Chapter I
Blood splattered the cold ground, painting the dirt red before a man fell with a cry, a gaping gash across his chest. Then a helpless whimper escaped him as he stared up in horror, the dark shape of a monster reflecting upon his wide eyes. The creature leaned over him with its hellish, jagged blade, and the man let out a gurgling sound as his throat was slowly slit. It laughed hoarsely, grey eyes admiring its work as its victim's blood gushed out and pooled. But its sinister laughter was silenced when a sword suddenly pierced through its chest. It looked down at the shimmering metal, its permanent grin and blank stare unchanged. Then a dagger came over its shoulder and slashed across its neck. The monster's head dropped to the ground with a hollow thud, its body falling sideways to reveal a darkly tanned man with a black beard and ponytail, his gaze as sharp as his blades.
Duncan's blue and silver armor chimed as he calmly knelt to clean his weapon on the monster's torn clothes. He then used the same rag to wipe off red splatters from the regal griffon adorning his breast plate. A symbol that marked him as a Grey Warden.
"Damn…we were too late," Uttered a fair young man with dirty-blond hair who he stood a short distance behind him, wielding a sword in one hand while glaring down at the monster he killed. He was a knight barely in his twenties, clad in a similar garb and with a matching griffon on his chest and shield.
"I'm afraid there will be far more death soon, Alistair," Duncan responded before he rose to his feet to survey the carnage around them. Wagons were spilled over, the contents scattered about along with the blood and gore of both travelers and cattle. His dark brown eyes then turned to look past the nearby cliff to the woods below, where more creatures marched across the land, slowly weaving their way through the brush. Above them, a dark cloud slowly moved with them, red lighting sparking eerily while all trees in its wake quickly withered and died. A dark omen of what was to come.
Alistair sheathed his sword at his hip and walked over to stand beside his mentor, hazel-brown eyes widening at the sight below them. "Maker… there's so many of them," He uttered and then looked to Duncan with unease. "This is it isn't it...? This is really a Blight..."
"Yes... But I see no sign of the archdemon. Not yet." Duncan's jaw set and he turned to walk towards the road ahead. "Come. We have no time to waste."
"Right..." Alistair followed him, a troubled look upon his brow. Duncan sent him a brief glance over his shoulder, then his eyes gazed ruefully to the horizon.
Maker help us all… Duncan thought to himself, knowing that the coming days would forever change the boy's life, as well as that of everyone in Ferelden.
xxxxxxx
Several weeks after they brought the news to the king of Ferelden, stories of their ongoing fight against the darkspawn in the south had reached the people of Highever. But despite the looming danger in the south, Teyrn Bryce Cousland's approaching tourney appeared to be the only thing in the minds of the bustling population. Merchants hurried to finish setting up their shops, some dragging carts through the road in a haste, while rest of the people rushed through the street, all carrying excited smiled as they made their way to the arena.
Alistair walked beside Duncan as they made their way through the crowded road, trying in vain to dodge people who were so distracted with last minute preparations that they paid little attention to those in their path. Alistair gave an irritated look to one of the townsfolk when the man bumped into him, running past him without even an apology. "Are these people not scared or worried? I mean, it's not like there's an army of monsters currently threatening the entire nation."
"Unfortunately, most do not believe this is a true Blight," Duncan replied, side-stepping to avoid being hit by another running citizen. "It has been centuries since the last, and we killed so many darkspawn then that most assumed they were defeated for good. This in addition to the spreading rumors of the king's success in the south."
"I don't know if I would call that success. Every time we kill some more sprout up. Like weeds! Only without the cute little flowers some of them have," Alistair said, pausing as a grin spread upon his lips. "You know, I think darkspawn should consider wearing daisies over their heads. At least it would help draw our attention away from their ugly faces."
Duncan chuckled as he hopelessly shook his head. "Perhaps you can make the suggestion once we return to Ostagar."
"Maybe..." Alistair's smile then faded, humor leaving his voice. "Hey Duncan… I've been meaning to ask..."
"Yes?"
"I thought it only takes one Grey Warden to recruit. Why couldn't I stay behind with the others?"
"The tourney will help us find the last of the new recruits we need for the upcoming battle, and this will be a good experience for you," Duncan replied with a firm tone, "Be patient, Alistair. You will be back on the battlefield soon enough."
"Sure… all right." Alistair uttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
As they walked past an alley, a blur of lilac clothes suddenly came into Alistair's line of vision, and before he knew what it was, something slammed into him, nearly knocking him back. A hooded figure then fell to the ground, letting out a feminine 'oomph'.
"Hey!" Alistair immediately knelt with a concerned look, placing a hand upon her shoulder. "Are you-?" Her head snapped up and the hood slid back, revealing beauty that instantly robbed him of what little air remained in his lungs.
His eyes widened. Maker…
Dark, long lashes fluttered as eyes the color of the sky stared back at him, pulling him into their mystifying depths. Rounded cheeks were framed by loose strands of chestnut hair, the delicate locks accentuating her porcelain colored skin. Her full, soft-pink lips like rose petals, slightly parted as she panted for breath. He couldn't help but numbly offer her his hand, stunned into silence as he stared. She took it and allowed him to pull her up to her feet. She promptly adjusted her cloak, muttering a quick apology before storming past them.
Alistair remained rooted to the spot, a hand over the area she had hit as he numbly watched her disappear into the crowd. Duncan patted his shoulder with a faint smile. "You should close your mouth now, Alistair. Lest a fly make its way into it."
He shut his mouth, snapping out of his daze. "Right... Uh sorry."
"Come. We cannot afford any more distractions. The tourney is about to begin." Duncan uttered and then resumed their walk.
xxxxxxx
The crowd gathered around the arena, filling the stands at each side of the balcony, where the teyrn and his wife now sat. A younger man who resembled the teyrn stood at his side, a woman and a child sitting beside him. Alistair looked around the dirt field from his seat upon the stands, while next to him Duncan did the same, his arms crossed as he waited patiently for the battles to start. A bearded old man then stepped towards the center of the arena, a scroll secured within his hand before the teyrn stood, raising his hand to the crowd.
