"Your sudden marriage puts me in a difficult position indeed!" Teyrn Bryce Cousland roared. "What in the Maker's name were you thinking?"
"What was I thinking?" Fergus answered back. "I want a life of my own! And I love Oriana, Father, and nothing in the world can change that."
It was a fine morning, one which Teyrna Eleanor would have deemed as unremarkable. Except that her husband, who usually had morning tea with her, was instead howling at their son. The lad had recently come home from Antiva after representing Ferelden on a diplomatic mission, which by Andraste's grace concluded as well as expected—but he came home as a married man.
Not that Oriana, the well-mannered daughter of a rich merchant prince, was an unlovable woman, or would not make a fine wife mother in her own right. Quite the contrary. She was warm and caring, and it was easy to see that she was a good, honest woman. While not being adept in swordsmanship or archery, as Eleanor her daughter Lucilla were, Oriana was quite the potions and poison expert. Her considerable skill and character made her a formidable woman, worthy of the Cousland tradition of strong women.
Eleanor and Bryce just wished that the courtship and marriage of the Heir of Highever had followed protocol—meaning that the marriage had been acknowledged by the Landsmeet. Not like this—a discreet marriage in some provincial Chantry, sanctioned by a Revered Mother instead of the Grand Cleric herself, as their noble status had demanded.
"But you yourself said, Mother," Lucilla told her parents a little too politely, "our lives are our own. You said we could marry whomever we want, within reason."
"Yes, that was the condition," the Teyrna said, trying to keep her voice down. "Within reason. Had Fergus told us first, had he made the necessary enquiries, instead of eloping like a—"
"Would you have approved, Mother?" Lucilla inquired. "Would Father have? I suppose my brother felt like he had no choice."
"Choice!" Bryce roared, fist slamming on the table. "You two have a choice: to do your duties or to shrink from them. Is it too much, Fergus, to have asked us first? Has being raised in comfort and luxury made you forget that with great privilege comes great responsibility? Is it too much to ask you to do your duty, as all others in this family are?"
"Would we please try to resolve matters without shouting or breaking things?" Eleanor told her husband diplomatically.
"We are not ashamed of ourselves, Father," Fergus stated categorically, his eyes bright. "Oriana and I love each other. I would think you would be happy for us."
"You still should have sought our blessing," Eleanor chastised him. "You're the Heir of Highever. You need the Landsmeet's approval for your choice of bride."
"Let Lucilla be Heir," Fergus declared. "I don't want to be Teyrn."
"Fergus, be reasonable," Lucilla said. "You've been trained as Teyrn, the commander of the Northern forces. You're the elder child, for Andraste's sake. You're the Heir, not me!"
"I am not throwing my life away, little sister," Fergus assured her. "I am trying to live it. I don't want to be like King Cailan, betrothed at an early age to a woman as beautiful as she is cold, stuck in a childless and loveless marriage. I want a family with the woman I love."
"Holy Maker—" Lucilla gasped, as the Teyrn slapped Fergus with the back of his hand.
"She is with child? Already?" Eleanor asked, even as the family guessed the answer.
"I will stand by my decision," Fergus said with dignity at his parents. "Besides, Oriana and I are married, in accordance with Chantry rites. The marriage is legal, I've checked with Brother Aldous and with the clerics in Denerim and Antiva City. There is no disgrace in her pregnancy."
Fergus looked his parents in their eyes. "Father, Mother, you have trained Lucilla and I with stewarding Highever with wisdom and justice. Lucilla excels at her training, the people love her, and the nobility will accept her. Let her be the Heir, to bear all the responsibility of House Cousland when the time comes. She'll be better at it than me, and happier."
The young man bowed at the three people in the room and left, even as Lucilla spun on her heel to follow her brother.
"It's most unfair, brother," Lucilla remarked as she and Fergus took a stroll outside the castle walls. "You get to live your life. I won't. I'll have to marry someone or another, with no assurance of love or happiness."
"As if stewarding Highever and being Teyrna won't make you happy, little sister," Fergus chided. "Oriana makes me happy. Ruling does not. Court procedures, intrigue, currying favor with the Landsmeet and the freeholders, those aren't my cup of tea. I prefer the simple life with the woman I love, raising our children away from all that."
"How come you get to marry for love when I couldn't?" she pouted. "You were supposed to court Delilah Howe, or Alfstanna Eremon, or Habren Bryland—"
"Habren Bryland! Maker spare me that fate, pup," Fergus chuckled. "Truth of the matter is, little sister, is what I told our parents. I love Oriana. I couldn't go on with life without her."
"So why didn't you ask our parents for their blessing?" Lucilla asked.
"Much easier to beg forgiveness than seek permission," Fergus answered, mirth still in his voice. "Besides, this way, I'm ensuring that I never get to be the Teyrn while still assured that Highever will remain in good hands. Two birds with one stone. You'll make a fine leader, pup. You've always been."
