The Couslands of Highever

A/N: I make no claim to any of the characters in this story – they belong to others, and I simply borrowed them for a while. I hope I didn't tarnish them in the process.

This is a retelling of the main events of the game from the point of view of a Cousland Warden, and as such will include spoilers for the human noble origin and the entire game. There will also be occasional segments from Alistair's POV in later chapters. Much – although by no means all – of the dialogue will be taken from the game.

There aren't going to be any big surprises or any dramatic changes to the storyline, but I hope showing the events through my character's eyes will add enough to make it at least a little bit interesting to others. This story was originally written for myself only, but I've been encouraged to post it, so here it is. If you want to read more, please let me know!

Rated T for now, but might go up to M in later chapters.

Any comments/reviews will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading.

oOo

Alessa Cousland hesitated for a moment outside the main hall. Normally she would answer a summons from her father without delay, but she was less eager to greet his guest. Arl Rendon Howe might have been her father's friend for countless years, but she had always disliked the man; there was a meanness in his eyes sometimes that unsettled her.

She hoped he hadn't brought his family this time. His mousy wife was pleasant enough, but she didn't say much, and never seemed to be happy. And his children... Alessa grimaced. Delilah looked down her nose at... well, just about everyone, but especially Alessa, who failed to meet her rigid standards of "how a lady ought to behave". As for the taciturn Thomas – in spite of an apparent dislike of Alessa that he had never troubled to hide, during his last visit he had taken to watching her in an almost predatory manner which made her skin crawl. And to make matters worse, she suspected the arl entertained ideas of the two of them marrying – a notion Alessa viewed with great distaste. Only the younger brother, Nathaniel, despite his occasional dark moods, was ever good company – but he had been in the Free Marches for a few years now.

She couldn't put this off forever. With a heavy sigh, she pushed open the door and entered the hall.

The two men were reminiscing about old times as Alessa walked up to them. It was Howe who noticed her first, and at his glance her father turned his head, smiling.

"I'm sorry, pup," Teyrn Bryce Cousland said. "I didn't see you there." He looked at his guest. "Howe, you remember my daughter, of course?"

Howe bowed slightly to Alessa, his eyes raking her from head to toe. "I see she's become a lovely young woman," he commented to the teyrn, in a tone that made her want to shudder. "Pleased to see you again, my dear," he added to Alessa.

She smiled politely to cover the insincerity of her reply. "And you, Arl Howe." She glanced around the room. "Is your family with you?"

"I'm afraid not," Howe answered, and Alessa relaxed fractionally. "But my son Thomas asked after you. Perhaps I should bring him with me next time."

Alessa couldn't help herself. "To what end?" she asked neutrally.

"Ha!" Howe barked a laugh. "'To what end', she says! So glib, too. She's just like her mother when she talks like that."

Alessa frowned; she wasn't sure she liked the idea of Howe talking about her mother that way.

Her father, however, didn't seem to mind. Casting an indulgent smile on Alessa, he said, "See what I have to contend with, Howe? There is no telling my fierce girl anything these days, Maker bless her heart."

"Mmm," Howe murmured, his tone disapproving. "No doubt because you've trained her as a warrior."

"At any rate, pup," the teyrn said to Alessa, "I summoned you for a reason." If he'd heard Howe's comment or noticed his tone, he wasn't acknowledging it. "While your brother and I are both away, I'm leaving you in charge of the castle."

"But, Father!" Alessa protested. "Can I not go into battle with you and Fergus?"

Bryce Cousland smiled gently at her. "I'm certain you'd more than prove yourself, but I am not willing to deal with your mother if you join the war. She'd have my hide if I let you go. She's already twisted into knots about Fergus and me going."

Alessa sighed. Anyone who knew Eleanor Cousland knew that arguing with her once she'd made up her mind about something was futile. And Bryce Cousland was not likely to defy his wife on this.

It was so unfair, she thought. Like many Fereldan noblewomen, Alessa's mother had trained in fighting skills, just as Alessa herself had; by all accounts she had been very capable, too. Eleanor had always maintained that it was the 'softer arts' that had caught her husband's eye, but from the admiring way that Bryce Cousland spoke of his wife's talent for archery and her ability with a sword, Alessa privately doubted her mother's assessment.

