She was dressed in the blackest black, almost ignoring the other women dressed to the finery. It was simple to the point of bringing unnatural amount of attention to her. Her hair was fiery red and her eyes piercing green. He was certain now, before the Coronation, he had never seen her before in his life. She seemed oblivious to this, her red hair swept up out of her face with nothing but a rose adorning her curls at the back of her head. She kept his gaze with fury, her arms folded tightly over her chest. If he didn't know better, he would say she looked furious he was dancing with another woman. But why? Finally, he broke his dance with the blonde woman he had been dancing with. Slowly, he approached her. There was something fascinating about the way she smirked at him when he approached. Something hideously familiar that seemed so obvious he couldn't quite work out what it was. The other dancing couples seemed to blur around her as she jutted her chin forward. She didn't curtsey like the other women, but unfolded her arms and gave him a brisk, refreshing nod.
"Hello" She said plainly. "Long time no see, Alistair" she almost whispered. So that explained it – he HAD known her before. But where?
"I...uh, seemed to have forgotten your name." He admitted "I was never too good with names." For a moment there, he saw her eyebrows furrow and heard her swear under her breath.
"I have to go." She muttered, stepping away from him.
"Wait!" Alistair called. "You didn't tell me your name? Am I going to see you again ...you're so familiar.." The red-head glanced towards Fergus then bit her lip.
"I hope so Alistair" she whispered. "I miss you."
Then she was gone, taking off into the crowd. He stood there, dumbfounded. He knew he had missed something...but what?

"Your Highness! We have arrived" A booming voice shook him out of his slumber. Rubbing his eyes, he glanced at his messenger.
"Huh...what?" His messenger didn't seem perplexed. Instead, he calmly responded like he had expected Alistair's confusion.
"In Highever. You have slept most of the carriage ride here. We are about to carry the Commander's remains into the hall of Highever."
"Right. I will march with them. I take Fergus has reinstated his control over the castle?"
"Indeed."


Eventually, Elissa found herself in Highever. With a strand of red hair tucked behind her ear, she sighed, slipping into the hogs head, one of the lowest taverns. She had been picking pockets in Demerim and made her retreat with a modest picking. At least, enough to fill her belly and catch a ride to Highever with a Merchant tailing after the Royal Procession. The tavern was just how she remembered it. She used to sneak out long after dark as a teenager and besot herself with their local brew, back in the day.

Somehow, by some mystical stroke of luck Highever had taken very little damage from the blight. The damage that had been done, however, was done by Howe. Sighing, she sat down at the bar and smiled briefly at the bartender, passing him a bronze coin.
"An ale, please." Closing her eyes, she listened to the hubbub of the tavern.
"Did you hear about the larder here? Apparently it's infested with rats. Those big ones from the Kocari Wilds." Elissa smiled softly. Oh how she missed her hound.
"Bartender?" She began. "Any new s around here?"
" Aye, the Teryn is returning all levies and taxes to what they were before Howe took over. That'll be a relief on our pockets for sure!"
'The Teryn?' Elissa thought. She bit her lip, glaring into her ale. 'Who dares to be called Teryn...of my lands!' Elissa glared, flexing one of her hands.
"How could anyone call themselves Teryn over Highever after what has happened here?" Elissa demanded. The bartender shrugged.
"After Howe, who could complain about the King instating him as Teryn?" The bartender asked, if not innocently. Still, Elissa stood slowly, her fists tight.
"Thanks bartender." Elissa muttered, turning to head out the tavern. Elissa could feel the heat of blood in her ears, her heart pumping in her chest. She took deep breaths, trying to let the fresh sea air of Highever cool her temper. She took in a big breath, blowing it out softly.
'Get a grip with yourself! It's hardly likely I'll ever be able to be Ternya here...Especially now I look nothing like myself. Alistair, even if he knew what was going on, would hardly be able to explain away why I look nothing like Lady Cousland.' Elissa closed her eyes, drawing in a long, slow breath. Slowly, she opened them, looking up towards the hill and the castle of Highever. Her home. If there was anyone left alive to watch over Highever, then it was her. With a stab of guilt, she found herself jogging towards the castle. 'I wonder if Ser Gilmore made it?' She quietly wondered. 'Or if my family's possessions are still there.'

The gates were swarmed on her arrival of the castle, hundreds upon hundreds of men and woman waiting to be let in. An unfamiliar set of guards stood post outside.
"You will have to wait until the Teryn and the King have set a time for viewing the remains of the Hero Ferelden. Please go back to your homes, and await official notice!"