"And marriage, what of that?" Lucilla asked sulkily. "Now you've tied my hands."
"The one selfish thing I'll ever ask of you, sister," Fergus answered as he took her hands. "Look. Not all arranged marriages are bad. Look at Mother and Father. They've worked it out. I'm sure you can, too."
"Do you ever see Thomas Howe cooperating with me?" she said jovially.
"No," Fergus conceded, "Just avoid Thomas and the bastard Vaughan Kendalls, and you'd be all right. How about the Wulff brothers, or handsome Teagan Guerrin? Didn't he dance with you at the Satinalia ball?"
"Well, Teagan is handsome, I suppose, but he's old," Lucilla chuckled. "At least we have something in common—a sense of decency and a preference for beautiful women. All right, Fergus. Because I'm the best sister in the world, you get to marry the love of your life and escape the responsibility of Highever, which you so gracefully put on my shoulders."
"Don't look so pouty, little sister, you know that you want it," Fergus said. "And you know it's for the best."
"Don't look so smug either, Fergus, you'd still be my heir until the time I beget children," Lucilla warned as she punched him lightly on the shoulder. "And I don't see that happening. At all."
Fergus did live in happiness and comfort in Castle Cousland. He couldn't ask for more—a loving wife, a fine son, and perhaps another on the way. Oriana was also loved by his family, the endearing girl that she was. At first, the Teyrna was cold towards her, but with Lucilla's prodding and the arrival of Oren, Eleanor finally gave in, and treated Oriana as she did Lucilla. Eventually the three women exchanged different notes about fighting and diplomacy, useful arts in times of war and peace both. Fergus and Eleanor even hoped that Oriana could teach Lucilla the gentler arts, and with time, the Antivan woman succeeded. Somewhat: Oriana was the only one whom Lucilla allowed to dictate what the younger woman should wear for evening affairs.
But Fergus couldn't evade his duties as a Cousland. He still bore their proud name, after all, and when King Cailan called for reinforcements at Ostagar, his father had been adamant that it was he, not Lucilla, who would lead their forces. Much to her chagrin, Lucilla had insisted on coming with them, but Bryce had taken her by the elbow.
"There will be Grey Wardens at Ostagar, pup," Bryce whispered to his children. "I cannot risk both my children recruited, or Maker forbid, conscripted. Better you stay here, away from them. You'll have your time in court soon enough."
"But Father, if Fergus is conscripted, what of Oriana and Oren?" Lucilla asked. "I have no children or husband to mind. I should go, or at least, go with you both."
"Don't strain my patience, pup," Bryce answered resolutely. "Better Fergus face the risk of conscription than the Heir of Highever. It's high time you learned to do your duty to Ferelden, son, while your sister does hers to Highever. And she'll have a hard time too, as only a handful of our forces will be remaining here."
"Will Arl Howe and his forces detour through Highever, or will they go straight to Ostagar?" Lucilla asked. The family knew of her distaste for Arl Howe, who was too eager to marry his son Thomas to her.
"Ah, Rendon. We're going to march together with the full forces of the North," Bryce said. "You need to learn how to be hospitable to your guests, pup, even if you don't agree to some of their agendas. Besides, it's only for a short while."
Fergus found himself unable to tell Oriana about his father's decision, but his wife was an astute woman. After tucking Oren in, husband and wife faced each other in bed. Oriana stroked his brow.
"Your father wants you to lead Highever's army," she said. As tender as her voice was, it was not a question.
"Yes," Fergus confirmed. "Luce is staying though. She'll take care of you and Oren for me, until I return."
"It's good for you to be seen serving the King," Oriana remarked. "You can erase all doubts of your patriotism when you married me."
"Hush, darling, don't say that," Fergus said. "Do you regret your life with me?"
"Of course not," Oriana said firmly. "You're the love of my life, Fergus, never doubt that. But I'm also aware of your sacrifices to be with me, and for that, I am forever grateful. I'd follow you, my darling, to the Void and back, but as that's not very practical, let me show you instead what I've been busy with."
Oriana stood up and opened a cabinet near their bed. There were dozens and dozens of bottles, vials and little jars of different sizes and colors. "This"—she held a vial with red liquid inside—"is a very potent health potion. And this—"she touched a yellow jar—"is a stamina potion, designed to boost your energy when you need it most."
Oriana pointed at other jars. "I've labeled all these. You'll have a full store of balms, poultices, potions, injury kits, bandages laced with elfroots and deep mushrooms, and antidotes for a dozen poisons. There are also some poisons and grenades here as potent as the ones used by master assassins of the Antivan Crows. A drop can stun or even kill a cow, so be very careful when lacing your sword with them. The corresponding antidotes are all labeled accordingly, but it's better not to be poisoned at all, yes?"
Fergus couldn't resist laughing as his wife returned to their bed. "Ah, my beauty, the love of my life! You never cease astounding me. Will Oren be learning this stuff?"
