He awoke, like many mornings before, to the rough baritone of mabari barking, and he knew with certainty, as he had every morning for the past decade, that he was still very far from home. He glanced at the neatly printed handmade calendar hanging above the lumpy servant's cot which was his own, and he sighed slowly, rubbing his tired green eyes. The date was Harvestmere 14, 9:29 Dragon.
'Happy Birthday, Noel, you're still in Thedas' he thought with another sigh.
It had been exactly ten years since the eccentric pre-vet student/casual gamer, woke up in the body of Leannen, the four year old human son of a teenaged elven servant in Castle Cousland, Highever. Many times in his previous lifetime, the scholar daydreamt of living in a fantasy world; and one day, he assumed, he simply never woke up. He coped with his being on Thedas the same way he had always coped with adversity; he bottled away his emotions on the matter and simply accepted whatever life threw at him with apathy.
His wish of leaving his old world behind had been granted in the most literal sense, and though he mourned the loss of his loved ones, whose faces, after so many years, he hardly remembered, he simply kept living with only the faintest belief that one day he would wake up and be in his messy dorm room, with his cellist girlfriend, her pet iguana, and his tightly packed academic schedule. The irony of his longing for the real world was not lost on him.
The boy lazily rolled out of bed and turned around to make up the sheets, his body so used to the mundane task that he hardly noticed his arms moving. It was his birthday; in this world and the last. His body was fourteen, but his mind was now twenty-eight. It was dark and cool in the servant's quarters, which were bellow the kitchen and across from the dog kennels. The oil lamp hanging from the ceiling flickered as it struggled to remain alight, casting distorted shadows across the room and over the empty bed that the boy's mother had slept in before her recent marriage to an alienage elf.
With another glance around the quiet room and at the sleeping form of another elven servant, he changed into a plain brown tunic which passed his sniff test, stepped into his ugly, worn boots and slipped out into the dark hall. No other servants were about and aside from the burning of lamps, all was silent. The sun had had yet to rise, and so there was no need for him to begin his chores. Still, rather than go back to his cooling bed, he made his way to the kennels to check on the dogs. It was rare for them to bark so early in the morning; mabari understood how rude it was to needlessly wake people.
"Hey, fellas," he whispered conversationally to the four caged war hounds as he slipped into the room, scanning the floors for signs of giant rats.
The dogs wagged their tails and pawed about excitedly in place, no signs of fear or distress.
He ran his calloused fingers along the kennel bars as he passed through the room, making his way to the very last cage, where his favourite mabari was panting happily. He knelt down and took the great beast's head in his hands, affectionately rubbing behind its ears. The dog was pure white with blue eyes, very rare for its breed, and highly affectionate. It was bonded to Fergus Cousland.
He noticed the other dogs were staring at him expectantly, likely awaiting their breakfast.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," he whispered, not wanting to speak aloud as his voice had been cracking lately, "The kennel master will be coming to take care of you soon, I'm not allowed to feed you."
"You should probably make some people friends. We smell better."
The boy jumped up and backed up against the cage with a nervous smile. None other than Aedan Cousland, the potential future commander of the grey, had entered the room without him noticing. He had an opened bottle of expensive Antivan wine in one hand and a covered wicker picnic basket in the other, and was dressed in his casual, but still very fine, hunting clothes. He had apparently returned from the group hunting trip he and Fergus had left on nearly a week prior.
"G-good morning, My Lord," the ex-gamer said softly with a small smile after deciding against any of the many witty retorts that he always had prepared but should never use when speaking to a nobleman.
"Boy, it isn't morning 'till I've woken up!" The younger Cousland spun and sat down on a wooden chair close to the door. His own mabari plopping down beside him, dried blood in its fur and around its jaws. He took a swig from his bottle and motioned the young servant closer. It seemed he was a little tipsy, likely celebrating a successful hunt.
"Your name is Leannen, isn't it?" He set the basket on the floor between his feet and looked up, squinting at the youth.
"Yes," the boy nodded, still speaking as softly as possible despite being somewhat insulted that the young lord didn't recognize him, given that they'd lived in the same castle for ten years and were often practising side-by-side at the archery range on quiet days.
"Yes." The man repeated, drawing out on the's' as he took another drink and muttered, "Yes, you are."
"What?" the boy furrowed his brow. "Ser, do you need something?" He took a tentative step forward and stopped outside arms length away from the nobleman. He didn't know Aedan to be a violent or cruel person, but he'd never actually been alone with him before then, or seen him drunk for that matter, so he remained wary.
"I found something," Aedan slurred, bending down to pick up the basket and placed it in his lap. He took a final drink from the bottle, emptying it and dropping it to the floor with a loud clunk that made the boy jump.
"Biggest white wolf I've ever seen...killed it with a bolt through the eye."
Noel looked down at the basket, hoping the nobleman wasn't about to drunkenly show him the bloody severed head of his kill.
"Then we found this guy," he opened the basket and pulled out a fluffy, sleep-disoriented white puppy, not yet a four weeks old.
