Dragon Age
The Rose of Highever
A/N: Changes are made because it's hard to believe Cailan had never met Cousland before Ostagar, with Cousland being the daughter of one of the two Teyrns.
(Last edited: March 2011)
Chapter Two: The King and the Warden
"If a Blight is truly upon us in the south, then Grey Wardens will be needed. There is no higher calling." - Teyrn Bryce Cousland.
It took days to travel from Highever to Ostagar. Or perhaps weeks. Samantha did not keep track of time. Nor did time mean anything much to her. Hours felt more like days; days like weeks. Almost every waking hour Samantha found herself putting one booted foot in front of another methodically, following the back of the well-armed Grey Warden. Her steps led her further and further away from the castle she grew up in, from the home she had known all her life and now lost. She had no idea where she was. Nor did she know the time of the day or the day of the week. None of that mattered to her anymore.
At times, she felt pain – both physically and emotionally. Physical pain from the battle wounds during the massacre, mental pain from the lost of her family due to that event; both lingered around since that fateful night, stubbornly refusing to leave her be. Although Samantha wasn't quite sure if she was ready to let go of her pain now, or ever, for her pain was the only thing she had left that connected her to her past.
At times, she was numbed – alas only physically so. So numbed that she couldn't feel the increasing chill around her as they traveled further down south, far away from the warm and comfortable coastal weather she was accustomed to. So numbed that she couldn't even feel the cold hard ground she had to sleep on during the nights when no inns were to be found.
Days after days, Samantha would find herself waking up with tears on her face, evidence of her sobbing in her dreams. If Duncan heard any sound from her, he chose not to said a thing. They barely exchanged words. Perhaps he was letting her grieve on her own terms, or perhaps he was just a man with few words. As quiet as his company might be, Duncan's look upon her was sometimes sympathetic, sometimes thoughtful, but always kind.
Step by step, she followed the older Warden south to Ostagar. Step by step, her tears began to subside. Soon enough, it stopped. Samantha wondered if she had used up all the tears she had for the rest of her life. The pain lingered on and the numbness returned from time to time, but the tears were gone.
The healing had begun.
Ostagar was more impressive than she imagined when she first heard about it. Duncan patiently explained the strategic importance of this historical location while Samantha listened politely. Truth be told, her mind was spinning around furiously at the thought of meeting her brother for the very first time since he had matched down south with his men. Samantha had been both looking forward for this undoubtedly painful reunion and dreading it. Fergus was all she had left in the entire Thedas. Everyone she had known and loved was dead, killed in one single night. A familiar face was what she needed most, and a comforting shoulder for her to cry on, a place allowing her to let her guard all down and be just Sammy once more.
Yet, she could not stop the intense guilt building inside her, getting stronger each time she drew a single breath. She should not be alive. Ser Gilmore barred the door and pushed it back, sacrificing himself to let her run; her mother stayed behind with her father to fight one last fight, sacrificing herself to buy her time. They were all dead. Everyone was dead, except her. The guilt of being the sole survivor slowly replaced the grief of her loss, and it hurt even more as the intense guilt started to eat her alive from the inside, eventually leaving her nothing but a shell of her former self. Fergus would never blame her for leaving their parents behind, that much she was certain. But he didn't have to. She blamed herself more than enough for the two of them.
But it had to be done. It was her duty to survive and seek justice, if not vengeance, as she was instructed by her dying father. Samantha was not about to abandon her duty and her late father's dying wish just because of personal pain and fear. She was a Cousland. Duty came first. Always.
Still, the inherited strong sense of duty did nothing to ease the soul-eating guilt of abandoning her parents to their deaths. Samantha let out a shaky breath and hung her head down in shame just by imagining the upcoming reunion with her dear brother.
Just then, a cheerful voice rang across the distance, providing a welcome distraction for Samantha. "Ho there, Duncan!"
"King Cailan?" Duncan arched a thick eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't expect-"
"A royal welcome?" The King of Ferelden closed the distance in a few long strikes with his long golden hair flying wildly in the wind. Cailan flashed a charming wide grin and exchanged a friendly handshake with the older Warden. "I was beginning to worry you'd miss all the fun!"
"Not if I could help it, Your Majesty." The look on Duncan's face was strained, yet the young King did not seem to notice.
"Then I'll have the mighty Duncan at my side in the battle after all! Glorious!" Cailan grinned excitedly. "The other Wardens told me you've found a promising recruit."
