She examined herself in her lavender dress, sewn with gold lining across the lapel line and dazzled with diamonds below the embroidery. Her pale neck, bare and empty, was soft and smooth as she ran the tips of her fingers across her collar bones. She exhaled softly and slipped each of her arms out of the dress and pulled it down to her waist. She folded the beautiful piece and placed it nicely on her bed. Turning back to the mirror, she gazed at herself for a long while. She studied her complexion; her small nose, her soft, pink lips. She watched the way her eyelashes batted at her cheekbones, and how her eyes radiated and stood out from the rest of her. Her dark hair waved lightly down to her breasts and wisped at the ends. She smirked and glared at her chest, eyeing her womanly feature. They were nestled there, tight in her bra, almost spilling out from it. They had gotten much bigger over the years… she sighed and gazed at her waist. It was small and smooth as velvet, and her hips curved gracefully and led to her thighs.

Was she beautiful? How would she know? Eventually her father would arrange a marriage for her if she had not found a suitable partner. She had come across many men in her life, but she never had taken to any of them, really. She had caught boys staring at her luridly and commenting her for her looks, and all she would do was smile awkwardly and mutter a thank you. As a girl, she would sit by her windowsill and look to the stars in the distance, dreaming of a dashing knight, one who fought dragons and such, defeated dastardly creatures with a swift twist of his sword, and who was so handsome that the heavens had made him specifically to be ogled by women. These thoughts floated in her thoughts many nights, and she wondered if she would ever find such a man as this… Though it was unlikely if she stayed in this castle for the remainder of her life.

In the corner of the mirror, she saw Thaddeus lying on his stomach. She turned to look at him, his brown eyes weary from a long day. He yawned, and then rested his head onto his front paws.

She climbed atop her bed after she clad into a silk nightgown that waved down to her knees. It was late, dark, and the castle had become very quiet. She pondered if Arl Howe's men had made it to the castle yet, or if they had stopped and camped in the forest again. Fergus had already left, and Father was to leave once Howe's soldiers were to arrive, which could be any time now.

Eventually, she grew tired of thinking about all the important matters she would have to take care of on the morrow, taking Father's place in command and all, and nestled into the covers of the bed. Thaddeus had already drifted off to sleep, and finally she closed her eyes and did the same.

She only felt one emotion: fear. She was standing face-to-face with the Archdemon, his taint filling the air with evil. It stood on all fours, staring at her with its scorching eyes, those flaming, dark pupils. The beast screamed a deafening roar, surrounding the area, ready to devour anyone in its path. She was bare of any weapon and stood in her nightgown; she was powerless, hopelessly resigned to the fate of succumbing to this monster.

The district was a deep forest, the trees were set ablaze, and the sky was a deep red. She was alone, all except for a crowd of soldiers standing about. They were armed, but were completely unaware of the situation that was occurring. Among the horde of people was Fergus, yelling her name in piercing cries. Her mother and father were there as well, holding onto one another in each other's arms. Oriana and Oren were amidst the people, as well; the boy clung to his crying mother's throat, screaming with terror into her chest. They were all fashioned in fancy clothing, as if they were attending a party. Soon they all called for her as the Archdemon neared closer and closer. She ran towards the group, but every step she took distorted her vision, blurring everything in sight. She fell onto side, sticks and rubble stabbing her flesh. Soon she could make out the Archdemon's figure. Instead of going for her, it went over to the cluster of hapless people, its movement slow and bloodcurdling. She screamed at it, for the last thing she wanted was for it to harm her family. It paid her no mind and whipped its long, pointed tail in a lashing sensation.

She stood up and darted for them all, tears flying off her dirty cheeks. Her movements quick and agile, the Archdemon cackled at her, its foul breath emitting through its teeth. Suddenly, all of the soldiers turned to a shadowy gas that dissolved into the air, leaving only her family. She screamed louder, ran harder, cried more, but she could never reach them, it seemed. Every step she took drove her further back from them all. There was no way she could stop the beast.