"Ah!" The boy stepped closer with a huge smile, his love of baby animals overshadowing his previous caution. He reached out, momentarily forgetting the social graces that he had spent the past decade learning, and picked the puppy out of the lord's hand, holding it close to his chest and cooing softly. He realized, after a moment, how terribly improper that was and sheepishly looked up at the nobleman.
"Arl Bryland wanted to leave him to die" Aedan leaned forward, tugging at the pup's tiny tail and the boy glared, trying to remember who Bryland was.
"But look at him," Aedan continued, "He's part mabari."
At that the boy looked down and inspected the fluffy white pup more closely. It did indeed have mabari features; the telltale muscular paws and small, straight ears at the top of its head.
"Even if he's not purebred, it's still there. Noble blood doesn't dilute that easily."
Noel looked at the nobleman and he stared back, seeming as though something heavy was on his mind. His bright green eyes shone in the lamplight and he stood up quickly and threw an arm around the boy's shoulder, which stiffened at the contact.
"Well, Leann –Can I call you Leann? I'm quite drunk. Show me to my room?"
Hiding his discomfort at the man's closeness, Noel gave the high-born a friendly smile, wrapped his arm around the teetering teen's waist and adjusted the now sleeping puppy in his other arm before leading the way to the other end of the castle. The bloodstained mabari stayed behind, likely knowing he'd find his meal sooner in the kennels than in his master's bedchambers.
People were beginning to wake up as Noel softly closed Aedan's door behind him. The eighteen-year-old had ruffled his hair affectionately before unceremoniously dropping into his luxurious bed and falling asleep. Noel immediately turned to leave, but after a moment of thought, he put the puppy down and returned to quietly remove the nobleman's muddy boots from his feet and set them neatly by the bed. Again, he was about to leave; but he sighed and went back to fetch a blanket from the linen closet and draped it over the Cousland's sleeping form. Finally convinced he'd done his minimum required duty, the boy scooped up the pup and left.
He made his way to the kitchens, hoping he could craft a puppy formula using ingredients found in Ferelden, or else he'd have to try to wean the little guy early.
Fergus Cousland was leaning against the larder door, eating an apple. The room was otherwise empty.
"Good morning, My Lord," Noel bowed his head slightly, "Would you like me to fix something for your breakfast?"
"No, I'm about to head to bed, thank you." Fergus shook his head and looked up. "Did Aedan give you that?" he motioned towards the pup.
"Ah, well, he fell asleep so I assumed he wanted me to take care of it." He looked down and bounced the rousing puppy with a smile, his heart soaring at the sight of its big blue eyes. "I was going to make a milk substitute for him." Normally he didn't talk so much, especially not to someone of such high station, but the yawning whelp kept him distracted.
"Won't milk be enough?" The elder Cousland approached, looking curiously at the tiny animal.
"Oh, no, milk from an herbivore won't sustain a dog; they're more carnivorous, see, so they need more protein..." he stopped there, noticing the lord's strange look. "Sorry, My Lord, I'll ramble on forever if you give me the chance."
"It's alright," Fergus smiled softly, but his green eyes seemed sad all of a sudden. "You're a smart lad."
Noel's lips twitched and he looked around the room awkwardly, unsure how to take the compliment. "I read a lot, ser."
Fergus nodded. "Yes, your mother must have taught you; she was always reading. Not something you see every day in an elf...How is she?"
"The babe's due any time now, but she keeps insisting she's alright to work." Noel smiled fondly; he rather liked his 'Thedas mother' as he secretly referred her, but of course he had to pretend to be learning when she tried to teach him how to read.
To his surprise, the lord laughed almost fondly.
"Sounds like the old girl! I remember the day you were born; she was tidying my bedchambers when her water broke!"
"Really?"
"Oh yes, and she kept apologizing for the mess, poor young thing!"
The two chuckled for a moment before Fergus suddenly stopped, looking awkwardly around.
"Well," He took a final bite of his apple and threw the core over his shoulder, oblivious to the servant's eye twitch at the action. He waved towards the puppy, "you can keep him."
"Really?" Noel looked up, his eyes bright with shock and happiness. The elder Cousland brother tilted his head and slightly raised his left shoulder, which Noel had learned was a nobleman's shrug.
"No one else would want a wolf-dog. Take good care of him."
"Thank you," the boy whispered, looking down at the pup and smiling happily "And it's even my birthday!"
"Well," looking suddenly uncomfortable, Fergus made to leave. "Happy birthday," he said awkwardly as he left.
Noel stared after him, his fondness for the man growing. He had never completed a run-through of the game with human-noble origins, so he had no idea what would happen to Fergus, save that he would be Teyrn by the time of Awakenings.
'He'll be alright,' he assured himself as he let himself into the larder. 'It's the other Couslands who'll die...if don't do something.'
The time to choose was fast approaching.
A/N:
I feel like I'm breaking an unspoken rule by writing an insert in third person, but I felt like constantly showing an SPD person's thoughts and motivations would be alienating to the reader.