Prologue: The Vigil
1
At dawn, Mhairi left her camp behind. It had not been much to speak of: a small fire in a little clearing just off of the road. The fire was out and the ashes and burned tinder covered in dirt and scattered. Her rough blanket was rolled up and shoved back into her small pack. She slept in her armor—just worn and hardened leather for this excursion—and not especially well. But as she made her trek down the dusty road, there was a jaunt in her step.
Of the sundry soldiers and recruits currently housed at Vigil's Keep not many had volunteered for the lonely—and perceived lowly—task of acting as guide to the Vigil's incoming guests. And certainly none had volunteered more enthusiastically than Mhairi. While it was true that her duties during this assignment consisted primarily of walking all evening, camping alone, and walking all morning in order to report to a guard captain somewhere in the procession and likely get only the barest glimpse, if that, of the actual guest of honor, Mhairi could not help but be excited.
No matter how far removed from the woman's presence she would be, Mhairi was still technically acting as guide to Brighid Cousland. Or rather Brighid Theirin, nee Cousland: Hero of Ferelden, Warden-Commander, and queen. That alone was worth any and all of the trouble of this errand. When she got the assignment, Rowland teased her and called her a hopeless idealist as was his wont, but Mhairi knew that he had volunteered as well.
They were soldiers first and foremost and they had all been struck in different ways by Loghain Mac Tir's treachery. He had been more than a hero. He was a symbol of all that was great and good about Ferelden and her people. For him to be a regicide, to have attempted to usurp the very throne he had almost single-handedly restored to the Theirin bloodline by ending the Orlesian occupation… It was unthinkable. His disgrace left a vacuum, but their new royals immediately stepped in to fill it. As far as Mhairi was concerned it felt incredible to even consider. Where she might have found herself aimless and shattered by the upheaval of all she believed in, instead she found new inspiration. No, being guide to such a woman—a living legend—as Queen Brighid was not a chore at all.
Mhairi had been walking for little more than an hour when she heard shuffling in the nearby brush. Her hand immediately went to the sword at her hip. Tense seconds passed before a family of hares appeared and skittered across the road a few yards down from where Mhairi stood. A pair of fawns followed them. Mhairi chided herself; few of unsavory character would dare to prey on the roads so near to the Vigil. What had she been expecting? Still, she was interested in what exactly had set the animals shuffling about so. She continued around the bend in the road and her question was immediately answered. In the near distance, she could see a small patrol of men huddled just off the road, the twin dogs and golden crown of the royal standard clear on their shields. Mhairi briefly took a few steps into the forest and peered between the trees. She could just make out flashes of color and movement, bright tents and soldiers milling about.
She returned to the road and quickened her pace as she approached the cluster of guards.
"Oi!" she called out in warning so as not to startle them. They were still wary as she neared, so she made certain to present the folded piece of parchment—complete with the seneschal's seal—that held her orders immediately. The senior among them was a very tall, very thick, fresh-faced young man called Willem who led Mhairi deeper into the camp.
By Mhairi's count there was a troop of at least two dozen soldiers, their crude, but neat tents and sleeping areas flanking another small circle of tents which must house the half dozen or so servants running about. And in the center of the camp sat the largest and most well-appointed tent, blazing golden and red. A guard stood at its flap and a pole was thrust into the ground beside it, bearing yet another rendition of the royal standard of Ferelden and House Theirin. Willem was silent and serious, and Mhairi had expected to be taken to his captain. She balked when he headed directly towards what could be none other than Queen Brighid's tent.
The guard let him pass without comment and Mhairi only hesitated briefly before ducking slightly and walking past the threshold herself.
Upon doing so she nearly tripped over a huge mabari hound, curled up on the floor just inside the tent. It snorted, shifted its massive head slightly and returned to its nap. Mhairi tiptoed around it carefully as she went to join Willem where he stood, awaiting acknowledgement.
Mhairi had seen the Queen of Ferelden on multiple occasions before, but solely from afar. When the king, selected but not yet coronated, presented her to his armies before they marched to face the darkspawn horde. After the archdemon was defeated, when she stepped out onto the balcony from the palace's throne room and acknowledged her future subjects while the streets of Denerim rang with elated cheers. And less than two weeks before Mhairi left for the Vigil, when Queen Brighid stepped out of those same doors hand-in-hand with King Alistair on their wedding day, as the nation celebrated once again.
That faraway figure resolved itself into an actual person before her now. As all reported, she was very pretty. Her dark hair was pulled up into a bun at the crown of her head with only a few strands escaping in the front, leaving her strong, patrician features unobstructed. She was leanly muscled and broad-shouldered. Tall as well, obvious even though she was sitting at a table erected in the center of the tent. Her long legs stretched out beneath it, clad in well-tailored leather pants. She was also barefoot, Mhairi noticed, which felt bizarrely intimate.
A well-ordered man with long reddish-brown hair stood in front of her, silver armor gleaming, and seemed to be completing a report about the camp's status. He also seemed a bit tired. This, Mhairi realized, must be the captain.
"You have visitors, Perth," the queen said, interrupting. Though Mhairi got the feeling she hadn't much been listening in the first place. She looked down to scribble something on one of the papers spread out before her on the table as the captain turned to regard Mhairi and Willem. On cue, Willem bowed and Mhairi immediately followed suit.
"Your Majesty," Willem said. "Ser Perth. This is the guide from Vigil's Keep, just arrived."
At this, the queen's interest returned quite keenly to the goings-on in the tent.
"And what a timely arrival it is," the queen said. She waved her hand and Willem immediately backed out of the tent. "What is your name?"
"Mhairi, Your Majesty," she replied immediately, attempting to beat back the rather overwhelming and ridiculous urge to blush now that the queen's sharp-eyed gaze had turned to her.
