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9:24, Highever

After learning of his daughter's distress, Teyrn Cousland sent for her to join him and Eleanor in the parlour, where the family spent much of their free time together. Caroline had sloped in, dragging her feet behind her, causing her mother to groan and roll her eyes as years of her daughter's instruction in comportment had seemed to vanish in an instant.

"You wanted to see me, Mother, Father?" Caroline had asked wearily, puffy-eyed and red-nosed, standing stiffly with her hands folded behind her back.

"Sit down, pup," her father had softly said. "Let us talk."

She did as instructed and, remembering that her mother placed so much importance on her bearing and mien, sat with a straight back at the edge of the chair, her legs crossed at the ankles beneath, with her hands folded in her lap.

"Pup," her father began, "your Mother has made me aware of your feelings towards Nathaniel. Before Arl Howe departed, I had a private word with him…"

Caroline's eyes lit up and she looked hopefully at her father.

"…please, pup, let me finish," he said, holding his hand up, his heart aching as he noticed the slump of her shoulders. "I am afraid he is quite adamant about his plans for Nathaniel. However," he added with a wary glance at Eleanor, "he did suggest Thomas as a possible suitor, instead-"

"Thomas?" Caroline interrupted, not even trying to hide her distaste. "Thomas? Do you really think so little of me, Father, that you would have me hitched to that… that… ugh! He makes my skin crawl!"

"Caroline, please," Eleanor said sternly. "You speak of the future Bann of Amaranthine," although secretly she was pleased by her daughter's response. She had no desire to see Caroline wedded to Thomas Howe who was, quite frankly, a snake – just like his father.

Caroline, forgetting her posture, slumped in her chair and folded her arms, glowering out of one of the windows.

"Lady Landra has also informed me that Dairren is quite taken with you," Eleanor ventured.

Caroline laughed loudly and bitterly. "Ha! I think you would find Thomas Howe to be a more suitable match for him. Haven't you heard? He was caught in a compromising position with one of the-"

"That's quite enough, Caroline!" Bryce said firmly. "Young ladies do not give voice to gossip and rumours. You will not repeat that again – have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, Father," she replied flatly without looking at him.

Bryce, at a loss, sighed and shook his head. Never before had he known his daughter to be so belligerent or sullen.

"Pup," he said in a softer tone, "wait outside for a moment while your Mother and I talk."

Without looking at her parents, Caroline rose. "Fine," she muttered. "I'll wait outside while you decide my future."

"Bryce, this is intolerable," she heard her mother say as she closed the door and slumped against it.

She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, feeling the sting of guilt at the back of her throat. She loved her parents dearly, and knew that this was not their fault, but they clearly had no idea how she felt. She was sixteen years old, and they still treated her like a child, deciding what was best for her! What did they know about love? They'd had an arranged marriage!

Although her parents' marriage was a strong one – they were unusual among Ferelden's nobility in that they shared a bed chamber – Caroline vowed there and then that they would not force her into marrying anyone she didn't want to be with – and she intended not to want to bewith anybody. Yes, she'd end up as a cackling, toothless old spinster who owned twenty cats. No, fifty. That would show them!

Eventually, the door opened, Bryce called her inside, and invited her to sit down.

"Pup, your Mother and I have decided…"

Here it comes, she thought, preparing herself for an argument.

"…as Oriana has just given birth to Oren, that an heir to the Cousland House is now assured," he continued. Caroline frowned and her eyes darted back and forth between her parents.

"If you truly have your heart set on marrying Nathaniel, pup, then you have our blessing to wait for him to return from the Free Marches."

Eleanor smiled warmly as Caroline stared mutely at the two of them.

"Now, I must speak to Seamus about the drainage problem in the northern field of the estate," he said as he rose with a groan and placed a hand on Caroline's shoulder. "We'll speak later, pup. Stay with your mother for a spell. For some reason, she can never find you when she wants you, lately – particularly during the Howes' recent visit," he added with a smirk.

"Father, I…I-" Caroline stammered, turning in her chair to face him as he opened the door.

