Author's Note: This is my first fan fiction in several years, so I would appreciate any feedback. I will be keeping to the basic plot of Dragon Age: Origins, but I have added a few twists, especially with regard to the number of main characters. My main focus will probably tend to stay on FemCousland/Alistair, as this was my favorite way to play through the game, but I will try to cover multiple stories and pairings from various perspectives. The story is rated M for violence, language, and sexual content that will appear in later chapters.
Disclaimer: Bioware owns everything Dragon Age.
It had been many years since Duncan had visited Highever, yet it seemed as if so little had changed. The wind from the north carried with it the familiar scent of the sea and the sound of gulls. The blossoming flowers in the fields surrounding the castle once again offered the first signs of an approaching spring. And the people—the people of Highever still went about their lives with a sense of pride and duty that could only be instilled by the efforts of an honorable and inspiring leader.
No, Highever has not changed, Duncan thought as he entered the great hall of the castle. Bryce Cousland wouldn't have allowed it.
Yet, just as Duncan was slipping into nostalgia, he saw something that he had never before seen in the great hall. Two fighters, in what appeared to be a duel to the death, entered the room from one of the side doors. Duncan's first reaction was to reach for his sword. Certainly he had seen fighting in Highever before, but always in the sparring grounds or the tournament arena. Fighting in this room—in front of the teyrn himself—was highly out of the ordinary and a possible sign of trouble.
Duncan stayed his hand, though, when the pair was followed by a group of knights who seemed to be quite enthralled with the duel. One of the knights ignored the fighting and instead approached the teyrn. "Forgive me, milord," the knight said as he bowed. "I could not dissuade them from their current activity."
Bryce Cousland smiled at this and replied, "Do not worry yourself, Ser Gilmore. I doubt anyone could have dissuaded them."
Given the levity in Bryce's tone, Duncan let his concerns fade and turned his attention back to the fighters. They seemed to be an odd pair at first glance. The most obvious difference between them was that one was male and the other female. With his strength and heavy armor, the male looked like he would fit in perfectly among the knights watching the battle, although he would probably stand a head taller and have fewer years under his belt than most of them. Despite his youth, though, the male showed remarkable skill fighting with his sword and shield in a warrior's style.
The young woman, on the other hand, moved with the speed and cunning of a rogue. The daggers in her hands cut through the air with such swiftness, in fact, that Duncan wondered at how the young man was able to parry her blows while still launching attacks of his own. And yet, quite incredibly, she was able to do the same, defending herself from her opponent's powerful assaults and making offensive strikes against him in a series of graceful, fluid movements.
It did not take the shouts from the crowd of "You've got her, Lord Bryon!" or "Nice move, Lady Bena!" for Duncan to know the identities of these young fighters. Despite the differences in their fighting styles, both had their father's dark brown hair and their mother's deep green eyes, and, most striking in Duncan's opinion, both seemed to embody the strength and honor of the Cousland family. These were Bryce's youngest children—his twins.
Duncan watched as the fighting continued throughout the hall. He was impressed by how well the twins adapted to and took advantage of their surroundings. Stone columns and wooden tables did not create obstacles for the pair but instead provided opportunities for varying attacks and defenses.
From behind him, Duncan heard a man ask with disgust in his voice, "Aren't you going to stop this foolishness, Bryce?" Duncan turned to confirm his suspicions that it had been Arl Rendon Howe who had spoken.
"I trust my children, Rendon. They are both quite skilled and quite capable of recognizing when to stop before things fall out of hand," Bryce replied quietly. "Besides, it is good for the men to see some entertaining sport before they have to march off to war. It helps keep their minds from being preoccupied with the darkness that lies ahead."
Just as Howe was beginning to acquiesce to the teyrn's arguments, chaos erupted. Somehow, some action of either the twins or one of their rowdy observers sent a bowl of fruit into the air. Duncan turned to see a melon flying toward his face. Yet, just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. He looked around and spotted the melon on the ground a few feet from him. A dagger had diverted it from its collision course and was still sticking out from the fruit. Duncan retrieved the blade and then looked at Bena. Both daggers were gone from her hands and neither was sheathed.
