Chapter 4

Batter my Heart

"A moment of your time, Warden Commander."

The night had been long and sleepless; alternately angrily pacing the floor or staring into the fire, Cousland had not touched the fine, heavily blanketed bed as he fought against his own demons. He did not need it, he told himself, but in truth he did not want it. He knew the nightmares that lay in that bed, waiting for him to let his guard down. No, he would not be tortured any more than he already felt. Sleep had not been the answer.

He had looked for the first rays of dawn before waking Phillipa. The pair made themselves ready to depart with an efficiency bred of practice and discipline, on Phillipa's part anyway. For Lien he couldn't lie to himself and say it wasn't a visceral need to be away from this place, away from the seat of everything he felt was worst in his life at that moment.

So they had prepared to leave, and the stables had been empty but for him, until Cousland was startled by the sudden request in a familiar voice. He turned away from preparing his horse for the long ride back to Vigil's Keep only to find Bann Teagan standing behind him with an air of casual tension.

"A moment is all I have to spare," Cousland replied succinctly, "so out with it."

He had expected Teagan to be fazed, at least a little, by his abrupt behaviour but the man simply did as requested. After their rather heated discussion the day before Cousland would admit that he was surprised by Teagan's candour and calm repose. Yet it was as the man began to talk that Cousland realised he had not only sneaked into the stables undetected but he had also shut the heavy wooden door behind him and looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers before continuing. He felt a wary tension creep into his limbs.

"I do not have long and we must be discreet," Teagan's words confirmed Cousland's suspicion; the Commander narrowed his eyes but did not interrupt as Teagan took a breath before continuing, "I did not have a chance to talk to you yesterday, your arrival was so abrupt. I would have preferred a location away from the Castle to discuss this but...this will have to do. I fear there may be a plot against the throne."

Silence followed, broken only by the sounds of horses snorting and the shifting of hooves against stone. Cousland stared at the man in disbelief long enough for Teagan to continue without a response, whether positive or negative.

"We have had reports of the Bannorn and Highever amassing and training troops, word of meetings between the Teryns in secret, rumours that they are plotting dissent..." Teagan continued until he was harshly interrupted.

"Hold your tongue," Cousland spat, viscously enough to make Teagan start with surprise; he eyed the man harshly, knowing exactly what Teagan was skirting around in his accusations, "be careful what you say, unless you have hard proof to lay a foundation for your claim."

"We have several reports, from trusted sources, of treason amongst our own Banns, believe me that I would not stand for lies and half truths in a situation such as this," Teagan said sincerely.

"You fear there is a plot to murder Alistair and you only come to me now?" Cousland said angrily, the news sinking in slowly but surely; how could this be possible? "What on earth is wrong with you Teagan! What measures have been taken to combat this?"

The hesitation should have been the first bad sign. Cousland sighed harshly as Teagan shook his head and tried to sound contrite.

"There is not enough evidence for us to make any formal accusations," he said, "but it is only due to the conspirators being clever, not our own failings. I know this must be hard for you to hear, and I did not mean to have to spring this on you in such a manner, but Teyrn Cousland has also been implicated in this threat..."

"My brother loves his country," Cousland interrupted once more, his voice harsh as he forced himself not to shout, "and he will honour his king. How dare you come to me with these half baked allegations of treason when you have stated yourself that you have no evidence!"

Teagan stared as Cousland shook his head and snorted venomously. Why are we always left with the bureaucracy of the court instead of his preferred method; straight forward, face to face interrogation. It would have been the first thing he would have suggested, take the suspected traitors in one by one and question them until any scrap of truth to back up Teagan's allegations could be found. Damn their positions and their pride, this was far too serious an allegation to skirt around niceties. It made him uneasy, however, that mention of Fergus' name had made his conviction, which had arisen so suddenly, waver. This is madness, Cousland thought desperately, what can Teagan be thinking? Treason, against the king? Not for centuries has Ferelden known such barbarism.

"I come to you because I do not know who else to trust," Teagan said earnestly, his eyes hard, "and all I ask is that you keep an ear to the ground, Commander, and be ready should anything arise to threaten the crown."

Before he could even summon a reply Teagan turned and left, opening the door just as Phillipa appeared, skirting around each other expertly. She watched Teagan leave with an air of half interest before handing over the pack of supplies she had fetched to Cousland. Lien did not even notice that he must have looked as if he were away with the fairies until Phillipa touched his arm.

