A tavern means different things to different people. For the sailors, it's a chance to regain their land-legs, drink with comrades, and share fish tales that even the most inventive storytellers couldn't think up. For the locals, a tavern is an escape from work, spouses, and all the trouble that claws at their backs as they wander the darkened streets to their hovels each night. For the traveler, a tavern is the best place to obtain information. The loose lips of the patrons often spill the latest rumor or news from across the seas. So many different people from so many walks of life, all conglomerated into one small pub squirreled away in some back street is the adventurer's holy grail of information. And then there's me: the simple storyteller. I sit back and watch the rest laugh and jeer with a drink in my hand and eyes peeled for a story waiting to be found. If the walls could talk in these seedy little bars, my job would be much easier. But instead, I remain on constant alert.
I never let a good story go unheard.
Which is why I'm here now: sitting on a chair in my rented room with the cloaked figure across from me. She's calm, sitting with her back straight and her hands resting on her lap—a posture so ingrained into noble children that I'm sure she doesn't even realize she does it. Most of her face is still obscured by her hood.
"I was surprised by your invitation, Master Tethras," her voice is polite, but still guarded as though she isn't sure why exactly I've asked her to join me. I hold up a bottle of wine in offering—a parting gift from my good friends at Skyhold. She nods once and I pour some into a mug, which seems to pull a small amused smile from my guest.
"I could tell you were different from the moment you walked in the door. You carry yourself a special way, Your Grace." I slide the mug over to her and she catches it easily. She hums in thought, bringing the mug to her pink lips and taking a small sip. The fruity aroma wafts through the room. I've never been much of a wine-drinker, myself, but on this occasion I'm happy to have it on hand.
"I'll have to be more careful about how I carry myself in the future." She sets the mug down on the wooden table and studies me from beneath her hood. The light from the fireplace dances across the dark blue fabric and we sit in a comfortable silence as she seems to weigh what to say next. I decide to have mercy on her.
"I asked you here because I was hoping to hear if the legends are true, straight from the hero's mouth."
"They seldom are," she scoffs and carefully pulls the hood from her head. Her golden hair is spun in a traveler's braid and road dust is smudged on her face, but her blue eyes are sharp and aware, overpowering the dark circles nested beneath them. The wandering woman is gone and Catalina Cousland sits in her place.
"But if it's the truth you want, I'll tell you what I can...though, I'm afraid I'm not quite sure where to start."
I grin at her and lean back in my seat.
"Best to start at the beginning."
She looks into her mug and takes a deep breath—and another sip of wine for motivation. She watches the flames flicker, her eyes growing distant with recollection. The silence seems to stretch between us again, but I say nothing to break it. There's magic happening in the quiet—powerful magic—and a tale like hers shouldn't be rushed or coerced.
Then, carefully, she begins to speak.
The air was electric in the way that only an army preparing for war can achieve. The halls bustled with servants and soldiers alike, all scrambling to get ready for the long march south. The news of Darkspawn had spread like wildfire across Ferelden and the royal military was already stationed at Ostagar to stem the tide. My father immediately organized our forces and contacted our vassals, the Howes, to do the same. The Couslands are renowned for their loyalty to the crown and so I wasn't surprised at how quickly the troops assembled. I was surprised, however, to hear that the Arl had not been so organized.
Arl Howe had been my father's friend since they were young men. He was a shrewd man with a hooked nose and enough entitlement for all the noble families in Thedas. He and my father had shed blood together and never had he proven himself unreliable. Yet, as I walked into the great hall at my father's summons, I overheard the Arl apologizing for the delay of his men. It seemed so unlike him.
It had been years since I last saw Arl Howe and they had not been kind to him. His eyes were dark and sunken, his hair completely grey, and the creases and wrinkles on his face were more prominent. He looked like a stranger.
"Howe, you remember my daughter?" Father smiled warmly at me and extended his arm for me to stand at his side. He was warm and solid, his soft blue eyes welcoming.
"I see she's grown into a lovely young woman," Howe nodded his head, a smile straining his thin lips. The motion threatened to rip his thin skin apart. "A pleasure to see you again, my dear."
"And you, Arl Howe," I gave my pleasantries and looked to my father. I had been summoned for a reason and I prayed it was to be told that I would be marching alongside him and my elder brother. The thought of the three of us fighting together—Fergus and I making Father proud with each beast slain—was something I longed for more than anything.
