Her parries were automatic her thrusts almost involuntary. Her body seemed to move without the involvement of her mind- the result of hours of drills and sparring. Yet it wasn't the same, she realized as she sunk her sword into the belly of the man she was fighting. First through the armor. Then a slight elastic resistance- she could feel the skin give way and then flesh and then the squelch of soft organs as her weapon invaded the man's abdomen and shredded his insides. Disgusted she withdrew the blade quickly, a spew of blood and pinkish slop followed. The man gurgled sickeningly and fell to the ground, his guts slid out of the wound and onto the stone at her feet. The stench was unbelievable. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
This is what it feels like to kill someone.
She wanted to vomit, wanted to drop her weapon, curl up on the floor and just cease being. But she didn't. The next soldier was advancing on her. She gripped her dagger tight.
"…The stars are not wanted now; put out every one
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can come to any good . "
- Funeral Blues by WH Auden
The sun was at its peak when the travellers arrived at Ostagar. The camp was bustling with people and activity, the colourful tents surrounding them in contrast to the grey ruins. Laughter and music rang through the air, echoing against the cold stone, now and again, the bellow of merchants advertising their wares rose above the din.
One of the travellers, Emery Cousland, seethed internally. The atmosphere of the camp mocked her dark mood. As they made their way through the tents and people, she noticed a few familiar faces, but with her hood up, and her eyes low, she avoided being recognized. If she had spent more time at court she might've known more of the faces assembled.
Court seemed like a distant world now. In the past, she'd mostly dreaded spending any time in Denerim. She had grown up far from the sophistication of the capital and as a result had always felt out of place when she visited there. She'd been resentful and envious of the cosmopolitan ladies in Denerim's court whose silk dresses and elegant demeanour made her feel common as mud.
But how she had changed. In one night her view of herself and the world had shifted. Fretting over fashion and suitors seemed ridiculous, now. Her home was gone, her family were dead.
Scarcely three weeks ago she had been woken by the sounds of screams and smell of smoke. Emery had raced to her parent's room and found her mother, still in bed, struck through the chest. Eleanor Cousland's face was frozen in a look of surprise.
It had been then that Duncan had burst in and, grabbing her by the shoulders, had brought her to her feet. He forced a dagger into her grip and she'd followed him onward.
They found her father in the main hall, as he lay bleeding onto the stones. There, in his final moments, in return for Duncan delivering Emery to safety, he had pledged her to the Grey Wardens. His final act was weakly passing his sword to her.
Duncan had spoken little to her on the journey. She was not inclined toward conversation anyhow. The little he told her, was of their destination. Ferelden wardens were gathering in Ostagar where a section of ruins had collapsed and opened an entrance to the Deep Roads. King Cailan along with most of his court seemed to view it as an opportunity for sport and so had traipsed there too.
After weeks of hard travel with little in the way of comforts or conversation, finally, Emery and Duncan had arrived, travel-worn and caked in mud.
One priority had stayed clear in her mind since they'd left Highever. Over and over she repeated in her head that she was not alone. A month earlier her brother Fergus had travelled to Denerim with a chaperone to attend the Harvest festival. Fergus Cousland was fifteen and already enraptured with life at court. Emery was sure he would have found a way to convince Ser Berach, his chaperone and a knight employed by her family, to have taken a detour on the way back to Highever and come to Ostagar with the rest of the nobility.
She reached Duncan and fell in step behind him, unsure of how to broach the subject of searching for her brother in the camp. As usual, it seemed he barely took notice of her presence. How she hated him. He had wrangled an oath from her dying father and in exchange for her life she was passed to the wardens like cattle. They had travelled far together since leaving Highever and during that time disgust for the Warden Commander had smoothly transitioned to hatred. He had been stoic and reserved in her company- never saying more or less than was needed. Even if his silence was borne from tact and respect for her grief, it had only allowed her time and isolation to fan the flames of her hate into a raging bonfire.
But however she felt about the man, propriety had been set in her bone-deep since infancy. Let no-one say that Emery Cousland was surly.
"Ser Duncan," she said, halting their progress, "I believe Fergus may be camped here, I think I should begin searching for him now". Duncan turned to her, he'd long given up on telling her he was not a 'ser'.
"In time," He said calmly, grasping her shoulder firmly, preventing her from moving "Right now we must find the Wardens. I'll give you leave to search for your brother as soon as I'm able". Emery fumed behind a mask of civility.