"It's all right, pup. Your mother and I may be old, but not too old to remember when we were first promised to one another," he said as he and Eleanor shared a loving glance. "I'll be back in time for supper," he declared, closing the door.

Eleanor patted the seat that Bryce had occupied, and a dumbstruck Caroline joined her on the settee.

"Mother… I-I'm sorry…"

"Hush, dear," Eleanor said soothingly, stroking her daughter's hair. "I remember having a similar conversation to this with my parents when I was not much older than you are, now. They had another man – not your father – in mind for me, but I had met your father several times by then, and had fallen head over heels in love with him."

"Mother?" Caroline said in astonishment. "I thought that you and Father had had an arranged marriage?"

"We did," Eleanor replied with a sly smile, "but our parents were not quite aware of how strong our feelings already were." She leaned closer to Caroline and whispered. "I worked on my parents, and convinced them that one day your father would become the teyrn of Highever, and that such a marriage would be most beneficial to our family. Eventually, I persuaded them, and my father congratulated me on my far-sightedness."

Caroline gaped in awe at her mother, seeing her in a completely new light.

"I knew, even at such a young age, that your father was the man I wanted to marry," Eleanor elaborated. "I knew that I would not settle for any other, and am glad that I did not, for I have never once regretted my choice. I can see that you are just as determined as I was at your age, darling. Nathaniel is a fine young man – a little serious, perhaps, but better that than to be a fool, and I am certain that you will bring him out of his shell. Your father and I would be pleased to welcome him as a son, when the time is right, of course."

"Oh, Mother!" Caroline gushed, throwing her arms around Eleanor. "Thank you, thank you!"

Eleanor laughed softly and placed a gentle kiss on Caroline's forehead. "Now, I do not know how much longer Nathaniel will be in Ferelden, darling. Perhaps you had better write to him – if you do it now, we have a rider leaving for Denerim tonight. I am certain he will make a detour to Amaranthine for you."

"I shall write to him immediately!" Caroline announced as she shot off the settee and headed for the door, before turning toward the smiling Eleanor. "Oh, Mother," she said and walked back to Eleanor, bent down and embraced her. "I love you so much. I will never be able to repay you and Father for this."

"You will repay us by being happy, my dear," Eleanor said, cradling her daughter's face in her hands, "and by giving us a dozen grandchildren when you and Nathaniel finally wed!"

The two women laughed. "How about fifty!" Caroline trilled, and sailed out of the room with light feet and a song in her heart.

~0~O~0~

9:24, Vigil's Keep

Dear Nathaniel,

I shall make this letter brief as I have to catch the rider before he leaves for Denerim.

I have just heard the dreadful news that you are to be posted overseas. Take heart, though; my parents have assured me that we can still marry, when you return, if that is still your intent.

Father told me that it may be several years before you return to us. I want to make it absolutely clear that I will wait for as long as it takes for you to come home to me, and make me your wife.

Please keep yourself safe, Nathaniel. And if ever you feel lonely, remember that I love you, and will be waiting for you when you come home.

I will count the days until I see you again, my dearest Nathaniel. Take care of yourself.

Carrie. X

Nathaniel folded the letter, placed it in his pocket, and resolved not to read it again for at least another hour for fear of wearing it out, having read it at least twenty times by now. It had arrived that morning, and the timing of its delivery had been fortuitous, for today was the day he departed for the Free Marches. He would be accompanied by two of his father's soldiers, the arl too occupied with arling business to see off his eldest son.

He began walking toward the gardens, where he hoped to find his friend Samuel and bid him farewell. The two of them had become very close over the years; in some ways Nathaniel felt that Samuel was the brother Thomas should have been, although they'd had to exercise caution, as his father did not approve of Nathaniel being friends with a 'knife-ear'.

Before he reached the gate, he turned and looked back at the keep. It was his home, and one day would belong to him, but he had very few happy memories of the place. Although his early years had been happy from what he could remember of them, his teenage years had been anything but; his mother had died during childbirth two years earlier in 9:22, his sister had been sent away shortly after that, and his relationships with both his father and brother had always been troubled.

