-This is a labor of love a few years in the making. It took a bit of prodding and a LOT of wine to finally convince myself to post my first fanfiction, so please be gentle... Dear reader, I hope you find as much enjoyment in the reading as I did in the writing. - (Oh, and fair warning, Flynn is a hopeless romantic at heart, so prepare for some sickeningly saccharine romantic bits mixed in with your blood and darkspawn gore.)
-Prologue-
Flaming ash rained down on Flynn Cousland as she clawed her way to refuge behind a soot-blackened column. Thick smoke billowed throughout the corridor, setting fire to her lungs and making it impossible to survey the carnage unfolding around her in every direction. The shriek of the arch demon called to her from the courtyard, beckoning to her from the darkness and igniting the taint in her blood.
Flynn knew what she had to do. She had known since that first fatal taste of darkspawn blood that damned her to this fate. Every death and sorrow had culminated in this final showdown. If she did nothing, then everything and everyone she had fought so desperately to save would be consumed along with her in the flames.
Flynn pulled the final arrow from her quiver and stepped out from behind the column to face her death.
-Chapter One-
Lighting crackled across the dark clouds illuminating Flynn's mud spattered face. Rain cascaded in rivulets down her back. She shivered as a cold chill ran up her spine.
"This is it," she whispered softly and wiped the stinging rain from her face. Her years of hard work and training had culminated in this single moment. She faded into the tall grass and crept across the field towards her unsuspecting target, the damp grass muting her footfalls. She cried out triumphantly as she leapt from cover and slid into Roderick Gilmore's oblivious backside. He crashed face-first into the mud in a tangle of limbs and armor. Flynn rolled to her feet, howling with laughter as he spat mud and curses at her.
"Dammit, Flynn, you're too quiet! That was completely unfair!"
She amiably reached down to help her childhood friend to his feet, but Roderick seized her hand and yanked her down into the mud next to him. "You are such a sore loser!" she laughed, flicking muck at him.
"And you, madam, are a deceitful sneak," he growled as he finally liberated himself from his cockeyed helm. "We were supposed to be practicing direct hand to hand combat."
"Hey now, you said you bet I couldn't take you down, but you never specified how I had to do it," she shot him a mischievous look and reached over to wipe a streak of mud from his nose.
He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her grubby knuckles, "And how, pray tell, would you like me to pay off my debt?" He wagged his eyebrows at her lecherously.
She snatched her hand away with a gasp of mock outrage, "For shame Ser Gilmore, you are speaking to the daughter of a Teryn! We both know you are nowhere near refined enough for my dainty, feminine wiles."
He took one look at her mud-spattered face and burst into laughter, "Dainty? Feminine?! Oh, that's rich!"
She gave him a sour look and tried to wipe her face with her shirttail.
"Oh, come on Flynn, don't pout. I humbly beg your pardon my lady. But, how could I possibly help myself when basking in the light of such a vision of beauty? I mean, you just look so ravishing smeared in what I can only assume is horseshit. Truly, you must be Andraste incarnate."
"You are such an ass," She laughed.
"Oh come on... you love it. You know you are going to be bored out of your mind without me here to harass you."
"It's true," she rolled to face him. "Maker help me, but I'm actually going to miss you once you head out tomorrow."
"Of course you are." He laced his hands behind his head, "I'm amazing. How could you not miss me?"
"I wish I could go with you and father to Ostagar," she sighed. "I can't believe I have to stay in this stuffy castle while you are out slaying darkspawn and having thrilling adventures. You're probably going to single handedly stop the blight and then run off to Denerim with some busty wench."
"Knowing my penchant for dashing heroics and busty wenches, you're probably not too far off." He grinned at her wickedly, "I mean you might as well just accept the fact and resign yourself to the life of a spinster. I could probably find you a cat or two before we leave tomorrow."
"It's just not fair," she grumbled. "I mean I'm clearly the better fighter..and archer..and all around person."
"Alas, such is the life of a noble woman. I am sure there are matters of court that could simply not go on without you. Do try to find time to write me between your dress-fittings and cross-stitching."
"Oh please," she scoffed, "We both know that without me you're as good as darkspawn bait."