"Of course. I am at your disposable" she said blankly. Duncan frowned before sighing and continuing on. In truth, he did not know how best to deal with her. He'd left her to her grief during their journey hoping she would be able to work through some of it. Instead, she'd been growing increasingly distant, retreating into politeness and propriety.
Emery was the first woman he had ever had under his command, and so young too. It was not uncommon for Grey Wardens to be conscripted through tragic circumstances but he had no idea where or how to begin to console her over the loss of her family. Though she had not tarried or complained during their travels something about her called for a delicacy he was not accustomed to.
The Grey Wardens camp was nestled in a corner of the ruins under the shadow of a broken tower, secluded from the cacophony of activity. Threadbare bedrolls were haphazardly arranged around a modest fire where of a dozen or so men conversed quietly.
"Duncan," said a dark-skinned elf, getting up "Finally, you've returned. Who is this?" he asked, looking at Emery with huge green eyes. His was hair short and dark, and his skin nut brown and unlined, making it impossible to tell his age. And, though faded, Emery noticed silvery tattoos traced over his features, elaborate and utterly foreign.
"This is the new recruit, Lady Emery Cousland of Highever." The elf appeared surprised, he and Duncan shared an anxious look,"There was an unexpected change of plan" Duncan said.
"Very well" the elf replied in a measured tone.
"My Lady" Duncan said, turning to her. "This is Airard, my lieutenant"
"Good to meet you Lieutenant Airard," Emery said primly. To her irritation, a ghost of a smile twitched on the elf's lips. He found her amusing.
"And you too, My Lady"
"Airard," Duncan said, turning to the elf again, "Lady Emery believes her brother is in the noble's camp and has a need to find him. The search will go quicker with your help, I hope. But before that see to it that she rests and gets something to eat" Airard nodded dutifully and Duncan left without a word or a glance at Emery.
The Grey Wardens grew quiet as Airard gestured Emery an empty space among them. As she sunk down, she suppressed a groan, three weeks of riding had made her stiff in the most uncomfortable places. Airard sat down next to her and began ladling stew out of a pot, chattering ceaselessly about the weather as if unaware of the rest of the wardens silently staring at Emery. They were all men, and all had a rough, battle-weary look about them. She wondered at all the horrible things they had seen and killed and shivered with fear. She had only ever heard tales of darkspawn. Their faces were solemn but not unkind, but Emery cast her gaze down to the floor and accepted her bowl mutely. After a while, their conversation quietly started up again, with even Airard joining in. She absently tried to follow what they were saying but was soon lost.
The food was not unpleasant but Emery found she couldn't finish her helping. The warden's conversation had fallen into a relaxing cadence. She stared into the fire and her eyes began to droop. Unbidden, memories returned of her father telling tales at the hearth in Highever's hall. All the keep's children usually found their way there too as her father told them all stories of the fearsome Grey Wardens, solemnly charging into battle on shining white griffons…
She dreamed of home. The castle was oppressively silent and blood pooled between the stone at her feet.
Wiry hands shook Emery awake and her eyes opened to Airard's face. She found herself still in her hunting leathers and weighted down by a ludicrous amount of blankets. She scowled as she tried to kick herself free of them.
"Ah, yes" Airard, laughed "it seems chivalry is not dead or at the very least the image of you passed out in your stew inspired pity amongst the men". As she sat up on the bedroll the elf's eyes were upon her and twinkled with amusement. It seemed he had a permanent smirk attached to his face that suggested he was the only one party to some great secret or joke.
"Where are the wardens?" she asked noticing the camp was empty save them,
"They're with the mages at the rift, although they should be returning shortly" Airard answered and handed her a corner of dry bread and some cheese. Emery's stomach growled and she quickly began devouring her meagre breakfast.
"There are mages here? Why?" she asked between bites. Mages…she wondered at that. She had never met a trained mage before.
"It was Duncan's idea; he hopes they will repair the chasm once it has been purged of darkspawn. He sent some wardens to the Circle tower to request aid before he left for Highever. They arrived last night". The food turned to ash in Emery's mouth at the mention of her home. She swallowed and got up.
"Forgive me, Lieutenant. I have wasted enough time resting, I must find my brother now- with or without your assistance" She started to move but Airard stepped in front of her blocking her path. He laughed lightly.