"My son Thomas asked after you," Howe continued. "Perhaps I'll bring him with me next time."
I stiffened at his words, fantasies of battle and glory chased away by the mention of Thomas Howe—the tubby, pale thing that he was. Boasting his father's nose and sense of superiority, he flaunted himself like an overstuffed peacock, the buttons of his shirt threatening to surrender to the girth stuffed inside. He was vulgar, rude, and an utter crybaby.
"To what end?" The words left my lips before I could stop them. My father squeezed my shoulder, a small reprimand but I saw the way the corners of his lips twitched with barely contained mirth. Howe, however, let out a shocked laugh.
"See what I contend with, Howe?" Father smoothly took control of the conversation. "She gets fiercer by the day. Soon, she'll be running me out the gates and take the castle for herself."
"One to watch, I'm sure." Arl Howe gave me an odd look; one I wasn't quite sure I liked. Was he insulted that I didn't immediately swoon at the mention of his youngest son? Was he hoping to merge the houses of Howe and Cousland and move his way up in the world? I was uncertain at the time, but the thought of marriage to the pale, bumbling nightmare that was Thomas Howe was more horrifying than the Darkspawn threat.
"At any rate, Pup, I have an important task for you. The Arl's men have been delayed in Amaranthine, so I need you to tell Fergus to take the men and ride ahead of me."
"What? I won't be going with you?"
"We need a Cousland in Highever to keep the peace while I'm away. A token force will remain here to enforce your rule until I return."
I opened my mouth to protest but with the Arl and his personal guard just a few feet away, I bit my tongue. My father was the Teryn, not me. His word was law, no matter how much it stung to be left behind.
"I understand," I conceded.
"That's my girl. One more thing," Father nodded to a couple of guards at the door. They saluted and marched out. When they returned, a third man was among them.
He was breathtaking—tall and radiating power. His hair and beard were black as night. His shoulders were broad beneath his pauldrons, but most impressive of all was the griffon emblazoned on his chest. My tutor had spoken of the Grey Wardens before—all of my favorite lessons involved them. The Grey Wardens that stood vigil, waiting to stop the end of the world again and again. The Grey Wardens that slay terrible beasts, soaring in on the thunderous flap of griffon wings. They were heroes, the most elite of warriors, and there was one standing in my father's great hall! The part of me that was still connected to that wild-haired, bright eyed, young girl was bouncing and giggling with uncontainable glee inside my heart.
"Pup, this is Duncan. He's come to test Ser Gilmore for recruitment, and I trust he'll be shown every courtesy," Father said.
"Absolutely, Father. Welcome, Duncan. You honor us with your presence here," I was so relieved my voice was calm. It was like I had just been presented an actual griffon, so valuable and exotic, all I wanted to do was stare and touch and bask in its glory.
"The honor is mine, My Lady," his voice had the deep timbre of a man forged in battle. He looked to my father, almost cautiously. "If I may be so bold, I'd suggest that your daughter is also a promising candidate."
My heart stopped and I grabbed my father's arm in excitement. Father put his hand over mine and straightened his back, his face firm.
"Honor though that might be, this is my only daughter we're talking about."
Duncan nodded once and apologized. Just like that, my hopes were dashed for the second time that day. Ser Gilmore was a nearly perfect soldier, to be sure. Strong, loyal, handsome...I'd been infatuated with him for a time but he thoroughly rejected my advances—out of respect for me and my father, he'd said like the white knight that he was. But while I understood why Duncan would want to recruit him, I couldn't help but feel sinfully envious.
"Run along and do as I've asked, Pup. I'll see you at dinner."
"Yes, Father," I bowed, first to him, then to Arl Howe. "I wish you both a safe journey." The Arl glanced away with a quiet murmur of thanks and I turned to Duncan, trying to ingrain his visage into my mind. Such a rare and powerful man, and my only contact would be as his host and lady-lord. What a waste.
"Duncan, if you wouldn't mind, I have quite a few questions about the Grey Wardens. My tutor could only cover so much. Would you humor me over dinner?" I asked. Duncan didn't smile, but the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly and he nodded deeply.
"As you wish, my lady. I'd be happy to."
I bowed my head, then left the great hall with a weight on my chest. I wandered outside, wondering if I was truly doomed to a life trapped behind castle walls. Were stories of battle and honor meant to remain such to a woman like me? Stories to entertain me as I knit by the fireside, belly swollen with some pretentious nobleman's spawn, my bow mounted upon the mantle to remind me of my foolish youth? I felt sickened by the notion.
