A/N: This won't be a cover to cover story, it will cover different moments in Origins between different characters. I love requests so please chime in, though keep in mind I will keep the Cousland/Leliana romance. I have two other similar stories posted for DA:2 and Inquisition. They were originally all posted under one story but after a little soul searching I decided to separate them. That does not mean that characters from the other worlds will not pop up, however. Hopefully you all find this a little easier to read.
Happy reading!
The quote about the person standing next to you when your dreams come true was inspired by a One Tree Hill episode.
Bryce Cousland was the second of two remaining Teryns in Ferelden, and by far the more popular of the two. He ruled his people with a firm but fair hand, always listening to both sides of an argument, no matter how foolish or outrageous their stance might be. He was a merciful ruler, believing there to be alternatives to dealing out harsh punishments when there was a chance to do some good. Where another ruler might send a man to his death for stealing from the crown, Bryce Cousland would instead recruit the man into his army providing work and shelter for his family.
He had raised both of us his sons to hold the same standards and values. Fergus as the eldest was destined to take his place as the ruler of Highever, it would therefore be on him to carry on the legacy that Bryce had spent his entire political career developing. Even his youngest son Aedan whose path would eventually lead him to be at the head of the militia had taken to his teachings like a fish to water. He had always idolized his father from the time he was a young boy bouncing on his father's lap all the way through adolescence. He agreed with his father's approach and ideologies about politics as well as life.
All except for one: the idea of love.
Aedan had just past his eighteenth name day when his father had taken him to walk the battlements of Highever castle. It was a tradition at Highever that an older male relative would offer a piece of wisdom to a young boy each year on their name day. When they were younger it would be simple things; keep your heels down when riding a horse, keep an open mind when being taught by their tutors. As they grew older the advice would move to things such as career paths, religion, and when the time was right-love and marriage. The time had come for Aedan to have this talk with father, a topic he had avoided since the time he had first discovered his fondness for the fairer sex.
His father stood with his hand placed affectionately on his shoulder, overlooking their lands as the sun sank low in the horizon.
"Imagine a future moment in your life where all of your dreams come true. You know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the greatest moment of your life and you get to experience it with one person. Who is standing next to you? When you can see that person clearly in your mind's eye my boy, you will have answered one of life's most important questions. That is what they call love."
Aedan wrinkled his nose at the very idea that any woman would be able to tie him down. Fergus was the heir to Highever and it was therefore his responsibility to marry and produce an heir. Aedan was meant to take up arms as he leader of the armies-a hefty responsibility to be sure, but not one which required him to settle down and sire children. Quite frankly the very idea of marrying the daughter of some noble house or another terrified him more than standing at the front lines facing down an enemy army.
He was a handsome young noble popular among both noble women and serving girls. He was charming, kind, witty and was known to be generous to those less fortunate. Women would fawn over him as soon as he entered a room, giving him a plethora of beautiful young-and sometimes older, women to choose from. Once he set his eyes on someone who caught his fancy, all it would take was for him to flash a smile and a quick waltz around the dance floor before she became putty in his hands. It would take little coercing from him before she allowed herself to be led away to an empty bedroom for a night of passion.
His final night at Highever had been no different.
One of his mother's oldest friends Lady Landra had journeyed to Highever to enjoy some down time with his mother. She had brought her arrogant bastard of a son Dairren with her, a boy a year younger than Aedan whose skill with a blade did not warrant the cloud of arrogance that followed him. That was probably the reason that he had never advanced beyond the title of squire. He greeted him in a friendly manner, more in an effort to appease his mother and spare himself a lecture in the future.
His eyes fell upon Landra's lady-in-waiting, and the familiar primal urge rose up in him. He threw on his most charming smile and brought the elven woman's delicate fingers to his mouth, eliciting a fierce blush to rise up on the woman's features. He could practically feel his mother's disapproving glare on his neck, but as usual he opted to ignore it.
