Preparing for an outing with his grandsons made Angus feel anxious and far tenser than he should for simply awaiting them to organize their mounts. Thankfully, he was a patient man and he knew it would work itself out eventually so never really intervened. The bickering, snide comments and petty jabs that seemed to occur only when the three strapping lads were within thirty feet of each other – on the extremely rare occasion that they allowed this to happen – would end… Eventually. For now, all he could do was watch them with a kind smile and contented eyes, for how many 64 year old men could say that they lived to see most of their grandchildren into their twenties? Not many, in this day and age.

A blissfully warm day like this reminded Angus of his youth. Running barefoot through the town with his betrothed as they spent another endless summer together. Hands locked as they raced passed the busyness of town and to the outskirts of Starkhaven, the wondrous forests that awaited them. The smell of the bakery long behind them as they welcomed smells of pine, grass, soil, nature. Sweet afternoons spent familiarizing themselves with the land they would one day come to rule, befriending it – falling in love with it just as much as they had with each other.

Though those days were long gone, his beloved too frail to leave the castle too often he still held fast to the memories and the importance of getting out of the city and appreciating what their wonderful land had to offer.

He waited, leaning against the wooden fencing of the stables for his grandsons.

Ethan, the middle child at 21 was first, ten minutes early. So proper, so royal was Ethan. The role and duties of a Prince suited him, probably the first Vael it had in many generations. It often felt like a suit you had to swear your entire life that didn't quite fit right, was a little bit tight around the collar – constricting, not quite suffocating. All these… Unnecessary embellishments, making you the most noticeable person in the room, unwanted attention. Possibly the worst part in Angus' opinion, the sleeves were just a little bit too short. Your ankles and wrists showing a little more than they should, no way to hide these things – bare for all to see, to criticise and judge. Ethan wore the suit well and looked fabulous in it. He was tall and lean, his dark hair tied back into a small ponytail at the base of his neck with careless curls falling down his narrow, regal face. With his tan skin and dark, dark eyes he had become quite popular with maidens throughout Starkhaven and beyond, his fluid words and movements on and off the dance floor made him something of a marvel among the nobles of court.

Braedan was next, right on time, the heir to Starkhaven's throne. Brown, messy hair with the slightest twinges of auburn that ran through it, only really showing itself when a particular kind of light shone on it. This morning's light was that light. He was a kind lad with soft blue eyes and a chiselled, stubbled jaw that had been hardened with all the responsibilities that came with being the heir, a mere 26. He had just married and there was already talk of children around the castle, Angus often found himself taking his eldest grandson to the side and reminding him that there was no need to rush, no need to panic. Although he was never quite sure that these little heartfelt messages got through to him, as he seemed as disgruntled and moody as always. Braedan would rather be hunting, or training, or simply relaxing than having to deal with diplomats and endless meeting he would have to sit in on and constantly being reminded of his duties. Yet, it always seemed that the people who don't want the power are the ones who are the best to be trusted with it.

He waited as the two young men readied themselves for a brisk early morning ride; unfortunately things went downhill faster than Angus had anticipated.

"You're going to crack the poor creatures' ribs if you strap that thing on any tighter." Ethan chided his older brother, leaning against his own chestnut mare staring at his elder struggle to operate the dreaded complexities of the saddle with a rather smug little grin, one that seemed to be a permanent feature.

"Please kindly sod off you pompous prat." Braedan said through gritted teeth, tugging at the godforsaken strap which was causing him so much bother.

"Oh-ho! That is no way for royalty to speak, now is it, brother?" Ethan strode over the cobbled floor of the courtyard towards the larger man, his heeled leather knee boots clipping on the rough stone. "Allow me?" Putting a hand on his back the younger of the two grinned, feeling a great deal of satisfaction from one of the few areas in which his brother lacked. Stopping Braedan stood upright, glaring at the lean man. Ethan wasn't as muscular as either of his brothers, the eldest being a trained warrior and Sebastian having defined archers arms Ethan had always preferred tactics over physical altercations.

Braedan was dressed in casual clothing, whilst made with fine materials and slightly embroidered here and there the outfit was well worn. The tight black trousers with a free fitting white shirt atop, slight accents of gold around the cuffs. Ethan always donned the finest of his wardrobe for every occasion, a wardrobe which always seemed to have new pieces added every week. The middle child had not inherited the minimalistic nature of his grandparents like his older brother had.