Their laughter tapered away as the icy rain began to pick up again. Thunder rolled ominously in the distance. Flynn looked up at the dark clouds and a terrible apprehension suddenly gripped her. As much as they joked about it, the reality was that Ferelden was facing the threat of ruin at the hands of the darkspawn.
Less than a week ago, a messenger had ridden into her family's keep with news of a darkspawn resurgence. The king requested that her father, the Teryn of Highever, send reinforcements to join his ranks at the fortress of Ostagar to face the growing horde. Her father had begun assembling his forces and immediately deployed the bulk to Ostagar. A small contingency had stayed behind to wait out his final bannerman, Arl Howe, who was now three days late.
The Arl had sent a messenger ahead with a convenient excuse about the weather delaying their progress, but Flynn was not fooled. The journey from Amaranthine to Highever was no more than a day's journey on horseback. The Arl was stalling, but why? She sighed wearily and glared up at the sky.
"Flynn, what's wrong?" Roderick asked.
"Do you think I'm being paranoid?"
"About something specific, or just in general?" he quipped.
"About Arl Howe," she said witheringly.
"Well I suppose you will find out soon enough," he said and pointed over her shoulder towards the garrison gates.
A grey-haired man with a pinched, sour looking face thundered towards them on a nightmarish black stallion. Flynn barely managed to roll out of his path as he galloped by. Arl Howe reared his horse to a stop and frowned down at them. "Ms. Cousland," he seethed, "What a lovely surprise to find you here!" He narrowed his eyes at Roderick and clucked disapprovingly. "Oh, and lolling about in the filth with a commoner, no less. Such behavior is hardly befitting a lady of your stature. Whatever would your mother say?"
Flynn fought an overwhelming urge to yank the man off his horse by his tacky little trousers and show him exactly how a lady of her stature behaved. "Oh, how inconsiderate of me! Had I known we were having such influential company I would have donned my finery. Perhaps if you had arrived when you were supposed to, you may have found me in a more presentable state," she retorted with a sickly sweet smile.
The Arl narrowed his eyes and snapped his reins. He glared back at her as his horse trotted towards the main hall. Flynn and Roderick watched as hundreds of Arl Howe's soldiers filed by in a grim march. Each man was in full battle dress.
A warning tickled persistently in the back of Flynn's mind. She called out to one of the soldiers near the end of the line as he passed by, "Ser, why is the company in full armor? Did you encounter trouble on the road?"
"There were..bandits..Miss," he stuttered.
"How odd. I've never heard of bandits brazen enough to attack an entire battalion of soldiers," Flynn pressed. The knight shuffled uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze.
"Dangerous times," he mumbled.
Flynn's stomach churned uneasily as they watched the man scuttle back to his position in line.
"You have that terrible worried look on your face... You know the one that makes you look like your mother." Roderick teased. He had been able to read her feelings since they were children. It was insufferably annoying sometimes.
"Still think I'm being paranoid?"
"That was strange, I'll give you that," he said as the last man disappeared out of sight into the keep. "But you won't have to put up with Arl Howe for long. We should be heading out at first light tomorrow morning."
Roderick was right. There was no reason to ruin their remaining time together with pointless paranoia and what-ifs. She pushed away her dour thoughts and turned to face him. "Roderick, will you please do me a favor?"
"Anything," he looked up at her steadily.
Her lips almost brushed his ear as she leaned in close to him. "Seeing as I won't be there in Ostagar to save you, as usual... please try not to do anything too stupid..." She smashed a handful of mud into his face and leapt to her feet cackling.
"Oh come on!" he howled and spat out a large chunk of sod.
"You never should have insulted my mother!" she laughed and fled towards the main hall to avoid the barrage of mud he was flinging at her retreating backside. She tore through the entrance hall door and collided with a wet thump into the Arl. He glowered at her venomously as she pealed her muddy clothes away from his.
"Oh my, how clumsy. Here, allow me," she said as she attempted to wipe the muck from his ornate tunic with her sopping handkerchief, succeeding only in smearing the mud further into the expensive fabric. "You know it's really not so bad," she chuckled as she stepped back to examine her handiwork. "Brown is actually quite fetching on you."