Everything had gone according to plan, and Iona had all but jumped at the chance to spend a night with him. All it had taken was a little small talk about her life and she had readily agreed to visit his chambers later in the night. They had spent hours together lost in their passion before collapsing against one another in exhaustion. Iona buried her face into his chest, breathing heavily.
"I have heard stories of your generosity my lord, but I was not aware that your charity extended beyond politics."
A smug grin spread across Aedan's face as he ran his fingers down her spine. It was moments like this when Aedan wondered how his brother had accepted his fate of spending the rest of his nights with only one woman. Fergus had insisted that there was a woman out there who could tame his younger brother, and their mother was ready to tear her hair out at Aedan's sexual endeavors. His father had simply chalked it up to his youth, stating that Aedan was a young man in the prime of his life and it was only natural for him to explore these desires. He remained steadfast in his belief that they would eventually find a woman that would hold Aedan's attention for longer than a single night.
Iona propped herself up on her elbow and ran her fingers seductively down his abdomen, relishing the feel of his muscles against her skin. The action send shivers of pleasure up Aedan's skin, his body wordlessly giving the signal that he was ready for her again. A mischievous glint appeared in the woman's eyes. Her shriek of surprised pleasure filled the room as Aedan flipped her onto her back supporting himself over her. She ran her fingers through his short straw colored hair, sighing with pleasure as his tongue explored her body.
The large wooden door to Aedan's room shook violently on the hinges, causing them to nearly jump out their skin. Mathias' thunderous barks came from the hallway, followed immediately by a loud cracking as the door rattled once again within the frame as Mathias threw his full weight against the door.
"What the-" Aedan began as he quickly he untangled himself from Iona and quickly threw on his breeches.
"What is happening?" Iona said reaching for her own discarded clothes.
"Wait here." Aedan said grabbing his family sword and dagger from the nearby chair. He had no sooner cracked open the door than Mathias' large frame bounded into the room. Fresh blood and dirt covered his muzzle, and his fur was wet in patches showing signs of a recent battle. A quick assessment of his companion told Aedan that none of the blood belonged to the hound. The dog's demeanor alarmed Aedan as his normally gentle natured dog had the war crazed look in his eye signature to his breed that meant he was ready to kill.
Aedan ducked his head into the hallway and his ears were met with the sound of battle. Shouting, the clashing of blades, the unmistakable death rattle as a life was cut short filled the air. He headed towards the direction of the fighting, unsheathing his blades as he ran. Mathias was right on his heels, the glint in his eye telling that he was ready to kill to defend his master.
He arrived at the scene of the commotion and paused as the chaos met his eyes. Highever's knights were in close combat with Rendon Howe's militia. It was easy to tell from his fallen charges who was winning the battle. No, not battle-massacre. He rushed forward, blades at the ready as he prepared to take down as many of Howe's men as he could. Mathias leaped into the air mouth agape, digging razor sharp teeth into the neck of the unsuspecting guard. A strangled cry escaped the doomed guard as blood spurted from the wound.
Aedan engaged the nearest guard, quickly gaining the upper hand and backing the now terrified guard against the wall. His reputation as the best swordsman in the northern region of Ferelden was well earned and he easily disarmed the untested knight, cutting off his unspoken plea for his life.
His timely intervention had allowed his own knights the advantage they needed to overpower the remaining militia. The massive broadsword belonging to Ser Gilmore lopped off the head of the only remaining Howe soldier.
"My lord, are you injured?" Ser Gilmore's voice was heavy with a concern that Aedan had never heard from his friend before.
"I'm fine Rory. But what is happening?"
"I don't rightly know my lord. I was late returning from the sparring ring when I heard a commotion at the gates. We scarcely had a moment to act before we were overrun. Four of my men were cut down before they had a chance to draw their blades."
"I need to find my parents. Howe has betrayed my father, he attacks while our men are gone."
"I need to see to the defenses, though I doubt there is much I can do. At the very least I can buy you some time to find them but then you must get yourself to safety."