Now, however, she seemed to think only of marrying Alessa off to some noble's son. She disapproved of the amount of time her daughter spent on her swordplay, and would never agree to Alessa going off to fight against darkspawn.

Alessa sighed and bowed her head. "Very well, Father. I'll do what you think is best."

"That's what I like to hear," the teyrn said, smiling. "Now, only a token force is remaining here, and you must keep peace in the region. You know what they say about mice when the cat is away, yes?"

Alessa nodded.

"There's also someone you must meet," her father said. Turning to a guard, he added, "Please, show Duncan in."

The guard exited through the door on the far side of the hall, and Alessa waited curiously; she hadn't been aware that they had any guests besides Howe and his retainers.

The guard soon returned, escorting a dark haired man. He wore armour that Alessa judged to be well-made – and also clearly well-used in spite of the elaborate designs chased into the breastplate – and bore a sword and a dagger in crossed scabbards on his back. He was not young, and his bearing spoke of one experienced in battle, while his eyes held the wisdom earned from those battles.

The man bowed to her father. "It is an honour to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland."

"Your Lordship," Howe interjected petulantly. "You didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

A Grey Warden? Here? Alessa involuntarily drew herself up in respect.

"Duncan arrived just this morning, unannounced," the teyrn replied, sounding surprised at Howe's evident annoyance. "Is there a problem?"

"Of course not," Howe said, glancing at Duncan. "But a guest of this stature demands certain protocol. I am... at a disadvantage."

How typical, Alessa thought. Most would simply be honoured to be in a Grey Warden's company, but Howe thinks only of a missed opportunity to show himself off to his best advantage.

"We rarely have the pleasure of seeing a Grey Warden in person, it's true," acknowledged the teyrn. "Pup, Brother Aldous taught you who the Grey Wardens are, I hope?"

"Of course, Father." Those had been some of the more interesting lessons. "They defeated the darkspawn long ago."

Duncan smiled faintly. "Not permanently, I fear."

"Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation could have been overrun before we'd had a chance to react." Her father paused, and added, "Duncan is looking for recruits before joining us and his fellow Grey Wardens in the south. I believe he's got his eye on Ser Gilmore."

Oh. Alessa was equal parts proud and disconcerted at the news. Ser Roland Gilmore was the most skilled of her father's knights. Alessa had known him most of her life, ever since his father had sent him to squire for the teyrn as a young boy; he'd trained alongside Fergus, and had often encouraged Alessa in her own training in the arts of battle. For many years, he'd been almost like a second brother to Alessa – but, of late, she'd begun to wonder if he might not become something else.

It was all Fergus' fault. Alessa would never have started to think that way about the knight had not her brother begun to tease her about the long, lingering looks that Roland had supposedly been casting in her direction lately. Alessa still hadn't decided how she felt about that, except that it made it incredibly awkward to be around the man now.

Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. She could just imagine how her mother would react to the idea of a teyrn's daughter being courted by a mere knight, even one as trusted and honourable as Ser Gilmore.

It was a pity, really. Roland had far more to commend him in Alessa's eyes than many of the useless noble suitors her mother had tried to throw in her path, some of whom could barely swing a sword.

"If I might be so bold," Duncan spoke, breaking into Alessa's thoughts, "I would suggest that your daughter is also an excellent candidate."

Three heads turned towards the Grey Warden in shock.

Bryce Cousland recovered his equilibrium first, and took a step forward, as if to place himself between Alessa and Duncan. "Honour though that might be, this is my daughter we're talking about." His tone was polite, but chilly.

Alessa remained silent, too surprised to speak out.

"I've not so many children that I'll gladly see them all off to battle," her father added. His expression grew guarded. "Unless... you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?"

Alessa's eyes flicked from her father to the Grey Warden. The Right of Conscription was rarely used in Ferelden, she remembered from her lessons. She wondered what her father would do if Duncan decided to invoke it now.

"Have no fear," Duncan said reassuringly. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I've no intention of forcing the issue."