"Bryce, you're daughter certainly has grown...amusing," the Arl grumbled to her father who was standing by the fire with a striking older man in polished plate armor. His seemingly disapproving glare barely masked the laughter dancing in his eyes.
"What can I say; she inherited her mother's good looks and my appetite for mischief." He walked over and affectionately placed an arm around her shoulder. "She's right you know; Brown really does bring out your eyes quite nicely."
"Bryce, this is Antivan silk, not a burlap sack!" Arl Howe spat angrily.
"Oh, don't be such a stick in the mud, Rendon. Nan will be able to get that stain out before tonight's banquet. She should be somewhere near the servant's quarters."
Arl Howe nodded curtly. He glowered at Flynn as he stormed away towards the kitchen.
"I'll never understand why you keep that rat on your counsel, father," Flynn muttered.
"Oh, come now, Flynn, his family is one of the most respected and influential in all of Fereldan. Besides, Arl Howe is not so bad... once you get past his greasy hair and foul temperament that is."
"Respected or not, you have to admit that he is so, so...shifty eyed! He's always lurking about like some sallow horror from a story book," she huffed.
"It's a shame you feel that way..." he said giving her a sly grin, "He's always prattling on about uniting our families through marriage. As a matter of fact, he's been begging me for months to allow him to bring his son Nathanial to the keep to meet you."
"Ugh, you told him no, I hope?" Flynn blanched.
"Oh, but think of the beautiful shifty-eyed babies you would have together," he teased. "Well then, I suppose I'll just have to leave the match-making to your mother."
"Maker, no," she laughed. "Mother has terrible taste in potential suitors."
"Hey now, she picked me!" her father cried indignantly.
"As I said, terrible taste in suitors." She nudged him in the ribs and his bright baritone laughter filled the room.
"Flynn, there is someone I would like you to meet." Her father led her back to the handsome stranger standing near the hearth. The man's long grey-streaked hair was tied back with a piece of leather and a gnarled dragon tooth dangled from his ear. He gave her a warm smile as they approached and Flynn self-consciously felt her cheeks begin to burn.
"This is Duncan; He belongs to the Fereldan Grey Wardens." Her father grinned at her, "I may have mentioned them once or twice?"
Flynn's heart stopped. A grey warden. A real life grey warden was standing right in front her. She had worshiped the heroes of legend since her father sat her on his knee when she was a child and told her the story of the first blight. Over the years, she had devoured every book in the castle that mentioned them and pled with her father to retrieve more each time he went to the capitol. She rubbed her eyes to make sure that the collision with Roderick had not rattled her senses. "It is such an honor! I am a huge admirer. Well not of you specifically seeing as we just met and that would be unsettling...but of the Grey Wardens," she babbled. She extended her mud-smeared hand and the Warden took it affably.
"Duncan is here recruiting for the order. He has his eye on Ser Gilmore."
Flynn's smile faltered and she slowly released her grip on Duncan's hand. "That's... wonderful," she stammered.
Duncan looked at her appraisingly for a moment. "You know Bryce, I happened to observe Flynn training with Ser Gilmore and the other knights this morning. She shows exceptional skill and talent. Might I be so bold as to say that your daughter might also make an excellent recruit?"
"Father, may I also be as bold as to agree?" She gasped. She did not wait for a response before continuing, "I will just assume it is decided then? Fantastic, I will go pack my things right away!" She turned and tried to make her escape.
"Not so fast, Flynn. I appreciate the offer Duncan, but my daughter will not be accompanying you."
"Please father, I beg you at least consider it," she pled, "I am a better shot with the bow than any knight in your service. I mean for Maker's sake, you have me teach your men courses on stealth and survival."
"You have duties you must fulfill here. Besides, we both know your mother would have my head if I even entertained the idea."
"But father..." she sputtered.
"Enough Flynn, I will hear no more talk of joining the wardens." His tone was still light, but there was a note of finality in it that implied she was never going to win this battle. "Now stop sulking and go get cleaned up for supper."
"Yes sir," she sighed.
"Oh and fair warning, pup, your mother has gathered a horde of new suitors to introduce you to this evening."