Shouting and the sound of a newly formed battle arose off in the distance. Ser Gilmore looked back to Aedan, the look in his eyes suggesting that he did not expect to survive the night. "Go, my lord. We will distract them, but you must hurry."
The two men clasped forearms. "Maker be with you my friend."
Ser Gilmore nodded and they each rushed off in opposite directions to meet whatever fate awaited them.
Aedan raced back towards his chambers, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. An ear splitting scream met his ears and his pace quickened. He sent up a silent prayer to the Maker that he would not find his mother or sister-in-law dead in the hall. The door to his chambers was wide opened and he rushed inside, heedless of who might be inside.
His heart sank as his eyes fell on Iona's body crumpled on the floor; two massive arrows protruding from her small frame. A small pool of blood had already formed beneath her, spreading slowly across the floor. He knelt down next to her and tenderly wiped away a line of blood tricking from her mouth. Her pale blue eyes held his gaze for several moments before she took one last shuddering breath as the light in her eyes was extinguished for the final time.
Mathias whined as he gently nudged Iona's limp form with his massive head.
"She's gone, boy." Aedan said in a voice he did not recognize as his own.
Hurried footsteps came from the hall and Aedan instinctively reached for his blade. He rose to his feet and held the blade out in front of him, ready to kill the next person who was foolish enough to cross him. The blade swung through the air with a whistling noise, straight at the head of-
"Mother!"
His blade was deflected away by the dagger that Eleanor Cousland held in her own hand. "Maker's breath Aedan! I would prefer not to die by the hand of my own child." Aedan offered a shrug as a response and instantly felt his face flush as his mother's eyes fell on the mangled body of Iona. Her expression became somber as she looked at the deceased lady-in-waiting of one of her closest friends.
Her eyes widened as she saw the blood splattered across his bare torso. "Maker's breath are you injured?"
"It's not mine." He responded grimly. He grabbed the sheet from his bed and placed it over the body of Iona. He quickly removed the leather armor from the nearby stand and hastily began dressing, hoping that if he were to die he would not have to do so half naked.
"Why would Howe do this?" Eleanor asked in disbelief. The grip on her blade was so tight that her knuckles had gone white. The blade quivered in her grasp, though rather she was shaking from anger or fear, Aedan was not sure.
"He has always been jealous of Father." Aedan responded as he tightened the straps on his bracers. "He wants Highever for himself and intends to slaughter us all while our troops are gone."
"Have you seen your father? He never came to bed. He had been reading to Oren when-" All of the color drained from her face as her eyes became wide with fear. "Oren!" She turned on her heel and darted out of the room before Aedan had a chance to stop her.
He tightened the final piece of his armor and hurried after his mother. She ran the halls with a speed that surprised him, and with a carelessness that alarmed him. She was heedless of her own safety and did not seem to care if she ran into Howe's men or Howe himself. Her protective nature had taken over, and when it did the Maker Himself could not intervene.
They stopped dead in their tracks in front of the door leading to Fergus's room. The door had been battered open, hanging loosely off its hinges. Aedan swallowed hard against the wave of nausea that had come upon him. He slowly approached the door, but his mother pushed past him. Her strangled cry was a sound that would haunt Aedan for the rest of his life. It reached his ears and proceeded to the depths of his soul. It was the sound of a woman who had lost someone she loved-not to heartache but to the alternative.
Oriana was sprawled out, laying in a pool of her own blood. Her throat had been cut from ear to ear, the grisly wound still pouring blood out onto the floor. Little Oren was a few yards away, his wound matching that of his mother's.
Aedan's heart fell as a small gurgling noise came from the boy, and his hand raised a few inches off the ground in an unspoken plea for help. Aedan rushed forward and knelt beside his nephew. He put his arms beneath his small frame and gently cradled the boy. His mother knelt next to them, silent tears streaming down her face as she placed a hand on Aedan's shoulder. Mathias approached the child with his ears pressed flat against his massive head, he slowly approached Oren and sat on his other side. He whined and gently licked the boy's hand in the same greeting way he always had. Only this time it was to say goodbye.