The teyrn relaxed noticeably, and turned to Alessa. "Pup, can you ensure that Duncan's requests are seen to while I'm gone?"

"Of course."

He nodded. "In the meantime, would you find Fergus, and tell him to lead the troops to Ostagar ahead of me?"

"Yes, Father. Do you know where he is?"

"In the chapel, perhaps," her father replied. "Or, more likely, upstairs in his chambers – spending some last moments with his wife and my grandson." He smiled at Alessa. "Be a good lass and do as I've asked. We'll talk more soon."

Alessa would have preferred to stay and speak with the Grey Warden, but she bowed to the three men and took her leave.

She went to the chapel first, but, unsurprisingly, Fergus was not there. Of all the Couslands, Fergus was perhaps the least devout.

Mother Mallol was praying with two of her father's soldiers. Alessa bowed her head respectfully, and after the prayer was finished, the cleric approached her. "Have you come to pray for your brother and father? I'd be happy to ask for the Maker's blessings with you."

Alessa didn't consider herself especially devout, but her father and Fergus were going off to fight darkspawn, after all. A little divine intervention couldn't hurt. "I would appreciate that, Mother Mallol." She knelt, and Mallol repeated her blessing. When she had finished, Alessa thanked her and left in search of Fergus.

As she rounded a corner, however, a familiar voice startled her.

"There you are, my lady," Ser Gilmore said. "Your mother told me the teyrn had summoned you, so I didn't want to interrupt."

Alessa turned to the flame-haired knight with an awkward smile. "You were looking for me?" She'd been planning to speak to him before he left with her brother and the rest of the teyrn's men, but hadn't yet had the opportunity to seek him out.

Or perhaps she'd been unconsciously postponing it.

"I fear your hound has the kitchens in uproar again," Ser Gilmore laughed, gesturing over his shoulder.

"Oh," Alessa said, feeling faintly disappointed, and then silently berating herself for her foolishness.

"Nan is threatening to leave," he added, more seriously.

She sighed. Nan would never actually leave, of course – the cook was just blowing off steam, not for the first time. But Alessa was going to have to smooth some ruffled feathers, it seemed. "Did Dane get into the larder again?"

He nodded. "No matter how the maids try to keep him out, he always finds a way in." He smiled. "You know Mabari hounds; he'll listen to his mistress, but anyone else risks having an arm bitten off."

Alessa shook her head. "He knows better than to hurt anyone."

Ser Gilmore shrugged. "You're probably right, but I'm not willing to test that." He sighed. "You're quite lucky to have your own Mabari war hound, you know. 'Smart enough not to talk', my father used to say. Of course, that also means he's easily bored."

Alessa nodded, grinning. "Nan swears he confounds her just to amuse himself."

Ser Gilmore laughed. "At any rate, your mother would have me accompany you until the matter is settled. Shall we?"

Feeling slightly annoyed that her mother felt she needed a personal guard for such a matter, Alessa responded only with a nod.

"To the kitchen then," Ser Gilmore said, gesturing for her to take the lead. "I think I can hear the yelling from here!" As he fell in behind Alessa, he added in an amused tone, "When Nan's unhappy, she makes sure everyone knows it."

Nan was indeed screeching at a pair of elf servants when they entered the kitchen. Ser Gilmore took a step toward her. "Calm down, good woman. We've come to help—"

"You!" the cook interrupted him. "And you!" she added furiously, turning on Alessa. "Your bloody mongrel keeps getting into my larder! That beast should be put down!"

Ser Gilmore glanced nervously at Alessa; he'd never been able to get used to Nan speaking that way to the teyrn's daughter. Alessa just smiled. Nan had been her nanny long before she'd been the castle's cook, and Alessa was used to the woman's ways. Her bark had always been worse than her bite. "He's not a mongrel, he's a pureblood Mabari," Alessa pointed out tolerantly.

"A blight wolf is what he is!" Nan huffed. "How am I supposed to work like this? I'll quit! I'll go cook at some nice estate in the Bannorn."

"Nan, please," Ser Gilmore said soothingly. "We'll get the dog. Calm down."

