Chapter One: Green
Huron - White Hinterland
From the highest point at Castle Cousland, one can gaze forever out at what seems like the entirety of Ferelden. The southwest guard tower brought forth a stretch of land, rising and falling with hills and settlements. The northeast tower, overlooking the breaking waves of the Waking Sea, offered nothing but friendly skies and the usual spatter of fishing boats – the salt in the air curling and wrapping itself across the thickened stone of the fortress walls.
Surrounded by fresh green forests and built sturdy on its peak, Castle Cousland was a haven for all those who inhabited it. A friendly place, ruled over by the descendants of most Couslands passed, the fortress lead its people through each day with the reminder of peace and safety – and nothing ever felt astray. Dozens of service staff, humans and elves alike, kept things running smoother than the sands of their coastline – keeping the castle shining brightly as a beacon to all those who lived under its rule.
The reigning family—a handful of dark-haired, kind-faced nobles—ruled their estate with a pure compassion that left little to be complained about. Everyone seemed to love the Couslands, and although it seemed like a rather impossible task, Bryce and Eleanor had lead with just and generous hands that settled matters with the dignity and integrity required of those second to the Crown.
Their settlements were healthy, and the commoners were content with their daily workings – from the reeking fishmongers of the coast to the haggard hunters of the south. Things felt good by all standards, and the ever-present blue skies that breathed with sweetened air held Highever soft and tender, and all the portraits ever painted never truly captured the peacefulness that rolled throughout the green plains.
But now things seemed dire.
Fergus was miles away and Aedan was not to leave camp, and the younger Cousland was feeling numb and useless – staring out into the campground that hung heavy with thick southern trees. A near week of walking did nothing to ease the seething pain that throbbed in his head, all physical ailments healing tenderly, but still overshadowed by the memory of his mother holding his father as they both shuddered with the thought of what was to come.
The image was draining and although the ache was gripping him tight, Aedan felt empty as if someone had scraped out his insides. Having buzzed through his second time meeting the superfluous King Cailan, the moment feeling faint like a sad dream, the young noble had been left to his own devices. Duncan had taken the time to explain the nature of the Wardens during their trip south, but the words seemed empty in comparison to the ones already floating through the young lad's head.
The older man felt it would do the boy some good to be around a bustling encampment – take his mind off of things. Aedan seemed rather quiet from the moment they had met, but it was glaringly obvious that they boy was silently stewing in his own misery. Duncan did not blame him, but was growing increasingly worried that his words sent to soothe the hurt were going in one ear and out the other.
The young Cousland was a good combatant, but it would have been a shame to lose the lad to the first taint; his clotted gloom smothering the flame that lit even his father's eyes, like a forest fire that had been burning for centuries. The senior Warden had no fear that Aedan wouldn't survive the Joining, but it was not the first time he had seen a sickened recruit succumb to the sadness of a life lost.
Duncan hoped for the best possible outcome, sending the boy to explore and breathe freely for the first time in a long while.
A calm breeze swam through the hanging branches, prickling green leaves whispering behind the last few days of a long summer. His leather boots felt weak beneath his feet, feeling every bump of stick and stone with every step he took. Clangs of metal against metal rang through the woods, and the bubble of voices burst from the colourful tents that littered the site.
There was a sharp prickle of magic that burnt the air; bringing him back to the times the Circle had sent performers to the castle for some of their larger parties. Aedan had never been too taken with magic, as his father had never needed a mage advisor, and had not spent much time thinking about it. But seeing the bloom of white that burst from the fingers of the men in robes sent a thrill of appreciation – having already forgotten about the beauty that still blossomed across the world.
He met the kind eyes of a white-haired woman, half-interested in the chattering of a younger girl who was wrapped head to toe in yellow and green robes. The young mage was spinning a small ball of fire between her palms, weighting it in one hand before slipping it into the other. When she noticed that the older woman was not paying as much attention as was apparently necessary, the mage glanced his way.
"Oh!" She shook her hands free of the flame, as if she was drying them after a quick wash. "You look new! Are you a recruit?"
His voice, withdrawn and undemanding like it had been all his life, broke free of its cobwebs. "I'm sorry?"
"You're not buckled up like one of the King's soldiers, so I just—was it wrong to assume as much?" Her grin twitched almost apologetically.
"No." Aedan's voice nettled over the swelling pulse of the magic flourishing behind the women. "I am Duncan's new recruit."
