This story was inspired by Secret Santa story I wrote for KCousland - with Zevran and femCousland. I couldn't stop thinking about their story. Why would a young noble choose the pervy assassin over noble and innocent prince? And the more I was thinking about it, the darker the answer was.

Warning: This is not the 'female version' of Failed to Fail. Don't look for fluff. However one thing will be similar: this won't be fast romance either. If you hope that if it's Zev it will move to hot, steamy parts in the third chapter, you'll be disappointed.

Thanks to my wonderful beta Seika for her help. :)

Prelude: Walk Through The Fire

Bryce and Eleanor Cousland were always such great hosts. Their guests were provided with the greatest possible comfort. The rooms were decorated in a sophisticated elegance that was just above the whims of fashion. Everything felt so comfortable, so natural. Eleanor prided herself on knowing as much about her guests as possible, and always added few details that would make it more personal – bouquets of their favourite flowers, linens in their favourite colour, or a bottle of their favourite drinks. Even if they were supposed to stay only one night. Yes, they were really great hosts.

The best part of it is 'were'.

Rendon Howe smirked and poured more brandy into his glass, and leaned more comfortably in the armchair. Everything seemed so peaceful. Quiet. The thick oak doors and shutters blocked all noise from the outside. One would never guess that this was the most dramatic night in the history of the Couslands. The night when their destinies were changed forever. The night he was waiting for during all those long years, when he had to bow to Bryce and his whore as their vassal.

But tonight, everything changed. They would be soon dead. By his hand; the soldiers had a strict order about that. Fergus would not escape, either. Ostagar was ready. Everyone loyal to that foolish brat of a king would be dead soon. Such a tragedy! Those darkspawn are terrible monsters. A threat for whole Ferelden. In times like these, Ferelden needed a general, a hero who knew how to defend their country, not a naïve king playing to be the king.

After the war, however… generals are not needed any more. The country would need someone who was a capable diplomat, cunning and resourceful. Someone who was decorated for his valour in the war, who proved his loyalty many times. And who was married to the only remaining heir of Cousland line.

Couslands' little spitfire, she was called. He had to admit, she was spirited. Clever. Beautiful. Oh, it would be such pleasure to tame this little shrew. Spitfire, how unfitting for the daughter of the second most powerful noble family in Ferelden. Of the future queen. But there was no need to worry about that. He would personally take care of teaching her proper manners. Give him few weeks and she would be a sweet and obedient little kitten, who will beg him to let her –

There was a knock at the door.

He shot an annoyed look at the lieutenant. The man who dared to step in front of him was covered in blood, and reeking of burned flesh. But he would deal with that later. "Yes, what is it?" he drawled and took another sip of brandy.

"It is done, my Lord," croaked the man, his voice coarse from shouting. And fear.

"And the Couslands?"

The man gulped nervously, bowing even deeper. "We captured them, my Lord, but they put too much resistance. They would not survive if we tried to bring them here. I apologize."

He finished his brandy, mulling it in his mouth with closed eyes. This was it. The moment he so carefully planned. Teyrn Howe. It sounds nice. His Royal Majesty King Rendon will sound even better. Soon. He slowly got up and stretched his back. No need to hurry any more.

"Take me to them."

oOo

Eleanor still looked beautiful. He could still remember what she was like as a young girl. One of the battle maidens of Ferelden. Always so strict, so proud and intelligent. Too intelligent, for a woman. Much like her daughter.

Which he couldn't see anywhere. He frowned and turned to the Lieutenant, trying hard to remain calm, and not run his sword through the fool on the spot. Perhaps she was just held elsewhere. "Where's the girl?"

It was Bryce who replied him. "Gone. You may kill us, but you will never put your dirty hands on my daughter, you traitorous pig," he croaked.

"She escaped with the Grey Warden, my lord," added the Lieutenant quickly. "I have already sent my men after them. I am sure we will have them before the sunrise."

Ah, if this wasn't the best joke ever. "With the Grey Warden? She escaped to Ostagar?" He burst into the laughter. His soldiers took a step back. Fools. But Bryce glared at him with pure hate. He had never seen such hate in anyone's eyes. Besides when he looked into the mirror.

"Oh, Bryce. You have always been such a fool. Do you not you regret your choice now, Eleanor?"

She spat at him. How amusing. "Well, I think it is time to end this. But I would loath for you to die without knowing the fate of your dear children. Fergus will be another victim of the bestiality of the darkspawn. You do not need to worry about Claire, however. I promise you, I will take a good care of her and show her all my love and compassion."

"You -!" Bryce tried to pull himself up, but the hard kick from the guard brought him down again.

"Pull him to his knees so he can watch," he ordered coldly. "Watch, Bryce. Watch very carefully." He pulled out his sword and smiled at Eleanor.

It was a clean hit, straight into the heart. She didn't even have time to gasp. Bryce, on the other hand, would not be so lucky.

"I do hope you enjoyed the show," he said politely. "I would kill you too, but I see you are already dead. No need to lose my time with you." He turned to the soldier, a young bloke that was terribly pale and looked as if he was going to be sick. He better restrain himself until I'm gone. "Tie him up so he stands on his knees and let him mourn and weep for his wife. And let him watch the pyre for his grandson. It would be cruel of me if I didn't allow him that much."

The look at the Bryce's face improved his mood immediately. "Lieutenant. Are there any survivors?"

"Only a few elven servants, my Lord. Most of them resisted and we had to kill them. I am very sorry, my Lord."

He laughed. "Pick two pretty ones… a man and a woman. Have them brought to my chambers as soon as possible," he ordered. "You may have fun with the others, if you wish, but do take care to kill them when you finish. Burn the bodies."

The man's eyes widened for a second, but then he nodded and started barking orders at the soldiers. I must remember to replace this fool later. But unpleasant tasks could wait a bit longer. Now was the time to celebrate. He was the Teyrn of Highever.

Life is beautiful.