"I'd much rather face a horde of darkspawn," she grumbled and stalked off down the hall. She began to round the corner towards her chambers when she spotted her mother approaching with a crowd of well-dressed nobles. She fled back down the hall, just managing to duck into her brother's room and quietly shut the door before they could notice her.
"Oh for Maker's sake!" her mother cried out angrily. "Who tracked mud all over my new Orlesian carpets!?"
She listened until she heard angry footsteps retreating towards the banquet room before releasing a heavy sigh of relief.
"In trouble again, Aunt Flynn?" a soft voice inquired.
She turned to find her nephew Oren seated on the ground surrounded by a battalion of toy knights.
"Aren't I always?" she smiled at him mischievously.
"Look at what father gave me before he left yesterday!" He handed her a member of his tin-cavalry and puffed up his chest proudly. "Now I can command knights, just like father will at Ostagar!"
"Well Oren, you might want to give them the order to cover that right flank before the dragon attacks," she said gravely.
He looked up at her with wide blue eyes, "What dragon, Aunt Flynn?"
"This dragon!" she roared, stomping towards him. He squealed with laughter as she lifted him into the air and spun him around.
"You better watch out dragon! I'm a mage!" He cried and began to hurl imaginary lightning bolts at her. She fought the imaginary onslaught bravely, until she pretended to take a direct hit to the heart and fell to the ground snarling and dying in an exaggerated fashion. Oren squealed and leapt on top of his kill triumphantly.
"FLYNN! What in the Maker's name are you doing? Unhand my child, you are getting him filthy!" An indignant voice barked. Flynn looked up at her aggravated sister-in-law as she leered down at her from the doorway.
"I'm sorry Oriana, but Oren started it. I mean look at him," she said pinching his cheek, "How could I possibly help myself?"
Oriana shook her head exasperatedly. "I swear Flynn, if it's not one thing with you, it's another. I had to bathe him four times last week after your little adventure together in the pig pen."
"He had never seen piglets! It's not my fault that he fell in...Well not entirely my fault." She gave him a sly wink. His hand flew to his mouth in an attempt to muffle his giggles.
"I'll clean everything up after supper, Oriana, I swear." She knelt down and ruffled Oren's hair. "Don't forget to close up that flank, soldier."
Flynn scouted the hall for her mother before retreating to her room. She discarded her armor in a heap at the door and examined herself in the looking glass with a disgusted scowl. Roderick was right; she looked like a drowned dog. She had been up since dawn running the knights through drills and working on hand-to-hand combat with Roderick. Her slight frame was battered with bruises and covered in a thick layer of grime.
She was pleased to see that one of the servants had drawn her bath. Flynn hardly considered herself a creature of vanity, but the warm water was exactly what she needed to wash away the aftermath of the day's training. She stepped in and groaned contentedly. It seemed she had just gotten comfortable when her mother rapped impatiently on the door and gave her a curt warning that dinner would be served at the top of the hour.
Flynn sighed and begrudgingly stepped out of the tub. She pulled on a simple tunic and her favorite worn trousers. Her mother would be livid if she showed up to supper in pants, but perhaps she could grab a plate and slip out before she noticed. If there was one thing Flynn hated more than the constant barrage of suitors, it was the constraint of a corset. She braided her wavy chestnut hair into a long plait and pushed her bangs back from her hazel eyes.
"Much better," she said after a final evaluation in the mirror. She opened the door to the hall to find Roderick mid-knock. "I knew you couldn't stay away for long," she said, giving him a crooked smile.
"Don't flatter yourself woman. Your mother sent me to fetch you; she is with lady Landra and Darian in the study."
Flynn smacked her palm to her forehead. "Oh maker no...Not that twat," she groaned. Recently, her mother had taken to parading a string of nobleborn men through the castle in hopes of finally convincing Flynn to settle down. Darian was her mother's latest futile attempt. He stood a half-foot shorter than Flynn and had a faint, wispy moustache he liked to stroke luridly as he stared at her. "Please put me out of my misery," she grabbed one of the silverite daggers she concealed in her waistband and pointed it at her heart dramatically, "Here just get it over with."
"Sorry Flynn, I enjoy watching you squirm too much to let you off that easy. Besides, Darian wanted me to let you know that he has been 'yearning' for you," he snickered nefariously.
