Prologue: The Fallacy of Trust
"Father! Father! Is Delilah and Natty with him?" Bryce glanced down at his youngest son, always full of merriment and excitement whenever Arl Howe decided to visit. The Teryn knew his son didn't care much for Rendon himself, preferring instead to play with his friends, Howe's children. Thomas, for whatever reason, remained distant from the Couslands, rarely, if ever, visiting.
"Yes, son. I can see their carriage from here. Your best friend and your one true love, right?" Saul nodded enthusiastically. "You going to marry Delilah?" Another fervent nod. Bryce laughed. "I can arrange that, you know."
"Can you? Can you pleeeeeeeease?" The little Cousland was getting too excited now, grabbing Bryce's pants so fiercely that he feared they'd slip right off. What an embarrassment that would be, what with the soldiers about!
"Of course I can, but you need to do something in return." Bryce knelt down, coming to eye level with his small son.
"Anything!"
"Go help Nan clean our fancy plates." Moaning and groaning, of course. "C'mon. The elves always make it fun! You know you like their singing when they work."
"Fine..." Saul, ever the dramatic one, hung his head and turned, walking slowly away. For added effect he purposefully lost his balance, catching himself on a wall and huffing in exasperation. "My heart, it's failing... can't...breathe..."
"Then you'd better hurry and do those dishes, lest you die first!"
ooo
"Sleep well, my beauty." Saul leaned in, his lips lightly brushing against Delilah's, his hands tracing her body as she pressed against him. Their parting was, as always, unwelcome, bringing nothing but sadness to both. Saul broke away, brushing away tears from Delilah's eyes, smiling. "Will I see you tomorrow, before you leave?"
"You know my father..." She looked down and away. Arl Howe was never one to allow his daughter to sleep around, even if it was with the son of a good friend. Saul hadn't ever liked the Arl much, but truthfully never talked to the man, his presence merely a distant authority figure that put holes in his plans to be with Delilah on a regular basis. "He wants gone before sunrise, as always."
"That doesn't give you very long to sleep." Saul sighed. Maybe he shouldn't have called for her after all, if his actions would only bring her misery if she struggled to stay awake during the day. "Are you sure you'll be fine?"
Delilah smiled, nodding, before kissing Saul again. She departed without another word, a silent goodbye between them. They both hated saying it, as it implied permanence. To say goodbye would be accepting that they would not see each other again the next day. It would be like admitting defeat.
Saul stood in the doorway long after his love departed, an aching feeling clawing at his heart. He had enjoyed the last week, as Delilah visited with her father, as well as Nathaniel and Thomas, for Saul's sixteenth birthday. Of course, he and Delilah had snuck off to participate in more...unorthodox activities, ones Arl Howe and Teyrn Cousland would both disagree to.
Delilah visited only a few times each year, usually on Saul's birthday or other major holidays when she could convince her father to let them come. Arl Howe was strict, but Delilah knew he cared about her. Saul had only ever visited their keep in Amaranthine once because of his protectiveness, but he was awed by the splendor of it. There were also plenty of private areas for the two to have fun with.
Falling back on his bed, Saul gazed at the ceiling. How he wished he could escape this life! He could wander the land, protecting Delilah from bandits with his bow, saving people, slaying dragons and whatnot. Yet...that could never come true.
His father always called Saul an realist, not an idealist, and though the teenager never admitted it, Bryce was right. Saul knew, somewhere inside, that he would be burdened with the mantle of being a Teyrn's son for the rest of his life, and would possibly even inherit the title. There was no escaping.
Moaning, the boy turned over, burying his face in his pillows. If only Delilah was still here, then he'd have something to hold.
ooo
Saul shuffled, barely managing to keep himself upright as the guardsmen pushed him from behind.
"Watch it, asshole! I'm the Teyrn's son!" Anger clawed at him. Saul wanted nothing less than to see this guard hanged for how the man was treating him. So he dug into a Lady Cecilia's panty drawer, stole a few jewels, and he killed her dog. Who cares? The dog wasn't even mabari, so it was useless!