"He's not a man easily impressed." The older woman started, voice gentle and warm in comparison to the girl's skittish dithers. "You should be proud." He summoned a grateful look, and nodded softly. "Allow me to introduce myself – I am Wynne, one of the mages summoned by the king."
"I'm Aedan." He addressed her lightly, quickly peeking at the girl who was already dribbling her own name. "Nice to meet you."
"I'm Solona." The dark-skinned woman burst, obviously very passionate about herself by the way she beamed like a pompous minstrel. "I'm also a recruit, so I guess we'll be working together!" She had fluffed herself up like a gaudy, plump bird - all loud and colourful beneath the swinging afternoon shade of the tree.
"Try not to over-stimulate the poor boy, my girl." Wynne breathed softly, wise eyes easily pinpointing the young man's fatigue. "Would you like us to have a look at that eye of yours? It must have been a rough journey."
"... Thank you." The young man paused again, finding a mother's warmth in her eyes. The feeling left a sick tear in his chest, and the awkward comfort swept away with a dull swallow. "It was a long walk."
Wynne sat him down beneath a tree and his legs groaned in approval. He had never had to walk such a distance before, considering his father had always allowed them to travel by horse or carriage. There was a jolt of fear that shot through him, wracked by the idea of never being able to move again. The muscles in his legs felt as if they were going to curl up and retire at the quaint age of twenty-four.
Her magic was soothing, like a bath poured at the textbook temperature. The swelling on the right side of his face started to creep away, and the tightness that had swathed across his skull faded fast. Solona was peering at him over the shoulder of the kind old woman, failing to flinch when he managed to catch her eye.
"You look very familiar." The young mage told him. "Now that your eyes not all swelled-up."
Aedan didn't fail to notice the smile twitch at the corner of the old witch's mouth. "Do I?" He asked.
The magic slipped away and Wynne stood to full height, glaring over her shoulder at the group of mages whose fog of creamy white had grown quite large. She tsk'd, and reluctantly excused herself – Aedan's discomfort heightening greatly when Solona crouched down in front of him.
It would have been nice to be able to rest for a little while before he had to go find the Warden named Alistair, but it seemed that the girl was persistent. Her kind palms found his shins and Aedan felt he needed to cower, but he could not find the energy.
"I have a thing for faces." She told him with an easy smile – her magic soaking through the hardened leather of the armour his father had commissioned for him. "You must be sore. Where did you walk from?"
There was a hot flush that ran up his legs and this time he did wince.
"Highever." The words shot out, all intelligent thoughts dying with the flash of fire that burnt him as he tried to pull his knees to his chest – stopped by the pacifying pleasure that soon fled from her warm hands. Her eyes glazed with some kind of recognition and she broke away from his stare.
"My family lives around Highever. On the coast, actually." Her bright eyes searched the swirling indentations in the rich armour – pumping wave after soothing wave through to his aches. "That I know of, anyway. Haven't seen them for a while."
Aedan couldn't find the words to continue on, but the mage seemed fine with his silence – working her magic into his tender muscles. They sat in a strange silence together, any tension drowned by the friendly banter of passing soldiers. Finding herself happy with her work, Solona leant back on her calves and glanced up at him.
"So I guess you have to go and find Alistair?" Solona asked and he nodded back. "Last I saw him, he was talking to Daveth. Do you need a hand standing?"
"I'm fine," The man pushed himself up the tree, the leather grating against the crumbling bark as his legs let out a appreciative yawn. "Thank you, mage."
"My pleasure." She held out her hand and he took it, hoisting her up to a stand. He could have sworn he could still feel the bite of her magic lingering in her touch, sticking to his fingertips when she let him go. Her presence was unsettling, her closeness clouded by the cogs turning behind her stare. Aedan had a feeling that she had figured out who he was—surely news didn't travel that fast?—but if she knew anything more than he thought she did, she wasn't hinting at it.
He decided to leave before she asked him any more questions and bid her goodbye. He left her brushing fallen leaves from her heavy robes underneath the shedding tree, turning one last time to find her watching him with those curious blues.
A/N: Today my desktop computer finally died - RIP graphics card, you were such a bastard. Two days before Inquisition is due to be released here. I haven't cried yet but I have a feeling I will. So, I'm just going to publish this old hunk o' junk because I really love my two Wardens and need to numb the pain somehow.
I've always written Solona as more of a companion, so Aedan will be lead boy. I've written each chapter as part of a pattern; Aedan, Solona, Alistair. So next chapter will be from the view of my lovely mage gal. I'd really like to hear back about this one because I'm not actively focusing on romance for the first time in forever, so any critiques are more than welcome.