Oren looked up at his uncle and grandmother, his dark blue eyes he had gotten from his mother held a plea for them to help him. Please make the pain go away. Please help me, Uncle...
His eyes still held the plea even as his eyes fluttered shut.
Aedan held the boy so tightly against him that he felt the breath leave his body. His mother pressed her hand to her mouth as tears fell freely from her eyes. Aedan's head fell forward as the tears stung his own eyes as a pain unlike anything he had ever experienced welled up in his chest.
Mathias let out a loud single noted howl that Aedan was sure could be heard all of Highever. It was something he had never heard from his companion before; it was not a howl of war, it was a howl of grief.
Eleanor leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Oren's forehead, her tears falling onto his face. Aedan lowered the boy gently back to the floor, his eyes catching the silver chain hanging from the boy's neck. He gently removed the chain and held the small medallion in front of his face. It was a small metal desk containing the crest of the Cousland family. Aedan had given it to Oren on his last name day, promising him that as long as he wore it he had the protection of Highever. Aedan promised him that if were ever in danger, all he had to do was clasp the medallion tightly in his hand and Aedan would come rushing to him.
He stared at the blood stained medallion, imagining Oren holding it in his hand praying for Aedan to come and save him. A prayer that went unanswered.
"Come on, Darling. We need to find your father before-" her voice trailed off, unwilling or unable to complete the sentence.
Aedan fastened the medallion around his own neck, vowing to wear it as long as he lived. A reminder of his own failure. He rose to his feet and followed his mother out of the room that had now been turned into a tomb. Aedan had never experienced loss before, and as he followed his mother into the hallway, he wondered why people allowed themselves to become close to anyone. Surely the loss that was felt was not worth a faux sense of security. The pain was not worth a brief period of happiness.
A loud explosion was heard heard further in the castle near the throne room.
"They have taken the entire castle." Aedan said in a hoarse voice.
"We need to find your father. And you-" she turned to him and placed her hands gently on his face. "You need to get out of Highever. No matter what happens to me or your father, you must escape. Do you hear me?"
"Mother-"
"Do you hear me?"
"Yes, Mother. I hear you."
"Then come. We must find your father, I will not abandon him to Howe's treachery."
"How? The castle is crawling with Howe soldiers, we barely have the man power to hold what little is left of the castle. I am good with a blade Mother, but even I cannot face down an army."
"I believe I may be able to offer some assistance."
The voice took Aedan by surprise, causing him to spin around raising his family blade in his dominant hand. A man a few inches taller than Aedan stood calmly before him. His thick black hair was bound behind him, a few stray hairs poking out and clinging to his sweat soaked forehead. Blood was splattered across his armor as well as his unsheathed blade which remained lowered, indicating no sign of aggression. A thick beard and mustache that would make Fergus green with envy covered his aged, sun browned skin.
"Who are you?" Aedan demanded, keeping his blade steady.
"I apologize for startling you. I had hoped to make proper introductions when I arrived, however I was delayed and arrived much later than I anticipated."
"That hardly answers my question."
The man offered a small chuckle. "Indeed it does not. I am Duncan of the Grey Wardens."
Aedan's mother placed a hand on his arm. He gave her a questioning look before slowly lowering his blade.
"Duncan, of course. I apologize for not greeting you sooner, but I am afraid our current situation does not allow for a proper welcome."
"I fear the situation is far more dire than we realize my lady."
"What do you mean?"
"I managed to get the Teryn to safety, but not before Howe's men got to him."
Aedan felt his heart sink. "Is he-"
"He lives. Though I fear his injuries are severe."
"Please Duncan, you must take us to him." His mother's voice was laced with concern.
Duncan nodded and motioned behind him. "I led him to the servants entrance near the larder. I met little resistance on my way here, though I fear our luck will not hold. We must hurry."