Elissa paused, watching the men and woman complain and keep the guards distracted. She glanced towards the servant's entrance, a slow smirk crossing onto her face. It seemed, the last way out of the castle...would be her first way in. Slowly, she slipped into the shadows, taking care to remain unnoticed. The servants seemed to be preparing for something...perhaps a banquet for the king? Pausing, she disarmed both of her swords. She had a small dagger to hide in her leathers, but two swords would stand out like darkspawn in a crowd of people. She paused for a moment, reflecting on the last time she left Highever in a hurry. The last time she was home. Then she saw it: a freshly delivered set of pork bits. There was no doubt where these were going: the kennels. Without thinking twice, she picked up the pork bits and calmly slipped into the servant's entrance. The corridor was just as she remembered, leading into the kitchen. She stopped for brief moment to breath in, taking in the smells. It smelt nothing like Nan's cooking, and the elves working were unrecognisable. Evidently, the elves who had entertained her as she bickered with Nan, hadn't made it either.
"Oi! You! What are you doing with those pork bits!" The cook cried out. Elissa froze for a second before calmly turning to face the cook.
"Direct orders from Farmer Geoffories Ma'am." She gave her a curt nod. "He wants them delivered directly to the kennels from now on. Said if they were for the King to eat he wanted to charge double!" With a determined step forward, she headed for the corridor that would lead her further into the castle.
"Oh that bastard Geoffories" The cook grunted. "He knows better than that! When I see him next...I'm going to give him a piece of my mind! Feed pork bits to the King indeed!" The cook raved on.

Elissa chuckled quietly, heading into the stone corridors. Significant repairs had been made on the castle, some areas of the castle repaired with odds and ends of stonework. However none of the tapestry or portraits felt familiar. Slowly, she felt her heart sink. Howe would have destroyed anything that looked like it belonged to her family. Would he have left the portraits of her mother and father? Every Cousland had their turn to be displayed in the hall. Her stomach lunched for a moment. She strode towards the hall, her mind stopping at a standstill. Anything to see her mother and father again, painting or not. She stopped at the door, then with a sudden burst of determination, pushed the door open and charged straight in. Opposite her, on the wall, was a picture of her father.
"Father..." she whispered under her breath.
"I had strict orders not to let anyone into the hall!" A familiar voice barked. "I suggest you leave at once!" Elissa froze for a second, her grip on the crate loosened. With a sickening crack, Elissa narrowly avoided crushing her foot with the splintered wood. The pork bits scattered over the floor, catching the attention of a hound at the Teryn's feet. Her eyes met the voice. Familiar and dark hair and eyes met hers. There was no humour in his voice, no cheery joke, but the face was unmistakable.
"Fergus!" Elissa cried, stunned. "I was sure you died at Ostagar!" Fergus, however, seemed neither surprised nor recognised her. At his feet lay a Mabari Hound...no, her, hound, curled up at his feet, eyes fixated on the pork bits. Evidently, he didn't notice her either.
"Who are you then? A soldier from Ostagar? No, I didn't die at Ostagar. I fell during a darkspawn attack in the wilds and was nursed back to health by the Chasinds. Still that does not explain what you are doing here." Fergus frowned. "I wished to be undisturbed, saying my farewells to my sister, Lady Cousland. Now if you could pick up your –"
Elissa sucked in her breath. There she was again. Right in the middle of the room...her dead self, lying dead, meters away from her. Her skin was still pale and slightly bruised from a connecting blow from an Ogre. Her lips were still unnaturally pink. There was no reek of death. Elissa felt her stomach churn. If she was really dead, she should be rotting by now. Something was going on, and it was beginning to look a lot like blood magic. She wouldn't be surprised if the Chantry took the body for investigation...her body.
"Fergus, that's not who you think she is..." She blurted. "Your little sister is still alive." Her voice shook, regret haunting her the more she spoke.