Duncan then surveyed the rest of the room and noticed a similarly impaled fruit nearby the teyrn. The arl, however, did not appear to have been so fortunate, as he rubbed a growing welt on his forehead. A large fruit was left lying at his feet. "You two," Howe began angrily, "are in desperate need of a lesson in discipline."
"I apologize, Arl," Bryon said, stepping forward and revealing a commanding tone to his voice. "It was not our intent to cause anyone harm."
"I am certain of that," Bryce interjected. "No doubt the men just wanted to finally know which of the two of you could beat the other in a fight. Unfortunately for them, I believe it would be best to leave that question unanswered and merely call the fight a draw."
Before the teyrn could say anything more, the main door opened and several of Howe's men entered the hall. They stepped towards the center of the room, taking in the sights of disarray, until one of the men finally spoke up, "Milord, a messenger has arrived at the camp of your personal guard. He has further information on our troops if you care to speak with him."
"I do, indeed, care to speak to him," Howe replied, this time trying to conceal his anger as he spoke. He turned toward Bryce, bowing his head and excusing himself from the teyrn's presence. Before leaving the hall, however, Howe also stopped in front of Lady Bena. He extended his hand, indicating that he wanted to receive hers in return. She obliged but did not remove her leather glove before doing so. Despite this, the arl still bowed and kissed her gloved hand. After looking up and saying, "Milady," Howe made his way to the door and exited the room.
Once Howe was gone and most of the Highever knights had cleared the room, Bena went up to her father and apologized if she had offended him.
"Offend me, no, my dear child. You did not offend me, but I noticed you did not apologize to the arl," Bryce said.
Bena's voice then changed, becoming a bit defensive. "That was to be my last duel with Bryon for Maker knows how long, father. I feel no shame in having participated in it."
Bryon then added, "And if you are referring to the matter of the fruit, father, the fault lies with neither Bena nor myself. Neither of us were anywhere near that dish, and besides, Bena did her best to prevent it from becoming too great of a mess."
Bena was about to start up again, and Bryce struggled to stifle the smile that wanted to appear on his face as he watched his children defend each other. Not seeing this hint of his oncoming smile, Bena continued, saying, "And if you are referring to the matter of the fruit hitting Howe, well I could not let the fruit hit you, father dear. Nor did I think it wise to allow the fruit to hit the formidable looking stranger in our hall, to whom you have yet to introduce us."
"I concede, my children. You win," Bryce said, raising his hand and no longer concealing his grin. "I know the coming days will be difficult for all of us, and that the two of you need to find what relief you can." Then, as he pulled the dagger from the impaled fruit nearest to him and handed the weapon back to his daughter, he added, "However, in the future, I would prefer that you keep such relief confined to the sparring grounds and not bring it into the main hall."
"Yes, father," the twins replied in unison.
"As for our guest," Bryce began, "this is Duncan of the Grey Wardens." At this introduction, Duncan moved closer to the Couslands. "Duncan," Bryce said, "this is my second son, Bryon, and my daughter, Bena." The twins bowed at the Warden, and then Bryon stepped forward, extending his arm.
Duncan clasped the young man's arm and shook it in the traditional greeting of the Ferelden military. "It is an honor to meet you, Warden," Bryon said.
"The honor is mine, milord," Duncan responded. "It is a rare opportunity, indeed, for me to bear witness to such a masterful display of swordsmanship as what you have demonstrated today."
"Thank you, Duncan," Bryon said, with apparent appreciation in his voice. To receive praise from a Grey Warden—a member of that legendary group of warriors—was an incredible compliment in the young man's opinion.
Duncan then turned his attention to Bena. She extended her arm as her brother had, indicating that she would prefer a soldier's greeting to a noblewoman's, and Duncan respected her silent request. "And you, milady," Duncan began, as he shook her arm and then returned her second dagger to her, "I have never seen blades move so quickly. I'm impressed you were able to throw the two daggers in time."
She smiled at this but before she could make any response a voice behind Duncan said, "Three."
"What was that, Ser Gilmore?" Bryce asked.
"She managed to throw three daggers before there was any impact," said the knight, removing a knife from a peach and then tossing the blade to Bena.
"Technically, it was two daggers and a knife, Ser Gilmore," Bena replied, stowing the small knife away up her glove.
"Impressive all the same, milady," Duncan said. "From what I have seen today, I believe that you and your brother would both make excellent Wardens. In fac—"
"No!" Bryce interrupted, his face covered in a stern expression. "Recruit who you will of my men, but my children are off limits. Do we have an understanding?"