"Gaaaah! Can't you just duel him to the death in my honor? Hell, maybe I'll get lucky and you'll finish each other off."
"Ha! Duel for your honor? What honor?" he scoffed.
"Oh, I'll show you honor alright!" She lunged forward and grabbed him around the neck, attempting unsuccessfully to put him into a headlock. He pried her loose, wrestled her to the floor, and pinned her arms down to the ground with his legs.
"Cry pardon!" he shouted as he began to tickle her mercilessly.
"Never!" she cawed between shrieks of laughter.
"Flynn Rowan Cousland!" an impatient voice snapped furiously. "What in the Maker's name are you two doing?"
Roderick looked up and the color drained from his face. He rolled off Flynn and leapt to his feet, his eyes cast down sheepishly. Flynn spun around to find her mother glaring daggers at the duo. Lady Landra and her son Darian stood behind her, their mouths gaping open in matching looks of haughty indignation.
"Mother! Roderick..I..mean, Ser Gilmore and I were just...Umm," she floundered, eyeing him pleadingly.
"What she means to say, my lady, is that we were... practicing?" Roderick finished lamely.
"YES! Practicing! For the darkspawn!" Flynn interjected, a little too enthusiastically.
Her mother raised an eyebrow, "So you two will be tickling the blight away?' Ser Gilmore, shouldn't you be preparing to meet with Duncan?"
"Yes, my lady," he replied hastily. He threw a final sympathetic glance to Flynn as he ducked down the hallway.
Her mother narrowed her eyes at Flynn threateningly and turned back to her guests. Flynn felt like a lamb being led to slaughter. "Flynn, you remember Lady Landra and her son Darian."
"Of course, how could I forget?" She mumbled through gritted teeth. The mother-son duo had been skulking about the castle for the past few months. So far, she had been mostly successful in avoiding his feeble courting attempts. He had nearly managed to corner her into a conversation about a week ago, but she made a daring escape by jumping out a second story window into the courtyard well. It had taken Roderick nearly two hours to fish her out.
"My lady, may I say that your loveliness never ceases to amaze me. Your haunting hazel eyes vex me during my sleeping and waking hours," Darian simpered as he reached limply for her hand...it was disturbingly moist.
"Oh maker, here we go again," she muttered under her breath, apparently loud enough to earn a nasty glare from her mother.
"Eleanor, my Darian just cannot stop talking about your daughter!" Lady Landra tittered. "It is always Flynn this, and Flynn that. I think I hear wedding bells in the future!"
Flynn suppressed the urge to gag as the woman wiped a smudge from his cheek with a spit-covered finger.
"Oh, if only we could be so lucky," her mother said breathily. "Landra you must pardon us, but Bryce is expecting us in the hall shortly. I will come to your room as soon as we have finished the formalities." She grabbed Flynn's arm and practically dragged her back down the hallway away from her guests.
"Mother, I..." she began but her mother herded her into a deserted hall and slammed the door shut behind them. Flynn braced herself for the impending tongue-lashing as her mother spun to face her.
"Honestly, Flynn, I have no idea what has gotten into you!" She hissed, "Your behavior lately has been beyond reproach!"
"Beyond reproach? Well, best ship me off to the chantry before I burn the keep down then. I hear the Denerim order is especially tough on degenerates of my level," she said lightly in an attempt to defuse the uncomfortable situation. Her mother was clearly not amused.
"This is exactly what I am talking about, Flynn! Everything is always some foolish joke to you. Why must you fight me on everything?"
"I'm not fighting you, mother. I just wish that you would take my feelings into consideration before trying to pass me around from suitor to suitor like a tray of pastries." She tugged at a loose string on her tunic and shuffled uncomfortably. Her mother sighed and sat down heavily in an archaic armchair, sending a decade worth of dust motes soaring into the air. Flynn watched as they drifted upwards, wishing very much that she could join them as they escaped through an open window.
Her mother rubbed her face tiredly. "Do you think I enjoy needling you about this? You have turned your nose up at nearly every noble born son in the entire kingdom of Fereldan! I'm at my wits end, Flynn!"
"It's not my fault that every noble born son of Fereldan is a complete and utter twat."