I found my brother in his room. His wife, Oriana, held his face in her hands, her forehead pressed against his as she whispered prayers of safety and love.
"There's nothing to worry about, my love," Fergus assured her quietly. His son, Oren, stood nearby. The poor lad had never looked so confused. I knocked on the door frame twice to announce my presence to the trio and Fergus grinned.
"And here's my little sister to see me off!"
"Auntie Cat!" Oren shouted and ran toward me, leaping into the air to be caught in my arms. I laughed. He was such a ball of energy, so pure and innocent and full of love for everything and everyone.
"Oren! My sweet little love, I do wish you wouldn't call me that!" I hugged him as he giggled in my arms.
"What else am I supposed to call you, silly? You're my auntie!"
"No doubt it makes your aunt feel old, Oren," Oriana smiled and kissed my cheek. "Sister, do try and talk some sense into your foolish brother. He seems intent on taking on the entire horde himself."
I grinned and put Oren down, ruffling his hair playfully.
"He could! No darkspawn will ever best Fergus!" I declared. Fergus pounded his chest and laughed.
"I'll kill a thousand of the beasts!" He roared. Oren cheered, but his mother was not so easily convinced.
"So you're really going to war, papa? Will you bring me back a 'sward?'" Oren asked, his eyes bright and eager. Fergus smiled and knelt to his son's level.
"You'll see a sword up close real soon, I promise. I'll bring you the mightiest one I can find." He kissed the boy on his head and stood upright. "So, what well-wishes have you brought to me, sister?"
"Only prayers for your patience. Father wants you to ride off ahead of him. Arl Howe's men have been delayed."
Fergus frowned at that.
"You don't say? Well, I'd best go along then. We're already behind schedule." He kissed his family. Oriana whispered something private against his lips.
I didn't like the thought of Fergus riding off alone, but he was a skilled warrior. If I couldn't fulfill the duty of a comrade and watch his back, I would fulfill the duty of a sister and pray for his victorious return. So, I watched him leave, eyes glued to his broad back that I had ridden on so often as a child. When he stepped through the door, he was no longer my loving brother, but a soldier.
I needed to stop being the daydreaming little sister and become the Teyrna.
That night at dinner, Duncan was gracious and answered all my questions with patience. He was a passionate man—I could tell by the way he spoke of his Order. He described the Grey Wardens, not as an awe-struck citizen, but as their leader. He told me stories of ancient wardens, women, as though he knew that was exactly what I needed to hear. Each word he gifted to me was more enthralling than the next.
All too soon, the sun was setting. I thanked Duncan for his time and bid my mother good night. I had hoped to speak with my father to ask him to reconsider Duncan trying me for recruitment, but he and Howe were already gone.
I returned to my room. A large mass of dark fur was already curled up on my bed, hogging all the furs. I smiled and scratched behind his ears.
"Balthazar, you silly beast! Leave some room for me!" I laughed as my hound rolled onto his back. I paid the toll with a belly rub and he barked happily, rolling off the bed and shaking himself out. I watched him trot in a circle before he wagged his stump of a tail and howled.
"What is it boy? Hungry?"
He poked his head under my bed and pulled something out. It was large, brown, and mangy. I squinted through the dim candlelight, trying to give a name to the shape. Balthazar plopped the thing at my feet and I leapt onto the bed.
"A rat?! It's enormous!"
Balthazar barked and hopped from foot to foot proudly. He seemed so happy with his prey, I didn't have the heart to reprimand him for bringing it into my bedroom. I grimaced at the thing, but reached over and pat Balthazar on the top of his head.
"And what a fine rat, it is. Good job, boy. Now why don't you take it outside?"
I watched as he lifted the creature in his giant mouth and trotted out the door. All my energy left me in a rush. I undressed and got back into bed, pulling the furs over my head. I heard Balthazar's nails clack against the stone floor, the groan of the door as he pushed it shut with his nose. He became a comforting weight at the foot of my bed and I drifted off to sleep easily.
I don't know how long I slept, nor what dreams I was violently ripped from when Balthazar began barking viciously. I sat up in bed, my eyes blurry with sleep and trying to adjust to the darkness of my bedroom.
"What is it? More rats?" I asked, leaving the warmth of my bed to open the door for my anxious hound. "Go get them."