Aedan took the lead, his mother and Mathias quick on his heels with Duncan taking the rear guard. The severity of what was happening became apparent as Aedan made his way through the corridors. The bodies of servants and castle staff-some of them Aedan had known his whole life, lined the hallways. Some of them he could easily recognize, some were impossible because the bodies had either been burned or beheaded. His heart sank at each new body they passed, his grasp on hope loosening at every body-or body part, they passed.
Several small fires had been lit throughout the castle, the smell of burnt wood and flesh reached Aedan and it took every ounce of willpower he had to keep from retching. Screams echoed all around him, some of them from battle and other from the terrified members of his house who still maintained their lives. Aedan silently wondered how many people could point to the exact moment in their lives when they could feel it change forever. For better or for worse.
They turned down the final corridor, finding their path blocked by a small band of Howe's men.
"There! That's them!"
"Damn!" Eleanor exclaimed as she reached for the bow behind her back. Aedan once again marveled at his mother's speed as she notched an arrow and released it into the neck of one of the approaching soldiers. Another was already in place as Aedan rushed forward to engage another soldier. Their blades clashed, Aedan barely managed to block the swing of the broadsword before it took his head off. He winced as the impact stung his wrists. They stood with their blades locked, neither one of them allowing the other to gain an inch of ground. Aedan summoned what remaining strength he had and threw his entire weight against the man causing him to stumble slightly. It gave Aedan the opportunity he needed, and his blades swung forward in an upwards motion.
He felt Mathias rush past him, throwing himself squarely into the chest of another guard, knocking him square onto his back. A choking scream escaped the man as the hound ripped into his vitals.
Duncan's demeanor appeared to be calm and he strode forward, both of his hands gripping his longsword. He sidestepped a misplaced mace swing, bringing his sword up and slicing through the man's torso. He fell to the floor with a scream as Duncan turned his attention towards another charging soldier.
Aedan finally found an opening with his opponent and thrust his dagger into the man's throat. He did not have a chance to retrieve his blade from the man's flesh before another was upon him.
The whistling of arrows surrounded the area as Eleanor fired shot after shot into the fray. Her experienced eye easily separated friend from foe as she kept a steady volley of arrows into the air.
The group was holding their ground but just barely. They were outnumbered three to one and while the group was not untested, even they could stand up to such uneven numbers. The gravity of the situation weighed on Aedan as his eyes swept the area. The men were trained and well armored, and had been sent for the soul purpose of slaughtering everyone in the castle. And they were very close to accomplishing their goal.
A well placed dagger flung from one of Howe's assassins sank into Aedan's shoulder. He screamed and staggered backwards, barely managing to stand on his feet. He grunted as he removed the dagger and angrily tossed is aside. A quick glance at his mother told him that she was quickly running out of arrows-and energy. Duncan's swings were becoming less offensive and more defensive, and Mathias seemed to have a difficult time putting weight on his front paw.
Aedan had never feared death, and he was not about to start now. He was going to die, but he would not go quietly. It would not be said that Aedan Cousland allowed himself to be slaughtered.
Ser Gilmore appeared from his left, broadsword held high. A fierce war cry erupted from him as his blade sliced through the soldier who was nearly upon Eleanor. The guard was dead before he hit the floor, but Ser Gilmore did not take the time to look at his work as his eyes were already locked onto his next target.
The distraction gave the rest of the group the time they needed to regain the upper hand. Aedan threw his remaining dagger straight into the forehead of a distracted soldier. Eleanor released her final arrows, landing into the shoulder and chest of a man who fell to his knees only to be preyed upon by Mathias who seemed to find a second wind. Duncan finished off the last two guards with relative ease, his age apparently being no hindrance on his ability with a blade.
"My lord, my lady, are you injured?" Ser Gilmore was sightly hunched over as he approached them and there was a noticeable limp in his walk.
"No Ser Gilmore we are fine. Thank the Maker you arrived when you-Maker's breath you're bleeding!"
"Don't worry about me my lady, I fared better than the rest of my men I'm afraid."
