"Elissa!" The shrill snap rippled down her spine, straightening it as it traveled through her. Her conquest dropped wastefully from her hands, folding in front of her skirts with as much grace as she could muster in the few seconds she had to claim innocence. In the final moment, she peered up through her eyelashes at Nan with the widest eyes she might achieve.
"Yes, Nan?" She recited, blinking once. She could feel it. There was no escape this time. The urge in her cheeks to twitch. The achiness in her feet to shift…
"What are you doing in here?" Nan demanded, although with less force than she had grown accustomed to. Curiosity piqued, Elissa lifted her head, hand tugging at one of her braids as she examined Nan's face.
"Nothing," she lied with ease, now more intrigued by the way dim larder lighting revealed new lines in Nan's fair skin she had not seen before. A heave of well-rounded shoulders and Elissa knew she was free...although not nearly in the satisfying way she had hoped.
"Get to bed, child," Nan sighed, bending to pick up the obvious snacks that Elissa had attempted to pile into her skirts; a convenient bowl that she could hold out at arms length and plunge back through the servants stairs to her chamber.
Once she had made it all the way up the stairs before Nan had appeared from the shadows, as if she might have secretly been a powerful apostate (she certainly had the wrath to be one). Nan's shrill shrieks had not been critical of Elissa's blatant thievery, but rather for the unladylike billowing of her skirts, her shame free for all the castle to see as she ran.
"What is wrong, Nan?" She did not budge from her spot as she continued to tug awkwardly at her right braid.
"Get to bed, Elissa. I will be up in a moment to speak with you," her voice had softened now, but the lines in her face had not. Free of trouble, Elissa was not free of guilt, the way it sunk tiny, dirty claws into her stomach and made her wonder how she would ever meet again. Nan must have been a mage, to cast that spell that squirmed inside of her belly.
Silently, she obeyed, first adjusting her skirts in the way Nan liked. A glance over her shoulder proved that Nan had not even noticed, nor did it help the growing lines on her face.
"My lady!" The hailing call lifted Elissa's head on command, rising from the book to place her chin parallel to the ground, as a good Teyrn's daughter should. Maker, even her thoughts were in mother's voice. She had confided this concern in Fergus once, just after Nan had been moved to the kitchens and mother had taken over in caring for Elissa. It was a spell, she was convinced. A spell that poisoned her mind, a favor Nan had done for their conspiring mother. He had merely laughed at her, and promised her that it was normal; what else were parents for?
"My lady!" Gilmore trotted across the courtyard, eyes wide in a bit of a frenzy. Her lips tempted themselves to smirk at the sight of him; swimming in his new armor he had just received for training. They had also awkwardly cut his hair, which swung lopsided as he came.
"Yes, Gilmore?" She had to take a silent breath to not laugh. A man's ego is fragile, came mother's reprimands again. Still, her abdomen rippled with her oppressed laughter, although she triumphed.
"I've been looking all over for you-" he panted, speaking at a rate where she thought his words might bump into each other. "I mean, your presence is requested, m'lady," he mumbled. He must have heard his own mother's voice in his head, she imagined.
"What for, Gilmore?" She closed the book, holding her finger on the page she had been reading.
"Nan started yelling about Scout, and-"
"Say no more, Gilmore," the young girl took pity on the boy. He was only a few years her superior, and she could see it in the red acne that sprinkled his fair skin. Fergus had also endured the awkward phase when he breached fifteen, and she had ensured he had never heard the end of it. Secretly, she feared what might happen when she reached fifteen, if her own skin, already marred with unruly freckles on her nose, would appear swollen and scarred.
"Thank-you, m'lady," he mumbled over the end words. They still tasted awkward, she imagined. If anything, he was relieved, for what she figured was a combination of silencing Nan's shrieks, as well as triumphing over the formality of the conversation. Awkwardly, he hovered, both with furrowed brows on what happened next.
Without a word the boy retreated, free of the silence, leaving her alone.
"Here she is!" Booming laughter filled Elissa's veins with warmth they had been missing. "Come in, Pup!" Her father called, reminding her she could feel comfortable among his comrades.