"Yeah, yeah. You keep saying that." Obviously the guard didn't believe him. So now what? Were they going to toss him in a cell to rot for the rest of his life? Cut his hand off? Kill his dog? No. Saul would never let them get Octavius. That dog was much better than that mutt Saul silenced.
"I'm telling the truth!" The guard pushed him inside the cell, closing the door behind him.
"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't. I sure as hell don't care." And he left, just like that.
Would father even know? Would he ever be free?
ooo
"Maker! I'm so glad you're okay!" His mother wrapped her arms around Saul, pressing his head against her bosom. "How were you? Did they hurt you? What happened?"
"Don't coddle him, Eleanor. He's deserved what he got." Bryce walked in, arms folded, a grave look of disappointment on his face.
"Oh, don't be angry at him, Bryce. You were worried sick when he didn't come home two days ago."
"I'm not angry."
"Yes you are."
Saul maintained his silence, as he had been all of the 48 hours he'd been stuck in this damp, stinking hole. He had thought he was going to die in here, alone and forgotten. How stupid of him.
"We'll talk more at the castle. Guard, help my son up." Bryce looked back at Saul, still staring at the ground in shame. "Maybe this will teach you not to break the law. If I wasn't the Teyrn, you may well have been left in there the rest of your life."
How unfair... But that's life. Saul sighed, standing. He didn't listen to his father rant about what he could and could not do as a noble. Saul was already formulating a plan for the next time he robbed Lady Cecilia, and next time he won't be punished.
It isn't illegal unless you're caught. Saul kept that close to his heart.
ooo
"Dear Maker, brother. I'd think you'd be a little less obvious about this sort of thing." And there was Fergus, standing in the doorway to the storage room. Delilah tore herself from Saul's arms in embarrassment, but Fergus had already seen what he needed to. "What would Arl Howe think, huh?"
"Aren't we already going to be married for some political reason? We're going to wind up together anyways, so why bother conforming to some old man's foolish protective nature?" Saul intimidatingly took a step forward. "You'd better not tell them."
Fergus was unimpressed.
"Don't threaten me, kiddo. I'm bigger than you, stronger too. Why, if I had..." Fergus' voice stopped with the air rushing out of his lungs, pushed out by the impact of Saul's shoulders on his stomach. They grappled, each trying to pull the other to the ground, but Fergus was too strong, and Saul too quick, for either to get into a dominant position.
"Foolish...brother..." Saul huffed out, straining the difficulty of fending off his brother. "You know...I can...beat you in a fight."
"You can certainly try!" By then Delilah had disappeared, and Saul was no longer in any danger. But, being brothers, they had to outdo one another, so they continued.
It took awhile, but eventually the elven servants managed to pull them apart, with the help of a half dozen guardsmen, of course.
They were tied.
ooo
"Steady, keep your elbow positioned just like that. Ignore the weariness in your arms, these are strong bows after all." Ser Lowan stood by Saul, talking to him in a low voice while Saul concentrated on the target. "When you think you're ready, fire."
Saul hesitated for a moment before firing. His arrow dug into the frame of the wooden target, as much of a bulls-eye as Lady Cecilia was attractive. Which she wasn't.
Wait, then why did he bother digging through her panty drawer?
"Good shot, considering you're not in an actual fight. Pull something like that in battle and you'll be dead before you can say so." Damnable Lowan. The man was nice enough, and Saul enjoyed spending time with the soldier, but he was harsh in his teachings.
"You might as well say 'You suck.', you know? I can take that much." Saul's arms drooped, his spirit defeated.
"But you don't suck! What other man could miss the target so spectacularly?" Lowan roared, laughing, a deep bellowing, friendly sound. Eventually he quieted down, wiping tears from his eyes. "Everyone starts like that, though. I'm sure you'll be a master if you kept at it."