"Welcome to the celebration of our king's victories in the south! This event will determine the strongest of warriors, and whoever wins will be known as today's champion!" He then gestured to the old man below. "Aldous, let the festivities begin!"
Alistair gave Duncan an odd look. "Isn't it a little early to celebrate like this?"
"The families of the men who will be marching with him are gathered here. He is using the rumors as a way to keep them at ease before heading for battle." Duncan turned his sharp, brown eyes towards him. "Remember: A good leader always strives to maintain morale, even when the future is uncertain."
Aldous unraveled the scroll, calling forth the first match. Two muscular men stepped in from the sidelines as the crowd cheered. One of the men carried a claymore, while the other sported an axe and a shield. As they measured each other up, the cheers grew silent and they swung at each other, their weapons loudly clashing. Moments later, the fighter with the claymore won the first match, while the other man lay on the ground, having been knocked out cold by a hit to his helmet.
The other matches had been similar, as the brawniest men he had ever seen stepped in to prove their might. And despite Alistair being a well-built man himself, he had to admit that watching the behemoths beat each other senseless was a little unnerving.
"The next contenders are: From the farmlands of Lothering, Ser Lorec Phren!" The old man announced, calling forth the next match. Another man stepped in, heavily armored and resting a massive axe upon his shoulder. The crowd cheered loudly.
"And from our very own Highever!" The old man paused, raising a bushy brow. "Lady Eril Drake!"
The place instantly grew quiet as a woman made her way to the center of the arena, her head covered with the hood of her cloak.
"Hey… It's the girl from before." Alistair said with surprise, and once again, he couldn't help but stare. He vaguely noticed the long sword and dagger strapped to her back, his eyes instead taking in her hourglass figure as her lilac leather armor clung firmly to every curve. Definitely the most beautiful woman he ever saw.
The burly man's rumbling laughter pierced through the silence, and he turned a sadistic smirk to the old scholar, pointing a finger at Eril. "This is my next opponent?"
Aldous cleared his throat. "Yes, Ser Lorec. She is a late arrival."
"All right then…" Lorec gazed towards her, his smile hardening into a glare as he bent his knees and prepared his axe. "As a man of honor, I go against hurting women. But it seems you asked for it when you signed up, sweetheart."
She said nothing in response and merely drew her weapons in one fluid motion.
"Ugh… I can't look." Alistair winced, trying feebly to tear his eyes away from the scene below.
Duncan however, looked on with quiet interest.
Lorec moved in first, faster than expected despite the heavy weight he carried. He swung his axe sideways, drawing a gasp out of the crowd.
Eril back-flipped, easily avoiding the attack. She then began walking to the side, circling her opponent. He gave her a slightly irritated look and followed along, gripping his axe with both hands while adjusting it for another swing.
The two Grey Wardens watched intently as she continued to circle her adversary, with Alistair silently hoping she could dodge the next attack as she did the first.
Lorec quickly grew impatient with the pacing, and with a cry, he charged. He swung upwards at her as she jumped back, avoiding the hit. He then brought down the axe, hitting the ground upon which she had stood, sending dirt flying in every direction. With a frustrated growl he plucked his weapon out from the ground, swinging left at her. Again she dodged, doing the same with each attack he threw her way, seemingly mocking the fellow.
"Is she not going to fight back? This is getting old," Someone in the crowd said irritably.
Duncan intently observed her every move, running a hand down his thick, black beard.
"Fight, woman!" Ser Lorec snapped, breathing heavily as he swung his weapon, only to miss yet again. "I said fight!" He attacked again, but to everyone's surprise, this time she blocked with both weapons, the weight of the blow making her bend her knees and slide back two feet.
"Die, wench!" He began attacking her none-stop, each hit blocked by her blades.
Suddenly she moved, fluid as water, dodging one of his attacks while slicing his arm open with her dagger. He screamed, his axe dropping heavily to the ground. Panicking, he swung his other arm, trying to punch the nimble woman. Eril easily slid under it, slithering around him and pivoting on one foot as she brought her knife to his neck from behind. Then everything went quiet once more. Lorec stood frozen in place, the cold steel of her dagger pressing against his beating jugular as a bead of sweat slid down his brow. The fight was over.
"By the Maker…" Alistair breathed in disbelief while the crowd around them erupted into cheers.
A corner of Duncan's lips went up. "Defeating a foe larger than herself by turning their brute strength against them. Well done."
The following matches were against men with past victories, and they ended in the same fashion—with her blades mere inches from slicing their throats. Eril was fast and precise, obviously well trained on the skills of a rogue. She was able to easily break through the opposition, quickly gaining the support of those in the stands.
Soon they were at the last match, with all the prior warriors defeated by the next opponent and herself. The final battle would define the best between the two, as well as who was to be the champion of the tourney.
"The winner of the prior fight, Ser Gilmore of Highever!"
The crowd cheered, some women screaming with glee. The red headed, young man bowed humbly to them, his shield in one hand and a long sword in the other. He was geared in chainmail armor, light enough to allow for more rapid movement, yet heavy enough to provide protection.
"And Lady Eril of Highever!"
She stepped forth, her weapons at the ready.
Unlike the other men she had faced, Ser Gilmore respectfully bowed his head, a small smile on his lips. "May the best warrior win, my lady."
She responded with a subtle tilt of her head.
The match then began, and she instantly kicked forth, charging at full sprint. He only had enough time to raise his sword to block, shocked by her sudden burst of movement. She had previously taken her time defeating her opponents, now she seemed set on ending it quickly.
Eril pulled her arms back, sidestepped and slashed again, making him to block with his shield as she pushed forth. Her dagger slid through the polished surface, sparks flying as the tip slid off and almost graced his face. Ser Gilmore clenched his teeth and swung his shield, almost slamming it against her while forcing her off of him. As she stumbled back he slashed, barely missing her middle before she swiftly flipped back, putting distance between them.