The Archdemon grabbed them all inside of its mouth, there bones crunching beneath its teeth. She wailed desperately, her lungs gasping for air, her heart beating in and out of time. She looked down at the palms of her hands, for she felt a strange pulsing inside of them. A thick shade of dark red oozed from the layer of dirt that caked her hands, dripping from in between the crevices of her fingers and onto the forest floor. Not only were her hands covered in grimy crimson liquid, but soon her arms and legs were smothered in blood. She frantically lifted the top of her nightgown that sheathed her upper body. Beneath her shirt were claw marks and deep scratches, and excruciating pain purged from within her stomach. The deep scrapes stretched all across her chest in an odd pattern, seeming as if they were made by some unholy creature.

Crying with agony, she stared back at the Archdemon. It extended its broad wings and slowly rose from the forest floor, the flapping of its wings pushing heavy winds and particles of debris in all directions. The force of the air put her off balance, the dust crawling into her eyes as she fell down once more. She had no voice left to scream, to yell out for help. She urgently stood back up as the Archdemon soared into the dark sky and out of sight, her legs wobbling from terror, pain, and grief. Suddenly, she heard a rustle in the thorny bushes a few feet behind her. She quickly turned around, but only to be encountered with an oddly shaped beast. It charged towards her, screeching as it ran, and pummeled her to the ground. It pinned her down so she was immobile, then sank its sharp fangs into the side of her throat and-

Rosemary sat up quickly in her bed, her breathing rapid and her face hot and red. Sweat trickled into her eyelids and beside her ears, tears pouring down her cheeks as she gasped for breath. She gazed out the window of her bedroom. The storm had stirred up once more, and heavy fragments of water slammed against the glass, lightning flickering occasionally in the night. Rosemary had a desperate urge to see her body, and pulled the top of her nightdress up and stared, but she found only clean skin. She could not remember what stirred her, what it was that had frightened her so terribly, but it was something malicious. She glanced over to Thaddeus. He barked in a hysterical and uncontrollable manner, lunging at the door of her bedroom. He snarled and growled like a ferocious monster, saliva running out from in between his rows of teeth.

She held the back of her head briefly, a powerful appearance of immense pain striking her. "What's wrong, boy?" Rosemary muttered. "Is someone out there?"

The mabari barked louder at her question, clawing and scratching at the wooden door. She knew that, similar to the incident in the larder, something was definitely wrong.

The sound of screams filled her ears, high and terrified ones, and came from somewhere outside her bedroom, as well as faint clashes of metal. Before she could get out of her bed, the door swung open, and an armed soldier stood panicked at the doorway. His face was distorted with an odd expression, the sword in his hand smeared with human blood.

"My lady!" he yelled. "Help me! The castle is under attack!"

She heard crossbows' fire from a distance, and the soldier instantly fell onto the stone floor, arrows punctured directly into his spine. Rosemary gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. She saw two soldiers that were not of their guild standing a few feet away, weapons in their hands, ready to kill her.

Thaddeus growled and darted outside the room, leaping over the corpse of the dead soldier. Her mind was rushing with all sorts of confusion. What was happening? Why had the castle been under siege in the dead of night, and who had been responsible for it? Was everyone all right?

Rosemary frantically dropped to the floor and reached for her daggers beneath her bed. She had nothing to protect her body, but she ran outside anyway, following her protective dog.

Thaddeus had ran after an archer when she appeared, tearing at the man's chest with his powerful jaws, and after a moment or two of configuring a plan, Rosemary felt an arm tighten around her neck. She pulled away from the soldier that had her locked, slipping from his grasp right in time before he thrust a pike into her spine. She turned around quickly and went for the man's chest, though he defensively blocked her move with his weapon. The soldier shoved her onto the ground, his pike nearly slicing her chest. She rolled over to one side just as he stuck his blade into the ground, the metal of it dulling against the stone as he failed to kill her. Still on the ground, Rosemary swept her leg out, tripping the man. He fell flat on the floor, his nose slamming against the cobblestone. She immediately stood up and drove one of her daggers into his back, blood spurting out from the wound. She wiggled it around, making sure he was dead.

Rosemary watched herself slaughter the soldier. It had happened so quickly that she took a man's life. She felt stiff as a board, watching his blood wither near her feet. She gasped and quickly pulled out her weapon. She was bare of words. Rosemary ran to her mabari's side. He breathed heavily, his brawny chest sucking in and out. He stared up at her, his brown eyes full of energy. The dog barked at her, his teeth shaded a deep red color, his tongue dripping with spit. She didn't know how to respond or what to say… at the time, she was in upmost confusion.