One large, frustrated sigh through his nose and he indignantly handed the strap to him and stalked away. "Oh where is little 'Bastian at a time like this? I dare say he would enjoy the sight of you scurrying away with your tail between your legs even more so than I." Ethan smiled to himself as he corrected the mistakes made by Braedan.

Yes… Angus thought to himself, glancing towards the castles' entrance to the courtyard. Where is the boy?

"I am not-" Braedan began, turning around in a flurry of furious flailing arms.

"But oh the great and indomitable Prince of Starkhaven was no match for the mighty saddle!" Ethan continued in a theatrical voice which he knew infuriated his brother. "The intricacy of each buckle and strap simply too much for his small mind to comprehend…" Done with the horse the man clad in his finest horse-riding gear leapt from his brothers reach as he tried to grab him. "Luckily for the heir, the spare was as intelligent as he was handsome." At the sight of his middle grandson bowing Angus chuckled, enjoying the sight of his beloved ones being able to relax and just be brothers. "Ah, and to complete the set – the Pawn!"

Sebastian halted at the entrance to the courtyard, glaring at his brother before heading towards his own black mare. "Your lack of wit never fails to amaze me, Ethan." The youngest drawled out, clearly already having had a goblet of wine this morning. Angus sighed, the junior grandson was… Well, something.

When he was younger he held so much promise, so eager to learn, to become a part of Starkhaven's legacy, to do good. Memories passed through Angus' mind as he stared at the boy, 19, as he arranged his horse. Sebastian looked troubled, staring down at the saddle with his usual discontented frown. He barely ever bothered to attend his archery lessons any longer, what more could I learn? I'm already the best. He would say to his grandfather who wouldn't protest, wouldn't demand he stay… Maybe he should have been more firm but he did not want to force his grandson into learning, especially what he really needed to learn wasn't how to fire an arrow – but some humility.

Sebastian was not the most graceful of his brothers, the most handsome, or charming. He lacked the drive of Ethan, the humble nature of Braedan.

"Don't be bitter little, bitty brother." Ethan smirked, Angus and his eldest grandson shot each other a knowing look – these two had it out more than was natural for brothers of their age, it was a common thing for them to have extremely heated arguments and it seemed they could both sense one brewing. "The Pawn is just as vital as say, the King, Queen or Knight…" The tall, slender man approached Sebastian whose usually bright eyes and cheerful face had darkened into a deep set jealousy that he no longer tried to hide. "You shall be shipped off to marry some duke's daughter to strengthen Starkhaven's alliances whilst Brae rules the country and I the armies." Slipping an arm around his brother's broad shoulders he chuckled, ignoring the tension built up there. "Grandfather has invited us out horse riding on such a fine day as this – try not to ruin it."

Sebastian closed his eyes as he clenched his fists, trying to recall the young chambermaid's sweet words of reassurance from this morning through the haze of hatred, rage and bitterness. She was entangled in his bed sheets as he dressed for the day, he mustn't have tried to hide his dread for the outing as she had picked up on it fairly quickly. She said things that every girl that had tried to reach out to him had, had tried to nurture his bitter soul, tame him. Things that had little effect on him once he realised that they were simply untrue, sweet and kind hearted, but untrue all the same.

Dark raven hair and pale skin with a face so… Eyes like… He tried to pick up his mood by recounting the beautiful girl in his mind but, somewhat failed to. Yes, he remembered her being beautiful, of course but… "Bloody hell, what did she look like?" Rubbing his chin as he opened his eyes and cast his gaze towards his bedroom window, where he had been not ten minutes ago.

"What?" Ethan asked, sounding slightly irritated. He had apparently been in the middle of one of his overdramatic monologues and felt slightly perturbed that Sebastian had not been paying attention.

"Hm? Oh, nothing brother." Shoving his elder off him with more force than necessary he continued readying his mare. "Just trying to recall the name of the girl I slept with last night." His back to his brother he smirked as he buckled the saddle onto his mare, not bothering to stifle his chuckle as he heard the eruption of spluttering from behind. Turning his head to look at Ethan from over his shoulder, a wry smirk in place. "Something the matter, brother?"

Angus shook his head, Sebastian could be so sly when the need presented itself. Ethan was very proper and did not approve of his younger brothers dalliances with countless women.

"Right, shall we head off then?" Angus smiled.

The natural rustle of the wildlife that roamed this area surrounded them, engulfing their senses. Countless birds chirping endlessly around them in lively chatter, flapping of young healthy wings, the scurrying of small mammals thundering their small paws away from the four men on mounts. The sunlight shone through the trees giving a sense of tranquillity to the forest that Angus had come to truly appreciate in his golden years, and something he wished to share with his grandsons. During his term as Prince he was far too busy with his duties or dealing with other people's messes to come and enjoy the bountiful land that he ruled.