Ser Gilmore narrowed his eyes and discarded his shield, changing his stance to hold his blade with both hands.
"He knows he will have to compensate for his lack of speed against her," Duncan said, more to himself than to his companion, "He will focus on his offense to make up the difference."
She slid down lower, changing the position of her weapons to face backwards, pommels facing him.
Duncan's brows went up. "She knows this."
Alistair glanced towards him in silent wonder. Drawing the Warden Commander's attention was hard to do, but impressing him was by far more difficult. And yet there he was, watching Duncan practically debate with himself in an attempt to determine which of the two fighters would be better suited to be a Warden—if not both.
The match soon increased in speed, as one soon closed in on the other, Eril obviously finding this match more difficult than the last. She swung one blade sideways, which he blocked with his armored arm. She then struck with the other, which he blocked with his sword. He pushed against her, using his superior strength to drive back her weapon while pushing her arms apart. He then slashed at her diagonally, forcing her to lean back to avoid it.
She stepped back and he swung again, but this time she crouched, dodging the hit. He followed through after the swing, turning on one foot and going low with a kick at her feet. He tripped her, and she fell hard on her back before he brought his blade down. She rolled to the side, avoiding his sword as it stabbed through her cloak and into the dirt. She then rolled backwards and away from him, his blade tearing off her cover in the process.
The crowd gasped and a stunned Ser Gilmore watched with wide eyes as she slowly rose to her feet.
"My lady!" He choked out.
"Everil!" The teyrna stood from her seat, horrified.
Everil smiled with determination, unfazed by the loss of her disguise, as a gentle breeze flowed through her waist-long hair, picking up the delicate waves.
Alistair's brow furrowed. "I take it they know her."
"They should…" Duncan uttered, his tone carrying a hint of disappointment. "She is the teyrn's daughter: Lady Everil Cousland."
Alistair's brows shot up. "Oh…"
Teyrn Cousland took his wife's hand, giving her a reassuring smile while urging her to sit. He then stood, his booming voice silencing the whispers in the crowd. "Proceed with the match!"
Ser Gilmore's head snapped towards him. "But your Lordship! I couldn't—"
"Come now, Ser Gilmore. Don't you think it is a little late for chivalry?" Everil said, an elegant smirk spreading upon her lips. "Besides, I believe you owe me a rematch after shamelessly cheating your way into a victory the last time we sparred."
"Heh… I suppose I do." He turned to her with a hopeless smile, respectfully bowing his head. "My apologies, my lady. I just didn't expect you to join in the festivities. Especially since your parents had expressly forbidden you to do so."
She chuckled, dropping into a fighting stance. "What can I say? I like breaking the rules."
"So I see!" He said as he rushed forth and closed the distance, slashing down only to have his attack blocked by one of her weapons. She leaned back as he brought his blade up, missing her completely. She then ducked and swung her blade, using her weight to compensate for strength as her pommel met his side, drawing a grunt out of him. He breathed in and took a step back, thankful for the armor's protection.
Ser Gilmore then swung his arm sideways, the pummel of his own blade missing her head by a hairline as she crouched. She then vaulted backwards into a backflip, nearly kicking his jaw before rushing forth, quickly slashing with her blades.
Up, down, side-to-side – He gritted his teeth as he blocked every attack. He leaned to the side, a blade swooshing inches from his cheek as he brought his leg up, kicking her square on the stomach and sending her to the ground. And while others in his position would have paused to check on his lord's daughter, he instead took the opportunity, moving in to bring down his blade.
Everil rolled over and pushed herself up, his sword stabbing dirt as she swung her legs at his feet. The hit knocked him off his feet and onto his back, and in seconds she was on him, straddling his waist with her blade touching his throat.
The corners of her mouth then curled up in triumph, her chest heaving as she breathed out two words: "I win."
The crowd roared, rising from their seats as they clapped. Her father stood with a smile, also clapping his hands.
Aldous approached the two as they pushed themselves to their feet, taking Everil's hand to lift her arm for all to see. "The winner of this year's tourney: Lady Everil Cousland of Highever!"
More cheers filled the arena as both fighters shook forearms, smiling at each other.
The cheers then grew silent as the teyrn began to speak, casting a warm smile upon his daughter as she gazed up at him.
"Well done, my child!" He said, loud enough for all to hear. "While this may have been quite the unexpected turn of events, your incredible display of skill has shown everyone that you are truly ready for the responsibilities I am about to bestow upon you."
He then turned his gaze towards those in the stands, raising his hand as he spoke. "My beloved people of Highever! As you all know, my son and I will be joining the king against the darkspawn in the south. Many of your sons, husbands and fathers shall also be marching with us, which will no doubt leave you feeling disquiet." He then glanced down at Everil from above. "But although nothing will keep you from worrying about those you love, know that you will all be in good hands while I am gone. My daughter shall be left in charge in my place. Please treat her with the same respect as you treat me."
"What…?" Everil breathed in bewilderment at the unexpected news.
xxxxxxx
"Your men are delayed?" Bryce said incredulously to Arl Howe, folding his arms over his chest as they spoke within Highever Castle's main hall.
"But you were to set out together. Being late to the king's call for aid is unacceptable," Uttered Eleanor, the teyrn's wife, disapproval in her aquamarine eyes.
"I am terribly sorry, my lord and lady. I fear this is entirely my fault." The arl said with apologetic eyes.
"No, no. It's quite all right. This war against the darkspawn has us all scrambling," Bryce said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. "I will send my son ahead of me with my men. You and I can ride to battle first thing in the morning, just like the old days."
Howe proudly lifted his chin. "Only then we fought against Orlesians, not monsters."
The teyrn chuckled. "At least the smell will be the same."
Eleanor hopelessly shook her head at the two men before reaching for her husband's hand, lightly squeezing it. "Maker, I cannot stand wars... my stomach is already twisted into knots over you and Fergus leaving."
"I know," He replied, bringing her hand up to lightly kiss it, "But don't worry, love. We will be back before you know it."