"Yes, milord," Duncan said with a seriousness in his voice to match the teyrn's tone.
"But father," Bena began, "if I became a Grey Warden, I could help you and Bryon and Fergus against the darkspawn. I would actually be able to contribute something instead of just sitting back while you three are forced to do all of the work. I could—"
"I said no, Bena. You will be contributing. Staying here, managing Highever—that is what I need you to do while we gone."
"But mother could handle that on her own. I could do so much more as a Grey Warden!"
"But right now, your duty is to the people of Highever, Bena. And in a few months time, you will have new responsibilities to see to. You must think of your current obligations before you run off and dream of promising your life to the Wardens." The teyrn took a deep breath before beginning again, "Now, if you will all excuse me, I have an army to deal with. Ser Gilmore, see to the Warden's needs."
"Yes, milord," the knight replied.
Bena did not attempt to meet her father's gaze as he left the room and kept her face downcast after he was gone.
"I apologize, milady," Duncan said. "I did not mean to cause any animosity between you and your father."
"Do not trouble yourself, Warden, you are not the cause," Bena replied, looking up at Duncan. She smiled, but Duncan recognized it as not a true smile, but rather a mask worn by those who have learned to hide their emotions from the world. "If you will excuse us," she said, wrapping her arm around her brother's, "we also have several matters to attend to before the army departs."
"Duncan," Bryon said, "it was truly an honor. I hope that are paths may one day cross again."
"As do I, milord," Duncan said, bowing his head to Bryon. He then bowed his head to Bena, saying "Milady," and she responded in kind before leaving the room with her brother.
"Forgive me, Ser Gilmore, I do not mean to pry," Duncan said, turning to the knight, "but what did the teyrn mean by 'new responsibilities' for Bena. I was under the impression that she would remain here during the battle and maintain her current duties."
"She will do so," Gilmore said, unintentionally releasing a sigh, "until her twentieth birthday several months from now. Then she is to marry her betrothed."
"How odd. Although I admit to being otherwise preoccupied, I do not remember hearing anything about an engagement recently."
"It was not recently that she became engaged, Warden. She was betrothed practically at birth."
"To whom?"
"Thomas Howe, Arl Howe's son."
From this response, Duncan inferred a great deal about the girl. Her eagerness to join the Wardens, her lack of attention toward Howe—all of these signs pointed to the possibility that she was unsatisfied with the path currently before her.
If only I could convince her father, Duncan thought before turning his focus back to the knight standing before him.
"Bena!" a man's voice yelled from behind her. She was on her own for the moment after her brother had helped her to escape their mother's lectures on what she must do to be a dutiful wife. She did not know how the woman always managed to get on that subject, despite everything else that was going on around her. Bena now hoped that the oncoming man had no such speeches to give her.
She turned to see Ser Gilmore quickly approaching. "Bena," he began, slightly out of breath and with a wide smile on his face. "I ha—I mean, milady," he said, stammering after realizing how informal he had been in using her first name.
"Ser Gilmore, we have known each other for over a decade. Please do not stand on formality on my account," she said reassuringly.
"Thank you, mila—Bena—sorry," he said, smiling as he tripped over her name.
Maker, he's handsome when he smiles, she thought, smiling back at him. But sadly, the other voice that lingered in her mind spoke up, Yes, he may be handsome and kind and strong, but none of it matters. You're practically another man's wife, so dwelling on what can't be will only get you hurt.
Thankfully, before she carry on with this train of thought, Gilmore continued, telling her how Duncan was considering recruiting him into the Grey Wardens.
She wanted to throw her arms around her friend and congratulate him, but the nagging voice in her head held her back as it always had. So instead, she merely smiled and gripped his upper left arm, telling him what wonderful news it was.
"Thank you, mi—Bena," he said, the grin not leaving his face as he looked at her. "At least I'm getting better. Soon I won't start your name with any 'm' sound at all."
They both laughed at his last comment, but then his eyes changed, and his smile became softer, almost as if sadness had crept into it. His right hand went over the hand she had on his arm, keeping it in place. Then, quietly he said, "It would be better news if you could come with me. If we could…be together."
