Guess what I did? I deleted the next chapter for A Dangerous Thing. Instead of hitting the 'edit' button I hit 'remove' and wasn't even fazed by the pop-up...so yeah. Thankfully I have half of it written on a file somewhere on my laptop, but I was practically done with it before the accident. So I'm kind of bummed right now. That would be why I am uploading this first chapter to my Cousland story. Honest opinion guys, Does it suck? Did I butcher the canon intro? Is this way too different? As you can probably tell, I'm not too happy with this chapter for some reason, and it may be changed. So I thought I'd go ahead and get some opinions first.
April 4th, 2012: Beta-ed by my new beta ObsessionistXO
WARDEN
"Here, keep this on your back, it'll keep you warm." The Grey Warden brought fourth a fur blanket that he managed to salvage from his belongings, and draped it around the frame of her shoulders. The young Cousland clutched the blanket close to her body, holding its warmth within; and only loosened her grip when her Mabari hound nudged himself under the shroud as well. With an average fire burning in the center of their mini camp, it wasn't long until she was both toasty and tired. She curiously looked towards the Grey Warden, Duncan, whom was beginning to make himself comfortable against a fallen tree trunk. Duncan removed a flask tied at his waist and took a swig before passing along the water to her. "Tonight you must rest My Lady, and at dawn we will head for Ostagar," she listened to him fully, while tipping the flask for her faithful hound to lap. It didn't seem to bother the warden and he carefully replaced the cap before tying it back to his belt.
She squinted into the dancing flames, searching for words. "I cannot begin to thank you Ser Duncan," was what she ended up saying to the Grey Warden, who looked at her in woe. He held up his hand before she could say anything more, and shook his head undeserving.
"I'm afraid your thanks will mean nothing until Arl Howe is brought to justice your ladyship," he answered her, retouching his promise to inform King Cailan of Howe's betrayal. Still, he had saved her from the raid on Highever, and for that she would always be thankful. Seeing that Duncan wasn't going to listen for a 'but', she adjusted herself against the heavy log she sat along with her back. The young noble knew the sun would be up in a handful of hours and they would soon be walking the Imperial Highway again towards Ostagar. So sleep, no matter how long, was a necessity at the time being. She turned and rested her head against her furry companion, bunching the blanket to make a pillow against his muscular back. In response she felt the wriggling of her hound's tail and answered him with a scratch behind the ear.
She soon found herself in a slumber, but the young lady was haunted by terrifying images of her slaughtered family and friends. Her poor sister-in-law, who had only hours before saw her husband off to Ostagar, with her throat slashed and her Orlesian robes violently displaced; to her side the worst of the horror, which her mother had answered with a piercing cry. 'Little Oren' as her mother had always called him, her nephew, had an open gash the same as his dead mother's. Everything only became worst as they left for the secret entrance in the larder, Old Nan had been beaten before fatally given a sword wound and her elf helpers met similar fates. But it was what was behind the larder door which brought her to an abrupt awakening, her heart lively against her ribcage.
"You're awake," came Duncan's voice over the smoke of the smothered fire, he was feeding her Mabari something from his hand, "Good, it is time we get going." The only Cousland daughter sat-up suddenly, looking shakily down at her hands, half expecting her father's blood to still be a stain on the palms of her hands. She looked away relieved, thankfully remembering when the Grey Warden allowed her to stop and wash her hands. "My Lady," he was now handing her the family sword and shield, the Highever emblem carved neatly into the metal.
"Vesper," she responded, shrugging off the fur blanket and holding it up to fold. Duncan only nodded at her correction and continued to gather the remaining articles of their hasty camp. Vesper Cousland strapped her father's shield across her back and family sword into the sheath attached to her belt, which hung a little from the weight. To keep traveling light, she removed the scarf at her waist and used it to tie the blanket to the Mabari's back; whom sat rather proudly as she tightened the knot. She had no looking-glass, so there was no way to see if there was blood on her face or if her hair was matted and dirty; and asking the Grey Warden for an honest opinion seemed unimportant at the moment. When there was nothing left but an ashy fire pit and a fallen tree, Vesper followed Duncan back to the highway.
It wasn't as terrible as a walk as she had imagined, but it was different from her travels to Denerim or Orlais where usually a comfy carriage was involved. But the chance to see Ferelden at its rawest was a satisfying experience along the Imperial Highway. They scarcely stopped, save to use the bathroom or pass around the diminishing flask. And they barely spoke, but there was little to nothing for either of them to say. So in silence they walked, and only when the sun was at its highest and was beating relentlessly on her back did she ask to momentarily seek shade. Ten minutes she spent at the base of a tree, removing the hot blanket from her hound's back and tucking it between her back and her shield, fearing he might overheat. During that time Duncan had found water and perhaps for the tenth time they shared the flask. Just as she was growing comfortable, the warden helped her to her feet and they were off again.