"No need, my Lady. Your brother's attendants have found you . Duncan reported to the King yesterday and word reached your brother that you were at our camp. He sent a servant last night but we refused to wake you. You seemed too much in need of rest." Emery sagged with relief,
"Thank you, although I wish you'd woken me earlier. Please…where is he?"
"Of course, but first, uh, you may, want to find a place to bathe. You're travels have been long"
"Oh, yes of course," Emery said, suddenly extremely aware of her bedraggled appearance.
Airard helped Emery gather her belongings; her father's sword was wrapped in rags and strapped securely to her pack. The weight of it on her back set a lump in her throat.
Airard and Emery saw to a last-minute tidying-up and were about to head off when a group of returning wardens entered the camp, deep in conversation. Most of them Emery recognized from the day before but there were a few that she knew had not been at camp with her. One, in particular, seemed younger than the rest of the wardens. He was tall and clad in splint mail that appeared to have seen far fewer patch-jobs and beatings than the other wardens. Suddenly they all burst into laughter, from the young warden's blush, the joke was appeared to have been at his expense.
Emery and Airard walked up to meet the group.
"Alistair," he said, and laughed, "Glad to see you returned from The Circle intact. When you left you were sure they would turn you into a toad". The wardens snickered and Alistair seemed to notice Emery at Airard's side,
" This is the new recruit," he said incredulously, "Hhargrin, you didn't mention it's a girl!" The man at Alistair's side bellowed with laughter. He was humongous and had a fearsome scar that zigzagged over his bald head and down through his eyebrow.
"It was hard to tell under all the mud," said the large warden. They roared with laughter. To Airard's credit, all he did was crack a sharp smile. Emery felt her face grow hot. So much for the solemn warriors she'd seen the day before.
" Could be worse…" Hhargrin added, "'least she's not a mage!"
"I am standing right here, Hhargrin" said a robed man in the group with mock indignation. Everyone laughed again.
"Don't worry Levreth," Alistair said, "You're the exception and I'd take a mage over a noble any day of the week. Can you imagine?" Alistair laughed, "We wouldn't get a moments rest from, 'my daddy freed you lowly peasants from foreign rule' or 'why yes, this is Orlesian silk'. Bunch of complete ponces".
"Excuse me, Ser? Be aware of the company you're in and watch your tone" Emery said, pouring in every ounce of indignation and authority she could muster.
"Oh yes, sure, My Lady" Alistair laughed, and Emery realized he thought she was being funny "If you're a high-born I must be the king of Ferelden!". The other wardens clearly knew who Emery was, conspiratorial smiles and silent laughter seemed to have overtaken them.
No-one noticed Duncan and an elderly elven woman approach.
"Ah, Alistair," he said, momentarily startling everyone at his presence "I see you've met our newest recruit, Lady Emery". The elf women, a servant, curtsied,
"My Lady," she said meekly. Alistair looked confused for a moment and then gaped at Emery in disbelief,
"Wait...you?".
"Well…" said Airard jovially.
"I take it I missed something" Duncan interjected, Airard just shrugged with a smile and Duncan sighed.
"Alright, off with you lot now, "Airard bellowed at the wardens, mood turning "you've had your fun. No doubt you've all got something more important to do- unless you'd like to run some drills with me?" at that the wardens quickly dispersed. Alistair stayed behind and approached Airard and Emery but before he could speak Airard raised his hand and stopped him,
"You too lad." Alistair turned tail and stalked dejectedly away. Emery stared at his back as he left, the corners of her mouth quirked in irritation.
"Lady Emery" Duncan queried, breaking her out of her reverie, "This is Obrinthe, a serving-women in your brother's employ". The matronly elf curtsied. She might have been the oldest elf Emery had ever seen. Her hair was a steely grey and her face lined with many years. Unlike Airard, she had no tattoos to speak of.
"My Lady," she said "A tent has been set for you, with some clothes and uh," her eyes gave Emery's bedraggled appearance a once-over, " A fresh bath."
"Thank-you," said Emery properly, trying to scrape together some dignity, "You may take me there now". Emery followed Obrinthe and to her consternation so did Airard and Duncan. As if sensing her confusion,
"I too wish to meet with your brother, But don't worry, take your time getting ready" Duncan offered, "In the meantime, Airard and I have much to discuss"
They had erected Emery a tent on the outskirts of the main camp, thankfully away from most of the bustle. Obrinthe held the flap aside for Emery. She paused at the entrance and remembering her manners turned to Obrinthe.