Obediently she stepped to his side, a cautionary glance taking attendance of the evening's company. Arl Howe was here, again. Beside him his wife, silently lecturing their fidgeting Thomas. Across from him sat Anora, clearly bored as she knocked a utensil with her long elegant fingers. the Teyrn Loghain was far too concerned with a conversation that Elissa's tardiness had interrupted. Dark black eyebrows were furrowed in frustration, directed at her beneath a heavy brow. Her throat closed, and she could only offer an apologetic curtsy to the company. No one was pleased by it; most had not even noticed it. Her father brushed it off with another broad smile.
"What has kept you, Pup?" Her cheeks tinged pink with heat at the awkward pet name her father had. A smirk drew at Anora's rosy lips, and Elissa's stomach writhed.
"Scout was in the larder again, and I was helping Nan clean up-"
"Silly girl," Arlessa Howe chuckled at the story. "So kind to spend your time, but your castle has a good deal number of servants who are paid to do just that-Thomas!" Her attention was diverted by some inappropriate nuance of her son that Elissa had not seen. Taking advantage of someone else'sfaux pas, she slid into her seat beside Fergus, who kicked her ankle teasingly.
"That dog is more trouble than it is worth,"Anora spoke to Elissa, although her voice had a regal command that reached the entire table. The adults chuckled their good-natured agreement, before returning to their own matters. Her gaze was not on Elissa as she spoke though, but rather leveled on Fergus with a secret smile in her light eyes that made Elissa squirm in jealousy.
Anora had perfected the way she held her chin parallel to the ground. Without flinching she met the eyes of everyone she spoke with. She did it as if she had been doing it her whole life. She had been...they all had been. Only Elissa had not caught on to whatever secret they had all figured out. Fergus's secret smile that he offered her was not only as natural, it was downright disgusting.
Elissa was nothing but relieved when the doors parted and food was ushered in.
Perched on a branch, Elissa's short legs swung. Bitterly she tugged at her braid, unsure how Nan had pleated it so tightly that it yanked on her scalp. In protest the small child had hidden in the old tree, watching with rueful glee as Nan scoured the kitchens for her.
Something caught Nan's attention, and she thought perhaps Nan had found her face sticking out of the green foliage. No. Nan was not thinking about her anymore. A slight frown traced the young girl's face as the door opened. A guard ushered in two small children, faces cast down on the stone floor.
Stretching forward, she could barely hear what was said. It certainly wasn't about her. And she certainly did not recognize their pointed faces, or big blue eyes. Peering, she found pointed ears to match their pointed noses and chins sticking out of their thin sheaths of hair.
"...new servants for when you…." she heard. "...Antivan slave trade freed…" Nothing that interested her, she had decided. Which meant it was about time to remind Nan that she was missing. HIding was no fun when no one was looking for you.
Scrambling down the tree, she wasted no time in hauling herself through the window. All eyes turned upon her, widening at the sight of the young Teyrn's daughter crawling through the kitchen windowsill.
"Elissa Cousland, by the Maker!" Nan clasped her face in exasperation that assured Elissa that the new children were forgotten. She did not have to jump down; Nan already yanked her down and plopped her down on the ground. Now on level ground, she could examine the pointy-eared intruders.
"Who are they?" She asked, and Nan's face informed her that that was not polite to say. Elissa pursed her lips to keep her words trapped in her mouth, but still the Guard answered.
"They will be working here in the kitchens. This is their new home-"
"Is that a dog!" The small girl shrieked in glee, her trapped words flinging free as she saw the small puppy cradled in the girl's arms. Now she could see burning red in the girl's eyes, and tears dotting her cheeks.
"Do not get attached. That thing will be headed straight out of here-" Clearly Nan's words, perhaps her tone (it was after all, a scary tone), set the girl off to bawling once more. A prick in Elissa's chest was all she needed to dive forward, rescuing the dog.
With a petulant face of defiance to Nan, she took off to save him to the cheers of the new pointy-eared children and her own snorts of triumphant laughter.
Nan never chased her.
"I'll send my eldest off with my men. You and I will ride tomorrow, just like the old days!" The Teyrn Cousland's confidence carried through the wood of the doors.