Her mother's lip quivered lividly. "You will be twenty-two years old on your next birthday, the members of the Court are beginning to talk!"
"Well, Maker, we wouldn't want that now, would we," Flynn said acidly. "Why is this so important to you, mother? Is it too much to ask that I be allowed to find love when I'm ready?"
"I wish it were that simple, Flynn," she sighed, "I know you did not choose this life, but please try to understand how things must be. You have a duty to your family and people to uphold tradition."
Flynn threw up her arms angrily, "Do I have absolutely no say in my own fate?"
"This is about that Gilmore boy isn't it?"
"What?!" Flynn sputtered furiously, "You are joking, right?"
"Oh for Maker's sake, I'm not blind, Flynn. You have grown far too close to him. I mean really, do you have any idea how mortifying it was to find you tangled together on the ground in front of our guests like two...two...dogs in heat!" She finished irately.
"Mother, it's nothing like that! Ser Gilmore is just my friend; He is like a brother to me!"
"It is quite obvious that he is infatuated with you, Flynn, but you are the daughter of a Teryn and as such you are expected to marry someone equal to your station."
"You mean like that prat, Darian? Mother, I know I haven't been the ideal daughter, but that is just cruel."
Her mother stood and closed the distance between them, "Keep your voice down! I will not have you humiliate me further in front of our guests! I have no more time to stand here arguing with you about it. Go straighten your hair, and for maker's sake, Flynn, put on a dress!"
Flynn nodded brusquely, threw open the doors to the hall and practically sprinted back to her room. She slammed the door shut behind her and collapsed onto the edge of her bed. Hot, bitter tears began to stream down her face. As much as she loathed admitting it, her mother's words had a harsh sting of truth to them. Most of the noble born girls her age were married and already starting a family. Much to her Mother's chagrin, Flynn had never taken to the opulence of Court, preferring instead to spend her time in the woods or training with Roderick. She had always been close to her mother but the constant bickering about Flynn's tomboy behavior was beginning to drive a wedge between them.
As for Roderick...She supposed she could understand her mother's assumption. The two had been practically joined at the hip for the past ten years. His father, one of the Cousland family's banner men, was killed during the war with Orlais when Roderick was nine. Her father took Roderick in as a squire soon after. They had been inseparable ever since.
Throughout their years of friendship, she had never even entertained the idea of their relationship becoming romantic. There had been rumors of course, but they had always laughed them off. They were proud of the fact that they never let themselves get swept up in the ridiculous courtship rituals of their peers. Whenever her family would hold a banquet, they would liberate a bottle of wine from the cellar and sneak up to the rafters to mock the doe-eyed girls and tight-laced boys who fawned and pawed at one another. Her mother's accusation that Roderick was hiding an infatuation with her was absurd...Wasn't it?
Over the past few weeks, Flynn had also begun to notice something subtly changing between them. She had initially shrugged it off as anticipation for his upcoming deployment to Ostagar, but deep down she knew it was something more. They had trained together for years, but now when his hand lingered while correcting her fighting stance or when he would brush her hair back from her eyes, it felt different. Like something unspoken was passing between them. Was it possible that she had been trying to fool herself about the way he felt for her? Or perhaps even the way she truly felt for him.
"Dammit, this is ridiculous!" she sobbed.
As if on cue, the door to her room crashed open and Roderick burst in.
"Flynn, your mother is in a lather and she sent me to...fetch... you," he stopped uncomfortably. "Why in the makers name are you crying?"
She grabbed a pillow and flung it at him furiously. "Haven't you ever heard of knocking!?"
"Flynn, what's wrong?" He knelt in front of her and turned her chin up to face him. She refused to meet his eyes.
"Nothing, it's stupid and I don't want to talk about it."
"Fwooo!" He exhaled dramatically, "Well good, because you are a really ugly crier. I don't feel so terrible laughing at you if there is nothing wrong."
She honked a noise somewhere between a sob and a laugh.
"Now really, what's the matter? You know you can tell me anything." He smiled warmly and pushed her bangs back from her eyes. "I promise to only judge you a little bit."