"Mhairi, do tell. How far is it from here to Vigil's Keep?"
Ser Perth exhaled heavily and Mhairi looked at him a bit wide-eyed before responding.
"Under half a day's walk along the road, Your Majesty. Less than that if one takes certain cuts through the forest."
"Good," Queen Brighid said, looking quite satisfied. "We will leave immediately then."
"Your Majesty, the camp will not be packed up for hours yet," Ser Perth interjected, though it seemed to Mhairi that he expected little to come of this objection. "And your horse is not fed or watered."
"I have two working legs. Furthermore, I said that I was going," the queen pointed out as a servant girl who had been sitting near the pallet in the corner handed her a pair of boots. "The camp may do whatever it likes."
"Yes, Your Majesty. I will assemble the guard."
"No."
"Your Majesty," Ser Perth said, looking quite put-upon. "The king would be very displeased were you to go traipsing off through the forests of Amaranthine with no guard."
"It is a good thing then that the king is not here," Queen Brighid replied.
"Half a dozen guardsmen, Your Majesty, please." There was a long pause as Ser Perth looked at his queen beseechingly.
"Three," the queen said, stomping her foot into her boot. "And you should be more wary of my displeasure, Perth. I will take Willem and two others. Now begone and cease nagging me."
Ser Perth smiled at this as he bowed. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
He departed then, navigating around the mabari which had apparently given up on its napping. It trotted over to Queen Brighid and butted its head against her side. She capitulated to its demands and scratched behind its ears as its stubby little tail wagged furiously. Mhairi stood by awkwardly, given no command, but not having been dismissed either. The queen spoke again suddenly, breaking the silence.
"Zevran," she said conversationally. Mhairi thought for a moment that she was speaking to the mabari, but then an elven man materialized from the far corner of the tent where Mhairi had not noticed him at all before. His clothes were simple, but finely made. His long light blond hair hung down his back. Parts of it were arranged in intricate patterns of braids pulling it away from his face, the tan skin of which was accented with various sweeping and complex markings. He was every bit as beautiful as he was wildly foreign. Mhairi wondered if he was Dalish, though he seemed too…urbane for that as he proceeded smoothly to the queen's side.
When he spoke, it was with a thick Antivan accent.
"Yes, my queen?" he asked.
"Do make sure that dear Ser Perth doesn't suddenly become confused about how many makes three, would you?"
"Of course." He swept out of the tent then and, Mhairi could have sworn, winked at her as he passed. The queen rose and went over to her pallet—which Mhairi now saw was fitted with a feather mattress—and dismissed the servant girl.
"Come help me with this," the queen commanded and Mhairi, being the only one left present besides the dog, assumed it was her being addressed. She crossed to where the queen stood regarding sundry pieces of armor that the servant girl must have been tending. Queen Brighid pulled off the vest she had been wearing, leaving only the white cotton tunic belted at her slender waist, then nodded to Mhairi to attire her.
"Handmaidens are well and good for making sure silks hang just right and lacing undergarments. Unfortunately, I have yet to succeed in translating that prodigious ability into properly strapping up armor," Queen Brighid explained.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Mhairi said just to be saying something, though most of her concentration was focused on not fumbling as she tied on the queen's greaves. The queen pulled on her bracers as Mhairi retrieved the cuirass and faulds. The pieces were attached and very light. Their base was leather overlaid with panels the size of Mhairi's palm. They looked onyx at first, but upon closer inspection were an extremely dark green. They were hard, but both their consistency and the way they had been layered together left the entire piece flexible. Mhairi buckled her in silently, double-checking all of the fixtures. When she was finished, the queen checked the straps and fit herself before nodding. Mhairi handed her the pair of scabbards that sat on top of a trunk at the foot of the pallet and Queen Brighid put these on herself. The longsword went between her shoulders, its hilt peeking over the right one, and the much smaller, but still large, knife went crosswise at the small of her back.
"Let's get going then, before Ser Perth tries to harry the entire procession into following us, camp pulled up or no," Queen Brighid said.
"Come on, Knight." At that the mabari barked twice and preceded them out of the tent.
"I believe Ser Perth is only concerned for your safety, Your Majesty," Mhairi said without thinking. Her breath caught in her throat when the queen looked at her. She did not seem angry, thankfully.
"Ser Perth has stood at my side while we defended a village from hordes of the undead with the most meager of forces. He knows very well that I can take care of myself. He is simply over-attached to doing his job."
"That is an admirable quality though, Your Majesty, is it not?"
"Certainly," said the queen. "When it is not inconveniencing me."
Mhairi did not know what to say in response to that, so she said nothing at all.
The queen continued through the camp without stopping and headed straight for the road. Ser Perth awaited them there at the forest's edge, accompanied by Willem and two other soldiers. The elven servant, Zevran, was there as well and, Mhairi realized with mild shock, was evidently coming along if the red velvet brigandine he had donned since leaving the queen's tent was any indication.
"I hope we're ready," the queen said as she pulled up even with the group.
"We are, Your Majesty," Willem said, absolute devotion writ plain on his face. Mhairi suspected that was why the queen had named him specifically and why Ser Perth had not argued further. It was clear that Willem would face down three archdemons by himself before he would allow a single hair on the queen's head to come to harm.
"We shall set out after you within a few hours," said Ser Perth. "Though it will be a slower journey for the procession."
"I am well aware," the queen said, checking something in one of the packs set on the road before nudging it towards one of the guards, who immediately put it on her back.
"Maker watch over you, Your Majesty." Ser Perth sketched a genteel bow and the queen inclined her head.
"Thank you, Perth," she replied. She turned down the road, then paused.
"Mhairi," she commanded and Mhairi, remembering herself, took a few long strides to walk in front of the queen and lead her towards the Vigil.