He turned away from the keep, checked that Caroline's letter was safely stowed in his pocket, and entered the gardens.

He found Samuel hard at work digging up potatoes. The elf stopped for a moment, braced his hands against his back and grimaced as he stretched.

"You poor old sod," Nathaniel teased from behind him. "Is this getting too much for you, old man?"

Samuel turned towards Nathaniel and laughed, mopping his face with a handkerchief. "I'd like to see you dig potatoes when you're about to reach your fiftieth year!"

Nathaniel sighed and looked into the distance. "I'm sorry I won't be here to celebrate your birthday with you, Samuel."

"Hey! At least you were here for your sixteenth, and we'll celebrate mine when you return home, Nate," Samuel promised with a slap to Nathaniel's arm.

"It may be several years before I return," said Nathaniel with a sly grin, "and by then you may only have one or two marbles rolling around in your head."

"Cheeky young stripling," Samuel replied, unable to conceal his grin. An awkward silence followed; they both knew that Nathaniel had come to say goodbye.

"So you're off, then?" Samuel asked with false bonhomie. "Looking forward to your big adventure, Nate?"

Nathaniel shrugged his shoulders and huffed. "I don't know. Part of me won't be sad to leave. There's not much for me to stay here for anymore, not after… after... Mother."

"I know, son," Samuel replied, and silence once again descended.

Nathaniel grunted softly to himself. "Maybe… maybe Father will finally be able to find a few kind words for me if I prove myself as a squire."

Samuel looked at the ground, sorely tempted to finally tell Nathaniel exactly what he thought of his father.

"Samuel," Nathaniel said after a few moments. "I wanted to thank you."

"Nate, there's no need-"

"I wanted to thank you," Nathaniel repeated, "for everything you've done for me, and for being such a good friend to me. Probably the best friend I've ever had."

"Oh, go on, away with you," said Samuel, waving him away, but he was clearly moved by the youngster's words. "You don't want to be late."

Nathaniel held out his hand and Samuel shook it. Then, casting a quick look around, the elf held his arms open, and the two men embraced, quickly pulling apart and clearing their throats.

"Samuel?" Nathaniel asked quietly, taking a sealed note out of his pocket. "I was wondering if I could ask one more thing of you?"

"Anything, Nate, you know that."

"The next time the Couslands come to visit, I was wondering…"

"Ah, it's for Lady Caroline, is it?" Samuel asked, spotting the note.

"Yes," Nathaniel replied, and handed it to the elf. "Please make sure she gets it. She-she…" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "She has promised herself to me, and says she will wait until I return, with her parents' blessing," he confided as a soppy grin lit up his dark features.

"That's wonderful, Nate!" Samuel exclaimed happily.

"In my note I have also promised to save myself for her."

"Woah, I don't want to know what's on the note," Samuel chuckled. "I promise she will have it as soon as her family next visit."

"Will you tell her that as soon as I am settled, I will write to her with an address she can reply to? I don't know if I will be stationed at Bann Regis' estate, or if I will travel, but whatever I'm doing, I'll get word to her."

"Sure, Nate. She's a lovely girl – I'm really happy for you," Samuel replied.

Nathaniel shook his head and grinned. "She is lovely. I really have no idea what she sees in me, but she's made a promise now, and it's too late for her to back out!"

"Whatever it takes to get the girl, huh, Nate?" Samuel said with a wink.

"Precisely. You know, if it weren't for her, then I doubt I'd return to Ferelden at all," Nathaniel replied sadly and once again held his hand out to Samuel, the two friends shaking hands for the final time. "Farewell, Samuel. Do look after yourself."

"You too, Nate – it won't be the same here without you," Samuel answered as Nathaniel released his hand and walked away without a backward glance.

~0~O~0~

9:32, Vigil's Keep

"He's been locked up for three nights now, Commander. Good men died while he was safely locked in his cell."