A wooden door up ahead pushed open with violent force. Thaddeus and Rosemary stood readily for another fight, though it was not a guard who had burst through the doorway, but her own beloved mother, a terrified look upon her face. She was clad in reinforced armor made of tough drakeskin, skinned from the hide of a mighty dragon, as their father had told them. Wrapped firmly in one of her hands was a longbow, the limbs of it decorated with exquisite patterns. She ran over to the two of them, her hair pulled tightly in the back of her head.

"Darling!" she said. "I heard fighting outside and I feared the worst! Are you hurt?"

"I was about to ask you that!" she replied.

"They never got through to the door, thanks to you," her mother said to her. She glanced behind her to check if they were safe for the time being. "A scream woke me up," she spoke. "There were men in the hall, so I barred the door." She walked to one of the soldiers lying on the floor and pointed to his shield. A striking crest was engraved into the iron of the shield, intertwining golden vines surrounding the letter H. Rosemary gasped, for she had not taken notice… Arl Rendon Howe!

"These are Howe's men!" her mother exclaimed, returning to her the girl's side. "Why would they attack us?!"

Rosemary clenched her fists around her swords so hard that her knuckles turned white. His men weren't late… they were just waiting for the right time to invade the castle! But why… why would Arl Rendon Howe, a good friend of her father's, turn against the Couslands and start another war than the one already present? It didn't make sense… but she knew one thing: they needed to find her father, and fast.

"He's betrayed Father," she spoke, fury rushing through her body. "He attacks while our troops are gone!"

Rosemary's mother squint her eyes, gritting her teeth so hard Rosemary could almost hear them grinding. "That bastard!" she grumbled. "I'll cut his lying throat myself!"

Rosemary stood quietly, the pain she had earlier revisiting like a preying ghoul…

"Have you seen your Father?" Mother asked her, her face struck in horror. "He never came to bed!"

"Maybe he stayed up with the Arl," Rosemary suggested. Thaddeus whined at her reply, thinking of the worst that could have happened.

"We must find him!" Mother exclaimed, her voice full of fear.

"We should check on Oriana and Oren as well," Rosemary told her, though as soon as she did, he mother became even more panic-stricken. "Andraste's mercy!" she cried. "What if the soldiers went into your brother's room first?" Rosemary was instantly filled with anxiety at Mother's inquiry. What if… what if the soldiers had burst through Fergus's private quarters, where little Oren and his mother slept soundly in their beds? Fergus was long gone with a troop of other recruits, most likely several miles deep into the woods, brushing past the dark wilderness and on his way to aid King Cailan. There was nobody in that quiet room to defend the two innocents, to defeat the group of soldiers that had, or would, that is, creep in and kill them. They had to make sure they were alright… they had to have still been alive… oh, Maker, please, just let them live… Rosemary thought to herself.

Her mother grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the room and down the hallway, Thaddeus following close behind them. "We must find them, quickly!" she exclaimed as she let loose of the grasp on her wrist. "Then we'll look for Bryce downstairs!"

Before they reached Fergus's room, a well dressed soldier darted out from the corner up ahead. He was sheathed in burnished armor crafted from red steel, and a tall helm was positioned tightly on his head, silver wings extending from the sides of it. The helm revealed his entire face so his enemies could look into his eyes, his harsh, blue eyes. A sly curl turned his lips upwards, his plan to murder her and her mother beginning to unfold as he took slow steps toward them.

"You two…" he whispered, his voice croaking, "The commander wants you dead." He chuckled. "And it should be an easy task. You're just some royal whores, is all." He tightened his hand around the haft of his waraxe, so tight that Rosemary could nearly hear his palm rubbing against it. The weapon was sharp and the tip of it twinkled like a star in the night sky. The blade of the axe was crudely shaped like a pendulum, capable of slicing deep into your skin as easily as the snap of a finger. She hesitated as the soldier drew nearer, but her mother retrieved an arrow from the leather quiver on her back, pulling the string of her bow back as the pointed arrow rested in between her fingers. She shut one of her eyes, staring down the man as she waited for the right time to shoot. He furrowed his eyebrows, strategizing how he would kill the old bitch. The soldier then decided to dart straight for them, his thick iron boots thudding against the cold wooden floor. He yelled a bellowing howl, chopping his axe wildly about in the air. Her mother, now sure her shot was going to be accurate, let go of both the arrow and string. The long projectile immediately soared towards the soldier, cutting the air with its sharp head, a small breeze of wind pushing from the speed of the arrow. As she had hoped, the point of the arrowhead stabbed straight into the soldier's forehead, piercing directly in between his two sinister eyes. He lost track of his footing, his legs shaking, the black pupils in his eyes slowly creeping to the back of his eyelids. The man's head pivoted as he fell backward onto the hard floor, the ground shaking as his body plunged into the wood. Rosemary stood in shock; this man hadn't even touched them, made a single tear or scratch on them, and her mother had killed him with a single arrow. How precise her shooting was… she had no idea she could even handle a bow.

