I am ADDICTED to Dragon Age. After playing through it a few times, this story developed, and I look forward to seeing where the muses take me with it. Obviously, this deviates from the game storyline somewhat, though the general idea is the same. Eventually this will be a Cousland/Alistair, Zevran/Surana/Anders, and Mahariel/Tamlen.

I ask that you REVIEW if you read this story, mostly because getting feedback makes me inspired and keeps the muses chattering in my ear. Authors like to know their labors of love are appreciated, after all, and reviews are the BEST way to do it, even if they're only three words long.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except my OC's.

Chapter One

Duncan and the Couslands of Highever

"Milady." When no response was given, a hard shake jostled her shoulder impatiently. "Milady, please. Lord Bryce has requested your appearance in the main hall."

Elena Cousland groaned, louder then before, and attempted to yank her covers over her head more to block out Udia's insistent pestering. The elf woman was a long time servant of her family's and, as such, had little if any qualms with kicking them out of bed in the mornings if necessary.

Quite literally, as was the case this particular morning.

"Udia…" In a tangled mess of sheets on the cold stone floor of her room in nothing but her smallclothes, Elena glowered up at the elf who was wholly unrepentant and already remaking her bed for her. "You know I could have you flogged for that, right?"

"Ah, but you won't." She didn't even pause and, in fact, took the sheet away from her with a quick yank so she stood with nothing but her underclothes to cover her from the morning chill in the air. "Quickly now. Celia has drawn a warm bath for you and Vyse is fetching your armor for you. You've a busy day, milady!"

"It's Elena, Udia!" The shouted reminder was pointless; the fair haired elf woman absolutely refused to call her anything else but 'milady'.

True to her word, a warm bath was waiting for her in the bathing chambers, the water smelling vaguely floral thanks to the bath oils Celia liked so much. The young elf girl looked very much like her mother, both fair haired and light eyed with that elven blue color that no human ever had, though she held herself with all the pride of her Dalish father.

"Mornin' Elena." The young girl beamed, much more at ease with the informal greeting then her mother had ever been. "Picked the Brecillian Rose extract today; Lady Landra arrived early with her son, Lord Dairren, and that lady in waiting of hers, Iona."

Elena laughed as she shed her clothes and sank blissfully into the warm water. Brecillian Rose was a seductive scent, meant to distract men (and women, sometimes) more then anything. Celia had nearly a hundred different extracts and always had a bit of humor when deciding which to apply to her bath water.

The steaming water soothed aching muscles that were still complaining at her from yesterday's sparring session with Fergus. With her elder brother going off to fight darkspawn in the south at Ostagar today, she'd had to give him a proper goodbye last night…which was essentially a good thrashing and several threats of violence to his person, should he have the fool notion to get himself killed down there. Her sister-in-law, Elena knew, had already considered slipping just enough poison into his food so that he would not have to leave. No one knew poison like Antivan women, after all, and Oriana was certainly one of the best Elena had ever seen.

She'd never forget that food poisoning fiasco at their celebratory wedding dinner for as long as she lived. It had certainly taught Fergus a lesson about embarrassing her in public. The lavatories had smelled for weeks afterwards though…

Celia whistled a random tune, as was her habit, as she helped her wash and rinse her hair. They were elven tunes Elena was well familiar with; Damyan, Udia's husband, frequently whistled them too whenever she saw him walking the keep's grounds. He was a proud man, fiercely protective of his heritage like all Dalish elves were, and had gotten into more then one argument with Mother Mallol over the years. Her parents generally turned a blind eye to his beliefs and were even somewhat intrigued by elven heritage, so long as he hid it in front of Mallol. Arguing with anyone of the Chantry, her father had once sighed, was like arguing with a brick wall.

Elena knew this only too well.

"Better get a move on," Vyse huffed as the eight year old bounded inside with his small arms clutching her leather armor. "Sounds like Arl Howe is here today and the Teyrn is waiting to introduce you to someone, Elena."

She groaned audibly. If it was another matchmaking scheme setup by her mother…

The smug little elf boy must've known what she was thinking and shook his head. "He looked a bit too old to be one of them dandies the Teyrna's been having stop by for you these past weeks." With his mother's light hair but his father's pale grey eyes, Vyse reminded her way too much of his sister.