But what waited for me in the hall was not any rodent of unusual size.
A sharp pain in my stomach knocked all of the air out of my lungs. I fell back onto the floor, curled up and holding my middle as I gasped for breath. Balthazar leapt at my attacker, his feral snarls and my assailant's screams flooded my ears as my senses returned to me. Balthazar's fangs ripped into the stranger's throat, shredding it and rendering his voice to a pathetic gurgling. Blood splattered on my bare skin as my hound continued to tear into the intruder and I pushed myself off the floor and scrambled to my wardrobe. Balthazar charged from my room and I heard more shouting in the hall. I grabbed a dagger and my quiver.
Balthazar howled from the hallway and I snatched my bow from the wall and dashed into the fray. Men swarmed into the private hall, brandishing their blades and shouting. Several already lay dead from where my hound intercepted them. A pair pounded on the door to my parents' room, their swords glinting in the torchlight. I stabbed one man in the back with my dagger while Balthazar took down the other.
"Mother! Father!" I called through the door and nocked my bow, shooting another invader in the throat as he stormed through the door leading from the guest apartments. There was no answer from inside and I could hear the thunder of soldiers roaring from farther out in the castle. At least the squadron sent to this wing was taken care of.
I cautiously stepped over to a dead soldier, my bow prepared for any surprises. He was face-down in a puddle of his own blood, his sword rested off to the side and his shield pressed against the floor beneath him. I rolled him over with my foot. It felt as though I had been dunked in a lake in the middle of winter, the wash of ice that fell over me and settled in my gut was so intense that I shivered. Bile rose in my throat, but it had nothing to do with the gaping hole in the man's neck from where Balthazar had ripped his throat out.
Painted on the man's shield was the Great Bear of the Howe family.
The room began to spin. Why would Howe do this? What did he think he could gain? I had so many questions flooding my mind at once but one thing was clear: Howe had betrayed us.
Balthazar nudged his head against my thigh, snapping me out of my panic. His hot tongue began to lap the blood off of my skin and the sounds of the invasion crashed over me like the waves of the Waking Sea. I didn't have time to feel sadness or anger...or whatever else was causing my stomach to twist in knots. I had to find my family and get them out. I had to survive.
I pat Balthazar's head once to push him away and stepped over the trail of bodies leading from my bedroom. My training leathers were displayed next to the door. They wouldn't offer much protection, but more so than my current nude state. I pulled on an undershirt and breeches, strapped into my armor, and prayed to the Maker that my family was safe. I pulled on my boots and darted across the hall to Fergus's room. Mother hadn't joined in the fray—she was a lady through and through, but my skill with a bow certainly didn't come from my father—which led me to believe she and Father must've been elsewhere. But Oren and Oriana weren't warriors. They had to be terrified.
As I went to open the door, my heart sank. The lock was broken. I pushed it open, already fearing the worst, but a sob wrenched itself from my throat before I could smother it. In the middle of the room lay my sister-in-law and nephew. The floors and walls were covered in their blood. Their skin was pale and lifeless, speckled with splatters of scarlet, and gaping gashes ran along the lengths of their throats.
You'll see a sword up close real soon, I promise.
Those had been my brother's final words to his son. The Maker has a disgustingly cruel sense of humor.
I couldn't tear my eyes away. Even as the horror continued to burn itself into my memory, my eyes remained on my sweet Oren's empty stare. Every part of my body felt as though it were being licked by flames—the rage spread through my veins until all I could think of was Howe's head rolling across the floor.
Then I ran.
The castle was burning around me, the siege of soldiers left nothing but destruction in their wake. Several of Howe's soldiers were in heated battle with the small force Fergus had left behind. I delivered arrows into their shins and allowed Balthazar to ravage them and clear a path. If my parents were still alive, they would've headed to the servant's entrance in the kitchens. My body moved automatically, my mind focused only on finding what remained of my family and feeding Howe's heart to my hound.
By the time I reached the kitchens, my hair and body were almost completely crimson with blood and I reeked of smoke. I shouldered open the entrance to the larder and narrowly missed an arrow aimed for my head.
"Catalina!" My mother cried when she saw me and lowered her bow. She hurried to my side and pulled me in, kicking the door shut behind her. My father lay in the center of the room, a pool of blood soaking his silken tunic.
"There...you are," he croaked. His face was ashen, the color of a man that was not long for this world. I felt my rage melt away, only to be replaced by despair.