"True, though both of us had less gray in our hair then. And we fought Orlesians-not... monsters," Arl Howe remained cautionary; the grounding element to the sheer ambition that was the Teyrn.
"At least the smell will be the same!" Teyrn Cousland laughed, refusing to hear any hint that failure was in his future. Failure was not even in his vocabulary. "I'm sorry Pup, I didn't see you there," he spoke as Elissa strode through the door, following the sound of her father's voice. "Howe, you remember my daughter?" He turned to his companion, drawing Elissa's eyes with his. She placed a fair smile on her face, approaching.
"I see she's become a lovely young woman. Pleased to see you again my dear," he spoke earnestly and with elegance. It was the talent of a noble to convince their listeners they believed full-heartedly in their words...even if they didn't.
"And you, Arl Howe," she matched the reverence in his voice with a diplomatic smile and slight nod of her head.
"My son Thomas asked after you," his transition lacked the tact his greeting did. Greetings were all that really mattered after all, when speaking with an eligible young lady. His next words were inevitable; "perhaps I should bring him with me next time." It had not been a question.
"I'd like that," she recited, as she did with every blatant offer any Bann, Arl or Teyrn threw her way. That clearly sated the topic, allowing true business to take over.
At which point, she did not bother to listen. She had heard it all before Howe's arrival. She could only nod in agreement as they spoke around her.
"There's also someone you must meet…" her father's words drew her avid attention back to their banter. "Please show in Duncan," her patient facade faded as she eagerly drew her attention to the door.
In strode a man, appearing far older than he clearly was. On his olive face were the same spider-leg wrinkles that had consumed Nan's. A dark beard grew, out of what seemed like simply giving up as opposed to fashion. It was the way he walked that caught her eye. He strode in a way that the knights could only aspire to. The man had seen battle. The man was powerful. He was graceful. Despite her best effort, she could not stop her eyes from widening.
"It is an honor to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland-"
"Your lordship! You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present," Duncan had barely spoken before Howe plunged on, a slight edge of panic in his voice. All eyes landed on him. The men continued to speak, stammering out formalities as her gaze edged over to Duncan once again.
His shield, she noticed. It bore the symbol that she had seen in books that Ser Gilmore was constantly shoving in her face in amazement. Battle had never really interested her, although she listened to his eagerness patiently, sometimes gratefully as he shared his daydreams with her. At least he did, until he blushingly realized that he was horribly out of place in being so forward with the nobleman's daughter.
"...Duncan is for recruits," Elissa's eyes snapped back to her father, before recalling her manners. Straightening her posture, she listened emphatically. "I believe he has his eye set on Ser Gilmore," he spoke with an edge of pride in the ambitious knight. Even Elissa lost her breath in glee for Gilmore...her certainly deserved it.
"If I might be so bold," Duncan turned to the Teyrn, unapologetic in his forward addressal. "I believe you daughter might be an excellent candidate-"
"Honor though that might be," her father stepped firmly between herself and Duncan. She could only bite her lip, refusing to let the snort of laughter that bubbled in her belly out. To imagine her in battle was...a joke. It had to be a joke. Her talent with a blade only came from Fergus forcing her to learn, so that he might have a decent opponent who did not try to let him win. "This is my daughter we're talking about," he paused, and with a look she realized it was her turn to speak. A joke was tempting, but with that look her father gave her, she could only offer an obedient answer.
"I've no interest in becoming a Grey Warden," it was not a lie. She truly did not. Especially looking at the man before her. She would not survive a day in that life, she had decided. She barely survived in a castle.
"Do you hear that Duncan?" The Teyrn spoke loudly and regally, asserting his dominion over their visitor. "My daughter is not interested, unless you intend to invoke the right of Conscription…" it was a challenge. Duncan surely would not go out of his way to be so defiant for no real reason, not when he had Gilmore as an alternative. It would have been sheer petulance. Still, she saw a flash in the man's dark eyes, sunken back in his face with experience.
"I have no intention of pushing the issue," he conceded at last, and her father could visibly relax.
Even as they spoke, Duncan's dark gaze did not leave her face. Even as she obediently looked at her father, his gaze pierced through her, as if he could see straight through her.