Sebastian twitched and shuddered every so often, the incessant twittering of the creatures pecking away at his brain, the headache he was currently sporting suffering all the more for it. One large hand shading his poor, tired eyes from the sunlight.

Was it always that bright? He wondered sourly, barely paying attention to where his mare was headed. He hadn't gotten much sleep that night, smothering his worries into a voluptuous bosom, elegant legs and a silky stomach. A curved smile was brought to his lips as he recalled the night they shared… Only, he couldn't quite recall it at all. Maker, I didn't drink that much wine. Taking his hand from his eyes he looked up amidst the leaves, streaks of light shimmering down upon the backs of their mounts – his mouth fell agape as he stared at the quivering leaves being moved by the small breeze.

Suddenly, the sounds of birds didn't sound as irritating as they had before. Soothing, cheerful little tunes tickled his ears and he couldn't help but give a small smile as he noticed a squirrel scurry up a nearby tree, pause to stare at the men and then continue clambering up to the safe canopy.

They had rode in silence once they entered the forest, just as Angus had suspected they would. Giving a quick look over his shoulder he smiled as he saw the strapping young men stare in awe at the vast wonderland around them. Heaving a silent sigh he marvelled at the regal, devoted young men that rode in his stead, his grandsons that were surely destined for greatness.

"Sodding, buggering, shitting hell." The girl muttered random cursing's to herself, short, thick locks of blonde hair falling down her face as she poured over the map, no matter how many times she shoved them back behind her ears they managed to tumble back forward. She had tried to find a map of this place that wasn't completely overrun with golden illustrations on each corner; ridiculous looped writing to name every pass, town and bloody tree stump, made of the heavy, thick parchment and cost her an arm, a kidney and her soul.

But, if I hadn't bought this overpriced piece of crap – where would I be now? She tried to be optimistic, she really did. Probably in a tavern, getting directions from the locals and using my coin to buy food… The blonde thought miserably as she stared at the map, not truly reading it anymore. For what is the point in knowing where Willow creek Valley, stupid fucking name, is if I don't know where the fuck I am now?!

The forest was pleasant enough this time of day, birds chirping was a nice distraction from the unholy constant chattering of the city. Usually, Ren had no problem navigating these places – there were tell-tale signs of which way to go, by the kind of people you saw heading in each direction, what state the footpath was in, nearby smells – the usual. But Starkhaven, oh no, Starkhaven was different to every other city, town, country in Thedas. There apparently were no lower classes in this place, they were all nobles. Unless the working and lower class were forced to live underground like dwarves or something – she had not seen a set of drunkards or gossiping fishwives or a rag-tag gang of kids at all. Orlesians, Orlesians, Orlesians, bloody everywhere! Maybe having lived in Ferelden for a small part of her life had instilled some sort of hatred for their… Excess.

Even their accent was just all… Too much.

Sighing she shoved the map into her satchel, intentionally crushing it. Turning she leant on a nearby tree and let herself slide down its rough bark until she hit the ground. "I hate this place." She decided, bringing her knees right up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, quite content to sleep the day away in this position.

"A'right daaarlin'?!" Or, she would have been.

Dragging her head up she looked at what apparently was the entire populace of the working class tottering drunkenly towards her. Where the hell did they find a tavern? She glared at the group of men as they reached her, all leering at her like she was a piece of meat.

The first thing that struck Ren about these men was the smell, hideous stink of sweat, general body odour – it was almost as strong as the stench of alcohol off them. Mismatching pieces of armour and some had no shoes at all on or just one – this had clearly been a busy afternoon for these gentlemen.

"Fa-hic-hancy a tuh-umble, sweetie-pie?" The supposed leader of the group asked, crouching down in front of her. "There's ple-henty for yo-ou to choose from…" He swayed in front of her, curling a brutish hand around her neck. Oh, she was used to this game. If she played her cards right then it could be over pretty sharpish.

The thing with this particular spitfire of a girl was that she had a horrifically low tolerance for anyone threatening her, touching her, invading her personal space – a horrifically low tolerance for people in general, as a matter of fact, and if Ren had any friends to speak of they could tell you that what he just did was him essentially signing his own death certificate.

Almost growling she shoved him backwards to the feet of his fellows. He tilted from side to side for a moment, like a turtle caught on its back, but his friends soon got him to his feet – then he lunged for her, picking her up by the arms and slamming her against the thick tree she had been leaning against.