It wasn't until dark that they finally reached Ostagar. The sun still peeked over the distant horizon, but just barely, and workers across the ruin were beginning to light the torches. Vesper breathed a sigh of relief, there was only one final obstacle and then, if her luck hadn't entirely run sour, a hot meal would be waiting for her. The bridge of Ostagar had seen better days, areas had crumbled and fallen into the wide ravine below, but there was plenty of walking room left. Now that they had reached their destination, the young Cousland felt no need to match the Grey Warden's quick steps and she gladly took her time crossing the overpass; staring wowed by the view. It only took her a little longer to reach the other side however, when her war hound realized his fear of heights and had cowered some distance behind her. After a little coaxing, they both rejoined Duncan.
"There is a great battle upon us, therefore we must have your ritual immediately," he said in a seriousness she felt was laced with fear. The young recruit had entirely forgotten she was to become a Grey Warden, in all honesty, that last conversation with her parents was all still a blur. Duncan saw the sadness cross her face and directly changed the topic, "Let us find Alistair, the junior Grey Warden, and get you settled in for the meantime."
Duncan led Vesper through the camp, and the entire time she viewed those around her with the utmost curiously. She noticed tents set-up for the Circle of Magi, and a couple of mages setting campfire with their magic. There was a kennel with Mabari hounds all sleeping, a small gathering around a revered mother of the Chantry, a place where the wounded were being tended to, and soldiers everywhere. In passing however, none of them she recognized as part of her father's army that travelled with Fergus the morning prior. She prayed they were gathered somewhere else within the King's camp. They passed through the remains of an epic archway, to which Vesper looked up admirably before setting her eyes on the colony of tents in the next clearing with a big bonfire surrounded by men in the center. Laughter and cheers rung through her ears. She smelt the strong aroma of mead and stew, a combination all too familiar in the soldiers' barracks back at Highever Castle. Duncan approached the crowd, clearing his throat once he was in hearing.
"Duncan!" One man stood up where a stump had been made his seat and he pressed past the dining men to greet them, although he wasn't entirely sure how to receive Vesper's presence by the way he was looking at her. Upon closer look, and what little light the fire provided from where they stood, he was a handsome fellow and appeared rather glad to see the Grey Warden. "I see you found our final recruit, although..." he paused to consider his words, "I was pretty sure you said it was a he." His last words were said in a hush, probably to avoid Vesper from hearing, but she undoubtedly did.
"Alistair, this is Vesper Cousland of Highever," Duncan answered plainly. The name Cousland obviously had made an effect, for the man immediately stiffly smiled in embarrassment and nervously laughed.
"These days some men look like women, and women like men." The young Cousland looked at him perplexed, was he insulting her? The young man must have recognized what was wrong with what he said and worriedly waved his arms back and fourth. "Not saying you look like a man of course! It's just that some women walking around with a sword can be misleading-," he made notice of the sword attached to her hip. "Not you of course! No you're- you're" she watched as he quickly regarded her from head to toe, "You're definitely woman."
"Alistair!" Duncan huffed, embarrassed by his protégé and shaking his head. Other than the minor slander, Vesper was a little flattered and couldn't help but briefly smile at the man's flustered apology.
"Right. I'm Alistair, guess that's what should of came out of my blubbering mouth first," he extended his hand to her and she found that her own small hand fit snugly in his grasp. Unlike most of the soldiers that were parading about the camp, this Alistair, was wearing only a linen tunic and his breeches while his leather boots were still tied on his feet. Looking past him, she saw that most of the others he had been sitting with were all under dressed as well. "I'm the junior Grey Warden," he finished, releasing her hand back to her waist.
"Please show Lady Cousland to her tent, and make sure she has a nice hot meal," Duncan proceeded into the business of things, "I must go see the mages about the ritual." During their travels, the warden had only mentioned the ritual once and that it was necessary for all initiates. She curiously asked of the ritual, but he edged around her questions, assuring her it was an essential secret of the Grey Wardens. From then on she didn't bother to ask him anything more, she passed the time by thinking of various ways she could kill Arl Howe.
Duncan left her and her loyal hound in the care of Alistair, although she wasn't confident he was all too prepared to do so. The junior warden clapped his hands and rubbed them together, "To your tent then." He turned to lead, but had waited for her to walk beside him rather than behind him. Vesper watched the feasting wardens, whom all at least looked at her in a glance; followed by a chorus of 'my lady' and knew they had overheard Duncan's introduction of her. In passing, she noticed all the grey wardens to be men, except what looked like an elf on the far side of the bonfire.