They then turned to the doors as a soldier made his way inside, bowing his head lightly before speaking. "Your Lordship, the guest you expected has arrived."
Bryce smiled. "Good. Show him in, please."
Moments later the two Grey Wardens stepped into the hall, their escort leading them to the teyrn.
"Duncan! Good to see you again." Bryce greeted as he approached them, reaching out to shake Duncan's forearm.
"It is always an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland. It has been some time." Duncan replied respectfully, shaking his arm as all warriors do. He then politely nodded to the teyrna. "My lady."
She stiffly returned the gesture.
"Grey Wardens?" Howe said with a troubled look upon his hawkish features. "How... unexpected."
"They arrived on short notice. Is that a problem?" The teyrn responded calmly, yet they didn't miss the subtle edge in his tone.
"Of course not, old friend." Howe responded, nervously fiddling with his fingers. "But guests of this stature demand certain protocol. I am… at a disadvantage."
"It is true we don't frequently have the pleasure of seeing them in person, however Duncan is a hero and a friend. He is always welcomed here." Bryce said as he returned his kind eyes to them.
"Thank you, my lord." Duncan said, respectfully bowing his head. And before further words could be exchanged, another door in the room flew open, drawing everyone's attention.
"Father!" Everil called in indignation as she walked in, holding up the skirts of her purple velvet dress while stalking towards him. "I can't believe you would choose to leave me behind like this. I wanted to go with you and Fergus!"
"I have already made my decision, pup. You are needed here." He replied sternly.
"But I-!"
"Everil, mind your manners," Her mother scolded gently and gestured to the others present. "We have guests."
Everil sighed in frustration, regaining some of her composure before turning her eyes to the arl. "Hello, Arl Howe. It is good to see you again."
"And you, child. I must say, you have grown into a lovely young woman," He said, his arrogant expression unchanging. "In fact, my son has been asking after you ever since he saw you at the last Denerim fair."
"Ah, yes. Thomas," She uttered dryly, recalling how the man had followed her around the entire eve, constantly staring at her breasts.
"Perhaps next time I shall bring him with me. That way the two of you could catch up."
She forced a smile. "My apologies, my lord, but I'm not interested in an arranged marriage."
The stunned look on the arl's smug face made Alistair stifle a chuckle, only to let out a yelp when Duncan elbowed his side.
Bryce shook his head, turning to Howe. "You see what I have to contend with here? You can't tell my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."
Everil then looked to the two Wardens, her irritation dissipating. "Oh! It's you two!"
Bryce gazed at her. "Pup, you have already met the Grey Wardens?"
"No, but I… ran into them earlier today." She replied, sending the younger Warden a playful smile.
"You could say that," Alistair said, returning her smile.
Bryce gave her a quizzical look, then gestured towards the senior Warden. "Then allow me to introduce you. This is Duncan, the Warden Commander of Ferelden. Duncan, this is my daughter, as you no doubt already know."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady," Duncan told her before motioning towards his companion, "This is Alistair. My newest apprentice."
"Pleased to meet you." Alistair politely tilted his head.
Everil's smile widened. "The pleasure is mine…"
Duncan then set his sharp eyes upon her. "I was watching from the stands earlier. Your skills are substantial. I was impressed."
"Your compliment is appreciated, Ser," Everil said before letting out a chuckle, "A shame my Father believes they are of better use within these four walls."
"Everil…" Eleanor warned gently.
"I know, I know." She sighed hopelessly, stubbornly folding her arms. "Don't worry, Mother. Despite my displeasure towards the decision, I will do what Father thinks is best. As I always have."
"That's what I like to hear," Bryce said, patting her head as if she were still a child. "Now you two should head upstairs and inform Fergus he is to leave ahead of me. I will join you shortly."
Everil frowned. "I thought you were all leaving today. What changed?"
"Come, dear." Eleanor gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders, guiding her out of the room. "I will explain on our way to your brother's quarters."
Upon the two leaving the room, Bryce returned his attention to Duncan. "Please forgive the interruption. My daughter can be quite spirited."
"A valuable trait in such times," Duncan said.
"I heard the Grey Wardens were recruiting. Did any of the warriors in the tourney pique your interest?"
"That is why I'm here, your Grace. The young man serving under you, Ser Gilmore. He showed great promise in the arena."
At this Alistair glanced towards him in puzzlement, knowing the knight hadn't been his first choice.
Bryce clasped his hands behind his back with a thoughtful look. "Hmm. He is my best warrior and practically part of the family. He is also the son of a bann, one who serves me loyally."
"I would like to recruit him, with your leave." Duncan's tone was unwavering.
"You have it." Bryce then tilted his chin up, giving Duncan a stiff look. "Now… considering today's turn of events, I assume you have someone else in mind."
Ah… so he suspects already. Alistair thought to himself, his eyes going from Duncan to the teyrn while taking notice of the subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Duncan met the teyrn's gaze. "Your daughter. She would also be an excellent candidate."
The teyn's shoulders stiffened as he spoke, his tone rigid. "I figured as much. But this is my daughter we're talking about. I would appreciate it if you would please avoid approaching her about this."
"I thought you said Grey Wardens are heroes, old friend," Howe said behind him. "I would think it would be an honor."
"It certainly would be. But I've not so many children that I would be willing to send them all off to war," Bryce replied, giving Duncan a troubled look. "Unless… you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription."
Duncan's gaze softened slightly and he shook his head. "Have no fear, my lord. While we are in desperate need of arms, I do not intend to force the issue."
Bryce let out a soft breath of relief, his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I thank you."
So conscripting in this case is more trouble than it's worth, Alistair thought as he glanced towards his mentor, The teyrn has a great deal of influence, sitting right under the crown. I can see why Duncan wouldn't want to risk making him angry.
"At any rate, I imagine you must be tired from your travels. Feel free to stay the night. You can march with me to Ostagar in the morning," Bryce said before turning to one of the guards, "Please take the Gray Wardens to Ser Gilmore. Make sure there is a room ready for them afterwards."