"This is going to sound crazy, and please don't laugh until I've finished, but my mother is under the ridiculous impression that you have...feelings...for me." Flynn waited expectantly for his laughter, or at least a witty retort about her being almost as attractive as an ogre...anything other than the terrible silence that now hung in the air. "Oh Maker, I knew I shouldn't have said anything," she said bitterly. She stood and tried to make a break for the door but he caught her by the hand and pulled her back towards him.
"Your mother is quite perceptive," he swallowed nervously.
She stared up into his gold-flecked eyes and was, for perhaps the first time in her life, speechless.
"Flynn, I've loved you since the moment I set eyes on your scrawny, freckled face when we were children and I most certainly love the beautiful, remarkable woman you have become."
"I suppose I am pretty remarkable," she joked lamely.
"And let's not forget how humble you are..." he laughed and gently wiped the lingering tears from her cheeks, "I've been holding back from telling you out of fear that it would ruin our friendship...and that you would punch me in the face." He grinned and pulled her closer. "But now that I'm heading out tomorrow towards almost certain doom, perhaps it's time I throw caution to the wind…Fair warning, Flynn, I'm going to kiss you now."
Flynn was too stunned to put up any resistance as he began to lower his face to hers. Just as their lips were about to brush, a piercing scream ripped through the silence, startling them apart.
"What in the maker's name was that!" Flynn cried.
She snatched her bow from its peg on the wall and drew an arrow. The sound of ringing metal echoed down the hall. Roderick pushed Flynn behind him protectively and slowly opened the door.
"Maker!" he cried and slammed the door shut as an arrow thudded into the solid oak.
"Flynn, the castle is under attack! You need to hide!" He grabbed her by the shoulders and frantically tried to stuff her under her bed.
"Roderick, for Maker's sake, stop shoving! I am not going to fit under there and I am certainly not going to hide! I'm coming with you!"
A soldier crashed through the door brandishing a heavy mace, he grabbed Roderick by the collar and swung the mace back. Flynn yanked back her bowstring and instinctively loosed an arrow directly into his heart. The attacker collapsed to the ground in a heap. None of her training could have prepared her to watch the life drain from the soldier's eyes. She stared down at his body in disbelief, paralyzed by the shock of what she had just done.
Roderick rolled the man onto his back. "Flynn, Look at the sigil on his shield! This is one of Arl Howe's men!"
Arl Howe was attacking her family. Her instincts had been right. Fury replaced her stunned terror. She stormed into the hallway, oblivious of anything but the sound of her bowstring snapping and men crumpling to the ground. They managed to take out six more soldiers before the others began to retreat down the hall.
"The cowards obviously expected to take us by surprise," Roderick spat as he tried to regain his breath. More sounds of struggle were coming from every direction in the castle. "Most of our soldiers deployed yesterday with your brother for Ostagar. The castle will not hold for long if Howe's entire force is attacking!"
"Oh Maker, what if they went for Fergus's room first!" Flynn cried.
She tore down the hall to her brother's quarters and threw open the door. Flynn bit down on her hand to hold back a shriek of horror. She was too late. Her sister-in-law and nephew were sprawled together on the floor surrounded by a spreading pool of blood. Both of their throats were slit from ear to ear. Flynn stumbled to her knees as the room began to spin around her.
"Flynn, please, I need you to look at me," Roderick pled.
She finally tore her gaze away from her nephew's body and looked up at him numbly.
"Arl Howe is obviously trying to take the castle in a bid for power. We have to get you and your parents out of here immediately."
He gently grabbed her by the arms and brought her back to her feet. He smoothed down her hair as she sobbed into his shoulder.
"He's not going to get away with this Flynn," Roderick said softly. He took her face into his hands. "I promise."
Flynn leaned down and gently closed Oren's lifeless eyes. She wiped a streak of blood away from his freckled nose and felt something inside herself harden. She grabbed her bow, willed herself to her feet, and slipped with Roderick out the door down the blood-spattered hallway. They burst through the chamber doors and began to fight their way back towards the main hall to find her parents. Her mother suddenly stumbled backwards out of a doorway and Flynn intuitively fired an arrow into the throat of a man pursuing her with a hatchet.