They progressed from one tent to the next, each tall enough to stand in and big enough to home three men. Vesper was waiting to stop at any one of them, expecting she'd be normal for once and get to share a tent with the wardens. However when the junior warden had stopped at the last tent and pulled back the opening for her, she looked down at a single bed roll, perhaps a little more plush than it should have been. Vesper walked in disappointedly, so the nobility thing was still going follow her to the front lines. She stopped in the center and took a quick look around, patting her Mabari on the back when he brushed past her to get to the bed roll. "Are you sure he was expecting a he?" the young Cousland turned back to Alistair, recalling when Duncan had told her he had intentionally come to Highever to recruit her instead of Ser Gilmore.
"Well not per se-" the warden said, obviously trying to recall the conversation. "I remember Duncan mentioning wanting to recruit the Teryn's daughter- well you," he fumbled, "but that he would have to be satisfied with one of your father's knights." So if the bastard Arl Howe hadn't raided her family's castle, Ser Gilmore would be sharing a tent with the wardens and Vesper would be teaching Oren how to use a sword; a wooden one of course. Vesper began to unbuckle her belt, forgetting she was in the presence of the warden. "Well, I'll just- uhm," the young recruit looked back at him again, "Food, yes food. You must be starving?" She nodded and smiled to calm him, "Of course you are. I'll just...go check the stew, make sure it's not...entirely terrible."
Vesper listened to him step away from her tent before she remembered to call him back, "Do you have a spare shirt?" That puzzled the junior warden, whom cautiously nodded.
"I don't think it's going to fit though," he pointed out the obvious, watching as she nodded and gently placed her scabbard and sword on the ground.
"Yes, well anything not soaked in blood right?" she replied humorously, showing him her sleeve which faintly glittered in the dim light. It was hard to believe that it could still be damp after all this time, and that it was mostly that of her late father. That made her inhale sharply.
"Yes...blood is bad," he answered her while she continued to undress, now working at the straps of her chest plate; "I'll just go get that spare shirt then." Alistair disappeared and Vesper felt a little awkward.
She had hoped that joining the Grey Wardens meant no more royal treatment by her comrades, but obviously that wasn't going to be the case. She struggled for a moment on the difficult buckle on her shoulder, before it clattered about her feet and she could finally breathe. It wasn't until she had removed it that the young Cousland noticed the large dent in her armor, the result of a brutal tackle of one of Howe's Mabari hounds released into the castle. Vesper breathed pleasantly for the first time since the attack and went on to remove her gauntlets and the armor plates buckled to her boots. She was down to her blood stained shift and socks when Alistair had returned, only pushing his hand through the entry when he had noticed she was far more undressed than he thought she'd be.
"Does this suit the lady?" he asked of her from outside the folds of her tent, pulling back his hand when she had relieved his spare tunic from his grasp. Vesper pulled her dirty shift over her head along with her brassiere, since it too had fallen victim to the blood bath. She looked at herself noticing she was in a desperate need of a bath to wash away the dried blood, and even some of the pain. However there was no time for pleasantries tonight, so the recruit took Alistair's tunic and easily pushed her limbs through its openings. It was long enough that she didn't need to wear her dirty stockings, a nice mid-thigh length that covered her small clothes. The sleeves were of course big, but she rolled them up to her elbows to fix that. Perhaps the only fault in his shirt was that it exposed a little more bosom than was appropriate, but it was clean and frankly she didn't care.
"I'd say it's a perfect fit." Vesper stepped out of her private tent barefoot, and carefully presented herself to Alistair. He'd obviously noticed the low collar line as well, but made the effort not to comment.
"Hungry? We saved you some stew," he said instead, smiling, "I can assure you it is quite...bad, but it'll feel you up!" Vesper could care less whether the food was bad or not, she was just interested in satisfying that ache in her belly. "I suppose this is the part where I escort you there," the junior warden jested, stepping in toe beside her when she took the firs step.
Alistair took her to the assembly of wardens, to which he introduced her to the lot of them and made it quite clear she was indeed a woman when one of them poked fun at his earlier comment. There was the convenient empty space on the grass, included with a decorative blanket for cushion. Partially annoyed by the royal treatment, she decided to take her obvious place, but not before she handed the blanket to a warden beside her and sat cross-legged on the grass. A hefty bowl of stew was passed to her through the various conversations, and she was surprised by the satisfactory blandness. Alistair took his place beside her, perhaps out of duty to Duncan and watched intrigued as she asked for another bowl. After a fourth bowl of the tasteless stew, she asked for one more and decided to save it for her dog.