The guard nodded, slamming a fist to his chest. "Yes, my lord."
xxxxxxx
"I still can't believe you snuck into the tourney like that. Do you have any idea what could have happened? You could have been taken from me... still could." Eleanor said to her daughter as they made their way through the castle halls.
"Taken?" Everil raised an eyebrow, absently playing with a strand of her hair as they walked. "Taken by whom?"
"The Grey Wardens. They are looking for recruits to help fight against the Blight."
Everil smiled dryly. "I don't think you have anything to worry about, Mother. Father would never allow it."
"You don't understand," Eleanor said worriedly, "Grey Wardens have the king's leave to conscript whomever they wish—even someone of noble birth."
"Really? I didn't know they had that kind of power."
"They do. And I hope your father can keep them from getting any ideas. I will not watch my only other child be dragged into this war."
Suddenly a bark and a scream echoed through the halls, followed by a stream of curses as they passed the service wing. Their heads snapped towards the noise just in time to see a large dog burst out of the kitchen, a dead chicken secured within its maws. An old woman chased after it, a rolling pin in hand as she yelled at the animal. "You rotten fiend!"
"Magnus!" Everil called out as the dog ran towards her, hiding behind her skirts.
"You!" The old woman stopped before her, her wrinkled cheeks flushed in anger. "Your dirty mongrel found a way into the larder again! Do something about it!"
Everil gave her an apologetic smile. "He's a growing boy, Nan. He demands more food than what the servants give him, that's all."
"That dog eats better than most of our staff!" Nan retorted, gesturing to the hound as it shrunk back behind its mistress.
Having nearly raised her, Nan was the only servant in the castle who could scold her in such a way. It sometimes felt as if she had two mothers, there to scold her and lecture her everywhere she went. And this was one of those times.
"I'm sorry he bothered you, Nan." Everil sighed hopelessly as she reached down to the hound with her open hand. Magnus obediently dropped the chicken into it and she held it by the neck, unfazed by the dripping blood as she offered it to the cook. "I don't know if it is any good anymore. But here."
Nan shook her head with a disgusted scowl, taking the bird from her hand. "Just keep the bloody mutt out of the kitchen, or I swear I will leave this place. I cannot do my job with that beast roaming about."
"I know. From now on I will make sure to leave him in my room while I'm away. Will that help?"
"Yes, my lady." Nan replied tiredly, bowing her head. "It would be appreciated."
"All right then." Everil then turned to look down at the hound. "You heard me. No more raiding the kitchen for food. Understood?"
He whined a little, looking up at the three women with the saddest look he could muster.
Everil smiled lovingly, petting is head. "Oh that won't work on me, silly dog. I was the one who taught you that trick, remember?"
Magnus barked in response, happily wagging his stubby tail.
"Thank you, my lady. Now we can prepare food for our soldiers in peace." Nan said with a short bow before turning to leave.
"Good work. You always had a way with her." Eleanor smiled, patting her shoulder. "Maybe your hound will refrain from causing anymore mischief from now on. I swear that dog is too smart for his own good."
Everil chuckled. "I don't know. Seeing Nan chasing him like that was pretty funny."
"I can see why the dog chose you as its mistress." Her mother said with a chuckle of her own before they resumed their walk.
xxxxxxx
"Auntie Evy, auntie Evy!" Her nephew chanted as he ran towards her the moment they entered the room, wrapping his small arms around her waist. "Your fighting was impwessive!"
She smiled down at him, ruffling his brown hair. "Thank you, Oren."
Fergus walked up to her, folding his arms. "I imagined you would do something like that when I didn't see you with us. You put up a good show out there, little sister."
"Don't encourage her," Eleanor said with a sigh, "If she were not so fond of battle, maybe it would be easier for me to find her a suitor."
"Not many have the guts to marry strong women, Mother," Fergus told her with a laugh, "Although I'm sure the real reason is her utter refusal to let you or Father make decisions for her. She's as headstrong as a boar."
"I'm standing right here, you know," Everil said with mock irritation, still hugging her nephew.
"So, did you two come to see me off?" He said crossing his arms.
Eleanor's smile then faded. "Yes... and we bring a message from your father, dear. You are to leave ahead of him. "
"Ah…" Fergus' shoulders dropped slightly at the news. "So the arl's men really are delayed. Maker, I swear it's almost as if they walked backwards, the idiots."
Standing a step behind him, Fergus' wife's face fell. "I wish we had more time... "
He gently took her hand between both of his. "Don't worry, love. I promise to write you each day."
She smiled lightly.
"Is it daw'rkspewn you will be fighting, papa?" His son asked excitedly. "I sure wish I could see it!"
"Darkspawn, Oren. And I don'believe it would be a pretty sight." Fergus half-joked.
"Maker, I don't want to think about it." Orianna said with a frown.
"Fergus will be fine." Everil said as she looked down at Oren, stroking the boy's hair. "Your Father is a better fighter than I, and you saw me defeat those big brutes today."
"Yes! You should teach me how to fight too, auntie!" Came Oren's energetic reply. "I want to learn how to use a sward too!"
"Ask your mother." Everil grinned.
"My answer is no." Orianna sighed at her sister in law.
Oren turned to his mother with a pout. "I never get to do anything!"
Light laughter filled the room as Bryce arrived, walking up to them and placing his hand on his wife's shoulder. "I see you have been given the news."
Fergus nodded. "Yes, I will ready the men and set out immediately."
"Father, have the Grey Wardens left?" Everil asked, and seeing her mother's glare, she quickly added. "Don't worry! I won't seek them out. I'm only curious."
"Grey Wardens! Were they riding on griffons?" Oren asked in wonder.
"Griffons are extinct, dear. They only exist in story books now," His mother said.
Bryce smiled lightly. "Yes. They came looking for recruits. They have decided on Ser Gilmore."
"Ser Gilmore? I see..." Everil uttered quietly, slightly disappointed. He had been around her since they were kids and they had even been involved in a bit of a relationship behind closed doors. Something he cut short for her sake.