"Are you alright, Commander?" she asked.

"Not until I'm away from here," he said truthfully, his face set.

His statement was met with a curt nod. He and Phillipa mounted their steeds and rode out into the sleepy dawn. Cousland buried the clamouring questions beneath his consciousness and focused on the wind rushing past his face, the smell of wet earth and the glaring sunshine behind luminescent clouds.

The memory of Alistair's kiss against his lips, his kind, gentle touch against his face, lingered at the core of his mind; no matter how hard he tried to forget.


It was a large room, very large. The ceiling seemed miles away, murky and dark, as the sky on a thundering day. The floor was cold and hard. Everything seemed empty. There was a slight fog in the distance, dim and hurtful. Cousland felt a loneliness in his limbs which had not been there for what felt like an age.

Yet there was a sound, a whispering heat in his ear. The words were indistinct, jumbled and lost to his understanding. He felt a sickness rolling around in his stomach, churning leisurely. Why couldn't he leave? He thought angrily, Why am I stuck here? I need to go, it is important that I go. He felt something in the palm of his hand and looked down.

The key shone brightly amidst the gloom, as a beacon would. The voice in his ear grew louder, louder and louder, and yet still he could not understand what was being said. It raised to an awful crescendo in his ears. Cousland raised his hands in sheer supplication, dropping the key to the floor where it was swallowed helplessly. Please, I need to go! he thought again, trying to move his feet but failing. There was a rising sense of being watched, from something within that terrible gloom. Where is he? He should be there by now. I need to go!

Suddenly everything fell dangerously quiet.

'Foolish one' the voice said, crisp and clear and loud and yet distortedly gruff, 'you will never be free'

Lien woke with such a start that he pulled a muscle in his side. He hissed in pain and crumpled back to the ground, onto the measly bedroll which lay under the thin tent in the forest where they had camped. The embers of their camp fire were still barely glowing when he looked over. Haven't been asleep long, have I, Cousland thought. He lay on his bedroll, slowing his panted breath and tried to bring his nerves under control. It was just a nightmare, he told himself sternly, nothing more. Get a hold of yourself Cousland.

He shuffled out of his tent on his hands and knees, wary of his aching side, feeling the dry dirt beneath his hands. The woods were pitch dark but the moon overhead was full and bright, painting the night sky a twilight blue. The stars were bright and twinkled sporadically. Cousland watched them for a moment as he got to his feet unsteadily. He looked over to Phillipa's tent and found the other Warden sleeping peacefully.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he breathed in the crisp winter air. Behind the darkness, however, he could feel the dream lurking. He opened his eyes before the panic of the dream infected him once more and decided there would be no sleep for him tonight. He busied himself with checking the traps he had set around the camp in case of attack. Once he was certain everything was in order, he returned to the camp and built up the fire with the small pile of dry wood they had collected.

The night was long and the loneliness from the dream did not abate. His sleeplessness from the previous night only made his need to stay awake all the more difficult. He would do it nonetheless, but he price seemed too steep. With every nod of his head the darkness beckoned.

The heat from the fire was a bare comfort.


His dark thoughts were given no time to breed on his return to the Keep, for which he was very grateful. He was told that Thrafur, his most trusted ranger, was waiting within Cousland's own study for the man to return. He had news, that was all the information he was given. Phillipa returned to her post on the wall and the stable hand took care of the horses while Cousland hurried to his study.

He gave Thrafur an odd look as he entered, still in the process of divesting himself of his travelling cloak and short swords. The ranger waited patiently until his commander was ready and seated by the roaring fire. Cousland was glad that Thrafur was the man reporting to him, considering the Commander's mood. The ranger was blunt and to the point as a matter of course. Cousland knew that he would be given the information without any hassle.

"You have news for me," Cousland said.

"Yes Commander," despite the eager glint in Thrafur's eyes Cousland detected a hint of hesitation in his voice, "although I'm not sure if you will like what it is I have to tell."

Well doesn't that make a change, Cousland thought sarcastically. Can't anyone bring me good news, just once in a while?

"Spit it out Thrafur," Cousland said gruffly, making the other man sigh but continue as ordered.

