AN: So.... this is my first fan fiction story, ever. (I have not written fiction in many years). Sadly, while the folks at Bioware did a wonderful job with the game, Dragon Age: Origins, I think that, in reality, most noble families would have had a much bigger hand in intrigue than was presented in the game. This fan fiction story is my version of the female Cousland origin story, and (probably) the game. In this version, I will be attempting to deal with past rape experiences, including flashbacks, guilt, and possibly addiction issues. As we progress in the story, it may lead into bdsm, dominance, and even polyamory (multiple sexual partners - likely Alistair and Zevran). Given the age we live in, many of these topics are highly controversial, and there will be those who do not agree with the conclusions I have drawn.

Also, if you like King Cailan, I offer my apologies in advance. I do not own Bioware's characters in any way, shape or form. I'm just using them for my creative outlet. :) I have changed some of the story to fit my views (and have also left out a considerable portion of the standard dialogue - I have a terrible memory and wouldn't be able to do it justice anyway).

If you are concerned that these may affect your psyche in any way, please DO NOT READ FURTHER (I placed this under horror for a reason). If you feel that my writing should be taken to another venue, please let me know and I will remove it.

-x-

Overcoming the Past

Prelude

-x-

You wake slowly, a dull ache pounding in your skull, the sheets twisted around your body mute testament to your poor sleep. You unwind from the sheets and sit up, your hand strays to the locket that you wear. Is it Caitlyn's birthday? It must be. She is three today. It has been nearly three years since you returned from Antiva. Without her. You open the locket, to stare at her portrait. Caitlyn has her father's eyes. Cailan. Him.

Your father's voice speaks softly to you across the years. "Elissa, for Ferelden's good, it must be done. The queen is likely barren, and Ferelden needs an heir to the throne." You nod your head, giving assent, even though it had been given before. "Cailan is not to know." Again, you nod. It is worth it; in exchange for this duty, you will get to do what you have always wanted to. …join the Grey Wardens.

You shake your head. You did your duty, including that hellish ride to Antiva with your brother and his wife, Oriana. If I have to hear 'In Antiva, women don't fight' one more time, I'm going to kill someone! I have heard it way too many times. Traveling while pregnant is a bad idea. Giving up your daughter for the greater good… the most difficult thing you have done in your life. She was… is beautiful. You stare at the locket. Coming home had been agony. Not being able to train while there was almost as bad.

Only two more months. Your father has promised, on your nineteenth birthday, you may go. You take a steadying breath. Caitlyn is being raised by your sister-in-law's family. They know she is yours, but not by whom. It is safer for her, for everyone, that way. Duncan had already tested you, when you were fifteen, he said you were good enough, then. Your father wouldn't allow it, and while Duncan would like to have you Join now, your father is still a stickler for protocol.

It is moot, anyways. Caitlyn is not yours to raise.

As you get out of bed, you untangle your waist length honey blond hair and then perform a sketchy wash with the cold water in your room's basin. Xion, your mabari war hound, wags his tail as you get out of bed and follows you around the room as you get ready for the day. You braid your hair and leave it trailing down your back. You put on your armor, and grab your longsword and dagger as you head out the door. You hop on one foot to get your second boot on all the way, and then pad quietly over to the kitchen. Nan is just pulling the first bread out of the oven.

You smile at her, and charm her out of another slice of cheese to go with the bread and head over to the training area. Your mother isn't back from her trip, yet. You heave a sigh. She still thinks she can get you to marry, rather than join the Wardens. She was a warrior when she was younger… why is she so surprised that you want the same? The last thing you could possibly want would be sitting in the sun and sewing all day. You suppress a shudder. Please Maker, anything but that…

You drink icy water from the pump in the courtyard and finish your breakfast. The empty courtyard is quiet and still lies in shadow. Being alone at the start of the day is the best you can manage, now, with your restlessness. The sun is only just cresting the horizon and your breath fogs in the crisp morning air. Drawing your weapons, you begin running through your weapon forms.

-x-

Three weeks have passed since Caitlyn's birthday. Your mother has just returned, and brought one of her friends with her. Lady Landra also brought her son with them. Dairren is friendly enough, but you're not his type. The two of you had considered getting married to make your families happy, but you don't think you could live with the farce. That decision hasn't prevented both of your mothers from wishful matchmaking, however.

Later that afternoon, as you and Dairren sit in the library, reading, your keen hearing detects muffled footsteps and quiet conversation. Glancing at Xion, where he is curled up at your feet, you smile and motion for him to stay and you stalk to the hall door and open it a crack. Dairren doesn't even look up, he is so engrossed. You grab a small hand mirror you keep on your person, and ease it out to the angle required to see down the hallway. A King's Messenger… I wonder what for…?

The messenger is led by a page to your father's study. Interesting, and more interesting. I wonder what's up now. The page announces the man to the guards at the door, and then leaves. One of the guards knocks on the door, and the man goes inside. The door closes. I won't get any more info until father decides to tell me.

You slip the mirror back into its pocket and close the door. Walking quietly back to your seat, your mind is whirling with all manner of thoughts. Dairren puts his book down and looks at you with questions in his eyes. You tell him in quiet tones what you saw. It's not every day we get a royal messenger, even though father's a Teyrn. You look at Dairren and shrug, "I have no idea what it's about. So don't even ask. We'll find out when we find out."

Dairren nods, "You always were the practical one." He goes back to his history book. You stifle a laugh as you sit back down.