"I wish."
ooo
Sweat running down Saul's neck, his heart racing. This was more nerve wracking than the first time he stripped Delilah. And he did that with his teeth!
Mentally fortifying himself, Saul forced his arm to stop shaking, his eyes to focus on the target. The championship was on the line here, and if he won...well...that would help his pride and ego a damnable amount.
"2640 feet...curse whoever thought the final round had to be a half-mile. Everyone but one person completely missed the target, and he only barely got the arrow into the arm!" Saul sighed, staring at the barely visible target. He'd have to shoot at an angle, and it was ridiculously difficult to aim like that.
Saul let go as soon as his nervousness peaked, one pant away from a mental breakdown. The arrow soared into the air, arcing in the air, and then falling.
The crowd was silent for those few, terrifying seconds. Saul's arms fell, his gaze focused on the straw man so far away.
Saul's arrow struck home, straight on the bulls-eye. The crowd erupted into wild cheers, and Saul could see a smile crossing his father's face. Bryce was proud, and that made him happy. He also saw Ser Lowan, disbelievingly shaking his head and smiling.
Bow dropping from his grasp, he collapsed on the ground. Those years of practice had worked. He was only twenty and already could be considered a master archer.
Now if only there was a competition of thievery...
Saul smiled. He'd just have to break into another house and make sure he was still a master lockpick, as a celebration. Saul was sure Delilah would reward him for winning as well. He could already see her smiling shyly at him from within the noble's box.
Maker, this was a fine day.
ooo
"I've told you before I don't believe in the Maker, Mallol." Saul rolled his eyes, simultaneously making an impression that he was hanging himself.
"Your soul is lost indeed, then. How sad that you will remain in ignorance for the entirety of your life." Mother Mallol paced in front of him in the empty Chantry room. It had always annoyed Saul to high heaven that his father and mother wanted a place to pray in at their own castle.
"My 'soul' is not lost, only your arrogance demands that you think so." Saul laid down on the bench, exasperated. He'd gone through this many times before with the woman, and she never seemed to understand that he was not some poor, wretched thing simply because he thought Andraste and the Maker were bullshit.
"When you die, what do you suppose happens, if you're correct?"
"How the hell should I know? Who's supposed to find out these sorts of things?" Saul just wanted to get the annoying woman away from him. "You agree that humans can't discover this on their own, right? So why do you follow the word of some crinkled dead woman who happened to get burned at the stake?"
"Don't speak so foully about Andraste! She is your savior, and you would do well to remember that!" Mallol was outraged now, just like she usually got when someone disagreed with her.
"Great. Blind yourself to reality. Go ahead and wrap yourself in a cloak of logical fallacy, if that helps you cope. I don't give a shit about Andraste, okay?"
Mother Mallol stormed out, seething. Saul sighed. Now his mother and father would get mad because he was supposedly being disrespectful.
"So much for religious tolerance." Saul groaned, forcing himself to stand up. "Apparently atheists don't apply."
ooo
"We...can't do this any more." Delilah looked down and away. What was she saying? What did she mean? She can't be... "My father...knows about us. We can't continue. I'm sorry. He even... called off our engagement."
"Wait...Delilah! No!" And she just walked out. Saul was being abandoned by the woman he loved; the woman he thought he'd spend the rest of his life with. An aching feeling crawled into his chest. Fuck Howe! Why did he have to decide how his daughter lived his life?
Saul unleashed his anger in form of fist against wall, the impact cracking one of his knuckles. Saul didn't care. The pain in his heart was worse.
Why didn't Delilah put up a fight? Didn't their relationship matter? Sinking to his knees, desperation gripping him, Saul could do nothing but cry.
ooo
"What's with your dog? He seems so...angry." Damn it. Why'd Iona have to wake him up? She was such a bore since he met her earlier that day, talking about nothing but her daughter Amethyne. She was attractive, so Saul had to do something with her, but was putting up with her annoying nature worth the sex?