"Who d-do you think you are? Thi-hink you're too good for me, huh!?" His mouth was so close to hers she could practically taste the ale from his hot breath, suddenly very glad she hadn't happened upon that very tavern – dwarven ale wasn't a favourite of hers. Rolling her eyes she wasted no time in lifting her legs up and kicking hard against his chest, sending him hurtling back into his friends. Landing back on her feet she took the daggers that hung from her hips and smirked at the men.

"I'm giving you one chance to run." She said, standing tall, pointing one dagger towards the group and the other in the hand she had against her hip. This seemed to tickle the men as they bent over laughing.

A wicked smirk spread across her face and she lunged, slicing the first man's throat with ease.

It hadn't been an incredibly tough fight, them all being rather intoxicated it was almost unfair, she supposed. Almost. Anyone that was willing to force themselves onto a person didn't deserve to live, in Ren's book.

The last of them, the leader, was tougher than she had thought he would be – even when drunk he moved like a bull seeing red. Meaty fists pounding into her stomach as he caught her in an awkward angle on the ground, her vision went blurry and she felt vomit rise in her chest, she could barely hear him roar in rage as he hit her continuously. He paused, dragging her to her feet and threw her towards a nearby oak. Her back got the worst of that one, she was going to be more than tender tomorrow if she didn't find a healer.

Steadying herself she looked up, he was pacing back and forth – readying himself to attack again.

He wouldn't get that chance.

Standing up despite her wooziness, she charged, leapt and sliced, stabbed, gouged. He fell with a solid thud to the ground, a cold hard sound that meant he wasn't getting back up again. Leaning on top of him she regained her breath. Her body ached already, not even the amount of adrenalin that was pumping through her enough to numb it. She gasped for air, her breaths loud and raspy. Sweat dripped down her nose and onto his dead, distorted lifeless face.

She smiled.

I win.

The first time Ren killed a person she was left with a chill, emptiness within her like something had been ripped from her soul – innocence, purity. She had regretted that first kill tremendously so… Yet after years of running, constantly running, being betrayed and backstabbed, misplacing trust and being oh so naive she had learned one simple rule.

It was either them or her, and she would fight till her last breath for her freedom.

Suddenly more noise, people, horses – oh how she hated horses.

Standing quickly she glared towards where the sounds were coming from, confused talking, horses hooves on the dirt ground as the four riders rode their mounts through the unholy shrubbery and towards the now dead sounds of battle.

She stood defiant and strong, her brow bloodied - both her own and from wounds afflicted on others - but held high. Her piercing gaze took everything in, her dark eyes cut them all down to size – a knife to the gut – no longer Princes of a prestigious kingdom but men who had happened upon this scene, this powerful creature who appeared fearless as she stood, jaw set, curved lips forming a fierce snarl. Her slender arms were by her side, tensed, twin daggers in the vice grip of her small hands.

"... Are you alright?" Angus called, his voice loud and confident. If he had seen any other woman injured like she was he would have dismounted his horse and hurried to help her but... Witnessing what he and his grandsons just had he knew it best to stay at a safe distance, and if any other woman was injured as she was he dare say they would be dead.

"I am fine." The woman replied. In all honesty he was shocked to have received one, she still seemed to be debating whether they were people to trust.

"Do you need your wounds tended to?" He asked. They had watched the girl be attacked by the men and their first instinct was in fact to help her… But they had been paralysed by her sheer ferocity as she cut each man down.

"No... Thank you." She lowered her head so it was no longer tilted upward asserting her confidence as she analysed the men. The thanks seemed hesitant, as if she were unsure if this were the correct circumstance to apply such a thing.

Chancing a glance towards his grandsons Angus needed to assure himself that they were alright, to see if they had been startled by the scene - he was almost shocked to see quite the opposite.

Braedan, his usually deep set frown replaced with a soft expression of sympathy. A look on his face that he had not seen his grandson don since he were a boy. His hands placed on his horses' neck as if he were all but ready to run over to the girl and carry her to the nearest healer.

Ethan's brows were furrowed and mouth upturned in disgust, the middle child had never had a strong stomach for battles, blood or gore and the display of ferocious power they had just seen had struck him no different. One arm was loosely wrapped around his stomach and the other hanging over his mouth as he stared at the woman, eyes darting from head to foot.

Angus also imagined the girls' appearance was quite alarming for someone who was used to courting elegant royalty. Short, choppy dark blonde hair - almost brown - which had quite clearly not been washed for some time framed her intense face. Mud and blood smeared across her it and stained onto her tattered clothes. Eyes so dark and sharp they seemed to cut you with every glare, dangerous, passionate, stormy.