Oriana was scandalized. "At the right age, Fergus, the right age! I also do not like your notion that he be sent to squire far away. Why can't Lucilla take him under her wing? And must he really learn swordsmanship at this age?"
"My sister and I were his age when our parents taught us swordsmanship and archery," Fergus said, much to the chagrin of his wife. "Don't worry. We'll discuss with the family our best options for Oren after Ostagar. Also, if you make sure that Lucilla obtains a husband and bears children of her own, Oren and I will cease to be her heirs, and you can have us all to yourself."
"Don't tease me, I'm vulnerable," Oriana said, burying her face in her husband's chest. "All those potions are yours, love. And I've commissioned the best herbalists of the Castle so that all of our forces have some of those, too."
"Ah, my dear, dear wife, always looking out after me. With all your fussy potions, I'll go unscathed in battle." Fergus told her as he stroked her hair.
Fergus was scheduled to lead their forces to Ostagar with his father and Arl Rendon Howe that day. However, the Arl's men were delayed, and Oriana clutched him in fear.
"I have a bad feeling about this, Fergus," she whispered as she kissed him. "Make sure that you always have a bottle of each potion I've made on your belt."
Oriana, fussy as always, re-checked her husband's armor and bags. Finally conceding that he had everything he needed—sword, shield, boot dagger, armor all in the right places, pack full of trail food and her poultices and potions—she sighed and looked at him longingly.
"Oh, before I forget," Oriana said as she removed her amulet, which she had never taken off before. "This was given to me by my father, who acquired it from a Rivaini seeress. It's enchanted, and should protect you from stray arrows and treacherous blows."
"Oriana, darling, I can't," Fergus said. "That's your father's gift to you."
"And much use it does to me, dear husband," Oriana smiled as she placed the amulet lovingly around her husband's neck, "seeing as I never really fight any battles. Take it, and may Andraste guide you safely home."
In front of their son, however, they kept a façade of confidence and happiness. "Father, would you teach me how to play with a sword?"
"If your mother so allows, son," Fergus chuckled, as Oriana made a face.
"Can Auntie and Grandma teach me aw-chewy?"
"It's archery, Oren," Oriana said patiently. "Arrrrr. Ar-che-ry."
"Aw-chewy," the child repeated.
"How do you expect to learn archery and swordsmanship if you don't know how to say it properly?" Oriana asked their son.
A knock came at their door. "Fergus? Father wants to tell you something."
Fergus told his sister to come in.
"Hey, champ," she said as she knelt to Oren's height, and ruffled his hair. "Have you bid your Papa farewell? Did he promise to get you a sword when he returns?"
"Yes, Auntie, but that will take long!" the child pouted. "Mama says you'll take care of us while Papa's gone. Will you teach me instead?"
"Only if your Mama agrees, champ," Lucilla said with a wink, and kissed her nephew on his hair.
"Feeling good today, sister?" she said warmly to Oriana, but her face was grim. "I'm sorry if I'm interrupting you and your rascal of a husband, but I've word from Father. He wants you—" she indicated Fergus—" to leave with the army. The Arl's men are delayed."
"Maker's breath," Fergus sighed. "Darkspawn to the South, and some people still don't have a good sense of time."
"There's also a Grey Warden here," Lucilla said matter-of-factly. "Says he's going to test Ser Gilmore."
"Good for him," Fergus agreed whole-heartedly. "Ser Gilmore's a good man, and he's always wanted to be a Warden. Perhaps one recruit from Highever would be enough, and then you and I won't be in danger of conscription!"
"Now, now, Fergus, you mustn't say things like that," Eleanor's voice said from the doorway. "I would think you had a good grasp of diplomacy and tact by now."
"Father, why did you ask me to go to Fergus when you could have delivered your message yourself?" Lucilla groaned as her parents entered Fergus's apartments.
"And miss my children being in the same room at the same time?" the Teyrn said, pleased with his little scheme. "No. I want to bid you two farewell, as I won't be riding with Fergus. Tell the King I'll be arriving soon with the forces of Amaranthine. Rendon told me his men won't take too long."
"You'll take care of Mother, won't you, pup?" Fergus asked Lucilla.
"You need taking care of. Mother doesn't," Lucilla replied.
"It's a shame she's not coming," Fergus joked, "she can scold the darkspawn back to the Deep Roads."
"Maker's breath, it's like living with little boys again," the older woman sighed.
"Maker bless our husbands and children, and look after them," Oriana prayed, as the family closed their eyes and echoed her prayer in their hearts.
The Couslands followed Fergus to the castle gate, where their considerable forces were getting ready for their long march south. Fergus kissed his mother, father, and sister goodbye, lifted Oren n the air to peck him on his cheek, and finally kissed Oriana on the mouth passionately.
Fergus took one last look at Castle Cousland and did not turn back again.