They carefully made their way to Fergus's bedroom, cautiously clearing the way down the hallway. They heard fighting, but most of it had seemed to be taking place downstairs. Very few of Howe's men had yet to discover the upper level where they stood, but it would only be a matter of time before a large group of them would barge up the flight of stairs. It was such a mystery to Rosemary as to why this had suddenly happened, why Howe would cruelly turn against them, especially during this time, when the darkspawn were appearing in building numbers from the south. His men were purposely late, this they were sure of, but what of the man, whose lovely wife and rambunctious children spent many days at their castle, the man who was her father's best friend? Why were they an enemy to him now? They couldn't have been any sort of threat to him. He was the Arl of Denerim, living a life of luxury in the capital of Ferelden, the presumed holy city to the worshippers of Andraste, as it was her birthplace. The reason this man ordered his soldiers to storm the castle and slaughter anyone in sight wasn't clear… at least it wasn't yet. She was going to get to the bottom of this, no matter what. They reached the doorway of Fergus's quarters. The door was swung open, and the room was enclosed in darkness. She looked at Mother with a worried expression, not sure if Oren and Oriana were alright like they had presumed. She already began to cry, tears welling up in her hazel eyes, water streaming down her cheeks. Thaddeus whimpered, burying the side of his furry head into her leg. Rosemary stepped inside the room, the blackness consuming her shadow. Her mother and pet followed behind her, unprepared to witness what they already knew had happened.

Though it was dark, she could still see what she needed to.

Lying on the floor were the two corpses of her young nephew and sister-in-law. Their throats were cut open, two long gashes in each of their necks. Blood still crawled from the slits, spreading out onto the cold floor. Their eyes were open, staring into the emptiness of the bedroom. Their faces appeared to be frozen into a distorted and frightened expression, their mouths turned into frowns. Little Oren, his once nicely parted hair that was combed by his mother, was now messy and pulled, pieces of his brown hair ripped from his scalp from where the soldiers had grabbed him by the head; he had been reluctant to doing as the armed men had said. And Oriana, her entire body soaked in blood from her chest down, her dress ripped and mangled.

"Now stand still, boy."

A soldier grabbed Oren by the shoulders, digging his fingers into his arms, for the child had refused to go with him and the rest of his group. The boy cried out for his mother, who was in the grasp of another soldier. Her eyes were filled with tears as the man clamped his hand around her mouth, silencing her screams. The soldier had a sword pointed into her back, just in case Oriana tried to escape from him. He chuckled as the woman who kicked and struggled under his hold, wanting her son to be safe from harm. The boy wiggled underneath the hands of the brawny soldier, though the man only pulled tufts of his hair from his head. "You stop, boy!"

The other soldiers watched as the man ripped the nightgown from Oriana's body. She screamed again from beneath the man's palm, her black hair dripping with sweat. Oren, struck with horror of what they would do to his mother, squirmed even more. The man smacked the back of his head and said roughly "Watch now, boy." Full of fear, Oren was forced to watch his mother and the soldier. But he shut his eyes tightly and yelled "Mama!", drops of tears bursting from underneath his eyelids. He was not sure why this evil man was handling his mother in such a strange way, something that his papa would never allow. He cried for his father, his throat dry and cracked. He knew his papa was off riding in battle with who he called the "good guys", helping to slay big creatures so that everyone would be safe. But Oren only thought that the bad guys were the darkspawn. He did not know that people could be just as evil and twisted as well.