"We must move quickly." Duncan said sheathing his blade. "I fear our time is shorter than I anticipated."
The group hurried down the remainder of the corridor, turning into the entrance of the larder. They paused to listen for any signs of approaching battle before pushing past the massive oak door.
Aedan and Ser Gilmore used what materials they could to barricade the door but it was clear it would do little to stop the coming onslaught. It would only serve to slow them down.
"Bryce!" Eleanor's terrified voice came from deeper in the tunnel.
Aedan hurried towards his mother's voice, dreading what he was about to see. He stopped dead in his tracks, his heart sinking as his eyes fell upon his father. The normally strong man's face was wracked with pain. He was covered in blood from the multiple stab wounds covering his body, one of which Aedan could tell would prove to be fatal. Blood gushed from a deep gash in his forehead, pouring down his face and down his neck.
Two guards, no doubt the last two remaining in the castle stood at the Teryn's side, a last line of defense against Howe's soldiers. It was obvious from the look on their seasoned faces that they knew that this night would be their last night.
Aedan rushed forward to his father's side, kneeling down next to his mother.
Ser Gilmore drew his sword as he and the two other guards made a solid line at the edge of the tunnel, ready to engage any enemies who broke through.
"My son," Bryce began. His voice wracked with pain and it seemed to take a great deal of effort to get the words out. "I thought...I feared I would die without seeing you again. It seems the Maker is not without mercy after all."
"Hush, Bryce. You will not die here, not like this."
"Ah, my darling. If only wishing it made it so."
"I fear the Teryn is correct." Duncan knelt down next to Aedan. "The castle is surrounded, and the Teryn is in no condition to be moved."
"Then we find him healing magic!" Eleanor protested.
"Mother-" Aedan began.
"No! I will not allow this to become your grave Bryce. You will not meet your end here."
"Hush, darling." Bryce gave his wife an affectionate look. "It is over."
"Then we make our stand here." Aedan said grimly.
Bryce reached out and grabbed hold Duncan's arm. "Duncan, I beg you-take my wife and son to safety."
"What? No!"
"I will your lordship," Duncan responded, ignoring Aedan's outburst. "But I fear I must ask for something in return."
"Anything!"
"I came here in hopes of finding a recruit for my order. The darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one, for I fear what has happened here pales in comparison to what is happening in the south."
"I understand." Bryce agreed.
"No!" Aedan shouted. "I will not leave you, I will not abandon you."
"Listen to me Pup! You must escape this place, you and Fergus are all that is left. If you die the Cousland line ends. You must escape, and see that justice is done. Our family always does our duty, and your time has come."
"Go with Duncan darling." Eleanor chimed in. "You will have a better chance of escaping without me."
"Eleanor-"
"Hush Bryce, I will kill every bastard that comes through that door, but I will not abandon you."
"We must move quickly." Duncan said grabbing Aedan by the arm.
Aedan yanked away from his grip. "Father-"
"Go my boy. Go, and live. You do us proud, you always have."
"Here they come!" Ser Gilmore shouted.
"Come!" Duncan grabbed him and pulled him away, but Aedan was making it difficult for him and was fighting with all of his strength.
The first of the final onslaught came through the tunnels. Ser Gilmore threw himself at the guards, the blade of the nearest man cutting threw him like butter. His will proved stronger than any blade and he continued standing, even as the soldiers kept coming.
Eleanor unsheathed her dagger and stood protectively in front of Bryce.
As Aedan struggled against Duncan's grasp, and as his eyes met his mother's for the last time, his father's words echoed in his mind:
"Imagine a future moment in your life where all of your dreams come true. You know without a shadow of a doubt that it is the greatest moment of your life and you get to experience it with one person. Who is standing next to you? When you can see that person clearly in your mind's eye my boy, you will have answered one of life's most important questions. That is what they call love."
His last thought before Duncan knocked him unconscious was a firm belief that while he might have survived, the part of him that would allow him to love anyone had just died along with his family.