"Perhaps you can organize some refreshments for the wardens while I take my bath" Obrinthe nodded,
"Of course My Lady"
"Thank you, very good". With a nod to Airard and Duncan, she disappeared and secured the flap behind her.
The tent was cool and dim inside. Emery realized she was alone for the first time since Highever, and let out a shaky breath. There were only a few furnishings but in the centre of the tent was a massive tub steaming with clear water and a table full of sponges and soaps, Emery bit back a sigh of relief and began fervently stripping off her hunting leather s. They had only ever camped in the wilderness on her journey from Highever which had meant bathing was limited to cold streams and lakes.
She sank into the tub with a breathy exhale and closed her eyes, trying not to think.
It occurred to her that in the excitement of the morning she'd barely even thought about her parents. Now that she was alone, however, the black weight on her heart seemed to have returned and was even heavier before. It was because of Fergus she realized. She wondered if anyone had told him. Perhaps news had reached him before she'd even arrived.
She imagined Fergus hobbled by grief, eyes red with crying- he was so young, even for fifteen. She would not be able to bear it- seeing him in that state. Thus far she'd kept up appearances, leaning on silence and stoicism in the face of her loss. It was easier, she thought. If she broke, she didn't know if she would be able to keep herself from coming entirely apart. It was if a yawning emptiness had awoken inside of her that sucked the potency and life out of every emotion she felt. She swallowed the lump in her throat and sank lower into the tub feeling as if she would never be happy again.
The tent flap opened letting in a shaft of light as well as Obrinthe, the old elf.
"My lady" she tsked, as she saw Emery, "Baths are for washing not lazing". Emery smiled sadly as Obrinthe secured the tent flap and was immediately reminded of Nan, a servant at Highever – she too had been meek and polite in public and then clucked and hissed like a mother hen behind closed doors. Nan, who was dead- like almost everyone that had become as essential to her home as the stones and mortar.
"Up you get young one," Obrinthe said, gesturing impatiently. She grabbed a scrub brush and looked at Emery expectantly. Emery realized the woman intended to scrub her down personally.
"Madam" Emery began, humiliated, "There is no need for you to do that. I assure you I can wash myself!"
"Hush" Obrinthe, interjected kindly, "I meant no offence. I saw how you were looking when I came in and I… I heard those wardens talking about what happened to your people. So I'll be begging your pardon but the state you must be in, I wouldn't trust you to fasten your own boots".
For the first time, Emery felt as if she might cry. Obrinthe seemed to be busying inspecting the soaps and scented oils while she waited for her charge to collect herself. Sighing dejectedly Emery stood up in the bath, submitting to Obrinthe's plans.
However fragile the elf believed Emery to be in spirit she had no such illusions about her physical condition. The woman scrubbed her pink and raw. When she saw the water had turned murky she ordered her to get out and wait. Emery stood in the nude dripping and shivering as Obrinthe disappeared and brought in several unknown elf women who cleared away the tub and shortly after returned with one freshly filled with water.
Besides the rare instruction Obrinthe and her helpers seemed to treat Emery like a piece of furniture- not even a curtsy or the perfunctory "my lady" escaped any of them. Emery felt strangely put at ease by their behaviour and offered them the same indifference.
As the time passed Emery's thoughts drifted into oblivion and the world around her disappeared. When Obrinthe began to wash her hair Emery didn't even notice fat tears slowly trailing down her own cheeks. Finally, when the girl could get no cleaner the elf swaddled her in linens and towels, sat her down on a stool and began to run a comb through the length of Emery's long hair.
Then the old elf spoke for the first time in what seemed like hours,
"Now My Lady," she said, breaking the spell"Which style do you like best?" Emery, coming back to herself, answered in a voice cracked voice,
"Usually the old Ferelden styles,"
"Ah, traditional, then?" approved Obrinthe, as she began to deftly separate Emery's locks, "I am glad- Those Orlesian fashions are bit much for my tastes – and for my old fingers". Emery sighed as Obrinthe massaged oil into her scalp and hair,
"I worried for my brother in Denerim, you know," said Emery wondering at the old elf, "but it seems like there was no need. I am glad he found you. Although, that he would take on a lady's maid is bit…unusual". Obrinthe laughed,
"It was I who found the young lord and begged for a job as a serving woman. I'm not a lady's maid". Emery was genuinely shocked,
"Well, I suggest a change in career," she said.