Although he was the son of a Bann, he was still considered to be of inferior status. They would never been allowed to marry, or be anything other than friends. Chastity was important for noble daughters to marry into other noble families and reputation was everything for members of the nobility. So despite her advances, they had never shared anything other than daring kisses.
It had taken years for her to set aside the feelings she had for him, but she still cared for him as someone of importance in her life.
"I'm surprised they didn't ask for my little sister instead," Fergus said with a proud smile, gently punching her shoulder. She looked at him with mock irritation in return.
"It's better this way," Bryce said simply.
Eleanor stepped towards her son, eyeing him with concern as she lovingly stroked his cheek. "Please be safe out there, my dear boy. I will be praying for you every day you are gone."
"You worry too much, Mother." He gave her a gentle hug. "We will return soon, I promise."
"Pup." Her father turned to her. "You should head to bed now. You will need an early rise tomorrow."
Everil sighed, but nodded. "Understood, Father."
Fergus walked up to her, bringing her in for a tight embrace, speaking quietly enough for only her to hear, "Take care of everyone, Everil."
She wrapped her arms around her older brother, returning the hug as her chest tightened. There was a real possibility this would be the last time she would ever see him.
"Make sure you come back in one piece, brother," She uttered against his chest before pulling away, grinning up at him. "Now get out of here already. Those darkspawn are not going to kill themselves—Lucky oaf!"
"I'll kill a few in your name, don't worry." He chuckled, patting her shoulder.
She then left the room, leaving her family to talk as she crossed the hall into her bedroom. She opened the door and stepped inside with a sigh. The next couple of days would be a stressful few.
xxxxxxx
Loud barking and knocking on the door startled her awake, causing her to sit up with a confused look towards her door. Her eyes then turned to her dog, who was barking and growling angrily at the door.
Then more banging reached her ears.
She quickly pushed herself up, adjusting her nightgown as she walked to the door. "What's the meaning of this? Why—"
When she opened it, a small body collapsed onto her. Her arms automatically wrapped around him, catching him before she slid down to her knees to rest his head on her lap.
Her heart twisted upon seeing who it was. "O-Oren?"
A flash of silver suddenly came down onto her, making her eyes widen in surprise. Magnus lunged himself forward, trapping the attacker's arm between his jaws and biting down with crushing force, drawing an agonizing scream from the attacker. Before the enemy could defend himself, the hound had already pounced, knocking the man back onto his back and clamping down on his jugular, mercilessly ripping it out. Blood sprayed as the canine stepped off, leaving the man to bleed out upon the floor.
She nodded gratefully to the dog in a daze, before turning her gaze down at the little boy resting his head upon her lap. His back had been slashed open and he was hemorrhaging profusely onto her skirts, soaking the pure white fabric and turning it red. She immediately knew there was nothing she could do for him. He was going to die.
"Auntie…?" Oren said groggily.
"Yes, darling," She forced a smile for him, refusing to let him see the grief she felt.
"I tried… to protect Mother…" He coughed, blood beginning to stream down his lips. "But I'm not…like father…"
"No… she's safe… you were very brave, Oren. Your father is very proud of you." She whispered down to him, stroking his cold cheek with quivering fingers.
Anyone watching would probably say she was cruel for lying to him, for deceiving him, but she didn't care. She would be damned if he died feeling shame for himself. She couldn't save him, but she would make sure he went with pride and honor, like any warrior.
"Ah… I'm… a hero." He turned his eyes to look past her now, to an empty spot behind her, a small smile upon his lips.
"Mother? I… did save her…" He whispered, his voice fading as his breathing stopped and his eyes turned blank.
Everil let out a single sob, and then swallowed the thick knot within her throat. She laid down his corpse gently and stood, her body seemingly moving on its own as she quickly opened her trunk and replaced her bloody gown with her family armor. She could already hear more footsteps coming from the hall. But they had bypassed her room upon seeing the open door and the bloodied floors, going straight towards her parents' quarters. Something they would soon regret.
Once ready, she stepped out to see them bang on the door, her eyes catching the emblem painted on their shields.
Howe's men? She bit out inwardly, the grip on her weapons tightening as anger boiled up within her. Maker… Why are they doing this!
"You all have your backs turned to me, presuming me dead. Not a smart move, boys," She said in a velvety voice, slowly walking out to stand between them and their only way out. The men quickly turned around, bloodied weapons in hand.
"It's Lady Everil!" One of them said as all color drained from his face.
"Ah… so you yet have the decency to call me by title, despite attacking my castle and shedding the blood of my family." She uttered venomously and took a step forward, the torches on the walls making her eyes glint red. "How very considerate of you."
They took a step back, but they were already cornered against the door to her parents' room. They hesitated, exchanging fearful looks. One of them swallowed, and dropped into a fighting stance. "Come on! She's just a woman!"
The others followed suit. "Let's kill her quickly!"
"Come then. I shall make you pay for every last drop of blood you have spilled within these halls!" She cried out enraged, and her dog charged first, tackling one of the soldiers down. She lunged forth, easily evading their attacks. She stabbed one in the neck, watching as he fell while making gurgling noises.
She twisted and pressed her knife on another's throat, slicing it with the length of her blade, much slower than she would for a quick kill. As another reached out to her, her dog bit his leg, pinning him as she brought around her sword, cutting his hand clean off. He fell and screamed, rolling over on his stomach as he cradled the amputated limb.
Everil looked to her hound. "Kill him."
The hound walked up and bit the man's neck, shaking him like a rag doll until it snapped.
Seeing that it was over, she quickly approached her parent's room and knocked on the door. "Mother, Father… it's me. Are you in there?"
The door slowly opened, revealing her mother, who had changed into her own armor, a long bow hanging over her shoulder. Upon seeing her covered in blood, she looked her over in a panic. "Andraste's mercy! Are you all right!"
"Don't worry. It's not my blood," Everil said calmly, her hands on her mother's shoulders, "Come. We must hurry before more of them show up."
"Who—" Eleanor looked down, seeing the emblem on a shield. "Those are Howe's men! Why would they attack us?"