Nan shooed the elves out of the way and then crossed her arms, muttering darkly under her breath. With a sigh, Alessa entered the larder with Ser Gilmore following.

"Look at that mess," Ser Gilmore groaned, gazing at a sack that had been split, its contents spilling out onto the floor. "How did he even get in here?"

Dane – named so by Alessa for the legendary hero said to have owned the pack of wolves that the Mabari war dogs were descended from – was indeed inside. At Alessa's entrance he barked excitedly at her, then bounded towards the corner of the larder, growling.

Alessa frowned. "What it is it, boy? Are you trying to tell me something?"

Ser Gilmore glanced at the dog, and then at Alessa. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?" He looked round sharply at a sound from the corner. "Wait, do you hear that?"

Dane barked again, and started scratching in earnest at some sacks in the corner. Disturbed by the dog, a whole pack of giant rats suddenly streamed out from behind them, snapping at them.

Instinctively, Alessa drew her sword, silently thanking the Maker that she'd answered her father's summons directly from her training, instead of changing first. Ser Gilmore already had his own sword out, and between the two of them and Dane, the rats were swiftly dealt with.

"Giant rats," said Ser Gilmore, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's like the start of every bad adventure tale my grandfather used to tell." He looked at Alessa. "Your hound must have chased them in through their holes. Looks like he wasn't raiding the larder after all."

Dane barked enthusiastically in agreement, and Alessa smiled. "So it seems."

They returned to the kitchen, and one of the elves shrieked as she caught sight of the mess behind them. "Oh, mistress! There are rats in the larder! Big ones!"

Nan rolled her eyes. "I suppose you're going to tell me that dog killed them?" she said, sounding unimpressed. "Hmph. I bet he led the rats in there to begin with."

Alessa exchanged a glance with Ser Gilmore, and shook her head when he opened his mouth to speak.

Dane whined, and Nan looked at the dog scornfully. "Oh, don't even start with the sad eyes. I'm immune to your so-called charms."

Dane whined again, and the woman's expression softened. "Here, then. Take these pork bits and don't say that Nan never gives you anything! Bloody dog..." She walked off, muttering, and Alessa grinned at Ser Gilmore. It wasn't the first time she'd seen Dane win over the cook that way.

Ser Gilmore shook his head in amusement as they left the kitchen. "Too smart to talk, indeed." He slowed to a halt and turned to Alessa. "Now that the crisis is resolved," he said with a wry smile, "I'd best be on my way; I'm to prepare for the arrival of more of the arl's men."

"Should you not be preparing to march with my brother?" Alessa asked in surprise.

He sighed. "I would be, were it my choice. Your father has decided I should remain with the complement guarding the castle." He sounded a little disappointed; he would never openly question his teyrn's orders, but Alessa knew he couldn't be happy about watching others go off to war while he remained behind..

"I hope it's because this Grey Warden wishes to see me," Ser Gilmore added, and Alessa nodded distractedly. One way or another, the knight seemed determined to leave. Perhaps she was just being foolish, after all, and the attachment she'd fancied that he felt was simply in her head, conjured up by Fergus' teasing remarks.

"What will you do if the Grey Wardens try to recruit you?" she asked, to distract herself from such thoughts.

"I take great pride in serving the teyrn, my lady," he answered seriously. "Still, if I had the opportunity to join the Grey Wardens, I wouldn't hesitate."

"You would leave my father's service?" Alessa asked sadly. If nothing else, she would be sorry to lose such a good friend.

Ser Gilmore nodded. "With his blessing, I imagine. Joining the Wardens is the highest service one can render." His eyes shone, and Alessa smiled. His pride at the prospect of being recruited was clear, and she couldn't help but share in it.

"And what of you, my lady?" he added.

"Me?" Alessa asked, confused.

Ser Gilmore smiled. "What if this Duncan tries to recruit you? Have you thought about it?"

"Oh." Her thoughts went back to Duncan's earlier comments on the subject. "He did say he thought I would make a good candidate... but my father told him no, and that was an end to it." She laughed self-consciously. "I think perhaps he was only being polite, in any event. Why would the Grey Wardens want to recruit me?"