"Then go put Octavius outside..." Saul rolled over, but his eyes shot open as he fell off the bed, slamming into the cold stone floor. "Fuck...I'll be lucky if I manage to sleep after that."
"Can you...can you do it? Your dog is scaring me." Iona shifted on her feet nervously, glaring at the dog. Saul, evidently not caring, just fiddled with his bow, which he kept under his bed at all times.
"Just open the door, he's been trained..." Saul notched an arrow, aiming at the wall, pulling the bowstring back until it was right to his ear. Perfect form, of course. He was trained by the best.
"Alright then." He heard Iona's footsteps, and the lock being undone by her hand.
Little did Saul know that in only a few seconds time Iona would be dead, and his life changed forever.
ooo
"Mother's dead... Iona's dead... Oren and Oriana too..." Saul leaned against the wall, buckling up the last strap to his leather armor. He knew he would soon follow them, but there had to be a way out. He couldn't simply lie down and die!
Saul slammed the wall with his first, tears streaming down his face. "Why would Howe do this to us... Delilah wouldn't...she couldn't have...known...?"
It all made sense now, but what could he do? Saul was trapped here, in the Cousland Castle. He was safe for the moment, but he knew more soldiers would come. He needed some better armor, so that he could at least put up a fight before he was slaughtered. Fingering the key to the treasury he took from his mother's corpse, Saul slowly walked down the hallway.
Why was he still afraid of death, despite what had happened?
ooo
The arrow struck the mage dead in-between the eyes. Normally Saul would feel satisfaction at such a perfect shot, but given the circumstances...
"Saul! My lord! It is good to see you still live!" Ser Gilmore motioned the remaining soldiers to bar the door, swiftly moving closer to the young Cousland. "Do you know where the Teyrna is? Bryce was looking for her when he came through here."
"My mother is dead...murdered while she slept." Saul's voice was monotone. So much death was...overwhelming. He didn't know what to think, how to feel, how to act. "Arl Howe betrayed us, he attacks while the army is away!"
"That bastard!" Ser Gilmore stomped his foot, glancing at the doorwar. "But there is still a chance for you to escape. The Teyrn told me of a passage in the cellar, maybe you know of it."
"I do." Although it seemed distant by now, Saul remembered using the passage to sneak out of the house to pilfer the houses of unsuspecting noblemen in Highever. "Come with me, Gilmore. You should survive, at least."
He only shook his head. Saul's spirits shrunk even further.
"My place is here with my men. My sworn duty is to protect you, and that is what I shall do. If I must die so you may live, so be it." Gilmore grabbed Saul's arm, pulling him close. "It was a pleasure serving you, my lord."
Saul nodded dumbly, knowing Gilmore's fate. Another body to add to those already fallen.
ooo
The Family Blade slit the knight's throat easily, sliding in between the crease in the armor and out just as quickly, blood spilling out over Saul. That was that last of the soldiers between him and the cellar. He had to move quickly.
The young Cousland felt grim satisfaction as he looked at the corpses around him. With the help of two soldiers he had recruited along the way, Saul was alive, and nearly out of the castle.
The soldiers gave their lives for him, Ser Gilmore was defending the main doorway. Iona died, inadvertently saving Saul's own life.
Why did so many have to die for his sake?
He had to take vengeance. He had to restore their honor. For his Mother, for Oren, for Oriana, for everyone who died so that Saul may live.
Saul gripped the handle to the cellar. The Howes, every last one of them, must die.
ooo
Despite his vow, leaving his own father behind was something that tore at Saul. Bryce was wounded, near dying, and all he thought about was the safety of his son. Such honor, and such conviction...
Saul knew he should have stayed, he should have fought, to defend his home...but he couldn't. Turning around, Saul gazed on the burning castle, smoke rising into the night sky. There were no more screams now, each one silenced by the hands of that murderous bastard, Rendon Howe.
