While the city of Redcliffe may be celebrating this night, for reasons Roran didn't really understand, she and the rest of the guard was not. Those off duty may have been in the tavern or with their families but a majority of them were in the barracks, catching up on sleep or doing whatever it was they did on their day off. To Roran, the winter solstice was just another night.
It hadn't always been this way. When she was younger, she'd loved the solstice celebrations. It was the one night she and her brother were allowed to stay up past their bedtimes. She could remember playing games with the other children, some of whom were on the watch with her tonight, and could remember how happy everyone was during this time. There had even been one night when Tristan had let her and Brynn drink from his tankard. It was the first night she'd ever had a taste of ale and, coincidentally, had been the last time as well. Almost as soon as the liquid had entered her mouth she spit it back out again, triggering a round of laughter from those in the tavern.
"It doesn't surprise me that you don't like it, Roran," Tristan had said, taking the tankard from her and offering her a piece of bread. Roran snatched the bread up quickly, tearing into it and trying to forget the bitter taste in her mouth. "It's an acquired taste. I didn't like it till I was in the guard," he admitted, smirking at his step-daughter as he took a drink from the metal mug.
Roran smiled fondly at that memory. It had been nearly eight years since that evening. She had been sixteen; two years away from entering the guard. Two years away from losing her mother. If she had known then what she knows now...
No, that was an unfair thought. If she knew those things she wouldn't have the life she has now. She wouldn't be the person she is today. Would she have the conviction for truth and justice she has now? Would she have the drive to do the best she possibly could despite the odds? Maybe she would and maybe she wouldn't, but she couldn't dwell on that right now. The fact of the matter was that she did have all those things. She couldn't dwell on the past or else she'd lose her future.
Smiling to herself, she looked up into the starry night sky above her post at the old windmill, sending a small prayer of thanks to the Maker and to her mother.