"Let me talk to him," said Caroline.

"As you wish, Commander. The seneschal will want to know what you want doing with him. A gallows is being erected outside as we speak."

Anders who, with Oghren, had accompanied the Commander, grabbed the jailor's arm and stopped him. "A gallows? Isn't that a bit extreme for a burglar?"

"This is no mere burglar, Warden. It took four of the Orlesian Wardens to get him into his cell, and he still managed to knock one of them out cold. He's dangerous."

Oghren grunted. "Still, you've gotta admire the stones on the kid – breaking into a fortress full of Grey Wardens? He's got some nerve – either that, or he's soft in the head."

"I think either possibility is likely, Oghren," Caroline groaned with a none-too-subtle glance at Anders. "We seem to attract those kinds of people, don't we?"

"Oy!" the mage protested, feigning a pout.

"Present company excepted, of course," she reassured him with a wink.

"Well, if you'll follow me, Commander, I'll take you to the cells," said the jailor.

"Lead on," she instructed.

The jailor took them down a flight of steps which led to the basement; there were three cells, one on the far wall, and two on the left. A small desk and chair sat against the right-hand wall, above which a torch was lit. The intermittent dripping of water could be heard, and the overpowering smell of stale urine and damp rot assailed them as soon as they entered. Anders started retching immediately, then snorted and spat into a corner.

"Sorry," he said contritely to Caroline, who had covered her nose with her sleeve.

She nodded and beckoned the jailor to her. "You work in here?" she asked in a muffled voice.

He shook his head. "I spend as little time down here as possible," he admitted. "I only come down here when the prisoner gets his food and when it's time for slopping out. It's not a nice place. Arl Howe's soldiers used to spend a couple of nights in here if they didn't come up to his exacting standards. Poor Captain Lowan was banged up a few times, as well, before…" He paused, shaking his head.

"You mean the captain of the guard?" Caroline asked. "Before what?"

The jailor gulped and shifted nervously. "A few years back, the arl ordered Captain Lowan to do something which the captain disagreed with, and he told the Arl so. Not long after that, he disappeared, and was never heard of again. Garavel took over as captain two years ago."

"What did Lowan disagree with?" she asked.

"That, I don't know, Commander," the jailor lied; Captain Lowan had in fact been vehemently opposed to the arl's plan to murder the Cousland family.

Caroline nodded, and the jailor was relieved that she could not properly see his face in the gloom.

"Look, I'm sorry," Anders began, "but can we get this over with? I really don't want to stay down here any longer than we have to."

"Yes, good idea," Caroline agreed, making a mental note to speak to the jailor in more detail later on.

He led them over to a cell set into the left-hand wall. "This is the one," he said, taking out his keys and unlocking the door with his sword ready. As the door was opened, a small amount of light from the torch on the opposite wall entered the cell, revealing the outline of a man reclined on his cot with his long, booted legs crossed at the ankle – his face, however, was concealed by the shadows.

"Stand, prisoner!" The jailor ordered. "The warden-commander is here to see you."

A rasping laugh could be heard from within the cell. "The entertainments have finally arrived, have they?" the prisoner mocked.

The jailor gestured with his hand for Caroline to enter the cell, but she hesitated and shook her head before raising a finger to her lips as the jailor gave her a puzzled look.

"Sit back down!" the jailor commanded, waving his sword at the prisoner.

The prisoner huffed. "Sit down, stand up – do you want me to do a little dance for you as well?"

"What's the matter?" Anders whispered to her.

Caroline walked away from the cell, stood next to the basement entrance and stared into space. Anders and Oghren exchanged a confused glance, and Anders approached her, stopping a few feet away.

"Commander?"

She turned and looked at Anders, the torchlight making the confusion in her eyes evident. "I, um," she began, and then turned away again, shaking her head.

"Do you know him?" Anders asked.

"I-I'm not sure," she said unsteadily. "His voice…" She stared at the far wall and shook her head again. "But it… it couldn't be. It couldn't be."

"Who?"