She didn't respond. She didn't know how to respond. Yes, she had always felt something for the knight. He had always treated her with kindness and respect, despite the fact that she was a woman who generally tried to lead the life of a man. But she didn't know if her feelings for Gilmore could be considered love, and what her mind had always told her for certain was that it didn't matter if it was love. She knew her duty. She had to bring honor to the Cousland name the only way she could, even if that meant never allowing herself to know what true love felt like.
Gilmore noticed her hesitation. Letting go of her hand, he spoke, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It was inappropriate, milady." Bena noticed him returning to his former self—rigid, stoic, and always proper.
It would have been easier to keep quiet and let him stay that way. It's the only way to keep from getting hurt, the voice in her mind said. But the voice in her heart told her otherwise. If he went off with Duncan to become a Grey Warden, there might not be many more opportunities for them to talk.
"No, Ser Gil—Roderick," she began, breathing deeply and looking into his deep blue eyes. "It was not inappropriate. It's just that…I have responsibilities here. You heard my discussion with my father earlier. I cannot be a Warden, and it does me no good to dream of a world where I could be someone else and lead some other sort of life."
"And if you did not have those responsibilities?"
Then I could dream all I wanted, Bena thought. I could become a Warden and fight alongside my brothers in the coming battle. I could open my heart and find love—perhaps even with you, Ser Knight.
"I do not know," she said, turning her eyes downward. She knew her time with him was running short, and her heart was winning the battle against her mind. Even if she could not admit to him love, she decided that at least she could tell him the truth. "If I were able, I would like to become a Warden, and I would be honored to have you at my side."
He took up her hands into his own, and her eyes went back up at his. The look on his face was suddenly too much. She couldn't do this do him. Her mind once again reminded her that he was a good man and didn't deserve to be led on by someone who did not know love and someone who, no matter what, could not be his. He was about to speak, but she stopped him, saying, "But that is all just a dream and nothing more."
With a hint of desperation in voice, he responded, "But we could make it work somehow. I could take care of—"
"Ben!" another voice interrupted, and the knight and lady quickly pulled apart. They soon saw her brother round a nearby corner. "Ben, there you are. I need your help." Bryon noticed Gilmore, looking somewhat flushed, and nodded at the knight. "Ser Gilmore, I trust all is well."
"Yes, milord," was all that Gilmore managed to get out, so Bena spoke for him.
"Ser Gilmore was just telling me that he is a potential recruit for the Grey Wardens."
"That's wonderful news, Ser Gilmore. Congratulations!" Bryon replied. "You deserve this. You have proven to be one of my father's bravest knights. And, given that you were able to teach Ben to fight, you also proved yourself a miracle worker. I have no doubt that you will make a fine Grey Warden, and that you will do Highever proud."
"I hope to, milord. Thank you," Gilmore said, and then added, "You said you needed milady's assistance with something. Can I be of help?"
"Thank you, Ser, but no. Nan just needs to see us in the larder for a moment," Bryon responded. He turned to his sister, and the pair took their leave of the knight.
As they began to walk away, Bena's heart once again overruled her determined mind. She turned back to see the knight walking downtrodden in the opposite direction. "Ser Gilmore," she called out, and he quickly turned around to face her. "We can continue our conversation later," was all that she could say.
"I would like that, milady," he replied, before turning back to his original course. Some of the spring had returned to his step.
"So," Bryon began, "did he believe that now was the most opportune time to confess his undying love for you?"
Bena responded with a swift smack to the back of her brother's head, even though, as adults, his head was nearly a foot higher than hers. She then crossed her arms and glared at him with a look of shock and anger.
"What?" he asked before continuing, "I've lived in this castle my entire life too, Ben. You're my sister, and I've seen the way he looks at you. And if he were a less honorable man, I would have slit his throat for the way he looks at you, but…"
"But?"
Bryon looked into his sister's eyes and saw a sadness hidden there that ate away at him. He had grown up knowing his future. He knew that one day Fergus would be teyrn and that, as the second son, he would be the commander of Highever's army, and he was perfectly content with this. He wasn't interested in being the teyrn; he wanted to be a soldier. He had known this from the first day a sword had been placed into his hand.