The young boy wished his father was here; to fight off these men, drive them from him and his mother so they could wake up from this nightmare. But it was not a dream. It was real, and little Oren knew this. He listened to his mother cry in terror and pain, the soldiers laugh and cackle. But he did not reopen his pupils. He didn't want to witness his mother being tortured, no matter what the cruel man had told him to do, even if he yanked his hair or hit him or clawed his nails deep into his skin until blood appeared. He would not open his eyes until his mother stopped screaming.

When Oren opened his eyes, he saw his mother covered in red, lying on the floor in her undergarments. "Mama!" he cried. The soldiers peered at the young boy, walking towards him with their long blades in their hands.

"Mama!" But the poor woman did not respond to her son. She lay motionless on the ground, her eyes staring at the ceiling, her blood-soaked body slurring the floor near the soldiers' feet. He couldn't tell if she was breathing. The bad men had gotten to him first before he could cry to her one last time.

Rosemary buried her face in her hands, tears pouring out her eyes. Her heart sank to the bottom of her chest. It was so unbearable, so unbelievable that Howe would order his men to kill her family. It would only be a matter of time before they would kill her father, if they hadn't already, and then she and her mother. What they would do to her dog, Maker knows what, but they would eventually find Fergus, if he lived after the battle, and murder him. That is, if they didn't stop them.

"No!" her mother cried, kneeling down to the floor next to her grandson. She put her hands on his chest, blood staining her palms. She whimpered as did Rosemary, their breathing rapid and unnatural. "Not my little Oren!"

She dropped her head, water draining from her eyes. Her face was mottled, her wrinkled hands trembling with grief. She could barely make out the words "What manner of fiend murders innocents?!"

Rosemary shook her head, not knowing what to tell her. "Why would they do this?!" She asked her, weeping with sorrow as her dog remained silent, nudging his snout against Oriana's arm. Her mother stood back up, her knees shaking. She furrowed her brows and clenched her fists, now turning her sadness into anger. "Howe is not even taking hostages!" she said, her voice full of rage. She stared at her daughter, all sorts of emotions running through her. "He means to kill all of us!"

She thought of her son, who thought his wife and son were safe and warm under the roof of the large castle, sleeping soundly as he was camping in the woods. He believed that everyone was alright. It would take days, weeks, months, even, for him to even know that the castle had been under attack. And then he would have to hear the news that his spouse and child had been killed.

"Oh, poor Fergus…" Mother whispered, wiping her forehead that was beaded with sweat, "let's go." She walked to the doorway, mumbling things under her breath that Rosemary was too busy crying to listen to. "I don't want to see this."

The three of them fought their way to a large hallway inside the castle. Soldiers had eventually found a way to the upper level, so when the three stepped out of Fergus's room, they encountered a band of them. With her mother's useful skill of bows and arrows, they killed the men without much difficulty. She would fire from a distance while Thaddeus and Rosemary ran to the group, he biting and tearing at some of the soldier's shins as she stabbed and parried. They made a good party together, able to fight against Howe's men as they had not expected. "Do you hear the fighting?" her mother questioned as they hid inside a dark corner of the large hallway. She was calm now, as was Rosemary, trying to focus on finding Father instead of grieving over something they could not change. She drew a quick breath of air. "Howe's men must be everywhere," she said.

There was much clanging of swords within the castle, many war cries coming from various guards. Very few of Highever's soldiers had stayed at the castle, and everyone else must have taken up arms against Howe's men as well. The fighting was so bad that a fire had been started somewhere. They had not seen it yet, but the smell of choking smoke clogged their lungs as they continued throughout the castle.

Rosemary leaned up against the stone wall in the corner, resting her back for a moment. "What should we do?" she asked Eleanor, grazing her finger over a cut along her arm. It wasn't very deep, and the blood had already dried and scabbed over. It was long, though, running up her elbow and down to her wrist.

"The front gates," Mother answered finally, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway. "That's where your father must be," she said.

Rosemary looked at her with confusion. Yes, she had to find her father; he might have been in grave danger, but the image of a deceiving man lingered in her thoughts. "We can't just let Howe win!" she hissed. Didn't she want to find him first, kill him for all he'd done? Andraste's sake, he murdered their family!