"Darling, this isn't your blood is it?" Mother quickly checked me over, but I was numb. My father was trying so hard to support himself on his arms, the family sword and shield abandoned in front of him. "Listen, we must get your father out of here. He needs healing magic but I can't lift him on my own."
"Mother…" I could see he was in no position to be moved. Father seemed to agree as he shook his head at her words.
"Listen, pup...you and your mother must escape. Find your brother...tell the King what has happened...do not let Howe get away with this…" Father coughed, a guttural and wet sound that stained his lips and teeth scarlet.
"Bryce, please!" Mother protested.
I pulled away from her and knelt before my father. I carefully pushed some grey hair away from his face and bit back the tears that threatened to tumble from my eyes.
"I love you...my darling girl," he pressed his cheek into my hand. His blood seeped to my knees and mingled with the blood of Howe invaders on my skin. It was being tainted by their filth.
"You'll be alright, Father. Just hold on."
More shouting echoed in from outside the kitchen. The battle was getting closer and footsteps were closing in. Balthazar stiffened and prepared to pounce, saliva drooled over his blood-stained chops. He growled, low and ferocious, his ears flat against his head. Mother and I nocked our bows and aimed at the door just as it began to swing open. I knew my father wouldn't live much longer, but some part of me thought that I would die to protect him just the same.
When the door opened, my knees almost gave out with relief.
"Duncan!"
The Grey Warden slipped into the larder, covered in even more blood than I was. He slipped his blades onto his back and nodded once in my direction.
"I'm glad to see you made it here safely, my lady. Though I'm not surprised." He turned to my mother and father, his expression growing grim. "Your Ser Gilmore fought bravely, but his men were overtaken. I'm afraid they've broken through the front gates. They'll find their way here soon enough."
Father groaned and tried to hold himself up higher. Mother dropped her bow and rushed to his side. She kneeled and rested his head in her lap as he struggled to breathe.
"Duncan...please...take my wife and daughter with you. Get them to safety."
"No, Bryce, I won't leave you!" Mother protested. Father coughed again, his blood splattering on her thighs. I lowered onto the floor and took his hand.
"I will, my lord. But I'm afraid I must ask for something in return," Duncan kneeled before him with a frown.
"Anything!"
"I came here looking for recruits and the darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one," Duncan explained. He gave me a meaningful look and my grip on Father's hand tightened.
"You would bargain with him now?" It took everything I had not to shout.
"The darkspawn are a larger threat than these soldiers. If left unchecked, this invasion could cover all of Ferelden."
I scowled and opened my mouth but Father interrupted.
"I understand."
I shook my head. I thought Grey Wardens were meant to be heroes, but this man was bargaining over the lives of myself and my mother.
"I refuse," I spat. "This is my home—my family! If Fergus is dead there will be no one to rule Castle Cousland! I can't just surrender it to Howe!"
Duncan patiently put his hand on my shoulder.
"My Lady, if the darkspawn aren't stopped there will be no Castle Cousland."
I pressed my forehead against the back of my father's hand, tears flowing freely from my eyes.
"You must go, Pup...you must survive," Father squeezed my hand as tight as he was able and slid the family sword toward me. "Go with Duncan. Face the Blight. Then, after you've fulfilled your duty, take my sword...and plunge it into Howe's heart."
I wiped my eyes and bit my lip. I couldn't speak—I knew I would only dissolve into sobs. I took my father's sword and strapped his shield to my back, then turned to Duncan and nodded.
"We must leave quickly," Duncan stood and offered his hand to Mother.
She shook her head.
"Go with Duncan, Cat. But I will not leave your father behind."
"Are you mad?! That's suicide!" I tried to pull her up but she pushed me away, her face hard.
"We lived together and we will die together. I'll take as many as those bastards out as I can to buy you both time, but you must go now."
"We don't have time to argue," Duncan bowed his head deeply to my parents and grabbed my arm. "Hurry."
It was all happening too fast, I couldn't find the proper words as he pulled me farther and farther away. Father could barely keep his eyes open as he and mother watched us retreat.
I wish I had said something. I wish I had told them that I loved them; that I would avenge them—anything! But I could only stare at them, desperate to burn their faces into my mind so I would never forget what Howe had taken from me. Duncan closed the door behind us, Balthazar darting through at the last moment.
Then they were gone.
Then we were running.