"Allow me to introduce to you, Your Majesty."
Cailan waved a dismissive hand instead. "No need, Duncan. We have met on more than a few occasions. Lady Samantha Cousland," greeted Cailan as he studied her rather curiously.
"Greetings, Your Majesty." Samantha dipped into a proper curtsey reflectively despite the lack of a dress. Years of being trained as a proper noble lady had honed her manners until it became her second nature.
"No need to be so formal, my lady. We'll be shedding blood together, after all." He flashed a handsome smile before he looked her over casually a few times. "Although I have to say, you have certainly grown into a fair young lady since I last saw you. Was it last year? You look... different."
Samantha shifted self-consciously under the friendly icy blue gaze. Of course she looked different than when she last met the King. Long silk dress had been replaced by leather armor, once elaborately braided impeccable golden hair was now up in a simple long ponytail, errand strands hanging on the sides of her face. Gone were the necklaces, earrings, and jeweled hairpins. The Cousland heirloom sword and the Rose's Thorn were the only accessories she had beside her own ruby pendant and her mother's locket.
"Well, Duncan, I can't say I'm not surprised to see Bryce's youngest here. What did you say to the good Teyrn to convince him to let go of his Rose of Highever?" teased the King.
Samantha winced inwardly at both the nature of the question and the nickname she despised so much – an unimaginative and cliched title given to her by some noble suitor whom she absolutely hated since then because of it. A title that had caught on so fast, within weeks the entire Highever had known about it. That happened merely three years or so ago, but standing here as a Grey Warden recruit, it felt as if those days had been a lifetime away.
"Your Majesty..." Duncan hesitated.
"Do you not know what has happened?" asked Samantha. She was out of line, she knew, but her patience was wearing thin.
Not at all offended, the King offered a casual shrug. "News from the north has been unreliable. What's happened?"
"Teyrn Cousland and his wife are dead, Your Majesty. Arl Howe has shown himself a traitor and overtaken Highever Castle. Had we not escaped, he would have killed us and told you any story he wished," Duncan informed his King in a hush tone. No doubt he wished to avoid the gossips from spreading, to prevent the morale of the soldier to be shaken by such news. Yet, all Samantha wanted was to yell from the top of her lungs and declared Howe as a traitor and a murderer.
The icy blue eyes of the King's widened in utter shock, his jaws slacked in disbelief. "I... can scarcely believe it! How could he think he would get away with such treachery!" Cailan's cheerful demeanor turned serious as he glanced over to Samantha. "As soon as we are done here, I will turn my army north and bring Howe to justice. You have my word," vowed the King sincerely.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." The corners of her lips reflectively curled up in a faint polite smile that never reached her eyes. Part of the weight that had been dragging her down since the massacre at Highever was now lifted. The King was informed, and he promised justice to be served. Now, one thing she had left to do was to find her brother.
"No doubt you wish to see your brother." Cailan's voice was gentle, his face kind and sympathetic. "Unfortunately, he and his men are scouting in the Wilds."
"I am not eager to tell him, Your Majesty." Samantha wasn't quite sure why she would bother the King with her thoughts. Perhaps his friendly and sympathetic demeanor invited her to let her guard down, if for a brief moment. Or perhaps it was some long forgotten secret infatuation she once had for the then dashing Prince on the eve of his coronation – such a silly childish fantasy when she was but a foolish girl at the age of fourteen. A fascination that was gone almost as soon as it came, with a lifespan no longer than a blooming rose in hot summer days.
"Of that, I have no doubt," Cailan put a gloved hand on her shoulder. The weight of his armor glove felt rather heavy, yet oddly comforting. "You will see him again once the battle is over. I am certain. I apologize, but there is nothing more I can do. All I can suggest is that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being."
What more could she expect from the King? An immediate invasion up north? No, her father would not approve of such selfish request. It was the Couslands' duty to protect Ferelden. And Ferelden was now under the attack of darkspawn, justice could wait. Yet, Samantha couldn't help but feel disappointed by the delay of justice. Biting the inside of her cheek to still herself from an inappropriate and ill-mannered outburst, Samantha took a long breath to compose herself. With the polite mask of the proper Lady Cousland firmly intact, Samantha dipped into another perfect curtsey. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
Samantha was instructed by Duncan to find another Grey Warden named Alistair. A helpful guard by the bridge had told her exactly where that man had gone to. Samantha took her time to slowly approached the old temple where the Warden was, absorbing everything around her carefully. Soldiers from different cities were gathering in groups. Some were just chatting, others getting their blessings from chantry sisters. Samantha recognized a few distinctive groups of soldiers based on the crests on their respective shields: Denerim and Highever included. The Lady Cousland deliberately stayed far away from the Highever soldiers, not wanting not draw attention to herself. Duncan had the right idea: they should not be informed about the fall of Castle Cousland just yet. It would certainly hurt their morale or perhaps even endanger their lives at the upcoming battles.
