wavered, and her eyes were threatening tears but she jutted her chin out defiantly. She wasn’t going to let a stranger see her cry. “You can say it. I know what it is. I’m not stupid.”
 
“Aye, you’re not at that. I think it’d be easier if that were true but it’s not. He’s been taken away and can’t come back to the city.”
 
“So… he’s on patrol again?” Robyn looked confused. “He said he wouldn’t go outside again ‘til I was older.”
 
Outside, there was suddenly some angry shouting down the street, and the sound of someone screaming. It was like the riots, but only much closer. The two of them looked to the window briefly, Robyn more transfixed than Shatterstar. “Come on, lass,” he said, giving her shoulder a gentle nudge. “Grab your coat and shoes. Let’s get you out of here before it gets more dangerous.”
 
Robyn, still confused but now more scared than ever, finally did as she was told. Between them they packed what clothes they could fit in a bag, found her coat, her shoes, and Robyn insisted on bringing a box and her mother’s lute also.
 
“These are special,” she asserted as much as an eight year old could. “They can’t be left here.”
 
“Alright,” Shatterstar caved, just grateful she seemed to be complying. “Alright. Let’s go.”
 
The walk to Sentinel’s Tower was even stranger without her dad alongside her. Shatterstar kept a pace that she still had to jog a little to catch up, even though she wasn’t much shorter than him. At the Tower, there was an odd sense of solemn quiet, especially compared to Shepherd’s Rest. The Skirmishers at the gate saluted as they passed, with Shatterstar making a beeline for the Storehouse.
 
“You found her then.”
 
Robyn jumped as an older human emerged from behind some dimly lit shelves. Shatterstar seemed unfazed.
 
“She’s an eight year old human in her own home, you make it sound like she’d have been anywhere else.”
 
The old man peered at her in the dim light of the torches outside the Storehouse. “She’s getting to be the spit of her father, that’s for sure. Save for the hair of course, that’s Alanna’s alright.”
 
Robyn bristled at the scrutiny and that she was being talked about not to. “I’m right here,” she snapped.
 
The old man chuckled. “That you are, girl. Right.” He seemed to be more confident at handling children than Shatterstar by far, if only because (as Robyn would later learn) he treated everyone the same. “I ain’t gonna tiptoe around it. Your dad is an old friend of both of us and this is the least we can do since he’s got himself in some trouble. You’ll be staying with me from now, you hear?”
 
His firm confidence was enough to settle any possible protest. Robyn nodded meekly, which seemed enough to satisfy the old man. “Good,” he continued. “I’m Quartermaster Quinn, but you can just call me Quinn. Now this ain’t a holiday, and there’s plenty to do here that I need your help with. We’ll sort all that out in the morning.” He pointed down the row of shelves to a door in the far corner. “Straight through there and on your right, you’ll find a bed and a sleeping roll there for now. Go on, off you go. It’s getting late.”
 
She still had questions, but it was clear from his face that Quinn wouldn’t answer anything more, so she did as she was told. Shatterstar and Quinn continued talking after she reached the door - she tried to listen, but she couldn’t hear them well enough to know what they were saying. Dragging her bag of clothes behind her, Robyn headed to the little room Quinn told her about, and climbed into the sleeping roll. It was warm at least, even if it was less comfortable than her normal bed, but she still struggled to sleep.
 
It was about half an hour before Quinn stuck his head into the room. Robyn closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep, since that’s what she was told to do, but it didn’t work. “Girl, you’re gonna have to get better at pretending if you’re gonna fool me.”
 
Robyn sat up, tucking her knees into her chest and leaning on them with her arms, watching Quinn light one of the lanterns to brighten the room some more. “Osian said that my dad can’t come back. What did he mean?”
 
“Osian is it?” Quinn chuckled, gesturing Robyn to shift up the bed so he could sit on the end of it.
 
“Is that… not his name?”
 
“No no, it is, he just doesn’t use it very often. I doubt he’s heard anything other than “Shatterstar” or “Commander” for a good few years.” Quinn hefted a sigh. “He’s right though. Your dad won’t be able to come back.”
 
It took some time, a lot of questions and repeats, and then (on Robyn’s part) quite a few tears, but Quinn explained the concept of “exile” as best he could to a young girl. Thankfully, Daemon hadn’t shirked when it came to the girl’s education, and she seemed bright enough, but even the smartest of kids wouldn’t know exile when it wasn’t something that came up very often.
 
“Now, off to bed with you, properly this time,” Quinn said after he’d finished and Robyn had run out of questions. “We’ve got lots to do tomorrow to help the squads deploy tomorrow.”
 
Robyn’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean I get to be a Skirmisher?”
 
Quinn laughed. “It don’t work like that, girl! But who knows? Work hard, and when you’re older you just might be.”
 
The prospect of adventure was at least some sort of positive and Robyn clung on to that thought as she settled down, Quinn dousing the torch and shutting the door behind him.