"He has betrayed Father." Everil uttered with a scowl, putting the pieces together in her mind. "He delayed his men on purpose and they attack while our soldiers are gone."
"That bastard! I knew something was wrong! I will cut his lying throat myself!" Eleanor closed her hands into fists, her knuckles turning white before her anger turned to fear. "Have you seen your Father? He never came to bed!"
"No, but we must find him!" Everil said and made to walk down the hall. "Let's go."
"Wait!" Eleanor frowned worriedly, taking her hand to stop her. "What about Oren and Oriana?"
Everil stiffened, not daring to look her mother in the eye. She opened her mouth and closed it, unable to say anything. Her mother instead looked towards her son's room, quickly noticing the blood splatters trialing out across the hall.
"No..." She breathed.
"I couldn't save them..." Everil murmured painfully, "Oren was the one who alerted me… but it was too late."
"No! My little Oren!" Eleanor was about to rush to her room, but Everil's hand gripped hers.
"We don't have time, Mother!" She snapped sternly, "We can mourn them later! Right now we have to find Father!"
Eleanor choked in a sob and slowly nodded, forcing down the tears as they both turned to run down the hall. They fought their way through more soldiers that were making their way up to their sleeping quarters, killing anyone in their way. Everil would take them head on along with her hound, while Eleanor stood back, shooting arrows from a distance.
As they ran down towards the soldier's quarters, her mother grabbed her by the arm, stopping them both in their tracks. "Wait!"
Everil gave her an impatient look. "Mother, we must—"
"Listen to me!" Eleanor demanded, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears, "Howe seeks to kill us all, and if you die, the entire Cousland bloodline ends here. I don't want you bent on seeking revenge right now. Your goal is to survive. Do you understand?"
"If I see Howe, I will take the opportunity and run him through!" Everil replied stubbornly.
"Please, darling. Howe is not to be taken lightly." Eleanor pleaded above the sound of the screams, her loving gaze meeting hers. "Now promise me! Promise me you won't fight him! No matter what happens to me or your Father."
Everil let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine... I promise."
"Good. We will use the secret passage in the kitchen larder to escape the castle. It is possible your Father is making a stand in the main hall. We will look there." She said evenly, before pulling a key from under her armor and plucking it from around her neck. "Before that, we must stop by the vault and retrieve the family blade there. I want you to take it and bring it with you."
Her mother's eyes then narrowed. "That blade cannot fall into Howe's hands. It should severe his traitorous head!"
The Cousland blade had been passed down her family since the first. It was made of the toughest metal found in Ferelden, and its edge was still as sharp as when it was forged. Everil knew her mother was preparing her should the worse happen. While her mother used to be a formidable warrior in her youth, there was a possibility she would fall on their way down through the brunt of Howe's forces. With a nod, Everil clasped the key, hanging it around her neck. "All right. Let's go."
xxxxxxx
Soldiers surrounded every corner, and most of the staff had been slaughtered, even the guards who once stood by the vault. She took her family sword, discarding her sword to use it in its place. On their way out, she easily dispatched the enemies trying to get in, leaving their bloodied bodies behind.
They had finally arrived to the main hall, and the fighting on their way was taking a toll on her. She was tired, but she refused to show it.
"Your Ladyship, my lady! Thank the Maker you are both all right!" Ser Gilmore said with relief as he jogged over to them, followed by the two Grey Wardens.
"Howe's men surround the castle, we must move quickly," Duncan told them as loud bangs were heard behind the main doors, the remaining soldiers pushing against them in an attempt to keep the enemy out.
Everil gave Duncan a firm nod, then her eyes shifted amongst them. "Have any of you seen my Father?"
Ser Gilmore gestured towards the service wing of the castle. "The last time I saw him he had been badly hurt, but he was determined to find you. He told us to hold the gates while he went out searching for you. He went towards the kitchen."
She bit her lip, then turned to the Wardens. "Come with us. We know a way out, but we need your help."
"Of course. We'll follow you, my lady." Alistair replied without hesitation.
"Thank you." She uttered, giving him a fleeting smile before they made for the door. But seeing Ser Gilmore wasn't following, Everil turned around. "Come on!"
The banging at the doors became louder and the soldiers holding it shut were beginning to grunt against the force.
"I will not be going." Ser Gilmore said quietly, turning to the two Wardens. "Grey Wardens, please help them escape. The rest of the men and I will hold the door to buy you time."
Everil took a step. "What? You can't—"
"Go!" He snapped, shocking her into silence.
His eyes then softened as a sad smile spread upon his lips. "Please… You know this is how it should be."
Everil's chest tightened. "Ser Gilmore…"
Everything around her was falling apart and there wasn't a damn thing she could do. She knew that no matter how much she begged him to follow he would do what his duty as her knight demanded. Even if it meant giving up his life so that she and her family could live.
He took a step towards her and gently took her hand in both of his, his eyes meeting hers. "Just remember… you were not only my lady, but someone I treasured deeply."
She suddenly took hold of his armor and pulled him down to her, pressing her lips to his. His shoulders slumped as he returned the kiss and then she slowly pulled away.
"Thank you…" She whispered, holding back tears, "For everything…"
"It has been an honor," He uttered, gently caressing her cheek. "Now go."
"Maker watch over you, Ser Gilmore," Eleanor quietly told him, sadness in her eyes.
"Maker… watch over us all!" He said somberly and then ran to join the soldiers in holding the door.
xxxxxxx
Alistair watched the two women as they ran through the halls, a mabari hound he assumed was theirs running ahead of them. Duncan held the rear, following close behind them. He couldn't imagine what they were going through. Everything had been quiet mere hours ago, and suddenly chaos had taken over the castle. Blood soaked every corridor while the bodies of castle staff littered the halls.
Soon they ran into more soldiers, those who filtered in through the back of the castle no doubt. The teyrna stood back, releasing arrows onto them as Everil engaged them, weaving her way around their attacks and sinking her blades into them. The hound he had heard them call Magnus took down some of his own, ripping out their throats for quick kills.