Sebastian looked mildly interested in the scene for a moment, taking in the form of the woman. Then his eyes trailed down to the bodies that scattered the clearing, his expression almost unreadable. Looking back to her, their eyes met.

Ren's eyes were fierce, so dark against her pale skin. Her face was smudged with dirt, lips dry from dehydration. Dark blonde hair lined her jaw, though most of it was pushed back from her face a lock had curled its way down over her eye. She was filthy, when was the last time she bathed? He wondered.

"Well..." The youngest half laughed, gaining the attention of all present. "Very impressive, next time could you possibly cover yourself in even more blood? I feel that would truly add to the savage barbarianism look you're going for."

A slow eyebrow raised as the girl looked at the Prince; she allowed some of the tension to fall from her shoulders as she placed her daggers back hanging at her side and crossed her arms, sinking into one hip - never taking her questioning gaze from the blue eyed man.

He had a juvenile look about him, a roguish grin flashing pearl white teeth. His sleeveless shirt exposed muscular defined arms – but he was no mere servant. Ren could tell by his features, handsome, regal, that he was bred for more than that. As were all those with him. His eyes were so bright they almost looked unnatural. Then her gaze turned towards the elder of the group and noticed he had the same, vibrant blue eyes.

The oldest, greyed hair swept back from his face and a thick beard covering most of his jaw smiled kindly at her when he noticed she had brought her attention to him, which she flinched at, somewhat involuntarily. He had gentle, worn features. Something about his presence made you feel at ease, want to tell him all your woes because you knew by the way he looked at you he was the type that would listen, but not judge.

The bulkiest of them all was staring at her with an expression that she was all too familiar with, but did not appreciate in the slightest. Pity did not go down well with Ren, whatsoever. His eyes were a much paler blue, tired, no, exhausted eyes. Small dark circles hung from them against his dark skin. His mouth parted slightly in a helpless gape, she knew he wanted to say something but there were probably a million things stopping him.

This last one, she could tell they were related – same tan skin, same curved lips – but he was just so… Everything about him reminded Ren of that Maker awful map she had crushed into her satchel, golden accents on everything he wore, a face that told her he expected her to know his name, a name which was held in high regard among many people, low in more than a few.

"Thank you ever so much for your wholly unwanted and rather useless comment, your Highness." The shock on each of the men's faces caused a small smirk to form on her lips. Sebastian's eyes flicked over to Ethan, he must've been the give-away. The other three wearing rather simple clothes.

But then… He thought, narrowing his eyes towards the girl. How did she know I was royalty…? I could have been an escort of some kind… It wouldn't have been the first time he had been mistaken for such, accidentally or not.

"Good day." She said before turning around with a grace that they had failed to notice she held before and walked out of the clearing.

"Shouldn't we-" Braedan began once the girl had left.

"No." Ethan said grimly taking the reins of his horse again, knowing what his elder brother was thinking.

"But she-"

"Is a filthy, murderous, heathen." The middle son shuddered as he recalled how easily she had killed all those men, big hulking brutes. Not only was Ethan extremely religious, but he was disgusted to see that someone could kill so easily. It was different, in his mind, when it came to armies. It was for the good of the country when they sent their troops to war, it wasn't blind murder.

"I'd say that's someone we want fighting for us instead of wandering the countryside." Sebastian smiled, hopping off his horse, walking over to the bodies, crouching down and inspecting the woman's handiwork closer, ignoring the hysterics his older brother had been put in at this.

"I must say..." Angus sighed, not having taken his eyes off the direction the girl had headed in. "I have to agree with you, 'Bastian." There were moments, mere moments when his youngest grandson showed the slightest potential - most of the time they were casual comments made in passing but Angus had to give credit where credit was due. Sebastian turned to look at the greying man, slightly shocked. A small smile formed as he looked back down at the reddened ground, savouring the ever so rare moments of praise.

"Grandfather!" Ethan clutched his reins close to his chest as he gaped at his elder in horror.

"She could be hurt..." Braedan said hopefully, looking to Angus with a half-smile to which he nodded in return.

"Let us see if that young woman would like employment."

Ethan shrieked, Braedan smiled and Sebastian laughed.

One thing Sebastian always liked about Grandpa was that he had a tenacious ability to horrify the stuck up nobles of Starkhaven, namely his parents, with his somewhat eccentric ideas.

And this certainly was, one of his more eccentric ideas.