With that thought in mind, Samantha quickened her pace and sought refugee in the ruined temple. Thankfully, it was mostly empty with only two men inside. The older man was a mage, the younger one was clad in splintmail. It didn't take much effort to guess which one of them was Alistair.
Samantha stood afar from a polite distance and waited for the Warden to be done with his business. Even though she couldn't hear their exact words, the exchange between the two men seemed heated, at least from the mage's side. The younger man merely flashed his grin once in a while as he retorted vividly.
"Enough!" the mage suddenly yelled loud enough for Samantha to hear. "I will speak to the woman if I must! Get out of my way, fool!"
He stormed passed her without sparing her a glance. Samantha was baffled, wondering if she should follow him or wait here for him to return.
"You know..." came a smooth voice that captured her attention. She turned and saw the young man approaching her with a smile of amusement. "One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together."
"Sorry, what?" Samantha raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Oh, nothing," he said with a friendly smile and a shrug. "Just trying to find a bright side to all this." The young man paused and regarded her curiously. "Wait, we haven't met, have we? I don't suppose you happen to be another mage?"
To that, Samantha could only shake her head at the strange question asked by the even stranger man. Did she even look like a mage in her leather armor? "I am sorry, but I am not a mage."
"Ah, good. Less being yelled at for me, then. Though the day is still young." Sarcasm laced through his tone as one corner of his lips twitched up in a tiny smirk. Just then, a thought seemed to hit him as he lit up. "Wait, I do know who you are. You're Duncan's new recruit, from Highever."
Samantha blinked hard in surprise. He was Alistair? She'd presumed that mage was...
"I should have recognized you right away. I apologize." He offered a charming smile.
There was a mild panic flashed inside her head. Did he recognize her as the Lady Cousland of Highever? "...Recognized me?" she asked tentatively.
He laughed. "Duncan sent words. Young, female, blonde." He raised a finger per description. "Although he didn't say it's a pretty girl."
A fine eyebrow arched high at his last sentence. It would be a lie if she said she had never been told that she was beautiful. What she never expected was to hear it so casually from a Grey Warden, one from a well-respected and rather mysterious group of warriors. Was this young man truly even a Warden?
The young man turned a hint of pink and rubbed the back of his neck. "Er... forget I said that."
She looked at the man in front of her anew. She had thought all Wardens were older. The young man appeared to be around her age, or at most a year or two older. With short dark blond hair almost a shade of light brown, his hazel eyes warm, his smile friendly and inviting. That was certainly not the image of Grey Wardens she had formed in her mind based on Master Aldous' lessons. The Grey Wardens were supposed to be the strongest and bravest warriors who fought the Blights fearlessly. Duncan was the perfect image of a Warden. But not Alistair. In truth, instead of a fearless Grey Warden, he reminded her of a pup. A happy and friendly puppy, and someone else she couldn't quite put her finger on...
The human pup seemed very amused by her stare. Embarrassed by her rather rude behavior, Samantha quickly recovered and squared her shoulders out of habits. Proper posture was essential for a lady, as her mother had drilled into her throughout her life. "And you must be Alistair," said Samantha with a polite nod.
Hazel eyes lit up. "Did Duncan mention me? Nothing bad, I hope." He peered at her hopefully.
She did not have the heart to tell him Duncan only mentioned him by his name and nothing else. It would feel too much like kicking puppies. Yet, she did not want to lie. So instead, Samantha settled with a neutral shake of her head.
Alistair let out a breath he'd been holding then composed himself quickly. "Well, as the junior member of the order, I'll be accompanying you when you prepare for the Joining."
"Pleased to meet you. My name is Samantha-" She caught herself before 'Cousland' floated out.
"Right. That was the name," said the Warden rather charmingly. "Duncan spoke quite highly of you in his letter."
"He was just being kind," Samantha deflected, trying to steer away from unwanted attention. She briefly wondered if Alistair knew who she was. If he did, there was no indication.