Duncan easily dispatched the enemies coming from behind, his technique with the two blades much more polished than that of the lady running ahead. Like a serpent, he slithered around each attack, slashing through weak spots between armor plating, quickly eliminating any who dared follow them.
Alistair had busied himself engaging the bigger men, Howe's own knights it seemed. Magnus had stepped in to help, latching onto the enemy's weapon arm as Alistair slashed with his blade.
They made it through to the kitchens, soaked in blood and tired, stepping over the mangled corpses of the servants. Everil spotted Nan's body on the floor by the larder, along with some elven servants, all lying on a pool of their own blood. She closed her eyes and painfully looked away, walking past her body and towards the door.
Eleanor barged in, looking around the darkened room.
"There… you two are." Came the weak voice of the teyrn.
"Bryce!" Eleanor was quickly at his side. "Maker's blood! What happened? You're bleeding!"
"Howe… he… tried to do me in at the study," He said between gasps for breath. "I was looking for you… I am relieved... you are unharmed."
Duncan turned to Alistair and motioned with his head to the kitchen door. At which Alistair nodded slightly, keeping an eye out for incoming soldiers.
Everil's hands closed tightly around her weapons as she gazed upon her father's gaping wound, anger gripping her heart as she spoke, "Howe will pay for this, Father."
Bryce looked up at her with weak eyes, sweat and blood trickling down his brow. "You must go… tell Fergus and the king what happened."
Everil knelt down before him. "You can tell them yourself, Father."
He looked away from her, his eyes downcast. "I… I'm afraid I will not survive the standing."
"Bryce no! We can get you out of here! Find you healing magic." Eleanor said with urgency, pressing her hands to his in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.
"I'm sorry, love…" He uttered. "I am too weak and the castle is surrounded. I will only be a burden to you."
"No." Everil felt her chest constrict once more. "You can do it. I can help support you. The Wardens can help us escape."
He shook his head, then turned to Duncan with begging eyes. "Please… get my wife and daughter out of here. You are their only hope."
"Of course, your Lordship. But I'm afraid I must ask for something in return," Duncan said as he knelt down next to Everil, "What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil now unleashed upon this world. I came to your castle seeking a recruit. The Blight threat demands that I leave with one and Ser Gilmore is no longer an option."
"Wait…" Everil frowned. "Are you talking about me?"
"Yes. You fought your way to us through Howe's men. I believe the Maker's intentions are clear." Duncan replied, turning eyes to her before casting his steely gaze upon the teyrn. "Should you agree, I will take the teyrna and your daughter with me to Ostagar. There they can tell the king what happened. After that, your daughter joins the Grey Wardens."
Alistair glanced over his shoulder, suddenly feeling wrong about what was about to happen. The teyrn was at death's doorstep, and yet here they were, practically demanding to take his daughter away to a war that might very well get her killed.
Bryce and Eleanor exchanged a glance, at which Eleanor hesitantly nodded. The teyrn swallowed, then spoke. "I… understand."
"But… I want Howe dead!" Everil said darkly, her eyes narrowing at him.
"Your revenge must come later." Duncan responded, unfazed by the dirty look she was giving him.
"Darling..." Her mother began gently, drawing her attention, "You will do it. You will survive this, help save Ferelden and avenge our family. I expect nothing less from you."
Everil's eyes widened slightly. Her mother had always been against her itch to fight and her need for adventure. Yet now she was pushing her into danger in order to save her life.
"Now go with the Wardens. You have a better chance to escape without me." Eleanor told her, turning sad eyes to her husband.
"What?" Everil breathed.
"But love…" Bryce protested weakly.
"Hush Bryce. I will kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time." She said with a determined look.
"No…" Everil's anguished eyes shifted between the two. "No! I can't let you sacrifice yourself for me!"
"I couldn't go on living without your Father, and if my life can help save yours then so be it." Eleanor uttered with a loving smile.
Bryce nodded weakly. "Go… make your mark on the world, pup."
Everil took their hands, holding them tightly. "No, please! Don't do this!"
A loud bang and the cries of soldiers echoed through the castle, sending a chill down her spine.
"They broke through!" Alistair alerted, turning to the group. "We should hurry!"
Duncan looked at his new recruit, pulling her by the arm, and separating her from her parents.
"No!" She cried out.
"Come!" Duncan pulled her towards the door at the back of the larder, Alistair and Magnus going ahead of them. She was dragged away as she reached out to them, watching her parents hold each other as she went.
"Good bye darling. We love you very much." Eleanor told her as tears rolled down her eyes, smiling weakly.
The three snuck out through the back of the castle, taking advantage of the dark the night provided. The sound of screams echoed from within, as the rest of their soldiers were slaughtered. Everil ran, following the two Wardens as if in a trance, everything around her just a blur. It felt like they ran for hours, and she panted as moments later they climbed up a steep slope. They emerged from the foliage to stand upon a hill that oversaw the castle in the distance, and she stopped, breathing heavily as she slowly turned around to make herself look.
Noticing that Everil wasn't following anymore, Alistair paused in his tracks. "Duncan, wait."
Duncan paused, and the two Wardens quietly turned to her, taking a few steady steps towards her as she stood still, her hair flowing with the cold breeze. Her hound sat next to her, looking on towards the castle. The faint light of torches surrounded her home, a deep black smoke rising from within as flames engulfed every room.
Suddenly feelings she had never felt before pierced her heart like a bear's jaws biting through flesh—grief and helplessness. Her jaw tightened painfully and her fists shook. She had lost everything she loved and everything she owned. All in one night.
Alistair gave her a sympathetic look, noticing her shoulders shake. "Listen…I'm—"
"Don't," She cut him off sharply, "I have no right to mourn their deaths. Not until I've severed Howe's head with my own hands." She then whirled around, determination in her eyes as a single tear slid down her cheek. She then began to walk, her head held high and voice even. "Now let's go. There is a Blight to stop."
The two men silently watched her walk past them as she entered the woods ahead, followed by her faithful hound, heading south.