Well, the sister neither he nor Celia knew, anyway.

Shaking her head, Elena told him, "Run unless you want to be flashed, kid." Vyse dropped her clothes and bolted with a boyish shriek, making Celia laugh. Even she had to chuckle. "One day he's not going to actually run when a girl says that to him."

"If he stops thinking long enough for puberty to set in…maybe." Celia clicked her tongue absently and shook her head. "Maybe by then his body will grow into those feet of his. Anyway; let's get you dressed now, hmm? Best not keep the Teyrn waiting."

Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever and her glorified father, had the patience of a saint. He had to, considering ten minutes in the same room with Arl Rendon Howe and Elena generally wanted to murder something. The presence of the Grey Warden, Duncan, had lessened the effect to some degree, but to no avail…her fingers itched to do something violent. More then once, the arl had tried to get her interested in his son, Thomas. He was three years her senior and, from what she could see, was shaping up to be a second coming of his father. Thankfully, her father took the idea of a match being made between them as seriously as she did. The younger one, maybe, but he'd gone off to be squired in the Free Marches before the arl had really started hinting at the idea. Even her mother, desperately wishing for more grandchildren as she did, never actually considered Thomas Howe as an actual candidate. How much of that being her distaste at the idea of being related to the arl, Elena had no clue.

One thing was clear, though; if Elena disliked the man, Eleanor Cousland downright hated him. Too ruthless, too ambitious, she'd confided once. As a general rule, her mother didn't like leaving the arl alone with her father at all either. Something in his gaze as he watched her father sometimes was just…

"Blowhard." Turning around, Elena smiled when she saw it was just Damyan. Obviously, the man had just seen the arl too.

The snarl on his lips eased away slightly as he noticed her. "Aneth ara, da'len." The tension in his shoulders eased somewhat, though she noticed it didn't go away completely. Howe had that effect on people, sadly. Eyeing her Mabari hound that was standing vigilantly at her side, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "Lethallin."

Lethallin barked, once, and wagged his stub of a tail happily.

"So the kitchens are safe once more," he sighed. "I swear Nan's voice could pierce straight into the Fade itself when she's in a mood."

"You look tired, Damyan." His grey-speckled dark hair that was tied back into a ponytail let her see clearly his pale grey eyes. They'd sparkled once with fierce pride and still did, to an extent, but they'd lost a lot of their luster after…well…the 'Incident'. No one ever spoke of it, and it seemed easier for Udia to just pretend she'd never existed, but Damyan had been fiercely proud of his first daughter and had never quite recovered from having her ripped away from him. One day he'd sent his first child out to play with her and Fergus, only to never see her again come sundown.

"I am…growing old, I suppose." He smiled faintly. "Don't worry about me, da'len. Aging has made me nostalgic of late. Dareth shiral."

Elena watched him until he rounded a corner and disappeared from her line of sight, sighing. The templars may as well have killed him that day, for all the good it did him.

She stopped briefly to greet Lady Landra (who could forget that swaying dance on the tables at her mother's annual spring salon?) and her son Dairren. Landra's lady in waiting, Iona, reminded her sorely of Azalia. They'd been friends and, had things turned out different, she would've been her lady in waiting when the time came. Elena had never had the heart to choose someone else to take the spot she'd always figured her friend would one day occupy.

Funny that I should think of her today, Elena thought with a sigh as she slid into bed that night, Lethallin curled up dutifully at the foot of it. She'd bid Fergus farewell one more time (and reminded him of how nice and warm she'd be while he froze his ass off down south) before heading off to bed as her father had suggested. The news of the delay of Arl Howe's men left her troubled even more then the lack of manpower she would have available to protect Highever. It wasn't many at all for such a large area.

Hopefully nothing too terrible would happen.

Barking.