"Duncan? No. He is not the type to give out empty flattery." Alistair seemed genuinely impressed by her for getting Duncan's praise. Samantha couldn't help but wonder if Duncan's approval was the ultimate treat this human pup craved for.
Samantha merely willed her lips to curl up politely without giving a response. She was not about to tell him Duncan had traveled to Highever in hope to recruit her.
Her lack of response did not deter the friendly young man from continuing with the conversation. "You know... it just occurred to me that there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens." Hazel eyes looked her over with a teasing smile. "I wonder why that is?"
Her cheeks heated up slightly despite herself, she dismissed that involuntary physical reaction by masking it with her long-perfected poise. Sky blue eyes landed squarely on warm hazel ones. "I suppose I can handle myself better than most women." It was a simple fact stated with a neutral tone, balancing gracefully on the fine line between arrogance and humility.
The grin on his face widened. "I'm getting that impression," said Alistair almost flirtatiously.
Again, she chose not to respond. Her gaze dropped with yet another polite curl on her lips. To her surprise, this time, the smile came with ease.
Still not discouraged by her quietness, Alistair drove the conversation to another topic. "So, I'm curious: Have you ever actually encountered darkspawn before?"
Samantha shook her head, long golden tail sent flying behind her head. "No, I haven't."
"When I fought my first one, I wasn't prepared for how monstrous it was. I can't say I'm looking forward to encountering another." A deep frown appeared on his friendly face as he recalled that particular encounter. To his credit, he recovered quickly. "Anyhow, whenever you're ready let's head back to Duncan. I imagine he's eager to get things started."
She nodded in agreement. "I look forward to traveling with you," said Samantha politely. A Cousland should never forget her manners.
"You do? Huh. That's a switch." His self-deprecating sarcasm came back momentarily, then came a flash of a charming smile. "Let's go."
Samantha knotted her eyebrows, digging deep into her memory, as she walked along the stone-paved path of the Ostagar camp. The young Warden walking casually by her side had her perplexed at the moment. He reminded her of someone, but much to her annoyance, that particular someone's face slipped through her mind. She was almost certain she had met Alistair before. That puppy-like face of his looked too familiar. Samantha finally decided to take the matters into her own hands and asked, "Have we met before?"
An eyebrow shot up as Alistair regarded the newest recruit. He seemed more amused than surprised by the question. "Oh, I'm sure I would remember if we had. Trust me," said the young man with a chuckle.
Samantha frowned in mild frustration. She shook her head before tilting it to the side to search deeper into her mind. It was such a trivial matter, pointless even. She knew she was being foolish to be bothered by it. But anything that would take her mind off the pain from her recent loss as well as the anxiety of the unknown future was a welcome distraction.
"Something wrong?" asked Alistair as he shot her a weird look.
She began to shake her head in dismissal, but something off in the distance caught her eyes: two big colorful tents with heavy guards standing outside. No doubt they belonged to King Cailan...
King Cailan! That was it! Samantha's eyes lit up as the answer popped inside her head. She turned and glanced at her taller companion. Despite the difference in hairstyle, both hair and eye colors, she could definitely see the resemblance in their features. Especially their eyes and noses. Even their friendly mannerism and their easy charm were very much alike, so much so it was downright uncanny. Still, Samantha knew King Cailan was the only child of the late King Maric. The similarities shared by these two men must have been just a joke by the Maker.
Alistair shifted uncomfortably under her unintentional scrutiny. "What is it? Do I even want to know?" he asked with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Samantha shut her eyes for a few seconds to stop herself from marveling at the eerie coincidence. "I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. You remind me of someone, and I just realized who it was."
Instead of being curious, as any normal people would in his situation, Alistair froze in his tracks and cleared his throat. "Well... I suppose I have a common face."
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," commented Samantha lightly. Being resembled to the King was anything but common.
He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around rather nervously. "Er, look, Ser Jory is there. Let's go get him and get back to Duncan." The Warden walked ahead and quickened his pace, leaving his charge behind.
Judging from his sudden eagerness to keep a distance from her, undoubtedly the young man would think of her as weird from now on. But, it mattered not, for the mystery was solved. A small victory to brighten the darkness that had been engulfing her. Satisfied, Samantha shrugged with a faint smile and followed. It did not even occur to her that this was the very first time her lips curled up with ease – albeit faintly – without the pretense of politeness ever since that fateful night.
The healing had truly begun.