"Anders," Caroline said, turning toward him and grasping his arms. "Will you talk to him? Without me, I mean – I-I just need to hear him speak some more."

"What shall I talk to him about?"

"Anything – the weather, the price of fish, I don't care. Please."

"All right, all right… just calm down," he soothed. "Come on."

Caroline followed him to the cell, standing well clear of the door. Anders nodded at the guard and entered the cell.

"So," the prisoner began, "they've finally taken pity on me and provided me with some company, have they? Well, you're very pretty, but I'm afraid I don't do men – if that's what you are," he sneered.

"Oh? That's a shame," Anders replied lightly, "because I do, but I normally don't go for the bloodied, battered, pissed-off type, you know? Not my cup of tea."

"My loss, then," the prisoner replied with biting sarcasm. "What do you want?"

"Oh, just the standard Warden welcoming committee," Anders replied. "Just wanted to see if your accommodation was to your liking, that sort of thing."

"It's a real home from home, thank you for asking," the prisoner spat. "Maker, don't tell me you're the warden-commander, because Amaranthine is well and truly fucked if you are."

"Well, now you've definitely ruined your chances with me," Anders retorted dryly, folding his arms. "Dinner, maybe, but a grope's right out."

"Anders!" he heard Caroline whisper from outside.

He exited the cell and approached Caroline, who had once again moved to the entrance. "Well?" he asked.

"Did you get a look at him?" she asked. "Can you describe him?"

"It was hard to make him out in detail," he answered, "but he had dark hair – brown or black, long, and braided at the sides."

Caroline frowned for a moment. "Anything else?"

"His eyes," Anders answered immediately with a shudder. "Very, very pale and cold-looking. He sent a shiver down my spine when he looked at me. He's tall, and is wearing leather armour – you know, the kind with a skirt? And gloves, too – he looks like an archer to me."

Caroline leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.

"You do know him, don't you?" Anders guessed. "Who is he?"

She opened her eyes and looked at her feet. For a moment she didn't answer, and Anders waited patiently for her to speak.

"You know I mentioned briefly… my family… what happened to them?"

"It's all right, I know what you mean – you don't need to go into detail," Anders replied in concern.

"What is he doing here?" she asked herself, then faced Anders and took a deep breath. "That-that's Rendon Howe's son, Nathaniel."

Anders's eyes flashed in the dim light. "What?" he fumed, removing his staff from the strap on his back. "I'll save them the trouble of hanging the bastard!"

"No, wait!" she pleaded, grabbing his arm as he turned away from her. "Wait," she whispered.

"Did he have something to do with what happened?" Anders demanded, his voice uncharacteristically hard.

"I-I don't know!" she cried, and laid a hand over her chest, breathing rapidly.

"Hey, just calm down," Anders said softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

"No, Anders – he couldn't have. He couldn't… I know him. Well, at least I thought I did," she mumbled. "He was in the Free Marches. He couldn't have had anything to do with it. I-I wonder when he got back to Ferelden?"

Anders listened as she debated with herself. "When did he leave for the Free Marches?" he asked.

"Uh, 9:24."

"That was nearly eight years ago. He might not be the person you remember. Look," he said quietly. "Let me question him – you don't need to see him at all. He doesn't even need to know you're here."

Caroline considered his offer for a moment; for the past two years she had struggled with her grief over the loss of her family, and only lately had she started to feel more like her old self – and she wasn't sure if she was ready to relive it all again.

"No, I have to know," she said to Anders, not sounding entirely sure of herself. "I have to hear it from him. I can't believe that he had anything to do with it… but I need to hear it. Can you understand that?"

Anders sighed. "Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Just be careful, Commander – he's, well, he doesn't seem like a very nice person to me."

"But he used to be – when I knew him, at least."

"Do you want to get this out of the way, then?" he asked, and Caroline nodded. Anders walked back into the cell, lit the torch within and exited, feeling the prisoner's eyes boring holes into his back.

"Good luck, Commander," he whispered to Caroline as she slowly stepped into the cell.