Elena awoke with Lethallin's first snarling bark, blinking wearily as she sat up in nothing but her under things. Even when she tried to quiet him, he continued, and she narrowed her eyes at the door as she stood up and got dressed. Her Mabari always stood down when she told him to unless…

She was still buckling the last buckle on her boots when her bedroom door opened with a crash, the servant who'd done so coughing on his blood as he was sliced down by a soldier, screaming. In a flurry of movement, Lethallin lunged, taking down an archer just as he managed to get a shot off, the arrow glancing off the shoulder padding of her armor. As he went down, Elena caught sight of the crest on the shield hanging on his back.

That's the Howe Family crest! Why…? Shaking her head, she shoved it aside for later. Like when all these Howe soldiers were dead or dying and bleeding bright red blood on her home's floor.

Withdrawing both of her blades, Elena charged and disappeared several feet in front of her first target, using stealth to get behind him and deliver a fatal stab to the back of his neck so deep the blade protruded out on the other side. She whirled, the dagger ripping through the flesh and out with her movement just as another soldier brought a waraxe down upon her. She blocked it with the long sword; it left her hand with the dagger free so she could bring it up and slit open his entire throat, blood spraying momentarily before he crumpled with a wide-eyed look of surprise.

Uncharitably, Elena spat on him and glanced around to see Lethallin overwhelming the last of her assailants. Her hound did favor going for the throat. Huh. Made quite the mess, but she wasn't about to complain about a little blood.

"Darling, are you alright?" Her mother busted through the hall door and Elena barely managed not to throw her dagger at her in her paranoia.

"Not really any worse then I might be in a scrape with Fergus." Now their spars were absolutely brutal. To her brother – and father's, secretely – way of thinking, it would keep Elena far safer then if they went easy on her and never pushed her to get better. Pain was a great motivator – at least for her. Fergus had never landed a hit on her since she'd turned sixteen and she was eighteen now.

Eleanor managed a wry smile, though she checked her over anyway even after Lethallin licked her armor clean of the blood. "I heard fighting and rushed right over here – these are Howe's men!"

"He's betrayed us!" she snarled furiously. Elena didn't bother sheathing her weapons – they'd need them soon enough, anyway.

"That traitorous bastard." Fury sparked in her mother's eyes, and in that moment Elena could see the battle maiden Eleanor had always claimed she could be. "I'll sever his treacherous head myself!"

"Vicious, mother," she murmured, grinning.

Her smile was decidedly nasty. Maybe she hadn't gotten all of her personality from her father after all. "I'm still a highly capable rogue, my darling. I'm hardly the wilting flower that bastard thinks all women are. Now come; we must find your father!"

Between her, her mother, and Lethallin, they made easy work of Howe's men. To be honest, most of the men were felled by a well placed arrow through the head or neck then any injury she inflicted. And Elena was sure that kick to the one fallen soldier's gonads was purposeful. With only a brief detour to her family's treasury so she could retrieve some of her family's treasured armaments, they finally arrived at the main hall where her mother had said her father had been last.

They broke through the doors and immediately jumped into the middle of the fight between their soldiers and Howes. With the extra manpower, they easily defeated Howe's soldiers, and Elena watched with morbid fascination as her blade severed the head of the sole mage among Howe's troops. Where did it even fly off to?

"Thank the Maker!" Ser Gilmore breathed – his armor was soaked with blood both fresh and not. "I thought Howe's men got through."

"They did." Looking around, anxiety gripped at her when she saw no sign of her father.

"Where's Bryce?" Eleanor demanded.

Ser Gilmore bent his head shamefully. "I saw the Teyrn with that Grey Warden fellow a short while ago – badly injured, he was. Told him to have it seen to, but he was adamant about finding you both and made his way to the servant's exit in the larder. I believe he thought to find you there."

"Thank you, Ser Gilmore." She grabbed his arm, squeezing it once. He was a good man; she really hoped he survived, but the odds of that were rapidly dwindling.

He seemed to know that too and her heart constricted slightly at the expression of resignation on his face. "Maker watch over you, milady."

"Maker watch over us all." With that, she turned away and ran as the remnants of her father's men barricaded the doors.

Her father was in the larder. She'd known it would be bad, but…

"Father!"

"Bryce!"

"There…my girls are." He grinned slightly, even covered in his own blood and obviously wounded as he was. "I'm glad…you're alright."

