The Prologue continues, hope you enjoy where the story goes.

This will be the last chapter in the prologue and then the real story will continue. I'm trying out a different writing style in the first two chapters, so I hope you like it. I've rewritten this chapter several times as I haven't always been happy with it.

As always enjoy the chapter and please leave a review, a few words are better than none and it lets me know what people think. Apologies for the late upload… I have been camping in Cornwall… no internet or electricity!

-TheLyonesse-

Prologue

Far away from Ostagar, almost at the other side of the country, a young woman is lying on a luxurious bed. Her chocolate brown hair is matted from the exertion of labour, her violet eyes are widened with fright. The enormous swell of her belly blocks her view of what is happening, the mage doing her best to ease the pain of the birth. Her husband sits quietly by her side, wiping her brow and squeezing her hand, murmuring words of comfort to his distressed wife.

Castle Cousland has burst to life, servants coming and going with warm towels, blankets and water for their mistress. She doesn't notice them, mind only focused on the immense pain her soon to be child is causing her. The mage murmur's a spell and the pain is lifted a little, but the woman is overcome with a desperate urge to push.

This is Aurora Cousland's first child and at only sixteen years old, her body is not quite ready for the trauma. She pushes and screams as she feels everything as the tiny child fights its way into the world. Her screams ring out in the velvety blackness of the night, causing those within earshot to stop and listen a while, wondering what is unfolding within the castle walls. Rowan Cousland shifts uncomfortably, unable to do anything to ease his wife's pain. She is exhausted and can push no more.

A gust of wind forces its way through the window and bounces off the walls, before whipping around Aurora's legs. She screams out in surprise at the freezing wind as it seems to enter her. Her whole body tingles, feels like it's on fire, she cannot scream, she cannot move. She is terrified. Then, as suddenly as the sensation came, it stops. Aurora lays still for a moment, her eyes wide and shining with tears, before her body jolts her back to reality and tells her to push. After a few more moments she feels relief as the babe is pushed into the world, gasps elicited from everyone in the room.

"It's a girl" she hears the mage shriek with excitement, wrapping the child up in blankets. Her husband is kissing her head, his smile radiant and infectious and she can't help but smile back at him. Her daughter is placed into her arms, a beautiful sight to behold. Her hair is her fathers, black as a raven's wing and thick, already curling, her eyes are a Cousland trait… large and violet and shining like beacons in the night.

She smiles at her daughter, love rushing through her veins, knowing she will never let a soul harm her.

"Sophia" she murmurs to the room "Welcome to the world Sophia Cousland"

A few miles away from Highever, the city of Denerim lies silent under the thick blanket of night. The only activity comes from a mage, dressed in pale robes, hurrying across the Courtyard of the Palace. He makes his way quickly across the cobbles and nods to the burly guards at the enormous, double doors. Once inside, his feet find their destination quickly and within moments he's standing outside the carved doors to the Royal Quarters, listening to the faint cries from within.

He pushes the heavy doors and strides into the room, all eyes are on him as he marches toward the whimpering woman.

She is led on the floor in front of the fireplace, clearly unable to make it to the bed. Her strawberry blonde hair is matted and sticking to her face, her breaths short and quick. The King is standing solemnly, watching his precious wife deliver the future heir, daring not to interfere with the birth. The mage positions himself at Grace Theirin's feet, she is crowning, the baby is well on its way. She locks her blue eyes onto his, terrified of the ordeal and he tries his best to soothe her, muttering a healing spell to take away some of the pain.

"Is she…alright?" Lyndon Theirin's voice breaks into the mages mind, it's heavy with worry. He turns to face the King, his grey eyes locking onto his honeyed ones, filled with an unspeakable panic.

"She is well, my Lord… the babe is almost with us" A look of relief spreads across the King's face. He kneels next to his wife and takes her slender hand into his, soothing her with words of comfort. She begins to push, frantic screams escaping from her throat, her husband trying to keep her calm. The room is warm and he can feel her skin burning up under his hands, rivulets of sweat coursing their way down her skin.

A gust of wind blows down the chimney, extinguishing the flames on entry. It seems to travel around the room, venturing over and under anything that gets in its way. It hovers above the mage before whipping around the young Queen's legs, making the air reverberate around her. She feels a pushing sensation as the wind seems to enter her, causing her whole body to tingle and tremble. Her voice is lost in her throat, her legs as heavy as stone. She is unable to move, unable to do anything to stop the unusual sensation. Then, as soon as it came… it's gone, her body slowly coming back to normality. Grace feels an urgent need to push and as she does she howls in pain, causing all those nearby to stop what they are doing. A few more pushes and a tiny baby is pushed into the world. It's a boy, his hair as strawberry blonde as his mother's… his eyes as honeyed as his father's. Grace feels her husband's lips upon hers as he welcomes his son into the world, a huge smile settled onto his handsome face.

"Welcome to Ferelden, my son… one day all of this will be yours" He picks up his son and walks him over to the window, staring at the stillness of the night "You will be named after the greatest king Ferelden has ever known; Calanhad. My Calan, you are the greatest joy a father could ask for" He places a kiss on his sons forehead before handing him back to the waiting arms of his wife. The babe nestles into her bosom, searching furiously for a nipple, taking a much needed drink from the globes of life.

She allows her son the meal he so desires and silently thanks the Maker for a healthy baby, the boy both she and her husband had so desperately wanted. He would be their third child, joining Aurelia and Ophelia; twins two years Calan's senior.

The years that followed the birth of these two precious children were filled with happiness and love, though their unusual personalities didn't escape the eyes of the people of Ferelden.

Sophia Cousland was perhaps the most unusual, distant and erratic, often looking as if she didn't belong. She styled her hair in ancient, long forgotten styles and wore dresses of yesterdays fashion, often at the expense of laughter from the other noble women. It took Sophia a long time to understand the fashion of Ferelden, even once she'd got the hang of it, she still clung to her ancient hairstyles. Only wearing modern ones to special events.

Calan Theirin was not so unusual, but he definitely did not share his father's love of ruling. He wanted nothing more than to escape the confines of the Palace and seek out his own adventures in the world of Thedas. He was frequently caught running away from the Palace and his so called duty, dragged back kicking and screaming and chastised by his mother. Calan was also an incredibly talented swordsman and his father had often told him if he wasn't Prince, he'd make a fine Knight, those were Calan's favourite compliments.

Soul mates, they say, will wait for an eternity to be together, crossing oceans and passing mountains to be in each others arms. Death is merely a barrier of time.