Through overhearing, Vesper learned they had been in battle thrice times before her arrival, but the Darkspawn gave the impression their numbers were only growing in number. Some mentioned terrible nightmares of the blight and the feeling of 'feeling' Darkspawn, which made Vesper, wonder just what she agreed to. She had also learned that five others had been recruited, where they were amongst the crowd though she didn't know. Still only a recruit, the young woman felt blind sighted to just how serious this blight was and that a shared feeling of doom had crossed paths with the warden. She jumped slightly at a hand on her shoulder; all the talk of bad and evil had left her jumpy. "Duncan will be coming soon, are you going to take that to your hound?"
She looked down at what was probably cold stew now and nodded, "Yeah he's probably starving as much as I was."
"Then allow me to escort you back," the change in Alistair's dialect was unexpected, especially after all the rambling and jokes. Vesper carefully got to her feet, avoiding toppling into the others or dumping stew on someone. It was rather dark now and she was thankful for the junior warden as her guide, who easily found her tent through the darkness.
Inside her tent, the acrophobic Mabari hound was resting with his head stooped against the fury blanket she had carried. He greeted her happily, but only gave the warden a mere narrowed look before sitting promptly before his master. Vesper scratched the top of his head and knelt down to place the bowl in front of him, "It's a little cold, but I don't think you'll mind." The hound tilted his head knowingly at her and went to eat when she stepped aside, back to where Alistair was standing in observation. "Didn't think so," she chuckled when he scarfed it down.
"So what is his name? Cerberus? Barkspawn? Ser Barker?" Alistair wondered, watching as Vesper shook her head to each suggestion. "Oscar? I bet it's Oscar, he looks like an Oscar," he leaned over to pet the feasting hound, surprised when the dog gave him a look and carried the bowl further away in the tent. "I don't think he likes him," the warden grumbled.
Vesper chuckled behind her hand, "Nothing as extravagant as that. It's simply Dog."
"Dog?" Upon the use of his name, the Mabari hound raised his head from where he now ate. Alistair noticed and shook his head, "Sorry not talking to you." Dog gave him an unpleasant look with his ears flattened and then went to lick the bowl clean. The warden looked sternly at the floor, realizing he was just talking to a dog. "Well that's boring..." he dragged out about the name, propping a brow at Vesper. Before she could answer, there was a gruff voice outside the tent. "That must be Duncan," Alistair stated.
And it was. The two emerged from the tent and Alistair went to stand by the older warden, whom was no longer carrying his sword now but still wearing most of his armor. He greeted Vesper with a nod and gestured for her to walk with him, the junior mage following close behind. She was shown back into the King's Camp and away from the wardens in silence, until they had climbed the stairway of a ruin and towards a stone carved table. Already on the table was a large chalice, decorated in red gems and glittering in the moonlight. Duncan went to stand by the table, while Vesper kept her distance. "While we usually require initiates to go into the wilds to retrieve a vial of Darkspawn blood for themselves, time is of the essence, and it is too late to have you venturing into the Korcari Wilds," the grey warden walked to the chalice and spilled the contents of a vile into it's contents.
"Is this the joining then?" she asked, twisting her head to peer at Alistair. He nodded, suddenly averting his eyes away from her.
"Yes, the joining requires you to drink the blood of the Darkspawn and master their taint," Duncan spoke bluntly of it, revealing the glistening liquid in the chalice. Vesper suddenly felt regretful and doubtful, trying to wrap her finger around the concept.
"Isn't their blood poison, I could die?" she had already known what the answer was, but she needed a confirmation from the two wardens with her. They shared a look between themselves and then Alistair answered for her.
"Yes, you could die," it almost saddened him to say, "But it is the appropriate risk to end the blight." Vesper felt that impending thought of dying and the same emotions she had felt in Highever were suddenly flooding back. However, this was different; she couldn't cut her way to survival, this was about chance.
She raised her head proudly and clenched her fists, gazing nobly at Duncan, "What have I got to loose." There was nothing left to take from her, she had already lost everything. Vesper left her mother and father to die when she too should have been caught in the slaughter. If she was to parish now, it didn't matter. She would just have to seek justice in the afterlife. Her decision made, she nodded to Duncan, who then nodded to Alistair.
"Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you parish," as if some sort of omen of words, Vesper watched as Alistair spoke, his eyes now lingering on her too. "Know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and that one day we shall join you." Duncan now had the chalice carried with both hands, crossing that small gap between him and her. All the while her heart pounded in anticipation, would she survive or parish? Presented to her, Vesper took the chalice to herself and gazed disgusted at the black taint floating along the brim. She couldn't hesitate. So just as swiftly as she cut through Howe's men that barged into her room last night, Vesper Cousland drank from the chalice; and she made sure she had swallowed every last drop.