He was a Cousland. Bound by honor and duty, he would have accepted whatever fate was laid upon him, and, fortunately for him, it seemed like it would be a well suited one. But the same could not be said for his sister. A Cousland daughter had not been born in several generations. At her birth, the betrothal made perfect sense to the teyrn. He had a daughter and his best friend had a son several years her senior. There appeared to be no reason for hesitation, and despite the value of a Cousland's word, a contract had been drawn up to finalize the deal.
And she was a Cousland. Bound by honor and duty, she would accept whatever fate was laid upon her, no matter what her heart might truly desire.
"But if you…" he began, trying to think of what could be said to solve this problem, "if you love him the way he loves you, you should speak to father about it. And now—before you give your life away to a man you can't stand."
"I've talked to father about this subject before, Bryon. He knows my…my opinion of Thomas. And he could very well be right. Perhaps I've only seen Thomas at moments when he's acting out on youthful impulses. Perhaps with time, he will be a better man."
She turned away from her brother before continuing, "Besides, I don't even know what I feel for Ser Gilmore. Yes, he cares for me, and I care for him, but I don't know if it's love. I don't know if it's enough to question what has been expected of me for my entire life. Father has asked nothing else of me, and because I cannot contribute to his campaigns, I can at least do what he believes is best in this regard."
"But, Ben—"
"No, Bryon," she said, turning back to face him. "I have only a few hours left with you before you leave for Ostagar and I do not want to waste them with pointless daydreams. I have had several moments of weakness today, all of which I blame on you," she said, attempting to lighten her tone as she poked a finger at his breastplate. "First with the whole wanting to be a Warden business and then with Gilmore just now—it's all because I'm not sure what I will do with myself when I no longer have my brother around here to fight with."
No response seemed adequate to Bryon. He hated the idea of leaving her behind to a life she did not want while he was off living his dream. He hated how she resigned herself to that life out of some sort of obligation to the Cousland family. And he hated his father for not tearing up that bloody contract, despite his daughter's pleas for him to reconsider, just because Bryce Cousland would not treat his friend Howe with such disrespect.
Silence fell between them for a moment. Then Bena carried on the conversation for both of them, smiling, if only for her departing brother's sake, "No need to worry, brother dear. Yes, I'll admit I envied that you would be able to go off to battle while I was left here. It had always been, 'Where you go, I go,' with us growing up, but I know we aren't children anymore."
Still smiling, she sighed and continued, "Everything is once again becoming perfectly clear to me. I will set everything aright again this evening so that by tomorrow my life will be exactly as it should be."
Changing the subject, she remarked, "Now, you said that Nan needed to see us?"
Bena and Bryon could hear the barking as they neared the kitchen. The dogs were obviously upset about something, and it didn't sound as if it was Nan's cooking.
The old woman approached the twins, waving a spoon at them as they entered. "Something has to be done about those mangy mutts of yours or else I'll quit," Nan yelled.
"Oh Nan, please don't say that," Bena pleaded.
"No doubt they just like spending time with you," Bryon added, as he stopped to kiss the woman on the cheek while trying to slyly grab a cookie off of the counter. But his heavy armor did little to hide his movements. Nan easily spotted the maneuver and slapped the hand reaching for the cookie.
"Those are for later!" she snapped. "Now get those things out of my larder!"
"Oh, alright," Bryon said, with apparent disappointment in his voice. He made his way into the larder where Bena stood waiting for his appearance. She stared at him with a guilty smile on her face. "What?" he asked.
She merely extended her arm and held out her hand to reveal a cookie hidden in her palm. "Take it. It's for you," she said.
"How am I going to survive without you, Ben?" he asked, before devouring the cookie.
"Maker only knows," she replied, kneeling down beside and petting the dogs who appeared to just be barking at the far wall. "Lux, Astor, what's wrong boys?"
Bryon had moved to the far wall to investigate. "I hear something," he said. "Hush, boys, so I can listen." With that command, the dogs went silent. "It sounds like…"
"Rats!" Bena said as she saw a pair of blood red eyes staring at her from underneath a cupboard. She pulled out her blades, and her brother drew his sword. With Lux and Astor at their sides, the small group quickly disposed of the vermin. Now that the creatures were dead, the dogs were calm and stopped their barking. "Well, that was disgusting," Bena commented.
"And strange," Bryon added, noting how unusual these rats had looked and behaved.