Her mother looked at her with her soft eyes, just as she did when they were discussing matters much earlier that day, before evening had fallen. "Listen, darling," she said, "we haven't much time. If we can't find your father, you must get out of here alive." She wiped the hair that covered part of Rosemary's eye behind her ear. "Without you and Fergus," she said, "the entire Cousland line dies here."

Her spine shivered with fear. If they didn't find Father… no, they were going to find her father no matter what, and they would all escape together. She went on as they still hid in the shadows of the room, Thaddeus waiting silently. "Howe's men are inside, so they must already control the castle. We must use the servants' larder to escape. Do you hear me?"

Rosemary nodded at her. She would find her own time to discover where Howe would be hiding, and once she did, then the Arl of Denerim would fall to her blades.

She started for the door that she had pointed her finger at, the entryway to more and more soldiers as well as the way to the gates. "Then let us be swift," she said, Thaddeus and Rosemary following her lead.

They raced down a long stairway, brushing past fallen men and chunks of debris along the steps. Once they reached the bottom, a panicked man stood near the corner. He was in his breeches, his hair frizzed and sweaty. He seemed to be one of the commoners that had been staying at the castle. He ran to them, relieved that safety had appeared. "The castle has fallen!" he yelled over the sound of the fighting and shouting soldiers. "I'm getting out of here!"

Rosemary bent down and grabbed a sword once used by one of their fellow guards. It was smothered in blood and bits of dirt collected from the ground, but it could be wielded as a useful weapon. She handed it to the man, his hands shaking with fear once he felt the heaviness of the blade. He gave her a worried expression; he had obviously never fought before.

"Don't be a coward!" Rosemary said to the commoner. "Stand and fight!" He gasped, his jaw dropping down to his chin, though he quickly nodded his head at her command. "Y-yes, my lady," he replied, looking down at the sword.

There was a loud crash from across the room and down the next hallway. For a moment, all was silent, the castle, the soldiers, everything. But shortly after the startling sound, a small army of Howe's men poured from the hallway and towards them.

"Here… here they come!" the frantic commoner yelled, preparing for a dangerous fight. He stood in an attack position, though he was still scared out of his mind.

This group was even more enraged then the previous groups they had battled. Their eyes were bloodshot, the pupils in them large as if they were swallowing their eyeballs. Their faces were red hot, blood and sweat dripping from their jaws. Some of them had axes and swords, some had sharpened daggers, and some even wielded huge greatswords that required both of their hands. Eleanor, Thaddeus, the terrified man, and Rosemary dove straight towards them. They stabbed and kicked, blocked and dodged. Thankfully though, for the four of them could not handle the overwhelming number of enemies, a clan of Cousland soldiers had followed behind Howe's men. They entered briefly after his men had surrounded the four, firing crossbows at them and gouging their swords into the soldiers' backs.

Breathing sharply, they left for the gates with the puzzled man following their trail. He eventually left towards the escape route in the larder, bidding them farewell and thanking them for protecting him. The man darted from sight and to the kitchens, leaving the three to fend for themselves once again.

They passed by the Main Hall on their way, where the gate leading outside led. A horrible ruckus had erupted; small fires had been lit in the hall, setting ablaze curtains and rugs, the flames' smoke slithering in the air. Deceased soldiers, both Howe and Cousland, were lying on the floor, and weaponry was scattered about. Many men were inside, slaughtering one another, but there was one man that caught her eye.

They ran inside to help defend Highever's men against Denerim's. Rosemary looked at Ser Gilmore as she kicked a guard down and pierced his chest, blood spewing on her face. He was standing with his back against a large door with several other Cousland soldiers. The door was shaking madly, Howe's men attempting to get through to the opposite side.

After the three of them, as well as the Cousland guards, finished off the last of the soldiers in the Main Hall, Ser Gilmore left his position and ran over to Rosemary. He motioned at the guards to take his hold on the door. "Go!" he ordered. "Man the gate! Keep those bastards out as long as you can!"

Rosemary could clearly see why Duncan would want to recruit Ser Gilmore. He was a fine man, polite and humorous, and had great leadership to his fellow soldiers. The man was an excellent warrior, and his determination was higher than anyone's she'd ever seen.

Ser Gilmore walked over to them, his red hair nearly identical in color to the blood that was splattered on his face and plated armor. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were weary, and he was beaded in sweat.