"Begging your pardon, my lady," Ser Gilmore replied, his tone suddenly earnest, "but you are no ordinary noblewoman. You're strong, skilled, and easily the equal of any man, on the field or off. The Grey Wardens would be fools to overlook you."

Alessa looked at him in surprise. She'd rarely heard such fervour in his voice. "I... thank you."

He reddened slightly. "It's too bad your father will not allow it. It's unlikely that the Wardens would risk your father's wrath." He drew himself up. "Your pardon, my lady, but I must take my leave – there is much to be done."

"Of course," Alessa said, and he bowed to her before spinning on his heels and striding off.

With a sigh, Alessa headed up to the family's private rooms in search of Fergus. As expected, she found him in his chambers with Oriana and little Oren.

"Is there really gonna be a war, papa?" Oren was asking. "Will you bring me back a sward?"

Fergus smiled at his son's mispronunciation. "That's 'sword', Oren. And I'll get you the mightiest one I can find, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish victory was indeed so certain," Oriana said quietly. "My heart is... disquiet."

"Don't frighten the boy, love," Fergus said gently. "I speak the truth." He noticed Alessa waiting in the doorway, and smiled at her. "And here's my little sister to see me off. Now dry your eyes, love, and wish me well."

"I'm intruding," Alessa apologised. "I will wait outside."

Fergus shook his head. "Stay. I'd like to say farewell."

Alessa walked swiftly to her brother and hugged him. "I wish I could go with you."

"And I wish you could come!" he grinned. "It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself."

Alessa punched his arm lightly for his teasing tone, and he laughed.

"In Antiva, a woman fighting in battle would be... unthinkable," Oriana frowned.

Fergus raised his eyebrows in amusement. "Is that so? I'd always heard Antivan women were quite dangerous."

Oriana smiled affectionately. "With kindness and poison only, my husband."

Fergus chuckled. "This from the woman who serves me my tea!" They all laughed.

After a moment, Alessa recollected the reason she'd come. "I bring a message – Father wants you to take your men and go ahead without him."

Fergus nodded soberly. "Then the arl's men are indeed delayed. You'd think they were all walking backwards." He sighed. "Well, I'd better get under way then." He turned to his wife. "I'll see you soon, my love."

"I would hope, dear boy, that you planned to wait for us before taking your leave," Bryce Cousland interjected from behind Alessa, and she turned to see both her father and mother entering the chambers.

"Be well, my son," Eleanor Cousland told Fergus. "I will pray for your safety every day you are gone."

"You could have delivered your message yourself, Father," Alessa pointed out in amusement.

He smiled at her. "And miss having both my children in one place before we leave? Not likely."

"The Maker sustain and preserve us all," Oriana said. "Watch over our sons and husbands, brothers and fathers, and bring them safely back to us." She gazed at Eleanor and Alessa, who both nodded back at her.

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it," added Fergus. He caught his wife's disapproving glance, and coughed. "Err... for the men, of course."

"Fergus! You would say this in front of your mother?" chided Oriana, and he grinned at her, unabashed.

"What's a wench?" asked Oren, causing his father to cough again, this time to cover up a snort of laughter. "Is that what you pull on to get the bucket out of the well?"

Fergus reddened, and it was the teyrn who answered. "A wench is a woman that pours the ale in a tavern, Oren." He paused, then added with a grin, "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale."

"Bryce!" exclaimed their mother. She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes at Oriana. "I swear, it's like living with a pair of small boys."

Fergus chuckled. "I'll miss you, Mother dear." He turned to Alessa. "You'll take care of her, 'Lessa, won't you?"

Alessa smiled. "I think Mother is more than capable of taking care of herself."

Fergus nodded. "That's true. They should be sending her, not me. She would scold those darkspawn back into the Deep Roads." He winked at Alessa, who couldn't help grinning back at him.

"Well, I'm glad you both find this so funny," huffed their mother.

"Enough, enough!" laughed their father. "Fergus, it is time, my son."

Fergus nodded, and then hugged everyone once more.

"I'll miss you, little sister," he murmured to Alessa. "Take care of everyone... and be here when I get back."