'Oh Maker...I should have kept my mouth shut.' She took in a shaky breath, suddenly deciding that now make a good time to escape.
"What are you talking about!" Fergus demanded. She saw the red rise in his face. Oh maker, she was making him mad. Fergus, while mad, was the hardest person to calm down. Family trait, She supposed.
"I... Her body is only kept alive by blood magic, Fergus...I know where...Elissa is." She sucked in her breath. Fergus looked fuming now.
"She is dead, plain to see! How dare you come into my home and insist my sister is still alive, when her dead body is right in front of me! I don't know what ideas you have, but you're seeming rather thick even for a delivery woman!"
Elissa scowled at him for a second, her arms crossing at her chest.
"How DARE you call me thick, Fergus Cousland!" She bellowed. She took deep long breaths, striding ahead to stand in front of Fergus. "Can you not see the body is in perfect condition? The battle was over a week ago now!" She yelled. "She should be rotting away, with maggots covering her face by now!" She yelled. "You're a soldier, you should know that, unless you are rather thick between your ears!"

Fergus had turned bright red by now. The guards slammed most of the doors open, looking surprised to see the red head bellowing directly at the Teryn.
"I would not call the Teryn of Highever thick, you lowly wench! You have no right to call me by name." Fergus retorted. "I will have you escorted to the dungeons!"
"Oh no, you will not!" Elissa yelled back. Before she had control of herself, the palm of her hand connected with the side of Fergus's face. "I have every right to call my brother by name." She hissed. "I was the one who hunted Howe down and stripped him of his dignity before slitting his throat, you do not have any idea!"
The Mabari sat up straighter then, his oversized head cocked to one side.
"Apprehend her!" Fergus all but screamed. "Do not, ever, think you can come in here and try to be my sister's imposter. You know nothing! She looked nothing like you! No." He shook his head furiously. "The King will be here soon. He shouldn't have to see the likes of her. I sentence her to death for being an imposter of my late sister."
The hound stood up then, baring his teeth.
"You wouldn't dare." She hissed. "Father would be ashamed of such a sentence, Fergus."
"Even her hound knows the difference." He shook his head. "I could not see any woman in the right mind to waltz in here, stand next to my sister's body and still act as her imposter. You have lost your wits during the blight for sure. Dispose of her now, Ser Gilmore." He shook his head.
She drew the small dagger she had, her heart beating furiously, the same moment Ser Gilmore drew his sword. Out of the corner her eye, she saw the hound bark, charging himself forward.
'Oh Maker, not him.' She thought. 'Don't make me hurt him...' she prayed silently. 'Not my hound.' She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact of the hound and his teeth. 'What a cruel choice to make...my hound or my life.'


Alistair shook his head, burying his face into his hands. Alistair had retired into Fergus' old chambers. Which meant, naturally, Elissa's old room would have been opposite to his. Fergus had warned the room were no longer the same, and any old possession of Elissa would have been long gone, burnt outside behind the old chapel.

News travelled quickly in Highever, that Alistair learnt the hard way. Rumour had it, an imposter had challenged Fergus to believe that Elissa was still alive...just in another's body. It was hard to believe even after all Alistair had seen in his short life. A tear rolled down his face. Hastily, he rubbed it away. Morrigan would have laughed at his tears. He could imagine her shrill voice as if she was with him.

' 'tis all your fault, you know. I did offer you a way out...'

Alistair sighed. If he had known it would be her to take the final blow...maybe things would be different. He should have taken the swamp witch's way out, no matter the price.

Even his dreams haunted him. He had stopped dreaming about the Archdemon, or darkspawn for that matter. He prayed to the maker for dreams of her. Even to feel her as she hugged him after a long day. To smell the wood smoke in her hair again. To hear nod and smile, talking her friends through their problems. He regretted not listening to her problems now. It wasn't that he wouldn't listen... she just never brought them up. There was no time to listen to any of her stories anymore. There were no dreams of her. Just dreams of that odd woman he saw in Demerim with the rose.

She had been running down the corridors, small dagger now drawn into one hand as she ran.
"You can't come with me." She said furiously over her shoulder.
"Wait! Why are you running?" He called back. "I need to know who you are!"
"Alistair." She paused, stopping to shake her head. "I...you were put on the throne for good reason. You will lose all respect if you follow me now! No-one will understand, and those who might understand – like the Chantry, will hunt us both down and kill me as maleficarum and you as an accomplice. You were a Templar, you know this!"
"What...you are a mage?" Alistair looked stared
"No, but that won't stop them from calling it blood magic, love. I have to go now. " She blew a quick kiss, and just like that, was gone.

The dreams had made no sense to him. Who was this woman? Why would she be killed as maleficarum? Why did she call him love? And why did he want to follow her... He punched the wall in frustration. Nothing made sense anymore. If someone could make a way out, he would take it.