"My ladyship!" he sighed with relief, looking at her mother. He then stared at Rosemary and exclaimed "My lady! You're both alive! I was certain Howe's men had gotten through!"

"They did get through!" Rosemary told him, droplets of sweat slipping onto her eyelashes. Ser Gilmore exhaled sharply, hoping that none of Howe's men had poured throughout the rest of the castle. "Have you seen my father?!" she asked in a worryingly tone of voice.

"He was looking for you two," Ser Gilmore explained. "He told us to hold the hall for as long as possible." The man turned and looked back at the men holding the door shut, pressing their backs on the wood, pushing their hands against it with all their might. "When I realized what was happening," Ser Gilmore said, "it was all I could do to shut the gates." He turned back around, a scared expression on his face. "But they won't keep Howe's men out long!" He stepped closer to Rosemary, putting his hands on her shoulders. "If you've another way out of the castle, use it quickly!" She nodded as he stood there, worried for the both of them, if they could escape Howe's treacherous plan. Suddenly she remembered Duncan, the quiet man she had met earlier that day. It was strange… they had not seen or heard of him ever since they discovered the castle being attacked.

"Where is the Grey Warden?" Rosemary asked. Ser Gilmore glanced at Eleanor, who was behind her, a blank look on both of their faces. "I've no idea!" Ser Gilmore mumbled, shaking his head in confusion as he glared down at the floor. He instantly looked up at her, his eyes big and struck with fear. "You don't think he's involved in this, do you?" Ser Gilmore questioned. She certainly didn't want to believe it, but… it was possible he and Howe had sided together to bring the Couslands down. It was impossible though! The Grey Wardens were legends of history, conscripted for the greater good of banding together to defeat Blights. She thought of Duncan trying to murder them simply unreal…

Her mother spoke up from behind her daughter, her voice quiet as she thought aloud. "Perhaps he… was sent to kill Bryce?" She gasped with horror, for it could have been true, the man could have been out to eliminate her father. "Oh dear…" she muttered, "Have you seen him?"

There was a loud banging at the door, and the soldiers bodies shook against the door. More of Howe's men had appeared from outside the gate, and Highever's men had to be prepared to fight soon. "When I last saw the teyrn," Ser Gilmore said, focusing his eyes back on her mother and from the door, "he'd been badly wounded. I urged him not to go, but he was determined to find you."

She looked at her mother, and her face was full of terror. Her father had insisted on finding his family rather than being treated for his severe wounds, and the thought made Rosemary quiver with uncertainty. Ser Gilmore went on, trying to comfort them by saying "He went towards the kitchen," motioning his hand toward a door to the far left of them. "I believe he thought to find you at the servant's exit in the larder."

Eleanor smiled slightly, a tear streaking down her face. "Bless you, Ser Gilmore," she said. "Maker watch over you!"

"May He watch over us all," Ser Gilmore said as she began for the door. Rosemary stayed where she was for the moment, in front of Ser Gilmore, wishing him farewell… if…

"Ser Gilmore," she said, looking at him with worry in her soul, "if something happens to you, or to I, or to all of us, even, I want you to know that you are a great friend of mine." He smiled, finding a moment a peace and happiness in all this despair. She went on. "Try to hold them back. Lead your men well during the fighting. You would make an excellent Grey Warden, I bet."

He hugged her tightly in his arms, her good friend saying goodbye. "And to you, Rosemary," he said. "You'd be an even better Warden. You're kind, beautiful, and an excellent fighter." He let go and looked into her eyes. If he saw her after the battle, then maybe…

"Farewell, for the time being," he whispered. "I…I hope I'll get to see you again." She nodded, tears running down her face. She knew, and he knew as well, that they would most likely not be able to hold up the castle much longer, and that Howe would either take the remaining soldiers with him or just kill them. Rosemary didn't want to lose one of her best friends…the other being her dog, but she wasn't going to let him die in this tragedy.

"Now go," Ser Gilmore instructed. "I won't let you get killed by Howe." Rosemary whimpered as she waved to him, darting to where her mother waited for her, Thaddeus running behind her. He ran back to hold the door that now shook so violently it seemed as if it would break off of its hinges. Her heart felt weak and heavy, seeming as if it was slowly dropping down to into her stomach. She was almost certain that she would never see Ser Gilmore again, but what she needed to focus on was her dearest father, who was in great danger.