"Oh thank the Maker, Flynn! I thought they had gotten to you first," Her mother tried to pull her back down the hall to Fergus's room. "Quickly, we must find Oren and Oriana and flee to Denerim at once!"
"Mother, Oren and Oriana are gone."
"What do you mean, gone? Flynn, what do you mean, gone?!"
Flynn could not meet her mother's eyes. She shook her head and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Oh Maker, please no, not my sweet Oren!" Her mother grabbed her by the arms to keep from collapsing. "What kind of a monster would kill an innocent child?"
"Arl Howe," Flynn snarled. "The only thing we can do for them now is to make sure that snake suffers."
Her mother nodded coldly and fought to regain her composure.
"Where is father?"
"The main hall. They were trying to hold off a battering ram when I ran to fetch you."
"Well then, we shouldn't leave him waiting."
Roderick took point as they sprinted down the hall towards the courtyard. Smoke began to billow through the corridor. Arl Howe's men were setting fire to the outside gates. It wouldn't be long before the entire castle went up in flames. Flynn picked off stray attackers with her bow and slammed down the heavy oak bar over the doors to the hall to keep others from pursuing. They found her father and the few remaining soldiers frantically trying to hold back the main doors to the keep. A battering ram pounded into them rhythmically.
"Flynn, Eleanor, thank the Maker!" her father gasped. A long gash in his side was dripping blood onto the marble floor.
"Father, you're wounded!" Flynn cried as he staggered towards them.
"It's nothing Flynn. There is not much time before they break through," he panted and took Roderick by the shoulders. "Roderick, listen to me. I need you to take Flynn and Eleanor to the larder. There is a secret tunnel hidden behind the cupboard that leads out of the castle to the backfield. You must protect them."
"With my life," he swore.
"Bryce, we are not leaving without you," her mother wept.
"I will only slow you down; you have to go now, without me!"
"Like hell we do," her mother growled. She flung her husband's arm around her shoulder and began to drag him with her back towards the kitchen. Even facing certain death, Flynn was shocked by such an unexpected outburst from her usually prim and docile mother. She whirled around as the doors to the great hall finally gave and splintered open. The Cousland guards could barely hold back the flood of soldiers that poured in.
Roderick drew his sword and began to run towards the doors. "Go! I will hold them off as long as I can!" he shouted.
"No Roderick, you have to come with us!" She begged and desperately tried to tow him back towards the larder with her. "Please...I'm not going to leave you here to die."
"Flynn, I'll be fine. I promise. Your parents need you, so go. And please...stop crying, you look terrible." He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead lightly. "I love you, Flynn."
She could do nothing to stop him as he disappeared into the bedlam.
"Flynn!" Her mother's strained voice cried over the clamor.
She grabbed her father's other arm and they staggered down the hall to the larder. Flynn frantically hauled sacks of dried goods from on top of the trap door and yanked the rusted hinges open to reveal the gaping mouth of a dark tunnel that disappeared deep into the earth.
"Come on, we have to go now!"
Her father took a step towards the tunnel and collapsed to the ground, clutching his side. He leaned back against the larder wall desperately gasping for air.
"Father? Please, we're so close." She knelt in front of him and took his bloodied hand.
"The castle is surrounded, Flynn. I cannot go on."
"I am afraid the Teryn is correct my lady," a low voice said from behind her, "Howe's men surround the castle. It is mere chance that they have not discovered this passage yet."
She wheeled around, drawing an arrow to find the grey warden standing in the shadows of the doorway.
"Duncan, I beg you, take my daughter and wife to safety," her father pled.
"I will, but I fear I must ask something in return. I came here seeking a recruit. The darkspawn threat demands I meet it." Duncan looked to Flynn.
"I understand," Her father rasped.
Her mother helped her to her feet, "You must go with Duncan, Flynn."
"Mother, no! You have to come with us!" she pled.
"I will not leave your father alone to die by that monster's hand. I will hold them off as long as possible to buy you time to escape." She took Flynn into her arms and smoothed her hair. "Flynn, make Arl Howe pay for what he has done."
"I love you both so much," she wept.
"We know sweetheart," her mother whispered.
Duncan took her hand and guided her into the darkness of the tunnel. The trap door thudded shut hollowly behind them.