Noticing the noise had died down, Nan entered the larder and was taken aback by the horrid sights and smells of the room. "What did you troublemakers do to my larder?"
"We're sorry, Nan," Bena replied. "There appears to have been a rat infestation."
"But don't worry, we'll clean it up," Bryon added.
"Oh no, you won't," Nan said. "Apparently, the teyrn's been looking for you and Fergus. He said something about you boys leaving now with our men while he waits for Howe's troops. So, you best get a move on, and I'll see to this mess." Nan paused for a moment before adding, "And you be careful out there, young man. Don't do anything foolish."
He went up to Nan and hugged her. "Don't worry, Nan. I'll be back soon, and I'll bring you a present. Anything you want."
At that precise moment, Astor once again began to bark. Nan pulled away from Bryon, looked at him, and said, "Just teach that dog of yours some manners while you're gone. I'd be more impressed with that than if you defeated the whole darkspawn army singlehandedly!"
The next few hours flew by quickly. They had been filled with tearful good-byes and a brother's promise that he would see his twin sister again soon. She had made him promise that, as he had yet to ever break his word to her.
That afternoon, Bena had not had it in her to face Gilmore, knowing how hard it would be to tell him to forget their previous conversation. After her mind had finally won out against her heart, she knew that this would be the best way for her to maintain her resolve. She would have to explain to him that, with all of the distractions of the day—her brothers' imminent departure, his own recruitment into the Grey Wardens—she had spoken without thought. She decided to reveal this to him just before he left with Duncan, giving the knight no time to try to change her mind.
Now the sun was beginning to set over Highever. Bena watched from the castle's highest tower as the army became a smaller and smaller speck on the southern landscape. Lux whined beside her.
"Don't worry, boy," she said kneeling so she could be face-to-face with her Mabari. "We'll see them again soon."
"He no doubt misses Astor as much as you miss Bryon," a woman's voice said from behind her. The slight Antivan accent was unmistakable.
"And no doubt as much as you miss Fergus," Bena replied to her sister-in-law, Oriana. The two had had their share of disagreements in the past, primarily about Bena's unfeminine behavior, but tonight there was no hostility in the Antivan's voice. She sounded as sad as Bena felt.
"'Tis true. I do miss him, as does Oren. It's so hard on him. He knows that his father had to go away for something important, but at the same time he wants his father here to tell him a story at night." She sighed, "And apparently, I am not good at telling stories."
Bena smiled at Oriana and said, "Perhaps your stories just don't have enough griffons in them."
"Perhaps that is so, but what do I know of griffons or dragons or fighting? I doubt I could come up with a decent story about such things."
"I could tell him a story, if you'd like."
Oriana's face brightened. "Would you? I know that you and I do not always…well, get along, but you are always so wonderful with Oren. I think it would help him sleep tonight if you wouldn't mind talking to him."
"Of course I wouldn't mind, Oriana," Bena said, placing her hand on her sister-in-law's shoulder. "Oren is my nephew, and you're my family too. We'll help each other get through this, and then, before we know it, Fergus and Bryon—they'll both be back."
"Thank you, Bena," Oriana replied with a smile. "You are perhaps not as hard as I once thought you were." She turned to leave, but looked back at Bena, her expression a bit more serious. "You know, if you need me, I am here for you as well. I know what awaits you in the coming months, and if you want to know about what to expect when it comes to marriage, I would be happy to answer your questions."
Bena thanked Oriana for the offer. She had had no romantic experiences beyond one kiss that she tried everyday to forget. The more she thought about this and her impending marriage, the more she worried about her ignorance. "I may just have to take you up on that," she said to the Antivan, as they left the tower's roof.
Having gotten a late start because of Howe's delays, the army of Highever marched through the night. The men would stop to set up camp tomorrow, but they knew that they would not tarry in any particular spot for too long. The threat was in Ostagar and so was the king. That was where they were needed.
As they travelled that night, Bryon was overcome by a feeling of dread. He could not explain it. It was not the pre-battle nerves he had been dealing with for the past few days or the effects of the winter's final chills moving through the air.
No, this was something else, and Bryon could not help but think of Bena. He hoped that, no matter what might happen to him in the coming days, at least she would be safe.
Unfortunately for the twins, all of Bryon's hoping would not be enough to protect them from the darkness that lay ahead.