No. Elena felt numb, taking in the injuries with a despaired keening noise she hadn't realized she'd let loose. Udia had taught her how to assess injuries, as had her brother when he could, and that knowledge now came back to haunt her as she took the damage to her father's person in. Fatal, her brain told her even as her heart bled in despair and grief. It pooled behind her eyes, and she didn't even realize it until her father brought up his free hand to caress her face and wipe them away with his thumb.

"Do not cry, my little mabari." So he says as he cries too, she thought with a slight laugh. He hadn't used that moniker for her in a long time. "I've had a good life."

"Howe betrayed us, papa." Mentally, Elena cursed her voice as it cracked and her throat constricted. No, no, no, he can't die. He CAN'T!

But he is, her brain whispered quietly; rationally.

"Yes." He coughed, spitting blood, and her mother came closer and laid a soothing hand to his shoulder. "You must…live, my darling girl. You must seek vengeance upon him for all he has done this night." Looking up, he tensed as he heard footsteps coming, only to relax somewhat. "Ah, Duncan. Thank you."

"Do not thank me." The Grey Warden she'd met earlier shook his head as he stared at her father sadly. "It seems woefully undeserved given the circumstances."

"Take…them away. They must live." He coughed again; harder, this time. "They must survive and avenge this treachery."

"Yes…but I must have you understand. Things are bad enough that I can not leave without a recruit, my friend." Duncan shared a rather pointed look with him, and her father glanced her way briefly before nodding.

"I…understand. So long as she lives to take vengeance on Howe, I will allow it."

"What?" Elena wanted to hit him, but the increasing paleness in his pallor prevented her from doing so. "Didn't you say you wouldn't gladly see both Fergus and I off to fight not a few hours ago?"

"Situation…has changed." He smiled ruefully. "Must live, my darling girl. Tell Fergus…" He grimaced as pain hit him, tears welling in his eyes before he could speak again. "Join the Wardens."

She wanted to fight; to protest, but rationally she understood. Fergus had to know. Oriana, Oren…father. He would never know if none of them survived this night.

Reluctantly, she agreed. "I will, papa." She leaned down and hugged him, as tightly as she could with his injuries, and sobbed once when he turned his head and kissed her cheek. Even under all the blood, he still smelled of wood smoke and Antivan brandy. Both smells had always been a comfort to her; now she doubted she would ever smell them again without thinking of him.

"You must go," her mother said forcefully. "I will stay. You will be faster with just the two of you."

"Eleanor." Even as hurt as he was, Bryce still began protesting.

Of course, mother silenced him with just a look. "Hush Bryce. I'll kill every bastard that comes through that door to buy them time, but I won't abandon you."

"Mother…!" The shattering of the barricade and yelling reached her ears, Duncan hand insistent as he grasped her arm and tugged a little.

"Go, my darling." Her mother ran over to hug her once last time, kissing her other cheek once before shoving her towards Duncan. "I will not leave your father. My place has always been with him." Even Lethallin whined from his silent vigil between her and her parents, only to get a watery smile from her mother. "You too, you troublesome hound. Go. Protect my baby girl."

Lethallin barked once, an affirmative, though with less enthusiasm then was normal.

Elena took in her parents, her heart in her throat, a final time before she stumbled after Duncan. Her last image was of her mother notching an arrow into her bow and of her father bleeding out, his voice whispering in a tone that would haunt her ears for several years to come.

"I'm so sorry, my love…"

A/N: Sigh. I LIKED the Teyrn and Teyrna. Made me sad to see them die the way they did. I'm even unashamed to admit their end scenes always bring tears to my eyes. I was half tempted to tweak it to make them live, but that would make no sense. In some ways, my muse Elena Cousland needed their deaths as a motivator to keep her going. Ah, but her adventures have only begun.

Obviously, I've tweaked the scenes of the game to my desire. Artistic licenses are lovely in indulging me that way. I have a bad memory with lines, so most from the game aren't word for word, but I try.

Dalish Terminology

Aneth Ara: Greeting typically used between Dalish

Da'len: Child

Lethallin: Male form of 'friend' in Dalish. I thought it was cute if that was Elena's hound's name.

Dareth Shiral: Goodbye or Farewell