"Sir," Thrafur said with weary acceptance, "we've had a report from our outpost near Montfort, the Warden ranger Halfast. It seems that a week ago there was an attack on the city. There was much damage, mainly to the outer wall but also structural damage to other buildings and some injuries, to guards and civilians. The guards reported that a mage was responsible, a man with two allies. The word abomination was thrown around, rather carelessly I think. The templars are also involved."

"Any left alive?" Cousland asked quickly as he processed the information.

"Only one," Thrafur said with a shrug, "but he'll never walk again. They had to amputate at the knees."

Cousland couldn't help but wince. More mage uprisings? It did not surprise him but it didn't mean he had to like it either. The mages of Thedas fought against their bonds as tethered wolves would, snapping and biting and chewing at the ropes which held them. They seemed to have finally realised there could be no peaceful solution, no defining moment of epiphany for the Chantry law to realise its flaws and mistakes, and thus violence was rife. In a way, however, it did give him a guilty sense of hope. Perhaps if the destruction being caused by the rebels worsened, then Orlais would no longer be able to purely focus its attention on Ferelden.

"Did they have any more information to give?" Cousland asked, thinking that the worst of the news was surely over.

"Yes, well..." Thrafur hesitated and looked to the fire before answering, "he couldn't be completely sure but Halfast reported signs of an unidentified Grey Warden in the area during the time of the attack, a sensing which was swiftly lost once the culprits of the attack fled into the Fields of Ghislain. They did not have enough manpower to follow the rogue, especially since they stayed to help with the injured at Montfort."

Cousland felt his hands tightening into fists and purposefully forced himself to relax. A Grey Warden mage? Descriptions of an abomination? It bloody well better not be what I think it is, he thought savagely, because if I find out you've done something this reckless and hasty Anders I'll kill you myself. He hoped that it were not true but it seemed too large a coincidence that a Grey Warden and a mage had caused destruction on a large scale while escaping from templars only a few days ride from where Wynne had met with Anders himself.

"Alright," he said eventually, nodding as he rubbed at his mouth and jaw, "alright. This news is troubling, we must monitor this situation. I need you to keep an ear to the ground for any further mage activity, I don't care how small or insignificant, it all comes to me, understand?"

"Yes Commander," Thrafur said loyally, standing to leave at Cousland's nod.

"Wait," Cousland said suddenly, halting his subordinate in his tracks; Thrafur looked back with curiosity, "I also need you to put feelers out a little closer to home. Who do we have in the Bannorn?"

"We have Leia and her troops," Thrafur said, his brow creasing in a frown.

"And near Highever?" Cousland continued.

"Hannir and Andrew were sent to relieve Howard and Shenna at the outpost due north of Westhill, they are our closest," Thrafur said, his eyes grave as he regarded his superior, "Commander, may I ask what it is we are looking for within our own boundaries?"

"Treason," Cousland said bluntly, knowing that there was no point in hiding his reasons, especially from his rangers; Thrafur's eyebrows rose a fraction but other than that the man did not react, "there have been rumours of dissent between the Teyrns and I mean to either prove or disprove it. I don't want to hear any rumours, I want you to bring me facts, witnesses, documents, conversations, anything solid. If it turns out to be nothing then it turns out to be nothing, but this is not something I am willing to leave unchecked and please Thrafur...don't lecture me on the Warden policy of not becoming involved in political affairs."

Thrafur watched him for a moment in silence, unmoving, before cracking the most infinitesimal of smiles.

"You may think of me as only a Grey Warden, Commander, but I am also a Fereldener," he stood proud and straight backed as he continued, "and I protect the King as much as I protect my brothers and sisters. I will see that it is done." He finished with a tight, rough salute across his chest.

"Good," Cousland said returning the salute, nodding in understanding.

You are not alone, he kept repeating to himself, you are not alone in this. Cousland dismissed Thrafur but continued to sit in his study, staring into nothingness while he tried to figure out how to make everything work.

Sometimes there is no way to force a situation Pup, his father used to say, sometimes you have to sit back and allow the opportunity to come to you. For once Lien Cousland decided to take his father's advice, despite his growing unease.


It took two weeks of hectic and troubling diversions before Cousland heard word of the conspiracy again. Unfortunately the Keep was in such a state of disarray that Cousland did not fully comprehend exactly what was happening until everything was far, far too late.

A point for which he would never forgive himself, for as long as he lived.