"Ah, "said Obrinthe smiling wanly, "I should have said that I was once a lady's maid- but haven't been for many years. Unfortunately for me, Denerim's ladies like their maids how they like their dresses- unwrinkled and fashionable".
Emery scoffed in derision,
"Just another reason to be glad that I have never lived at court." she trailed off. Obrinthe stiffened imperceptibly at Emery's words.
"But, surely such a luxurious life would be wonderful?" Obrinthe asked carefully, her voice light,
"I suppose I've always thought they were beautiful, but…" she sat up straighter and tried to find the right words to explain, " My father used to tell me that having money and authority is more than a privilege- it's a responsibility, that people who have power are held to a higher standard of honour and duty"
"Sounds like a wise man" nodded Obrinthe.
"He was," said Emery in a brittle voice.
Obrinthe attached the last of the pins to Emery hair and helped her into loose pants and a long, a deep blue tunic. She belted the garment at the waist and presented her with new leather boots. Emery was faint with relief that she had not been asked to wear a dress.
Obrinthe solemnly returned to Emery the dagger she had been carrying since Duncan gave it to her at Highever. She stuck it in her belt and the elf looked her over and nodded in approval.
She was rather pleased with her handiwork. Emery's dark hair gleamed in its coiled plaits and the colour of the tunic set off her pale complexion and brought out the blue in her large grey eyes. The girl was not beautiful, at least in any obvious or girlish way, there was something too heavy and serious in her expression, as if behind her eyes thoughts and considerations of significance were taking place.
"Very well, My Lady. I think it's about time you see your brother"
Emery agreed. She felt more like herself than she had in ages.
"Obrinthe, "Emery began, "How can I thank you for today and, I suspect, caring for my brother and keeping him out of trouble? "The elf seemed genuinely surprised at her gratitude and even a little embarrassed. Emery waved her refusals off- she would find some way to repay her or at least to show that her actions were greatly appreciated.
As they exited the tent, she was greeted by the sight of a now familiar grey warden. Emery rolled her eyes.
"Well, if it isn't the King of Ferelden," she said icily, "Please excuse me while I curtsy. Oh, wait…" Alistair laughed nervously,
"I might've deserved that, uh, My Lady?" Emery stared at him coldly. Obrinthe discreetly excused herself to and fetch Duncan and Airard from the Grey Warden camp.
"But truly," Alistair cleared his throat after she had disappeared, "I apologize". Emery waved him off dismissively before sighing and letting her stern expression drop to reveal one of exhaustion,
"Say no more of it" she shrugged, "…And there might be some truth to your words. Although, understand, not all high-borns are 'complete ponces' just as I am sure not all wardens are blundering idiots" she pointedly looked at him as she said this.
"Mm. Harsh, although I might've deserved that. Consider me sufficiently reprimanded" He grinned lopsidedly at her before clearing his throat awkwardly and contemplating his boots.
They waited in an uncomfortable silence until Obrinthe arrived back with Duncan and Airard. Alistair made a speedy exit as soon as they appeared.
Obrinthe led Emery and the Wardens through the camp. Airard subtly fell back to join Emery,
" Your Ladyship" he whispered,
" Yes, Lieutenant"
" You seem better," he said,
" Thank you, I guess," Emery said lamely. They continued a few steps in an awkward silence. Airard seemed restless.
" Lieutenant, was there something you wanted to ask me-?"
" Ah yes," said Airard quickly, " I grew up with the Dalish and I don't spend a lot of time with high-born folk, so I'm not familiar with the nuances of your culture but…". Airard trailed off but Emery had an inkling where this was going.
" You think I am offended by-"
" Truly, Alistair didn't mean anything by what he said." Airard interrupted quickly, " He's not always as, uh, thoughtful, as he should be and most of what he says is in jest- but he's a good man".
" Don't worry Airard, I've already accepted his apology." She smiled thinly, " besides I am more thick-skinned than I look". Airard blew out a sigh of relief and his familiar grin crept back on his face,
" That is definitely a good thing. As the most junior of the wardens I suspect you too will be forced to spend a lot of time together,"
" Ah, something to look forward to then," she said dryly and Airard laughed.
They crested the hill upon which Fergus camped. Emery still didn't know whether her brother had been informed of the tragedy at Highever- either way, she looked to the upcoming meeting with trepidation. The sun had begun to set and the land was bathed in a warm orange glow. Obrinthe held the flap open and Emery took a deep breath before entering her brother's tent.
Please review! :)