He would die, and die slowly. So would Nathaniel, and Thomas, and his wife, and...and even Delilah.
Yes. They all deserved it. Each and every one of them.
Those murderous thoughts occupied his mind for the rest of that night as he fled, and the entirety of the next day, and the next. He fled in the direction of the Circle Tower, hoping to find some degree of sanctuary there. Hopefully, he could rest and supply there, and then...
And then what? How could he get to Howe? Where would Howe be? Saul needed information, location, defenses, vulnerability, everything.
The Couslands would have their revenge.
ooo
Ser Lowan screamed as the thumbscrew turned, crushing his middle finger and index finger. The knight begged, pleaded to be let go, that he'd tell Saul everything that he knew, just so that he could be free from the pain.
"Oh, I'll free you from the pain. Don't worry." Saul spoke in low tones, a false comfort. He took no pleasure from this, despite the effort involved in capturing the Captain of Arl Howe's guard. Soon he'd have the location of the Arl's family, who'd die first, before he moved in and slaughtered the main bastard himself. But he still felt no satisfaction watching this man suffer. It was undoubtedly because he only served the Howe's, he wasn't one himself.
Temporarily letting the thumbscrew loosen, Lowan gasped, his back arcing against the pain. Saul was briefly worried that the table Lowan was chained to wouldn't hold, and the man would break free, but he dismissed them as wild, careless thoughts.
"You will tell me where Arl Howe and his family are, won't you? You will also tell me why your company of men was separate from his main battalion. I also want any other information you view as important. If you lie, I will know, and you will suffer more." Saul smiled to add to the effect. Ser Lowan was terrified, his eyes wide with panic and pain, sweat dripping from his body.
"The Arl is dead... Please, he's already gone, don't do this."
"You lie!" Another turn of the thumbscrew. Ser Lowan's face contorted with a silent scream, his body trembling.
"I...I..." Saul let the thumbscrew go loose again, waiting a few moments for the soldier to regain his composure. "I speak... the truth. His family has been dishonored, Saul. I'm not part of his army any more! Please, just let me go! I have a wife and two kids!"
"I don't care what family you have." Another turn. Another scream. It was almost getting repetitive. Howe was dead? If it's true, then what purpose does Saul have? Why did he bother killing Lowan's men and capturing the knight? Was it all in vain?
No. It wasn't. His goal was to kill all of the Howe's, not just Rendon. He still needed information about the rest of the family, so they could die too.
"Fine. If Howe is dead, what about his wife and kids?"
"They...went into hiding...after the Battle of Denerim. Last I heard, his wife died of shock, or some such thing. Thomas disappeared, but he's dead, I think." Saul rubbed his temples. Why was his work being done for him? This wasn't supposed to be how it worked. He wanted to watch each one die in agony, their faces contorted hideously with pain. Now he'd never get that... "Nathaniel...vowed revenge against...the Grey Wardens...for the murder of his father. He left after that, with his armor and weapons ready. He...had a vendetta...and he said he'd see it through to the end."
"And Delilah?" A slight twinge in his heart. Saul pushed it down, like he did every time he thought of her in the past year, ever since he saw the bodies of his family.
"You'd even kill her?" Lowan struggled against the chains, his eyes fearful. "I thought you two loved each other. You always had! Why would you do this?"
"Because she is a Howe. She needs to die." Saul narrowed his eyes. "You will tell me where she is, Ser Lowan, or you will suffer the same fate as they!"
"I...cannot... I...She has done nothing wrong." Lowan's eyes were in tears now. "Don't do this...please... You can just walk away..."
"Can my family walk away, after what Howe has done?" Saul sighed, relaxing the thumbscrew completely. "I don't need you anymore, if you won't tell me anything."
"Will you...let me go...?" Lowan's eyes had a slight twinge of hope in them. Better correct that.
"You already know the answer to that, Ser Lowan." Saul smiled, drawing his dagger, licking the blade.
Lowan's dying screams could be heard for miles.
